#ned is the light of my life

[spxllcxstxr]

Being Eddard Stark’s Second Wife • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Eddard Stark second wife headcanon? ❤️❤️❤️ -m — anon

Warnings: fem!reader, heavy canon divergence, mention of dying in childbirth (not reader, no other mention of pregnancy/having children), assumed age gap? Ned stark being THE man <3

A.N: I feel like these are a little short but I actually like this one! I love Ned so much so these were also just fun to write…I hope you like them! :) also I always struggle to find more diverse gifs along these romantic lines and I’m so sorry about that, my works are always inclusive

•

You marry Ned Stark after Catelyn dies delivering Rickon, her youngest

Ned certainly did not believe that he would marry again, he was incredibly heartbroken by the death of his wife

Additionally, he now had to look after 6 children and be the Lord of Winterfell

Even though he had servants and teachers and maesters to look after his children and keep them preoccupied, he was still stretched very thin due to stress and lack of sleep

You had been a close friend to the Starks even before Robb was born; some daughter of a lesser known Northern house who had come to Winterfell for a change of scenery

Despite your lower ranking, Ned and Catelyn became close friends of yours

When Catelyn died Ned’s grief almost consumed him; but you were his light in the deep and dangerous darkness that had fallen over his life

While throughout the many years of knowing Ned you occasionally felt a spark, not love, but it certainly wasn’t platonic, you pushed it down, never rushing anything that would harm your friendship and Catelyn in particular

Becoming Ned’s second wife is a gradual process

Ned comes to you almost every day, whether it is due to his grief or to ask your opinion on something, you become even closer than you were before

It takes maybe around 2 or 3 years of mutual pining for the two of you to really acknowledge what’s going on

Robb, Jon, and Arya definitely have a hand in this, they’re old enough to see what’s going on, they certainly drop hints to the two of you

“Tell me, my Lady, why I cannot stop thinking about you…”. He takes off his gloves, just to place his rough palm gently on your cheek. “You are the first thing in my mind when I wake, and the last thing when I finally succumb to sleep.”

“Ned…”

“If you do not feel the same tell me now, before I kiss you,”

The kiss is obviously what starts it, and the wedding comes very quick after that

Ned is very protective of you

With anything

He knows how harsh the Northern wind is, so he makes sure you have the finest furs and the warmest boots

Even if you say you’re fine he will insistently add another layer onto you

He does it with a grin on his face and a kiss on the forehead

Ned loves you so much

He will also teach you how to defend yourself

He is already teaching his children so training you isn’t a problem, he doesn’t like to think about it, but he knows there might come a day where he may not be able to protect you from the evil things of Westeros (or beyond)

His kids are mostly used to you before you end up marrying him

Sansa is really the only one to have a bigger issue with her father taking a second wife but she quickly warms up to you

You know you aren’t their mother and you try not to smother them like you are, but you are protective of them as if they were your own

Ned loves watching you help them with their studies or their interests

He’s seen you sneakily teach Arya how to punch properly

And Sansa’s needlework has improved since you moved into the castle

He adores how you treat Jon no differently than the others, Catelyn always did. He doesn’t blame her, he had to lie to her, but it warms his heart to see you act so kind to him

Ned is a loving husband and he shows that to you every day

He’s always gentle towards you and respects your opinions and what you have to say

He’s truly #NotLikeOtherMen lmao

•

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Okay. I know the general consensus is not this, but if Catelyn had been told the truth about Jon from the get go, she would have treated him better. Relatively. Like, she wouldn't have gave him shit for being a bastard or been ice queen bitch stepmother to him, but uh. there would have been other issues. Just think about how having Catelyn aboard the hide-Jon-train would go for one second. For one second. Okay? We are talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully. And we are also talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully before the other four kids came along. Just her baby Robb and Ned and Ned's nephew. (and if you don't think that Ned saving Jon from under Robert's nose on a promise to his sister wouldn't make I-released-the- king-slayer-to-bring-back-my-daughters-Catelyn fall so hard in love with him her head is still ringing fifteen years later you are LYING to yourselves) So think mother gothel. She would have micromanaged the shit out of Jon's life and upbringing. Ned is pretty lax so as security measures go in terms of Jon, but Cat? Winterfell would get turned into FBI headquarters. Vibe checks at the door and retina scanners and Jon and Robb have a praetorian guard on their cradles. Yeah she'd be cool to Jon in public as he grows but in private she's frantically brushing his hair every night looking for whites. Holding him up to the light to check for hints of purple in his eyes. As they get older she namedrops bastard a lot but secretly actively fosters a relationship between Jon and the other kids because Catelyn-Sansa-will-be-queen-of-the-seven-kingdoms-Stark nee Tully knows about the pact of Ice and Fire and having one of the last Targs bouncing around is tickling the politician in her. That being said she institutes a book ban on Targ history and is always on Ned's ass about them playing dragons. When Arya is gets old enough she makes it a point to put her and Jon next to each other at all times. Jon getting a direwolf are goddammed holy blessing to her. When Robert's dump ass comes to visit she's having a conniption about Jon being recognized and nearly locks his ass in the crypts until he decides of his own free will to sit in the cheap seats before she blows a gasket. She hates the Wall idea because who the Fuck is going to watch this kid as well as she's been doing for the past fifteen years? WHO? If she had found out about Aemon being up there she's have blown up castle black. Jon, who has had to deal with this shit since attaining spatial awareness tries to get Benjen to let him take his night's watch vows at Winterfell's weirwood. Man wants OUT. He can't deaal with tiger mom ass no more. When he comes to visit Bran she slips and says something cryptic and weirdly affectionate and it puts his ass in a tailspin all the way to the Wall.

Like, I know people think it'd go more downhill if she knew about Jon but why? Boring. Uninspired. Booooo. Get fun with it.

[ladyempty]

Hello. About Yandere Rhaegar and Baratheon(Steffon'sdaughter).And at the banquet. The Starks (Brandon/Ned), Jaime are flirting with the reader. What would Rhaegar's reaction be?

"The cold freezes a dragon"

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life.| ° | pairing: Yan! Rhaegar Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader ° | !English is not my first language!|

The atmosphere was lively, bards and musicians entertained everyone present in the great hall with endless singing. Under the darkness of the night, the only source of light was the countless candles held by metal brackets and a large old chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Laughter and conversations mixed and echoed around the room, filling the large space with ease

The ladies, tired of dancing, were with other ladies, fanning themselves with colorful fans while whispering among themselves like little mice.

It was a great celebration filled with everyone's happiness and satisfaction. But Rhaegar had something else on his mind, determined to be victorious in the battle he has been fighting since a young age. The battle for his heart.

But the irritating Lannister, Jaime, heir to the proud lord Tywin Lannister also seemed determined to have the same achievement tonight. The boy with golden blond hair and emerald eyes who had never, in his entire existence, irritated Rhaegar more than at that moment.

The dragon prince's fingers closed against his cup, so tightly that his fingertips took on a whitish hue. The dark purple eyes, always so lackluster even when he was young, were fixed on the scene that was unfolding like torture before his eyes. The darkness of his pupils consuming the rich purple of his irises with dark intentions.

The Lannister's movements were bold, he twirled a thick platinum curl under his ring finger, admiring the color up close and softness against his skin. An act that seemed so gallant to others, but so despicable to Rhaegar. How dare he be so close? To insinuate yourself so blatantly? Any rational being in this room knew very well of the prince's obvious interest in his second cousin. Was Jaime blind or simply too stupid to see the obvious? The fact known to everyone?

The green poison of jealousy rose in his throat with every little exchange of words between them, threatening to boil over at any moment and force Rhaegar to commit acts he didn't want to do. Or he would like it more than he should.

And the fact that you didn't push him away only served to hurt him deeply. When you were married, would you continue to allow other men to advance? The sudden thought came to his mind and a deadly pain shot through his insides, a pain as fierce as if you were already his wife and had been unfaithful.

Well, that's enough. He thought furiously, standing up quickly as the young lion grew even bolder, lips hovering dangerously close to his as he whispered words that would make any other Lady blush.

Rhaegar's warm hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, making you jump in your seat at the sudden contact, turning your head to study him.

"Forgive me, but I simply have barely had time to talk to you since the beginning of the banquet, dear cousin." He smiled, a smile that never reached his eyes that were still fixed on Jaime. "I hope you don't mind me stealing from her for a moment." And forever and ever, he completed in his mind.

"How could I be so rude as to disturb a family moment, right?" The bold Lannister hummed, a feline, mocking smile on his lips as he rose from his seat to leave the table he was at, not before placing an infuriatingly long kiss on the back of Lady Baratheon's hand.

"I do not like him. I don't want you near him." Rhaegar growled, his tone always so calm that it perfectly hid his anger. "He's the kind of man no respectable Lady should have around." And you are respectable, aren't you my dear cousin?"

Rhaegar quickly stole Jaime's place at the table next to him, his hand cautiously clasped your, which was hidden between the folds of the skirt of your dress, a gentle but not loose grip, sharing the warmth of his hands to the woman.

"Are you cold? Perhaps the very low temperatures are not the most appropriate place for you." He smiled with a small lift at the corner of his lips. His eyes quickly migrated to the figure of Ned Stark standing in the corner of the hall talking to Robert. Rhaegar has already added the man to your list since the beginning of the night, when the hateful Stark boldly, out of character, stole all the dances with you that night.

"It's a good thing the dragon's blood runs through my veins, so I can keep you warm whenever I want. Forever.”

[shawnxstyles]

Omg! Panty stealer pt2 is sooooo gooood! Cocky and dom Peter absolutely blew my mind! Your writing is awesome!

Pleeeeease tell me that it will be third part to fulfill the panty trilogy! As humble suggestion maybe reader find out that Pete is SpiderMan and he will finally get head from her while he is in his spidey costume? Or maybe more than just blowjob?Hehehe Am I very bad and naughty that I'm typing this to you? 🥵🤤

Anyways love ya darling! You're smashing it!

in the suit

words: 3k

warnings: smut; (m- receiving [oral], dirty talk), language, and fluff of course. barely edited.

note: panty!peter blurb #1 coming up :D also, this is the way i believe y/n would have found out about spider-man, but i have another request for the same thing so i’ll probably do an alternative version!

—

you couldn’t stop thinking about it. how?

how does peter manage to get into your room every night? okay, not every night, but most nights.

most nights, peter magically and mysteriously sneaks his way up into your forbidden bedroom with ease. sometimes, you even wait and watch outside your window to try to get a peak at what he’s doing. but you never see him.

he’s just so slick. how does he do it?

you and peter have been together for over a month now, if you’re counting the day he broke in. the feeling isn’t necessarily new in your heart. you feel like you’ve known him your whole life. like he’s always just… been there.

through this month of stability yet craziness, you haven’t gone back to the frat house since the halloween party. you thought that after you guys got together you would stay there more often, but peter doesn’t want you to be ‘attacked’ by the guys. meaning, he doesn’t want them to ask a million questions when you guys are supposed to be private. you thought his excuse was dumb, but he was also just being a bit protective.

in reality, peter just didn’t know how to get you into the frat house without anyone seeing you. you both had agreed that your relationship was going to be kept private, very private. people could spread rumors and assume you two were together, but you weren’t going to show each other off. you guys liked it this way, it made your relationship more special because it was just for you two.

peter had a sixth sense, sticky fingers, and webs. it was pretty easy for him to crawl up into your room especially because you didn’t have security cameras (maybe you guys should get some at some point though…). you would constantly ask him how he does it since you live on the second floor and it was high up. but peter responds by not responding and instead laughs and kisses you. god, he was too good at distracting you.

but tonight, you were determined to find out.

peter had already texted you earlier and said he wouldn’t be able to stop by tonight because of overbearing homework. you completely understood, and sent him a good luck and goodnight to me then message. but truly, you were sneaking out and heading towards the frat.

you put on your sneakers and a hoodie, pulling the strings tightly around your head. the early december weather was no joke in massachusetts, and your thermal leggings were barely helping to keep you warm. as quietly as possible, you leave through the back door, making sure not to alert anyone or anything. not like you have a system to alert though.

you cut through some of the hedges until you’re in the front yard and the frat is staring at you from across the street. taking a deep, chilly breath, you cross the road with your frozen fingers tucked in your pocket.

all the lights in the top rooms were off, except one. you’re not totally sure which one is peter’s, but what other frat guy would stay up until 11 p.m. working on homework?

maybe ned, but he sleeps downstairs.

you walk until you’re under the window, the yellowish light taunting you. there was no latter, vine, rope, or magic hair to get you into the bedroom. the houses were built very similarly, and you know he doesn’t bring a latter with him.

so how does he do it?

you take a glance at your surroundings. the biggest difference of your houses was that the guys’ didn’t have large garden hedges. they just had a shit ton of messy bushes that they should probably trim once in a while.

having no ideas, you try to jump towards the window. great, that’s totally going to help you. maybe you’ll get some super jump that can spring you up and inside.

you feel stupid. yeah, peter may be the smartest person on campus and going to mit on a full academic scholarship, but how does he sneak into your room? with geometry? you didn’t think so.

wait.

what if… he’s hiding something from you?

that would explain why he’s so weird about it. letting the impulsive decisions take you over, you throw a rock at his window. hopefully, you’ll get his attention and he’ll come down, so you can see how he does it. or he’ll just go through the front door… whatever he does, you need to ask him this question right now. or else you’ll never be able to sleep again.

when throwing the rock gets tedious and noisy, you quit. just as you’re about to drop to the ground in annoyance, you hear a distant whipping sound. you hold your breath as if the person whipping will hear you.

fuck. it wasn’t a good idea for you to go out at night.

suddenly feeling anxious and scared, you slowly creep towards the sorority house. you don’t get too far before you see a body flinging through the air. the whipping noise gets closer and closer to you with every web on the streetlights. what the…

there’s only one person that could possibly be doing the impossible.

spider-man.

but what was he doing in your little neighborhood? this was one of the safest places in the area, so he didn’t need to check up here. there were so many more places in massachusetts that needed saving. feeling beyond curious, your feet scatter to hide you behind one of the untrimmed bushes.

you watch through crowded leaves as spider-man swings through the neighborhood, getting towards you. it’s like he can sense you and he’s coming for you. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, nervous about seeing him. you’ve never seen him before, and at least not in person. he was popular on the newspaper and television screens, but never on the street. unless you lived within the city.

with one long and final thwip, spider-man flings himself towards the frat house.

what. the…

you place your hand over your mouth, just in case your breathing is too loud. you intensely watch as the spider crawls up the white wall and towards the only lit window in the whole house.

no. fucking. way.

before you could fully register what you were seeing, you felt the gasp leave your mouth. you slap both of your hands on your face to shut yourself up. you nearly fall back on your heels as spider-man halts his movements. he scans his surroundings before jumping down the wall entirely.

your eyes are wide and your hands of shaking. you’ve never felt your heart beat so unbelievably fast, but you’ve also never been more afraid. what does he do to people that find out? what is going to happen to your relationship?

the body of blue and red stocks closer to the bushes with careful steps. you try to scoot away, but your back hits the fence. the wood creaks, your actions not quiet enough. his footsteps pick up speed as they rush to the bushes with determination.

spider-man jumps over the plant with grace, hoping to see a wild animal of some sort. but when he sees his girl with the most shocked and terrified expression in the world, he immediately falls to his knees.

“y/n,” he calmly says, slowly inching to you. he doesn’t hesitate to comfort you as peter. you don’t move, you just listen. “it’s okay. i promise.”

now that he sensed you, peter could hear your heartbeat overbearingly in his ears. he could hear your muffled breaths under your palm, and he just wanted to soothe your fear.

