#there will be a great hurt but for now - i want them to be happy at least for a moment

[nomie-11]

First Call Back

masterlist! | part 1 here!

synopsis: after your impromptu move to Piltover, not all of your solutions are solved, but you're finally together again, so maybe this could work out, right?

pairings: vi x reader, powder is lowkey reader's adoptive daughter

“I’m heading out early today, so don’t look for me when you wake up. Breakfast is in the fridge, Powder is At school, and I’ve started the laundry. Don’t forget that ‘how is Powder adjusting to fancy private school meeting’ is tomorrow at 7:00. I promise I’ll shower after work so I don’t scare off the teacher. See you later. Love you, babe.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, September 3rd, 7:32 a.m.

—————

You hadn’t quite made up your mind about Piltover yet. Yes, you had already moved there, and what little belongings you had were already set and away in your new apartment, but Piltover was weird. 

You could tell Powder wasn’t entirely happy about it, too. You and Vi had lined up the move so that Powder would start fresh on her first day of her first year of high school. The two of you (and Caitlyn) had even taken Powder out to get some new clothes, and she appreciated it, but you knew when she wasn’t feeling great. 

It all came to a head when, one night for dinner, you were sitting across from Powder, Vi on your other side with her textbooks and notes spread out, headphones pulled securely down over her ears. 

“How was school today, baby?” you asked softly, looking up from your plate to her, sitting in the kitchen chair she had claimed as her own, her knees pulled into her chest. Her soft, violet blue eyes were rimmed red as she glanced at you. 

“It was fine,” she mumbled, using her fork to push around her food on her plate, immediately shifting her gaze back down. She hadn’t taken a single bite all night—something that used to be foreign, she always used to eat, purely off the knowledge that you had sacrificed something for her plate to be full. 

With a soft sigh, you reached across the table, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. 

“You’ll tell me when you want me to braid your hair, okay?” 

She just nodded, dropping her fork onto the plate and pushing it towards you. “Thanks for dinner.” 

—————

“Did Powder tell you what’s going on? Those fancy Piltover assholes have been bullying her—saying she’s too skinny, that her hair is weird. They took her sketchbook today and started tearing out pages. When she got home from school, she just went straight to her room, didn’t even say hi. I had to force her to tell me when she finally grabbed a snack and took one of your high protein, high calorie bars that she hates.”

—phone call from Y/n to Vi, September 28th, 4:39 p.m.

—————

The walls of the apartment were a sterile white. Powder originally was excited to decorate them with you, but the excitement had fizzled out as quickly as it came. Boxes still sat unopened in the corner of her room, her sketches and art supplies untouched. The bright posters you’d picked out to liven up the place remained rolled up on her desk. She spent most of her time curled up on her bed, headphones in, drowning out the world. 

It hurt to see her like this. Powder had always been the spark, the light in the darkest days. Now, her spark seemed dimmed, weighed down by the move, the new school, and the unfamiliar faces that didn’t bother to understand her. 

That night, as you were tidying up the kitchen, you heard her soft footsteps approach. Powder hovered at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than ever. 

“Hey, baby,” you said, wiping your hands on a towel. “What’s up?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the floor. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “Can I… can I have some juice?”

“Of course,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light as you moved to the fridge. “You want your usual cup and straw too?”

She nodded, still not meeting your eyes. You grabbed the juice in silence, the quiet punctuated only by the soft click of Powder’s favorite cup against the metal of her straw. When it was ready, you placed the cup in front of her at the table, sitting down across from her. 

For a moment, she just stared at the mug, her hands cradling it for warmth. Then, she took a shaky breath and said, “I miss home.” 

Your heart clenched. “I know, baby,” you said softly. “It’s okay to miss it. This is a big change.” 

She nodded again, her eyes glassy. “It’s just… everything’s different here. The school, the kids, they don’t get me.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, reaching out to take her hand. “I”m sorry I can’t fix this for you, but you don’t have to go through this alone, okay? Me and Vi—we’re here for you. Always.” 

Powder sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. Then, out of nowhere, she murmured, “Thanks, mom.” 

The words hit you like a freight train. Your breath caught, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her. Powder didn’t even seem to realize what she’d said, her focus still on the mug in her hands. 

—————

“I don’t think she even knows she did it on purpose. But it still hit me, Y/n. Like I’ve been trying so hard to make things better, to be there, and she… she doesn’t even see me like that. I guess I deserve it. I left her.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, September 29th, 12:14 a.m.

—————

The next morning, Vi wasn’t at the breakfast table. Powder had barely touched her cereal, her spoon stirring it listlessly. You decided against pushing her to eat more; the last thing she needed was added pressure. 

“Vi’s still upset, huh?” Powder asked, her voice small. 

“She’s just tired, baby,” You said, sitting down beside her. “She loves you so much, Powder. You know that, right?” 

Powder nodded, but her eyes stayed downcast. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

“I know,” you murmured, brushing a strand of her soft blue hair behind her ear. “It’s just… complicated. She’s trying to figure out how to be what you need. And sometimes, it’s easier for her to feel like she’s not enough.” 

Powder looked up at you then, eyes wide. “But she is. She’s enough.” 

“I think she needs to hear that from you,” you said gently. 

—————

“Can you come home? Powder feels like shit, and I know you said you’re going for a run and I shouldn’t wait up for you, but I need to talk to you tonight.”

—phone call from Y/n to Vi, October 12th, 11:23 p.m.

—————

Powder had already gone to bed when Vi finally came through the door, her face flushed from a run that went on for longer than was originally planned. You were sitting on the couch, nursing a cup of tea, waiting for her. 

“Hey,” you said softly. 

“Hey,” she replied, toeing off her shoes. She didn’t sit beside you, instead heading for the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

“You can’t just keep running away,” you said, your voice calm but firm. 

Vi froze mid-pour. “I’m not running,” she said after a moment, her tone defensive. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, setting your tea down on the counter. “Powder needs you right now. She feels terrible about what happened, Vi. And honestly? So do I.”

Vi turned to face you, her jaw tight. “Why would you feel terrible? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Because I should’ve seen this coming,” you said, standing up. “I should’ve talked to you about how she sees me, about how much she relies on me when you’re not around. This wasn’t fair to either of you.” 

Vi’s shoulders slumped, her anger deflating. “I just… I wanted to fix things,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wanted her to see me as her sister again, not some stranger who shows up every now and then.” 

“She does,” you said, stepping closer, resting your hand on her arm. “But Vi, you can’t force her to heal overnight. She’s grown up. She’s changed.” 

Vi’s eyes filled with tears, and she set the glass down with a shaky hand, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in her shoulder. “I’m not cut out for this,” she whispered. 

“You are,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around her. “We’ll figure this out.”

—————

“I helped Powder with her art project last night. We stayed up until midnight cutting out tiny stars because Powder didn’t like how hers turned out. It was the first time I’ve seen Powder smile in weeks. I think… I think we might be okay.” 

—phone call from Vi to Caitlyn Kiramman, October 17th, 10:22 a.m.

—————

The next week, the three of you went out for ice cream. It wasn’t much—just a quick trip to a small shop down the block—but it felt like a turning point. Powder clung to Vi’s arm the whole way there, her sketchbook tucked under her other arm. Vi didn’t let go once, even holding the door open with her foot. 

As you sat at a table, Powder flipping through her drawings to show Vi her latest ideas, you caught a glimpse of the sister Vi had been before everything had fallen apart. She laughed at Powder’s jokes, teased her about her favorite colors, and even let Powder draw on her arms around her tattoos.

“Maybe you should get it tattooed,” Powder said with a smile, pulling back her marker to give you a clear view of the intricate lines of flowers crawling up Vi’s mechanical ink. 

Vi grinned. “You think so? Maybe we can get matching ones someday.” 

Powder’s eyes lit up. “Really?” 

“Totally,” Vi said, ruffling her hair. 

You watched them, your chest tight with a mix of relief and undying love. For the first time since the move, things felt… okay.

—————

“I saw Powder hug Vi today. Like, really hug her—not one of those quick, awkward ones. She clung to her, just like she used to. Vi cried when she thought I wasn’t looking.” 

—phone call from Y/n to Caitlyn Kiramman, October 28th, 7:48 p.m.

—————

Powder and Ekko had claimed the living room, their laughter spilling into the kitchen where you and Vi were cleaning up after dinner. Powder’s sketchbook and Ekko’s toolbox—filled with small scraps of metal and wires—were spread out on the coffee table, and you could hear them trading ideas for some kind of contraption they wanted to build together. 

“They’re loud, but I’m not complaining,” Vi said, drying a plate. 

“Neither am I,” you said with a soft smile, handing her another dish to dry. “She’s never had a friend like him before.”

Vi glanced over her shoulder at the two teens, her expression softening. “She deserves to have someone like him. Someone who gets it.” 

“Yeah, she does,” you agreed, turning back to the sink. “Genius and madness. Let’s just hope they don’t blow up the apartment.” 

Vi snorted, leaning on the counter beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “If they do, at least we know Powder will find a way to fix it.” 

You chuckled, glancing over at the living room. Powder was laughing now, a real, uninhibited laugh that filled the apartment with a warmth you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Ekko was gesturing wildly, clearly explaining some grand idea, and Powder was nodding along, her now short blue hair bobbing with enthusiasm. 

“She’s totally doing better,” Vi said quietly, her eyes on her sister. 

“She is,” you replied, reaching for her next dish. 

Vi’s hand covered yours, stilling your movement. “Thanks for sticking with us,” she said, her voice low but sincere. “I don’t say it enough, but I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

You squeezed her hand, your heart swelling. “You don’t have to thank me, Vi. I love you both too much for you to ever have to know what you’d do without me.” 

The sound of something crashing in the living room snapped both of your heads toward the noise. Powder and Ekko froze, their eyes wide as they looked at the overturned coffee table and the scattered parts of their project. 

“Uh… we can fix it!” Powder blurted, already scrambling to gather the pieces. 

Vi groaned, running a hand over her face. “I stand by what I said. They’re definitely blowing up the apartment.”

You laughed, grabbing a towel to clean up the spilled juice. “At least they’re having fun doing it.” 

Vi smirked, shaking her head. “They’re lucky they’re cute.” 

—————

“Hey, Cait. I know I’m running late for our lab, I swear I’m on my way—I just got a little held up at home. So much is going on. Powder’s smiling more, and she’s made this friend—a kid named Ekko—just moved here from Zaun with his adoptive father. They’ve been hanging out at our place, and for once I don’t feel like I’m walking on eggshells around her. 

And Y/n just applied to Piltover University for night classes. Can you believe it? She’s so nervous, but I know she’s gonna crush it. I told her I’d help with whatever she needs. Anyways, I’m on my way! Don’t wait for me.” 

—phone call from Vi to Caitlyn Kiramman, November 4th, 11:14 a.m.

—————

The day your acceptance letter arrived, Vi practically tackled you in excitement. 

“I told you!” She crowed, spinning you around the kitchen. “I told you you’d get in!”

”Vi, put me down!” You laughed, trying to wriggle free. 

“No way! This is huge, Y/n!” She said, finally setting you down but not letting go of your hands. “You’re going to college! You’re going to kill it. I’m so proud of you.” 

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening at the pride shining in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have even applied if it wasn’t for you.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Vi said, pulling you into a hug. “You did this. And I can’t wait for study dates, and walking you to and from class, and complaining about professors together, and—”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I haven’t enrolled yet, Vi. Deep breaths.”

—————

“I booked a reservation at that fancy rooftop place Caitlyn told us about. I figured we deserve a night out, just us. Ekko’s staying over with Powder—don’t worry, Benzo is cool with it. So… wear that dress I like, okay? I want to show you off a little.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, 

—————

The rooftop restaurant was beautiful, lit by strings of fairy lights that twinkle like stars. Vi had somehow snagged a table near the edge (she name-dropped Caitlyn Kiramman and the hostess got nervous), where you could see all of Piltover stretched out below you. She looked good—too good—in her black button-up, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her tattoos and rippling muscles. 

“You clean up nice,” you teased, sipping your wine that tasted like a week’s worth of groceries. 

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back, her eyes shamelessly roamed over you. “That dress is illegal. I should arrest you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That line’s terrible. You shouldn’t take pickup lines from an enforcer-in-training.” 

“But it worked, didn’t it?” She said with a smug grin. 

The night passed in a blur of laughter and soft touches, a reminder of the easy connection you’d had before life got so hard. For the first time since you graduated and she moved to Piltover, you felt like a couple again-not just two people trying to hold everything together. 

As you walked home, Vi slipped her hand into yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the evening. The streets were quieter now, the usual hustle of Piltover replaced by the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional buzz of an airship overhead. 

“You know,” Vi started, her voice thoughtful, “for two kids trying to figure out how to raise another kid, we didn’t do too bad.” 

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “We did a pretty good job, actually. Powder is turning out great. She’s like this because of you, you know.” 

“Us,” she corrected, her gaze earnest. “Powder would’ve run for the hills if it was just me.” 

“You’re underselling yourself,” you said, nudging her shoulder. “You're a great big sister. She knows that now.” 

Vi’s lips quirked into a soft smile, her free hand brushing over her short hair. “I guess I’ll take the compliment. But I hope you know you’re the glue. Powder and I just cling to you.” 

The sincerity in her voice made your heart ache in the best way. “I do. I know.” 

The building loomed ahead, its familiar stone facade dimly lit under the streetlights. As you reached the doorway, Vi stopped, turning to face you fully. Her hands found your waist, pulling you just a little closer, her thumb brushing absentmindedly over the fabric of your dress. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured, her voice loud. “And I’m so proud of you. Not just for tonight—for everything. Going to college, always working so hard for Powder, you’ve been carrying all of us, and you make it look so effortless. And I don’t tell you enough how much I… love you.” 

The words were warm and steady, her familiar cadence grounding you in a way that nothing else could. “You don’t have to. I feel it every day.” 

Her smile softened, her eyes searching yours in the quiet of the moment. Then, slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours with a tenderness that took you back to the first time you kissed on the roof of her dad’s old apartment building. You melted into her touch, your hands sliding up to rest against her chest, to feel the steady beat of her heart beneath your fingertips. 

The kiss deepened, a slow, deliberate exchange of all the things words couldn’t express. When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Vi rested her forehead against yours, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Let’s go home.” 

And with her hand still tightly around yours, you did. 

—————

“Hey, Pow! Don’t forget to set your alarm! I need you distracting her all day tomorrow so I can get the apartment ready. Time to propose!”

—phone call from Vi to Powder, June 13th, 1:43 a.m.

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[ptergwen]

Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY YOUR BACK! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: You’re unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peter’s voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok

stay

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w/c: 2,005

warnings: mentions of blood, angst (happy ending!)

a/n: hi lovely thank you sm! you guys know i love my angst so i felt very in my element with this one hehe, thanks for the patience while i get used to writing again! feel free to keep sending in your reqs and chatting, i love hearing from y'all and will answer asap ♡

"y/n? it's over, i got him. i’ll come find you, okay?"

you don't answer.

"y/n/n? can you hear me?"

there's only silence on peter's end of the headset. peter isn't worried, not at first. he figures maybe you just got disconnected.

"y/n?"

nothing.

now that peter hasn't heard from you on the third try, he is starting to worry. the two of you had gotten separated during your mission. the plan was for you to distract your opponent and peter to web him up, but you lost him somewhere along the way. it was hard to stick together in the dark, twisty tunnels. he'd thought it would be best to take care of your opponent himself and find you after.

tony is going to kill him if he let anything happen to you. it's okay, though. he can just use his suit to track your location.

"friday?"

"yes, peter?"

"take me to y/n."

peter swings through the tunnels to get to you faster. friday guides him, which he's grateful for because he doesn't have a great sense of navigation as is. it's even more difficult underground. peter lands where friday tells him to, but he doesn't see you.

"are you sure this is where she is? i think she might've lost connection... maybe her location didn't update."

"y/n's watch is online, peter."

peter notices something on the ground, its blinking light catching his attention. he picks it up. sure enough, it's your stark tech watch, but where are you?

"would you like me to check again?"

peter makes out a figure a few feet away. it isn't moving. he takes a few steps toward the figure, reaching for his mask.

"that's okay. thanks, friday."

he removes his mask to see better, brows knitting together. something doesn't feel right. peter's senses confirm it, the hairs on his arms standing up and eyes focusing harder in the darkness. in peter's head, he already knows it's you. in his heart, he hopes it isn't.

peter crouches down and puts a hand on the figure's shoulder, rolling them over to face him.

it's you.

your spandex suit has some rips in it, and dirt is coating your back. your mask is pulled up part of the way. peter takes it off, revealing blood dripping down your forehead, your eyes just barely open. tears roll down your cheeks. peter cups your face tenderly in his hands, eyes desperately searching for yours.

"oh my god, baby, what happened?"

"that guy."

your voice comes out weak. despite the blood and tears staining his gloved fingers and the tightening in his throat, peter does his best to stay calm.

"what guy? the one we were fighting?"

"yeah."

"he did this to you?"

you hum in response. peter props an arm behind your head for support.

"it's okay. everything's gonna be okay."

"but... it hurts."

"i know, baby. but you're gonna be okay. we're gonna get you home and..."

your eyes flutter closed.

"hey, hey, hey. look at me."

peter strokes your cheek, willing you to stay awake. you grunt.

"tell me where it hurts so i can take a look. can you do that for me, y/n? where does it hurt?"

"my head. on top."

peter carefully parts your hair, searching for the source of your bleeding. there's a damp patch of hair near the top of your head. he moves it aside and finds a gash. it's small, but fairly deep. he doesn't think he can handle this on his own; he needs to tell tony.

"i’m gonna call your dad, okay?"

you don't respond. your eyes are closed when peter looks for them.

"y/n? you have to stay awake."

you don't say or do anything to indicate that you hear him. tears prick peter's eyes, threatening to spill over. he doesn't know much about head injuries, but he knows this isn't good.

"please wake up, y/n/n."

peter grabs both your shoulders and shakes, hard enough that it should wake you. nothing. you seem to have slipped into some sort of an unconscious state.

your watch starts to beep with an incoming call from your dad. peter accepts it with a shaking hand.

"friday tells me your vitals are suspiciously low, little lady. what's going on?"

peter fights to keep his tears at bay. he cradles your head with one hand, placing his other on your heart. he needs to feel your heartbeat to remind himself you're still here.

"it's me, tony."

"kid? where's y/n?"

a quiet sob escapes him, tears finally falling. tony doesn't need to hear anything else.

"i’m on my way."

it doesn't take long for tony to get to you and peter. he comes whirring through the tunnels, retracting his iron man suit when he lands. you lie on the ground, your head in peter's lap. you'd woken up shortly after peter spoke to your dad, but you aren't really responsive. peter is cradling your head gently in both hands and whispering words of reassurance.

he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice tony is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"what happened, kid?"

tony kneels down next to peter.

"i... i don't know. the guy we were fighting... i didn't see, i think she hit her head."

