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pastanest · 1 year

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Requested by: @neymarjrrwife, I really hope you like it!! ♡

A/N: for this, we’re going to pretend Ygritte was never romantically involved with Jonny boy :) also, this unintentionally evolved into my favourite trope of all time...yep, you guessed it...thERE'S ONLY ONE BED

Jon Snow x she/her!reader

A Song Of Sunshine And Snow

The knock at his door causes an immediate conflict of emotions within the newly nominated Lord Commander. While he welcomes any distraction from the paper-bound responsibilities of his new role that bore him beyond belief, any interruption when he is shut in his quarters usually brings about an unpleasant circumstance that he is the one now trusted to resolve.

Sighing, Jon Snow lifts his tired eyes from the seemingly endless rolls of parchment on his desk and looks to the door. “Come in.”

With a sense of urgency, Samwell Tarly bundles through the door and Jon has to resist rolling his eyes, immediately parting his lips to remind his best friend that he does not need to knock to come and see him, regardless of his new status, but Sam does not allow him the chance to speak.

“There is a girl, Jon! A girl at the gates of Castle Black! The brothers there, well- Gods only know what they’ll do to her if left unchecked!”

Instantly, Jon stands to his feet, reaches for his fur cloak and storms out of his quarters, wrapping it around his shoulders and clasping it as he marches down the stairs and out into the courtyard. There, several brothers have gathered in a crowded circle, surrounding some poor soul in the centre in eerie silence, staring eyes in every visible direction.

“Seven hells, let her through!” Jon orders in a thunderous voice, parting the men until a path is formed.

And there, standing in the middle of the shocked men, lacking the terror he expects and instead showing only a slightly nervous smile, is you.

Eyeing Jon up and down and sensing his authority, you breathe a sigh of relief. “Hello, are you the Lord Commander?”

Blinking rapidly, he nods, struggling to comprehend the boldness in your voice. “Aye, and who are you? What brings you to Castle Black?”

At that, you sigh. “Well, it’s not a very nice story, but an unfortunately common one these days. My village was raised to the ground by Ramsay Bolton for refusing to stand with him, and…I have nowhere else to go. My brother is here, you see, and I wanted to deliver the news to him myself, of our family. I understand it is against the rules of the wall for a girl to stay here, so I only wish to seek refuge until I can be directed somewhere safe to stay. My name is (Y/N)”

Again, you shock Jon with the way in which you recall the devastation that has led to your arrival. While he can see you have been upset by the events you describe, you have seemingly already come to terms with them enough to set your hopes on being reunited with your brother and then starting a new life somewhere else. A positive outlook like that is a rarity, in these parts especially, Jon thinks to himself.

“I’m sorry to hear of the loss of your village, we’d be more than happy to serve as your asylum. What is your brother’s name? If he’s not beyond the wall, I’ll take you to him myself, but if he is, you have my permission to stay until his return.” His promise to you is sincere, and the expressions on the surrounding men’s faces is enough to suggest he is going against tradition in his offer, but as a man before a brother of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow cannot possibly turn you away.

“Thank you, Lord Commander. My brother’s name is Gaius-”

One of the men earns a harsh frown from Jon as he interrupts you, but when the Lord Commander realizes the man was simply calling out your family name to confirm that he knew your brother and his whereabouts, the frown falls from Jon’s face.

“Thank you, brother. Gaius is on watch, you say?” Jon clarifies, earning an “Aye” from within the crowd of men, before nodding and looking back to you. “Follow me, my Lady.”

Having a man as important as the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch refer to you with the formalities of someone highborn is enough to bring a bright smile to your face, but the fact that such a man has already shown you such kindness, too? You are certain that in the whispers you had heard in your village of Lord Commanders of old, none had been regarded as kind.

Without a word, you follow the fur cloak and inky curls towards a man-operated mineshaft of some description, and when you look up to see just how high the contraption goes against the track built into the wall itself, your mouth falls open. Standing inside what looks, to you, like a large wooden crate, Jon Snow takes a moment to admire the expression of wonder on your face, again without fear.

“My mother says the wall touches the sky and is the closest to the Gods most men will get!” You tell him, voice excitable as you hurry into the contraption and stand beside him. Realizing what you had said, your smile falters slightly. “Or, she used to say, I suppose.”

Jon’s eyes are full of sympathy as he looks down at you, watching as your eyes dart around every opening in the crate to see the world from new heights as the lift ascends.

“I’m sorry for what, and who, you have lost.” His voice is quieter this time, less formal now that the two of you are without witnesses.

“It’s alright, I consider myself lucky to still have my brother when so many have nobody. Living on the wall must be such a lonely life, in that way. In a position like yours, I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you to stay if your family were in any kind of trouble. I’m sorry that this place forces that weight on you, and your brothers.” You meet his eyes, and Jon cannot believe that he sees his own sympathy for you reflected in your eyes for him, without you knowing anything of him or the hardships he has faced.

“Thank you, but it is part of the Oath that every brother of the watch must take, it’s something that we agree to.” Jon explains, and you shrug.

“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less when that gets tested, though, I’m sure.”

Jon breaks eye contact with you to stare straight ahead. “Aye.”

For a moment, he loses himself to thoughts of what he has lost, what he doesn’t know for certain if he has lost or not, due to his position here.

It doesn’t take you long to break the silence and pull him back to the present. “What’s your name, Lord Commander?”

“Jon Snow.” He answers.

“And does the wall touch the sky, Jon Snow?” You ask him, bringing the first chuckle from his lips that he has heard in a time he truly can't remember.

“No, my Lady, I’m afraid it does not.”

Feeling victorious in your mission to bring a smile to the stoic man’s face, you can’t help grinning. “That’s a shame. Still, I bet the world’s pretty from up there, and I’ve never seen the other side before! What’s it like?”

He hates to admit it, but the genuine curiosity that laces your excited words is melting the layer of ice that’s formed around his heart in the years he has spent living a life as cold and harsh as this.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jon tries his best to hold onto some kind of professional composure, but the smile you’ve brought him simply will not leave as long as you are still standing at his side.

To his absolute astonishment, you nudge him playfully. You, a stranger, a woman from a village he doesn’t know, having known him no more than ten minutes, have playfully nudged the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, like he’s no more than a childhood friend to you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re really not going to tell me anything? You’re going to make me wait until we get to the top? Don’t be a bore, give me something to picture before we get there!”

And he’s laughing again. Jon Snow is really, properly laughing and shaking his head in utter disbelief at the existence of you, wondering where such a jewel has been hiding all this time and how the sun hasn’t caught sight of you to create a shining trail that would have guided him straight to you before today.

“It’s snow and ice and trees, as far as the eye can see; there really is not much more to report, I’m afraid.”

Scoffing, roll your eyes. “That’s incredibly underwhelming. Perhaps the best view to be seen from the wall will continue to be the pretty face of Lord Commander Jon Snow?”

By the time you’ve asked your rhetorical question, the elevator has reached the top of the wall, and you are already stepping out of it, looking over your shoulder at the man you have just frozen in place with a bright smile.

“You can't take a wife, I know, but who’s to say a girl can’t flirt with you every now and then?”

And Jon Snow can’t speak. In all his years, he has never known himself to become so flustered as to lose all memory of every word he has ever known. He is a man, the Lord Commander of the brotherhood that protects the realms of men, and you have reduced him to a blushing, bashful boy. Seven hells. Giggling to yourself and the impact you have clearly had on him, you walk over to the closest edge of the wall and peer over the other side, gasping quietly at the sight of a world you’d never seen before, and then the world you’d always known on the side you came from, but never thought you’d see from a bird’s eye view.

The rest of the men on watch have all ceased their conversations in shocked silence at the vision of an actual, real woman at the top of the wall. At first, they consider the possibility of whether you are no more than a mirage, but upon realizing they are all staring in the same direction, conclude you really are in front of them. Their stares do not seem to phase you, but Jon Snow does not appreciate the looks some of them are giving you.

Stepping out of the elevator, he frowns at them. “Keep your eyes beyond the wall, men.”

One of them, a younger one who looks to be not much older than a boy, gulps nervously. “B-But, Lord Commander, that’s a-”

Jon interrupts him. “A woman, brother, not a giant. Focus your eyes on the danger you are here to watch for.”

The young man nods frantically, turning hurriedly to look back at the same view beyond the wall that you are yet to tear your own gaze from.

“Send for Gaius, tell him his sister is here!” Jon calls, deciding to summon your brother to you rather than lead you along the wall and increase the number of men that have gawked at you this evening, which is already far too high, in his opinion.

A couple of men set off along the wall in search of your brother, and as they go, Jon’s eyes gravitate back to you. With a soft smile on his face, he watches you dart from one side of the wall to the other, peering over both sides as if making a mental list of their differences for some unknown reason. Suddenly, you gasp again.

“Is that direwolf a member of the Night’s Watch?”

Strolling over to stand at your side and peer down at the courtyard with you, Jon chuckles. “That’s Ghost, and I suppose he is, but he was with me before I came here.”

The expression on your face as you slowly turn to him is, no doubt, the most shocked he has seen you thus far. More surprised than you were when standing in the crowd of men on your arrival, and more in awe still than you were when you first looked over the wall.

“You have a direwolf? Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, prettiest man on the wall, has a direwolf?!”

Approaching from behind you, three men return, one with a resemblance to you that the blushing Lord Commander does not miss as he glances over your shoulder. Having heard your remark, your brother rolls his eyes and groans in annoyance.

“Gods, (Y/N), please do not flirt with him, of all the men here!”

Jon watches the smile that reaches your eyes in acknowledging the sound of your brother’s voice, his heart fracturing in his chest when a sadness within you slowly fills your eyes. Turning to face your brother, Gaius reads your expression and frowns in concern, his previous humor gone.

Once in front of Gaius, you pull him down to hug you, and the sympathy Jon feels for you as your brother clutches onto you, the heartbreaking news of the village you had both grown up in having been destroyed in its entirety, your family going up in the flames, too, reaching your brother’s ears, is enough to bring a physical ache to the Lord Commander’s chest. Leaving you to a private moment with the only family you have left, Jon passes you both to receive updates from the men on watch of anything they may have seen while on duty. He knows that if there was anything to report, he would have been informed of it already, but keeping their attention on him distracts them from the conversation between yourself and your brother, and means Jon himself does not have to focus his full attention on listening to them in his current state of worrying for your wellbeing.

After a few minutes, Jon returns to the two of you, seeing you have broken from your embrace and are instead wiping your brother’s tears, though none fall from your eyes, Jon notices.

“Gaius, you are relieved of your duties tonight. Please, take all the time you need.”

Sniffling, your brother nods gratefully. “Thank you, Lord Commander.”

Nodding along with him, you send Jon a meaningful glance and then return to the lift, an arm around your brother’s middle to guide him in his dazed state.

With sorrowful eyes that lock with yours, Jon watches the two of you descend the wall until you disappear from his line of sight.

For the rest of the evening, Jon Snow busies himself with as much as he can before the obligation to return to the parchment he has allowed himself to be distracted from begins to suffocate him. The only thing that had truly been able to distract him has, very predictably, been you, but not in the way he had anticipated. Naturally, he loses himself to thoughts of your smile, the things you’d said, how he’d felt when you were close. But more than that, Jon Snow found himself missing you the moment he could no longer see you. The positivity that you radiate everywhere you go, the kindness and lighthearted nature with which you carry yourself, every aspect of you that he knows so far is addictive in a way that he simply can’t explain. The longer he is away from you, the more certain he becomes that some part of him has been missing you through every event of his life thus far, he just didn’t know that it was you he had been missing until today.

Expecting to return to the less entertaining parts of his duty, he trudges back to the Lord Comander’s office, which he must now regard as his own. Upon reaching the door, however, he finds you petting Ghost’s head and smiling down at him.

“I see you’ve made fast friends.” Jon greets you with a soft voice, heart already dancing in his chest at the sight of you.

The smile you had previously been giving Ghost moves to Jon and brightens. “Definitely! The news tired my brother out, naturally, so I thought it best to send him to bed and then come and wait here for you. Ghost beat me to it, so you’d best see to whatever he needs, first.”

Jon chuckles. “He’s just looking for somewhere warm to rest for the night, I expect.” Pushing open the door to his office, he is proven correct as Ghost pads over to a large rug on the ground and immediately curls up there, causing both you and Jon to laugh quietly. “What can I do for you, (Y/N)?” Jon asks, gesturing for you to head into his office first, assuring you that despite the reputation of some of the men that have been sent here, chivalry will not die as long as Jon Snow lives.

Stepping inside, he closes the door behind you and offers you a comfortable armchair, while he sits on a rickety wooden chair behind his desk, quickly pushing the rolls of parchment aside to clasp his hands on the table and give you a small smile.

“Much like Ghost, I was looking for somewhere warm to curl up for the night, as I dont think it’s a good idea for me to try and sleep in a room with any of the men here. I mean no disrespect, but based on the looks they’ve been giving me, I take it most have forgotten how to act when a woman is around.” Despite the airy chuckle that passes your lips, Jon sees it then, the slight nervousness in your eyes as you glance at the door, as though worried a man could burst through at any moment, but not at all afraid to be in this room with him.

Frowning, Jon nods. “I understand, but please trust me when I say I will not let any of the men here close enough to harm you. For the duration of your stay, it would be best if you were never without the company of your brother, myself, or Ghost, to ensure your safety.”

The offer of spending more time with the kind Commander is enough to bring a sparkle back to your eyes. “Thank you, I appreciate that a lot.”

Jon shakes his head, dismissing your gratitude. “And to the matter of your sleeping arrangements-”

You interject. “If you have a spare blanket, I’d be more than happy to stay in this chair, it’s actually very comfortable!”

Appreciating your humble offer, but disregarding it entirely, Jon shakes his head again. “No guest here will ever sleep in a chair, not on my watch.”

At that, you can't help snorting. “Pun intended?”

As silly as it is, Jon finds himself laughing with you. “Aye.” He clears his throat. “I think you would be safest sleeping in my quarters.” When Jon sees your eyes widen, he fumbles for more words. “I mean to say that I will sleep elsewhere, perhaps that chair, or another room- the men will not disturb my private chambers, so you will be safest there.”

Settling into a somewhat relieved and somewhat disappointed expression, you nod at him. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you, but I won’t ask you to find other sleeping arrangements. If there is any way for you to still be in your chambers, I would feel safer knowing you were close by, if anything were to happen.”

Touched by the trust you are already showing him, Jon holds your gaze and nods. “Of course. As long as you are not at all uncomfortable with the idea-”

“I’m not.” You answer, perhaps a little too quickly, making Jon laugh bashfully.

“Good, I’m glad. We’ll need to provide you with clean clothes while you are with us, but I’m sorry to say women’s clothes are not kept here.”

