oh ned :(

“While you’re dying I’ll be
still alive.
And when you’re dead I will be
still alive.“

It must be tough never knowing if your semblance is going to kill your battle partner.

Yes this prompt got that portal song stuck in my head for hours

Day five of Ozqrow Week: Still Alive

Stole My Heart

Summary:ย The five times the universe appeared to be against you when you wanted to ask Peter out.

Word Count: 2,622.

A/N: After reading @bovariaโ€˜s fic,ย โ€œThe Five Times Bucky Picks Youโ€œ, it inspired me to write something along those lines with Peter instead. Although, I decided to do my own spinoff and give it a slight twist. Hope you enjoy :D

Originally posted by spiderholland

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“He was my brother.”

Those were the first words to tumble out of her mouth when Rhaegar told her Brandon had been killed. He held her hands as if that were any sort of consolation, as if his touch would remind her that there were fairer things to live for. 

“I’m sorry, sweetling,” he cooed as if she were a confused child and not a woman who had just had her whole world pulled out from under her.

“I have to– I have to go to my family. This was a mistake. I must go home.” She rose to her feet quickly, her body moving at a faster pace than her mind, but two hands firmly returned her to her seat.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Lyanna,” Rhaegar informed her coldly, but with a kind smile. “It’s far too dangerous now– and you’re with child.”

“Please.” The word is tremulous and weak on her lips when she wanted to be bold and strong– but how, how could she be, when she was so far south and her pack so far away and reduced to only three?

Rhaegar pressed a kiss to her forehead in response. It burned worse than any other words he could have offered.




“He is my brother.”

She’s enraged. She’s tired, and aching, and in sorrow too, but most of all, she’s enraged.

“This is a war, Lyanna. I have no choice.” Rhaegar does not treat her like a child anymore, no, not after he learned that she had teeth and claws to match those the wolf on her sigil sported. Not after her belly swelled with true object of his desire.

“You have a choice! You have a choice not to raise your sword against him. You have the choice to spare him and let me see him again.” The words alone brought unbidden tears to her eyes. Oh, to see Ned again would be so sweet. Kind, gentle Ned with his honest face and boundless patience. She missed him. She missed him so much.

“I have a kingdom and a family to protect,” Rhaegar returned.

“So does he!”

“It is not the same.”

She would have scoffed had it not been her brother’s life on the line. “Then I pray the gods strike you down.”

Rhaegar smiled, however sad that smile was. Once upon a time she had swooned at that smile. Now, however, she prays he dies with it upon his lips.




“He is my brother.”

She gripped Arthur’s hand with as much strength as she could offer. Her fever was burning, burning, burning everything away. She should have died days earlier, but Lyanna knew she must live.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Arthur said grimly, offering a half-hearted squeeze in return.

“I want to see him again. Please, I want to see Ned.” 

“He comes now.”

“Please, Ser Arthur.”

The knight retreated as the babe at her breast began to cry anew.





Had it not been for his touch, for the coldness of his skin against her hot, she would have thought him a dream, born of fever and her deepest desire.

“Lyanna,” his voice called to her from the haze, sharp and clear and beautiful. “Lyanna, it’s Ned.”

“Thank the gods,” she breathed. He grasped her hand, pressed it to his lips. His face swam in her vision, but it was Ned, it was really Ned. “I feared I’d never see you again.”

“I’m here, Lya.”

“Then listen.” She licked her chapped lips. “Please, listen.”

Her brother nodded, and listened.

Hail Mary, Part XI

Premise: What if Jamie and Claire had 1) been more openly affectionate in those early days, and 2) not *had* to get married?

Part I  Part II  Part III Part IV Part V 

Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

“I wanted to do that with you,” I sighed, nestling my bottom back against his hips, “for a very long time.”

“Oh, aye?” I could hear the grin in his voice as he kissed my shoulder and nipped kisses down my arm. “How did ye ken I’d be any good at it?”

“Who’s saying you were?” 