"okay, okay. let me see the damage."

tony uses his watch to illuminate the dark area. there's dry blood all around the crown of your head, in your hair. it's worse than he expected. he doesn't let it show, though. he doesn't want to alarm you any more than you already are, or peter for that matter; he's a mess.

"i found this."

peter moves your hair to show your dad the wound on your head. tony shines the light on you to get a better look. concern flashes in his eyes briefly, but long enough for peter to see it.

"friday, call the med bay. tell them it's my daughter."

"yes, boss. it appears y/n may have a concussion. i've detected a large contusion."

you bring a hand up to your head, trying to feel the wound. peter coaxes your hand away with a don't touch, baby. you try to say something, but you can't. you're in too much pain. your dad and peter share a knowing look.

"we'll be there soon, fri. make sure they're ready for us. and call happy, tell him to pick us up asap."

"i’ll let them know right away, boss."

a bright light shines directly in your eyes, making you stir a bit in peter's lap. you whine and squeeze your eyes shut. fresh tears fall down your cheeks.

"it's okay, it's okay. it's just your old man."

you squint your eyes open.

"dad?"

"hey, y/n/n."

"what... what're you doing?"

"just gotta take a look at something. look up?"

you try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids feel heavy. tony holds one of your eyes open himself, then the other. he clicks his tongue.

"what's wrong? is she okay?" peter asks your dad.

"pupils are bigger than they should be. still reacting to light, though. that's good."

"what does it mean if her pupils are too big?"

"friday's right. she could have a mild concussion."

the light turns off, your body finally relaxing. peter's body stiffens.

"that's serious, isn't it?"

peter looks from tony to you, stroking your hair and cupping your cheek, then back up at tony. tony can see the fear in his eyes.

"it shouldn't be, the bleeding just gave us a scare. we'll know more when we get her home."

you grab at peter's knee. he places his hand over yours, thumb smoothing along the back of your hand. you look around the tunnel with blurry vision.

peter doesn't like the uncertainty of this. they don't even know the extent of your injuries, just that they might be serious. he knows you're going to be okay, that tony and the med bay team know what to do and you'll bounce back from this because you're you, but he's scared. you've never been hurt this badly before.

"happy's got our location. he'll be here as soon as he can," tony tells you, voice uncharacteristically soft. you blink your eyes in response. "how long is that gonna be?" peter asks.

"i’m not sure, kid."

hot, frustrated tears fill peter's eyes.

"we can't just wait around anymore. she's been like this for a while."

"trust me, pete. i don't like waiting either."

"then let's just bring her back ourselves."

tony gives peter a stern look.

"let's not."

"why not? it's faster if one of us takes her. i’ll swing her there right now."

peter is already scooping you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. you groan at the sudden movement. tony removes you from peter's arms and takes you into his own protectively.

"i said no. we're not flying her home, and we're definitely not swinging her. it isn't safe."

peter stays quiet, blinking back tears.

"you've gotta remember, y/n isn't like you. she doesn't have powers. for the stark's, it's just us out there."

he knows tony is right, of course he is. he forgets how vulnerable you actually are because you're always so strong. riding home with happy may take longer than peter wants it to, but it's safer for you. he needs to think about your best interest. putting other things first caused all of this in the first place.

if peter had found you earlier instead of finishing the fight, maybe he would have been able to get you help sooner. maybe you wouldn't be in this bad of a condition.

"i’m sorry, tony. i’m really, really sorry."

"no biggie, i get it. you're just looking out for her."

"no, that's the problem. i wasn't."

"what're you talking about?"

peter can't hold back his tears any longer.

"i wasn't there when y/n got hurt. it must've happened when we separated. when i found her, she... she was already like this."

"hey, kid. don't do that, don't blame yourself. you didn't know."

"i could've known if i paid more attention. i could've heard, or... or maybe she said something."

peter avoids tony's gaze, too ashamed to look at him, and too guilty to look at you.

"everyone gets caught up, pete. hell, you know i do. but you know what? you're here for y/n now, and we're taking care of her. that's what matters."

"you mean, you're not mad at me?"

tony surprises him by outstretching an arm and pulling him into a side hug. peter manages a small smile, wiping at his watery eyes.

"do i seem mad?"

"guess not. thanks."

tony pats him on the shoulder.

"time to go. happy'll be here any minute."

"okay, i’ll go ahead of you guys so you can see where you're going."

peter starts to collect your things while your dad helps you up. you're disoriented, head pounding, and you stumble a bit because you don't quite have your balance. tony is quick to catch you.

"easy, y/n/n. you're alright, yeah?"

"i want peter."

"he's right here, just leading the way. i’m gonna help you."

"no, i want peter."

peter's heart clenches. he looks to your dad for permission.

"alright, parker. i'll trade you. but be careful, she's precious cargo."

tony lets go of you, but he stays close just in case. he takes your things from peter. you fling yourself into peter's arms, hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. peter hugs you to his chest. tony smiles at peter and nods in approval, making peter smile back.

"i got you," peter coos. "are you gonna need help walking, or you got it?"

"i dunno, i'm dizzy. carry me?"

"sure, baby."

peter picks you up bridal style, one arm secured under you and the other supporting your head. you loosely wrap your arms around his neck.

"can you stay with me when we get there?"

peter kisses the side of your head lightly.

"i’m not going anywhere."

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@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[grandline-fics]

Hello! I just found your blog and I am reading everything that you have (while working🤐)

I have to say I am in love with your writing. You are amazing, can't put the phone down.

I would love to be in the tag list for everything that you will write in the future.

Also if you don't mind can I ask for the Promp "Conforting Kisses" where the reader had a nightmare of the getting badly hurt and they give them kisses to forget maybe?

If you can do it for Luffy, Ace and Shanks I will be thankful for ever. If you don't want to write it is okey💕

Hope you have a great day! 💕

Thank you again for writing💕💖

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Comforting Kisses

WARNINGS:  descriptions of injury, mentions of death. slight angst. hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Shanks

WORDS: 1,340

A/N: Thank you so much for your support and this request! I made a mistake and mis-read it to think you wanted the reader to do the comforting. I also only managed to get something for Luffy and Shanks for this but I hope this is still to your liking and you enjoy how it turned out.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

LUFFY

He was so much stronger than he had been when you first met and joined him on the crew. Luffy had spent two years under Rayleigh’s instruction to ensure he’d never lose anyone else close to him again. So now why was he staring in horror, completely helpless and unable to intervene as you were overwhelmed by multiple heavy hitting opponents he’d defeated in the past. Each one got hit after hit on you, ignoring Luffy’s yells for them to leave you alone. As strong as a fighter as you were normally you were no match against these monsters striking all at once. You didn’t even seem to notice Luffy as he screamed and struggled to get to you. The Captain could only watch as your attackers fell back into shadows while you fell to your knees as a wave of Magellan’s poison and Akainu’s magma came crashing over you.

Luffy awoke with a shuddering gasp, limbs locked tightly and body trembling as the cold sweat broke over his skin. With every rapid breath he took, the images he’d just detached himself from flashed in his mind in the dark. Every desperate gulp of air just brought more of a panic, drawing him back to the darkest, lowest point in his life when he’d realised he was weak and couldn’t save his brother. What would he do if he lost you? Before a new panic could set in, he caught the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Immediately he was out of bed and approaching the door, opening it before you could even knock. “Oh, couldn’t sleep either Lu-”

Before you could finish your question, Luffy had his arms out like a shot and pulled you against him. Laying his head against your chest the sound of your heartbeat finally began to ground him, rooting him in reality and not the horrible nightmare that still clung to him. You’d initially tensed at the hug Luffy drew you into, not because of it being unexpected-it wasn’t given how affectionate he was with everyone-but because of how timid he seemed. This wasn’t a usual Luffy hug, filled with warmth and happiness. As you wrapped your arms around his shoulders you could feel the tremor in his frame and took note of how every so often his arms would try to pull you closer. Angling one hand you settled your finger’s against the back of his head, moving in gentle motions to help him relax from whatever nightmare he’d clearly had. 

Lightly you pressed a kiss against the top of Luffy’s head, a small smile tugging at your lips when Luffy slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze. It was reassuring to see he seemed more himself albeit still a little shaken. “Can you do that again? Felt nice.”

“Sure.” Leaning forward you pressed a longer but just as gentle kiss against his forehead, your smile growing to hear and feel Luffy’s body relax from the comforting action. You pulled back to watch him carefully. “Ready to go back to bed? I can stay with you if it helps.”

Unsurprisingly Luffy’s gaze hardened at the suggestion. He was tired, he wasn’t going to lie but at the same time he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to have that nightmare all over against your offer of staying helped him greatly. 

Together you moved back into Luffy’s room and lay down in the bed. Taking naps with Luffy was never anything new but since starting a relationship with him this was the first time you were going to spend the night in his bed. As much as you didn't like the circumstances that led to this but you couldn’t deny how right it felt to lie in Luffy’s arms, pressing comforting kisses against his head as he fell asleep to keep his nightmares away. 

SHANKS

Shanks knew this image well. Loguetown’s town square filled to the brim of people, their heads turned towards the towering execution block and awaiting the procession to appear on the top podium. Overhead thick grey clouds quickly swept in and darkened the clear morning, rain falling heavily as the winds began to shriek. Shanks lifted his arm to shield his eyes, his gaze firmly on the Marines who appeared. Your name was shouted out for the audience to hear and immediately Shanks’ body froze when the two Marines stepped aside and you were roughly shoved onto your knees. 

Your body looked so frail and small on top of the execution block. Even from where he stood he could see the bruises and cuts against your body as you knelt, hands held firmly by the heavy iron shackles and chains. Shanks quickly began to push through the crowd, trying to get to you but for every person he moved out of his way more replaced them. No, this couldn’t be happening. While the two Marines drew their weapons in preparation of what was to come, another stepped forward to begin calling out the charges. 

“You have been found guilty for aiding and abetting, harbouring, and consorting with known Pirate Emperor Red Hair Shanks on multiple accounts spanning years. For this clear defection of the World Government’s rule and repeated alliance with dangerous criminals we can only treat you as a pirate and deem only one punishment is suitable; death.” Over the pelting rain and thunder, Shank’s yell for you was swallowed and you defeatedly hung your head. Your eyes slid closed as you waiting the swinging of the blades, arcing straight for you. 

Shanks woke sharply, a deep pit of ice twisting painfully in his stomach as his heart thundered loudly in his ears. It was so incredibly rare for Shanks to feel powerless or weak, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nightmare and any that came to mind paled in comparison to what he’d just seen. He’d never allow any harm to come to you, in all the years he’d known you and loved you he’d made sure the Marines and any pirate rivals he had knew nothing about you. Glancing down he saw you sleeping peacefully against his chest. Logic told him you were fine, you were safe. He could feel your warmth and feel your soft breath against his skin but still it couldn’t replace the images of your beaten body about to be put to death. 

Knowing it was irrational and stupid, he couldn’t help himself. Lightly he spoke your name and gently shook your shoulder. Immediately you stirred, a hum of sleep thickened confusion breaking from your lips. Shifting so you were on your stomach you blinked through the haze and looked to Shanks in sleepy concern, knowing he’d never wake you unless it was necessary. “Shanks? What’s wrong?”

“Sorry love, really I am.” Shanks explained softly, letting his fingers gently move in soothing patterns against your skin. Seeing you awake and hearing your voice already doing wonders to dispel the hurt his subconsciousness had created. “Had a bad nightmare. Just needed you.”

Immediately your gaze sharpened enough and you nodded in understanding. It wasn’t often but anytime you had a nightmare and Shanks was there he’d wake and be there with you until you’d calmed. Now it was your turn. 

Slowly you pulled yourself up and inched closer. With a feather-light touch you pushed the stray strands of red hair from his face before caressing his jaw. Leaning in you pressed sweet, caring kisses against his face. You started at his eyes, paying close attention to his scars before moving to his temple, then the bridge of his nose, his cheeks before finally settling your lips against Shanks’ pulling him into a deep, tender kiss, clearing the remnants of his nightmare away. Breaking apart you lay your forehead against Shanks’, smiling when he lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing your wrist, a clear sign he was becoming more like his usual self. “When the crew and I leave this time, you want to come with me?”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall

[helluvagirlboss]

I thought of a very bittersweet prediction of what could maybe happen in S3 (not saying this is what I’m expecting but it’d be cool). What if at some point, Octavia hits her limit living with Stella and she goes rogue, like fully runs away from home (bonus if she has to battle Andrealphus to escape), but Stella and Andrealphus put a bounty on her like “return her alive and you’ll be rewarded with X amount of money”?

So Octavia panics and for a moment she forgets about her resentment towards her dad and her hatred of Blitz and she runs to Blitz’s apartment, scaling the side of the building and prepared to fully barge in through the sliding doors, but when she looks into the doors she sees her dad with Loona and Blitz and he looks…happy.

Maybe the happiest she can ever remember seeing from him. He’s laughing at something Blitz said and Blitz is being flirty and sweet right back. Months ago it would make her sick. But now it just makes her sad. Because if Blitz were just some dickhead…why is it she has never seen her dad laugh that hard and that genuinely?

But the thing that drives a dagger through her heart and when Loona comes up behind him and wraps her arms around him in a hug. Just like she used to.

Did he replace her in more ways than one?

For a moment she feels indignation and anger. But then she remembers what happened that December night, how much Stolas begged her to hear him out and how in her hurt she froze him out, kicking him out of her life. She remembers the last teary look he gave her before she slammed the door on him. On their relationship.

Have a great fucking life with him, she said.

And he did.

It was her own fault this happened. It was her own fault he found happiness elsewhere.

“If you love someone, let them go.”

And so she will.

She climbs down from the balcony and leaves. She’s on her own now, for real this time.

But little does she know that Stolas hasn’t gone a single day without missing her, and that Blitz himself wishes to reunite Stolas and her one day, and that Loona is feeling a weird loss for a sister she never had but always wanted.

So when news breaks to Stolas, Blitz, and Loona that Octavia is on the run and that Stella put a bounty on her head…of COURSE they drop everything to find her and bring her home.

[swordduels]

Circe could feel the most destructive parts of Greed loosen its grip on Regalia. What was left in her beautiful heart were memories together with new wishes free from painful darkness. What had once been drowned in poison started to grow with a tender glow. Former desires of domination had less meaning and attraction now that she started to connect with her newfound humanity. This was an incredible turn of event worthy of praise and more love.

“I’m glad to hear it and I’m so excited to discover new things together with you. I want to spend the rest of my days loving the new you as much as I love your past self.” She smiled happily while inhaling her scent of blossoming lavender. “Your heart is free from poison, love.” This moment of dream and distant memories couldn’t be more soothing. Each scent was filled with experiences from a different life filled with security as well as hardships. Every touch of grass against bare legs came with pictures of a heart warming community that no longer exist. It was a perfect place for them to rest and enjoy the company of each other. They were safe to express feelings of fear or happiness. She could hold her closely and speak clearly without a physical body in the realm of a beautiful fantasy. All of this was Regalia’s creative mind bringing them closer together. There were no walls keeping Circe out anymore. This was now the place of their wedding ceremony to take place before they would start over as a married couple. Circe looked into her eyes with fluttering eyelashes and cherry colored cheeks as Regalia made her wedding vows. It was spoken with a warm honesty that could mop the floor with every other proposal attempt Regalia had ever done before. “Oh, Regalia.” She chuckled softly while leaning to have their foreheads together. “There is no debt to pay because you saved my life as well.” If it wasn’t for Regalia’s bravery she might have been swallowed by the sin of Greed and absorbed into an empty shell of herself. “You better not take another woman but if you do I will demand us to be equally loved.”   

Circe followed her wandering gaze and took part in every memory that followed each sensation. It was a calming atmosphere bringing her to tear up with how empty it would be to leave. Regalia’s temporary hiding place was a far cry from this sunny paradise of warmth and belonging. It would be a brutal awakening after their engagement and wedding in a fantastical landscape with fluttery emotions rising high between them. There was a longing in her to build a similar lifestyle sometime in the future. A beautiful house surrounded by nature. Somewhere close to the coast with a beautiful ocean view. Maybe she could start over with a water sanctuary that would preserve marine animals back to health. 

Circe had a hard time holding herself back from peppering Regalia with tender kisses. But she managed to wait and give room for her to speak up. “Those days lay in the past and it’s about time we move on for a better future.” Someday in a brighter future after solving the problem of Greed they would work out their shared future and patch every hurtful moment into distant memories. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met, with or without the sin of Greed.” After speaking up she couldn’t hold herself back from leaving more butterfly kisses on Regalia’s cheeks and nose. Both hands moved to massage and caress with great care. She couldn’t get enough of touching every inch along Regalia’s back with slow movements while pressing herself closer. “The world can wait, I need you, right now.” Circe whispered against her lips. “Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow.”  She looked at her with warmth glowing in her brown eyes. There was a tremble to her parted lips as she waited for the kiss that would seal their marriage bond. It felt as if she was about to get kissed and make for the very first time. This was their own moment. Away from prying eyes and nefarious schemes. @fallesto

Regalia felt something shift within her, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. The greed, the desire for power, and the need for more wives had been a part of her for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to be content. As she stood there, embracing Circe, she felt the last vestiges of that greed slip away like leaves in a gentle breeze. Her heart swelled with something other than desire—it was love, pure and untainted by the darkness that had once consumed her.

“I’m beginning to feel a bit different now that the darkness is no longer inside me. I’m starting to feel better and feel more like the person I was before I earned that title and the associated power. I’m gradually regaining my clarity of mind.”

Her breathing evened out as she took in the tranquil scene around them. The farm was a picture of peace, and the animals all seemed to look at them with knowing eyes. They had witnessed her transformation, her fall from grace, and now her rebirth. The air was sweet with the scent of apples, and she could hear the distant sound of laughter from the farmhouse. It was a sound that she had longed to hear again, a sound that made her feel like she belonged. Her donkey form, while simple, felt right. It was a stark contrast to the monstrous creature she had become, and it was a reminder of who she truly was deep down.

"Then, right here under this tree, just like it was a thousand years ago when I was happy and had something good, I’ll give you my vow. You're the only person that I want; you're the only one who means something to me. Your love is everything in my life, and you've saved me. I’ll forever be in your debt. I’ll never betray you, and I’ll never be with anyone else, I swear it."

She turned and looked into the distance for her memory. As a donkey, Regalia had been forced to work alongside the farmhands, to till the fields, and to carry the weight of the world—or rather, the weight of the apples—on her back. She had felt the sting of the sun and the ache of her muscles after a long day's labor. But there was something profound in that simplicity, something that had been lost in the grandiose life she had built for herself. There was a sense of respect and camaraderie that she hadn't experienced since, a time when she had truly lived and not just existed in a haze of power and desire.

The farmhands had treated her kindly, despite her being different. They had spoken to her as an equal, sharing their stories and their laughter. They had not feared her, nor had they coveted her. They had seen her for what she was—a creature doing her best to survive. And she, in turn, had learned to respect them, to understand the value of hard work and companionship. It was a stark contrast to the fear and adoration she had been surrounded by in her castle, where everyone either cowered before her or sought to manipulate her for their own ends.