You shrug. “It’ll be a testament to my appeal if I still draw as much attention when dressed as a man, I suppose.”

Holding his tongue, Jon resists the urge to immediately tell you that he has no doubt you will, especially in his eyes, because he is already certain he would be able to pick your smile out amongst any number of others, no matter what clothes you were wearing. Instead, he chooses to keep such thoughts to himself and the rising tension within him forces him to his feet from behind his desk, Ghost immediately standing to attention, too.

“I’ll see to fetching some more clothes for you now, Ghost will show you to my chambers for the night.” With that, Jon Snow speeds out of the room and takes some deep breaths of ice cold, northern air. Beginning a brisk march to the storage room where linens and clothes are kept, his heart pounds in his chest in a way that he has never felt it do before, in a way that Jon did not think possible.

Before today, before your smile, it had been locked away in a thick icy wall of its own, and he had been foolish enough to believe it to be impenetrable. How can you possibly have melted it, in its entirety, already? And why is Jon Snow so exhilarated at the thought of such a terrifying thing?

Still seated in the armchair you had been left in, you fan yourself with your hand and laugh to yourself in disbelief, your face flushing hot as you replay the conversation you’d just had with the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. In truth, it takes you a few minutes to regain strength enough to stand, and when you do, you tilt your head at Ghost, who tilts his head right back at you, mimicking you.

“We’d best keep my reaction just then between us, what do you think?” You ask him, and Ghost huffs in reply, agreeing to keep your secret in his own way.

Having formed a truce, Ghost walks you through the open door and begins to lead you to the Lord Commander’s chambers.

Regardless of being told to come here, letting yourself into someone else’s private place of rest feels intrusive. When Ghost paws at the door, though, you feel he has granted your passage in a way that you cannot refuse. Ghost strolls in like he is the one that owns these chambers, and you start to think that perhaps he does as he curls up on the floor at the end of the bed on the other side of the room. Making sure you close the door behind you and light the candle closest to you on entry, you take in your surroundings, not seeing very much to suggest that this place has been truly lived in by Jon Snow and using that to form the conclusion that he has not been Lord Commander for long enough to have spent very much time here. Still, sitting down on the bed that you know to be his, the soft scent of him brings the smallest smile to your face, remembering when you had been at his side while ascending the wall, close enough for it to be impossible for you to miss his earthy scent, mixed with a little sweat and old soap. With hair like his, you are certain he must take care to wash at every opportunity.

A gentle knock at the door makes you jump out of your skin.

“Come in!” You call, feeling just as ridiculous as Jon does from the other side of the door, having just knocked to request entry to his own chambers.

Far more calm now, Jon steps into the room with a folded pile of clothes in his arms. He spent an embarrassing amount of time sifting through the spare clothes to find as many soft fabrics as he could, rather than giving you any of the aged, scratchy items, and that is a fact he will take to the grave.

Placing them at the foot of his bed, the sight of you sitting on it makes him smile, hoping you have begun to settle in.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no need to thank me, I hope they are comfortable.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at his concern, you grin up at him. “As long as they’re warm, I won’t complain about a thing. Where will you sleep?”

Evidently, in all his preparation for collecting the biggest pile of softest clothes he could find, Jon had neglected to think about that very question. Scratching the back of his neck, he glances around the room as you had, like the place is so unfamiliar he may not have registered there was another bed, or chair, to sleep on, but unfortunately chambers are solely meant for sleeping, and the Lord Commander’s only includes one bed.

“I will sleep on the floor.” Jon concludes confidently, knowing his back will not thank him for such an offer, but his gentlemanly nature will not allow him to consider any other option.

Immediately, you shake your head. “Absolutely not. I trust you enough to not jump on me, and there is plenty of room for us both in this bed.”

Jon’s eyes are wide as he ponders the mere possibility of sharing a bed with a woman.

Before he can protest, you give him a warm smile to reassure him. “I swear, I don’t mind.”

Swallowing a fear he is certain is worse than facing a white walker, Jon Snow nods, silently agreeing with you.

“Let’s get to sleep, then. I expect you have to wake early.” You assume, and Jon nods again, having once again lost the ability to speak as he rounds the other side of the bed and sits down with his back to yours.

Heartbeat ringing in his ears, Jon watches your shadow in the candlelight on the wall in front of him as you raise your arms and begin to strip down to your underclothes, giving him the clarity that he needs to know it is alright for him to do the same. The still rising tension is enough to tell you that neither of you will be able to stand sleeping fully clothed, let alone when your bodies are as close as they will have to be under the furs of the bed. Deliberately taking as long as he can to unbutton his undershirt, Jon waits to hear you shuffle under the bedcovers before he tosses his undershirt to the ground and does the same, granting you a momentary view of the bare skin of his back for a few glorious seconds before his head falls against the pillow beside yours.

Several seconds pass in a painfully slow eternity, before you roll over to face Jon, and he glances down at you.

“Rather than letting this continue to be horrifically awkward, let’s treat this as a cozy opportunity to get to know each other, hmm?” You suggest, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief, turning on his side to face you, foreheads mere inches apart as he stares into your eyes, your expressions barely visible in the dim candlelight.

“How do you always find a way to see things so positively?” He asks you, unable to withhold the question that he’s been wondering from the moment you arrived.

“Finding the happiness in something that someone else can’t quite see at the time, makes me happy.” You shrug beneath the furs, like what you’ve just said isn’t one of the most profoundly kind things that Jon Snow has ever heard. “My turn to ask a question!” Jon nods, not bothering to even try and hide the smile on his face at your excitement. “How has such a kindhearted and pretty faced man landed the position of Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch?”

Jon chuckles lightly, cheeks blooming pink. “How many times have you called me that today?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lord Commander, or pretty?”

Scoffing, Jon rolls his eyes playfully. “You know which.”

The giggle that escapes you makes his heart splutter in his chest. “You can ask me that when it’s your turn to ask a question. For now, you must answer mine, those are the rules.”

Jon sighs, feigning dramatics. “I yield. I’m Lord Commander because Sam put me forward for it and Maester Aemon casted the deciding vote in my favor.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, trying not to notice the bare arms that Jon lifts from the furs to cross in front of him. “I didn’t ask how the voting system worked, I asked how someone as kind as you won such a vote!”

At that, Jon Snow gives you a cheeky grin. “You’ll have to make the question more clear when it’s your turn again.” Your jaw drops theatrically, and with a smug tone that you’ve never found more attractive in your life, he continues. “So, go on, how many times?”

Without delay, you answer. “I’ve said it three times, but the amount I’ve thought it is not yet possible to count.”

Jon releases a hearty, bashful laugh at that. “Why’s that?”

And then you throw a cheeky grin right back at him. “Still some hours left in the day, plenty more time for me to think it every few minutes.”

Inching closer to you still, Jon feels his heart hammering against his chest. “Every few minutes?”

Eyes glazing over in a way that has him swallowing nervously, you smile up at him. “Or, more accurately, every few seconds.”

Jon’s eyes dart from your own to your lips. “Where have you been all this time?”

Holding his heated gaze, you answer without needing time to think about it. “Waiting for you.”

Jon’s stomach flips, something it’s only ever done before in moments of true shock or fear, which this, in itself, obviously is, but in a way that he has never known before. “You know, I cannot take a wife.”

Shrugging, you scrunch your nose playfully, voice barely above a whisper now. “A forbidden and secret romance always sounded more fun, anyway.”

And as if that final demonstration of your incredible ability to spin any kind of inconvenience into something astoundingly positive isn’t enough to pull a genuine groan from Jon, he sees your eyes glance from his to his lips and linger there, and he needs no further indication from you. Leaning in, he captures your top lip between his own in a kiss that is as passionate as it is gentle, not wanting to alarm you and giving you the space to pull away if it please you, but when you raise a hand from beneath the furs to drag your fingers through the curls you’ve been desperate to feel since the moment you laid eyes on him, and push your body flush against his, Jon Snow loses every ounce of strength and resistance he has in favor of instinctual, near animalistic desire for you. Crawling over you, your hands grab at the toned muscles of his arms, gasping against his lips and allowing him entry to a land he’s never explored before, but is certain he will become a master of soon enough.

Needless to say, a song of sunshine and snow is one of heartwarming tenderness, in the same way that it is a tale of a love so all encompassing and completely overwhelming, neither party stood a chance.

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taglist: @otteropera @neymarjrrwife @oliviabelova

#jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader #game of thrones #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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luvly-writer · 1 year

Text

“You are my sunshine”

Part 36: Thanks indeed

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Jason Todd x Latina! Reader

Social Media Au

Status: Finished

Warning: None

Author’s note: Part two of thanksgiving! WHOOP WHOOP.

Taglist: @lorosette @nanas-teatime @izukuisbaby @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @unofficial-jaytodd-wife @graywrites5567 @addictedtothefictionalworld @halleest @randobeetlehouse @prettyacademia00 @tamimemo @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @mxtokko

Series Masterlist:

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All eyes turn to you once you are both down and you hide behind Jason, blushing because of all the attention. Jason smiles and moves out of the way to present you. He takes your hand and pulls you towards Diana, who you were looking at in pure awe. “Aunt Diana, this is YN, my soulmate. She is a big fan of yours.” He presents you sweetly, placing you in front of her and your cheeks grow hot. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Wonder Wo- I mean, miss Diana!” You say making her laugh. You want to die of embarrassment. “Well it is true what they have been saying, you truly are blessed with beauty! The pleasure is all mine, child. Do tell me, are you sure you are not a lost child of Themyscira? Artemis was right in saying that you look the part.” She responds making you giggle and shake your head with a smile as an answer to her question. Diana smiles at you and waves as Jason pulls you away. You wave back and excitedly whisper to Jason, “omg! Jason! Did you hear that! She complimented me!” Making Jason laugh. “Rightfully so, love, now” he pulled you in for the of a red head boy and Artemis, “to formally introduce you,this is Artemis and Roy, part of the team of the Outlaws and my best friends” he says and Artemis laughs and smiles whilst Roy nods with a smirk. “Good to finally, ACTUALLY meet you, gorgeous” said Artemis with a wink making Jason scowl and mutter “behave” at her, causing both of you laugh. Roy takes your hand and shakes it, “Good to finally meet the one that finally cuffed this dumbass, good luck dealing with him” he says making you smile and nudge Jason, who rolled his eyes at his best friends and says, “ok ok, we do not need to scare her away”. The four of you laugh and engage in small conversation as Jason brings you closer to a hug. Before you can get too comfortable in his embrace, Bruce calls you over and Damian takes your hand and pulls you away. He brings you close towards the Kent’s, who are all standing there waiting for you to arrive. Once you get there, Bruce begins to speak, “Ah yes, this is YN, the newest addition to the family” and you can’t help but smile at the fact that they already introduce you as family. “YN, this is Clark Kent, his wife, Louis Lane, his kids, Conner and Jon, and his cousin, Kara.” You smile at all of them and wave, you fail to see Kara narrow her eyes at you. “It is a pleasure to meet you all” you politely respond and Lois brings you in for a hug. You hear Clark ask Bruce, “you adopted another one?!?!” And once Lois lets go, you see Bruce answer, “nah, this one is Jason’s girlfriend, not adopted” Clark smiles and teases Bruce by saying, “you do have a problem with that” to which Bruce retaliates with a huff, rolled eyes and a pouted lip, “I do NOT”. You laugh at the exchange and turn to look at the others. Conner extends his hand and introduces himself. Kara keeps on glaring daggers at you so instead, you look down at Jon and smile. Damian had stepped back throughout the whole exchange but now, he returned to your side and was looking at Jon, puffing his chest with pride. “Kent, this is YN, my new older sister.” He says with a smirk and Jon stared at you with awe. “Hi! My names Jonathan but you can call me Jon, I am Damian’s best friend” he says with a wide smile and you coo at the sight. Damian rolls his eyes and responds, “we aren’t best friends, Kent. Just close allies”. Jon laughs and replies, “that’s just a synonym for friend Damian” with a sing song tone and just before Damian can answer, Alfred interrupts and tells everyone that dinner is ready. You turn to find Jason and once you see him, you go towards him, hug his arm and smile at him. He smiles back and you hear Roy throw a comment about how Jason is whipped to with he shoot a middle finger towards Roy making you giggle.

Once you are all settled at the table, you stay quiet and observe everyone as the chatter stars again. Bruce is at the head of the table. To his left is Clack, Louis, Kara, Conner, Tim, Steph, Duke, and Cass. To his right is Diana, Artemis, Roy, Jason, you, Dick, Damian, and Jon. Finally, after placing all of the food at the end of the table, Alfred sits at the other end of the table. You all thank Alfred and begin to eat. It feels a little weird because you are used to doing a prayer before eating whenever you are back home, so you do a little prayer in your head and dig in. As you eat, you notice Kara continuously making eyes at Jason and glaring at you which confuses you so you tap Jason’s shoulder and lean in to ask him but before you get the chance to, Lois interrupts. “So, YN, I hear you are an architect.” You smile and nod, you love your job and you never mind talking about it. “Yeah, I am.” You answer and it is now Clark’s turn to ask, “Any of your works we might know?”. You think a little and then answer him, “Actually, yeah. Even though I work mainly in Gotham, Start city and Central City, there have been a few times I’ve worked at Metropolis. Do you know the New Stars Theater at 57th Shine Street?” everyone from Metropolis nods, all intrigued now that you were talking about their city. “Well yeah, that’s my design. The new owner of the theater district is an old friend of mine so she asked for my help when it got renovated and I delivered.” She finished explaining with a bashful smile. Clark and Louis were elated, that was one of their favorite placed to go with Jon and Conner on weekends, who would have known. Jon, who was beaming couldn’t help but say, “that is sooooo cool!” Making you laugh. Before you could respond, Kara decided to voice her thoughts, “That old thing was designed by you? No wonder it’s falling apart”. You are taken aback because it was a recent renovation. How could it be falling apart? You furrow your brows deep in though and Jon comes to your rescue, “No it isn’t! It looks great miss YN, don’t listen to her” to which Louis smiles and agrees, “yes, it is functioning amazing, maybe Kara was thinking of another theater.” And you ease up at that. Damian was frowning at Kara. He never truly liked her cause he found her obnoxious and now even worst cause she tried to offend your honor. So as a result, Damian decided to brag about your talents as to shut her up and said, “YN is the lead architect for Gotham’s new animal sanctuary, she has quite the talent for design. I’d know, she constantly takes me with her to visit” and looks directly at Kara. You smile bashfully at everyone, a little embarrassed at all of the attention. This is when Diana decides to chime in, “An animal sanctuary? Isn’t that just marvelous! Is it open?” You clear your throat and take a sip of water. “Not yet, we still are creating a few habitats. It is a really large space. So it’s still a work in progress, but hey! I’ll tell you when it will open.” You smile at her and Diana claps elated, saying she will take her for that offer. Conversation and laughter picks up again, but it is not long before Kara speaks up again and interrupts the nice vibe created, “So Jason, looking mighty good” At that, Conner rolls his eyes, Tim, Dick and Duke grimace. “Not again” whispered Steph. Jon facepalmed, Damian gave her a side eye and Cass let out a deep sigh. “Has me wondering, is this” she gestures to the two of you “legit orrrrrr…?” She carried on looking at him. Jason tensed up and cleared his throat. He looked around at everyone else. Everyone was waiting for his reaction, except for Alfred, who had changed chairs with Artemis, and the rest of the “adults”. They were all engaged in a conversation, already used to dinners filled with chaos, so they ignored them. Roy tried to hide his laugh in a cough and Artemis glared at him. “It’s pretty legit” answered Jason, and Kara let out a loud laugh.