“baby,” he wanted to cuddle your body until you stopped shaking. you weren’t crying, you were just in shock. peter takes a quick glance at his surroundings before yanking off his mask and kneeling, so you could see his face reflecting off the moonlight. “it’s just me.”

“i…” you whispered as your hands fell from your face. peter doesn’t hesitate to grab them gently with his gloved ones. “…knew it.”

“you knew i was spider-man?”

“well… for like five seconds,” you flusteredly laugh while trying to recover. you still haven’t gotten used to this. well it’s only been a minute. “i knew you were hiding something.”

“what are you doing out this late anyway?” he stares straight up at the moon as it shines vehemently over you both.

“uh… well,” you start, “i was kind of curious as to how you always snuck into my bedroom without a latter or something, so i went to see? i don’t really know what i was looking for.”

peter chuckles. “but you found your answer, yeah?”

“yeah, i did,” you smile with sweetness as peter helps you up from the grass floor.

—

“it’s different breaking into your room rather than mine,” you say as you sit on the edge of peter’s bed. you watch as he tosses his mask inside of a box labeled books. “so that’s what was in the box. not dirty magazines.”

“surprise?” peter laughs and you giggle at his shyness. his cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but also from the slight blush that crossed them. you made him feel all warm and tingly inside, and even a little gooey.

his hand reaches for the button on his chest. it deflates, instantly becoming huge around him.

“wait,” you stop him before he undresses himself. he looks towards you. “can i just… look at you for a moment? in the suit?”

a small smirk creeps up his face. peter clicks the button again and his suit encloses on his body, outlining his muscles perfectly. every ridge and curve of him was being shown off by the spandex. you felt a spark of lust fire inside of you at the sight.

“like me in my suit, baby?” he teased as he trudged over to you. you stood up from the bed to meet his buff chest. you nodded with a bite of your lip.

he nearly growls before attaching your lips. it’s barely been a day since he’s last kissed you, but that’s too long for him. his gloved hand grips your jaw to deepen the kiss while your hands explore his messy hair.

the heat between you was undeniable. you were getting worked up over peter in his suit, and that’s something you never thought was possible. because you didn’t think peter being spider-man was possible.

is there a spider-man kink?

you take your shirt off after breaking the kiss, but resume it in no time. as he pushes you onto the bed, you stop him, having a new idea in mind.

“peter,” you sigh, spandex body hovering over yours.

“you okay?”

“yeah, yes. i just…” you swallowed, “can i…”

you didn’t really get your question out. you just slithered your body off the bed until your knees were digging into his carpet. peter’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares down at your figure, submissive below him.

“fuck. you want to touch my cock?” peter was already growing hard at the idea of fucking you in his suit. he found it hot that you found his suit hot. everything seemed to be a turn on right now. but now you were on your fucking knees like an angel and damn near begging to touch him?

how could he say no?

“go ahead then, sweet girl,” peter allows, but you stay still.

“how do i take it off—?”

“right—”

he unzips a zipper that you swear wasn’t there before. you barely take him fully out before you’re drooling at the sight. he was big and thick, and you don’t think you’d ever get used to looking at and feeling him.

your thumb drags over his weepy tip and he winces at your freezing touch.

“sorry!” you exclaimed with a funky smile. he forcefully laughs while you spit warmth into your hand.

“it’s okay, baby.”

your delicate hand wraps around him as you shift up and down. he sighs into the air, eyes fluttering back. your other hand scratches his thighs lightly. then, you fondle his balls until he’s groaning above you.

“fuck, darling,” he moans as his rough hand rests on your head. with his grip on you, you feel inclined to put your mouth on him. you’re barely an inch away, so what are you waiting for?

your lips pucker as you kiss his veiny shaft. you see from the top of your eyes how his face floods with pleasure, and your ego rises.

“if you look at me like that again, i’m going to explode, baby,” peter husks with his fingers laced in your hair for support.

with a hummed chuckle, you finally place your mouth on him. you suck on his leaky tip as a deep groan elicits from him. his noises always give you a bunch of reassurance, so you hum against him in satisfaction.

“takin’ me so well,” peter forces himself to stay still and let you do all the work. although, his hips just want to break free and ram into the back of your throat until you lose your voice. for another time… “love when you’re on your knees for me.”

you vibrated a moan against his cock as you took him deeper, a little more than half way. you were never the best at giving head because you couldn’t go that far down without gagging atrociously, but after peter showed you a better technique, for breathing and comfort, he thought you were a professional.

“you like being on your knees for me? or for spider-man?”

a groggy moan rippled around his cock from your filled throat, confirming his suspicions. you were definitely turned of the idea of peter as spider-man, and because of that, he was too. every time you were horny, peter was too.

you released your hands from him and braced them on his thighs. you focused and remembered the small notes he’s given you before. you take a long breath before sinking his cock deep in the back of your mouth. your thumb stabs your palm to eliminate your gag reflex, and it works. your nose nudges the base of his cock and you can see up close how his abs contract tightly.

“fuck! doing so good for me. going to make me come, sweet girl.”

hearing this, you bob and twist your head with a goal. your tongue swirls exploring around each ridge like it’s never tasted the plain before. peter was delicious; he was sweet with a pinch of saltiness that made you a fan of giving head. you would get on your knees any day for him.

his cock twitches in your mouth, warning you that he’s coming. you feel his hips buck into you as he strongly yanks your hair. you groan as he lets himself go.

“where do you want it? on your face? chest? or are you going to swallow it like a good girl?”

even when his dick twitches again, you don’t make an effort to move. you lick the underside of him, which sends peter over the edge.

a string of hushed groans fall from his pink lips as his muscles clench. ropes of his orgasm spurts down your throat, and you swallow every drop like a champ. well, almost all. parts of his come drip from the corner of your lip as he slowly pulls out of you.

the second he exits you, your jaw is instantly sore and achy, but it was worth it. to see the flustered and breathless peter above you was worthless everytime. peter was nearly disoriented by how fucking incredible your mouth was. how you were.

he tucks himself back into his suit as you remain on the floor. he leans down and helps you up, your knees popping in the process.

“how was it this time?” you croaked, voice cracking horrendously. peter tries not to laugh as he wipes away the nearly dried sperm on your face. you open your mouth without a thought, and he sticks his thumb in your mouth for you to lick it clean.

“it was good. fucking amazing. impeccable. exceeded expectations. outstanding performance—”

“okay, okay i get it. you’re a nerd!” you brokenedly laugh as you shove his chest. you got a sudden wave of chills because you were starting to get a bit cold. your body was still running hot because you were still, well, turned on.

“nerds are awesome, okay? they know everything.”

“like what? impress me,” you challenge as you throw your leg on top of his lap and get yourself seated. he smirks, feeling his cock chuff up a bit already. you were beyond soaked in your panties, and you just couldn’t wait for peter to destroy you.

peter knows you didn’t actually want him to say anything nerdy, so he made it a bit sexual. as always.

“they know how to… kiss.”

“you’re probably the one nerd that knows how to kiss.”

“okay, fine. i know how to kiss,” his hand cups your face as it leans closer towards his. he places a soft, longing kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away way too fast for your liking. “i know how to touch you, i know how to rile you up. right? i’m doing it right now. and you’re probably soaking.”

a warmth wave floods through your body at his words.

“i know how to talk to you too. bet these dirty words are going straight to your little clit, huh?”

“peter,” you whimper. he was right. he was beyond right.

his hand trails down your bare stomach and hovers over your clothed cunt. he can feel the heavy heat radiating from you through your leggings, begging for more.

“i can feel you. i can smell you, too. a perk of being spider-man,” he smiles, “guess this nerd is pretty great.”

“peter!” you shook his shoulders in desperation, but he didn’t move. you had a love hate relationship with his teasing. he indeed got you riled up, to the max, until you were begging him to touch you. he just dragged it on and on and on. he loved hearing you beg for it.

“okay, okay, sweet girl,” peter chuckled as his fingers fumbled down the waistline of your leggings. they were thick, so you helped him get them down. “just want to hear you say how awesome nerds are first. how do you think i made these webs?”

“you’re the hottest, super-nerd i’ve ever met in my life. now can you please fuck me?” you begged as your cunt ached.

“aw thanks, baby,” all he did was laugh at your misery with a smirk. “all you had to do was say please.”

—

note: not my best work, but i hope you enjoyeddd. literally posting this at 1 am :D

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[pendragonsclotpole]

help, i just got slapped in the face with the existence of WILL. be still my beating heart as i write an essay on this man, will of ealdor

firstly, i adore the silent and implicit trust hidden in the first joke that introduces will’s character. like merlin’s been aware his whole life that if his secret is ever found out, he will be hunted down and persecuted, but here comes will with a jab that they both inherently understand is a joke in the macabre style only true friends can lovingly master. the smile they share almost immediately gives me ned stark and robert baratheon meeting again in the courtyard of winterfell in season one of got. there’s also something so normal in their interaction that speaks of a familiarity borne from their equal status and years of friendship. i know merlin’s friends in camelot tend to skew to the non-royal/non-noble, but when you tally it up, those closest to merlin often hold some title that’s greater than merlin’s role as arthur’s servant. gwaine is a knight implied to be of noble blood; lancelot, percival, and elyan are also knighted and esteemed members of arthur’s court; gwen is the lady morgana’s maid and close companion long before she is ever queen; gaius is a physician and long time member of camelot’s court; morgana before her betrayal is literally uther’s ward. i feel like when placed among them all, merlin has a tendency to fade into the background offscreen. obviously the audience knows how important merlin is to the overall story given how much of the storyline focuses on him, and the characters regularly acknowledge merlin’s importance to them or arthur, but all of them still regard merlin as merlin the servant from camelot and few of them are privy to the plots we as the audience see firsthand. and even when they acknowledge him for his merits, his role as arthur’s close friend and confidante takes precedence. look at leon’s reaction in the later seasons when merlin is bewitched by morgana. merlin literally makes a comment about plotting to kill arthur and leon barely even blinks before quipping back, “driving you mad isn’t he?” or something along those lines. except for a few instances with even fewer characters, they never get a chance to know him as merlin the sorcerer from ealdor.

will does! and more than that, he got to know merlin as he is without arthur. we all hype up their status as magical soulmates but damn if i wasnt living for how jealous of arthur will seemed to be in this episode. call me crazy, but it makes me desperately headcanon a realistic past in ealdor for merlin, full of hardship and strife, but never without it’s moments of happiness. furthermore, will’s lone appearance in season one shines some real light on the unfairness of the fate that has been bestowed on meelin. the moment that will points out why he’s been so obstinate with arthur really strikes a deep chord. sure it could be just jealousy, but more compellingly, i choose to read it as a deep sense of care for merlin. everyone merlin has met within camelot, (or reunited with in the case of his own mother) has continually pushed him closer and closer to arthur. will presents a crucial exception. he knows exactly who merlin was before camelot, and who merlin is completely separate from arthur.

will is staunchly in merlin’s corner, and that position allows him to identify a key characteristic of merlin’s series’ long arc: his complete devotion to arthur. will even points it out himself: merlin could singlehandedly defend their home if he just used the full extent of his power. merlin doesn’t, and actively chooses not to because of his desire to stay close to arthur. it’s such a small moment, but i think it demonstrates how much of merlin’s decisions become motivated by his desire to stay close to arthur and to always put arthur first, even at a detrimental cost to himself. merlin understands and readily accepts arthur as his destiny, but this acceptance does not come about independently, instantly, or of merlin’s own volition. it does so eventually, but initially merlin sticks by arthur’s side because of the encouragement of everyone around him. “arthur needs you, merlin” or “arthur is your destiny, merlin” or “arthur is a good man, merlin. he has the potential to be a great king, he just needs the right people, merlin.” its codependent as hell.

sure, merlin originally does not tell arthur about his magic because they do not know each other and as far as merlin knows revealing his magic would lead to his death, but eventually the reasoning changes and becomes so focused on doing what’s best for arthur. merlin can’t tell arthur because then arthur would have to kill him and then who would look after arthur or ensure his fate? merlin can’t tell arthur because if arthur chooses to defy uther’s law, merlin is then forcing arthur to turn against his father and how could he look after arthur then? merlin can’t tell arthur because another betrayal from magic would ruin everything and truthfully, he wonders how would arthur react? merlin comes to fear what his magic might do to arthur and what it’s reveal might mean for his place in camelot more than the laws of camelot and their verdicts.

by this logic, merlin is a magical solar system orbiting entirely around the celestial body known as arthur pendragon. eventually merlin cared more about his relationship with arthur and what arthur thought about him than his own life. in retrospect, it’s so sad that will died so early on, because it strips merlin of a person solely in his corner. will’s death is the first in the series’ long pattern of loss that merlin endures and that eventually comes to define him because people either find out about his magic and their knowledge is directly tested against his loyalty to arthur, or he cannot allow them to know about his magic because it will unravel his relationship with arthur.

will, freya, balinor, morgana, mordred, arthur.

also the fact that will covered for merlin’s use of magic in his last moments just adds to the tragedy AND the growing pile of moments merlin could have told arthur about his magic but didnt. and also the fact that will literally died to save arthur. like tell me that just doesn’t prove my point. tell me. will never stood a chance. tell me every aspect of merlin’s life does not get consumed by arthur pendragon.

i’m all for merthur being soulmates, but god the original series is rife with the unbalanced mess of merlin being wholeheartedly aware of arthur’s great potential and destiny leading to some intense devotion and faith that yes, arthur earns and pays back in full measure but can never fully reciprocate because he just does not know anything. by the triple goddess, it can get so toxic. i wish will had lived if just for that. and like the jealousy arthur gets whenever merlin has other people. because i 100% live for possessive arthur and protective merlin dynamics.

[amuseoffyre]

Got pondering today on the baseline for Ed's experience and life up until he arrives at the Revenge, based on the various fragments of backstory and implicit history that are scattered throughout both seasons.

"we're just not those kind of people"

recurring violence - his mum's black eye and the kraken flashback, which carries over into Ed's instinct to recoil from anyone touching/coming near his face (except Stede)

"Remember how he stabbed us?" "He treated us like dogs. Like worse than dogs" - introduction to a world beyond his family and it's even worse and relentless

"his name was Felix and he was a really nice guy" - his peers being killed slowly and painfully as punishment in front of him

"It's poison!" / "I got the gift you left me, in my glass" - not even food or drink were safe

"that's what you fucking get" - a system of anticipated and constant violence

"cutting off a bloke's toes and feeding them to him for a laugh", "love a good maim" - inured to doing violence to others without question

"I don't wanna go back to the old days, drinking all the time" esp. after Jack's condescending "I didn't know I had an audience with the fucking pope" when he tries to refuse rum - twice, Ed comments on two of his friends about their drinking and twice, he gets scoffed at and then takes a drink from their bottles himself

"I was gonna kill him and burn his face off" - Anne and Mary (his peers from his youth) nodding in agreement that this is normal

"Run me through" / "Whip my balls!" / "Six inches of steel right in you" - violence and brutality as foreplay (And ohhh this puts a whole new light onto his extended freak out about Stede and him sleeping together straight after the Ned Low incident)

Knife Parade - finding it silly and funny and utterly unaware that he was terrorising people because he'd grown up surrounded by that kind of behaviour with Jack, Mary and Anne.

"Didn't apologise for shit" - no apologies, no admitting mistakes, no awareness of doing something wrong (and once he realises, he promptly apologises to Fang and then, awkwardly, stiltedly to Izzy the next episode)

"Your friends are very troubled" / "Yeah. Well, they're pirates" - the self-awareness there that this isn't a normal, healthy way of behaving

No wonder having a glimpse of something different with nice clothes and good food and marmalade and well-meaning friendship opens a door he never knew was even an option 😭

[maisiestyle]

"Ned Stark's Precious Little Girl"

Arya is a mix of both her parents. But as her story unfolds, with every new chapter and book, Arya has moved beyond her parents and into a far more dynamic character.