He heard the obvious teasing in my voice —calling a spade a spade: he’d been pretty bloody fantastic—and he gave it right back to me as he tsked with a mock-wounded, “Och, but she’s a vicious, cruel thing.” He slipped his arm under my head and brought the hand around to hold me close, whispering, grinning, “Cruel, cruel, cruel,” as he nipped his way up my still-flushed neck. 

I hummed a happy laugh. “I didn’t know. But…” I turned my head back toward him, and right on cue, he brought his ear down near my mouth, so that hot breath moved against him as I finished, “…I knew I wanted you inside me.”

I felt him shiver at that, and he moved his hips ever-so-slightly against me, tracing a slow, warm hand up and down my hip and abdomen. A devilish grin still in his voice, he murmured, “Have I married a wanton, then?”

“You’re going to have your hands quite full with me in your bed,” I laughed, giving ‘devilish’ right back to him, “whatever rude name you wish you assign to it.” 

“It’s wonderful, mo nighean donn,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “I never dreamed—I—I didna even ken what it could be like.” I melted as he kissed my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. “How….perfectly happy a person could feel.” 

I had known—

but to feel it with him…

It was a new kind of perfection. 

“When I’m inside ye, Sassenach….” My husband pulled me tighter, seeming to fix his entire being on surrounding me, pulling me into him. “….I feel like….God himself.” 

The laughter fizzed out of me before I could suppress it, which startled Jamie, but another moment, and the both of us were giggling uncontrollably. I had trouble getting the words out. “Is—that why you—took his name in vain so much??” 

“While you’re already laughing at me—” Jamie choked out, the whole of him quaking behind me “—shall I tell ye that I didna ken there—was more than one position for coupling?” 

“No!!!!” I gasped, feeling my cheeks would break from delight. “WHICH ONE??” 

“The—back way—” he groaned, his voice wobbling as absurdly as his belly against my back, teetering on the edge of hysterics, “—like HORSES—” 

Jamie—I moaned, coughing, a full two minutes later, “…hhhhhhhhORSES!!!” 

“So YOU’RE—” Jamie gasped between veritable sobs of laughter, “—a—w—wanton, and I’m—a daft—LOON—” 

More giggles. And hacking and coughing and still more giggles, until we were little more than a quivering puddle of flesh, our muscles absolutely spent from laughter.

I sighed a huge, deep sigh, exhausted from all the love and happiness. He did, too, and we settled back into each other, spooning close, snuggled under his plaid. 

“So, what will we do, now, love? Make for Lallybroch?”

“Aye,” he said, “taking a verra indirect route, so as to stay off MacKenzie lands, but we’ll begin heading that way, to be sure.”

“And…we’ll stay there? Indefinitely?” 

I hoped the raw eagerness didn’t show too obviously in my voice. I’d never had a real home, before—a place on the earth that was mine in some lasting way; and I’d never truly acknowledged to myself just how much something in my soul yearned for such a thing—a place to settle and grow—to fill with love and good food and memories. From what Jamie had said to me of his home, I knew Lallybroch could be that place; but I didn’t want to get my hopes up if we were going to be uprooted again. 

“Well,” he said, shifting at my back and sounding nervous. “I suppose it’s—something we must decide together, aye?” 

I smiled, touched. He was acknowledging my choice. That it might always be together.  

“’Tis naught but a humble farm estate, ken?” he was saying, his words rushed and clumsy. “If ye—think you’d be happier someplace more–”

“No, I didn’t mean—!” I rolled to face him and let the truth of it show in my eyes. “It’s only that I don’t want to fall in love with a place we might have to leave.”

Happy relief flooded his face. “I dinna ever wish to leave, truthfully. I do think you’ll love it, Sassenach.” A flicker of doubt. “But do ye truly think ye can be happy? It’s no’ an easy life, a farm. We’ve servants and laborers, but there shall still—”

“I know I can, Jamie. I know it.” 

And just as I vowed it, just as I savored the happy joy radiating from him, from me, the weight of history came crashing down around my shoulders. 

My face must have fallen, for he was turning it up to him. “Mo nighean donn?” 