“Please! Is this another ploy to make me believe you’re not single again? Babyyyy, that isn’t going to work this time” she said finishing with a sing song tone. To that you let out a laugh and she turns to look at you, “what’s so funny?” She asks, eyes narrowed and you answer, “hun, if someone has to create a false relationship in order to avoid you, Iiiiiiii don’t think they are the problem”. Roy let a soft chuckle, still trying to contain himself and Artemis gave you an approving look. Kara rolled her eyes and turned back to Jason, “When are you giving up baby? Like come on, you can’t avoid it, it’s in plain sight, we should be tog-“ Aaaaand you were now you were laughing incredulously. “Oh, Jason hasn’t told you it seems?” You interrupt. “Tell me what?” She asks with hostility, tired of you interrupting. “I’m his soulmate” you say smiling at her, smug look on your eyes. Kara’s jaw drops. Steph and Dick are looking excitedly at the situation, drinking the drama up. Cass smiles at her food, Conner nudges Tim to confirm and Tim nods. Jon is awestruck, and Damian is smirking at Kara (he truly found her annoying). Artemis raises her glass and tips it at you, smiling and Roy is looking at Jason with wide eyes. Kara scoffs and looks at Jason, who nods in confirmation and gets up, causing everyone to look at her. “I um I- if you excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom” she says with a tight smile and leaves. Roy, Conner and Dick bust out laughing, Tim looks up and says “it’s oveeeeer”, Damian is looking proudly at YN because she won (this boy loves to make everything a competition, excuse him), Steph starts to text Barbara on what she has missed and Duke and Cass keep on eating with small smiles. At the beginning, it was funny; seeing Jason struggle with letting her down softly and squirming but uncomfortably, but over time everyone grew TIRED of it. Sometimes she would make innuendos that made the rest gag and other times it was downright pitiful. They were glad you were here this time, and that you would stick around. Kara came back after a while and dinner finished shortly.

Stephanie, Tim, Cass, and Duke went back to the living room that had the consoles set and handed out the controls to Dick, Jason, Conner, Damian, and Jon. Kara seemed to not be in the mood for playing so she settled in one of the farther sofas, looking bored. You excused yourself in order to call you mom. You had promised that you would call her by FaceTime and see all of you family so that you spent a little bit of the holiday with them. You settled for one of the balconies of the Manor that had a sitting area. There, your family passed the phone around smiling at you, saying they missed you and that they can’t wait to see you on Christmas. You hadn’t mentioned that you were bringing Jason because you wanted it to be a surprise. You call Jason to come quickly and sort of introduce him to your family virtually. You cousins and tias absolutely ADORED him saying that you should bring him next time you visit. Jason looked at you confused and you placed you finger to your mouth, motioning to keep quiet and you winked. He caught on quickly that they didn’t know yet and he laughs. He hears his siblings call for him and kisses your head, saying goodbye to your family. You stay a little while more, just listening to your family and then hang up, promising your mom you’d text her when you got home. You stand up and lean on the rails. You will never get used to the view of the Wayne Gardens. you look over to the place where Alfred’s gazebo is getting built. Keeping him away from it has been a CHALLENGE and you giggle at the thought. You hear some steps behind you and turn around expecting to see Jason, only to find Kara. You tense up and turn back around. She stops next to you and turns to look at you without saying anything. You turn and smile at her politely, not knowing what else to do. “You truly do have the beauty of an amazon…” she says softly and you look down, muttering a soft thanks. She is still staring at you, almost as if she is trying to figure you out. “Definitely pretty, I mean pretty enough to get Wonder Woman to compliment you, smart, talented, and charming. Vigilante?” You shake your head, looking at her genuinely confused and curious, “no? Hmm, you look the part, wouldn’t have guessed” she says and you answer with, “I go to the gym, helps with anxiety” and she nods. She takes a deep breathe “you know, I have been chasing him for a few years now and not once has he looked at me the way he does to you. Lucky girl. Take care of him or else” she finishes with an obvious underlying threat there and frankly you got fed up. “Or else what, Kara? I am his soulmate and nothing is changing that, I would never hurt him and if you ever dare or even think of hurting me, this family, more specifically, Jason will have your ass so don’t make try to make threats that will not end good on your behalf.” You say looking at her dead in the eye. She steps back and says “and fierce, no wonder he loves you”. You both stare at each other, you looking at her directly in the eyes and her trying to avoid your eyes, until you hear some footsteps. You turn to see Jason come with two glasses and stops when he sees the two of you. Kara excuses herself and leaves, and Jason takes her place. “How long where you there?” You ask, suddenly embarrassed. “Long enough to hear you getting threatened and then you threatening her back. Honestly, I have absolutely no idea how you do it but you manage to win a stare down with Batman and a super. You sure you aren’t a wonder? We can check DNA” he jokes as he hands you the wine glass. You laugh and respond, “even if I do come from an island, mine is tropical and in the Caribbean. So sorry to disappoint, tienes tus islas mezcladas” you joke back and he laughs. Jason tugs you to one of the chairs and pulls you to his lap. You stay there in a comfortable silence, cuddling in the cool November breeze until you decide to break the silence. You sit up, still in his lap and look at him, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something…”

Jason looks up at you and smiles, caressing your arm, “No, Kara and I never dated. She has always had a crush on me, even back when I was Robin, but as she grew older, weeeeell she got bolder and well it grew even more annoying. You could tell by the reactions of the others. I normally ignore her and all, knowing it’s just a superficial crush, nothing deep. Even if it’s a little unnerving at times” he says and you laugh shaking your head. “It wasn’t about that” you say and Jason looks at you curiously, “then about what, preciosa? don’t tell me Roy scared you away with all of the stories, I am so sorry, I told him to behave but he listens with his ass so” he says and you laugh even louder. “Noooo, not about that, although now that you mention it, you should prepare yourself for all of the stories my family will have about me. There we will be even” you say and Jason smiles fondly, he was excited to go to your home and meet everyone. “I was wonderiiiing” you continue and he gives you his entire attention, “Since you practically live there already, iiiiiiif you’d like to move in with me?” You ask and Jason stays silent for a moment. You are nervous with his reaction. Was it too soon? Would this become a fight? What if- “I’d love to, mi amor.” He smiles brightly at you, takes both of you drinks, placing them at the table, and pulls you for a tight hug. “Love, I thought you’d never ask!” He says and you giggle.

You both decide to spend a few more moments together, cuddling and enjoying each other’s presence before Dick barges in, killing the mood. “As much as I hate to interrupt, we are going to play monopoly, just dance, charades, and clue aaand also restarting the Mario kart tournament so Bruce was wondering if you guys were coming?” You nod excitedly and the three of you headed back to where everyone else was. The rest of the night was filled it’s laughter, fun, and a lot of family time. You could get use to this.

___________________________________

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 12 days

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Opposite Sides Attract

by A1H2D3 Damian has gone back to the league. John wishes he didn't have to be the one to bring his crush to justice. Neither have much of a choice, at least from their own perspectives that is. Words: 1128, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 4 of BatFam AUs Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Batman: Death in the Family (Movie 2020), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Batman vs. Robin (2015), Batman and Superman: Battle of the Super Sons (Movie 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Jonathan Kent, Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, League of Assassins Members (DCU) Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lois Lane Additional Tags: Clark Kent is Superman, Jonathan Samuel Kent is a Ray of Sunshine, Jonathan "Jon" Kent Has Powers (Superman & Lois TV 2021), Jonathan Samuel Kent is Superboy, well superson, he choose the name because of Damian and I think that's cute, away back to the actual tags, Jonathan Samuel Kent Needs a Hug, Protective Jonathan Samuel Kent, Bisexual Jonathan Samuel Kent, Trans Male Character, it's Jonathan kent, apparently trans jonathan kent from the Batman series isn't a tag, Jonathan Samuel Kent Loves Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne-centric, Damian Wayne is Not Robin, well he was, it's complicated - Freeform, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne Meet in the League of Assassins, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, he learns his family isn't as kind as he once thought, Tim Drake and Damian Wayne are Siblings, Bad Parent Talia al Ghul, Past Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Rapist Talia al Ghul, Parent Talia al Ghul, BAMF Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Clark Kent Tries to Be a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Protective Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Tim Drake Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Resurrected Jason Todd, Jason Todd Deserves Better, The League of Assassins (DCU), League of Assassins Jason Todd via https://ift.tt/sUaqRJH

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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ultfreakme · 1 year

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What makes me more angry about the whole "Jon needs to be a child again" is that it doesn't really make any sense to do that now, like?????? how would that even work? he is almost 18 now, he has a boyfriend, that would be super creepy, and the most annoying part is that this is more about Damian than it is about Jon as a character, I'm so fed up with Damian fans, I'm sorry guys, but DC is not going to make Damian queer and make him date Jon, it's not happening, and I would love if DC stopped making this one shots stories of them in the past, it only fuels this people, It's time to make stories of them in the present, My dream story is to have a double date of JonJay and Damian and his girlfriend, I think it would be super fun.

Yessss say it!! This is all so true. Jon being aged down is more about Damian than Jon. Jon gets nothing out of being younger, all of his plots as a 10 year old was dependent on Damian or Clois. He never had a solo story like Damian back then, there was never enough investment in him alone, and frankly he wasn't bringing anything new to the table despite being the kid of a superhero like Superman, his backstory and motivation were just Clark's and his interest in journalism was all Lois(Which btw, never got utilized well so what was the point?). Now though, he's carrying two solos and has a character arc and supporting cast that is specific to Jon. His goals for being Superman are more complicated than "dad's doing it so I'll do it".

Controversial; I don't think people who want Jon aged down are fans of Jon as an individual character. When they do talk about him, they never mention the conflicts he has on his own(Goldie the cat dying, Eradicator & General Zod outright calling him and abomination, being seen as a future threat and weapon) He wasn't some chipper sweet sunshine baby all the time who 'helped heal' Damian amd is the light of his life or whatever. He was just as argumentative as Damian and they were bickering kids. I think the only part people miss is his dialogue with Damian. Jon genuinely loves Jay and they're compatible, Jay's literally made for Jon and they work well.

I wish they'd stop with the kid Jon stories too, the only one that I enjoyed was the Belle Reve one, because it showed exploration of his queerness a little and his introduction to it. Otherwise, the rest are pointless and are reiterating things we already know. Chances of Damian being queer are next to nothing, he's never had any queer coding intentions by his writers(unlike the other Robins, maybe not Duke, I don't think he's been written with queer coding either). On top of that, you can't have Superman dating a middle schooler.

And yeah Damian and Jon are still friends. This time, I think they're better, proper friends. Back then all they did was argue, now they're having deeper, meaningful conversations and helping each other's missions. We see them have conflicting views; Damian saying Jon being Superman is inevitable when Jon had talked about his hesitance as a Super, Damian and Jon disagreeing on how to approach facing the dark army in dark crisis).

I think right now, Jon's the most interesting he's ever been. I would really love a double date issue too! Sorta like a homage to batcat and clois's double date issue would be cute.

#jon kent #superman son of kal el #jonjay #jay nakamura #super sons #Damian wayne #jonatham samuel kent #jon el #jonathan kent #superman #superboy

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baambastic · 1 year

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Am I the only one who finds it weird that in “Battle of the Super Sons,” Damian is the only character who calls Jon by the shortened version of his name? Everyone else calls him ‘Jonathan’.

#even his mom and dad only call him Jonathan #idk it just seems kinda backwards #battle of the super sons #super sons #superman #damian wayne #jon kent #batman #superboy #dc robin #jonathan samuel kent #bring back Sunshine Jon #dc #dc comics #🐍

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ladycatofwinterfell · 11 months

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Father’s gentle hands

Summary: When Ned comes home to Winterfell he gets to feel a child of his kick for the first time.

I realised Ned never felt a baby kick in the womb until Sansa since he was away while Cat was pregnant with Robb and we all know what happened with Jon. So here’s early marriage nedcat fluff and Ned with his kids <33

Ned didn’t know why he felt a slight disappointment at that his wife didn’t meet him in the yard as he returned from Karhold. A moon’s turn he had been gone and though the weather had been unusually stable for that time of year in winter the trip had been no pleasure. Though why he had got through the journey home by imagining Catelyn meeting him as he rode through the gate he didn’t know.

Maybe because she was carrying his child. He had discovered so much happened in a moon’s turn when a woman was with child, surely he had missed something while he was away and he wanted to know what it was. It was the first time he paid so close attention to an unborn child, there seemed to be a lot he didn’t know.

He didn’t remember when his mother had carried his sister and younger brother, he hadn’t been there when Catelyn carried Robb. And Jon… well, he had come after it was all said and done.

“You wouldn’t know where Lady Catelyn is?” he asked the stable boy that took his horse as soon as he had his feet on the ground.

The boy shook his head.

“No, m’lord.”

Before Ned could say anything else a delighted yell could be heard and he turned to find his son running towards him. His absence hadn’t been as long as it felt like, but had Robb still not grown a little taller since Ned last saw him?

With a smile he scooped the boy up in his arms and held him up in the air.

“Father!” Robb squealed.

His little laugh was lovely. How Ned despised being away from home, how he despised not hearing Robb’s laugh for so long. His boy had the sunshine from the south and the north’s resilience.

“Robb!”

“You’re home!”

“Yes, I’m home.”

He put Robb back on the ground again, ruffled his mop of auburn hair with one hand.

“Did you do as I told you and kept the castle safe while I was away?” he asked.

Robb nodded, beaming. The pride would have been obvious from miles away.

“Me too!”

Only then did Jon make his presence known and Ned had to embrace him, as well. Ever the careful one, always a step behind his brother.

“My brave sons” he said as he ruffled Jon’s hair.

When he looked at them both there was a slight sting of sadness over that they could never truly be brothers. Not equal the way trueborn brothers were. Though as long as they were friends and there was no ill will between them he would be happy.

“Robb, do you know where your mother is?” he asked.

Now he had seen two of his children, he wanted to see the third. And he wanted to see Catelyn.

“The sept” Robb told him.