"I cannot undo my past actions, nor can you. We both made mistakes and lost many people, creating a lot of enemies along the way. However, we now have a second chance. While I might not like feeling weak, I realize I am more valuable on my own. I can finally think clearly without the urge to lash out at the world."

As she reflected on her time as a donkey, Regalia felt a strange nostalgia. It was a simpler existence, one where the biggest decisions were about the work that needed to be done and the food that needed to be earned. The bonds she had formed with the other animals and the humans on the farm had been genuine, untainted by the need for power or status. They had all just been creatures living their lives, and she had been one of them. Circe’s arms around her felt like a warm embrace from that past life, and her gentle kisses were like whispers of those lost moments of innocence. Regalia’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she leaned into the witch, feeling the love that had been growing between them become stronger with every passing second. 

“It's you and me against the world.” The warmth of the setting sun painted the sky with a palette of oranges and pinks, casting a soft glow over the couple. The air was filled with the sweet symphony of nature, a stark contrast to the cries of battle and the clanging of swords she had grown so accustomed to. As she rises up and kisses her again. Her kisses were tender and filled with a love that had grown from the depths of their shared experiences, a love that had survived betrayal and anger, and had blossomed into something beautiful. Regalia felt her heart swell with every touch, with every gentle caress of the witch’s hands. It was a feeling she had never truly appreciated before, one that she had been too blinded by power to recognize.

[malk1ns]

january 14 vs kraken, 4-2 loss

i'm tired of this grandpa!!!!

some notes on this one: werewolves, branding, ownership, and a power imbalance that i think everyone is ultimately quite happy with.

It took a great deal of cajoling for Sid to sign off on Zhenya’s return to play for their last game in the homestand. He’d been buzzy and overprotective the entire week Zhenya was out, and add in that the full moon was the night before, the Wolf Moon at that…Zhenya did as much groveling and begging and incentivizing as he could, but he’d honestly expected to sit this one out too. Sid signing the papers allowing Zhenya to play had been a surprise the morning of the game, waiting for him next to the coffee machine when he stumbled downstairs before morning skate.

Zhenya stares at it for a minute, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Written English always takes a while to register when he first wakes up, but he’s just figured out what it is when Sid’s palm closes around the back of his neck.

“If you’re good,” Sid says, shaking him lightly. Zhenya lets his head loll forward, dropping his shoulders down. Sid’s hand on his neck feels amazing, better now than it ever has before. He wants to roll over and show his belly.

“But,” Sid continues, digging his nails warningly into Zhenya’s skin, “if I find out you’re lying about being ready, if you hurt yourself again, I won’t be happy. Alright?”

Zhenya’s right hand moves instinctively to his right wrist, touching the bandaging still wrapped tightly. “Yes,” he says breathlessly, fighting off the lassitude that always comes when Sid scruffs him like this. “It’s good, I’m play.”

“Good boy,” Sid says, shaking him once more before letting go.

It takes Zhenya a while to collect himself before he can start making his coffee for the day.

—

The training staff whisks Zhenya away as soon as they arrive at PPG. Sid doesn’t like it, Zhenya can tell—it’s still so strange, being able to feel what Sid feels—but when it comes to medical stuff he can’t override anyone about Zhenya, so he just frowns after them as Zhenya shoots an apologetic grimace over his shoulder.

He’s marched directly to Vyas’s exam room, sitting quietly on the table as Kevin tugs at his sleeve and unwinds the bandage.

The brand is still shocking to look at. It’s starting to scab over, enough so that Zhenya isn’t worried it will rip off every time he makes a fist, but it’s livid and red over his veins, dark and ugly on his winter-pale skin.

Zhenya loves it.

He’s been begging Sid to brand him for years, ever since Sid took over his contract halfway through the one he signed in 2013 and moved Zhenya in. Sid had been hesitant about the responsibility, but over the summer when he was working out the details of his own new contract something shifted, and when training camp started he told Zhenya he’d do the brand in January.

Zhenya didn’t know why he picked January, and it wasn’t his place to ask. He was just happy Sid decided it was time.

Kevin’s touch as he probes the wound feels wrong, but Zhenya holds still, grimacing when Kevin pats ointment into the scar.

“Looks good, G,” Kevin says, touching Zhenya’s shoulder. “Congrats. I’ll go grab Doc—do you have your form?”

Zhenya nods, fumbling for his wallet as Kevin exits the room, shouting for Dr. Vyas as he half-closes the door behind him.

A few staff members peer in curiously as Zhenya waits, clutching the signed return-to-play form in one hand. Normally he’d wave or make small talk, but he looks down whenever someone pops their head in, turning his arm so the brand isn’t visible.

It’s private. He doesn’t want any random person getting a look at it.

When Vyas enters the room, he at least thinks to shut the door before making his way to Zhenya’s side.

“Geno,” he says warmly, taking Zhenya’s left and and turning it palm-up so he can see Zhenya’s wrist. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you and Sid, I know how long you’ve been waiting for this. And he signed off on you playing tonight?”

“Yes,” Zhenya says, thrusting the form at Vyas. The paper is wrinkled, but the signature is unmistakable. “He gives to me this morning to bring.”

“Mmhm,” Vyas hums, looking the form over. “Okay, good. Gonna have to get used to that, big guy, you’re not gonna be able to so much as get your Toradol without his sign-off now.” He chuckles, setting the paper aside and pulling a stool up. “Alright, let’s take a look. At first glance it seems like you’re good to go, but I just need to confirm. Oh, and you’ll have to take it easy on faceoffs tonight. I’ll tell Mike, but probably only every other one as the scar gets used to the movement again.”

Zhenya nods, but his brain fogs over thinking about Sid having to sign off on his medication for the rest of his life. The haze lasts for his whole exam, and when Vyas slaps his back and sends him on his way, he barely makes it to the lounge without needing to sit down.

—

Zhenya wants to fool around when they get back from morning skate, but Sid insists on going down for their nap early, tucking them together and passing out almost immediately with his hand heavy on Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya takes longer to fall asleep, but eventually he slips under too, lulled to sleep by Sid’s whuffling snores.

Sid rushes them through their pre-game rituals, hustling Zhenya into the car a full 15 minutes earlier than normal and refusing to provide any explanation, even when Zhenya makes big eyes and pouts. They’re not even early, though—the entire team is already there when they arrive, milling around in their base layers and sucking down last-minute protein shakes.

Sid does the rounds while Zhenya sits quietly in his stall. It took a while to remember where he sits now—when Sid told the team he was going to be branding Zhenya sometime this season they moved him over to Sid’s left, and for the first month and a half Zhenya went on autopilot to his old spot. Sid was understanding, but OC, who’s sitting where Zhenya used to, made fun of him every single time.

A few of the guys stop by to say hi, but for the most part they leave him alone, and Zhenya zones out. He doesn’t even tune back in when Sully steps into the room and starts his pre-game pep talk; he’s heard it hundreds of times by now, it’s the same three variations every game.

He snaps back to attention when Sully ends with, “And we have a pretty big milestone tonight. Sid?”

Sid steps to the front of the room, grinning so big his eyes disappear when the whole team bursts out into whoops and catcalls. Karl puts his pinkies in his mouth and whistles piercingly, loud enough that the guys near him wince and slap at him until he stops.

“Thanks, guys,” Sid says, loud enough to be heard over the ruckus, and everyone calms down. “This has been a really big week for me, and I really appreciate everyone who stopped by to check in. It’s something that’s maybe a little overdue—” Kris interrupts him to shout “A little?!”. A bunch of guys break out into laughter, and Sid rolls his eyes. “—thanks, Kris—anyway, it’s been a long time coming, and your support means the world to me and G.” He pauses, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a thin box. Zhenya’s heart almost stops. “So, it’s G’s first game back, which means he gets to wear a collar now. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather share this with then all of you.”

When Sid crosses the room to stand in front of Zhenya, the team bursts into applause.

“Hey, baby,” Sid says quietly, reaching down to card his hand through Zhenya’s hair. “You good?”

Zhenya’s frozen, every muscle tense at the surprise and the focused attention of his entire team. He’d forgotten about the collar, but now that he’s been reminded, he can’t look away.

Sid skates his fingers over the side of Zhenya’s throat, pulling back so quickly that Zhenya leans forward involuntarily with a distraught little sound. Sid laughs, but it’s not mean, and he holds the collar up. “Let me get this on you, sweetheart, you’ll like it. Alright?”

Zhenya nods, but he doesn’t need to—Sid’s already slipping the collar around his neck, buckling it at the front.

Zhenya doesn’t even know what it looks like. It’s dark leather, he registered that much, but he doesn’t know if there’s writing on it, or a design. It doesn’t matter—Sid likes it on him, if the look in his eyes is any indication, and that’s all that Zhenya cares about.

“It’s good?” he asks just to be sure, craning his neck to one side and peering up at Sid through his eyelashes. 

“Looks so good, G,” Sid says huskily, running his finger along the top. “Maybe I should have done this at home after all.”

—

Zhenya feels the weight of the collar all throughout warmups. Turbo yells something at him from across the ice, but he focuses on settling back into his routine, on stretching and puck-handling and always, always watching Sid

He downs half his Gatorade in the room before they line up for puck drop, then stands next the door shifting from skate to skate as everyone falls into their places in line.

He and Sid are last, like always. They both slap Tanger on the shoulders as he makes his way between them out the door, then Sid steps close to Zhenya, grinning up at him as they go through their handshake.

Normally after the chest tap, Sid would turn to leave the room, Zhenya would smack his calf with his stick, and off they’d go. Today, though, Sid shakes his glove off, reaches up, and twists his fingers in Zhenya’s collar, tugging hard at him until Zhenya bends down.

Sid doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t need to. Zhenya knows how he feels, can feel it rising as if they’re his own feelings.

One side of Sid’s mouth quirks up and he lets go, turning to head out.

Zhenya stumbles after him. He doesn’t slap Sid with his stick—he’s afraid any impact would send it clattering to the floor from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

—

Halfway through the first period, Zhenya realizes he forgot to tell Sid that Vyas told him he wasn’t allowed to take all his faceoffs tonight.

The trainers spend more time hovering over Zhenya’s shoulder than normal, and Zhenya tolerates it, pulling his sleeve up when asked so they can check the bandaging. He can feel Sid getting more and more wound up as the period drags on, but he chalks it up to the razzing he’s getting from the Kraken—Zhenya heard Oleksiak yell something about Sid finally getting his hound on a leash earlier.

Zhenya doesn’t care. He’s heard it all over the years. Officials look the other way on wolf-slurs. It used to piss Sid off something crazy, but even he’s able to blow it off more now. Zhenya’s surprised Big Rig is getting him so worked up.

He figures out just how wrong he is when they troop off the ice at first intermission and Sid yanks him so hard into a supply room that Zhenya’s shoulder nearly dislocates.

“Sid,” he complains, but Sid yanks Zhenya’s left glove off and shoves up his sleeve without a word.

He’s boiling mad, and Zhenya wants to cower, wants to pin his ears back and tuck his tail between his legs and whine for forgiveness—except he doesn’t know what exactly he did.

“You promised,” Sid grits out, stroking over the bandage. It’s clean and relatively dry, Zhenya’s pleased to note—he’s been twirling his wrist around when he’s on the bench like Vyas suggested, to help stretch the skin, and it looks like that hasn’t aggravated any bleeding. “You promised me you felt okay, that you were ready to play tonight. Did you lie?”

“No!” Zhenya yelps, yanking his arm from Sid’s grasp. “Sid, I’m say to you it’s fine, like, doctors say it’s fine, why you’re like this?” He’s seesawing between his own rising anger and an instinctive need to cower and make nice, and the extremes are making him queasy.

“You’re not taking your faceoffs,” Sid snaps, taking a step back. The sudden distance leaves Zhenya cold, but he forces himself to stand still. “I’ve been watching. You’re skipping half of them.”

And, oh. Zhenya might be many things; a liar isn’t one of them, but forgetful certainly is.

“It’s part of plan,” he says, slouching his shoulders and shuffling closer to Sid. “I promise, Sid, Vyas says to me this morning, it’s for be safe, take care since it’s first game back. It’s not because I’m hurt, like, try to do to much. I forget to say to you, I’m sorry, but you ask Vyas, he’s tell you it’s true.”

Sid’s quiet for a minute, but Zhenya can feel his anger start to ebb. “You swear?” he finally says, voice softer than before, and Zhenya takes the opening to sidle up to him, pressing their bodies together. “If I really go ask, he’ll tell me exactly what you said, you’re not just making this up to get out of trouble?”

“I swear,” Zhenya says fervently, and he feels it when Sid believes him, practically whimpering at the cool wash of relief.

“Okay,” Sid practically whispers to himself, no more than a breath of sound in the room that Zhenya latches on to regardless. “Okay, okay.”

He reaches up to tug at Zhenya’s collar. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says soothingly. “It’s just…I feel like I have to watch you every second. I didn’t realize how intense this would be.” Sid blows out a breath. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Zhenya’s already forgiven him. He’s embarrassingly, fawningly glad to be back in Sid’s good graces.

He wishes he could change, slink down into his wolf form and wind himself between Sid’s legs and pant at him until Sid laughs and bends down to scritch between his ears.

Unfortunately, they have two more periods of hockey to play.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

A Jealousy of Infighting

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (One Sided)

Length: 19k

Warnings: modern!au, angst/hurt comfort, suggestions of baby trapping, jealousy and possessive issues, pregnancy and talks of pregnancy, mild illness, smut, p in v, breeding kink

Notes: Thank you so, so much for your pateince I am sorry this took so long to come out. But these chapters are so much less common and I wanted to make sure it was worth while. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Jon had yet to figure out what exactly the looks he was getting meant. Some were more curious, as if wondering why he was so consistently there, but others he wasn’t so sure. Or, perhaps he was but would rather not think about either direction that thought could go. He stood off to the side, your jacket draped over his arm as he waited for you, by what he could tell the classes were going well.

Maester Luwin had given you both at your latest appointment an extensive list of classes available to take, and you had to talk Jon out of you taking all of them. He just wanted to be sure, if not for yourself then him. He knew a bit, but he didn’t know the ins and outs of such details of pregnancy in this manner. It didn’t matter as much when he was a bystander on the side, but this was different. He had to know everything he could, so he could be ready for whatever you needed. Regardless of what you told him he didn’t need to do. Muttering in the car after the first class that he didn’t need to feel obligated to come to these things.

But, as Jon stood there now he could only think that there was no where else he’d rather be. He saw a few of the other women’s husbands attending last week that didn’t join this week, and others mentioned a husband he never saw at all. Even the husbands who were there, were silent. Some waiting off to the side on their phones and some only passively paying attention. They were never engaged the way Jon assumed they would be.

That part Jon could not grasp. Why they weren’t interested in learning these things as well.

The subjects all for the first trimester of a pregnancy, it too was a way for Jon to learn exactly how to take care of you. Now as he waited off to the side, not wanting to stand in the way of where everyone else was gathered around the board, Jon could properly compare. Most of the women were noticeably pregnant already, whereas you clearly weren’t. You looked no different to the little over a month prior when he got you pregnant in the first place, your presence in this class was the only proof Jon could see with his own two eyes that it was true.

Perhaps these men were on their second child and felt no need to awe over their wife, or they simply were never in awe in the first place. But Jon couldn’t imagine not looking over at you, your hand raised tapping at your tips with your face slightly scrunched up in thought as you looked over what exercise practice to sign up for. You insisted that you could do all that at the house, but Jon gently turned you by the arms. Guiding you to move over to the board while muttering that it would be good for you to spend a few hours every week with other pregnant women. You had begrudgingly agreed, mostly to make him happy.

Whatever harmony Jon found himself in watching and waiting for you was ruined by the grating voice of one of the men making their way to Jons side. “Don’t worry, bringing you along will lose it’s charm by the third or fourth class.”

Eyes narrowing, Jon turned to face him with no words. Only a question and a tinge of annoyance in his eyes that the man didn’t pick up on. Following his gaze as the man gestured to the group where you were more easily able to be indicated towards as the other women begun to leave. Already Jon felt himself more on edge, the passive way the man already seemed to speak about you as if assuming Jon would ever be the same.

Continuing on he elaborated much to Jons dismay. “Your wife. Eventually dragging you to every class and appointment stops when she realizes you’d much rather be anywhere else.” He didn’t turn to look back at him right away. His hand hidden under your own jacket curling into something tense within its hold as the agitation rose. Why in seven hells wouldn’t he want to be here?

If the man picked that feeling up in Jons expression, he seemed to pretend as if he hadn’t. Looking towards him as if waiting for a laugh of agreement, when rather Jons grey eyes darkened a bit as he slowly peeled them back towards the man, a lower rough tone in his words as he spoke low enough to ensure you didn’t pick up on this conversation. “Why are you here then?” Only responding with a huff of a laugh that it was his second child, and his wife insisted he come to the first few classes just to brush up then he didn’t have to anymore. Jons dark gaze flickered between him and you, only spotting briefly that you stood up on your toes to sign up for something, finally having settled on an activity. “You don’t think you need to know these things?”

Shrugging his shoulders, the man let his hands sink into his pockets. “As long as we can still have sex, I don’t know what I need to learn she doesn’t already know.” Before Jon could even consider retorting back, the man changed topics. As if they stood there, two pals chatting about how much they hated being with their partners. “Your accent’s not from around here. You a Northman?” Jon only nodded, his eyes noticing to the side that you approached and hoped the man would stop talking before you reached him. “Seven hells, more reason to convince her to not make you come anymore. Save you the what? Least an hour drive here and back? Give you more time for whatever you people get into up there.”

That time the man certainly noticed with more of an awkward stammer into silence, that Jon did not laugh with him. Only muttering a hardly polite “Excuse me.” Before brushing passed him as he shifted your jacket, gesturing for you to turn around and let him help you put it on. Asking gently in your ear, “What did you settle on?”

Turning around you fussed with the front, the thought only briefly hitting Jons heart with pride that sooner or later he was going to have to take you to buy new clothes when you started to show. Pushing it back down for now how much he was truly looking forward to that. “Swimming. One of the other women said the water can help when I start to get heavier. Half an hour in the pool, half an hour break then another half an hour in.”

Guiding you towards the door, Jon ignored that the man was giving him a confused look. Wondering why his new so called friend, didn’t care to acknowledge a single thing he had told him. His hand first on your lower back to guide you down the hallway to the front doors, before running up your spine gently and settling on grasping at the fur lining around your jacket’s collar just under the back of your neck. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in the water in years.” Responding back playfully that there weren’t an abundance of pools or lakes around Winterfell right now that weren’t freezing, Jon chuckled deeply. “Arya and Bran used to beg my father to at least get an above ground pool, but he knew better. Would cost him more to clean up the water they’d purposely get everywhere then the pool itself.”

Guiding you through the parking lot, he without thinking opened your door for you first before you turned to him, grasping at the top of the car door with a curiosity in your eyes. “Did you make any friends? I saw you chatting with Lena’s husband.” Jon only grunted as his face fell unamused, not even bothering to answer beyond that before closing the door for you once you got inside. Circling around to get in himself as you continued, a little more confused. “I’m sorry, I thought-” Cutting yourself off, Jon paused after clicking his seatbelt into place watching you turn away with your confusion now melting into a guilt which your skills did not include being good at hiding from him. “If you want to keep coming, I was hoping you’d get along with one of the husbands, give you something to do, someone to talk to every week.”