And though it threatened to crush my heart into dust, I told him.  About the war to come; the ‘45, and Bonnie Prince Charlie. The doomed cause. The famines. The Clearances. The endless upheavals and hardships that would all but destroy the Scotland he knew in just a few short years. How our life together would almost certainly be shaped—friends and family destroyed, if not ourselves, and that only by the grace of God— by an utterly doomed cause. 

He said not a word while I spoke, but I watched his face harden into a mask of control, a sign of just how deeply he, too, felt the fear and dread of the devastation that loomed so close at hand. He had come to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of stars as I prophesied doom over the perfect happiness of this night, our life. 

“Is there…” he said, long after I’d fallen silent, “…anything we can do against this?” I turned onto my side to face him, though he still stared at the sky. “Mightn’t we—” He ran a hand backward through his hair. “Since we ken what’s to come, might we take steps to change things?” The desperate hope in his eyes… “Prevent some of this tragedy before it can run its course?” 

My mind reeled. Intentionally change the future? 

“I don’t know how much two people could do, Jamie,” I said, giving him honesty. 

He set his jaw and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment as though committing some prayer upward.  I brought an arm up and across his chest, half-laying on him as I put a soft hand on his cheek. “But we will do what we can. We’ll take measures to keep Lallybroch safe, at the very least; to keep our family safe. I promise.”

A sigh escaped him, something like relief, and he pulled me close, my cheek on his chest. “Then lead us, wise woman,” he murmured, “and keep us from harm.”

There was no laughter in his voice—only feeling, and genuine supplication. “Perhaps, Claire….Maybe ye were brought back to this time no’ just to save me, but many in these troubles to come.” 

God, the weight of those words upon me—the burden of knowledge of what was to come. 

“I don’t—It still might not be enough—”

He put a gentle finger to my lips. “I trust ye, mo nighean donn. And whatever must be done, we’ll face it together.”

I kissed him, long, soft, and deep. Together.  

A long time later, my parched throat overcame coziness and I stood, at which he made the most adorable little needy sound of protest. “I’m only going to get the canteen, you animal!” 

Still, I made a little show of sauntering over to our bags by the adjacent wall, bending luxuriously over, and taking a long swallow with my back to him, nearly spitting out the water to hear his sounds of distress all the while. “You do know how to make a girl feel gratified, Jamie. Positively got it down to an ART!”

“No’ art. Sheer. *animal*. weakness.” 

We both laughed, but when I turned back to face him, on his side watching me, his expression was serious, sweet with love. “Ye ken…I loved you, Sassenach, since I held you in my arms, that first day we arrived at Leoch.” 

I could only beam with happiness at the memory. God, that fireside…

(…and given the evident solemnity in what he was about to say, I refrained from mentioning the rather vivid association in my mind between that encounter and HORSES.) 

 “I loved you, then…” he went on, grinning, “—but Christ, when you fell into that river–”

Pushed,” I couldn’t keep from correcting with a playful grimace.

“Oh aye, when Ned Gowan—may he be sainted for it—pushed ye into the river,” he amended with a flash of a grin before continuing, quiet once more “—and ye let me carry ye… undress ye… hold ye… Christ….” He sat up and stared at me, shaking his head. “Claire, mo chridhe: my entire life just—rearranged around me.”

“I wanted it to be you.” My throat was so tight, it came out in a pitifully flimsy whisper.  

“What was that, lass?” he asked eagerly, standing and crossing to me where I stood leaning against the cool stones of the wall.

“When you set me down by the fire, that night, I knew I needed body heat.” I splayed my hands across his broad, smooth chest, tracing the beautiful outline of him.  “I was so far gone I couldn’t get the words out, and Murtagh, bless him, he was on the right track, so I just curled up and let things take their course, but—Jamie, I so badly ached for it to be you. I wanted….I kept trying to pluck up the courage to just say it.” 

He brushed a curl back from my face. “Say what?” 

“‘Jamie! You. Me. Warmth Cuddles! Spit spot!’” 