Idyn, the woman who most often attended to the boys, lengthened the answer a little.

“Lady Stark told me to bring your son to meet you as you arrived” she said. “She was busy.”

Ever since she found out she was with child Catelyn had prayed several times every day, and wouldn’t sway from that. It was most important to turn to the gods to keep the babe healthy, she had told him when he asked her.

“I’ll take the boys if you want to go to her, m’lord” Idyn then continued.

“That would be good, Idyn. Thank you.”

He would rather not set foot inside the sept though he could meet her outside.

Robb protested and wouldn’t agree to go with Idyn and Jon before Ned promised he would come to them afterwards. It was time for supper soon, he wanted nothing but to sup with his family after so long away from them.

So he made his way towards the sept. He was very rarely there, only when he needed Catelyn for something and she was there. He had been in there no more than twice since it was finished. That was her place, as the godswood was his. He needed not invade.

He felt like a fool when he stood there outside and did nothing but wait. People passed him, some looked like they wanted to ask what he was doing, but no one did. They just nodded towards him, said a polite greeting. Even though it wasn’t long he had to wait there it felt like an eternity.

Though all that was forgotten when the doors opened and Lady Catelyn stepped outside. The smile that lit up her face when she saw him made it all worth it.

“My lord” she said. “Do forgive me for not coming to you immediately, I was in the middle of my prayers.”

Just as he had suspected she had grown rounder since last he saw her, it was obvious even with all the clothing she wore to keep the cold off. It happened so quickly.

“There is nothing to forgive, my lady.”

She came to him and he got to lean down and kiss her cheek. The scent of her, of sweet flowers. He dared not embrace her, didn’t know if she wanted it, but as he straightened up again she took his hand, weaved their fingers together.

It made his heart flutter and he saw how a slight blush covered her cheeks.

“I’m happy to see you home” she said softly.

The sound of her voice was as lovely as she was.

“I’m happy to be home” he said to her.

If he had any luck there would be at least some time before he had to leave again.

“I believe our babe agrees.”

He didn’t have time to ask what she meant by that before she had moved his hand to rest against her stomach, putting her hand on top of it. And he felt a slight pressure against his palm from below it.

“It’s kicking” he said.

He heard himself how stupid it sounded when he said it with such wonder, but it was hard to care when he felt his child moving beneath his hand.

Never before had he felt a child of his moving before it was born. The world seemed to slow, he held his breath and his heart beat hard against his ribcage. When he thought of what he would return to during his travel he hadn’t even considered that. Yet it was as exciting, if not even more, as the rest of it. It was as if he had not truly realised he would have another child until then and there. He would once again be a father, his child was alive. It was there, kicking.

“It happened for the first time just a few days after you left, it’s stronger now” Catelyn told him.

The look on her face was as proud as Robb’s had been earlier.

Once again she weaved their fingers together, that time while his hand was splayed across her stomach. The kicking ceased and came to a stop, but the feeling in Ned’s chest didn’t do the same.

“Our child is strong” he said.

The feeling made his voice sound weird.

“It is” she agreed.

She looked at him and she looked so happy, her eyes sparkling. He must have been smiling back at her, it felt like he did.

When he kissed her she kissed him in return, raised a hand to his cheek. She was so soft, the mother of his children. Several children, two of them.

Her cheeks had turned even redder when they parted and she turned her face downwards. But she didn’t seem unhappy in any way, and her hand remained on his even as the child didn’t kick anymore.

“Every time I have felt it kick I have longed for when I would get to share it with you” she mumbled.

“Is that so?”

Catelyn had longed for him, longed to let him feel their child moving.

She glanced up at him, her eyes still gleaming.

“When I carried Robb you weren’t with me, now you are. I want to share what I can with you.”

“Now I’ll be here.”

He knew he couldn’t promise to always be there, that he wouldn’t have to leave again, but he also knew he wanted what she could share. He wanted to be there. With her and Robb and Jon and the child.

“I was going to eat a small something, would you keep me company?” she asked.

“That I would gladly do, I’m feeling a little hungry myself.”

#stark family feels babey #ned in the middle of falling in love with his wife and being a dork babey #ned stark #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned x cat #my fic

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jasontoddssuper · 1 year

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💕+ Summer Kent from DC!! I’ve seen them a bunch but never properly asked :)

Alr let's goooooo Summer's lore:

He was born in Metropolis to a dominican couple that divorced when he was a baby and his birth mom got custody of him with his dad pretty much abandoning him until he started occasionally visiting him when he was 10.They were both abusive to him in the classic 'cishet and neurotypical parents with a queer and neurodivergent kid' way and his mom was also racist to him by doing things such as insulting his apperance(his mom being a white woman while his dad was a black man).Summer looked up to Superman for as long as he could remember and after realizing his parents didn't love him,started dreaming he'd save him from them(*'Waiting for Superman' starts playing*)

When he was 10,Lex killed his parents while on rampage in a giant Lexcorp robot across the city and kidnapped him to inject him with the dna of the last Krytofang,a kryptonian species i created which are pretty much dragons but with telepathy.The reason for this was to turn him into a weapon to finally kill Clark,who found Summer after a few days of him being experimented on and took him in,becoming his adoptive dad and Lois his adoptive mom and baby Jon his little brother.Clark and Lois pulled him out of public school to get Lana to homeschool him so he wouldn't get bullied anymore and Clark started training him to use his Kryptofang powers with info from the Fortress of Solitude and that led to him becoming his sidekick under the name 'Sparks',as a reference to his new family being sparks of hope in his life(Jimmy included)and his fire powers.Lex did a smear campaign against his sidekick persona and that combined with his trauma from watching his parents die made him become a basket case with anger issues and violent tendencies

He meets Jason when they're both 11 thanks to Clark taking him on a mission with him and they have a rocky start due to their opposite personalities but quickly become best friends.Jason is a positive influence on him and helps him become more of an 'ideal' hero.He also becomes friends with Eddie via him and Clark asks Dick and Kory to mentor him!!Dick was Summer's first crush and he gets one on Kory too,with a mix of jealousy,but dosen't realize he's bi until he's 14.When he's 15,Jason realizes he's in love with Summer and Dick convinces him to confess by asking him to be his date to a school dance but Ditf happens and Summer shuts down for a good while

On june 1st,he flies to Gotham to visit his grave and gets into a fight with Mr Freeze who accidentally kills him by hypothermia.When Summer is dead,he enters his headspace and meets the ghost of the last Krytofang and they have a conversation that ends with him naming them 'Fantasma' and they convince him to cope with what he's been through in a healthy way.Clark ressurects him with the Kryptonian Regenaration Matrix using a piece of his hair,which makes him grow pink and yellow kryptofang scales around his nose and he also lost a few fingers to frostbite so he has prosthetics now,and him and Lois send Summer off to stay with Martha and Jonathan for a few months.Doing farm work,learning how to bake from his abuela and getting into drawing greatly help his mental health and by the time the Death of Superman/Reign of the Supermen comes along,he's become a ray of sunshine mom friend who's super feminine.During this time,he meets Rose and they have an enemies to vitriolic close friends to lovers to exes arc and Fantasma helps him learn how to use his unlocked telepathy

The KRM had been destroyed briefly before Clark's death but John and Summer manage to fix it together after forming a parent-child bond and they bring Clark back with it.Kon and Summer clashed a lot,especially because Kon had been created to replace his Papí,but do end up coming to love eachother like the siblings they are.He also starts loving video games when he goes back to living with his parents due to playing them with Jon.Summer resents Tim for replacing Jason and the same goes regarding Stephanie at first until the two of them and Cass got to know eachother better and became best friends.Thanks to the girls and Kon being trans people who are all gnc in their own ways,Summer's egg cracks and he makes a new identity for himself as 'Ember' and makes himself a femme costume with Dick and Kory's help.He also gets a sideshave and dyes his remaining bangs light pink and Clark gives him a kryptonian name to matching his new middle name:Va-El,based off 'Valentino'

He does many big heroic deeds,becomes hailed as second to only Clark himself as Metropolis' hero and i haven't planned it out yet but Mia,Chris and Jon Lane get introduced around this time and Duke is the 5th Robin in this verse instead of Damian!!Summer also gets a job at his verse's equivalent to McDonalds AKA McSupers LMAOOOOO.His plot in Utrh is that Bruce called him to Gotham to help deal with Red Hood,not telling him that the reason was that he has a feeling it's Jason and hoped he could get through to him,and him and Jason get into a fight where Jason eventually recognizes Summer and takes off his helmet,shocking him.Jason tries to go in for a hug,smiling and saying how much he missed them,but they fly off in tears at his best friend becoming a villain

They try avoiding him but he's always on their mind after that so Fantasma forms a mind link between them and Summer and Jason start having telepathic conversations every day for months and sometimes pay visits to eachother in their city's,reforming their best friendship that they'd thought they'd lost.Jason also gets his confidence in his feelings for Summer back and starts flirting with them all the time to show it,which flusters them and that they deny enjoying.Damian comes in and Summer takes up the a 'cool big sibling' role to him and he's one of the first people Damian genuienly befriends.Jason's an influence on them once more but this time in the opposite direction-He makes them more sardonic and brutal,leading to the Metropolis media framing Ember as 'evil all along' and Clark,Lois and Jimmy try to fight this but it hurts Summer so much that they finally join the Outlaws as a new vigilante identity,complete with a new costume:Ignite.The Outlaws in their verse are Jason,them,Rose,Eddie,Kyle,Artemis and Thaddeus,with the first four being the founding team and the last three joining in later

The team becomes found family over the course of Rhato and Summer eventually has an extremely bad day with the stress of vigilante work and missing the Superfam to boot and Jason comforts them,which leads to them kissing and having sex.Summer,dense as ever,still thinks he's not in love with Jason and they agree to be friends with benefits but act more like a couple than anything.Halloween comes along and they sneak out in (non-hero) costumes to take Jon trick or treating and stop by McSupers on their way back to the Outlaws base,where Summer finally has their love epiphany and bluters out a confession when they arrive home.Jason kisses them and confesses back,starting off with his realization at 15,and they finally start officially dating.The Outlaws disband on good term shortly afterwards

Clark ends up in a coma after saving Jon from Ultraman so Summer takes up the Superman mantle in the mean time,making their own costume that takes after their Papí's but also has their own touch on it with the other Superfam girls' and John's help.They also start mentoring Damian's Teen Titans generation with Jason,Stephanie and Duke and the team consists of Damian,Jon,Maya,Surren,Colin,Nell,Maps and Kathy.After a long time,Clark wakes up and Summer goes back to being Ember,with it being common knowledge that they were Superman and thus making Metropolis regret what they did to them,finally seeing them as the hero they are and loving and respecting him just as much as they do Clark.Also...Jaysumm have a daughter HDHDHDHR IK I'M CRINGE IK but her name is October because they started dating on halloween and she's a trans girl,pastel goth,has Mabel Pines Brand AutismTM,becomes Batgirl when she gets older and her parents call her 'Dragonita' <3

Edit:Two new bits!!They're are now 3 more Todd-Kent kids(found under my 'Los Todd-Kents' tag)and Jason gives New Ember a pink domino mask to symbolize him being happy with and accepting both sides of himself :>

#spellbook-gayboy #summer kent #dc #real self shipping hours #askxaquestion

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bohemian-nights · 1 year

Text

Spring

Word Count: ~6,946

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Nettles

Warnings ⚠️: Spoilers for Fire & Blood; age gap relationship; minor smut

Description: To be used and discarded as if she were no better than a dirty rag. A thing to be possessed and thrown away once she no longer was of use. One can be wanted with great passion and then abandoned by the end of the moon. Tossed aside and on to the next without a thought spared.

AN: This story takes place from 135 AC onward following the events of the Dance. I’ve also aged up Nettles a smidge and basically kept Daemon’s show age for reasons.

There are a couple of words, and there meaning, written in the old tongue of the First Men in ASOIAF, but there are barely any actual translations so I settled on using Gaelic for it 🤷🏽‍♀️

Part 1: The Visitor, Part 2: An Impossible Truth, Part 4: Birth , Chapter 5: Life

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136 AC-Mountains of the Moon

With one season coming to a close, another begins. Winter had come and gone. A long one it had been. The end of the season of the dead. Where nothing grows and life stands at a still had come to an end. So the world turns. Spring was awakening. The season of change. A time for new beginnings. For sunshine. For laughter. For flowers, crops, and bountiful feasts. For a new life. A golden age.

With spring knocking on their door Daemon Targaryen had asked one small woman to marry him. The woman in question would be lying if she had said it had not shocked her. Marriage was a convention she had not expected to embark upon, least of all with a prince. Albeit an exiled one he was a prince and the institution was a foreign concept in every way. A marriage built upon protection, fidelity, and truth was an even more strange concept. A pure-hearted union. Simply for their own pleasure. Without guile or for the purpose of ambition. Not many can say they have undertaken such a journey.

His intent was murmured into the quiet night at first. While she was sleeping. The verge of sleep mostly. Spoken in Valyrian. Never the common tongue. It was natural in that way. She would expect any less from him. Occasionally he would be so bold as to ask or rather reverently declare while they found themselves in a most intimate position.

“Issa byka ābrazȳrys.” My little wife. If she recalled her Valyrian correctly in her rapturous haze. Breathing into the skin under her ear before he affectionately nipped at the sensitive organ as she rode him. He was always more vocal when she was riding him. Especially as she gripped his white strands to bring his hot mouth to hers. His thrusts up into her sopping cunny increasing in intensity as she spasmed around him. Bringing them to their peak.

Nettles did her best to explain it away. Plenty of men say things that they don’t really mean when their blood ran high. Hunger after being deprived of what one adored. Maybe some sentimentality. That’s what it was, passion. Passion had overtaken him. She tried to convince herself that was all that it was. She was sure of it. Until he made hints outside of the cover of darkness or when they were trapped in ardent moments of complete bliss.

“Your mountain man should have taken better care of you, Netty.” Daemon had huffed out when a certain Vale man left after visiting Sheepstealer to give him what would soon become the dragon's lunch. The old prince's violet eyes had hardened as he stared down Jon's retreating figure. Nettles had to bite her lip to hold back her own laughter.

“I share your bed, my prince.” It was what she had said to Daemon the first time her prince had met Jon. The path from his father's farm to their lodgings was clear enough for a visit. Both men startled at the other. They hid it poorly. For her sake, each managed to grumble out greetings and offers of friendship, but Nettles did not miss the way both pairs of violet and near-black eyes had been set to stone in cool inspection.

She planted a kiss on the scars that ran down his neck in placation. “There is no need to be jealous.” He had protested at the accusation. Daemon Targaryen was not jealous. He insisted upon that. He was better than lesser men. Than Jon. Nonetheless, he had leaned into her touch. Seemed to take comfort in it the way Sheepstealer did whenever she paid the wild dragon with affectionate scratches upon his scaly drown hide.