Jon turned in his seat, the thought crossing his mind that perhaps he was not the only one getting talks about how normal it appeared to be for the men to suddenly drop off of coming the longer the classes went on, and how much you were hiding that you didn’t want that. Saying your name firmly, his arm came up partially to rest along the back of your seat to implore you to look at him. Which you only partially did with an apprehension. “I’m here for you and the baby, not to just stand around and wait for you to be done every week.” Biting your lip, Jons expression shifted softer, his posture easing up in tenseness. “Hey,” his hand moved, turning you by the cheek to look at him. “I told you, as long as I can come, I will. I can’t take care of you if I don’t learn this stuff too.”

He knew you were about to say he didn’t have too, instead choosing to interrupt such a thought process by ever so gently capturing your lips with his. Feeling you melt into him right away, he couldn’t imagine not caring enough about you and the baby. Pulling away, he ran his nose down the length of yours before you merely nodded. Understanding that you had nothing else to argue at that moment against the idea.

As he drove you both home, Jon in that comfortable silence could let his mind drift. Both classes, comments were made to him akin to asking were he dragged there. He knew those men weren’t even paying attention with that question. If they had, they’d know how often Jon spoke up. Glancing to you with your eyes squinting in thought as he translated within his mind what you were wondering, then would ask for you. If Jon were not so sure his memory was as reliable as it was, he’d have taken notes just to ensure he didn’t forget. But he knew he could commit this to memory, it if had anything remotely to do with you, or anything even remotely to do with the baby, Jon was all over it.

Jon wasn’t the one most in his family would think was to be ready so quickly for a baby, but yet they all watched as he was the most comfortable with it all. Almost gently guiding you into being comfortable with the idea still, but he knew it was the lingering trails of doubt from before. The terrifying fear that he didn’t want this, that your minor miscommunication meant that nothing of his joy the night he found out was real or would stay. Jon may take all of this seriously, but he never wanted that to diminish the image of how happy he was.

It had only been a few weeks since you both moved into the house, and it turned out to be as good for you as it was bothersome. If Jon wasn’t the one doting on you, his brothers or father were, or his sisters were glued to your side with questions and suggestions or merely fantasizing ideas about what to do when the baby was born. It was what he wanted, people around you. Never leaving you alone if he could help it, and someone there to take care of you when things started to get more difficult. You didn’t see the use in it now, but considering when you had arrived to the class last week, down the hall Jon had spotted women leaving a separate class whom all were very pregnant, likely close to a due date by his estimation. He knew thats what he was preparing you for. You were quick and capable now, but soon you wouldn’t be and Jon didn’t want you facing that on your own.

Especially since you had not heard a word from your family since the night he and Margaery smuggled Shireen out to see you. And Jon knew exactly who to blame for your families callous silence. He didn’t say it to you, not wishing to put you in that position, but it made Jon impossibly angry that your father was no doubt the reason you were so isolated from any of your family celebrating this as the Starks all were. They should be happy, their daughter was having a baby, they were to have a grandchild, and yet? No word.

If Jons eyes were to glance over at you as he drove you both back home, he knew he’d find himself distracted too much. A soft gaze towards you, warm in nature as you sat where you had for so many trips, drives, and everything in between in his passenger seat and yet now it was different. There was a third party sitting with you and it was something which you both created together. It was something which everyone should be happy about, but they weren’t. And Jon didn’t yet know what to do about it, if he could indeed, do anything.

Your parents, or more rather, your father, was someone far above Jons pay grade to confront. Even worse, you were a Baratheon. A girl from a highborn prestigious family. Were this in ancient times, you’d have been raised and saved to pass your hand off in marriage to a suitable highborn son. It wasn’t that way now, but in truth, parts of that tradition hadn’t disappeared completely. Jons surname was still Snow. He was still a bastard, and he had gotten you pregnant only a few months into dating you. If you being unmarried and pregnant was an offence, then it was even grander bordering on an insult that the one who got you pregnant was a bastard.

Raised with his family, the Starks one of the oldest families in Westeros and highborn, but Jon technically wasn’t. He was a bastard, he had no rights to anything were inheritance still of vast importance. And no matter how much his father, his brothers and sisters, and those of the North didn’t look down on him, that did not mean that those in the south would follow suit.

He would be seen as unworthy, which boggled the mind. He had wanted nothing more then to have a child with you, and the idea of watching you have this with someone else left an ill feeling deep within Jons stomach. A heavy weight of a life he wished not to linger on for too long. Instead, he told himself not to glance at you, merely to stay paying attention to the road, knowing you would transfix his gaze should he look at you too long.

As he begun pulling onto the road which led to the main Stark property, Jon always enjoyed the sight. The lands were vast and somewhat empty until reaching the wolfswood not to far away on one side and the rolling hills on the other. With the seasons lasting in such strange, unpredictable amounts, Jon could count himself lucky that he was able to enjoy the golden hue splashing across the lush surroundings as thankfully, this had turned out not to be a short autumn.

The leaves always in a state of changing colours and teetering on falling, but all knew that they would remain that way until winter was ready to crawl in. Only with the first cold winds did the leaves fall and autumn signalled itself as over. For now, Jon could enjoy the sight. While you could still walk easily, and it was very early, he wondered how up to a smaller hike you’d be. Nothing strenuous, but he wanted you out in the wilderness he knew you both loved before it was too late and it would be who knew how long before you’d see it again.

With the weekend having come by, it was impossible to say where everyone would be by the time you both got in. His siblings always scattered one way or another, but he hoped it would be quiet enough he could get you into the kitchen without fuss. You had barley ate that morning, not that Jon blamed you.

He had felt you stir very early, earlier then you would’ve normally gotten up. The slightest movements from you in his arms could pull Jon awake with ease, and the second he felt you suddenly move his eyes begun to open. Two things hit two senses, first the brightness of the bathroom light being flickered on in the corner opposite where his bed was. His eyes still squinting with sleep as he begun to sit up, only for sound to hit his ears as the second sense and swiftly did he all but jump out of bed. As it someone had dunked him into a vat of ice water to slam all of his senses into overdrive at once.

Before he had known it, he was knelt down beside you as you threw up. He should’ve expected this would start, kicking himself for not being more prepared already. First his hands reached up, gently gathering your hair and pulling it behind you, luckily nothing had gotten stained with your sickness yet as he used the band around his own wrist for when he’d occasionally pull his curls back, and tied the long strands up to stay out of your way. His free hand once done, ran soothingly up and down your back as the final of it all seemed to come up.

Shushing you gently, Jon had tried to coax you into relaxing as he felt your muscles tense under his touch, but you seemed to only tense up more. You must have been so overwhelmed you scarcely noticed Jon was by your side until that moment, and something uncomfortable hit you rather then anything reaching out for him. All of the evidence of your sickness washing away, you had suddenly pushed up out of Jons touch. Walking over to the counter to fill your glass with tap water.

Flushing out what remained before you grabbed for your toothbrush to clean out the rest, Jon had walked back over to you. Again he reached out, that time running up your spine before inspecting his work at your hair and deciding that wasn’t anywhere near good enough. Pulling it all out, you paused mid motion to glance at him in the mirror before you saw him parting your now loose again hair into three sections, relaxing more knowing he was simply going to braid it this time.

His work finishing in time for you to wash the rest of the toothpaste out itself, his hands ran down your upper arms, hoping as he stepped closer his chest pressing against your back that his warmth provided more comfort. Your hands as everything was returned to their proper place, hung at the edge of the counter, nails mindlessly tapping at the surface. Your voice was understandably a bit more rough as you spoke as quiet as you could, “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Jon shook his head, knowing as he looked down over your shoulder at you, that your eyes were trained upward to watch him back but in the reflection of the mirror. Pressing his lips gentle to the side of your head before leaning against the spot. “Not your fault, darling. It’s normal.”

But, it was what you said next that took him off guard that morning. “I normally wake up with enough time to shut the door behind me, so you don’t get woken up by all of it.” His brows furrowed as he looked down over your shoulder more, something more stern and a bit serious filling the spaces where a gentle softness last sat, asking what you meant by that. You however, explained it both casually and yet nervously, only seen by how you begun to toy with your fingertips and nails. “It started a few nights ago. I’ve been trying to handle it without waking you up.”

Short but stern, Jon asked “Why?” But you only shrugged. Sighing deeply, Jon let his hands on your arms drift down to reach around your body. Grasping at your hands to stop the motion before tucking them against your front as he used the leverage to pull your back closer to his chest. His gaze still on what of your face he could see looking down instead of trying to meet your gaze in the mirror, knowing you’d simply try and avoid him anyways. “You should’ve told me. Why would I want you to go through this part alone?”

The answer was almost sweet in how innocent and simple it sounded, and yet tore at part of Jons heart. A side of you he had almost healed out, but still poked it’s unwelcome head every now and again reminding him of where you came from before this relationship. “I-” Your nerves grew in the mere second passing that you hesitated, speaking slow and clearly as if misconstruing what you were to mean would somehow get you into trouble. “It’s gross and unpleasant, and I don’t need to bother you to get through it, is all.” Muttering with a little confusion that it wouldn’t bother him, you muttered as insecurity now bled into your expression as well. “Maybe it should is all I’m saying.”

Sighing deeply, Jon only pulled away from you long enough to turn you in his arms. Settling you gently back against the counter before his face scrunched up in thought. Changing his mind, Jon merely used his strength to pick you up and sit you on the surface instead, your legs parting enough for his frame to come close as he cupped your cheeks.

There it had been, that insecurity without any hiding or filter to lessen it. He sighed again, turning your head downwards so he could press a kiss to your forehead. Making you meet his eyes again as his thumbs ran over the soft skin of your cheeks, your own hands gently grasping at the top edge of his sweatpants. No intention with it, merely incidental with how it could’ve looked to others. Jons voice was barley a mutter, only for you to hear. “Do you even need to me to say it?” Biting your lip before shaking your head, you opened your mouth to speak but Jon cut you off beforehand. Pressing a gentle, but lingering kiss to your lips, only pulling away enough to brush against your soft lips with every word. “Don’t apologize. And don’t be afraid to wake me up next time.”

It was too early for any lecture, and he didn’t want to rub salt in the insecure wound more then necessary. It would take time to ease you into allowing him into the more unpleasant aspects of this process, and even more time then to get it to sink into your beautiful, yet stubborn head that Jon was not put off at all by any second of it. Instead he waited for you to nod, pressing one more kiss to your lips before muttering that you had a few more hours to sleep before needing to get up.

Even now as Jon pulled into the driveway hours later, he could still recall how easily you went with him and all but curled your front into his chest, as opposed to returning to the position before. Having turned around in your sleep, so your back was once more at his chest, instead, Jon had wrapped his arms warm and safe around you. Hoping the action could fill in at least some of the blanks that there wasn’t going to be a part of this process which he’d wish to turn away from.

Which included being there for your classes of course.

Naturally, were Jon to have his way he’d keep you in the car and circle around to help you out as he helped you in, but you were still speedy at your early stage and unchanged size. A wave of something exhilarating rushed through his blood in the cool air at the thought of what you were truly going to look like when you started to show. His beautiful, pregnant girl..it was a baby he had wanted with you, but until that moment it was as if it never hit Jon that he’d get the rest of it too, He’d get to be with you every single stage of your pregnancy. And certainly too as Jon circled around to guide you by a hand on your lower back, that the instructor that day had informed all of you that through every stage of pregnancy, sex was perfectly safe.

It was still the morning and no doubt his family was inside the house, he couldn’t think about that now.

Opening the door, you both could hear sounds of the television in as you took your coats and boots off, voices scattered somewhat on the second floor but luckily none from what he could determine in the kitchen. Muttering in your ear, “Let me make you something.” It was cute to him, how you instantly looked up at him in a defiance that you could do it, but he only pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know, I’m still making you something anyways.” Before grabbing you by your arms and turning you in place to walk into the kitchen.

Well, someone was in there sitting at the smaller table, but lucky for Jon it was only his father. Glancing up from whatever he had been reading on his tablet, his eyes glanced over you both with a curiosity. “How did it go?”

Jon prompted you to sit down across from Ned, barley muttering once more that he’d handle everything. Hearing both voices behind him as he begun rooting through the kitchen with little thought on what to make. In truth, Jon had learned what you liked and didn’t look meal wise so long ago he could come up with something in his sleep that you’d like. “A little better this time. They started to go into detail finally, I assume the first session was more of an introductory overview.”

Functioning as your server almost, Jon didn’t catch the small glint in his fathers eye as he sat a glass down in front of you to drink without even saying a word, you barley having the time to thank him before he was back at the counter. Hearing his father turn his attention back to you. “I remember going to those with Cat. Information is likely better now then it was decades ago.” A huff of a laugh came from you before he continued. “They also suggested she sign up for other activities to do with the other women, they offer you the same?”

Unbeknownst to either of them, to you it was almost sweet. How Ned now was prying in a subtle way as to not come off as prying. Trying to determine whether or not this was the suitable class for you, knowing that if it wasn’t, neither of them would hesitate to seek out something better. As if the fatherly instinct turned on for both, Jon for the baby, and Ned for yourself. Sipping the juice given to you by Jon, you put the glass down with a nod. “Swimming. One of the women, this is her second child and she told me that being in the water in the later months can help take the pressure off. Just another thing to look forward too.”

You had only muttered it, but Jon knew his father caught it was he did, your lower and less savoury tone. A chuckle left the man, “Aye, I know that look. Seen Cat go through it more times then I can count, it doesn’t last long. A few months at best.” Jon couldn’t help but let out a small smirk to himself as he heard you huff. Barley glancing behind his shoulder to see that you had let your head fall into your hands, elbows propping it all up on the table, something muttered under your breath. While on didn’t catch it as it was too muffled, he could imagine the dismay felt knowing how long it was going to last, and while not that you would say it, Jon knew too you were aware it meant Jon would fuss over you for months about this.

He was over prepared, he had made it through all of the books faster then you had. Nearly memorizing everything he could, and going back to write down the rest. Even down to the food, while it cooked, already Jon made his way to the cabinet he kept your new prenatal vitamins in, setting them in a tiny glass bowl to sit at the side of your plate knowing you always needed food in you when taking them. You hadn’t felt great when taking them and skipped a meal, though that was on a day that Jon wasn’t there.

Whenever he was there he ensured you were taken care of. He knew it could be overbearing, he knew to some this may constitute as babying you, but he couldn’t help it. You were carrying his child, a child you both had created together. Something that bound you both together for the rest of your lives. It made Jon as joyful as it did worried. He’d been thinking that way more and more, hearing an echo of Robbs voice accusing him of essentially baby trapping you. Whenever that possessive feeling kicked in, too did a rising anger in his blood. That accusation that he would ever do something like that to you, take your choice away, your freedom.

Robb had never even come close to saying anything like that again, in fact, it seemed he was trying to rectify it. But Jon didn’t really care. He was still on edge, hearing biting words from the brother he trusted most, the one person who had been there for him his whole life. Maybe Robb was right in a way, maybe deep down a sick and twisted part of Jon that he had no idea where it could’ve come from did want to do that to you, but he didn’t. And Robb should’ve trusted him more to know that.

Having missed over half the conversation you had with his father, Jon only put a smaller amount on a plate for him before turning a bit. Head gesturing down to the counter with an ask if he wanted any, only to get a shake of his head in a grateful no. Luckily, you knew the routine by now. Now questioning the amount he plated for you by the time he sat down. Jon knew in time you’d only need to increase how much you ate based on how much the baby was growing, and part of Jon smiled to himself knowing he’d have a stubborn battle with you in the coming months over that fact.

The other day you had tried to bite back, playfully of course. He had quite a few very early shifts, so early he suspected you benefited from it by being able to hide your morning sickness because he’d be gone by the time it happened. So it had been the first time he could sit and have breakfast with you in days. You had been picking at the remainder of your food when Jon prompted you to finish, you had done so, but not before pausing when about to take a bite with a raised brow. “You know Robb doesn’t hound me like this when we have meals.”

You meant it as a joke, of course you did. Jon wasn’t sure if you took his response just as much of a joke, but he had moreso only grunted and muttered, “That’s because Robb is too nice about how stubborn you are.” It was the easiest path, his own dig at Robb while covering it up as if teasing you. It was incredibly petty and he felt bad for it, but Jon was the last one to let go what happened that night in the driveway, and didn’t know how he’d get passed it anytime soon.

The last he saw you, his sisters were occupying you very well.

Jon needed to finish some reports that he hadn’t gotten too. The perk of the more tedious aspects of his job, was that he could do much of it here. Jon could go in, put extra hours into the hands on parts of his job and make up for the time needed for reports by doing them here, so that he could either have you in the room, or pause and go check on you anyways. Some night when he couldn’t sleep, he’d gently get out of bed, usually prompting the now waking up Ghost to hop up onto the bed next to you, so you didn’t feel alone even in your sleep.

The room only lit by the glow of his computer as he’d type away, he’d pause and look over at you. Tucked comfortably underneath his blanket, in his bed, not even the one he first slept with you in, it was even better. The bed he spent years drifting away at night knowing he was falling in love with you. The bed that his teenage self guiltily spent many nights getting off to the wonder of what being with you would be like.

That was where his filthy habit came from. His teenage mind in love with his best friend, not knowing what else to do. He’d get up, plug his headphones in and start searching. No one was good enough to look like you. The hair was too long, too short, not the right shade, the face not close enough, their voice so loud and obnoxious that he now knew was nowhere close to how you sounded. Some nights he’d give up, some nights he would deny deny deny that it was you he was still trying to imagine when he did.

Now though? Now it was different, and yet it only had been for months. He could barley still comprehend how recent it was that he finally found the bravery to kiss you, and everything after? And how now you were downstairs in his main home, his sisters pestering you about becoming aunts? Sometimes Jon felt as if he would wake up and be once more thrown back into the world before any of this. He’d be back in the apartment, and you’d still be with Karl Tanner or Ramsey Bolton and he’d just be waiting to see when they would hurt you and step in hopefully before it was too late.

He never expected to wait for you to feel something for him. He had long since assumed you didn’t. But as blindly rageful he was hearing what Ramsey spilled out about you just to humiliate you, there was something Jon couldn’t deny. He didn’t have to wait for feelings that would never come, they were already here. Yet he could hear as he descended the stairs, your voice but no longer his sisters the ones you were talking too.

It was petty, jealous perhaps the word was? But before he’d be seen coming down the steps, Jon stopped. His eyes narrowing as he listened to the familiar voice talking low to you, not to hide secrets, but that calm tone Robb always used with you that Jon’s darker insides had come to despise.

“I already said I would, there’s nothing left to debate.” Jon could hear a huff come from you, not of annoyance but something more playful. Not able to hear your response, Jon barley took another step down as he leaned more to the banister trying to hear, and feeling rather childish for doing so. Instead he only heard Robb first, “Its not out of my way, no one is thinking that but you.”