Ned was a role model to Arya, she loved him more than almost anyone (she loves Jon most of all). She holds on to Ned's memory now more than any of his children.

Ned is stubborn, quick to anger, loyal to a fault, and deeply devoted to his family to the point where he sacrificed his honor and died for his children.

Both Arya & Ned had a dislike for Southern culture. Which is double odd considering Ned was fostered in the South: That was never truly his place. Whereas Cat and Sansa are very much creatures made for the South.

Treatment of the smallfolk and not judging those lower than their station... That says a lot about their character, something Ned, Lyanna, Arya & Jon have all shown in the books.

Arya & Ned are similar but different as well. Where Ned was lacking, his ability to not see the truth in the lies around him - Arya has developed beyond that point. Ned was too slow and unyielding until it was too late and he died. Cat was to heedless, prideful, and emotional - that cost her life. At the beginning Arya was a mix of both her parents BUT her journey so far has made her grow and develop where her parents had not. By Book 5, Arya is extremely artful and considerate, patient and willing to face the truth in all its ugliness, adaptable and fluid like water - a changeling. That's how she'll survive where her parents did not.

While Sansa is learning how to flirt, organise a glorified party and remain passive and isolated.

Arya lives out in the open, has escaped death and captivity by her own wits, travelled all over Westeros leaving her memory imprinted on the people she met along the way, and her unyielding desire to never be helpless again which brought her to Braavos. The Sealord of Braavos stood up to a King and his dragons and won - all he did was whisper the "faceless men" and King's Landing yielded - that is true power. Arya will return to Westeros having grown in many ways. But like her father and mother, her family will always be her guiding light.

I love how the Northmen constantly connect Arya to Ned and want to fight for them both:

When White Harbour (a place Arya has visited twice with Ned) hears of "Arya Stark" marrying Ramsay.

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity…and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.” - (Davos, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

As "Arya" suffers in Winterfell, they connect her to Ned:

"The bride weeps," Lady Dustin said, as they made their way down, step by careful step. "Our little Lady Arya." ... What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." ...

"Lady Arya's sobs do us more harm than all of Lord Stannis's swords and spears.

~*~

The northmen want to fight for Arya:

“Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya’s home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? […] Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton…but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. - (Reek, A Dance with Dragons)

[…]

Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son’s shoulder for support. “We’ll take [Winterfell] for Ned and for his daughter.” - (The Sacrifice, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." - (Dance with Dragons)

[rynnthefangirl]

You know I of course love my boy Ned Stark, but it was honestly so fucked up of him to let Jon join the Nights Watch. Jon was FOURTEEN, and clearly had an overidealized view of what the Nights Watch was like. Even if the NW was everything he imagined, that is still way way too young to make that kind of life changing decision, that can NEVER BE TAKEN BACK.

“Well he’s a bastard so he doesn’t have that many options in life” the only thing he is barred from is the life of a noble lord. The vast vast majority of the realm are not lords or ladies and do you see them jumping at the chance to take the Black? Nope. The NW is so undesirable that it’s offered as an alternative to death! Jon could have worked a trade, been a hedge knight like Dunk (also likely a bastard), hell even something prestigious like Kingsguard when he is old enough (there have been bastard kingsguards in the past). A bastard has even been the Hand of the King! And as the bastard of a great lord, he has way more of a head start in life than most people.

What was Ned thinking?? He let his own son (well nephew, but basically his son) throw his entire life away and for what?? Because it was convenient? To appease Catelyn? Jon goes off to Castle Black and the world becomes a bit simpler? I understand Ned views the life of a sworn brother as very noble, but Jon was still a child. There’s no deadline on joining, he could have lived his life and then joined when he is old enough and worldly enough to understand what he is giving up. Maybe he felt that the NW was safer if the truth of Jon’s parentage should ever come to light, but as it’s JON’s life it should still be HIM to weigh that risk and make that choice.

The one thing I’ll throw hands with Ned about.

[ervotica]

i feel like i need to get this off my chest but oliver with that necklace is the hottest fucking thing, especially in the scene with the tall grass because to me it screams two things, it’s perceived as the “rough” version of something like a signet ring that a lot of ned / chav working-class boys did wear in the 00s - and still do, at least in scotland) especially because it’s silver to both the audience and felix but when you have a proper look at close up, you realise that the necklace is defo expensive as fuck, like it was hiding in plain sight.

also, thirsty me coming out but the idea of fucking him half asleep and being utterly entranced with the sparkling diamond’s twinkling in the slight light seeping into the dark bedroom, an embodiment of who oliver really is in that vulnerable moment is an idea i cannot get out of my head 👩🏻‍🍳😘 (which i might end up writing but i’ve just gotta muse with someone who loves that lil’ freak boy as much as i do)

i fucking love this analysis. it's seriously so nuanced and absolutely true!!

the things we see from oliver that indicate his deceit are clear as day once you rewatch. and i love the analysis of the jewellery being a glimmer into his real life. it's expensive and that's something that we as the audience don't realise because it's such a norm for working class boys to wear a chain that we don't question it, but also the fact that it's hiding in plain sight; the fact that it shows the audience that he's lying about his situation but even then he goes unnoticed - no one sees it.

half-asleep sex is fucking god tier oh my god. the way the diamond would catch the soft sliver of moonlight that seeps past the curtains, the punched gasps he would let out as you hooked a leg around him to anchor him into your own body, bare tits pressed against the hard expanse of his chest as he rocks his hips into yours. maybe you even grab hold of the necklace as he loses control, muscles twitching and convulsing with pleasure and he loses himself. the facade slips. it's the first time he's not in complete control since he arrived at saltburn. and you know you have him right where you want him.

(i'm begging u angel pls tag me if you write this, i would love to read!!)

[rosesradio]

Hello! I saw that you were taking requests. Would you mind writing a Peter Parker x Reader fic where he is just absolutely head over heels and the reader just doesn't know. The two are good friends so when the reader needs a date for a destination wedding she asks Peter. Cue the classic tropes. ✨💕

hii, here you go !! 🫶 i put in all the best tropes, including friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, he fell first she fell harder…it’s a lot, and it was so fun to write. thanks for the request & reblogs are appreciated <3

my inbox is open, please read my pinned!

word count: 4,105

warnings: light swearing, some sexually suggestive jokes

The Wedding Date

"Hm," you hummed, pacing from one side of your living room to the other. In balancing out your racing train of thought, you had picked up the giant stuffed teddy bear that rested on your couch. "Hm, hm, hm..."

"Hm," Peter echoed, narrowing his eyes as he watched you, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Can I ask what's bothering you, or am I gonna be left in the dark while you keep humming for another five minutes?"

"Ugh, I'm sorry," you sighed, forcing yourself to stand still and hug the giant bear to your chest. It was then that you remembered how you got this bear, Teddy, in the first place: Peter won it for you at a carnival. He must have played the stupid, rigged ring toss half a dozen times before he finally scored the big prize. He was such a gentleman, too, holding on to it while you got cotton candy for the both of you.

He was the most selfless person you knew. When you saw behind the Spider-Man mask after two years of knowing Peter, you weren't at all surprised; anyone else with his abilities would have given in to darker fantasies, though he had none.

If Peter was always so willing to be helpful, he could probably do you this tiny favor, right?

"I was just thinking," you started. "I got this wedding invitation recently from my friend, Lindsey—"

"A wedding?" Peter asked with raised brows. "On—on purpose?"

Noticing his smile, you rolled your eyes and flipped him the bird, unable to help but smile yourself. "I know, we're at that age—we're gonna get a ton of wedding invitations, and each one is gonna prompt some sort of crisis where we feel both too old and too young for any major milestone."

"Wow," Peter whistled. "That's so wise—are you seeing a therapist?" Without waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question, he continued: "You know, you could avoid a lot of crises if you just didn't have friends." He gestured to himself.

You looked at him incredulously. "You have me—and Ned. And MJ."

Peter hesitated. His brows furrowed, and he avoided your eyes. "Sure, but...I mean...you're not even close to getting married. You don't even have a boyfriend."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sorry," Peter cringed. "I didn't mean—"

"That's okay," you said. "You kinda have a point. That's actually what I've been contemplating. My plus one."

Peter's brows rose. "You need a wedding date."

You nodded. "I don't have to have one—and I'd ordinarily just say screw it and tell MJ to put on her best suit, but..." you shrugged, putting Teddy back down on the couch. "Lindsey is..." you sighed. "She means well, but she can be a bit...uppity about my love life? She always points out when I don't have a boyfriend, and it obviously makes me feel...well, like crap."

"Again, sorry," Peter said, grabbing Teddy and cuddling into him. It was honestly a cute picture—not that you would admit that to your best friend. "But you don't have to find a date to the wedding unless you really want one, you know? You shouldn't do anything just because of what other people are gonna think."

You smiled slightly. "Peter, you're starting to sound like an after-school special again." You paused. "But you have a point...I don't want the stress of finding some random guy for the wedding, and I can't bring just a friend..." you lit up. "So, I could make my own boyfriend! Peter, you're a boy, right?"

Peter laughed softly. "Last time I checked, yeah."

"Could you..." you started. "I mean, I don't want to take advantage. You're too kind for your own good sometimes. But, if you wanted to go to a beautiful destination wedding on a beach at Prince Edward Island..." you rocked on your feet from heel to toe. "You could maybe play the role of my fake boyfriend?"

Peter blinked, the smile not leaving his face, though his eyes appeared distant. "I don't know, y/n. That seems—"

"You're right," you shook your head. "It's not right of me to ask that—you need to be here because Spider-Man needs to be here. Forget I said anything. I'll figure something out. Maybe I'll download Tinder again..." although you tried not to, you made a face at the thought of plunging back into the cesspool.

Peter gave you a strange look, then, as if there were some sort of misunderstanding. You didn't like that—understanding social cues were a hit or miss, but communication with Peter was usually crystal clear.

"Wait," Peter shook his head with a sigh. "It's a beach wedding, right? At some point, they're probably gonna have popcorn shrimp..."

You smiled slightly. "Are you seriously thinking of going on a four hour plane ride there and back, pretending to be my boyfriend, and giving up your entire weekend just for...popcorn shrimp?"

"Yeah, of course," Peter nodded. "I've gone on trips and taken time away from being Spider-Man before. If anything really goes wrong, I can find my way back and try to help. Besides, I don't want this Lindsey girl to make you feel bad. I might not be the best looking stand-in boyfriend, but at least I'm here with fast and free shipping." He did some half-hearted jazz hands, though his smile was genuine.

"You're the best, Peter!" You sat down beside him, pulling him (and Teddy) into a hug. "And don't you dare talk bad about yourself. We're gonna go to that wedding with two missions—one, we're gonna make everyone jealous with what a cute fake couple we are. Two, we're gonna get you as much popcorn shrimp as you want."

"Sounds like a plan," Peter agreed, leaning his head against yours.

You could only hope that he really wanted to do this. You remembered all of those faux-sweet comments Lindsey would make about how she worried about you being alone. With Peter's help, you'd make even those newlyweds jealous, all the while making sure you and Peter had the times of your life on the trip.

———

The first bump in the road hit you when you arrived at the hotel room.

The flight there was nice; you and Peter watched movies and played games. In the last hour, you had drifted off to sleep leaning against Peter's shoulder. That was a little embarrassing to wake up to, but it was nothing that hadn't happened before.

This had never happened before.

"One bed," Peter commented blankly, though the surprise across his features was clear.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you huffed, dropping your bags down onto the massive bed. The place appeared pretty romantic, with a plush red duvet and a light dimmer. There was even a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, and—

"Chocolate dipped strawberries," you lit up, going over to the display and reading the adjoining card.

"Are we in the wrong room?" Peter asked. "'Cause I can go back down and—"

You shook your head, holding up the card with a smile. "For y/n and Peter, Compliments of Lindsey and Matt. You know, this doesn't surprise me at all. Lindsey's always had money, and she likes to keep up her appearances."

Peter narrowed his eyes, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he watched you eat one of the strawberries. "I'm still not sure if we're supposed to like Lindsey."

You shrugged. "She's got her flaws, but I like her. Almost as much as I like these strawberries. Almost." You offered him a strawberry, expecting him to take it. What you did not expect was for him to lean forward and take the strawberry with his mouth. Your face flushed, though you weren't sure why. You and Peter had done that with fries before, why were strawberries different? It was probably just the romantic vibe of the room, with the dimmed lights and the—

"So, the bed," you tried to distract yourself from that odd train of thought. "I can try to get a different room, but Lindsey might get wind of it and start asking questions...it's fine." You shook your head, offering Peter a smile. "I can just sleep on the floor."

Peter laughed. "You'd sleep on the floor? No way. This isn't like crashing at Ned's studio after a night out. This is a nice vacation. I'll take the floor."

"I don't want you on the floor," you protested.

"I don't think anyone wants either of us on the floor, that's why we're here fake-dating each other." Peter pointed out. He said the joke quickly, as if not thinking about it, and his cheeks grew pink.

You snickered. You knew Peter hated when he let the dirty jokes in his mind get ahead of him, but it was something that endeared you to him. He wasn't always Spider-Man the superhero, or Peter Parker, dressed like a Mormon to meet your parents for brunch. Sometimes he was almost...normal.

You knew more than anything that nothing could be normal for Peter.

You rolled your eyes and finally settled. "If it's not pushing any boundaries, maybe we could just...share the bed? If you promise not to sleep naked, I mean."

You don't know what prompted you to say that...or to picture it, though you quickly tried to dismiss it.

"Okay," Peter's voice was surprisingly soft at the suggestion. "I mean, just a couple hours ago you were drooling on my shoulder on the plane, so—"

"I said I was sorry!" You interjected, your own cheeks heating.

Peter grinned. "You know, I think I brought my nightgown in case this exact thing—" the rest of his smartass reply was cut off as you pushed a pillow into his face, only able to hear a muffled laugh.

———

You were too focused on your own breathing. It was unnatural.

You rolled over to see the clock on Peter's side. 12:54 AM. You huffed, trying to nuzzle into your pillow. You'd had a couple glasses of champagne with Peter, which typically would have put you to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, but...

But...

"Can't sleep?"

Peter's voice was soft and low with sleep, though not so much so that you worried you had woken him. You couldn't see him in the dark, though you could picture him—tussled brown hair, his baggy I Survived NYC shirt wrinkled against the sheets.

You always took notice of him in the mornings—when you spent the night at his place or vice versa, and he'd make you both waffles. You could appreciate a gesture from a friend, but in those strange moments, he seemed almost like a boyfriend.

"No," you replied. "Not used to the space, I guess."

Peter nodded—you could hear it against the sheets in the darkness. "I get that—'m living the dream, though. Couldn't tell you the last time I had a girl in my bed."

"Gross," you jabbed him in the ribs, and you smiled at the sound of his snicker. "In your dreams, Parker."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter murmured. "I do kinda miss it, though. I don't have a lot of...experience, but that's not what I'm thinking about..."

In that moment, you were sure Peter was talking some half-asleep nonsense. You were tempted to ask him some silly questions, like what his dream blunt rotation would be, or what his social security number was.

Instead, you pressed on, curious. "What are you thinking about, then?"

"Mm," Peter hummed, hesitant even in this careless state. "Just...being in bed with someone, holding them close, feeling 'em breathe. Knowing that you're keeping them safe. Knowing they want you there, that you're not a screwup..."

Something in Peter's tone made your eyes sting. "You're nowhere near a screwup. You're a hero."

"I know..." he let out a soft breath, though something in it sounded heavy.