Jon. That’s how the prospect of their marriage became a reality that she could not easily be dismissed. The vale man’s visits to their home were infrequent, but enough of an occurrence to irritate the Rogue Prince. A tinge of ire whenever Jon momentarily captured her attention, with Daemon's hand on some part of her person mind you, with some trivial tale or made her laugh with a riddle he had come across. Or how Sheepstealer seemed to not mind the attention paid to him by the dark-haired Vale man. Jealousy that a lesser man had not done all as he should.

Jealousy was the way of men and women. Nettles was not without her own jealousy. Her prince had been gone for five years. There was much trouble that he could get up to, but Daemon had kept to his own bed as well. He had reassured her of it.

“What reason would I have had to do that?” He had spent most of his time healing from his wounds. In any case, his mind would always turn back to her. He had only wanted one woman even if he only remembered glimpses of her in his recovery. Even in half madness and misery, he had wanted Netty.

It would not do to slack his desires elsewhere. He could not. Not when he craved one so sweet. There was really no room for envy of phantom women that did not exist Nettles supposed. They belonged to each other in flesh and spirit alike. A tug. A pull. They could not be parted no matter what separated them once they had collided.

Daemon did not intend to treat her as Jon had. He had Nettles and he let her slip through his fingers. Of course, the Rogue Prince was grateful for that fact. However, Netty deserved to be properly looked after. Cared for. Loved even if not by his own hand.

Nettles was a proud girl. Quiet as she went about her way. Not making so much noise, but making herself known. She felt things with her whole being. She had a hard time believing herself worthy of unadulterated joy, but she was.

“I took care of myself, my prince.” She believed she had done a decent job of it. She had always done so. Nettles had taken care of herself for most of her twenty and five years on earth. It was only at Maidenpool that she had rest from minding her own. From constantly worrying about herself. She had Daemon for that. His tender care. Worrying over her. Minding her.

“You have, but that does not mean that you should have to go about life alone.” He went to cup her cheek. Tracing the scar upon the bridge of her nose with affection. Before placing a kiss on the old wound. “You are more than deserving of being cherished issa ōños.” My light. Cherish her the old prince did. He would always do so. She shouldn’t doubt that. He had given her no reason to, but his actions a moon later gave her pause.

“Marry me.” The proposal was spoken in the common tongue this time. Walking down a quiet lane on a quest for thistles, flowers, and the like that scattered the glen to decorate their little cottage. Nettles grew a few bushels of lady’s lace and lavender in her garden, but she had also preferred a wild bloom. There was beauty to be found in the unmolested nature of the earth's bounty.

She had stood frozen in place. Her ears began to ring. She couldn’t move as the pale prince gifted her with a warm smile. Running circles into the hand he had placed in his own. Her breath had left her body and raced back in as he spoke the words again. Taking a gillyflower from her basket to place between her dark coils. “Marry me Netty.”

Netty took a breath in. Briefly closing her eyes to steady herself. Trying to regain some sense of reality. “I do not plan on sending you away.” Ever. Nettles had expressly no intention of such. She valued his companionship. Basked in it too much to do some. She wanted as much time with him as the Gods allowed and then some, but she was not without her hesitance. Her own insecurities making themselves known.

“All the same.” He held fast to her hand. Bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on the back of the soft brown skin. “I want you as my wife for my own pleasure.” Want. Daemon Targaryen was a man full of want. A marriage was no less than his other wants.

Marriage was a thing of dread. The small brown woman had been taught that truth, with great vigor. Rid of the dreams of knights in shining armor rescuing fair maidens in peril before her first bleeding. A thorough education in the underbelly of Driftmark. No one was coming for her.

She had seen the working girls around her. Seen the men they dealt with. How they neglected their own wives for those girls that worked the docks. How they too would be replaced. The cycle goes around and around like the waning and waxwings of the moon.

She imagined her own mother. The circumstance of her birth remained a mystery, but there could be no doubt that her mother had been abandoned. No one meant to find themselves in such a disastrous predicament. With child. With no man in sight to claim the babe. To claim her.

To be used and discarded as if she were no better than a dirty rag. A thing to be possessed and thrown away once she no longer was of use. One can be wanted with great passion and then abandoned by the end of the moon. Tossed aside and then on to the next without a thought spared.

Dread. Apprehension and dread ensnared her. Voices playing over in her head. Girlhood dreams. Girlhood lost to the ravages of time and anguish. A life of terror and distrust of the unknown good or bad. Of hope for something more.

Even marriage did not keep a woman safe from harm or heartache. It never had. Nettles was not naive. She knew Daemon. Want. He wanted her now. He had married someone from want before. The Rogue Prince and his appetites. Marriage had not stopped them before. Had he outgrown them? Was he to do the same with her?

Three wives he had before her. Three. There was also the lady Mysaria. He had taken them all under his cloak of protection. He had taken her under his care and sought to make her his wife. The wife of a man who was capable of such cruelty to those closest to him.

Her distress was made plain upon her face. In the stiffness of her person who had yet to look the man before her in the eye. Daemon did not miss how long she stood in her panic. Daemon sought to ease her worry. To take hold of the scared girl who had been treated most cruelly and deprived in her youth and coax out his Netty.

“You won’t be rid of me, sweet girl.” He had made a promise to her. All those moons ago. Till death do us part. That’s what he wanted. Forces sought them apart. Why could he not be happy with that? Could she be happy with that? The only way that this would end. He intended to die in her bed one way or another. Marriage or no marriage, why not give in to the girl in her? The one who believed in the songs in spite of everything she had seen.

He wanted her in every way. He wanted her. Yes, but it was more than that. He adored her. “I love you Netty.” Unconditional devotion.”I know what you are thinking in that little head of yours, but I want you.” He would die for her. He would live for her. “If you’ll have an old prince, marry me.” His hand never let go of hers. A leap into the dark he was asking for.

Life is not without its risks. It is the sum of it. For if there is no risk there is no reward. Where would she be if she had not claimed Sheepstealer? If she had never Driftmark? If she had stayed in the madam's manse? Those red dusky rooms echoing the sounds of lust. Where would she be if she had not saved herself? If she had not met Daemon? Been loved by him. Loved him in return. Mayhaps there was truth to be found in risks. In dreams.

Nettles married him. Let herself slip into the dreams of her girlhood she thought long dead. Dreams before she had been made to realize the world as it was, but that hopeful feeling that had been made true was not something to dread. She shed her fear.

She was more than that. She had to make that promise to herself. Allow herself to be free. Fear could not hold her. Nettles would not be the one to stand in her own way. Allow the death of serenity. Of joy. Of all the promises that the future holds. She would not stop her own happiness. Their happiness.

It was a small ceremony. Intimate. Not in a sept in the way of the seven or in the way of the Valyrian custom surrounded by the smoke and ash of Dragonstone or upon Driftmark’s rocky shores. Daemon had already had that. Twice over. Thrice. Nettles would rather not repeat his past unions herself. No, it was entirely something of their own. Something of them and for them.

An elder chieftain of the Burned Men presided over their nuptials. A man named Corrett. A bear of a man grizzled by battles and the years, but merry when roused. He had taken a liking to Daemon. Naturally after threatening to tie him naked to an ox cart and drag the cart up a mountain until his back was stripped of its flesh if harm should ever come to Nettles when they first met.

A fate which Daemon said he would gladly meet though he was more than likely to subject himself to Sheepstealer’s wrath in his grief over harming his Netty. Of course, the Nettles thought both men were being overdramatic in the way men often are. It would never come to that. She knew that her soon-to-be husband would throw himself in the line of Sheepstealer’s fire than ever lay a hand upon her.

In the time that he had known him, Corrett had seen the way the Targaryen man doted on the little brown woman who had taken her place among them storming into their life with her dragon. How he’d forgo his own comfort for hers. Their fire witch. The elder man observed him enough to know what he would do for her.

The ceremony was held at dusk. Under the cover of the dying winter days light. The vows were simple. Exchanged under a great oak tree canopy. Her groom hadn’t strayed his violet gaze from her, she would have blushed if she could. Would have stumbled over her own words if she had not known him better. He held her steady in his warmth. Nettles had not wanted anything else nor had Daemon. Her husband. She was his wife. His wife. Man and wife in the eyes of Gods and men alike.

The feast afterward was a lively affair. Half the clan had turned up to their glen to wish them well and bless their union. Mead, ale, and a spread befitting if not royalty a lord was prepared in their honor. Merriment and cheer filled the cool early spring night's air. “I ought to take you away before anyone gets any ideas.” To that, she let out a round of belly laughter. She was finding it hard to contain her giddiness.

It was over all too soon and not soon enough. A host of the men in attendance as well as a few of the ladies called for the bedding. Corretts eldest son reached to pull her away, but Nettles found herself thrown over Daemon’s shoulder. No one was to touch his bride. Least of all to undress her and gaze upon her naked flesh apart from himself. Nettles had been a giggling mess by the time her dragon man had to carry her back into their cottage.

They hadn’t reached their bedroom before her new husband gently removed the flower crown that the children had gifted her from her dark coils. Her dress was not so lucky. The old prince practically ripped her white frock in two. A fact which Daemon sheepishly apologized for when he saw the state of her gown the next morn. It was a comely thing. Elegant despite its simplicity. Shalla had spent the better part of a moon making it for her. Nettles’ mending abilities had greatly improved, but her dressmaking abilities left much to be desired.

Besides, the older woman would have never allowed her small friend who she likened to a daughter to make her wedding dress. No, the little bride deserved a suitable dress. Nettles' cheeks were warm when she asked the older woman to mend the frock a fortnight after her nuptials. “Men are the same, lowborn and high alike.” She had let out a cackle while her niece Bess stood horrified at the state of it. Her eyes darted from the ruined dress and back to her friend.

Daemon took her on their floor in front of the hearth. If she had not insisted that she would like the comfort of their feather bed they would have remained on that mountain of pillows he had pulled from various chairs and settees till the following afternoon. She was completely ravished the next day. Warm as a bundle of barn cats. Exhaustion seeped into her bones in the most delightful way. Leaving her boneless and having to pull Daemon off her whose tongue as well as other parts of him seemed to want to take up a permanent residence between her thighs.

Everything had been done in the proper way. In the proper order. Albeit unexpected, but Nettles found herself living a life she could not dream of. That she dared not to until it happened to her. Little Netty. For that, she had to let out a little breathless giggle when she caught her reflection or thought of her new life.

And so began the new season of life. As is often found, life begets life. It should have come as no shock to Nettles when she found herself once more in a delicate condition. Four moons into her marriage and she found herself unmistakably with child. A babe that they would soon be welcoming in their little glen. A spring babe. Their babe.

There had been no denying the signs of the new life growing in her womb or the reasons for such a thing to occur. Nettles had stopped taking moon tea or any other tonic which could have prevented her current circumstance, not a fortnight after they were joined as man and wife.

Daemon would not be mindful to take precautions. He would have no reason to. It was a woman’s job. Nettles job. She had tried even after ridding herself of her tinctures. Tried pulling herself off him when she had reached her peak only for the man to flip her on her back. “I’ve waited five years for you.” He panted into her ear. “I want all of you. Issa ōños. Issa byka ābrazȳrys.” My light. My little wife. Her protests died when he reached a hand down to her button to bring her to another peak. She would never deny them their satisfaction. They had earned it. It was hard to be away from him. All of him. Nettles would have that.

She had no idea what possessed her to do such things when she knew what it could possibly lead to. To continue to do so, but she did. It was a dangerous gamble. Playing with fire. Tempting fate. Her only defense was that surely Daemon could not get her with child. The Gods had blessed them enough for one lifetime.

The Warrior gave him the strength to fight on. The Stranger saw fit to spare the rogue prince from death. The Maiden kept him for her. Healed him. The Crone's mercy had seen to return him to her. Guiding him towards her. No doubt convincing the Warrior and the Father that Nettles would have no others except her prince. Sweet little Netty deserved joy. The Gods had done more than their duty. They were to see to others, but it seems the Mother had seen to bless her yet.

He had fallen from Caraxes. Yes a man could get a woman with his babe at any age and she was young enough, but he had been injured. On the way down he had been pierced by his own dragon's claws. Caraxes talons had gone straight through him. Tearing bone and flesh. It was not possible. Nettles' mistake. Her second chance. Forgetting the impossible seemed to turn into a very real possibility when it came to them.

Nettles had given herself a moment of respite from worry. Letting herself enjoy all that the Gods had gifted her. A babe. It was a dizzying feeling. A happy one. Or it should be. A babe was a joyous gift. When it is wanted. When one has long sought for life to make a home in its mother’s womb,

The babe was wanted. There could be no doubt of the feelings of the expectant mother. In spite of Nettles' apprehension about her maternal abilities she wanted her babe, but how would Daemon fare hearing such news? Fear. Fear still had its grip upon her.

He has four children. A little voice crept into her ear once more. Like a snake slithering up her spine to whisper poison that infected her very mind. He has no need for more, you silly girl. Why would he want more? He’s an old man. He wants to live the remainder of his days in peace. With you Nettles. Just with you. This was not the reason why he married you, stupid girl. Life isn’t like a song. You can’t have everything You think like a child!

Daemon Targaryen may have taken you for a wife, but he does not wish to soil his blood with yours. Bastard blood. The blood of an exotic whore. The blood of whoever’s seed had spilled into her. You are not a child Nettles. You ought to have known better. You ought to have not done what you did. This is your mess. You brought this upon yourself. She had made a mess of her own fate.

Her future had always been a void. A black pit that Nettles did not want to find the bottom of. Scared of what she would find down there. On the road ahead. She had tried to not let her fear control her, but we can not so easily get rid of our fears.

Her fear had so long been her enemy and her friend. Mayhaps she never would. It would cling to her like a second skin. Her first skin. No matter what happened she would wait for it all to come crashing down upon her. The brown skinny dirty orphan girl from Hull would always remain under the well-loved woman. Lurking in the shadows. Filling her with doubt real or imagined.

“Tis best to tell him lass.” Shalla had warned her when she had lost her balance tending to her garden. The older woman knew the signs. Nettles could not hide from her. She had been with her through that fateful pregnancy and helped her to deliver her boy. She knew her stubborn friend and Nettles knew she was right. It was another fortnight when she was left with no choice, but to tell her husband the truth.

The hill tribes of Mountains of the Moon celebrated the official return of spring with fervor. The various clans would put aside their differences to come together to bask in the return of the season of plenty. Erecting a makeshift camp in an empty valley in which they would gather in revelry. Spring was a time for jubilation. After the long brutal winter, there was much to give thanks to the Gods for.

They had been invited as guests of honor for the equinox festivities. Sheepstealer was supposed to light the pyre for a fire ritual to usher in wonderous bounties, fair weather, and fairer times. The visiting children were looking forward to seeing the brown dragon. As would Sheepstealer who enjoyed their fusing over him. Winter storms had led to irregular visits. It would be a treat for all. Except Daemon nearly forbade their attendance.