Straining he could just barley hear you, your voice sounding not too far from wherever Robb was. “I mean I could reasonably walk there now, but...” Trailing off, Robb only mentioned that it wouldn’t be so easy later on. Jon presumed you nodded before continuing, somewhat along a different train of thought. “I don’t know how I’m going to stand it. Feeling like I will be completely useless. Already I worry I’m not contributing enough to be here.”

As it turned out, Robbs answer was the exact same as the thought which instantly had come into Jons head at that exact moment. “You’re contributing to the family by having a baby. I’ve seen my mother go through four, I know how difficult it will get. You don’t have to do anything to prove something to be here. Got it?” Robb had paused before his final ask, Jon suspecting he had to turn your head to look at him properly, and he knew you must have nodded a silent yes.

Coming down the steps finally, your heads turned to look at him, neither of you acting as if there was anything to hide. Not that Jon would ever put that on you, but his eyes darted sharply to look at Robb for the briefest of moments. Both of you were on the longer couch, you were sat facing him with your knees more pulled towards your chest as you rested more against the back armrest, with Robb sat somewhat sideways with his feet on the floor but his arm stretched along the back of the couch where if he so chose, could reach out and brush his hand against your arm. He didn’t move, thinking nothing was wrong and yet Jon forced himself to swallow that feeling, trying to sound normal. “What were you two gossiping about?”

You answered for him. “Robb was asking me what the schedule for my classes and appointments look like and some of them are on the days you couldn’t take off. He was just offering to drive me,” You turned your head to Robb with a playfulness and a raise of an eyebrow. “Despite me saying I am perfectly capable of walking.”

Both brothers chuckled at you, Jon coming up behind the couch and circling around to where he leaned down to murmur loud enough for both of you to hear. “You can, until you need help even putting your shoes on or getting up from the couch.” Pressing a kiss to the top of your head before you even had a chance to register how he was mocking you, a grin on his face as he finished his moving. Picking your legs up without a second thought, and for you draped your thighs over his lap as one of his hands innocently stroked your calf through the comfortable leggings you had worn.

His eyes only flickered to the side for a moment, looking to see Robbs arm moved and now he leaned more against the other side of the arm of the couch matching more of your posture but away from Jon. You didn’t notice the shift in the air and if Robb did, he said nothing of it. Jon knew he was being territorial for no reason but the burning in his blood spoke that he could not help himself. Robb continued as normal, adding to his brothers mocking without the hangup of wanting to glare at him. “You remember how much my mother needed help when she was pregnant with Rickon, you really think you’re going to be around all of us like that and we won’t help you?”

Opening and closing your mouth as you no doubt lost the argument, you crossed your arms over your chest. One foot reaching just slightly out enough to playfully kick at one of Robbs legs, and pulling them back up quickly as Jon almost pulled your legs and feet closer towards him to protect you from retaliation, even though you struck first. “I’m pregnant you know, not an invalid.” Both for a moment, forgot any tension with a bemused glance before looking towards you once more. Something insulted in you huffing again as you knew you could not escape Jons grasp. Merely muttering to yourself, “The novelty will wear off eventually.”

Jon watched you with a playful smirk but soft eyes, how little you knew that was untrue. This wasn’t a novelty. This was something he never thought he would have and yet? Part of him felt that pride too, that it was his child you were having, not the brother next to him which he wondered if Robb had ever thought of.

He could only imagine what Robb was really thinking when you told him, his unwarranted suspicion of Jon aside, what hurt did he feel? What loss of a woman he now never would have? Did that feel good to Jon, having that over his brother the way he claimed? Well, if Jon refused to think deeply on it, that was what he could simply tell himself as much as he wanted. That it didn’t matter what Robb thought, this was the way it was now.

Glancing around, Jon changed topics. “Where are the girls?” Robb mentioned they had disappeared into the basement whispering after talking to you about maternity clothes and Jon raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Sighing with a bit of a laugh, he let go and his head dropped a bit back. “Well, at least they’ve finally found something to bond over.”

At least they were more mature now then they were years ago. Jon could still recall when they were both immature and young. Something of Arya’s would go missing and she’d storm into Sansa’s room accusing her and they’d squabble until it turned into a petty fight which would need to be broken up. Typically by either Jon, Robb, or their father wandering in and all but picking Arya up and either turning to wish a playful push to get out of the room, or sometimes just carrying her until she could be dumped on her bed like she weighed nothing. Now at least they were bonding over the baby, there wasn’t going to be much they could argue about in that respect just yet.

Muttering quietly that you needed to use the restroom, you pushed yourself up to move before glancing at Jon still keeping your legs effectively trapped. Raising an eyebrow with a bemused look, your tone flat as could be. “Am I still allowed to do that part by myself?” Jon had barley opened his mouth, but you read his eyes like words in a book and shook your head. More forcefully snatching your feet back to you before climbing off the couch away from him. “Don’t answer that.”

Both brothers watched as you disappeared down the hall, and suddenly the silence was staggering. They hadn’t spoken much. Robb would talk generally to Jon when others were around or even just you around, but by themselves they had hardly spoken since that night. Robb knew he made a mistake that Jon would take harshly, and it showed. The tension sat right on Jons face, his jaw clenched and his hands almost unable to stop fidgeting from a tense awkwardness. Robb however, made the attempts more then Jon did to try and mend that wound. His voice calm without any hesitation with a light playfulness in it as he spoke. “You’d think after over a decade she’d be used to this.”

Jon nodded, somewhat. Not very meaningfully and with a scowl still clear across his features. Running a hand over his mouth as he shifted trying to look as if he was sitting more comfortably. He needed to say it, and part of him wanted too but that part too fought with another part of him which said that he shouldn’t thank his enemy. Which was stupid, he knew. Robb was his brother, not his enemy. And yet...look where his brain had led him at least in verbiage. “Thanks. For offering to drive her. I wasn’t sure what I was going to-”

Robb only cut him off, it seemingly to spare him mercy in how awkwardly his strained tone sounded. “It was the least I can do. The only person I have to answer to is father, and if I wasn’t going to drive her then he would’ve done it himself.” Jons face turned downward not to look, not wanting to showcase how uncomfortable he felt and yet still both of them chuckled deeply.

Jons head rising up as he again ran a hand over his face, noting in the back of his mind his facial hair needed a slight trim before it got too long. “Aye, he would’ve done that.” It was not as if Jon was an expert conversationalist, but he knew this was painfully obvious. Trying to string together a series of words to form into a sentence which did not begin with a warning to stay away from you. “I know the amount seems excessive,” Your name coming off his lips, “I know she thinks so.”

Robb however, didn’t hold the same awkwardness. “She thinks living in the house is her getting in the way, it think it would be safe to assume she doesn’t really know what’s good for her.”

A tick in his jaw came out, something knowing what that could mean as well. And who would be better for her then the highborn brother whose always gotten everything handed to him. Eyes sealing shut he needed to stop, but he couldn’t help it. He was supposed to try and get along with Robb, if just for you and yet the second you weren’t there to remind him you were his, something in Jon latched right back into the truth of what he knew.

You being pregnant did not diminish Robb’s feelings and that aggravated Jon to no end.

“Jon.” Turning to look at him, he could say he didn’t expect it nor want what Robb was going to say. “I know things haven’t been okay since that night-”

Shaking his head, Jon pushed himself upwards to his feet. He did not want to have this talk now, you’d come back any moment and even if you didn’t, Jon wanted to stay angry. Robb might have been trying to make amends, but he was still rather close and touchy with you. Jons girl, the one Robb had feelings for, the one he’d swoop off your feet if given the chance were Jon to screw up again. He’d never be free of his stupid mistakes one week months ago and Robb was now a vulture hanging around what was not yet even the decay of Jons relationship with you to pick at the remains once the time came.

Calling his name, Jon only moved down towards the hall you disappeared into. A mutter only loud enough for Robb to hear and hopefully none else nearby or listening in. “Save it.”

If Jon heard Robb sigh deep and frustrated, he pretended otherwise. Instead finding himself looking at the restroom door open and light off, you hadn’t returned. But you weren’t hiding nearby with prying ears, you disappeared completely. Brows furrowing, Jon begun his search. The main floor of the house the biggest space aside from the actual outside of the property but found empty room after empty room. His eyes glanced to the outside, not seeing any sigh you were out there until he heard a slight low grumble from the study nearby. The door was mostly closed save for a tiny crack, Jon pushed it open.

The glow dim from only a single lamp nearby, sat on the side table next to the couch. It was that sight which finally made Jon smile. You were sat down, surrounded by three wolves. Greywind lay by your feet, or actually, on your feet. Something the direwolf did a lot to force you not to stand up so he could sleep by you undisturbed. One one side of the couch lay Nymeria, her head in your lap already fast asleep. One of your hands running gently over her ears as on occasion she’d shift to shuffle closer to your touch. On the other side of you curled up into a ball facing you was Ghost, just enough space left for Jon to sit as if the wolf knew.

You glanced up at him with a very amused expression and a pretend of exasperation. “I’m surrounded by wolves no matter where I go.”

Chuckling, Jons head dropped for a moment of that laughter until looking back up at you with wide and bright eyes and a smile forming. His voice low and soothing as if not to disrupt the peace. “You’re one of the pack now.” Making his way over, Jon barley needed to look where he stepped to climb around Greywind’s frame to expertly position himself on the couch next to you. Without even waking really, Ghost spared no time in moving to rest his head on Jons lap as Nymeria was on yours. Both of Jons hands running over Ghost’s fur and playing with his ears as a whining grumble of content came from him, matching close to the sound no doubt that caught his attention when it was Nymeria who made it. Looking at him with a questioning gaze, asking what he meant, but Jon just smiled down at Ghost before looking at you. “You’re one of us now, and they know it. Which means they’ll protect you as much as we all will.”

You didn’t say anything. A softness in your eyes that too softened Jons to follow, a thankfulness in them that didn’t get followed up with words you were ready for yet. Instead, you only shifted enough to rest your head more against his shoulder.

With wind blowing against the glass, light from the moon half hidden by the curtains and crackle of a small fire Jon knew his father must have left on by mistake, it only added to the feeling. A calm after he had walked away in anger. You were one of them now, but the pack wasn’t just one. You were Jons, carrying his child, and it was you both with the future together. And that calm only reminded him further that your future lay with him, not Robb.

No matter how much his brother might pretend he felt otherwise.

Jon wished he could better convey how little he was in the mood to be hounded about this at that moment. His eyes starting to strain from staring at the screen of his computer for so long, he was close to finishing his report and would’ve much rather avoided the attention he was about to get. They meant well, they were his friends, but it didn’t mean it didn’t aggravate him. He had wanted to finish his report, then go outside to call you, see how you were feeling when shadows hovered over his desk.

Trying to ignore it, he could hear Grenn one of the figures behind him trying to simply catch his attention. “Jon.” Muttering a what, he didn’t stop typing nor turn around until an arm reached over to sit on top of his desk before his keyboard. Glancing down at it, it was a smallish box. No bigger then perhaps the size of an apple. Nothing about it stood out save for the well tied ribbon around each side of it coming together to seal it off without much fuss. That had Jon turn around somewhat, raising an eyebrow with a confused expression to follow in a silent ask of what this was.

Sam, Grenn, and Pyp all stood by. Pyp circling around the rest to sit atop the empty edge of Jons desk, as Sam sat in his next to him and Grenn hovering with a hand over Jons chair. Pyp held the enthusiasm. “Well go on, open it.”

Jon said nothing, only glancing between them and then to Sam who gave little away. Slowly pulling the ribbon lose, and opening the box. Tissue paper sat to hide what was inside, pulling it away sat something that took him off guard. So far while his mates were happy for him, a lot of it had been teasing and jokes. Nothing serious. But as he pulled it out, it looked like a smallish toy. Almost like a charm bracelet but large for an infant to hold safely and play with. Made of a smooth wood, sturdy non moving charms hung from little spots all around it. A swap between a small wolf head, a stags head and antlers, and what seemed to be one he didn’t understand.

A small snow globe with indents in the carving to look as if inside was just falling snow on a wooden landscape. His eyes couldn’t quite take off of it, until he heard Sam explain from beside. “It’s for the baby, whenever they’re born. Pyp and I wanted to do something to celebrate, and thats what we came up, and Grenn carved it.” Jons eyes softened a bit but hadn’t stopped looking at it yet. Sam leaned forward pointing to the specific choices of charm throughout. “The direwolf were the symbols of the Starks when a highborn house was structured differently, and the stags head for a Baratheon.” Jon tapped gently at the last one.

Sensing the glances between it seemed they were suddenly not confident in what they had done. Pyp took the reigns on it. “The baby will be both, but we also figured that they should remember their own name. Snow.” Jon glanced up to him, an unreadable expression on his face as Pyp looked a bit bashful. “Took us a while to come up with what could symbolize Snow. Its safe for the baby and everything, the way it’s made. Even if they stick parts of it in their mouth like my nephew always did, it’s safe.” Pointing to the charms to make his point.

Jon nodded, “How long did this take?” Grenn said that once Sam and Pyp came to him with the idea it was easy to make. He and Jon had long since took up wood carving as a hobby for when they were north of the Wall and there was little to do once night hit and they were only able to make camp in the Haunted Forest. Nodding, he suspected they were expecting this sort of quiet reaction from Jon. Not a man typical to make grand gestures towards people especially with all of his co workers all there to potentially witness it. His voice however, gave off something strained. A clearing of his throat that spoke to more emotion winding up in his throat then he was wanting to give the impression of. “Thank you, all you of you. Really.”

Glancing to the lot of them, Pyp nodded with Grenn as Sam spoke sheepishly. “Everyone else here’s been having a go at you, so we thought we could do something to show we actually are happy for you.” Pyp adding with a jest, that they too all hoped it would help Jon decide who the godfather was going to be. Jon didn’t need to say outloud for them to know that he wasn’t going to put up with that debate for the fourth time these past short weeks. His flat falling expression conveyed that already quite clearly.

Patting his shoulder on the back, Grenn glanced to Pyp. “Come on, leave him to his work.” Getting up to follow, Sam at least followed the idea and turned to sit more at his own desk next to him, settling in while glancing at Jon still looking it over before he put it back in the box.

Gently opening the top drawer, he sat it inside with his collection of photos. Sitting it there only for the day, fully intending to bring it home. He could only imagine the look on your face when he showed it to you. In a small box in the side of your room together, sat some of the things for the baby that was too early to have a place for yet.

His younger sibling had went to the storage in the attic and sorted through all of their baby things to find ones of their own they wanted to pass down to the new baby. Toys from when Bran and Rickon were babies, a simple but small stuffed bear that Jon recalled Arya as a newborn being incredibly attached too, and a soft blanket that Jon recognized as Sansa’s favourite when she too was a newborn. Some of their favourites as a baby or toddler and they had wanted to pass them on. It meant the world to Jon, it really did. So instead of storing them away, he found a decorative box to sit on the floor where eventually he knew a cradle would fit perfectly. The wolf plush sat in with it, and now he knew he could add this charm toy along with it.

It was odd, in their own way the baby was bringing people together and yet in other ways it did the opposite. It drove Jon away from Robb, and it drove your family away from you. As much as it unified people on one side, the further did others get. Jon could glance now at the calendar on his desktop, his schedule all filled out and seeing the days you had classes that he wouldn’t be there for. If he hated himself more, he’d fill out the rest of it by specifying that Robb was taking you. Only to keep track of things, and yet with a deep sigh through his nose Jon let his mouse click over those days and type it in.

Jaw clenched as he did so. He didn’t want his brother thinking that this would be normal, that he’d be involved in your pregnancy the way Jon was to any close degree. You weren’t his, and neither was the baby in your belly. It wasn’t alright. He had to reign in that anger. Sam was always keen to pick up on such drastic mood changes from Jon and he certainly did not wish for that to happen. Jon didn’t really want to do anything to give Sam a reason to pry about that petty and unreasonable aspect of Jons psyche. He already wasn’t proud of it, but he was angry and stubborn enough of a man to know he wasn’t going to actually do anything about that.

He was right about one thing though, you loved it. Once he had gotten home finally, telling his family he and you would be a bit late coming down for supper he had let you open the box just as he did to find out before relaying the same details that his mates told him.

Only you were so much easier to read. Your eyes lit up so brightly, a smile not even bothering to hide painted across your lips as you turned and turned it. “Who knew they had such a sweet side.” Jon only grunted with a bit of amusement in his chest as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. Muttering that you were only saying that because you didn’t have to spend days with them out in the wild and see how easy it was to want to throw them in a river then. You only glanced over to him with a playfulness, “Or perhaps that is just because you have a tendency to be a bit of a brute.” Opening his mouth to object, you swapped the toy into your other hand, freeing up one enough to point grab at the edge of your collar and pull it down more to expose the skin on your shoulder. The marks now fading, but still clear bruises from the last occasion Jon got a bit carried away.

Not that you were complaining, but it made Jon smirk all the same as he only leaned down to press the gentlest of kisses to the skill discoloured skin. Glancing up at you without fully raising his head with a rasp, “I’m sorry, darling.” About to tell him not to be, Jon cut you off by cupping the side of your cheek. Pulling you into his lips for a proper kiss, you leaned into him so easily.

Thumb running across your cheek, he pressed many smaller ones each and every time he himself tried to pull away. You made it so easy to keep kissing you. If he wasn’t so strict about ensuring you ate, Jon would’ve gently set the toy aside. Push you down onto the flat of his bed and hover over you, kiss you until both of you needed air together, which for Jon, could last quite a while. Pulling away, you nodded for him to get up with you. Walking to the other side of the room to place the toy right beside the wolf plush, you grabbed a longer, warm cardigan as Jon chuckled at you. Your eyes turning to him with a jest and yet still accusing doubt. “What?”

Jon only gestured to the cardigan before smiling a big in amusement. “It’s not even winter yet and you’re already cold.” Coming up to you, he placed his hands on your hips as you held him at the waist gently. “The baby stealing all your warmth?”

Shaking your head a bit with a hidden smile, you looked back up with bright eyes still. “Maybe you just need to keep me warm more this winter.”

A bright, loving smile came over him. Not bothering to answer yet as he leaned down to press another long, lingering kiss to your lips which stole your breath right from your lungs before he pulled away. His rasp or his kiss making you shiver, he couldn’t know. But he adored it all the same. “Aye, I do.” Turning you in his arms, he pushed you towards the door, “No more stalling. I know you’re hungry and won’t admit it.”

You had attempted to turn to look back at him and say you were fine, but changed your mind the second you made eye contact with his greys shining down at you knowingly. Only turning back with a shake of your head he guided you down the stairs and following into the main dining room. No one questioned what made you both late, all smart and correct to assume Jon wouldn’t tread on anything inappropriate seconds before bringing you out for dinner. But, as he pushed your chair in for you as you sat, Jon couldn’t help but notice Robb watching a little closer. Looking for those signs everyone else knew weren’t there.