"I was friends with you before I knew about that, anyway," you pointed out. "Because you're more than a hero. You're Peter. That matters so much more than anything else you do. Anybody would be lucky to be in bed with you...even if you have the dirty mind of a teen about it." You grinned.

Peter let out another breath, this one of laughter. A comfortable silence spanned between the pair of you.

It was silent for so long, you thought Peter had fallen asleep.

"Do you," he started, and you listened curiously. "Would you be okay with maybe cuddling with me? We've done it on the couch with movies, but I know this is different, so..."

"Yeah," you replied in agreement. "I mean, um—yeah, of course, that's fine..."

Slowly, a little awkwardly in the dark, Peter reached out, his fingertips delicate against your skin as he sought you out. He found your forearm first, reaching up and tracing along the palm of your hand.

"Sorry," his voice seemed much more awake now, much more aware. "If you could maybe just..."

You nodded even though he couldn't see you in the dark. You rolled onto your other side, facing away from him as you pushed back against him. You felt the warmth of his chest against your back, the feeling all-too-overwhelming. The feeling increased tenfold when, all implications disregarded, Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath against the crook of your neck.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been in bed with someone like this.

You let out a soft, shaky breath of your own, trying to calm the sudden bout of nervous butterflies in your stomach that now fluttered with no bounds. Strangely enough, that feeling only lasted for a moment. The last thing you remember was the feeling of Peter's thigh moving against yours, wrapping you closer in the embrace. It was then that comfort overwhelmed you, and you found yourself drifting off to sleep easier than ever before.

———

The morning light was bright despite the blinds, waking you up as you hummed in protest.

You and Peter were still cuddled close together, though the embrace had lost all structure. His leg was slung over your waist, his hand somehow cupping the side of your face. He was nuzzled between your shoulder blades, letting out warm breaths against your skin that woke you up far more than the brightness.

"Peter," your voice was low in your drowsiness. You rolled away before stretching. "You were a second away from putting me in a headlock..."

"Mm," Peter hummed. "Sorry..." he yawned, blinking as he processed what was going on. Something then seemed to click within him, and he stiffened like a deer in headlights. "Shit, sorry!" He repeated, his cheeks flushing. "Man, I didn't mean to do that..."

"It's okay," you insisted. "Why are you all jumpy? What, were you worried about your super-strength or something?"

"Oh, uh," Peter avoided your eyes. "Yeah, that's exactly it—I mean, I could crush a watermelon between my thighs without even worrying—without even thinking about it, so..." he lifted his arm up to flex, which you glanced at with raised brows. He was no Captain America, but he was built well enough.

"Okay," you said slowly. Realization then dawned on you, and you sighed, your cheeks heating. “Is it that we, like, cuddled last night? Because that didn't have to mean anything—we both just like cuddling."

"Sure," Peter nodded. "I mean, I cuddled with Ned all the time in high school, but..."

"But?" You inquired.

"No but!" Peter shook his head. "No but at all, an absolute flat-ass situation..." he paused to catch his breath before nodding, his mouth pressed in a thin line. "I'm gonna go get ready."

He then went and locked himself in the bathroom. You looked at the door, then over to the closet where his clothes were, wondering what the heck had gotten into Peter.

———

Luckily, Peter seemed calmed down by the reception. The ceremony must have bored him; he kept glancing at you the entire time, as well as shaking his leg until you put a hand on his knee to still him.

Despite the social atmosphere, Peter seemed to open up more. After the first few times of introducing himself as "y/n's boyfriend", the obvious looks in your direction slowed to a stop. That did not stop his awkwardness, though. As endeared as you were to him, you were glad he never had to do any acting to save the world.

"Excuse me," a small voice piped up. It wasn't the umpteenth elderly couple doing their rounds of greetings, but instead a little girl of about six years old. She wore a pastel pink dress and small matching heels.

"Oh, hi," you smiled at the little girl. "You were the flower girl—Katie, right?"

Katie nodded. "I wanted a dance." She looked over at Peter, then back at you. "Mind if I take him for a spin?"

You nearly snorted. "Oh, sure—what do you think, Peter?"

Peter seemed to be trying to tone down his amused smile. "I'd be honored, Katie." He took her hand and allowed her to lead him to the floor.

As you ate—the shrimp here being unfortunately coconut, not popcorn—you watched them dance. She was standing on top of his shoes, and he seemed to be masking the pain from the jabbing of her tiny heels. As he smiled and chatted with her, you couldn't help but smile as well. Peter was good with kids—you wondered if that came from being Spider-Man, or just being Peter.

When the song was over, Katie curtsied and Peter bowed in turn, as if they were at a ball. Peter returned to the table beaming, and for some reason, it made your heart catch in your chest. You felt as if you wanted to say something, though you weren't sure what, or if you were allowed to.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Lindsey, who was practically glowing with excitement in her cream-colored reception gown.

"Hey!" You gave her a hug. "Wow, you look gorgeous. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Lindsey swept a black, curly strand of hair from her face. "And you do too! Is this," she gestured to Peter. "Is this your plus one? I saw him dancing with Katie, it was adorable!"

Peter nodded. "I'm y/n's boyfriend," he stood to shake her hand, then her new husband's. "Peter."

"It's so nice to meet you, Peter," Lindsey replied. "I didn't think y/n was seeing anyone, but she never lets me get too nosy. I was worried about her for a little bit, though!" She laughed.

Peter gave you a look, as if some of your previous description of her was clicking into place.

"We've been together for a little while," Peter shrugged, fixing Lindsey with a curious look. "Nine months, right, babe?" He glanced back at you and smiled, his gaze warm. "It feels like it's been years, but also a few great days."

For a moment, you sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond. His acting was so real; he seemed utterly infatuated.

Lindsey gasped softly, placing a hand on her heart. "That's exactly how I feel with my husband. Well, how'd you two meet?"

"Um," Peter started with a slight smile. "We were at this bagel place on 76th, and I was ordering my usual—"

"An everything bagel," you added out of habit. "With plain cream cheese, smushed down really flat, like a weirdo."

"Exactly," Peter laughed. "And you said that, too, remember? I remember you scoffed, and when I asked, you said that only a weirdo would want a bagel that was...what was it? Looked like it was ran over?"

"I had a point," you replied. "And you asked me what I liked, since I was such an expert in all things bagel. So I got my—"

"Blueberry bagel," Peter recalled. "Strawberry cream cheese, plus you paid extra for assorted fruit on top, like an absolute princess."

You grinned. "But you paid for mine...and you walked me to the subway, like a gentleman, while I spent the entire time roasting you on your food preferences."

"And then I offered to take her to dinner," Peter looked up at Lindsey. "I said that I knew this great pizza place, and if she wasn't blown away, I'd cover her bill. Turns out she was blown away, as expected," he met your eyes with a smile, reaching over and grabbing your hand. "But I paid, anyway. It was worth it times a thousand to get to know her..."

You squeezed his hand, and in that moment, you felt as if something were squeezing your heart, too. The way he talked about it made it sound so romantic...but, of course, neither of you mentioned the fact that his friends were at the dinner. That you had asked for it to not be a date, because you had been stood up a few nights before and were not feeling the dating scene. It was a friend thing, and at that dinner your friend status was cemented.

You never thought you wanted anything else, but...

"Excuse me," Peter's voice brought you back to reality. He smiled thinly at both you and Lindsey before standing and starting for the exit.

Perhaps he just needed to use the restroom down the hall, but something about his exit seemed...swift. Offering a smile to Lindsey as well, you followed in Peter's steps.

When you finally found him, he had a hand over his eyes, his face flushed as he tried to steady his breathing.

You felt as if you'd walked in on something you shouldn't have—or perhaps you needed to.

"Peter?" You asked softly.

Peter nearly jumped, looking at you before making a pointed effort not to do so. "Hey! Hey...y/n...I'm alright. Just...taking a second to—"

"Cry?" You asked, the word slipping out before you could think about it, and you slapped a hand over your mouth.

Peter laughed. You rushed through surprise, relief, and concern so fast, you had whiplash.

"Yeah," Peter admitted with a sigh. "I'm...not alright. But I'm trying to be. Just...go enjoy the reception, don't let me ruin it."

You shook your head. "That story...it was how we met, but you made it sound romantic."

Peter nodded. "I thought that was what we were supposed to do."

You swallowed. "It sounded really convincing. You...you like me, don't you, Peter?"

Peter seemed laser-focused on the sleeve of his suit. "How could I not, y/n?" He settled. "You're beautiful, you're fun in the same weird way I am, and you have no idea when someone's into you—you're exactly my type. But...I mean, I was trying so hard not to be that guy. You know, the 'be my girlfriend or I'll never talk to you again' guy? I can't do that—not to you, and not to myself. I want you in my life in whatever way I can have you, even if it kills me, because you're really important to me. And if you don't want to talk to me again, I understand, I won't push—"

His words faltered into silence as you reached out and held his hand.

"I like you, too, Peter. I don't think I realized it until now, but..." You started to smile. "You're one of my favorite people in the world. You’re already a great friend, so I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Peter seemed incredulous, though a moment later, his uncertain smile grew until he was fully beaming. His smile was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile as well. You went in for a hug, and he in turn lifted you, spinning you around as if you were in a romcom.

"So," Peter started. "Do you wanna go back in there and turn up the charm now that we're a real couple?"

You pondered the idea for about a half a second before shaking your head. "Screw those guys." You said. "You wanna get out of here? I bet we could find a good ice cream place."

"Sounds good to me," Peter replied, offering you a fist to bump. "Let's go to the room and get changed into some comfier clothes."

As he started towards the stairs, you reached for his hand, your heart skipping a beat as he squeezed your hand gently. You didn't want to rush things, though you wondered...perhaps when you got up to the room, you could kiss him. Perhaps, if he were interested—and while that romantic room was on someone else's bill—you could do a little bit more.

[ktwritesstuff]

Into the Fire (a Game of Thrones fanfic, sort of...)

Title: Into the Fire Fandom: Game of Thrones, with all due disrespect :D Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Oberyn Martel x Targaryen!reader (with a side of Ellaria) Word Count: ~4,000 Summary: Prince Oberyn saves your life and eventually does what Oberyn does with you. Beta-read by the illustrious @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Content Notes: I don't know that much about Game of Thrones and most of what I do know I don't care for. But I do like Prince Oberyn. Expect a bit of violence, first time, light breeding kink, oral, poly-dynamics, unprotected p-in-v, probably a bunch of other tropes I've missed. It's Oberyn, "dead dove, do not eat" applies.

Into the Fire

You had escaped the madness at King’s Landing (in part thanks to the belated arrival of Ned Stark’s troops and the ensuing confusion among the enemy’s forces.)  You did not make it five miles–on foot at night–before being set upon by slavers, opportunists taking advantage of the chaos.  At least they saw more value in you alive than dead.

You were frightened when the soldiers came, thinking they must have been sent by Baratheon the usurper.  From the wagon at first all you could see was the flash of a golden spear in the firelight.  A whole troop of men fell upon the bandits, but there may as well have only been one.  He moved so swiftly and so well, like a tongue of red flame wicking through the forest.  

He was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, even before they pulled you from the wagon and you saw the banner emblazoned with a red sun.  These men were of House Martell, not Lannister, and if your luck held you might live to see another day.

“What is this?” asked the man in red.

“A Targaryen bastard by the looks of her,” one of the soldier’s growled, seizing a handful of your corn-silk hair and turning your face toward the fire.  Your looks were not so other-worldly as your cousins, but at least you bore a close enough resemblance that he did not mistake you for a Lannister.    

“I’m nobody,” you pleaded.  “I’m nobody.”

The man in red drew close enough that you could make out the features of his face.  You had seen Prince Oberyn only once before, at Rhaegar and Elia’s wedding feast, but his looks were unforgettable.  You were surprised it had taken you so long to recognize him and even more surprised that he seemed to recognize you.

“I know your face,” he said.  “You were a maid to Princess Elia; you were at King’s Landing.  Tell me what you saw.”

“I hid–” you whimpered as the soldier pulled your hair.  

“You abandoned your lady,” he said.  

“No,” you cried.  “When Lannister turned on us, the guards took her.  I hid in the servant’s passages.  I heard Tywin Lannister give the order to the one they call the Mountain to murder Elia’s children.  I went to the nursery, but the children were gone.  I searched for them–”

You admitted to all that you had seen.  The gore, the horror.  Elia cleaved in two from root to navel and her children smashed.  The anguish that would never leave you.  All the while Prince Oberyn’s face remained still as a stone, but you could see the sorrow and rage behind his dark eyes.

“You lie!” The soldier accused.  “How could a mere girl escape such chaos unspoiled?”  

“The same way anyone does,” you said.  “Blind luck.”

The prince paced alongside the wagon, assessing you, sizing you up.    

“And you’re sure it was Tywin who gave the order?” he asked.  

“I swear,” you nodded.  “On my life.”  

The prince wanted to ride for King’s Landing immediately and dispatch Tywin himself, but ultimately his generals dissuaded him from such rash action.  In the meantime, they gave you bread and wine and allowed you to rest in the first safety you had known in days.  It was dawn before you saw the prince again.  Even with a frown and deep lines etching his forehead, he was still the loveliest man you had ever seen.

“I can leave you a mount and a bit of gold for your journey,” he said.  “But I cannot spare any of my men to return you to your people.”

Over time the sacred words of your house had become twisted.  The life-giving warmth of fire and the sacred blood of kinship and covenant had turned to violence and ambition.  Was it any wonder that Aerys’s reign had festered?  But sweet Elia, a gentle princess and devoted mother, you would have followed her anywhere.

“I loved your sister,” you said.  “Her people are my people.”  

“Very well,” Prince Oberyn said, and for a moment a look crossed his face.  You would have sworn he was pleased.  “We sail for Dorne first thing tomorrow.”

 

You had passed six long years in Prince Oberyn’s harem, wanting for almost nothing.  The court at Dorne was filled with carnal delights you have never before experienced: music and dancing, glittering jewels, perfumed baths, and the finest food.  All of it available to you.

And the prince’s other concubines doted on you.  When you first arrived in Dorne at 19 they considered you a baby.  Meanwhile gossip at court held that your young cousin had been married off to a Dothraki warlord across the sea.  Not that you would have traded places with young Daenerys, but in six years Oberyn had not once invited you to his bed.  Besides the occasional chaste kiss on the hand or cheek he had not laid a finger on you.  

Ellaria counseled you to be patient, that your time would come.  But after so much time you were beginning to think Prince Oberyn had only taken you in as a matter of duty–that he had no desire for you at all.  Like all the prince’s lovers, you were free to have any man or woman you desired, but you didn’t want another lover.  You wanted the prince.

For your twenty-fifth nameday, the prince’s concubines plaited your hair, painted your face, and dressed you in fine silks.  You felt lovely and terribly grownup, despite your lack of experience.

“Come,” Ellaria said with a conspiratorial grin.  “Let’s go bathe in the southern garden, where the prince will see you from his window.”

The southern garden was a lush oasis tucked inside the palace walls.  There was a clear saltwater pond surrounded by dry grasses and desert flowers.  You disrobed in the shade of the palm fronds and slid into the water.

The lack of modesty among the prince’s inner circle had of course taken some getting used to after the formalities of King’s Landing.  But ultimately you came to realize, there were many worthy admirers of your particular pale softness among the hard and tanned bodies of Dorne.  Why should you deny them their pleasure, when those who didn’t appreciate your form were free to look away.

“Aren’t you coming?” you called to Ellaria, who was sunning herself in a chaise.  

“I’m quite happy to enjoy the view,” Ellaria said as you swam.  You chuckled at her playful flirting.  You could understand, despite her low birth, how she could command so much of the prince’s affection.  In all of Dorne, her beauty knew no equal and her charm was irresistible. 