“You need to rest Netty.” Her morning sickness had been in full swing and showed no signs of stopping. She had worried him sick. He had thought she had come down with the winter fever. Not being able to stomach eating or even simply standing for too long before she took to their bed. Staying in the confines of their bed chambers for otherwise she found herself easily winded even when not emptying what little she managed to down into her chamber pot. She was far too prone to dizzy spells to do anything but rest, yet still, she tried. Nettles was not one to sit idly by.

She appreciated her husband's concern for her health, she was in part to blame for it by keeping him in the dark about her growing condition, but she had to hold her ground. Nettles would and could not disappoint the clan that had so graciously welcomed her among them.

She would not let them down if it was in her power to do so. Nettles had built a life in the Mountains of the Moon for herself. She had her duty. Daemon would not hold her back from it if she was truly up to it. Though they were to go back if not. At the first sign of her feeling unwell. He would not have his little wife over-exert herself. So with that, they climbed upon Sheepstealer’s back and set off.

They were almost immediately swarmed by children when Sheepstealer landed in a packed valley not a stone's flight away from their glen. Cries of mother could be heard in the old tongue. Máthier. A title of honor that the Burned Men bestowed upon her. They had sought to do the same with her new husband, “Shall we call him athair, máthier?” Father, mother. They questioned. Some with wide eyes others with a slight teasing smirk, waiting for an answer. The man had balked and turned white when Nettles told him its meaning. Dragon Lord was unanimously settled upon instead. Daemon did not seem to mind it.

A small dark-haired pale skinny girl who could be no more than seven name days reached out for her. Taking her to change into a dress for the ceremony that she and her friends had diligently made for her. Daemon followed their trail. He refused to part from her side. Watching her like a hawk.

The girl had dragged her across the crowded field with surprising strength. Her nausea was not helped by the brisk pace of their gait and soon she found herself tearing her arm away from the girl's grip to retch out the contents of her stomach, a meager late breakfast of toast, a few mulberries, and some ginger tea, into the grass. “I’m sorry máthier.” Mother. She had begun to cry. Babbling out apologizes. Believing her to be the cause of her sickness. The girl had to be carried back to her tent.

Daemon took a hold of her forearm to help her up from the ground. His face held a look of dichotomy. Of part worry and part chastisement upon his pale brow. Nettles knew that he would make them leave. She had broken her end of the bargain, but Shalla arrived from where she stood several feet away before her husband could suggest they fly back home.

“Let’s have a lie-down.” The older woman gave her a small smile while leading the way into a nearby tent. Handing her a cup full of mud-brown liquid once they had situated Nettles. It smelled like the earth. Nearly made her gag. “It’ll soothe your stomach,” Shalla muttered under her breath as she downed the bitter drink. Tutting out that her flying had upset her more, casting a pointed look the young dragon rider's way as she pulled back the leather flap. Leaving the newlyweds alone.

“I’m pregnant,” Nettles spoke barely above a whisper. She could not lie to him. It killed her too. To see the distress she caused him when she could remedy it. It would be a wasted effort to continue on so. She would not be able to hide her condition for much longer. She had not grown much, but it would be a matter of weeks before Daemon himself would know.

“Then I shall have the pleasure of two of you to contend myself with.” A grin lit up his face. That boyish look she loved took over. Daemon bent down to place a kiss upon her still-flat belly. Resting his head on where their babe lay underneath whispering to him in Valyrian while she brought a hand down to stroke his white strands. Nettles did not know what she had expected, but she should have known he would not be cross with her. Relief flooded through her, if only temporarily. The weight of her inadequacies came back with vengeance. Weighing her down with each passing moon. The days were long and there was plenty of anguish that filled them.

It was not an easy pregnancy. It was not as the first time. This one took its toll upon her. Her sickness never left her as with her son it had never come. The days left her exhausted. Her belly grew at an alarming weight. Twice that of her son.

It was not in her husband's actions that consumed her with doubt. No, Daemon had been as the father itself. Daemon seemed more than eager. He had taken to speaking to her belly. To the babe lying underneath her skin. The worry remained because of her own imagination.

“You are more than like having twins lass.” Daemon looked smug when Shalla confirmed their suspicions seven moons into her pregnancy. The man was sure that they were being blessed by the Gods with two babes. Said that Netty had carried as Laena had with Baela and Rhaena.

The man had been as the Father himself. More than eager at the prospect of their babes. Busying himself with the building of their new home when he had not insisted on waiting upon her hand and foot. They couldn’t stay in the cottage they currently occupied. The little cottage that Nettles called home for the past five years. It was big enough for one or two occupants, but it was not fit for growing little ones.

Jon had volunteered to help along with some of the clan men. The sheepherder's son and Daemon had warmed up to each other. They were on friendly terms now. Jon seemed to enjoy hearing about her husband’s war stories in the Stepstones and the Rogue Prince enjoyed recounting them. They were gone for most of the days on the other side of her glen. Which left Nettles plenty of time to herself when Bess or Shalla were not dropping at odd times. Plenty of time to turn her mind over. To think. Of the past and the future.

She did not like the thought of twins. The expectant mother decidedly did not want twins. Twins. Targaryen twins. Nothing good had come from it. The choices made. Sacrifices. Rejection. Death.

A son for a son. That was what she had been told when asked. How he justified it. A prince for a prince, The price paid in war. War. They were at war. They had both survived it. Their paths mayhaps never have crossed without it. Life from the destruction. The carnage of the dance. Separated and then lost. Blood spilled. Those twins had not survived it. Innocent babes they were. Gone before their lives had begun.

Nettles could worry about retribution. That Daemon would pay for his crimes with his head or the rest of his life spent in servitude and penitence with the Night's Watch. That her new stepson would take him away from her so that those twins and all the others who the Rogue Prince had harmed throughout the years would see justice. Perhaps that was what should happen, but it would be a worry wasted.

Apart from the septa’s and the leptons at both the motherhouse and the septry Daemon spent his recovery, no one outside these mountains and Baela knew he lived. No one could be certain where Nettles herself flew off to when they last saw her upon Sheepstealer’s back. No one apart from Baela, her family, and the Burned Men knew that they were here together. Their friends and family would not tell a soul who meant them harm where they could be found. They were safe from those ghosts in this life at least.

Another set of twins plagued her. It was not their fate that haunted her. No, it was their upbringing. Daemon’s twins. Sweet girls they were, but one stood out from that of her sister. Targaryen in looks, but in spirit? To girls could not be so different. In Daemon's eyes, it was easy to see which twin her husband favored. Both were all Valyrian, yet the younger was not Targaryen enough. What would her children be to him with her for a mother?

“What will you do if the babes look like me?” The chief of her concerns brought to the forefront of her mind along with discomfort. Nettles placed a hand upon her belly soothing the babes within who had taken that moment to make their presence known. They were getting more restless.

Her stress over matters did not help. She had thought that her labors began last week as she ate lunch with Sheepstealer, who had coiled himself around her in the open field, but they were just false contractions.

Nettles and her husband sat on opposite ends of the hearth in their front room. She spread out upon the settee with Daemon sitting in the armchair he claimed for his own. Whittling down a piece of wood to create some toy for the babe. A hobby of his he had told her that he took up during his time in the Stepstones whenever he wished to clear his mind. He was putting it to use again.

At eight moons pregnant that was the way that Nettles spent most of her time. What occupied her days. Sitting. Sitting and fretting. About everything that had happened. About everything that could yet happen. That would.

“I hope they have your lovely face, Netty.” Her husband continued to fiddle away with his woodwork. Peeling back the layers of the bark in his hand. It was taking on the shape of a dragon. Absent-minded in the way he replied. His violet eyes concentrating on the task at hand Not sparing her a glance. Fiddling away.

“Not my face Daemon.” He turned to face her at the sound of his name. She rarely used his given name. Always my prince, or as of late, husband. Only when something upset her did she dare to utter his name from her honey mouth.

“My hair.” She took a breath. “My eyes.” Her voice began to shake. “My skin.” Dark nearly black hair, brown eyes, brown skin. Decidedly not Valyrian. If there was only me you saw would you love them? Nettles began to worry her lip while she drew circles into her belly feeling a round of kicks and a dull pain that she shrugged off. If they weren’t Valyrian enough for you, would you love them?

Daemon had children. Four children. Four Valyrian children. Of unquestionable Valyrian lineage going back to old Valyria itself. The blood of Old Valyria. Pure Unmolested. What was Nettles to that?

“They will be my children.” Daemon put down his woodwork. He looked as if she had struck across his face. The look of quiet contentment on his pale face vanished. The lines that marked his skin deepened. “My blood flows through their veins.”

“I am not a Targaryen husband.” She shifted slightly. Wincing as another pain went through her. “I’m not Valyrian.” Her children would only be half so. He needed to be reminded of that fact. She sometimes wondered if her husband thought her a dragonseed because she had claimed Sheepstealer in spite of what he said. It was too much to wrap one’s head around. Some Velaryon had fathered her. Or perhaps some Velaryon or even a Targaryen had fathered her mother or her father or her grandsires before her.

Nettles knew she was not one of them. No, she was a bastard from nowhere. Unknown. A question mark. A stain that would blight his blood. That would blight their children’s blood. Polluted. They would not be true Targaryen’s. Something told her that her blood would win out this time.

“I wouldn’t wish you to be.” Her husband reached out to her. To place a kiss upon her belly which earned him a kick from their babes and put a small smile on his worn face. He meant to continue to kneel before her, but Nettles motioned him to join her on the settee not wanting his knee to give out. Sitting up from her lounging position to make room for him. He was trying to please her. Could see her growing discomfort and wanted to calm her, but her mind was racing.

“Your children will not be dragonriders.” She thought once more of a silver-haired violet-eyed girl, freshly arrived in Oldtown. Full of life. Of hope. A young widow, but she would not remain so for long. Rhaena Targaryen. Daemon’s second daughter. Nettles’ youngest stepdaughter now.

She was set to marry a Hightower. Might’ve already said her vows. Nettles could not say she blamed the girl for her choice in a second husband. She knew the disappointment Rhaena had faced. A father's disappointment that a young girl who grew up without a mother had to face. How the girl craved his affection, how she had tried to gain it through her various efforts, but always fell short. A dragon short.

Sheepstealer had yet to lay eggs since she had claimed him. The dragon had never laid eggs as fair as the expectant mother knew. She thought that the warmer weather would do him some good. That it might bring about some change, but it hadn’t. That too might be for the best when she thought of little Laena. The poor dear. She had already been through so much in her young life. What had happened to her was unheard of.

Her babes in all likelihood would not be blessed with dragons as their elder half-sister had. Only she had gained Morning, a small thing that she could not even ride. They would never even gain such. They would fall short.

Daemon grabbed her hand. “They will be our children, Netty.” He brought her to him before tucking her under his chin while tracing circles into her back. Placing a kiss atop her dark coils. “I do not care about the rest, issa byka ōños (my little light). I will love them as I love you.” Words were wind. A man could say anything. It was his deeds that revealed the truth. So far when it came to his children his deeds told the true tale.

He had loved Laena. She had known that. Love did not protect Rhaena from her father's scorn and neglect. She did not know how the Velaryon woman did it. How she could bear it. Love. Daemon loved her. Nettles knew that. It would not protect her children either.

Daemon’s children. Baela loved him as always. His golden child. He had doted upon her. Had given her most of his affection. Rhaena resented him for his neglect. If Aegon and the recently recovered Viserys were aware of their father's survival they would without question share their sister’s sentiments for the abandonment of their ill-fated mother. What fate awaited her children? A do-over. A fresh start. Their children. Would he rise to the occasion as he had as a husband to her? Or would he falter?

Sheepstealers' roar woke her in part from her musings. A friendly one. The one used to greet Shalla, Bess, or some of the hill children though giggling would accompany them. It was not the only thing that had alerted her back to the present moment. Nettles went to stand. She needed a breath of fresh air. To get away. To think, but her babes had other plans.

She felt it before she saw the evidence of the beginning of her labors. Hiking her dress up to see a stream of fluid dripping down her legs. It was stained pink. Pain. Sharp. Irrefutable. She would have fallen if Daemon had not caught her before she reached their wooden floor. The contractions overtook her. They were too intense for early labor. Her labor was early itself. The babe was not due for another moon and a half. It was wrong. All wrong.

Ao3 Link:

#daemon x nettles #daemon targaryen x nettles #nettles x daemon #dattles #dettles #detty #daetty #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #daemon targaryen #nettles #hotd #house of the dragon #the rouge prince #nettles f&b #bnhotdfic

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ruesyblues · 2 years

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It was a quiet night in Gotham, and a quiet night meant that even one vigilante was barely needed, let alone two. Damian was perfectly capable of handling a couple of handbag snatchers on his own, so what was Jon even doing here?

“I’m here to see you, of course,” Jon said, all sunshine smiles.

Damian just scowled. He was back in school now, at his father’s insistence and Richard’s request, and the other kids all looked at him suspiciously, like they could tell that there was something strange about him. It chipped away at something inside him that had just started to heal, to be treated as different again after finally feeling like he was belonging.

“Does Metropolis not need its hero?” he asked.

Jon shrugged. “There’s not a lot of night time crime there.”

How boring. “And your boyfriend? Does he not want you around?”

Jon’s smile faltered a little at that. “It’s not like we’re attached. I don’t see him all the time.”

Damian scoffed. “You’ve texted him thrice since you got here.”

“Wha- how do you know that?” Jon asked. He seemed irritated. When they were children he would have been impressed.

“You make the same face every time you get a text from him,” Damian replied.

“Oh,” Jon said.

It was nice, honestly. Jon had always had a massive heart, and Damian was pleased to see that he’d fallen for someone who seemed equally infatuated with him. Jon deserved to be loved like that.

He didn’t know how to say that though. He’d managed an “I’m happy for you” back when he’d first found out, but that seemed too small, somehow, for someone who was supposed to be his best friend. How could he tell Jon that he was proud of what he’d become and was becoming?

How could he talk about how Jon deserved to be loved when he himself had never felt that kind of love?

“So what is it?” he said, “Did he find a kitten in a tree that he needs you to rescue? Or is there a sudden shortage of pink hair dye?”

Apparently, when sincerity failed him he resorted to sarcasm.

“You’re in a bad mood today,” Jon said, now sounding properly annoyed. “If you don’t want me around then just say so.”

Jon used to be able to read through Damian’s cutting remarks, and see what he was really trying to say. What had happened, in the years they hadn’t seen each other, that had led to them failing to understand each other?

He shrugged. “I never asked you to be here.”

“Fine.” Jon stood, and yanked on the cape he’d taken off. He muttered something, too quiet to hear.