His eyes scanned for marks, signs that anything had been gotten up to in that time. The possibility of a jealous brother made Jon ironically feel jealous if not possessive as the right word. He knew of course that you liked suppers like this. With everyone in one place, it took the pressure off of you from becoming the main discussion as chatter begun as food was served and passed around. Jons eyes every so often flickered to the side, making sure that you put enough of one thing on your plate before you passed it to Robb across from you.

Only, just as Jon felt the need to say something to you about how little you had yet, that possessiveness flared up from within. His dark eyes growing ever darker as he watched Robb with a teasing look gesture to your own plate, his tone matching which no one found suspect. “You sure you’re eating for two with only that?” Glancing down with a furrow in your brow your face fell flat at realizing what he meant. Mentioning that you had plenty of time to build more of an appetite. Only Robb again, had seemed to take up the conversation which normally happened in silence between Jon and you instead. “If they’re anything like one of us, you’re going to want to work on that real quick.”

There was chuckles at the table, your eyes flickering to a bemused Catelyn who confirmed as such that it would be something you’d have to adjust too no matter what. Robb as if to make a point, purposely reached over enough to put more on your plate to make a jesting scene of it as you just as joking but on a dissatisfied mocking face to jest your not true disapproval.

Jon watched for a second, his eyes on Robbs retreating figure back into his seat, himself still holding the next dish. Normally when Jon was trying to get you to eat more, he’d just serve for you but he knew if he did it now with more eyes currently on you, it would stand out. It would look almost like he was trying to one up Robb. Instead, with a more clenched grip Jon handed it to you and simply didn’t make any mention of the amount.

Robb was doing it in a joking way, but he didn’t know you like Jon did. He didn’t understand the deep rooted insecurity. Robb hadn’t gone with you to classes and appointments and see the weary manner which you eyed the much more pregnant women in a way that Jon knew meant you were worried about when you looked like that. He didn’t understand what Jon would do to ensure you never had to worry about that, not before, not after, but certainly not when you gaining weight was the healthiest thing for you and the baby. Robb didn’t know any of it.

He was throwing daggers in his eyes each time you and Robb laughed. You both spoke to each other a lot that dinner, and Jon hated every second of it. His gaze tearing away from his brother down along the table to find anything to distract himself. Only, he found himself meeting Arya’s face twisted slightly towards him. Gesturing to something without making it noticeable, Jons face only scrunched not knowing what she was trying to convey.

Her eyes flickered towards Robb, then back to her lap then Jon again, and he connected the dots. His hands rising up ever so slightly palms out to show nothing, he knew she picked up on that he meant he didn’t have his phone with him presently, so whatever she was secretly trying to message him to say wasn’t going to be read now. If Arya could’ve sighed dramatically, she would’ve. Instead keeping it internal as she gave a little tilt to say to talk to her later. Jon nodded, knowing at least the two of them still spoke their own strange silent language. Especially when it was Arya with something on her mind she wanted to talk about.

The meal went smooth for everyone that wasn’t him. All Jon could focus on what the way Robb looked at you. That look he knew so well if just because it was the one Jon had given you for half your life, if not the entire time at least Jon had been there. There was something wanting yes, but moreso wide eyed and lovesick, something that affection dripped from without the understanding of how obvious it would be to any but you.

In moments such as this, Jon truly wished that Theon were here as a buffer. He and you would consistently get lost in a conversation and Jon wouldn’t here have to constantly watch his brother look at you and wish it was him in Jons position. Which, he knew Robb was thinking that. Why wouldn’t he?

Jon could not imagine looking at you in anyway close to the way he did and not want to envision a future together that was bound by blood. Not in an archaic sort of manner, no. But blood as in, the life you created together. The alternate version of Jons life where everything that happened between you and him, but with you and Robb, he hated it. He didn’t even know why he was unable to get rid of those thoughts. They were haunting him, tormenting him, mocking him as if to say that he was going to wake up at any moment and discover this was all a falsehood and a farce.

He was worked up, his muscles felt tense and an energy that was not pleasant needed to go somewhere but he didn’t know what. At least sensing Arya’s eyes on him, Jon muttered to you gently that he was just going to talk to Arya about something. If you picked up on his tense state, you thankfully said nothing yet. Not that he’d expect you too, you normally knew how to handle Jons tense moments.

You’d wait to see first if he came to you himself, opened up. Then if not, you were simply sweet on him. Reminded him in other ways you were there for him and it always prompted Jon to relax and open up, remembering why he didn’t like hiding things from you in the first place. But for now, Jon didn’t want you around him when he was this worked up about something so directly involved with you. You’d mistaken it for you doing something, but too, he also needed to get this out of his system, because neither did Jon wish for you to clue into that it was Robb about you he was mad with. That wasn’t an ideal scenario either.

Seeing Arya on the back porch, Jon turned to look where the main living space was. Calling out knowing he’d sense the intention from his tone alone, “Ghost.” And there, the scurry of the direwolf to his feet. Shaking out his fur and trotting over to him right away. Were wolves able to smile, there would be one on his face right now. Beckoning him to follow, the moment he let the glass door slide open, Ghost darted out with barks loud on his person.

All but leaping down to the ground off the porch where Nymeria was running around. Within seconds as he closed the door behind him, you could hear playful barking as the two begun to chase and snap at each other. At least he thought, unlike Arya, Nymeria was Ghost’s size and could hold her own against him in a playful fight.

Walking up to the porch, Jon rested his arms across his chest. Both of them just watching the direwolves for a while. He didn’t need to start the conversation, if she wanted to speak this privately he knew it was likely a conversation he wouldn’t like. The moment she opened her mouth, his suspicions became confirmed instantly. “What do you think he’s going to do?” Jon said nothing, as if silence was an adequate response to the question. Turning to look more at him, Arya’s tone wasn’t genuine curiosity but more a pedantic rhetorical one that she still expected Jon to answer. “You know what I’m talking about. What exactly do you even think Robbs going to do?”

“Nothing.”

Did he himself think that? Or did a wolf much like the one of his own he watched in the distance just give the answer he thought was no doubt expected of him. Arya didn’t buy it, naturally. “So why were you staring daggers at him the entire time?” Jon muttered that he wasn’t, and it was blatantly obvious between them that in this case, Jon was not good at lying. Rolling her eyes, she turned to match his stance. Arms crossed over her own chest, a scowl moreso frustrated on her then troubled on him. Her voice a bit lower, more serious but still held a familiar sound of talking down as if he were an idiot. “When has Robb ever been that person?”

The silence was painful. That question wasn’t rhetorical, but Jon knew any answer other then the truth was being unfair. “He hasn’t. But we’ve also never liked the same girl before.” Repeating the word like, with much more of a scoff, Jon turned to look over at her. “What?”

But the frustration as much as it sat so clearly on her tone, it didn’t shine yet as prominent in her eyes. “I think it’s a bit passed like, Jon. She’s pregnant. What is Robb going to do? Be a home wrecker? In his own home to his own brother?” Whatever words Jon had on his lips died as she cut him off. That frustration once more returning to cut him with the edge in which she spat it out with. “You two fought, why can’t you just let that be it?”

He sighed deeply through his nose. He wished he had a good answer to that, but he didn’t. Jon took his time to answer, and at least as testy as Arya could be, she knew much like you, and much like their father not to rush Jon to answer when he was this silent. Looking down, he uncrossed his arms. Stepping forward enough to brace each hand against the top railing of the porch banister. His eyes more wide as he looked up to the sky now so dim it could be described as dark, and just above the trees a near half moon lighting everything up around it.

Jon could only wonder how beautiful of a sight it once was, in an age where light didn’t hide out the amount of stars in the sky. He imagined Arya would’ve enjoyed that more then what little she could get even here. He imagined Kings Landing was the worst. Likely you could see the moon and nothing more with how dense it would be and lit up at night.

But it was watching that moon and what stars he could find, that calmed his blood more. Something filling him as he inhaled deeply through his nose, the air cool and crisp in autumn still. His voice was softer, more rasping with something distant behind it lost in thought, but not angry or dismissive. Your name coming from his lips. “I bought her a ring before she was even pregnant.” He could feel his little sisters eyes firmly on him, but he just watched what he could of the night sky. “I’ve always known she was it for me. Even before we started dating, I knew it was her. It always would be. I could find a girl I like, settle down, be happy, but as long as she was in my life..it wouldn’t be enough. Watching her disappear when she dated Tanner, and then just when I got her out of it, I watched her trade one nightmare for another.”

He’d never forget the day he met that rat, and he would always remember how Ramsay knew instantly what Jon felt for you. And what he did to torment him personally about it. But he spoke none of that outloud. No one still knew but the two of them, that he’d mock Jon with the sounds of him fucking you just to make his life worse. He didn’t tell you before and he wouldn’t now. But that didn’t mean that it made this easier.

“I never expected anything. I wasn’t waiting for the right time to jump in, I accepted what I was to her. Just her best friend, but we’re more then that now. And we always will be. But this is the one thing I have thats mine, the one thing that wasn’t Robbs first. Finally, I’m first and I want to be her last and I can’t stand watching Robb knowing that somewhere in his head, he wishes that he could be her last instead. That some part of him wants her even now.” Arya had listened silently. Taking in his words, and she too was quiet for a while trying to think of anything close to the right words.

“They’re not going away.” Clarifying before he could even ask, “Robbs feelings. They aren’t going away. I don’t know what to do, but you can’t hate him. I know you don’t hate him and you know that too, but you can’t keep acting like it. It’s not helping.” He knew that, and Jon had no idea how to pretend to stop feeling angry at Robbs feelings or acts of jealousy, nor how long it would event take for that pretending to bleed into actual acceptance and move on from it.

That felt like a lifetime away.

Sighing out, Jon let his head drop. Eyes closing for only a moment before he trailed upwards to once more watch Ghost and Nymeria. Now much more off in the distance, he expected they’d come back rather late and much to Catelyn and Sansa’s dismay, both likely in need of a bath. Arya took him off guard, even having told her minutes ago, she took him off guard. “When are you going to ask?” That time when he turned to glance at her in confusion, she truly was looking at him like he was an idiot as she said your name. “Her, stupid. When are you going to propose to her? You said you bought the ring, and there’s no better time, right?”

Brows narrowing, Jon considered it. Asking, he was so close to asking only a few short weeks ago and yet here he was. It was completely different now, even though, it wasn’t. He could wait until everyone went to bed, crawl into bed with you and ask you just laying next to each other under the covers and you’d say yes. But, he had enough sense to know better. Just for now, he wouldn’t be asking with the right intention.

He would always ask because he loves you, but he didn’t want to also ask, because he was possessive and wanted to lay a final claim to you. That proof could come soon enough when your belly would begin to swell, marriage could wait until it felt as if he wasn’t being hasty. “I’m not. At least not yet.” Arya’s ask of why was calm and genuine. “I waited my whole life for her, I can wait a little while longer to cross the finish line.”

Pushing upwards to two feet properly, Arya followed. Turning to look up at him, that frustration now tinged with something else. Jon hadn’t said much, but with her, he didn’t always need to. They could read each other well, well enough she picked up tonight something it seemed no one else had to talk to him about it. “Just trust him. His feelings aren’t going away, so you’re going to have to get used to it, and trust he won’t do anything.”

Arya didn’t say anything else. Going back inside to the warmth without waiting for him. Looking down at his feet, Jon sighed deeply as one hand came up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Turning back to once again brace against the banister railing. Legs somewhat bent backwards as he looked back up at the moon.

This was supposed to be between him and Robb. The casualty Jon knew was going to be painful, was you being in the middle, something both brothers had been trying to avoid. But with the fight in the driveway, and Jon growing colder and colder towards only Robb in particular, he knew he was putting everyone else in your position was well. They were too casualties by proxy.

He didn’t want to turn it into him or Robb, divide his siblings and family into thinking thats what this all boiled down to when it was so much more complicated then that. And if Arya noticed already, it was only a matter of time before everyone else noticed too. And certain people might not be as amicable to hearing Jon out then Arya was.

And yet, as he came back inside, Jon found you in the kitchen with Robb. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, the two of you just joking about something as he’d seen you do thousands of times. Putting you and everyone else in the line of fire with his jealousy, and yet, it didn’t go away. That urge remained to yank you to his side and tell Robb to leave you be from now on as if you were an object. He didn’t want to be that way, and in truth, Jon had no idea where that side of him came from.

This kind of anger, this kind of possessive obsession didn’t at all feel like something that came from his Stark side. Whoever his mother had been, possessive was not the word he would wish to describe her as, but he came to no other conclusion. Something in his blood that wasn’t Stark, was making him look at you with something dark and territorial and no amount of his sense as a man was letting that go away.

And yet the moment Jon turned, himself coming into view did you clearly catch him at the side of your vision, turning to face him more without a second thought and half of his inner turmoil melted away. Your eyes bright and soft as you looked at him, it hadn’t been long even since he had seen you and yet you looked at him as such. It was simply your natural reaction, something within you always excited to see him as he was you, even with Robb standing so close.

Telling himself not to ruin the moment, Jon muttered your name with something gentle yet playful in his tone. “How about you take advantage of no one using the water, before you go to shower like last night and they’ve used up all the hot water?”

A knowing look came over you, shaking your head slightly in what he knew was exasperated amusement. Sharing a glance with Robb, you likely didn’t pick up on the ever so slightly tense shift in his demeanour, nodding for you to go on. Jon gently turned along with you to guide you out of the kitchen to the stairwell, but not quite before having a pause. Looking at Robb with something more narrowing in his brows, his brother watching with his own sharper expression right back that neither of them spoke on.

Nor did they need too. The silence was all the tension needed to know what was going unsaid still forth. Catching up to you more, Jon following into the bedroom closing and locking the door behind him. Your person already having moved towards the dresser where the mirror was, pulling your hair in front of you to begun pulling out the ties keeping the braids all together and slowly undoing them. Jons hands naturally, itched at the urge to do it for you.

Coming up behind you, his hands grasped at yours, pulling them down to your sides as you let a small huff of a laugh out. “I can-”

Only interrupting you with a more cheeky grin, Jon begun more easily undoing the braids from his advantage right behind you. “Can do it yourself, I know. Hasn’t stopped me so far though.” He could see in the reflection, you resisting the urge to tilt your head in bemused agreement and he appreciated that he preferred you stand still for this part. The less you moved, the less likely Jon was to accidentally tug at your hair too hard. He hadn’t in years, not since he was still practising as children, but he wouldn’t risk starting it now.

Each strand coming loose, Jon helped smooth it out by running his fingers down the length, always slowing at the feeling of a tangle and using both hands to unravel it before continuing. It took longer and longer for this process to continue the longer you both were together. Jon started as he normally did, just enjoying your hair even from before you were together, but as the months passed the longer Jon used excuses to stay at your hair before all together dropping the pretense. He simply loved running his hands through your hair and he felt no reason to hide that by now.

Satisfied for now, Jon worked right away. Grasping the edge of your shirt, you helped him by moving your arms enough he could pull it up off of you, his hands only pausing just long enough at your breasts to dig his fingers under the fabric of you sports bra and gently pull it up off with everything else. Dropping it by your feet to handle later, you stood bare chested in front of his mirror. His hands not wasting time, yet, smoothing down your sides before undoing your jeans without so much as a need to pay attention to unbuttoning them. Once more, his hands slunk into your underwear and grasped hold, pulling it all down in one go. Kneeling behind you, guiding your legs to pull each pant off, while keeping you nice and steady against his grip as he did so.

The moment he stood, you turned to face him, not bound by his hands loving to keep you in front of him in this way. You spared no time, pulling his own shirt up and off. Only you must have either sensed his tense feelings radiating between he and Robb, or you were simply more soft then usual. Your hands drifted up his chest to press high against his torso, leaning to press your lips to his. Instantly cupping your cheeks, Jon pulled you closer. Deepening the kiss which you started, a greed yet satisfied hum leaving him as you sighed into his lips.

This was clearly what both of you needed if for different reasons. He had to remind himself, you were pregnant. He knew that meant things about your mood and needs would begin to change and that you might seek him out more. Not that Jon would ever struggle let alone reject your want for affection, but he knew to take advantage of that need while he would have the chance. Wrapping an arm around your bare waist, Jon pulled you close, his hand at your cheek moving more to your jaw to tilt you up to meet his lips. Kissing you over and over, as your hands slid downwards.

He felt you at the belt of his jeans, but taking a bit too long you must have needed to see. Pulling way, Jon instead preoccupied himself with kissing down your neck. Your shaking exhale beautiful in his ears as you now had a better angle at which to pay attention to his belt, opening enough to as well undo his jeans before trying to push the fabric down a bit. You wanted him to let you go so you could take them off, but a chuckle came to him before he could stop it.

Pulling way, he grinned at your narrowed expression without any explanation. Turning you, Jon more playfully pushed you towards the bathroom door with a mutter. “Set it to however warm you like.” You would need no more explanation, he liked it hotter then you could handle, so he would let you now set it to whatever you wanted. If he wanted a hot shower alone he could have that anytime, it was simply having you in the shower that he sought out more now. That was his main goal, having his girl in the shower with him to take care of as he liked.

Gentle sounds of water begun filling the air, the door partially open from the washroom, Jon first glanced over with wider eyes to ensure you were not looking. Crossing over to a cabinet of his own, he knelt down opening it. Digging through one thing then another, he knew it was tucked away safely but he had to check. Or moreso, he simply wanted to see it, needed to. He leaned forward a bit so he wouldn’t have to pull it out into the open to get a better look, instead only raising it up enough that he could look it over.

Hearing you still pattering about in the other room, he could tell by the distance of the muffle that you were not anywhere near view of the door luckily. He considered it. Truly, he did. He had all of the confidence that if he were to walk in there right now and give it to you, what you would say. But, would he be asking because now felt right? Or because that very wolf within him was angry that Robb was so close to what was his with a wanting in his eyes, even if you could not detect it yourself.

The conflict twisted in his stomach. Wrapping it back up, he let it sit right back in it’s hiding spot. He couldn’t ask you now. He would just be trying to keep you with him by any means necessary instead of asking because you were ready. That was his promise to himself when he bought it, that Jon would not ask you before he knew you were ready. He could be ready right now, and you would say yes right now, but saying yes and being ready were not always the same thing to such a large question.

This was not one act or request, it was a lifelong commitment and despite a darker feeling within trying to convince him otherwise, Jon was a better man then that and did not wish to act on such darkness anyways. Closing everything back up, Jon pushed up onto his feet properly, taking his jeans off the rest of the way before finally making his way into the other room.

Warm steam begun filling the room in a comforting way, you no doubt turning the water up just slightly higher then you preferred it, trying to accommodate Jon as much as Jon wanted to accommodate you. Shaking his head slightly, he at least could too smile seeing you had already gotten in. Pulling the curtain back gently, you turned back almost about to cover yourself up.

A brow raised as he nodded down to your hands hovering over about to hide, the grin on his face was palpable in how teasing it was. His voice might have been more on the side of flat, but your own face falling flat too spoke that you picked up on his mocking with ease. “I think we’re long passed that.”