You loved to swim–floating, mostly–especially when the water was so cool and inviting.  It was still early, the sun had not yet reached its apex, but the air was already hot and dry.  You could see the prince’s window, watched his curtains moving in the warm breeze.  You saw the prince come to the window, looking as if he had just roused from sleep.  He leaned on the sill, watching as you stroked your way lazily across the pool.

When the sun had warmed your belly, you turned over to paddle your way back into the shade.  You lost sight of Prince Oberyn, only for him to reappear on the steps down to the garden in his splendid red robe with a sheet of fine linen draped over one arm.  

“You should keep this one out of the sun, Ellaria,” he warned.  “She wasn’t made for it.”

You frowned as Prince Oberyn beckoned you to him.  You rose from the pool reluctantly and he wrapped you in the sheet.

“I’m not afraid of being burnt, my Prince,” you protested as he draped the fabric over your shoulders and rubbed your arms to dry them.  

“I’m well aware, my little dragon,” he said, touching your chin gently.  “But how would it look for my prize to wander through Sunspear as red as a berry.”

You tucked the sheet under your arms and tied it off to secure it.  

“Isn’t she beautiful, my love,” Ellaria said, rising from her chaise to join you in the shade.  

“Very beautiful,” Oberyn agreed.  He rested his hands on your shoulders, looking past you to gaze at Ellaria.  “All the more reason to keep her from burning to a crisp.”

“Hair like spun gold,” Ellaria noted, gathering your damp braids in her hands, wrapping them back into your gold hairpin. “Skin so smooth, just like fresh cream.  And so soft.”

The prince hummed to himself, watching her work.  

Ellaria pressed her front against your back, she was almost a head taller than you, and you could feel the warmth of her sex against the small of your back.  Her hands moved down your neck, her fingertips brushing the tops of your breasts.     

“You like her soft, don’t you, lover?  I’ve seen how you enjoy a bedfellow who gives.”  

“I do,” said the prince, dipping his mouth toward Ellaria’s lips, perched beside your ear.  “Why do you think I keep her so well?”

A jolt of excitement raced up your spine from your core as they kissed. You realized you enjoyed hearing them talk about you, around you, like this.

Ellaria slid her hands around your waist to the prince’s hips, pulling him into your body.  You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your belly.  

Ellaria moved one hand to the side of your head, turning away from the prince to catch your mouth in a kiss.  Her lips were impossibly soft against yours and she tasted like honeyed wine.  Then Prince Oberyn bowed his face toward yours and you didn’t know whose tongue was in your mouth.  You felt dizzy with pleasure.  

Ellaria pulled away and you moaned for the loss, but Prince Oberyn was holding your face in his large hands and his tongue was moving past your teeth, delving toward your throat.  Your body felt like soft clay, molding into them.  Ellaria kissed your neck, taking your hands in hers, moving them into Prince Oberyn’s robe.

“Like this,” she whispered, guiding your hands over his chest, fingernails scraping against his nipples, palming the hard muscles traversing his abdomen.  

The prince’s skin was nearly as smooth as yours, until your hands reached the wiry hair trailing down to his swollen cock.  The prince moaned into your mouth as Ellaria positioned your hands around him.  

“Gently,” she instructed.  “You’re doing so well.” 

As you carefully stroked the prince’s shaft, Ellaria’s hands moved across your body, kneading your breasts, traveling down the soft curves of your belly to grope at your mons, assessing the wetness of your inner folds. 

“She’s ready,” Ellaria said.  “Take her.”

Prince Oberyn pulled away from you panting.  Your own chest heaved with exertion and your head swam.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Not today, lover,” Ellaria said, running a perfectly shaped fingernail down your nose affectionately.  “Today is for our little dragon.”    

“Come,” Oberyn instructed, leading you by the hand up the steps to his bedchamber.  “There’s another nameday gift waiting for you yet.” 

You hesitated, turning back toward Ellaria, looking for assurance or permission.

“Go,” she said, shooing you along with a friendly smile.  “Go!  Enjoy yourself.”

You followed Prince Oberyn up the stairs, full of uncertainty and excitement.  His bedchamber was the finest you had ever seen: the heavy wooden furniture was ornately carved and polished to a mirror-like shine, hand-woven rugs stretched nearly from wall-to-wall.  At the very center of the room was an exquisite canopy bed with silken drapes of red and gold.

“Sit,” the prince urged, motioning to the bed.  

You took a seat at the end of the bed, leaning back on your forearms, anticipating your long-awaited ravishing with something akin to glee.  Instead, the prince retrieved a lidded basket from the table and brought it over to the bed.

“For you,” he said.  “A gift; be gentle with it.”

Your lips parted in surprise.  You lifted the lid of the basket, gazing down into its contents:  armor-like scales, writhing, and hissing softly.  You counted three pointed, perfect heads with shining black eyes. 

“Oh,” you sighed, reaching into the basket, allowing one of the serpents to coil around your fingers.  “They are beautiful, my prince.” 

You lifted the first creature out of the basket; its scales shining copper in the sunlight as its forked tongue darted out to catch your scent.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Only if they bite,” Oberyn said, reaching into the basket to retrieve another snake for you to examine.  

“Are they likely to bite?” you asked, the snake in your hand coiled its tail around your wrist.  You marveled at it, reaching for its final companion, a tiny, emerald-green thing which wove its head in and out from between your fingers.

“Not these hand-raised babies,” Oberyn said, pressing his face toward the snake’s in a show of faith.  “All they want is to be kept warm and safe and fed on the finest rats Dorne has to offer.”

“Like me,” you laughed.  

“Are you partial to rat, little dragon?” Oberyn smiled, returning the snakes to their basket.  “I will have to inform Cook!” 

You laughed, leaning back in Oberyn’s bed as he set the basket aside.

“Thank you, my Prince,” you said.  “I adore them.”

“I am glad,” Oberyn said, returning to the bed.  “Rumor has it your cousin has added three dragons to her command, but this is the best I could do.”

“They’re splendid, my Prince,” you said.

Oberyn leaned over you, placing a hand on the base of your throat as he kissed you.  

“I can’t wait to show the others.”  

“Catalina is afraid of snakes,” he warned, his mouth trailing down your neck.  You cradled his head in your hands, tilting your chin back to expose your throat.

“Then Catalina will learn to stay out of my room,” you chuckled.

Oberyn paused as his mouth reached the space between your breasts, curling his fingers under the sheet that still covered you.  His eyes darted to your face.

“May I?”  

“Please,” you gasped, arching into him.  

Oberyn opened the sheet, taking each of your breasts in his hand, pressing the flat of his tongue against each nipple one after the other, nipping and sucking until they were swollen and sensitive.  You could feel your arousal coiling like a snake at the base of your spine.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against your skin.  “So sweet.”

“Now you,” you pleaded, touch the collar of his robe.  “Please, my Prince.”  

Oberyn grinned, rising from the bed to undo his robe.  His body perfectly lean and hard and golden stood in stark contrast to yours.  His cock thick and long, sprouting from a nest of dark hair fully erect; you thought he must be large, though you didn’t have much to compare him to. 

You turned over on the bed, crawling to him on hands and knees.

“Can I taste you, my Prince,” you asked.

Oberyn took your face in his hand, playfully squeezing your cheeks until your lips pursed.

“How could I deny this face,” he said, settling onto the bed.  

Oberyn turned onto his back, supporting himself on his forearms so he could watch as you moved over him.  You took his shaft in one hand, lapping at the tip.  It was different than you expected, a heady, earthy musk, salty and sour on your tongue.  Oberyn made a soft, satisfied sound from deep in his throat.

“More,” Oberyn instructed, placing a hand on the back of your head.  

You opened your mouth wide, wrapping your lips around him.  Oberyn sighed, letting his head fall back against the cushions.  Try as you might, you could not reach to his root, surfacing for air only to gag yourself in the next attempt.  As you moved up and down Oberyn’s length, the sounds of pleasure turned to something more like discomfort.

“Stop,” he ordered through gritted teeth, silk sheets bunched in one hand.  “Stop.”

You sat back on your heels with a frown as Oberyn sighed with relief to have his cock freed from your toothsome maw.  

“I’ve displeased you, my Prince,” you said, horrified that the unbreakable prince of House Martell would lay down his weapon rather than suffer your untutored enthusiasm.  

“No,” Oberyn beckoned you to him.  “Never.  You need more practice, that’s all.”  

You stretched out on the bed beside Oberyn and his hands explored the curves of your body.  

“You shall have your pick of my men as a bedfellow,” he assured you, interlacing his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips.  “And once you’ve had sufficient preparation, we can try again.  You’ll have many more opportunities to amuse me, little dragon.”

Oberyn’s fingers wandered, tracing each of the pale lines adorning your breasts and belly.  If one didn’t know better, they might have assumed you had already had a baby.

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” Oberyn explained.

“On my honor, I am a maid, my lord,” you said as his fingers circled the sensitive jewel at the peak of your folds.  The serpent in your belly that had lain dormant for so long coiled tighter.

“On my honor, I care not,” Oberyn teased.  “Though it is a special pleasure to be the first to delve into this cave. I don’t know what tales are circulated by Targaryen oldwives, but in Dorne our women are taught never to suffer inattentive lovers.  Maid or not this should be quite pleasurable for you.”  

You bit your lip as Oberyn probed one finger past your entrance, then a second.  A little tight, a little stretched, but not uncomfortable.   

“More?” he asked, probing deeper.  You gripped his shoulders and shook your head.  

“Not yet,” you said.  

Oberyn waited, pressing his thumb into the peak of the wishbone between your legs.  The serpent writhed.

“What are you doing to me,” you moaned, clutching the silk sheets.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Oberyn said, his fingers curling inside you.  You shrieked as he touched a place inside you that sent a lightning bolt of pleasure racing up your spine.  

“There,” Oberyn chuckled, withdrawing his hand to hold your face as he kissed you.  “I’m sorry to report you are too small to take all of me.  There are, of course, other avenues we can explore.”

Oberyn reached around you to squeeze the globe of your ass and you gasped in excitement.  

“But that is for another time,” he said, moving over you.  “Today is yours to enjoy.  When I press into you I want you to close your legs so I can fuck your thighs while I fuck your cunt.”

You nodded, spreading your knees so that Oberyn could settle between them, aligning his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you spreading the slickness of your arousal over himself.  You felt a sharp tug as you closed your knees around him.

“Pain?” Oberyn asked, slowly pressing his hips into you.  

You shook your head.  “It’s not bad.”  

“Breathe, little dragon,” he said, bowing his head to kiss your breasts.  

Oberyn’s movements put pressure against that sensitive spot and as he flicked his hips into you, you could feel the serpent in your core coiling tighter and tighter.  You moaned with abandon, letting your head fall back against the cushions.  

“Good?”  

“Yes,” you panted, clawing at his arms, his back, scrambling for purchase. 

“My little dragon has a fire in her belly,” Oberyn teased. “So hot for me, strong and eager.”

You moaned, arching into him. 

“Tell me,” you pleaded, reaching to pull him into another kiss, hot, wet, and hungry.  “Tell me more about what you want to do to me.”

“Such a needy little girl,” Oberyn panted, gripping your thigh.  “Already drunk off my cock.”

You purred in agreement, biting down on Oberyn’s lower lip, your pupils blown so wide your pale eyes were nearly as dark as his.    

“I’ll make you mine,” he said.  “A finer mount than any dragon. My love, my plaything.”

“Please,” you mewled. “Anything…anything you desire.”

 Oberyn ran a hand down your body, arching his back like a cat, his gaze settling on the space below your naval. 

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” he said. “I want your breasts to swell and your belly to stretch with my child.”

You moaned, dragging your hands down his sweat damp back to grip the hard muscles of his ass.  The snake coiling in your belly finally struck, every fiber in your body crackled like hot coals.  You gasped as Oberyn fucked you through your climax. 

As his thrusts slowed to a desperate grind, he withdrew from you and spent his seed on your belly and chest.  He rolled off of you, onto his pillows, dragging one hand through the mess he had made of you. 

He pressed two fingers to your lips and you took them into your mouth, suckling his spend from them like a newborn kitten after cream. 

“You’ve done me wrong, Oberyn,” you sighed, turning onto your side to meet his gaze. 

Oberyn reached over you to strike your ass with the flat of his hand once, hard, and you yelped. Another thrill of pleasure raced through you. 

“You forget yourself,” he warned. “I am still your prince.”

He grabbed your face and kissed you, claiming your mouth with his own.  You panted as he finally released you, resting your hands on his chest. 

“You promised me a baby,” you said. “And all you’ve made me is a mess.”

“In time, my sweet,” he said, gathering your body into his. “I’d like to have you to myself a while longer.”  

Oberyn brushed your sweat-damp hair from your face and kissed your brow. 

“You need another bath,” he warned. “To freshen up for the feast.”

“What feast, my prince,” you asked, tracing the neat line of his beard with your fingers. 

“We could not let a 25th nameday go unmarked,” he said with a wry smile. “Just a small celebration, little dragon.  My brother has graciously allowed us use of the great hall to mark the occasion, or at least he will.”

“You spoil me, my lord,” you sighed.

 

Prince Oberyn escorted you to the great hall himself; there was already a fire raging in the very center of the room filled with wine and laughter and gaiety.  You didn’t even notice Ellaria until she managed to slink up behind you to whisper in your ear.

“You are glowing,” she said and you laughed as her arms trailed around your waist.  "I take it you enjoyed your time together."

“Very much,” you said.  “Truthfully I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

“Then sit,” she said.  “Lover, we’re going to sit.”

She leaned over to kiss Prince Oberyn on the mouth–the same mouth that just hours before had transversed every unspeakable place on your body.  You took a seat on a cushion at one of the low tables surrounding the fire and Oberyn summoned a page to bring you wine and sweet date cakes, before running off to make merry with a handsome young courtier.  

“Did you put him up to this?” you asked as Ellaria draped one arm around you.  

Ellaria scoffed.  

“Hardly,” she said, twisting her fingers through your hair.  “A nudge, that’s all.  Just a little reassurance.  Even princes know to fear dragons.”

You took Ellaria’s hand in yours and placed a kiss on her palm.

“Thank you.”   

End Notes: Ta da! Thanks to all who voted and all who've read this far. What do you think? Are you interested in more?

[afictionalwhor3]

Found Family

a/n: I know this isn't hotd related but I've had this idea since finals started and had to get it out of my head.

Summary: Maybe you and Peter can help each other heal

Warnings: domestic abuse, suggested sa (not described), past trauma, suggested eating disorder, angst

Word Count: 3.9k

Post No Way Home Peter Parker x Reader

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit at this table with you? I'll sit at the other end and I promise I won't bother you," You ask gently. Peter looks at you taking one of his headphones out and nodding his head.

"Oh uh yeah go ahead. No problem" He says smiling politely and you nod appreciatively. You sit down at the other end of the medium-sized wood table. You proceed to place your bookbag next to you while taking out your notebook and laptop. Peter takes one more quick glance at you before going back to the work in front of him.  

After Peter passed his GED test, he decided to start taking college classes. It was nothing crazy, a couple classes, a few credits, but he knew he owed it to everyone no longer here to pursue a college degree. The workload allowed him plenty of time to be Spiderman while giving him some semblance of what a normal life feels like again. Which was one of the reasons he came to the library. The apartment was often too quiet. Not for the lack of his neighbors trying. The people down the hall had an affinity for rock music, and the people above him… they liked to get it on you could say. He could block that sound out, but when he looked around his apartment it was a painful reminder of how alone he was. The few pictures he found of himself with May, MJ, and Ned he got framed and lived on his dresser. They brought him both pain and happiness every time his eyes landed on them. Peter loved them all as much as person could love someone else, but they were also a painful indicator of a life lost. The library was quiet, but the people that came in and out constantly alleviated a little of that lonely feeling. And the table he was currenly at had become his favorite. Peter did not have much these days so a table had become his favorite. The light directly above was bright, but not blinding compared to the naturally low lighting in the building. It was right next to a window with a beautiful view of outside, and he could see a good amount of entrances and exits.  