We both laughed, but I felt my belly clutch in memory. “But I was afraid, for so many reasons.” 

He pressed me gently back against the wall and kissed me, giving me the gift of not having to speak aloud the main reason for my fear and shame over my feelings that night. “Well, if you were afraid, Sassenach,” he said against my lips, “I was fairly shitting myself.” 

Memory, sadness, shame: banished. I chortled rather gracelessly into his mouth. “Oh, yes, that was quite apparent, love.”

He rolled his eyes as he smiled, sheepishly. “Christ, I wanted ye so badly I could scarcely breathe. A green, virgin lad handed a naked goddess and asked to mind her through the cold, dark night??“ 

“I wasn’t naked, you oaf!!” 

“Ye should have told that to my cock. It couldna seem to tell the difference.” We nearly dissolved into another fit of giggles before he groaned ruefully. “Had to say my hail marys to keep from embarrassing myself. WELL, I did embarrass myself, did I not?—to keep from doing something lecherous.” He stepped a pace back from me, shaking his head with a kind of dark awe as he surveyed me from head to toe. “It certainly felt as if it should be a sin….to behold you, so.”

I gave a dramatic look backward at my posterior, then another conspicuously between his legs, raising my eyebrows in pleasant surprise at what I found there. “Makes one wonder whether sin is half so bad, after all.”

THAT fast. Fire burned in his eyes as he closed the distance between us, jerked me off my feet, and pressed me against the wall—NOT gently. I came alive for him, wrapped my legs around him in visceral, lightning-fast permission, and he entered me with a sharp thrust that sent a deep gasp wrenching from my throat. And he was moving deep, deep, deeper inside me as he growled into my ear:

 “Then give me my sin again, Sassenach.


Thank you all SO MUCH for your support of this story!

I’m leaving things open-ended on purpose, just in case there comes a prompt that fits nicely with this AU that compels me to open it back up (just like I did with this renewal!).  

But for the time being, I’m perfectly happy to leave the Frasers to ride off into the sunset. Thank you all again :) 

-Mod Bonnie

That Kind Of Stark(Stark!Reader x Peter Parker)

Word Count: 2451

Summary: Peter Parker finally talks to his crush, the reader, and finally puts two and two together.

Warnings: underage drinking. seriously, donโ€™t do it

A/N: Yay some Peter!! I tried to get this up last night but my power went out and Iโ€™m only just getting it back! Ugh. But hey, this was so much fun to write. I love little teeny bopper Peter hehe.

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Ned: Daddy, why you still sad?

Knox: Well, uh….mommy’s not coming home anytime soon. At all, really.

Ned: Why? What happen?

Knox: We can talk about it when you’re a bit older, but let’s just say mommy and I aren’t friends anymore.

Ned: Oh. I still your friend, daddy. It okay.

Knox: Thanks, noodle. That means a lot.

malscontent-deactivated20170225  asked:

Hi, Butterfly. I have a question concerning Theon Greyjoy. If the events from the start of the novels onward never happened and the Starks remained happily in Winterfell, what kind of future would Theon have had? Would he ever be allowed to return to Pyke? Theon seemed to think that Ned might have married him to Sansa eventually, but that seems unlikely. What kind of future does a highborn prisoner of war have in Westeros?

Well… I’ve discussed this subject a few times before (1, 2, and links within those posts), and y’know… like with Jon Snow, there’s very little evidence that Ned had any kind of plan for Theon’s future.  Theon was a child hostage, starting at age 10… but 9 years on, a grown man, he was still a hostage to prevent his father from starting up a new rebellion. (Not that it helped.) Of course, you don’t need to be a child to be a hostage, but it did leave Theon’s life with no direction – while he was noble and a “ward” of the Starks, he can’t hold land, he can’t marry, he can’t start a family – it’s permanent arrested development.