Your face attempted to steel itself as to not form into a grin, and when failed you simply turned to face away from him. Letting the water run over your front. Coming right up behind you, Jon grabbed your hips. Carefully stepping into you so his back pressed against your chest, running up and down the smooth but now water kissed skin his palms found. Leaning down to your neck, Jon pressed his lips there with a touch like like a feather, but a rasp deep and soothing in your ear as too it sent a shiver down your spine. “Let me do you first.”

Not letting you answer, Jon reached over your shoulder. Pausing as his hand was about to grab at your soap before moving to the shelf upwards with his own things. Your laugh heard over the water as you watched him, but unlike what you might have done months ago, question him on it, you simply understood in your own way. Jon liked when you smelt like him, even if it was just with his soap.

Carefully running the cloth over you, each stroke over your skin gentle for a man like him and yet his eyes were narrow paying attention. One would think the slightest of too much pressure put on your skin would have you shatter by his level of tender care. It was also one of the only tasks Jon could do so close to your bare form with nothing to hide his view, and he wouldn’t let it distract him. Making sure all of you was washed over, he only pushed upwards to unhook the shower head. Muttering for you to turn around for him, he started with your back down before getting you to face him as he rinsed the rest of the soap off as well.

A satisfaction in his chest at how already he could pick up his own scent on you even just here. Your hands grasped at his waist as he reached to put the shower head back, Jon meeting your bright eyes as he returned. The water making your hair flat and heavy and enough mist coming his own way that it tamed and dampened his own curls. One hand ran along your upper arm, his other moved higher. His fingertips trailing across your cheek before tilting your head up by the chin.

Did Jon even need to say more? Your eyes fluttered shut first, lips parting for him slightly as he closed the gap. Capturing your lips in a kiss, the fingers by your chin slid backwards. Raking through your soaked hair to pull you closer, Jon deepening the kiss the very second you stepped up to him. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, trailing high to rake through his curls. Almost just as he was doing for you earlier, accepting his kiss but massaging his scalp with your nails. Just scratching along enough a shiver ran through his blood warming him with need.

One hand grasping at your hip, Jon turned you in place. Pressing you up against the wall of the shower, his body pressed tightly against yours as his lips kissed you deeper and rougher. Feeling himself bite into your lips as an aggression grew and grew, only increased tenfold as your arms wrapped around him more, nails threatening to dig into his back.

Risking to near bruise your hip, Jon, didn’t bother to hide how hard he grew, how you would feel every second of it knowing that there was only once place his mind could trail towards, and at least in here, alone with only the two of you, that possessiveness needn’t come out in aggression or anger, but in a true need.

A particular harsh bite to your lips, you gasped into him, breath stolen by Jon but too interrupted in every way as he took advantage. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, he stepped up closer to tower over you more, his other hand reaching up to grasp at your jaw. Tilting you up to be angled perfectly to simply let go and allow him to control it. Brushing his tongue against yours, never allowing you even the chance to explore back no matter how much he felt in your grasp, in your shake, in the whine hiding in the back of your throat that you wanted too, and yet would let Jon control it.

Confident you’d stay where he placed you for now, Jon let the hand on your jaw move. Slide through the wet strands of hair at the back of your head, sifting his fingers through he get a good hold. Were he not tasting the inside of your mouth with greed, he may have more directly noticed how much you melted into his touch before he even did anything. Grasping your hair was an act enough alone to get you worked up, knowing even the slightest tug could have you wanting to press your thighs together, but here, you didn’t need too.

Tearing his lips from yours, he heard you gasp but thought little of it as he felt his teeth baring in need to sink into your soft skin, seeking out out sensitive neck. Biting down with something raw behind it, your body arched into his as you gasped so beautifully high pitched for him. Your hands holding onto him tighter yet scared to carve into the muscles of his back as if he’d ever tell you to not do whatever you needed with him. It was a pain you so seldom scratched along him and yet Jon craved every second of it. How much he could look at the healing lines and be reminded that it was a need he gave to you alone.

Soothing the rough touches with presses of his lips, before letting his tongue brush over once more. Though not to heal further, as if marking down the continued path he was to bite down into, sucking at the skin until he knew it would bruise and mark before he’d let up. His cock heavy and throbbing as you continued to call out, your breasts bare pressed up against him. His hand on your hip slid upwards, none to smoothly, just out of an urgency to grasp roughly at your breast.

A growl let into your neck, at how perfect they were for his hands. How yet they’d grow in the coming months and even then they still would be perfect for him because they were part of you. Not just the form of a girl he felt for being pregnant was what was doing it, no, Jon knew you were special. The girl he’d looked at with a wanting innocent and otherwise almost half of his life, over half of his life. You had wandered shyly into his home at the age of eight and Jon never looked back and here you both were.

Barley able to pull from your lips, your eyes were still sealed shut even as you heaved to catch your breath as Jon did, his own grey eyes dark as they stared at you, tearing down your body more until he let go of your breast. His hand with more intention, but tilting your head up to meet his eyes as the sudden motion was enough for yours to flutter open. A tender wonder for only a moment lasted before something wanting and yet endearingly shy came over you, in the mere seconds it took for your brain to catch up to his intention.

Two fingers pressed roughly against your clit, were his hold of you by your hair not so firm, you’d have jumped along with the pretty gasp you too let out. Knowing he wanted your eyes on him, but Jon wouldn’t match it right away. Instead, he looked down, watching your legs as they stood there, trying to to shake already, feeling your hands on his shoulders now trying to not hold on too tight as he rubbed tight circles into you.

He worked you up as a musician could an instrument they had long since become an expert on, he didn’t even need to think about how to bring you the most pleasure, it was second nature. The moment in any way you became his, Jons lesson of life was to learn every single inch of your frame and every single thing which made you wanting and needing and drew you closer to an orgasm and he would exploit it without a second thought.

The slightest hitch in your breath, knowing to the second how close he had brought you to the edge already, Jon leaned forward. His nose nudging slightly at yours as he watched your eyes flutter closed once more, moving with him in the way he could much more gently capture your lips. A sound not even he could tell if was a moan or a cry or even just a sigh filled his mouth from yours as something pleasurable came through you, his gentle touch a perfect harmony to the rougher one at your clit.

Not even deepening his kiss, the moment Jon sensed it, he refused you in the final seconds to finish before those same two fingers slid down. Was it merely being surrounded by water or were you truly this wet for him already? Jon desperately hoped for the later. Some words spoke that women possibly were more needing when pregnant then before, and once more Jon felt his cock throb at the thought.

He wanted you all the time, he could hold himself back, but it never made wanting you the way he did any less intense. It was why when he had you alone, Jon could take you as often as he did. He would wait as long as you needed, years even to be with you this way but the very second he had you just like this, holding back was something he would struggle with immensely.

Dragging along your sensitive walls as he felt you soak and clench around them. His kiss interrupted by his own smirk as the whine finally was pulled. The water beside you both impeded on his ability to hear how soaked you were, but he could feel it. He could turn the water off right now, pull out of you and show you how much you coated him already. Pressing you further into the wall as much as he could, Jon refused himself to pick the pace up, to keep it steady, keep you on that edge instead of allowing you to fall over it and you wanted it too.

As sick as Jon sometimes felt for enjoying not letting you cum, you trusted him enough to not disobey that and it made his head spin. That trust felt almost unearned, only months he’d been with you this way, and in that time he had been far from perfect, but you took that trust for him from nearly a lifetime and never second guessed directing it towards him in this way. He had accidentally gotten you pregnant after spending weeks obsessing over that very thought, and you still trusted him.

You couldn’t know for sure he didn’t do this on purpose, but you trusted him regardless. Something Robb would never understand, the kind of trust you had in Jon and why he would rather die then take advantage of that trust for his own gain separate of you. His wants were you, not in spite of you.

Muttering against your lips, Jon could feel your shaking breath with each word he muttered against them, “Turn around for me, darling.” Nodding yes, Jon stole one last kiss before helping you turn. Pulling his fingers out and pressing a kiss to your forehead as you winced even at that loss alone.

He preferred you to face him, wanting to kiss you, watch your beautiful eyes on his but in the shower, he knew he could keep you so much more steady if he pressed your front into the shower wall, rather then hold you up in a balance and not harm you. It wasn’t just you at risk now, and if he was not willing to let you slip and hurt yourself then he wasn’t going to harm the little one now. No matter how much you tried to argue they were so small it wouldn’t matter.

Your body leaned back against his, seeking out the warmth that he gave off unique to the hot water still raining above you both. Your legs parted more, stance wider for him as you held at Jons forearm which slunk around your front to hold you against him. Only moving his length enough to properly brush between your soaked legs, Jon pressed a lingering but tender kiss to the skin just below your ear, hearing your breath take pause as he took his time.

Not rushing as he slowly slid inside of you. Watching with dark, hooded eyes as yours fell closed, as your head dropped and too did your lips part in a silent gasp. The manner which he stretched you was something else, it was as if each time he was moulding you to fit him, to fit his length to be made for him and ensure no one else had a right to try and change that. If a name and face which would want to do same came to Jons mind, he refused to let it develop into a full thought. Instead choosing to focus on gently shushing your whines with his soothing rasp in your ear. His thick cock dragging against your clenching, warm and soaking walls as you somehow were a balance of tight enough his teeth gritted but yet somehow gave no resistance. The thrust slow and slick but smooth and tight you had him use his now free other hand to hold at your hip, knowing already he was creating bruises in the shape of his fingertips to match the other.

You would never know if Jon was going to start slow and take you rough the moment he slid inside of you, or if he would work you up fast and needing but take his time once he got to it. He was wild and unpredictable and not with purpose, his need for you simply varied to every extreme and he refused not to explore it. Instead, he filled you completely, pulling his lips from your skin only enough to hear a whine come through the shaking exhale.

As much as his own blood boiled in his veins, Jon huffed a laugh as a gentle smile came over him. Your eyes not even catching it but hoping your ears could hear it, which you always could. A flush coming over your chest which Jon himself could not see but just like you, knew was there. His murmur in your ear making you clench around him, as he so slowly begun to move back out of you, only just enough to feel you tense before he couldn’t help himself and thrust back as deep as you could take him. “Breathe for me.”

Nodding, he knew you must be lightheaded, kept on the edge more then once now and so full, telling yourself not to let go right away. If the feeling of your cunt so wet and tight around his cock wasn’t fogging up Jons mind he might have had the thought of how adorable he found it that you always tried to hold off until you knew for sure his teasing was over. Never pushing his limits, never begging, never acting the brat, instead trusting he knew what to do with you.

So he kept a slow pace, moving in and out of you never speeding up and never growing rough. Forcing you to feel every single inch slide inside of you, imprinting the feeling of his cock so it stayed with you like a phantom come the morning. “Jon..” Nodding against you, Jon pressed his forehead against the back of your hair, your bodies moving slowly together like waves never pressured to pick the pace up.

Something most men would consider torturous were you to handle them at this pace on your own, but no, Jon was the one keeping you this way. The manner which your nails dug into his forearm, how your breath shook with every inhale and each exhale accompanied by a cry or a moan or a whine as Jon filled you over and over. Knowing how much you were holding back against that warm tightening he was creating inside of you.

Only shifting enough so you didn’t think he was pulling way from you, Jons hand moved enough so that as his hips thrust inside of you barley enough to even call it a real pace, his large, rough hand pressed firmly against your stomach. Your skin so soft perfect for him, he had every inch of you memorized but here he would do it again. Marking your stomach to memory, so that the very second you begun to grow and swell with his child he could watch it. Jon had a long list of ways to take you to admire you growing pregnant the further along you got.

He knew you’d be nervous, he knew you’d be self conscious as to your size and Jons head dropped to your shoulder with a grunt not knowing the words to explain he didn’t care if you ever were this size again as long as you were pregnant with his child. His grunts grew to growls as he didn’t go rougher, but picked up the pace more. Water going from hot down to warm as it still splashed against you both, Jon growled as he knew it got in the way of hearing the soaked sound of his cock sinking deep into your cunt. But he’d take you in the bed once finished here, he was not done. One was never enough, he always wanted you.

He wanted you to have this baby, have more, create a little family, a pack of your own making together and so he could bring out that ring he was hiding from you and ensure it would be you and him forever no matter what. But he held off, he bit down harder, leaving indents of his teeth into your shoulders as you cried out. He’d ask you here and now if he hadn’t talked himself down from it earlier.

But he knew he had to come up with a plan, otherwise any time his cock was so deep inside of you, he could slip up and ask you at any point. And he still might even with such control, you were more then the mother of his child but that did not make it any better.

Faster and faster he thrust inside of you, “Hands against the wall.” Not commanded, but the tone an order all the same. You nodded, with cries wanting to leave you, bracing yourself against the wall as Jon shifted. Grabbing both of your hips and steadying himself Jon thrust faster and faster. His hips slapping more loudly into your ass, the skin echoing off the walls and back to his ears as your cries increased. Everything in him drew burning hot as he came closer and he knew you had no idea how loud you were, nothing but beautiful gasps and whines and begs of his name you didn’t even know you were letting out.

But he fucked you again and again, sinking inside completely each time before he knew you were losing it. Clenching so tightly around his cock, Jon growled shamelessly into the air as he thrust now harder and harder. Each slam of his hips pulling a loud moan from you before your muscles tensed and seized around him. Cunt clenching him so tightly but before you could question yourself, Jon pressed his chest into your back. Sinking as deep as he could, his hands tight on your hips as he dragged you back against his cock to fill you deep as he could.

Your cunt practically begged him to finish inside of you, and he obliged. There weren’t many places Jon would want his seed to spill, but inside of you was almost always one of them. Groaning your name as your silent moans haunted him. Thick ropes of his seed filled you, pressing close against you until you let out a loud sound at how sensitive you were. Jon for now, had given you all he had and you took it perfectly.

He’d keep you there for a while. His arms easing you back into the world by wrapping around you, before even thinking of pulling out. Eventually turning you to face him once he did as you fell into him, accepting his kiss not caring as you had little breathe to even hold out on. Jons hand running down the length of your soaked hair over and over as you wrapped out arms around his back and shoulders once more.

Moments like this, Jon could forget the rest of the world and have only you exist as you did the same with him. Just wrapped up in one another, with a baby now growing between you. He could for now, not obsess over the ring he had hidden for you, the one he bought before you were even pregnant. The one he wanted to give you already but held off to keep you comfortable at your own pace. But he would soon take you to the bed, lay you out properly and take you over and over then too, far later into the night then he should’ve kept you awake. As if marking his territory all over again, trying to tune out the sight he had not let himself think about.

The sight you had no idea, of how often Jon had watched Robbs eyes turn to an angry jealousy the moment he trailed them to your not yet showing, pregnant stomach. It made Jon angry, furious, but when the baby was born and it looked the perfect mix between Jon and you, he could rub it in Robbs face as much as he wanted then.

Jon hoped his father was right, and Robb would get over this, but they were both wolves. And wolves did not back down from a fight easily, certainly not when it came to a perfect mate like you being the creature of wanting between the two of them.

He wouldn’t just marry you to make his point to tell Robb to back off, but Jon certainly wanted this baby to make that point for him.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Ask and ye shall receive 😝

You actually have perfect timing though because I just thought of some new themes and was going to send in more asks soon! So first we have the stories where Chris is Going Through It™️ (to very different degrees across the stories but still). In order of severity of his struggles:

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 (LOVING THIS ONE SO HAPPY ITS BEING PUBLISHED!! I’ve been following along the snippets the whole time but it’s so fun to read it all through and see all the parts I missed. And that last part where Eddie finally got to Chris and he’s so out of it!! So engaging I can’t wait to see the full picture of what’s happening!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (covids getting to him :( poor kid! All three of his parents are going to help him get through it together! Also covid means we’re approaching Buckley parents’ visit territory! I’m pumped for the angst!)

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩 (oh boy the probie better not screw up the florist visit! I’m definitely worried it’s gonna go wrong! And I really want to know what Buck’s surprise is!!! This story is so adorable and sweet and funny and I’m really loving it!)

- PCA <3

THIS WORKED GREAT FOR US!

Great theme. So true. Why am I hurting him?

117 for 🌲 (THANK YOU! So glad you're enjoying it!)

---

“I have,” Adriana says. “And, wait… Eddie, you’ve killed people, too. Right?”

Eddie frowns at her. “Yes. In Afghanistan.”

“See, Mom? Eddie and I have killed. Sophia puts things down for a living.”

“Well, I do more than that,” Sophia grumbles. 

“We’ve got a sort of grit I just don’t think you have,” Adriana says. 

Eddie swallows anxiously. He’s not sure challenging her to a game of chicken is the route he’d take. But he got them this far. Maybe it’s time to pass the baton. 

“See, I don’t think any of this was thought out ahead of time,” Adriana says. “And I get that. Hell, do I ever. You’re not playing chess here, Mom. You’re just surviving. Trying to hold your little delusion together. Every decision you make is out of desperation.”

Eddie waits for Helena to reach across the table and strike her. It doesn’t happen. 

“So do it, Mom,” Adriana says. “Let him go or kill him. I don’t think you’ve really thought through what will happen if you choose the latter.”

Their mother locks her jaw. Her eyes flicker between Adriana and Ramon. There’s an incredibly tense moment where Eddie has no idea how this will go. And then enough moments pass, and he realizes Adriana is right. If Helena was serious about murdering their dad, she would have already. She’s right - it’s all been an act to hold her flimsy life together. 

“Three…” Adriana says. “Two…”

Helena opens her mouth, as if she’s about to command Ramon to do it. To stab himself. Sophia flinches. Eddie holds his breath. His mother’s mouth snaps shut. 

“One,” Adriana finishes. 

Helena exhales, defeated.

Adriana turns to their father. “Dad, you can let go of the knife now. You don’t have to listen to her, remember? You can think for yourself.”

Helena starts to cry.

Ramon inhales heavily. His eyes flicker around, conflicted. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Adriana says. “You can let go.”

Like he’s been resuscitated, Ramon gasps and drops the knife. He stands and takes a few frantic steps backward, bumping into a cabinet and nearly knocking over some crystalware. He looks terrified. He looks small, in a way.

“What’s happening?” He demands. “Helena, what did you do?” 

Eddie looks between them both. His parents. He spent so many years afraid of them. His father especially, but his mother as well. Afraid of their judgement. Their lectures. Their hands. Their punitive attitudes towards his decisions. Their willingness to rip his son from him. And now he’s looking at them and he’s just… Unafraid. Saddened. This is pathetic. This is all so damn pathetic. 

And something in Eddie’s chest just kind of unlocks. Like a stiff joint cracking. 

“Mom,” Eddie says. “Tell him what you did.”

“No, no,” Helena begs. “Please. This doesn’t have to-”

“Tell him!” Eddie snaps. “Tell him what we are.”

Ramon looks at Eddie. Then he turns to Adriana. And the look on his face is one of pure horror. Rejection. 

Well. 

That’s okay. 

Eddie thinks he wants to reject this circus first. 

🍂

“Okay,” Buck says, putting in the address to the nearest motel in his phone map. “Repeat the plan.”

“We go to the motel. We sleep a few hours. You order me a bunch of pizza and drinks before you leave. You go get Dad, and I don’t open the door for anybody unless I physically see him.”