These were all the same reasons you loved this table. You had sat at others before and found you could not be as productive at those. You understood how odd it was to ask to share a table with someone when there were at least fifty free tables on this floor alone. But, you had a paper due in afew hours and you needed to be your most productive self. You too were taking classes at university and appreciated the quiet calm of the library. Life back where you were from was anything but stable, so the places you found serenity in you tended to cling tightly too. 

You and Peter went about your lives like this for a few months. You didn’t always run into each other, but when you did it was nothing more than a tight-lipped, polite smile before you both went back to whatever you were working on. You both were nothing more than a blip on each other’s radar. Peter began to pay closer attention to you when one day his gaze drifted to you while you were deep in thought as you wrote furiously in your notebook. It was December in New York so naturally the heat in the library was blasting making it hotter than usual. With the sleeves of your sweater pushed up he noticed bruising on your forearms. He didn’t think too much about it, choosing instead to mind his business. For the next couple of weeks there were no more signs of bruising so he figured you must of got in an accident of some sorts. 

But then the next time he saw you there were some serious bruises around your neck and collarbone. He brushed it off as being nothing more than a few extreme love bites not wnating to get involved in anything that didn’t concern him. He told himself he would focus on classes and being Spiderman, not getting distracted by anything else. However, he knew he had to do something when the next time he saw you there was bruising around your eye. He could tell you attempted to cover it with makeup, but he knew more than anyone what a bruise looked like. Peter knew he needed to do something, but he couldn’t exactly Spiderman his way into this situation. Obviously something was going on, but Peter had no idea how to approach this. He could web sling and fight bad guys all day, but helping someone as Peter? He didn’t know it that was possible. While he thought over a plan your bruises only got worse. You would slip up and scratch your arm or adjust your collar and he saw them, bright as day from his perspective. God only knew how many more you had that he couldn’t see. It was breaking his heart and he knew he had do something sooner rather than later. If everything he had to do wasn’t hard enough, you were running into each other significantly less. 

A month since he first picked up on what was going on, Peter saw you again. This time when you sat down Peter took out his headphones. You were immediately concerned thinking he was going to change his mind when he extended an outstretched hand towards you,

“I’m Peter,” He said with a genuine smile. You looked at him suspiciously before putting your hand in his. 

“Y/N, nice to meet you,” You say shaking his hand pulling away after a few seconds. You both could feel the awkward tension growing between you before Peter broke the silence, 

“Sorry I don’t mean to disturb you I just realized we’ve been sitting together all these months and I didn’t even know your name,” He says chuckling a little which makes you smile. 

“Oh yeah, I guess that is kind of nuts. Well nice to meet you Peter, and thank you for letting me sit here. This is gonna sound odd but this is my favorite table,” You say and Peter’s smile gets bigger. 

“Mine too! I-” He starts before getting a few shushes at how loud he got “Sorry. I like it too because I can see all entrances and exits and the view is so nice.” He says and you nod your head quickly in agreeance. 

“Wow- I actually feel the same way,” you say shocked you both were the same type of weird. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. But it was great to finally get your name,” He says as you nod. 

“You as well,” You say opening your laptop and putting your headphones in. That was the last time Peter saw you. 

~2 months later~

It was the middle of March as Peter stood at the top of building looking over the city. Winter refused to let New York out of its crushing grip, a cold chill remaining in the air. Peter replayed that day between you a million times over in his head. He didn’t ask about the bruises he saw because maybe at that time you just needed a friend. He could build your trust and maybe you’d come to him about what was happening. But he never saw you again. The next two weeks he went to the library everyday for hours on end hoping to see you, but you never came. He only hoped that you were out there somewhere okay. You would live in conscious for a very long time. A symbol of one of his many regrets. He takes a deep breath before free falling off the building catching himself with his web as he begins his nightly patrol. 

Moving around steahily his enhanced hearing picked up yelling, there was always yelling in New York. Ready to continue his patrol and not think twice about until he heard “God damnit Y/n!”. There was a million and one chance someone else had your name, but he had to go check. 

“I’m so sorry Jack I promise I’m trying to be better” You plead before feeling a burning sting to your cheek. Before you had a chance to process that the punch to your gut sent you reeling into the glass coffee table. The air left your lungs as you landed feeling the now broken glass did into you . 

“You stupid bitch. I go out there and bust my balls and come home to bullshit every night. The place is a fucking mess,” kick “your food sucks,” kick “And I swear every time I come back your fatter” another kick. There was no point in fighting the tears that streamed down your face. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the pain was because everything hurt. Every kick hit a place that was already bruised already elevating the pain. 

This latest fight had been going on for an hour since he got home. You’ve been in this situation for four months. As pathetic as it sounded, he was all you had. You began dating at the beginning of the semester. You moved across the country for school, but you werne’t leaving much behind. You didn’t have any friends, no family. You ran into Jack one day in the street. He bumped into you and made you spill coffee all over yourself. He apologized so sincerely, and offered to buy you a new one to make it up. When it came to sweeping you off your feet he did everything right. Romantic dates, the perfect gentleman, devilishly attractive. You began dating and moved in with him quickly because his apartment was nicer than the dump you lived in. That was when he first started hitting you. 

It didn’t happen often at first. Maybe if you raised your voice or forgot to pick up something. But he always promised it was the last time. He cried and apologized and begged you to forgive him and you always did. Because in truth, you needed him a lot more than he needed you. Then as time went on everything you did was not good enough in his eye. You didn’t clean well enough, you were too big, even the way you breathed. The first time he broke your rib he told you it was because you were breathing too heavy after going out on a walk together and he’d give you a real reason to have trouble breathing. You had lost about thirty pounds in the last few months both from him restricting your food and yourself.

The library was the last safe space you had. That day Peter talked to you, oh Peter you missed him so much. That day he talked to you, it felt so good to talk to another human being. He seemed nice and genuinely interested in possibly being your friend? You were sitting with each other for so long it would make sense. But you didn’t know Jack followed you to the library that day becoming suspicious of how much time you spent there. When you got back he was furious assuming you were cheating on him. He didn’t give you time to explain yourself and got right to hitting you as soon as you closed the door. You blacked out that night waking up on the floor by the door. 

The rational part of your brain knew you deserved more than this. You didn’t have or deserve to be treated like this. But what if what he said was true? What if you really were unlovable? Beyond fixing? Maybe he really was your best option. Or what if he went back to the way he first was? Loving and attentive, but would all this pain be worth it. When Peter first talked to you you thought about telling him everything. Which is a terrible weight to dump on a stranger, and he seemed so nice. Kind in a way you haven’t experienced in a long time. You decided quickly this was not his problem, there was no reason to burden his life as well. After that incident Jack told you if you ever told anyone he would kill you first and then them. You didn’t want to put Peter in harm’s way which is why you stopped going to the library all together. You thought about him often, and hoped he was out there somewhere doing better than you. 

“I’m sorry Jack. Please just give me another chance. I can be better. I’ll do better for you,” You whimper your body trembling in fear. The anticipation of what he was going to do to you was almost worse than the abuse. When he got like this he was entirely unpredictable which was an entirely different monster. 

“No you dumb bitch.” He says taking his belt off and getting on the ground “You never fucking learn and you never will huh? Well since I can’t teach you I will just have to make sure you never fuck up again,” He says as you start immediately shaking your head and fighting back. He manuevers around your flailing legs and arms landing a few blows to your side and one to your head leaving you defenseless before wrapping his hands around your throat. You shake your head and scratch at his hands trying to get him to stop. You begged and pleaded to any god that existed to help. You weren’t ready to go, you knew you weren’t. Just as your vision started to go black you felt the pressure go away and watching through one good eye as Jack was thrown against a wall. Was that Spiderman? That cannot be right, but it was becoming hard to stay awake. The last thing you remember is a voice talking to you and them promising to call 911.  

7 days later…

You wake up to the sound of rustling beside you. It is a struggle to move your neck to the side to see who is beside you. God, it feels like you got hit by a train repeatedly. There is a nice looking older woman writing on some papers. She has on purple scrubs with lollipops on them. You try to take in your surrounings. The nurse, flourscent lighting, sterile smell the air, you had to be in the hospital. Or this was your sick version of the after life. “Good morning hun. It is nice to see you are awake. I’ll make sure to let the doctor know and as soon as she gets the chance she will come explain everything to you okay?” She says in a gentle voice and you do your best to nod in understanding. “Now that you are awake I’ll come back later with a lunch and dinner form for you, but if you need anything sooner hit that button by your left hand and I’ll be here,” She says as you move your hand around and feel the button nodding your head again. She smiles at you sadly before leaving the room. You listen to the monitor beat systemically as you look at the ceiling. Your head is pounding and it hurts to breathe but you are pretty sure you are alive. Your eye isn’t swollen anymore because you can see out of both of them. 

The rest of the day consists with a variety of people entering and exiting your room. The doctor comes in and explains they put you in a medically induced coma hoping to stop anymore trauma to your brain, get fluids in you because you were extremely malnourished, and hopefully give your body stress free time to heal. Three broken ribs, a broken orbital bone, multiple severe contusions, glass removal and stitches, and a moderate concussion. You would be in here for at least a couple more days so they could monitor you and make sure you were healing properly and there were no complications. After the doctor it was the cops. They were doing a full reprt on Jack. You were scared at first, he promised to kill you if you ever told anyone. What if he kept up his end of the promise. You told the police that and they promised they would protect you and your testimony would put him away for a long time. Turns out you weren’t the first woman he has done this too. Optimistic, you told the officers everything. Relieved all the painful details if it meant you could put that monster away and put an end to this horrible nightmare. Then it was the psychiatrist. She had to make sure you didn’t need to be put on suicide watch and assess your mental state after everything you went through. You couldn’t get a read on what she was writing but you didn’t get moved to a padded room or handcuffed to the bed so you assumed you were in the clear for now. Your guiding light in all of this was your sweet nurse. Her name is Rose, and she has been beyond kind to you since you opened your eyes. 

The next morning, Rose is once again the first person you see. She is bringing your food to you and helping you get comfortable. “Rose I don’t think this is your job,” You say smiling appreciatively at her. 

“Well I won’t tell if you don’t” She says making you smile. You felt much better today. Your pain meds got adjusted now that you were awake making everything more bearable. Knowing you gave the cops your statement and there’s a chance Jack will never see the light of day again was something to look forward to. You had to believe the justice system would do the right thing, but hope was powerful and you chose to believe in it for the time being. 

While eating your applesauce you notice someone approaching and sighed wondering who could possibly need to speak to you now. You look over and see Peter walk through the door, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. He waves awkwardly and for the first time in weeks you smile. “I would wave back but it hurts to do anything more than lift my spoon to my mouth” You say and he smiles. He walks over and places the flowers on your bedside table. 

“How do you feel?” He asks and you lean back looking at him

“Oh you know. Feels like I got hit by a truck, everything hurts, but I guess I’m luck to be alive right? The doctors and nurses here are really good so today is better than yesterday. I’m pretty sure I owe my life to Spiderman? I’m not sure if I was halucinating or not but I owe someone my life.” You say trying your best to retrieve the memory but those moments before you passed our are all a blur.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Peter asks as you shake your head and he pulls a chair over. 

“Do you mind if I ask how did you know I was here? Or what happned to me?” You ask as Peter scratches at the back of his neck thinking of an explanation.

“I um volunteer at the hospital. I heard some nurses talk about you and what happened. I saw the cops come in and figured out where your room was. I didn’t wanna come empty handed so I came back today. I’m glad you’re okay though, I missed my table buddy,” He says looking at you as you laugh softly then start to cough. Peter looks concerned but you nod your head. 

“It’s okay I’m all good. The broken ribs make it hard to breathe and it hurts to laugh” you respond looking at him as he nods in seeming understanding. You brush that off adding, “I appreciate you coming here Peter. It means a lot to me.” you say as he nods and you feel the awkward tension begin to build between you. This time it is your turn to break the void, “I don’t- I don’t have any family. I don’t have anyone. I haven’t in a long time.” You say your voice cracking as he looks back at you. Not sadly, but in understanding. 

“Y/n you don’t have to-” He starts but you shake your head. 

“No no it’s fine. I know I don’t know you that well but between you and my nurse, you are one of the kindest people I’ve met. You barely know me and still came to check on me,” you say. Maybe it was the drugs in your system but they had you becoming extremely loose lipped. 

“My dad died when I was 10, my mom turned into an alcoholic after. Even before then she wasn’t much of a mother. She abused me, sometimes physically, but mostly verbal. The drinking caused her to lose her job. We mostly slept in her car, or a home if they let us in. We begged for money or meals and even then she would usually use me to get more and then keep it for herself. When I was sixteen I ran away. Slept on benches, couches, wherever I could. Made it the best I could on my own. When I got a scholarship to come here I knew I had to take it. I thought coming here would be my fresh start. I’d be free of that alone feeling that’s clung to me like a cancer and I could get a frest start. Leave my past behind me. Looks like I just traded one nightmare for another.” You say tears running down your face as you try to wipe them away “But Peter, I want you to know that the little bit of kindness you have showed me has been paramount. It has made a difference, truly.” You say looking at Peter again tears running freely down your face as you do nothing to stop it. Peter feels a few of his own tears spilling over. He doens’t know what hurts you so opts to put his hand softly over yours and squeezing it gently. 

“I am so sorry you had to go through that. You are strong in ways I never will be or could comprehend. And I promise you I understand that lonely feeling. Why do you think I go to the library? I enjoy being at least around people. I lost all the people that were important to me. In one way or another they are all gone,” Peter says a faraway look in his eye. You squeeze his hand bringing him back to the presence as he looks at you again, “The silence is the worst part right? The silence… it overwhelms you. Creates a space that allows every bad thought to run free and you just can’t stop it.” He says and you nod your head in understanding. Peter had that sad and lost look in his eye. The same one you often saw when you looked in the mirror. 

“Well if it makes you feel better you have me. Maybe we could… create our own thing? Something that feels like home for the both of us. Then, we don’t have to be alone anymore” You reply smiling weakly at Peter. He smiles at you wiping the tears that fell from his eye

“I think I’d like that”

[themculibrary]

Field Trip To Stark Industries Masterlist 3

part one, part two

Anything For You (ao3) - pancake_thursday G, 8k

Summary: Peter Parker is going on a trip to Stark Industries. Flash Thompson is a bully. Tony Stark just wants his favorite spider-kid to be happy. --- If Peter was uncertain before, he was certain now. He had to go on this trip. Just yesterday Flash had punched his lights out behind the storage shed. He received looks in the hallway, eye-rolls, and heard whispered conversations he shouldn’t have been able to hear from teachers. The Stark internship wasn’t the problem, it was that no one believed little orphan Peter Parker. Besides Ned and MJ of course. And while everything would never stop, what if he went on the trip and proved it?

dog days are over (ao3) - syzdiezel T, 50k

Summary: Peter looked at Ned for support, who slowly nodded. “Okay yeah… if I was in your shoes, this would be very humiliating,”

“Thank you, Ned,” Peter smiled and turned towards MJ to stick out his tongue at her, who muttered a ‘real mature’ back at him.

“But… well… I’m not in your shoes. So, to me, it is kind of funny,” Ned shrugged, and MJ started cackling.

“Ned!” Peter groaned. Did nobody understand his plight?