Anyway. Sometimes it’s really sad that Ned Stark’s POV is only in AGOT, with so much of it focused on the plot instead of all the little details of everyday life we could use for our what-ifs. (ADWD-style GRRM writing Ned… sigh…) Since all we have of Ned’s POV re Theon is two (fairly useless) lines, all we can do is guess. So I’m guessing that Ned might have been waiting for Balon to die, and then maybe would have sent Theon home as a North-sympathetic heir… with a northern army to secure his seat from his uncles, and to make sure he doesn’t become Balon II.

Although, if Balon managed to live as long as Walder Frey, what would have become of Theon in that case I have no idea. OK, some idea… maybe eventually Ned would have arranged Theon’s marriage to a bannerman’s daughter* for the extra alliance there, and maybe sent Theon (with an army) to depose his father (or uncle)… but that seems unusually ambitious for Ned, so maybe not.

*(Sansa was only “a child’s fancy”, and yes, extremely unlikely. And a hostage can have their marriage arranged by their captor, though note forced vows are invalid – however, a marriage wouldn’t necessarily have been against Theon’s will if the girl were pretty enough and/or brought him the kind of security he was longing for. If I had to guess, I’d think one of the Manderly girls would be the best option (probably the elder, Wynafryd), especially since White Harbor is on the Narrow Sea and Wyman Manderly would really like a fleet.)

Or maybe Theon would have just stayed in the North forever and formed a northern cadet house of House Greyjoy, kind of like how there’s a House Kenning (of Harlaw) in the Iron Islands and a House Kenning (of Kayce) in the Westerlands. And yeah, maybe he would be a hostage always… like, Jaime plans to imprison Edmure Tully in Casterly Rock with his wife and (hopeful) daughter and who knows possibly future children too, for all the rest of his life, so that could have been Theon’s fate as well.

Or maybe not. Maybe Ned actually did have some kind of plan for Theon, something completely different. But the events of the novels happened instead, so I suppose we’ll never know.

Surprise (Peter Parker x Reader)

Originally posted by spiderholland

Word Count: 1017

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader 

AN: I love this new released clip so much I had to do this. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aunt May yelled from her seat on the couch after hearing a loud thud come from her nephews room. Meanwhile Peter Parker had just stealthy crawled back into his room wearing his Spider-man suit, not being aware that his best friend Ned was also in the room and well, this is where the story begins.

“Uh nothing! nothing!” Peter frantically called back, hoping that his aunt wouldn’t come check on him, then his new double life would really be over. Turning back to his friend nervously he quickly hit the middle of his chest causing his suit to easily slip off his body leaving him in just his boxers. 

Ned’s expression of pure shock still hadn’t left his face as he tries to process the fact that his friend secretly was a superhero. “You’re the Spider-man from Youtube.” Peter was still panicking over the situation as he tried to deny what his friend was saying, this was meant to be kept a secret and now Ned of all people found out. What if he couldn’t keep this a secret? “I’m not-”

 “You were on the ceiling.” Ned exclaimed seeming to be distressed at the fact that his best friend had crawled across his bedroom walls like a spider. Still going with the idea to deny the fact that he was a superhero, Peter attempted to change the topic off of himself. “I wasn’t! Man what are you doing in my room?!”

“May let me in, you and me were gonna finish the death star!” He gestured towards the now demolished lego replica of the death star from Star Wars on the ground that they both had spent hours working on. Peter shushed the boy to quiet his voice so that his aunt couldn’t hear their conversation. Pointing to the door he explained what he was trying to shush him for, realising that Ned wasn’t going to just forget what he saw so he might as well be honest now. “She doesn’t know. Nobody knows, I mean Mr Starks knows but that’s because he designed my suit.”

Eyes widening at the name Stark, Ned’s jaw almost fell to the floor as he stared at his friend admiringly. “Tony Stark made you that…are you an avenger?” Thinking about this in his head Peter decided to just go with it, he did fight with the avengers in Germany anyway. “Well…yeah basically.”

Almost letting out a squeal at knowing his friend was an avenger, Ned looked like he was about to faint from this new information. Peter tried to calm him down because he didn’t need him freaking out and his aunt walking in any second. “Dude you can’t tell anybody though alright? You gotta keep this a secret.” His tone became serious as he pleaded with his friend to keep Spider-man’s identity anonymous.