“Right,” Buck confirms as he pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ll leave you with Bobby and Maddie’s phone numbers. If there’s an emergency, either of them would come for you. Or-or they’d send Chimney.”

“Okay.”

“I hate even thinking about leaving you alone, but I can’t take you with me.”

“I know, Buck. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “I haven’t… Uh, I haven’t felt like I could be alone for real in a while.”

---

72 for 🔼 (Well it's not alll gonna be angst... is all I can say...)

---

It goes on that way for weeks. Calls and online games mostly, but twice a week, Buck and Eddie are over in the yard, either doing garden chores, or directing Chris with his. Sometimes, when the weather is right, Shannon will lay a blanket on the opposite side of the yard and sit out there with them. Jane will sit up on the blanket, some brightly colored toy in her hand, watching them work intently and babbling little baby sounds. Eddie gets to talk to her. Gets to answer back like they’re having a conversation. 

For those weeks, Chris seems happy. Shannon seems happy. Jane, well… She’s a baby. Her mood changes with the hour. But she seems good, too. Great, even. Eddie just can’t wait to hold her again. 

“You’re in a better mood lately,” Buck observes one afternoon, driving home from gardening.

“I miss the kids,” Eddie says. “It’s just good to be with them, in whatever way we can be.”

Buck nods, smiles softly. “Yeah. You’re different after you see them. I… I love having you all the time, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Eddie exhales heavily. “Me too.”

Buck smiles again, but there’s a sad look in his eye. 

“What is it?” Eddie asks. 

“Nothin’,” Buck clearly lies.

“No, really,” Eddie presses. “What’s up?”

“I’ll just miss not being with you every day,” Buck says. “Even if I know it’s for the best.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

“If you think I’m letting you go, Buck… You’re crazy.”

Buck scrunches his lips to the side for a second, blushing. 

“I’d hope not,” he mumbles. 

“Definitely not,” Eddie confirms. “And, it’s not just… I mean, you’re there every time, too. You’re family, okay? I take that seriously.”

That kind of leaves Buck speechless for a second. Eddie knows he takes it seriously, too. 

v.

The last time Eddie came home - really came home, after being far away - it hadn’t exactly been his choice. He was shot out of the sky and littered with bullets and nearly died. Shannon nearly lost him. He didn’t come home. He was sent home. Not his choice. Shannon always wondered, would he have reenlisted? Would it just have kept happening, if it had been left up to him? If he hadn’t been medically discharged, when would she have snapped? What would have happened? Would she have divorced the empty side of their bed?

She doesn’t know. That’s not the point. The point is, today, after another prolonged absence - albeit not his choice or fault, and much preferable to Afghanistan - Eddie comes home as soon as he possibly can. Restrictions are lowered. Eddie takes a test. And the moment it’s clear, he’s on his way. No hesitations. No excuses. He’s just coming home. 

Shannon tells Chris. He whoops with excitement. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, giddy. 

“I’m sure,” she promises. “He’s ten minutes away, sweetie.”

Her son is so happy he starts to cry. 

---

96 for 🪩 (THANK YOU!)

---

It doesn’t quite go that way. 

Eddie wakes up to Christopher shouting. 

“NO!” 

This is a rather alarming way to be woken. Eddie, startled, nearly rolls out of bed and hops to his feet to run to him, before he remembers his foot. 

“I got it,” Buck mumbles, climbing out of bed with a yawn.

The whole point of today was for Buck to sleep in and take it easy, but what can they do? A shout like that requires some haste. Eddie can’t currently be hasty. Eddie lags behind as Buck hurries out of the room, in search of Christopher. He finds them in the bathroom. Buck’s broad frame blocks Eddie’s view inside the doorway. 

“This is horrible! Prom is ruined!” Chris complains.

“No,” Buck says gently. “No, it’s not that bad. Really!”

“What is it?” Eddie asks. “What’s going on?”

“My life is over!” Chris bemoans.

Buck sighs and steps aside, letting Eddie into the bathroom. 

“Look,” Chris points to his forehead. His forehead, where, smack in the middle, there is a massive, red zit. “It’s horrible.” 

“Oh, wow,” Eddie says dumbly.

Buck nudges him.

Christopher’s face crumples even further. 

“I mean!” Eddie leaps to fix his statement. “I mean, it’s not that bad. Wow, your reaction was… Big, because the zit is not.” 

“Oh, great save,” Buck mutters.

“You’re lying!” Chris practically whines. “It’s horrible!”

Eddie sighs. He fucked this one up.

“Okay, you know what? It’s not great.” He admits. “But prom isn’t ruined. We can fix this.” 

“Can we?” Chris asks. “Because they don’t just disappear!” 

“No. No, they don’t,” Eddie agrees. 

“But we can hide it!” Buck interjects. 

“Hide it?” Chris asks.

“Yeah!” Buck nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We can, uh… Today we can work on getting the redness down, and tomorrow we can use some makeup.”

“Makeup?” Chris asks. “I can’t do makeup! I don’t know how!”

“Well…” Eddie winces. “You must have friends that do. Ainslee does, right?”

“What?” Chris demands. “She can’t see this! She can’t know!”

“Eddie, how did you ever get a girl to take you seriously?” Buck chides. “No, Chris. Don’t worry. We’ll look it up on YouTube.”

To his question, Eddie has no idea. Realizing he’s gay was incredibly liberating, in that he never has to think about that again. And, on top of that, Buck is pretty easy to be around. No stress. No pressure. 

“YouTube,” Chris sighs. “Right. Okay. Buck, you’ll help me?”

“Of course,” Buck nods. 

“I can help, too!” Eddie insists. 

[l0relaii]

Hi! I saw requests were/are open, and I was hoping you could do a Josh Washington imagine where reader has been in an abusive relationship and she is still scared with whats happened in the past and Josh is helping her through her emotions and just being an amazing boyfriend?? Speaking from personal experiences, this would just mean a lot to me, I feel like Josh would be great in a situation like this. Would also love it if it ended with them making love and he's just so sweet and reassuring during! Thank you so much!

i'm so sorry to hear you went through an abusive relationship darling, i hope you're okay now!! i won't pry and ask you about the extent of the abuse so i'll just throw in some scenarios i found fitting

josh noticed you sometimes flinched when he made a sudden move

he thought it was a bit odd but maybe it was just your reflex 🤷‍♀️

or you'd close your eyes and your breathing would become a bit shaky if his voice got a bit louder, not necessarily is an argument

i think he's pretty much a loud guy in any setting, it's just the way he speaks

then you tell him everything you went through and it all clicks

all the times he saw your eyes filled with tears, or red and puffy after lying to him that you didn't cry, all the times you flinched and winced

it's all making sense now

he suffered alongside you. seeing you like that hurt him too.

knowing the person he loved was in pain was taking a toll on him, he felt so helpless sometimes

all the times you'd turn away his touch he got so sad. why wouldn't you let him hold you? kiss you? make you feel better?

it takes him a bit to understand your reactions and responses

of course he doesn't blame you for any of it, how could he?

that fucker. he'd kill your ex if he could. he's so angry, not at you, but at him for making you feel like this

you didn't deserve that, no one does

he explains to you that nothing that ever happened to you or that any past lover did to you was your fault

when you do get closer to him and let him in he's so happy with your progress.

he's always holding you and praising you for how good you are doing

if you ever have any nightmares he holds you throughout the night caressing your back, bringing you water talking to you about it if you want, even humming you soft tunes so you'll fall back asleep

and the love making is the best. he's so gentle and soft always giving and giving and giving never expecting anything in return

he's kissing every inch of your skin while holding you close to his chest, to his heart, so you'll feel it beat and know that he's there, he's real and he'll stay

he'll always be there for you no matter what

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[thedreadvampy]

it's been a strange arc so far

when I was 19-21 and having an extremely imbalanced relationship with someone in their mid 30s I was like 'we are both adults so the fact that this is fucking me up is my fault'

when I hit my late 20s and saw how young people in their late teens and early 20s seem now I was like 'oh wait I was so fucking young I didn't know shit about my own limits or about managing relationships and I don't know why someone in their mid to late 30s would be into that except for nefarious purposes'

the weird bit is now I'm into my 30s - not even that far into my 30s - and while I still wholeheartedly believe that last thing about how young (and self destructive) 20 year olds are, I'm also kind of like 'huh, actually nobody I know that age has their shit remotely together and frankly the reason this fucked me up is because NEITHER of us knew what the fuck we were doing it how to cope, for different reasons and at different life stages, and there probably wasn't any malice or intent to control as much as there was Blind Flailing.'

[faaun]

the forest looks like heaven today i woke up feeling the heaviest weight at the top of my heart

[luvsavos]

i am once again apologizing for my lack of activity/responsiveness

my childhood cat passed away a few days ago which has just been more stuff on top of everything else for me to deal with to stress me out and upset me

i'll try to get back to stuff. Eventually. as soon as i can</3

[sleepless-crows]

.

[wayfinderships]

Every once in a while I think about my old L.upin III s/i and the whole situation they had going on with him and man...

[ivycorp]

Riot's TFP AU: The quiet before the storm (in more ways than one)

Peace has been tentatively arranged between both sides following the appearance of their leaders' sparkling - first in a very, very long time in the history of Cybertron.

However, it doesn't mean there is no more fighting involved.

Optimus fell hard onto the ground, data cables tangled around his pede, as a slim servo gripped his finals and slammed his face into the ground. Before he got a chance to recuperate, the mech on his back managed to do it a couple more times, keeping him disorientated.

"That's enough, Soundwave, thank you." 

The disappointed huff came from the side of the ring, where Megatron sat comfortably, cradling Silverlight; the child was curled up, happily napping above his spark, supported by one clawed servo. The warlord himself kept on rubbing small circles on it, chirping occasionally when the sparking would wake up at a particularly loud clang or grunt until it would relax once more. The red optics of their carrier were glaring at the Autobot unimpressed, as the blue mech finally released his hold of Prime's helm, stepping off his back.

"I told you that you need to keep track of the cables when he drops low like this - it's the fifth time you're falling for the same trick, Optimus," said the Decepticon leader, clicking his glossa in annoyance. The red and blue bot groaned before he pushed himself up, looking at his partner in exhaustion.

"I know, but it's harder than it looks," Prime complained, but there was no sympathy coming from his lover, who instead snorted lightly.

"I know it's hard - I know very well how good Soundwave is at fighting,” the warlord admitted, nodding appreciatively. “I'm happy to say he hasn't lost his edge," the warlord noted with a hint of pride. Optimus could see the compliment was actually well received; despite the strained relationship between the Decepticon command and their leader, the TIC stood straighter - preening, smugness in every little bit of his frame. 

It seems that while the communications officer did not agree with the relationship between his old friend and his 'lover turned enemy turned lover again', he still recognized the value of such words coming from a fellow former gladiator. Megatron might have been biased in fighting the ex-Archivist, but he was still a formidable opponent to anyone else. 

Especially since he finally got used to actually wearing his visor, which allowed him to see who he was fighting in the first place - this time without having to worry about the helmache at the too bright light in his surroundings. 

(Admittedly, the appreciation of the device was most likely founded by the fact that not only could he change its settings, letting him adjust the transparency easily, but could also run entertainment on the inside, which may or may not have already been used during some of the more boring meetings or medical tests.

Raf promised to Bumblebee that he will figure out if they can run Doom on it.)

Nonetheless, Soundwave was quite obviously having a lot of fun; he could see the deceptively delicate digits curl into fists anticipatingly, undoubtedly looking forward to the next opening left in the Autobot's defense. Despite the TIC standing completely still a few steps away, Optimus felt like he was being circled by a predator, pacing slowly around him - waiting to strike, aiming to kill. 

When Megatron announced that he needed his partner to 'stay in peak physical condition', Prime expected it to be a veiled reference to interfacing (which he would have been very interested in 'practicing'). To his astonishment, the silver mech actually scheduled a set of regular sparrings for him, asking his officers if anyone was up for the task.

Soundwave was the first and only one to step up to the challenge, and by then the bot should have known he was in trouble.

While the bouts were supposed to be actual exercise to everyone involved, with the Decepticon TIC in the ring it felt more like a one-sided battle for survival; the blue mech gleefully exploited the opportunity to resolve his underlying distaste for the Prime by beating the everloving slag out of him. 

All of that happened to a running commentary of the warlord, who kept on chastising each of the mistakes made by his lover. He managed to sound stern even as he shushed their sparkling, matter-of-factly criticizing the other with the level of focus that would have been frightening coming from anyone else; with them engaged in combat so often, it was easy for the silver mech to note even the slightest hesitation and obliviousness - none of which could be permitted with such an experienced opponent.

"Again," Megatron ordered, rubbing his helm tiredly, and the Communication Officer focused on the Bot still sitting on the ground.

Optimus would have laid down in protest had he not known from experience that it would not actually get him out of getting his aft handed to him. He scrambled to get up, barely managing to block the first punch, side-stepping the appendage which tried to throw him off balance.

“Am I interrupting something?” queried a new voice, and the Prime nearly got his smokestack ripped off by being distracted; his companion laughed, patting the bench beside him in invitation at the psychiatrist, who approached them with mild curiosity in his optics.

“No, Rung, you are just in time to see my conjunx get a taste of skill forged in the Arena of Kaon,” he mentioned, gesturing towards the ring, where the mech in question was intently focused to not give any ground to the vicious attacker. Soundwave’s data cables were hard to predict, but he had to admit that with each beating it was becoming less difficult to keep track of them - ugh, he would have to actually admit to Megatron that his weird training plan is working; he was going to be insufferable about it, he was sure.

“Will you be doing this too?” the small bot asked, taking a moment to smile at the small sparkling in the other’s grasp that opened their bright optics to look at him when he joined their carrier. He waved at it, delighted at its soft beeping, and the Decepticon snuggled it closer, humming a gentle tune in response.

“Can’t, I’m carrying,” the warlord sighed, rocking the child against his chestplates absent-mindedly. Rung looked at him pensively, as Jazz approached them after handing over the console back to Prowl, having finished logging the remaining reports. He watched his friend jump away from a kick aimed at his interface array, crossing his servos at the sight.

“I’m sure Optimus could watch the kid for a moment, it would be good for you too to get some exercise in, too - relieve some tension and all that,” the Autobot SIC mentioned, keeping his optics on the fight in front of him, just as the Matrix bearer ducked to the side from being grabbed by his opponent, earning a pleased sound from the other former gladiator in the room.

“See? You got it this time, I knew you could do it!” he praised his lover loudly, and the Prime perked up, finally getting positive feedback. He couldn’t help shooting his partner a beaming smile; that distraction caused him to miss the two cables sneaking in from his sides, looping around his neck and dragging him down right into Soundwave’s pointy knee joint.

Megatron watched the Autobot go down again, letting out a loud ex-vent of exasperation. 

“We will have to work on that…” he muttered, before he called out to the TIC to step off from the other’s helm. The blue bot complied, but not before grinding his pede a little bit harder, earning a hiss of pain from Optimus. The Autobot leader pulled himself up, wiping his faceplates from the dirt yet again that day, as he turned angrily, clearly annoyed at his progres being thrown back into his face so swiftly.

“Again,” the silver mech announced again, before he turned to address Jazz, who had been joined by Bulkhead and Miko in the meantime, both cringing away at the last maneuver.

“When I said I am carrying, I didn’t mean it in a ‘I am holding Silverlight and that prevents me from participating’,” he started, before he smiled widely, tapping his chest once again, saying “I meant it as ‘there is another sparkling growing in there and the medics would not let me live it down if I jeopardized its well-being like that’.” 

Rung sat there, observing the entire exchange with a conflicted expression. He had been privy to that information quite early on, having his access to some of the patient’s medical files; it wasn’t easy to miss the ‘warning: actively carrying - medication to be reviewed’ pop-up flashing across the registry, awaiting the acknowledgement from the other staff. 

Knock Out was so tired that day, that they just told him to go take a long, relaxing ride with Breakdown - away from the Nemesis.

Judging by the lack of surprise on Optimus's end, he must have already known the good news.

Looking at Soundwave, it was quite obvious the TIC knew of it too - and was doing his best to show his displeasure at the apparently insatiable sire.

However, looking back at the other Autobots, it was quite clear that their leader hadn't shared the good news, and Ratchet would have blasted Pharma's spike off if he tried to break patient confidentiality to tell them.

“You just had one come out from you, how did you manage to get sparked up again so quickly?” Jazz questioned in disbelief, staring at the warlord in both anger and wonder. Megatron shrugged, unconcerned.

"No idea, to be honest, we still haven't figured out precisely how I got sparked the first time around," he said, looking fondly at Silverlight basking in the heat coming from his chassis. He smirked, as he added in a theatrical whisper:

"But well… Optimus is rather enthusiastic…"

Elita broke the datapad in her servo. Prowl stopped typing at the console, as he turned to look in the direction of the training field.

Jazz stared at the warlord blankly, before he slowly turned his helm to look at the Prime, before he asked in a mild tone:

"Those practice sessions… Can anyone join in?"

The Decepticon leader grinned before he stretched his servo to the datapad at his side, powering it up. He passed it to the SIC after opening a schedule, where the sessions against his conjunx were planned out for the next few weeks.

"Just leave a few for Soundwave - we are finally seeing progress," he chuckled, amused at the furious expression as the mech started to add his name in.

"Write me in for a few, too," added Elita, throwing out the broken pieces of the pad she crushed moments before, and standing menacingly at the edge of the field where Optimus was by then venting hard, struggling to keep his hold of the data cables secure.

Both of the Autobot SICs had something to say about the irresponsibility of their leader - they would be heard, no matter if the Prime wanted it or not.

Until then, they would stand there, consumed by anger of being out of the loop.

The warlord shook his helm when his conjunx glanced towards his lieutenants and faltered, ending with getting sent flying out of bounds. His companion was lovely, but he needed to learn that Soundwave does not let even the tiniest mistakes go.

As he granted Optimus a break, coaxing him close to take a look at his injuries to assess if they already needed Ratchet's support, he indulged the other with a nuzzle to the helm, EM field filled with happiness. Their sparkling chirped joyfully, and the Prime smiled at them both in spite of the aches from the merciless sparring, looping his servo around the warlord to pull him closer and steal a quick kiss.

The other occupants of the base were used to those displays of affection, but some of them couldn't help rolling their eyes (or optics) at that - these two could be obnoxiously sappy.

Not discouraged in the slightest, Megatron held his sparkling in between them, leaning into the embrace, as his other servo rested over his spark; no doubt already thinking about the new addition to their lives. 

How lucky were they to be blessed by this so quickly after the first miracle?

Rung felt his own spark ache, looking at the happy couple in silence. 

He couldn't warn them. 

He couldn't prepare them for it. 

There was no possibility of this situation being changed in any way, and telling them about it now would only invite more questions and despair, as they realize they won't be able to change anything.

The psychiatrist braced himself for the future: one where the bright ball of light under the silver plating - nestled currently against its carrier in its innocence, soaking the love of their creators - had no chance to survive long enough to reach emergence.

*******************

@transingthoseformers I am following up on my promise to myself