-

Peter and his AcaDec team go to Stark Industries on a field trip. But that’s in two weeks. Until then, Peter has a lot of surprises waiting for him, that could change his life for the better… or worse. You really never know which one might happen when the Avengers are involved.

holy moly (it's a real do-nothing day) (ao3) - RJam9 T, 36k

Summary: (i could change address and try another state, i could change my name, it won't do anything)

-

The school year has managed to continue on without incident, even with the Rogue Avengers having officially been pardoned. However, what is more important is that the Midtown High Academic Decathlon Team won their national competition. Technically, they don’t get any awards other than boring money stuff from it, which — when Tony Stark hears about it — he intends to rectify.

Which means they get a special, end-of-the-year field trip to Stark Industries on the behalf of Tony’s two interns; Peter Parker and Harley Keener.

Peter is not enjoying this. Harley might be enjoying this a bit too much.

-

(or, since i’ve technically already done a twitter fic, i’m tackling the next biggest trope in irondad content — welcome to the mandatory field trip fic, everybody!)

If I Can Be Like That (I Can Do Anything) (ao3) - JAWorley T, 12k

Summary: Peter and his class get to Stark Industries for their field trip, but when they get to the front desk there’s no tour guide waiting. Instead Happy pulls Peter aside and tells him the tour guides are all out sick with the flu, and that Pepper wants Peter to lead the tour. Peter’s not freaking out… totally not. He can do this (maybe) if he can just channel Mr. Stark for the day.

OR

Peter is doing his best, Flash is being a jerk, Mr. Harrington is awesome, and Peter and Tony get some important things figured out.

Interim Intern (ao3) - Singing_Siren G, 7k

Summary: The moment Peter hears Mr. Harrington say the words “field trip” and “Stark Industries” in the same sentence, he knows he’s doomed. Not even Flash’s repetitive and entirely too uncreative taunts can snap him out of the daze he falls into at the sight of the field trip permission slip with STARK INDUSTRIES printed in big, bold letters. Oh, boy.

Another Field Trip to Stark Industries fic featuring SI Legal being BAMF, Peter and Harley as genius siblings, a new fledgling AI, and daily life at a tech giant like SI

it starts with a series of unfortunate events (ao3) - raccoons_bubbles_killerG, 2k

Summary: parker luck strikes again, and peter doesn't realize until it's too late

or; due to a series of unfortunate events, peter is left in the dark about the upcoming field trip to, *drum rolls* stark industries! and of course it wouldn't be funny if his acadec team didn't surprise him in the middle of a rush on the job

Just Greeaaat (Or: A Flashlight?) (ao3) - Writing_Desk_Raven T, 5k

Summary: One of Midtown High School's classes gets a special treat - a tour of Stark Industries. Which is just greeaaat for one Peter Parker, who's trying to keep the extent of his involvement there under wraps. In a place where everyone knows you, your classmates don't believe you've even met anyone, and where you actually do end up having a job to get done, what are you supposed to do?

(Alternatively: The one where a flashlight is a lot more than just bright.) (ONESHOT)

Just My Luck (ao3) - butwhyytho mj/peter T, 18k

Summary: Peter Parker is balancing school, his "internship" as Spiderman, his actual internship with Tony Stark, and the pressures of being a teen genius. Of course, his school field trip will take place at Stark Industries. How will he keep his identity a secret? More importantly, how will he keep the Avengers from embarrassing him in front of his entire class?

Features Ned, MJ, and Peter friendship, IronDad, and fun with both the Avengers and Stark employees.

Neon Liar (Hiding In Plain Sight) (ao3) - isaDanCurtisproduction T, 70k

Summary: Peter is stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or more literally, he's stuck between the will of ten other teenagers and the knowledge that if anyone finds out he's living with the Avengers he can kiss his normal high school life goodbye. Can he keep it a secret from his classmates that he's living with the world's loudest superheroes? And can he keep it a secret from the Avengers that he's accidentally bringing his classmates home for a field trip?

And once he starts hiding things, keeping secrets, and lying, will he be able to stop?

And even more importantly: will Ned be able to keep his mouth shut long enough for Peter's secrets to stay a secret?

At least MJ can be trusted to keep a lid on things

nobody knows (ao3) - oriocookie G, 6k

Summary: Peter was dreading going to school. He’d been up for half an hour now, pacing around, fiddling with his hair so bad it looked like several small rodents had taken up residence there.

Because today. Today was the day he’d been fearing for a month. The day of the Field Trip.

Peter had taken every precaution to ensure that everything would go right, and that his secret identities, as both Spider-Man and the secret adoptive son of Tony Stark, wouldn’t be revealed.

Permission Required (ao3) - harrysthirdghost G, 4k

Summary: Peter Parker is just your average high school genius who works as an intern for Stark Industries, and is very close with Tony Stark himself. Somehow, his high school’s science class managed to book a tour of the building he practically lives in.

Peter Parker's Perfect Field Trip (ao3) - The_Mishamigo N/R, 3k

Summary: After saving his classmates at the Washington monument, Stark Industries’ offers them a tour as a way to lift their spirits… and it’s obviously not because Tony Stark wants to embarrass Peter Parker.

Snazzy Suits, Decathlon Trips, and the Almighty Intern Lab (ao3) - ironfidus G, 24k

Summary: Once the students have wheeled their eyes back around to face her, awestruck and visibly eager for a rundown, Roxanne beams and explains, “What we have here is hands-down one of the most exciting intern labs in the entire building. More importantly, it’s our only intern lab that combines students from multiple scientific disciplines. But I’ll let the lab director tell you all about it—Dr. Grayson, if you would?”

“Hello, Midtown,” LD Grayson says cheerfully, “and welcome to Lab 17A!”

“Or as we like to call it,” one of his interns pipes up, grinning impishly behind thick glasses, “the Cool Kidz’ Lab. With a Z.”

—

Or: Peter goes on a field trip to his workplace, bonds with fellow interns and secret coworkers, and watches it all (not) blow up in his face.

ft. A visit from Tony Dramatic Stark, the Academic Decathlon team living up to their reputation as complete nerds, and Ned finally getting the internship he deserves—not necessarily in that order.

Still Better Than Last Year's Field Trip (ao3) - mytimeconsumingsidehobby G, 2k

Summary: For once a field trip goes fine. Mostly.

The Field Trip (ao3) - Angeeelatin G, 5k

Summary: The field trip fic.

Or: how peter's team decided enough was enough and invited midtown over to SI to deal with their baby boss' bullying issue . Surprisingly, they didn't have to do a thing.

At SI, Peter Parker bows to no one, especially not to an entitled brat like Flash Thompson or this asshole from the military who came to stir up trouble.

There is Happiness (ao3) - See_the_starlight T, 6k

Summary: After moving into Stark Industries, the last thing Peter wanted was to take a field trip to his own house. Peter really hoped that today would go off without a hitch. Of course, the universe had to have other things to say about that.

Just a classic field trip fic, with a little bit of angst sprinkled in there.

The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Field Trip (ao3) - its_kale_chip G, 19k

Summary: Peter is just trying to live a normal life: going to school, being spiderman, and spending every free moment he has at the avengers tower. When it is announced that his chemistry class will be taking a field trip to SI, Peter panics as he watches his worlds collide.

Welcome To The Avengers Compound (ao3) - funkylittlebidiot mj/peter, tony/stephen G, 10k

Summary: Peter didn’t respond, simply pointing a blank and exhausted stare at the wall opposite his bed, trying to switch his brain on and shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to his skin. The windows were still dark despite FRIDAY having pulled up the blinds already, and it took a moment of confusion to realize his usual wake-up music was, in fact, playing.

Tony turned to leave, probably in search of his second cup of coffee as he waited on the boys to get ready, but called back at him from the hallway. “Don’t forget you have your field trip today!”

When Plans Fail (ao3) - OrangeOranges G, 3k

Summary: Another SI field trip from yours truly, featuring Peter Parker and his potty mouth.

Peter makes all the plans to avoid the Avengers and anyone else from embarrassing him in front of his classmates. However, this plan backfires when he meets an unlikely roadblock: his non-existent mouth filter.

When spiders tour their houses, chaos ensues (ao3) - pirateninja9 harley/peter, mj/shuri T, 7k

Summary: "I am very pleased to announce that we’ve been invited for an overnight tour at Stark Industries.”

Join Peter and his Academic decathlon team on a chaotic field trip to the Stark Industries. Featuring a bullying teacher and student, a confused tour guide and many Avengers shenanigans. With luck like his, Peter should have known this would be as far from a normal tour as possible.

[chaostudee]

third time's a charm - p.p

pairing : peter parker x female reader summary : it takes three attempts before peter can successfully pop the question. warnings : none? words : 2.2k a/n : this may or may not be based on that one friends episode. also this has not been proofread so im sorry for any mistakes &lt;3

peter had been debating on proposing for awhile now though there was little thought put into the whole ordeal for there had needn't be. peter knew exactly what he wanted, he wanted to spend the rest of life with the person he loved the most. he could only hope that you would wish the same.

"you know i'm not particularly comfortable in participating in the picking out of my daughter's engagement ring" tony confessed as he stood with peter in the jewelers.

in truth peter had not decided to bring tony along for the reason he believed, for the support of a father figure. the main reasoning was for financial reasons as it is a known fact that tony stark is not experiencing money problems though peter parker is.

"well i'm sorry but all the others were busy" peter admits with a shrug as he digs his hands deeper in the pockets of his jacket. tony tries to keep a straight face as he looks downward at him as he is in the know that the others were not in fact overwhelmed by their hectic schedules.

a year ago, peter would have never expected to be where he stood now. last year he had given up on the whole idea of spending the rest of your life with someone when mj had rejected his own proposition to married life. at first he was hurt in her rejection but now looking back he understands.

" so kid" tony rubs his hands together and looks around the store waringly as though a mob of fans might barge through but he had reserved the jewlers for a set time. "you see anything you fancy or y/n might fancy should i say".

peter seems to be starstruck with the selection in front of him, disallowing him the ability to respond. the numerous diamonds regulated an energy that glistened and glimmered in the early morning sun.

" i mean they are all great tony.....". peter looks over at tony only to find him glaring back at him due to use of his first name. "m-mr. stark" he corrected himself, bringing his eyes back to the display.

he scanned the many rows that held the content that he desired and his eyes widened at the costing prices. lets just say that he was glad of his accompaniment with a millionaire.

"that one". peter points to a certain ring that caught his eye. it was different from the rest but in a way that stood apart from the others, holding its own radiance. peter had witnessed this before. this feeling. it was when he met you.

tony nods and gestures to the man at the counter. as he pulls out his card to process the transaction tony can't help but smother a smile as peter stares longingly at the ring. maybe he wasn't so pleased that his daughter was leaving him but glad that she would have peter.

...

"so you're really doing this?" ned confirms as he flips open the velvet box to examine the ring once again.

peter stood in front of the mirror and for the eleventh time he adjusted his tie. any way that he looked at it, it appeared crooked and crumpled. it had to look perfect. tonight would have to be perfect.

"yes ned i am" peter says turning around to find him sitting on the bed and in the dim light of his room, watch how the diamond sparkled in the light. "is my tie okay?".

ned snaps the box shut and sighs to himself before pulling himself up from the bed. it was obvious that peter was nervous. "dude it looks great, you'll be great". with one last tug ned fixes the tie and this time it meets peter's standards.

"thanks man". peter takes one last look in the mirror, smoothing down his hair and then checking the time briefly on his watch. overtime it had become damaged yet he refused to take it off with it being the only memory he held from his father.

"ring" peter instructs ned to hand him the box. ned hands it over and when peter pictures it on your wedding finger he can feel the butterflies in his stomach. he's unsure whether it is nerves or the effect you have on him, most likely both.

...

"do you know what you're celebrating?" natasha asks as she pulls her gaze from the back of your head, the curler held firmly in her hand.

you shrug because you can't even confirm that it is an occasion but it seemed far too fancy and nostalgic to be heading to the restaurant where you had your first date wearing a tight black dress, simply because he wanted to take you out for dinner.

things between you and peter had been great recently, so great in fact that you had lingered outside a jewellers one friday morning.

you smiled to yourself as you spotted a ring in the mirror. you imagined peter getting down on one knee and him popping the question. but a girl can dream.

"all done" natasha said as she released your hair from the curler, running her fingers through your curls.

"thanks babes" you reply looking back at your reflection in the mirror.

laying her head on your shoulder nat smiles at you. "you look beautiful y/n".

you chuckle. "thanks, hopefully peter thinks the same".

nat pulls away from you giving you a shocked expression. "girl be so for real, peter is so in love with you that you could wear a paper bag and he'd still think you were attractive".

...

peter nervously fiddled with the cuff of his suit jacket as you and him stood in the entrance on the restaurant, waiting to be seated.

"you okay?" you ask noticing your boyfriends state.

peter exhales and smiles over at you. he squeezes your hand and then kisses your forehead softly.

"of course, i'm here with you".

you could'nt help but smile. he could always make you smile.

"i love this dress by the way" he states, running his fingers along the sheer fabric.

"oh you do?" you tease knowing that by the way his eyes sparkled he was thinking about your first date.

"you look more beautiful then our first date, if that's even possible".

god this man. he was forever giving you compliments that made your heart skip a beat. one of these days you were going to have a heart attack.

you are pulled from your moment when you hear clapping and cheering nearby. you turn to see the couple nearby. the women held the engagement ring in the palm of her hand still covered in cake crumbs. still in shock she watched as her partner got down on one knee. he asked the obvious question and everyone wanted on in anticipation.

milliseconds after she nods then says yess. everyone claps before going back to their food.

"that was cute" peter states, taking a bite of his cheesecake.

you shrug. "sure, but i'd hate to be proposed to that way it's kinda....cheesy".

peters face drops at your comment. just as your fork is about to sink into the cake he pulls it from your grasp.

"hey what the hell?!".

"you can't have this"

"why not?"

"y/n...."

you ignore him and take a bite but stop when you see something glistening inside.

you look up at peter bit he hangs his head knowing that you had spotted it.

"peter...."

he shakes his head begging you not to talk, instead calling the waiter over for the bill.

...

"i'm telling you nat i've never felt so guilty in my life, like i literally told him outright that i thought it was cheesy".

nat tuts and paces your room deep in thought.

throwing your hands up in the air you sigh. "god nat he hasn't even properly spoken to me all week, everytime i bring it up he just changes the subject i-".

"why don't you propose to him?".

nat catches you off guard.

noticing your silence she elaborates. "i mean he won't expect it and i dont know i think it would be cute".

you ponder for a moment and smile to yourself when you remember the ring you had tucked away in your bottom dresser.

nat watches as you pull out the box and gasps when she realises what it is.

"holy shit y/n when did you get this?!"

you blush. "about a year ago....".

nat face softens. "and you wouldn't even admit you were in love with him" she scoffs with an eyeroll.

you jab her with your elbow and she laughs.

"ask him"she says sternly.

you smile and nod. "i will".

...

your heart thumped fast in your chest. it was an early saturday morning and you were waiting for peter. you had told him to meet you at your favourite spot. a willow tree hanging over a small lake. along with that it was also a park where you and peter had met. you had hoped he would appreciate the sentiment.

peter and you had been distant ever since the restaurant incident but you still had hope. there were a few runners out at this hour and you smiled as woman ran past you.

her dog came running behind her but instead of following her it decides to take a detour and head in your direction.

you had no fear of dogs but this was a pitbull and a big one and it didn't look friendly.

you stood up as it neared and when it started barking you got worried. the woman had gone and simply hadn't noticed her dog had gone missing.

just as the dog was about to punce you jump up onto the bench out of reach.

you close your eyes and try to drown out the noise. you try to change your footing but end up slipping onto the grass nearby. you hear something drop but that isn't your concern when you feel the dog approaching.

luckily the owner came just in time.