Confused as to why his friend wouldn’t want everybody knowing he had super powers Ned’s eyebrows furrowed. “A secret why-”

“Because if May finds out there are people trying to kill me every night she’s not gonna let me do this anymore!”

Realising his point was a more than valid one, Ned agreed with the Parker boy. “Okay okay okay, I’ll-”

However before he could finish his sentence you happened to have barged into Peter’s room yourself, eyes focused on your phone as you walked. “Hey Ned is Peter back I heard noises-” Your words were stopped short when your eyes looked up catching sight of Peter Parker in nothing but his boxers holding a Spider-Man costume in his hands, next to Ned who looks like he just saw a ghost. “What the flippity heck is going on in here? Ned what did you do to the death star? And peter why are you almost naked and holding a Spider-man suit in your hand-” 

Cutting you off Peter advanced towards you clamping a hand over your mouth, gesturing for you to keep quiet. “Ssssh i’ll explain everything just be quiet. I don’t want May to know.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his words as he removed his hand, what was he hiding? “Know what?” 

Before he could answer however, Ned’s voice squeaked out behind him. “That Peter is Spider-man.” Instantly finding Ned’s explanation hilarious, you almost hunched over in laughter at his joke. Well…you believed it to be one anyway, you had no idea those words would ever be serious. “Yeah right, Peter Parker is Spider-man. You’re funny Ned.” 

“Oh my god Ned I told you not to tell anybody- hey wait a minute! Why is that hilarious to you?” Peter seemed offended by your laughter, his ego definitely hurt by the insult. “Because you’re my little Peter. No offence but you don’t seem like the superhero type.” 

Now forgetting his previous plan to keep this a secret, Peter’s pride made him now want to prove a point. “But it’s true. I am Spider-man.” 

Snorting at his words you rolled your eyes at the boy. “Sure okay big guy.” Your voice came out mockingly, only making Peter want to prove that you were wrong even more. “I am! I’ll prove it!” Leaning back against the wall beside you, you crossed your arms as you only chuckled at his reaction.“Oh yeah and how exactly will you prove that-” 

Before you could finish you sentence the boy starts crawling up the wall and onto the ceiling. Fricking crawling up the god damn wall like a spider! You immediately let out a scream at what you saw whilst Ned and Peter told you to quiet down so May wouldn’t come in.“Oh my god! Holy shit! You’re the freaking Spider-man!” 

Dropping back down to the ground he wore a cocky smirk as he took in your reaction.“Believe me now?” 

You became extremely excited about this new information, you had a superhero best friend! “Oh my god my best friend is a superhero. You need to tell me everything.” Taking a seat on the edge of his bed Peter let out a sigh as he thought of the day this all began.“Well remember that school trip to oscorp…”

.: how to catch a nerd 2 :.

this series is going to be my favorite thing to write tbh โ™ก

Since Iโ€™ve got so many readers hyped for this story, hereโ€™s an early update โ™ก

previous: http://hey-underoos.tumblr.com/post/161180873356/how-to-catch-a-nerd-1

[how to catch a nerd taglist]: @parker-barnes-af , @preciousnewt , @samanthasmileys , @lostinghemazewithhallows , @1022bridgetp , @literature-loving-girl , @fashionlive15 , @raksh-thedemonlady , @tiny-friggin-human , @clean-and-claire , @imsecretlyromanburki , @devan-d , @legendarydazekitten , @fxcking-meatball

donโ€™t repost/plagiarize this series.


Peter couldnโ€™t hide the grin from his face the more he talked to this girl. She clearly had an intelligence that matched her beauty, and that just made him all the more interested in her. [Name] embodied everything he ever wanted in a girl, and he looked forward to getting to know her better.

Unlike the girls at Midtown who only wanted him for his looks and for the chance to climb up the social ladder, he knew that [Name] was different. They never wanted to get to know who was beneath this cool guy exterior, and Peter was tired of pretending all the time.

Which was why he was was so drawn to [Name], maybe with her, there was a chance.

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