“What?” Damian asked sharply. He had never heard Jon sound like this.

Jon glared. “I said, you can be such a child sometimes, grow up.”

Oh.

Something must have shown on Damian’s face, because the irritation drained out of Jon’s expression.

“Damian,” he said.

Damian turned away, refusing to look at him. Maybe that was childish. “Leave,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady.

“Dami, come on…”

“There are no metas allowed in Gotham,” he said, “Don’t make me enforce that now.”

It was a bullshit rule, and they all knew it. His siblings had been bringing in their superpowered friends for years. Jon didn’t call him out on it though, he just turned and took off. Damian didn’t look, not until he was sure that the red and blue speck had vanished from the sky.

He checked his watch. It was almost dawn. If he headed back now, he’d get three hours of sleep before school.

He turned on his comm. “Batgirl.”

There was a crackle, and then Stephanie’s voice. “Hey! What’s up? Everything fine?”

“Yes,” Damian replied, “I wanted to ask if you can cover my patrol zone for the next few hours?”

“Sure thing,” Steph replied, “Honestly I’m not sure you should even be patrolling on school nights.”

After Jon’s comment, that grated on his already frayed nerves. “I’m perfectly capable,” he replied, icy.

“I know,” Steph said, unperturbed, “But I remember how it killed me to juggle college and our nightwork. There’s nothing wrong with taking a break.”

“I suppose,” Damian allowed.

“Anyways, yeah, I can totally cover your patrol,” Steph said, “Go home, get some sleep kiddo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Damian snapped.

There was a pause, filled with the crinkle of static. “Okay,” Steph said slowly.

He felt guilty, because Steph had done nothing to deserve his ire. That blame fell on Jon, and Jay Nakamura, and the Legion of Superheroes who’d kept Jon away for so long that they’d forgotten how to be friends anymore.

“I apologise,” he said stiffly.

“No worries,” Steph said easily, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I'll see you,” he agreed, then disconnected the comm line. He stared at the sky, not sure what he was looking for. When nothing materialized, he pulled out his grapple and leapt off the building, heading in the direction of home.

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sailorshadzter · 2 years

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a whole bunch of random jonsa moments from the reunion to their happy ending. :)

When the call from the gate comes, he rises up, sharing but one quick glance with Edd before he departs out the door. Somewhere in the distance, Ghost is howling, not the lonely cry of the last direwolf, but of one finding a missing piece. Jon’s heart overturns, his stomach in his throat, the feelings rushing through him unlike any of the other ones that had come before. The cold, Northern slaps him in the face as he steps through the door and onto the top step that would lead him down into the courtyard, if only his feet would propel him forwards.

In a single instance, he’s rendered useless, breathless.

There she was, lowering that hood from her auburn hair, revealing to him a memory he’s kept locked inside, one of summer sunshine and laughter on the wind. For that moment, it is like he’s always dreamed- coming home to Winterfell, with his family around him, with warmth filling him up until it threatens to overflow. But, now that he looks just a little bit closer, now that he stops, he sees this girl who’s come through his gate is more like a ghost. So, his feet take him down the stairs, the snow crunching beneath his boots as she turns around, their eyes locking for the very first time.

Those blue eyes unnerve him and he hears his breath catch, sees her knees weaken.

When he opens his arms, she’s already rushing into them; she is cold and frail as his arms wind around her, the force of the embrace sweeping her off her feet. She is not the Sansa he remembers, but that hair... It is as he’s dreamed of. Her name is soft on his lips as she buries her face into the crook of his shoulder, holding onto him as if he is all that anchors her to this world. And truth was, he swears in that moment, she is all that anchors him. It does not pass him by, the realization of her appearance, so suddenly after his revival in this life. It means something, that much he knows.

And so, when he sets her back onto her feet, he holds her at arm’s length and smiles, noting not the pallor of her cheeks, but the rush her smile brings. “Let’s get you warm,” he says, though there’s so many things he might say, so many things he wishes he could say. She nods and together, they make their way back into Castle Black, into the place he’d only just sworn he would leave.

[ x x x ]

In the firelight, she’s rosy cheeked and smiling. “Forgive me,” she’s asking in earnest, leaning forward, his furs draped over her shoulders.

“I forgive you,” he gives in with a chuckle, warm not just from the drink he’s had this night with her.

“I didn’t know where else to come,” she says softly, a few moments later, her smile fading as a memory he’s not privy to takes root. Jon swallows, shaking his head as if he means to argue. “Where will you go?” She asks, instead, offering him the bait to take.

And he does. “Where will we go,” he clarifies, reaching out for the first time simply so he might touch his hand to hers. “We can’t stay here.”

“Let’s go home,” she replies, her other hand coming up to cross his, her touch once cold is now warm and soft. “Winterfell belongs to me and to you. It belongs to Bran and to Arya, and Rickon, too.” Their beloved little siblings, lost to them, uncertain if they lived or died. “We must go home.”

Something about hearing her say the word home is enough. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

“Home,” he agrees, nodding his head as a smile spreads across her face.

[ x x x ]

On their first night in Winterfell, she comes to his rooms.

“Sansa,” he greets, taking in the sight of her in her white nightgown and dressing robe. Of course, he steps back, allowing her entrance, turning around to watch as she settles before the hearth, hands out, warming over the burning fire. “It is late,” he says the obvious, bringing the softest of laughs from her lips.

“Ramsay is dead,” she announces without preamble, not looking at him, those blue eyes staring deep into the flames. “I killed him.”

“I left him for you,” Jon reminds her, thinking back to the courtyard scene, when it had been her presence alone to stop him from killing Ramsay Bolton with his own two hands. “To do with as you pleased,” truth was, he had not expected this from her, but then again, she was not the same Sansa he remembers from childhood. She was someone entirely new, built from grief and heartache. Even now, his knuckles throb with the pain, but it had not been his fight to finish, so he will live with the pain, just as she does. “Drink,” he encourages, when he’s poured her a goblet of wine, pouring himself one only as she drains hers.

“I don’t wish to be alone,” she whispers, those blue eyes staring back at him.

“Neither do I,” he says, the truth, and she smiles.

[ x x x ]

“Come back to me,” she whispers and Jon laughs, his palm cradling her cheek. “I mean it,” she adds, pulling a face. “Come back to us,” she amends, speaking aloud the words she’s yet to admit to anyone at all. His hand falls into place against her stomach, still yet flat, no sign of the life that was still to come. But he knows that when he returns here, she will be large with his child. He’s grinning, torn between laughter and tears, knowing what this means for the both of them. He recalls every night they’ve spent together in these last few months, knowing deep down that it was wrong, but really not caring. After all they’ve been through, would the Gods not spare them for their ill-fated love?

“I will,” he promises as her hand slips over his. “Keep my son safe, until I return,” he doesn’t know how, but he knows the child she carries is a boy. And from the way she smiles, so does she. “We will call him Robb,” his whispered words send a shiver down her spine- for that had been the very same name she had thought of. “The Young White Wolf,” Jon predicts, thinking of the son that would follow in his steps as King, the protector of Winterfell.

Sansa closes her eyes, imagining for a single moment the son she carries, not as an infant, but as a man grown to his full height. He would be built like her, but he would look just like Jon- there would be no denying his Stark heritage. “I will keep him safe, and the North, too,” she says softly, her own single vow to keep until his return. Jon nods and then he must go... So, she slips from his grip and watches in silence as he backs from the room, pausing for just one moment before he’s gone.

And so, her watch begins.

[ x x x ]

When the ships are spotted on the horizon, she knows he’s come home.

It takes just a few short hours before the screams of the dragons can be heard, before the long line of Dothraki soldiers begin to file into the North. But there they come, with Daenerys Targaryen at the front, her silvery hair like a beacon in the cold, morning fog. And at her side is of course Jon, who despite his calm demeanor, is trembling with anticipation beneath his furs.

Riding through the gate, he let’s go of all propriety and drops from his horse, rushing across the courtyard to where his family stands. It’s Bran he must greet first, stooping down so he might embrace the little brother he thought surely lost to him. With emotions welling in his eyes, he holds onto Bran as tightly as he dares, listening to the stoic voice that speaks back to him. It is not the voice nor the gaze he recalls, but like Sansa, like himself, they are not the same as they had once been within these walls of Winterfell.

And then... He stands upright and Sansa is all he sees.

She’s glowing like the setting sun, her ivory cheeks stained crimson, her blue eyes damp as she takes in the sight of him. He cannot wait another moment and so he must embrace her, too, choking on his own breath as he feels the slightest swell of her body beneath the cloak she wears. It is a secret smile they share as she pulls back, her gaze sweeping then from him to the young woman approaching them. “Your grace, might I introduce my sister, the Lady of Winterfell...”

[ x x x ]

He throws open the door to her chambers and there she stands, still yet tugging her cloak from her shoulders as he comes through. “Look at you,” he rasps, falling to his knees before her, hands stroking the slight curve of her belly, hidden quite well beneath the folds of her gown.

“I have grown fat,” she complains, though she is smiling all the same.

“You are more beautiful than I thought ever possible,” he says as he rises up, unable to help himself from kissing her, one hand still yet firmly placed against her belly. Beneath his palm he can feel it, the slightest flutter of the life within, a sign of the life they’ve created. “You are well?” He questions when he has pulled himself from her, holding her at arm’s length now, marveling in the beauty she is. Marveling at what they have done, at what she has done while he’s been away. “And the babe...?”

“Grows stronger every single day. He wakes me early each morning,” she laughs, absently running her own hand over the swell of her stomach. “He will be a fine boy.” She does not tell him that Bran has confirmed he will be a prince of princes, a boy that will grow into a man with the brightest of futures. “Tell me of Dragonstone, tell me about... Her...” She trails off, reminded again of the beauty that was the dragon queen, though there was something cold about her that left Sansa feeling more uncertain than she’d ever been before.

And so, when they’ve settled on her bed, Jon begins to talk, telling her of everything and anything, though not once does his hand leave her belly.

[ x x x ]

The night of the celebration, there is no more hiding her condition, and so it is with her belly on display that she appears in the great hall. A cheer goes up among the Northerners- they are loyal folk and it is to their pleasure that their lady has an heir on the way, regardless of how he’s been conceived. It is only the dragon queen who does not congratulate her, though she supposes she would not, regardless of the circumstances.

As it was, there was far more to celebrate than just their survival- but the truth, as well.

The truth that it was not Daenerys that was the heir to the Seven Kingdoms, but Jon. The truth of his birth had come to light only a few days before and it turns out, word travels fast, even there in Winterfell. And so, it was not just Winterfell’s heir to celebrate, but the heir of Jon, the boy who would unite the Seven Kingdoms in peace, without a doubt, without worry. If only they could get so far.

And so, she holds her goblet in the air and smiles, catching the attention of those around her. The chatter falls quiet and the Northern lords and guests all turn to where she stands behind the head table, Jon and Bran to her either side, Arya in the corner looking on. “For the North,” she calls out and all the voices in the room but one chant it back. Over and over, it reverberates on the walls, the sound sending chills down her spine as she puts her goblet to her lips.

She turns slightly and catches the gaze of the violet eyed dragon queen, staring down at her from the far end of the table. Daenerys narrows those eyes and Sansa cannot help but to smile in her direction, watching as she pushes her chair back from the table and stalks from the room, only her ever loyal attendant following after her.

Sansa supposes a war of a new kind was soon to follow, but she’s battled worse than dragons, and so she is not afraid. For once, she has something to protect far greater than herself and she will never forget the vow she made to Jon that night he left for Dragonstone: she would protect their son and the North as well. “For the North,” she whispers again, her free hand pressing against her belly as she drains the last sip of her wine. “And for you.”

[ x x x ]

“You must come back.”

They’ve been here before, but somehow this time feels different. There is a new sense of dread that fills her up as she thinks of him riding off into battle, this time one for a throne he doesn’t even really want. She knows as well as he does that this is what he must do, to keep them all safe, but it does not make it any easier to see him off. “I promise,” he whispers as he leans in to kiss her one last time, hands sliding into place against her cheeks. He holds fast to her, feeling the same uneasiness as she, but knowing he must be the one who is strong in the moment. “I will return and we will be happy.” They’ve spoken of this dream for weeks now- of his return after this final battle for the Seven Kingdoms, when they would finally be able to find peace and happiness. When they could finally be together as a family, without the threat of war and death looming overhead.

It is his vow of the future that brings a smile to her face; she nods, allowing him to take a step back, though his one hand remains in place against the curve of her cheek. “I will be here waiting,” she says, swallowing down the last bit of emotions welling within her. Jon smiles and he let’s go, hoping with all of his heart that he can fulfill this last promise to her.

When he’s gone, she pulls on her cloak and walks the ever familiar path down to the godswood, where she takes her usual spot beneath the heart tree. For a moment, she stares up at the canopy of weirwood leaves, before she closes her eyes and she prays. She prays for the first time in years, asking the gods to protect those she loves from harm in the coming battle. She prays for Jon and for Arya and Brienne, too.

She can only hope they will listen to the prayers of a woman who has long since lost her faith.

[ x x x ]

“My lady!”

It’s one of the only men left behind in Winterfell, barging through her solar door without even a knock. “The soldiers are returning!” He nearly shouts in his excitement, watching as she jumps to her feet, a smile slowly spreading across her lips. “Lord Snow was seen at the front, with your sister as well!”

“You are certain?” She asks, not daring to believe it. But the man nods and her stomach turns over, relief rushing through her entire being. “Tell the kitchens and the staff, ensure there is a feast prepared for their return, they will certainly be cold and hungry. Have Agatha oversee the preparation of rooms for as many as we can house.” The man nods and bows, before he backs from the room, leaving her alone once again. Slowly she drops back into her chair and wraps her arms around her belly, where beneath her touch the child squirms, surely running out of space within her womb as he grows. “Your father is coming home, little one,” she whispers as the tears begin to fall, offering silent thanks to the gods for answering her prayers.

[ x x x ]

It is Arya that rides through the gates first, her face bruised, but she was otherwise unhurt. Sansa wraps her little sister in her arms and holds on tight, again thanking the gods for hearing her pleas for her safety. “Welcome home,” is all she can manage to say between her tears, and though Arya’s face is passive, she too holds onto Sansa a moment longer than she had before. And then she’s gone, moving past one sibling for another, for Bran has come down to the courtyard as well, to greet those who have returned home.

And then as Sansa is turning around from watching her youngest siblings embrace, she sees him. It’s Jon come through the gates on his horse, looking as battered as Arya had, but he was alive. And he was home. The moment their eyes lock, Jon is sliding from the saddle, shoving the reins at the nearest soldier, before he’s rushing towards her. His arms come around her and she’s laughing, crying, happier than she’s ever been in all of her life. “You’re home,” she says as he wipes the tears from her cheeks, though they only fall faster.