"come here max come here!".

"omg are you okay?!" she asks helping you up.

you swallow and nod trying not to show your fear.

"i'm fine don't worry".

she clips the leash onto the dog before apologizing again.

you sigh when the two walk in the other direction.

lookinh out onto the lake you check the time, peter would be here any minute now.

you feel in your pocket for the ring box and your heart stopped when you realised it wasn't there. shit you thought internally. it must have fallen out when you fell. you look around the surrounding area for any sign of it but no luck.

its only when you spot the box bouncing on the waters surface that you had fucked up. and just at that moment peter showed up.

tears began to well in your eyes. you had wanted it to be perfect.

"hey" peter greets you with a smile but it drops when he sees you begin to cry.

he rubs his hands up and down your arms.

"what's wrong darling??" he asks lookinv you straight in the eye as he speaks making it harder for you to get your words out.

you point to the box that had now floated out into the middle of the lake and had now begun to sink.

"is that-"

"i was going to propose to you".

"oh baby.....i'm sorry" he whispers kissing your head.

"i wanted it to be perfect for you" you mumble.

he lifts your chin up with his finger.

"i can't believe you were going to propose".

"well i love you peter".

"i love you too baby".

you chuckle. "two proposals gone wrong, just our rotten luck".

he smiles. "we'll get it right one day".

...

about a month leter peter was sat up in bed admiring his girlfriend as she slept. god she's so beautiful he thought. he traced his hand up her bare arm. god he loved her. he loves every inch of her. he loved how she scrunched her nose when she laughs. he loved how she would always get so worried when he got back from his missons. he loved how she would play with his hands when she was bored. but what he loved the most was that he could call her his.

he loved calling her his girlfriend but truthfully he had become jealous of tony because he could call pepper his wife.

"baby, wake up" he whispered in your ear.

you groan. you had never been a morning person.

"whaaat" you mumble your eyes full of sleep.

"this finger is looking kind of bare".

you open one eye fully to see peter holding your ring finger. he looks up at you mischeviously.

"marry me".

you sit up placing your hands on his cheeks. you put your forehead against his.

you kiss him softly and when you pull away you watch as peter waits anxiously for your answer.

"so...?'

"yess you idiot!!!" you exclaim embracing him and pushing him back down on the bed.

he brushes a piece of hair out of your face and grins when he recalls your new title.

he nuzzles his nose against yours.

"what did i say? third times a charm".

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice.

She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. “Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me.”

- Brienne VII, AFFC

“I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning … burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?” The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King’s Landing. “If Joffrey should die … what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?”

“Everything,” said Davos, softly.

- Davos V, ASOS

Ned had heard enough. “You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least.”

[…]

“I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it.”

For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. His eyes narrowed and a flush crept up his neck past the velvet collar. He pointed an angry finger at Ned. “You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.”

“I wish him every success.” Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He laid it on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.”

Robert’s face was purple. “Out,” he croaked, choking on his rage. “Out, damn you, I’m done with you. What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!”

Ned bowed, and turned on his heel without another word.

- Eddard VIII, AGOT

“I know what I swore.” Jon said the words. “I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?”

“They were. As the lord commander knows.”

“Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?” Jon waited for an answer. None came. “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?”

- Jon XI, ADWD

Them 🫶🏽

[claymoresword]

Come Out And Haunt Me

Cersei Lannister x Catelyn Tully Stark

Summary: When her raven goes unanswered, queen Cersei Lannister decides to pay the Starks a visit herself.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Disclaimers: omegaverse, alpha!cersei, omega!catelyn, cheating, angst & fluff, robert baratheon does not exist

Note: hi! so i initially only planned to post this on Ao3 but I've decided to share it here as well

honestly not sure what this is i just had a random burst of energy one night and decided to write it lol

to all 2 of you who clicked on this, welcome! hope you enjoy <3

The parchment clutched tightly in her hands, Catelyn skims the letter once more. As though dwelling would make a difference to the words already etched into the page.

An egregious insult.

Nine years; Catelyn had been forced to wallow in the harsh and cold North. Nine years and she had just managed to find a sort of peace amidst her sorrow.

Ned no longer insists on sharing her bed and her children, aside for Rickon, have all outgrown her attention.

She is finally comfortable.

Perhaps even happy.

Now the queen intends to summon her to King's Landing– like a dog.

The alpha is as bold as she is cruel.

I am not meant to be Hand any more than Cersei is fit to be queen.

Catelyn traces the crimson seal with the pad of her thumb, a war raging within her.

It is a cruel jape, even after everything, she still yearns to be in the alpha's presence once more.

To thread her fingers through golden curls, look upon delicate features in which time has certainly only made more beautiful.

Catelyn scoffs at her own feebleness, she harshly wipes the tears that have already began drying upon her cheeks.

This is all folly.

The omega allows her eyes flutter shut for a moment; she banishes Cersei from her mind.

Wringing the letter in her hands as she rises from her seat, Catelyn storms towards the hearth, eventually feeding the crumpled parchment to the fire.

Cersei Lannister; ever delicate and enchanting. The worst person Catelyn has ever met, once the love of her life.

This is what it has come to; for all of her sins, the Gods see fit to mock her.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

A month has come and gone since the queen sent a raven, and Catelyn is content with the knowledge that Cersei has taken her silence for an answer.

She will not go to King's Landing. She cannot set eyes on the queen once more– for the omega is certain she will not survive it.

"Brandon Stark! How many times must I tell you? No climbing." Catelyn exclaims, she watches her son descend clumsily from the roof.

Bran appears unfazed by his mother's warnings, as always. A genial expression covers his features; the careless joy of a young boy.

"I just saw hundreds of people riding down our road." The boy exclaims amidst a grunt, hoisting himself off the parapet before finally landing on his feet in front of his mother. "I saw a large wheelhouse, with horses.. and men in armor."

"It must be your uncle Benjen and his men who have come to visit your father again." Catelyn decides, but her son pays her no mind as he continues.

"They were carrying crimson banners, with a lion–” Catelyn's expression falls at his son's words. Suddenly she senses a gnawing in her belly, as though she might wretch.

"What did you say– about the banner?" The omega asks as she grabs her son by the shoulder, urging him to look up at her.

"It was crimson, with a yellow lion." Bran repeats as he stares at his mother.

"–Lannisters." Maester Luwin emerges, overhearing their exchange. "Is it possible the queen has come to Winterfell?"

The man asks as he searches Catelyn's expression; she has gone quiet, all colour drained from her face.

"My Lady.." Maester Luwin then attempts to coax a response, with a light hand on Catelyn's forearm.

It restores Cat to her senses just enough to muster a single sentence. "Please, inform my Lord husband. Tell him, the queen is on her way."

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Catelyn smooths out her gown for the dozenth time, not having been given much option or time, she was forced to don a dark blue gown, one that her Lord husband often insists match her eyes.

Although the dye on the fabric has now faded, and the sleeves wrinkled– but it matters not. Most of her dress remains covered by her sheepskin cloak.

Nearly all of her dresses always are. The weather in the North does not warrant beauty, only practicality.

Catelyn breath catches in her throat as she observes the queen's approach. Cersei leads the assembly on a gold and white palfrey, she halts infront of the gates before dismounting her horse with grace.

It is no secret that the years have since done its work on them both. The queen is no longer the young woman she had served at court, the same way Catelyn is no longer a girl of ten and five.

Cersei wears a few wrinkles around her eyes, yet, her beauty remains as ethereal as Catelyn remembers it to be. More than anything, the sight of the alpha makes her ache; she has no choice but to focus her gaze elsewhere.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.” Ned declares after placing a chaste kiss on the back of the queen's hand.

He remains kneeling on the ground as Cersei studies him. She regards him with a piercing emerald stare before instructing him to rise.

“I hope you can forgive my sudden attendance, I have rather urgent business with your wife.” The queen avows, not appearing to be sorry at all.

Whilst Ned is visibly taken aback by Cersei's declaration, any doubt or query he may have on the matter– he keeps to himself.

The Lord of Winterfell steps aside as the queen swiftly turns her attention towards his wife.

“My queen.” Catelyn greets the golden haired woman with a curtsey. The omega only manages to hold Cersei's gaze for a heartbeat before once again, willing herself to look elsewhere.

The alpha moves to reach for Catelyn's hand, but as though just only recalling the importance of propriety, she stops herself.

Cersei is not given a chance to do much else before her wife falls in next to her.

Taena smiles brightly as she envelopes Catelyn within her embrace, without much warning. “Cat, it's been far too long!” The Myrish woman exclaims.

Catelyn feigns a smile of her own, out of courtesy, she embraces the queen consort in return.

“You are just glowing.” Taena states as she breaks away to look at her. Catelyn soon feels a hand upon her cheek.

The omega wears a bashful expression; one that is just as contrived as the other woman's attempt at a compliment.

She gently pries Taena's hand away from her face. “You are far too gracious.. you look well yourself, Your Grace.”

Taena sighs, as though she wishes for Catelyn's words to be true. “Oh, please, I look a fright.”

“We have been travelling for weeks.” She adds, and the glare Taena throws at her wife calls attention to the barely concealed asperity within her tone.

Yet, Cersei only smiles in return, no doubt her way of retaliating to Taena's grievance is to simply ignore it entirely.

She addresses Ned instead. “My Lady wife and I hope to lay in a proper bed tonight.”

“Of course, Your Grace. We have rooms enough to accommodate you both.. and your children, if it please you.” Ned states curtly as he ushers the queen through the gates.

“Good, I look forward to seeing your castle.”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

After a busy morning, Catelyn had decided to lock herself away in her solar for the remainder of the day. In truth, aside for a desperate solution to escaping the queen and her lady wife– solitude was also the only way Catelyn could avoid Ned's incessant questioning.

Of course his confusion is warranted, and her husband means well, to be sure, Ned always does– but Catelyn cannot stand to lie to him anymore.

-

As the lady of Winterfell sits by her window, she manages to get a view of Bran and Arya, currently playing in the yard; their direwolf pups by their feet.

The queen’s children have since joined them. Tommen and Myrcella are no doubt every bit like their mothers, both with emerald green eyes of the Lannisters and olive skinned like their Myrish mother.

The sight of their children playing together strikes Catelyn as something that was painfully ironic. In fact, it was nearly amusing, in a rather bleak way.

Lost in her thoughts, the omega fails to hear the latch on the door behind her.

The oak doors open, and soon shuts. It is only when Catelyn notices shuffling behind her that she turns around to inspect the cause.

“Are you hiding from me?” Cersei asks. with her question, she tilts her head slightly. The same way she used to when they were mere children together.

The sight unsettles Catelyn in a way she does not care to acknowledge. She scrambles to her feet, hugging her robe around her slender frame.

"Your Grace. I- no, I'm just not well." She tells a half-truth and she prays for a miracle.

Catelyn hopes, stupidly, that the other woman will decide to leave her alone, without much interrogation.

"Are you ill?" Cersei asks, as expected, approaching her.

The alpha's tone of genuine concern only makes Catelyn want to weep, but she shakes her head, forcibly suppressing the urge. "It must be something I ate." She lies.

"Oh, then you must rest.” Cersei suggests in response, a smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth.

The omega's brows furrow at the sight. She mocks me. Catelyn observes.

The lady of Winterfell decides she no longer possesses the will for feigned courtesies. All she has the strength to do now is stare at the other woman, unamused.

This works to unnerve the queen slightly, as though thrown off balance, Cersei clears her throat.

The alpha averts her gaze before resting her hand on the hilt of her longsword, assuming a confident stance once more.

“Have you given any thought to my proposal?” Cersei finally states it plainly, and Catelyn scoffs in response.

The alpha possesses just enough audacity to appear confused by the other woman's reaction. “What?”

“Stop that. Don't pretend as though you have given me a choice.” Catelyn hisses, and she watches as Cersei opens her mouth to retaliate, but she swiftly cuts off the attempt.

“If that was true, you would not be here.” Cat challenges and Cersei merely shrugs, unconcerned yet dignified.

The queen always does so in a way that managed to make others seem small, inconsequential.

It was infuriating.

“Come to King's Landing, serve as my Hand.” “and you should take Sansa, our daughter will do well in the capital.” Cersei renders aloud as she advances forward.

Now standing close enough that Catelyn can smell the lavender oil in her hair.

“Such beauty shouldn't stay hidden up here.” Cersei continues, reaching up to caress the omega's cheek.

Catelyn stiffens and then sighs involuntarily against her touch. Once again she feels the urge to weep, to scream. The omega wants to lean in and kiss the other woman, to feel her warm embrace.

Instead, she slaps her hand away, bristling. “Don't. do not do that.”

“and don't call her your daughter.. as if you have ever been a sire to her.” She mutters, a scowl covers Catelyn's features as she tries to slip past the alpha.

Although Cersei quickly catches her by the arm before she can go far at all, forcing a proximity between them once more.

"You know that I regret– I regret how it all ended between us.” The queen utters, her voice low, only for Catelyn to hear.

The sincerity in which Cersei speaks her sweet words does nothing to douse the rage within her.

Years of longing and wanting for a woman that has no regard for her honor, no respect for her feelings. Cersei has been nothing if not careless with her; with her heart.

Catelyn does not believe a word the alpha says– she cannot allow herself to.

“Do you?” She challenges, her jaw clenched in anger.

“Nine years without a word from you.. not so much as a raven.” She adds with a raised voice, though Cersei appears entirely unfazed by it, this time her arm slips around Catelyn's waist.

“Don't touch me.” She tries, attempting to wriggle out of the alpha's hold, but it is no use.

"I missed you.. I wanted to write to you, I truly did.” Cersei reveals, cupping the other woman's cheek once more.

“I just thought–”

“What?” Catelyn provokes, unsatisfied.

“You thought what?” Despite herself, she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“You told me you loved me... I gave myself to you, and then you chose her.”

Cersei own expression shifts at the other woman's declaration. She wipes away the omega's tears with the pads of her thumbs tenderly.

“I had no choice.” The queen insists, her tone gentle and sincere– almost vulnerable.

“I assume you are happier.. with your husband.” Cersei alleges, and Catelyn feels the urge to laugh in her face.

“How could you possibly think that?” She questions, and Cersei acknowledges the mistake she had made, at long last.

“Forgive me.. I never meant to hurt you.” The queen articulates, threading her fingers through auburn locks.

Catelyn allows herself to lean into the other woman's touch, her brows still furrowed as she speaks. “Well, you did. You broke my heart.”

The omega attempts to shove Cersei away once more, but still, she refuses to budge.

The alpha is stronger, and far more determined.

“I know, I am sorry.” The queen says again, this time she boldly kisses the shell of Catelyn's ear.

As the omega continues to try and fight out of her hold, Cersei kisses her again, this time further down, her tender lips meeting her jaw.

Catelyn shivers at the sensation, just as instinctively, she rests her hand on the nape of Cersei's neck.

“I'm sorry.” The alpha mutters once more as she kisses the corner of Catelyn's mouth.

This time, she does not fight the urge. Catelyn turns her head, capturing the other woman's lips with her own for a real kiss.

As their mouths moved against each other with aching familiarity, Cersei's hand shifts to the small of the omega's back, causing the other woman to lean further into her.

They kiss for what feels like an eternity; only breaking apart when both their lungs clamour for air.

Catelyn's face burns from the intensity of the moment, she soon wraps both her arms around the other woman properly, concealing her face in the crook of Cersei's neck.

“I despise you.” The omega mutters, almost petulantly.

Cersei merely lets out a light chuckle at that. A kind of acceptance and forbearance; a quality she truly only finds less of a challenge to display around Catelyn.

“I know.”