“I promised, didn’t I?” He replies with a chuckle, though his Stark colored eyes are damp with the emotions welling within him. “I’m home,” he says a moment later, leaning in his forehead to hers, breathing in her familiar scent, reveling in the feel of her arms around his waist.

He was home and he would never leave her again.

[ x x x ]

First comes her coronation as Queen in the North, followed by his as the King of the Six Kingdoms the following month. And that same day, they are married in a small, but lavish ceremony in the Red Keep. Upon returning to Winterfell, they marry again, this time with only their family present, beneath the heart tree in the godswood.

They spend much of their time in Winterfell, though his duties call him South every few weeks, and until she feels her body changing to prepare for the impending birth of their child, she’s always rode with him. Returning to King’s Landing had not been something she ever expected to do, though, it is not the same place she recalls. No longer do the ghosts of the past there haunt her. Rather, she’s happy to build new memories in the place she once feared. It would become a home away from home, a place their children would know as well as they know Winterfell.

On this morning, she wakes with a dull ache in her back, though not something she’s unused to, considering the advanced state of her pregnancy. It is the day before Jon is to return South and he snores in the bed beside her, one arm draped comfortably over her own body. Carefully as she can, she slides out from beneath the furs, thinking she might call for a warm bath, the one thing that might relieve the ache of her body. But before she can even tug on her dressing gown, the babe twists sharply within her and there comes a gush from between her legs. She does not realize it, but she must have called out, for Jon’s sleepy voice suddenly breaks into her racing mind. “Alright, sweetheart?”

“I think my time has come,” she says and if Jon was not awake yet, he certainly was now.

[ x x x ]

On that very evening, as the moon began its ascent into the sky, their son was born.

He came into life screaming, with a head of dark hair that would certainly fall into the same curls as his father and namesake. Robb Stark, he would be called of course, a name they’d chosen from that very first day she had told Jon she was carrying him. When all was over and the babe was wrapped securely in linen and handed off to his mother, his cries had quieted, and it was with the most inquisitive dark eyes that he did stare up at her. Even at minutes old, he was his father’s son, there was certainly no denying his Stark heritage. “He is beautiful,” she whispers, marveling over his delicate features, his skin feathery soft when she presses the first of many kisses to his forehead. “Look at him, he is perfect,” Sansa cries softly as she strokes the dark hair, wondering for a single moment if she could ever feel more love than she felt right then.

But then Jon takes their son into his arms and her heart melts.

“Hello son...” Jon murmurs softly to the babe, before he leans over him so he too might kiss him upon the forehead. He was, as Sansa said, perfect, and truly beautiful. A handsome boy he would grow into and already his heart aches with the knowledge that he would never again have this moment with his first born. But there would be so many more moments to come and he supposes those are what he must look forward to.

And so, he passes the baby back to Sansa, watching as she snuggles him close to her chest, nuzzling against his dark head of hair. This was the happiest of moments, the best one of his entire life, and even now he cannot believe it is real. Leaning over, he places a kiss against the top of her head and vows to himself that he will always keep this little family of his safe.

That was his new promise.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #my writing #i wrote this #ive been working on this for days now #idk why it took so long but here it is

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bellysoupset · 2 years

Note

Wanna do a fic where Vince finally reckons with Wendy and forgives her (albeit begrudgingly) for the Pussy Magnet incident? Either one can be the sickee but we definitely gotta see Vince’s tender side come out. Whether it’s from seeing her in a vulnerable state, or from realizing that holy shit those back rubs and gentle forehead touches checking for a temp are actually feeling really good, I wanna see them get closer with each other!

So this got a little plot, so disclaimer: It's a long read. Still I'm very happy with it! Tingling romance is my jaaam, thank you for the request!!

"Okay, I get why Lucas has to go," Vince said slowly, "because Bell wants to go and him and Jonah have this weird shared history-" which he was absolutely not jealous about, "and I get why you want to go since you two are friends or whatever," he continued, pointing at Leo, "but why do I need to go?"

Leo glared at him, not in the mood to humor Vince's bullshit today, "because you're his friend even if you pretend you're not and it's his birthday. I expect you to be bring a gift, be there at seven, sharp."

"Sharp," Vince repeated, sarcastically as Leo picked up his gym bag and barged off the gym. He sighed, now not only he was going to a party he didn't want to go to, but he had to wrap the gift he had gotten for Jonah.

Jonah was a fancy motherfucker who, unlike Lucas, made sure people knew it at all times. His birthday party was in the restaurant that was in the terrace of the fanciest business building in town.

Vince grimaced, looking around for his friends, fidgeting in the formal pants and the itchy blazer. He hated dressing up -

"Oh look at you," a voice said from behind him and he turned around to find Bella, who looked just as out of place as he did, "you clean up nice, Vin."

"Almost as well as you do," he smiled, kissing her cheek. Her auburn hair was up in a messy bun that he knew was not purposefully messy, but looked good nonetheless. He could count in one hand the amount of times he had seen Bell in a dress, but the simple mini black dress suited her well, "where's Luke?"

"Hiding somewhere," Bella grinned, "this place is packed full with his high school buddies."

Vince looked around, feeling twenty times more self conscious now. It was bad enough being in a fancy party, but it was worse knowing the people around him, full of judgment, were his best friend's old acquaintances.

"I thought he went to high school in Switzerland or some shit?"

"I did," Lucas grumbled, thumping his back as he appeared and then wrapping an arm around Bell, "Jonah kept in touch with a bunch of the guys, they've flown in to see him."

"Christ", Vince frowned, "where's the birthday bo-"

He cut himself short as he saw Jonah.

Jon, with a brilliant smile on his face, chatting with Wendy and a bunch of other people from med school.

"Not her," Vince pouted and then heard a hum in affirmation.

"He's been glued to her all night," Leo said from his right, downing a flute of champagne, "it's been hell."

Vince raised his eyebrows, he knew why he was bitter towards Wendy, but he had no idea what she could've possibly done to upset Leo, of all people, who was a ball of sunshine.

"Have you met?" Lucas asked, while Bella studied Jonah and Wendy, her blue eyes squinting and sparkling as if they were a puzzle piece.

"She's the med student who checked on me at the hospital when I had the flu, past month."

"Oh," Lucas frowned, "then why don't you lik-"

"They're coming over."

"I have eyes, Leo, thanks," Vince scoffed, only to force a plastic smile as Jonah walked their way, pulling Wendy by the hand. Literally what the fuck was up with those two?

"Hey guys-"

"Hi Pussy Magnet," Wendy said, her voice all bubbly and Vince's cheeks burned, while Leo scowled at her, "how are you tonight?"

"I was fine until now," he glared at her, while Bella raised her eyebrows.

"Pussy Magnet? Do I wanna know what this is about?"

"You do, girl," Wendy's hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, "big guy over here fainted at the fundraiser's fair becaus-"

"Are you gonna make a point of telling everyone you meet about this?" Vince snapped at her and she looked taken back, for a split second, before she flashed him a sharp smile.

"I don't know, I think I could tell at least ten more people before it stops being funny, Pussy Magnet."

Vince opened his mouth to retort, but Jonah interrupted him by laughing and rolling his eyes.

"It's really not that big of a deal, Vin," he said and he sounded so happy, much to Vince's absolute dismay. He would hate to ruin his birthday.

"Right," he cringed, "oh look, finger food-" and he took the chance to get as far away from Wendy as possible. God, he really didn't like her.

Leo threw him a desperate look as he moved away, but Vince simply squeezed his shoulder and bolted away. He circled the bar and went into a separate room of the restaurant, filling his hands up with canapes.

He attempted to blend in with the wall, an incredibly easy task when you were a large football player like him.

It was nearly forty minutes later when Jonah cornered him, nearby the fireplace and sipping on water, while overhearing the drama of one of Lucas and Jonah's old school mates. Rich people had the best gossip, he decided, fully entertained by the soap opera of "and then he married his step daughter!"

"There you are," Jonah smiled, leaning on the wall next to him and Vince scoffed.

"Yeah, because I'm easy to miss," he mumbled, then winced. Jonah's night, play nice, he reminded himself, "sorry. Happy birthday, Jon."

"Thanks," Jonah's tone went back to his normal one, "I can't take this party anymore. I've never smiled so much in my life."

Vince laughed at that, surprised, "I thought you were enjoying yourself."

"I am," Jonah shrugged, "but smiling so much? Being the center of attention for hours? That's a lot."

"Tell me about it," Vince raised his water as if to toast and Jonah looked at him intently.

"I think you hurt Wendy's feelings."

Vince spluttered his water, "I hurt her feelings?!" he choked, wiping the water down his chin, "Jon, c'mon now-"

"She got all excited when she realized you were here."

"I wasn't born yesterday, I can tell she doesn't like me, man," Vince rolled his eyes, "what's the deal with you two anyway?"

It was Jonah's turn to splutter, utterly confused, "our deal...?"

"Yeah, you're all... Sweet and touchy around her."

"I'm friendly," Jonah frowned, "I'm friendly with everyone."

Vince rolled his eyes, "have you met yourself?"

"Are you calling me an asshole on my birthday? Who's the asshole here, Vincent?"

"My name is not even Vincent, it's Vincenzo, just so you know" Vince couldn't help a smile, "and fine, sorry. But c'mon, Jon, don't act like you act like that with everyone."

"She's nice," Jonah sighed, "I don't know, I just... I get her, I guess."

Vince paused, thinking about what his friend said and couldn't help but nod in understanding. So far, with her ability to piss him off at every turn, Jonah and Wendy seemed like very similar people. It made sense they clicked.

"You should maybe... I don't know, clarify to Leo you're not dating her," Vince said, trying not to make it awkward and failing miserably. He had always felt the weird vibe between Leo and Jon, but it wasn't until Jon had spelled it out for him G-A-Y that he had thought maybe it could be more than just a one sided crush from Leo's part.

"Leo?" Jonah blinked a bunch of times, "you realize he's into you not me, right?"

Vince grinned at him, "everyone's into me, man, c'mon now."

"Oh fuck off," Jonah shoved his arm, causing Vince to shove him back, still smiling.

"I'm just saaaying, he might be all heart eyes when he sees me shirtless, but he's not jealous over me with a girl," Vince whispered, leaning in, "get your shit together, Jon."

"Only after you get yours," Jonah pushed him away, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips, "go apologize to my friend."

"...Really?" Vince did not whine, "do I have to? She's just gonna call me Pussy Magnet again and then make fun of me for passing out at the ER."

"Vince," Jonah wrinkled his nose, "grow up."

"Your wish is a command, birthday boy," Vince rolled his eyes, before scanning the room, "I don't see her anywhere."

Jonah shrugged, patted his arm and moved away, as if to tell him he'd not be helping find Wendy. Vince sighed, moving to the next room.

Lucas and Bell were chatting with people Vince didn't recognize and Leo had found Mikey and Ryan. Still, no Wendy.

He moved outside the hallway, to the large hallway, but besides two different couples making out, he didn't find her there either. Maybe she had left.

Vince moved outside the restaurant, to the terrace part of the penthouse, where some people were talking, others smoking... He had about given up, decided she had probably left early, when he saw a blur of green.

In the further corner of the terrace, away from the restaurant view. He stepped closer, wondering if it was truly her, but then she moved slightly and yeah - It was her.

Vince sighed, climbing over the two steps that separated her section of the piers from the rest. She was bracing against the railing that separated her and falling to certain death, 33th floors under. Vince didn't even attempt glancing down, just being this close was already unnerving.

"Hi-"

She jumped, startled, then she saw him and Wendy wrinkled her nose in disgust, "Oh, it's you," she scoffed, turning away from him once more and glaring at the spectacular view.

Vince grind his teeth, shoved his hands in his pockets and tried not to be annoying. For Jon, "yeah, it's me. Look, I just wanted to uh..." he hesitated at apologize, because she hadn't even bothered to turn and look at him. Rude much? "to apologize," Vince forced out, "I was rude before... And at the hospital. And at the fair."

"Uhm," was Wendy's eloquent answer and he pouted.

"I didn't mean to offend you with the pussy magnet jacket joke, but clearly I did. It was in bad tast-"

"Oh god," she groaned, hands planted on the railing and letting her head hang in the space between her arms. Vince's pride stung.

"It wasn't even that bad, c'mon-"

"Fuck, can't you just- Shut up?" Wendy groaned and he felt his temper start to get the best of him, but then she let out another moan and his confusion overrode the anger.

"Uh... Are you alright?" he asked, frowning.

"Not really," she groaned and Vince raised his eyebrows. She sounded too coherent to be wasted, even with the powerful fancy alcohol.

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking a tentative step closer and she raised her head, facing him directly for the first time since he had approached her.

She had makeup on, but no amount of blush could hide how horribly pale she was. Her mascara had smeared at the corners, but it didn't look like she had been crying, just teary...

"Wendy?"

"My head's killing me," she answered, wincing in pain and once again lowering her head, chin to her chest, "you can go, I just need some fresh air."

Yeah, fuck no he was leaving her like that, Vince thought, rolling his eyes and stepping even closer.

"Do you get migraines?" he asked softly and she nodded slowly.

"I didn't feel this one coming, though," she said in a small voice, squeezing the railing a little tighter and pressing her lips in a thin line, "could you go? I... I'd rather you didn't witness this."

"Feeling sick?" he guessed, wincing in sympathy. Both his mom and baby sister had premenstrual migraines, he wasn't new to this. Wendy let out a pitiful groan, which was answer enough.

He sighed and gently pulled her hair back. It was wavy and chin length, so it wasn't pulled back like Bell's had been, just hanging freely around her face, ready to get coated in vomit.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," he cut her off, "forget I'm here."

"Kinda hard," Wendy groaned, then a tiny little burp rolled past her lips and she whimpered, snapping her mouth shut. Vince frowned, noticing how hard she was trying to keep it together, he didn't know if it was due to the fancy party or him being there.

"You're just gonna make yourself feel worse," he whispered, bunching up her hair in one hand and using the other one to rub her back. She was wearing a green dress that had a structured top and open back, so his hand rested directly onto her skin, "let it out, honey."

Another little whimper from her and Wendy leaned further over the railing, body shaking with a weak heave. She let out a pained sob, "hurtss..."

And all the music and chattering probably wasn't helping in the least, Vince thought, but what he said was, "you're alright, it'll be over in a minute."

He heard a gurgle go up from her stomach and then she burped up a stream of vomit over the railing, tinted pale yellow by the champagne. He grimaced, both in queasiness and just sympathy.

Black mascara tears ran down her cheeks and he waited until she stopped gagging and fighting for air, before reaching in and wiping them out. Vince gave her a minute of absolute silence, then said, "better?"

"A little," she sniffled, avoiding his eyes, "I think I'm gonna go home, before I make an even bigger fool of myself."

"Do you need a ride?" He heard himself say, before he could think through that offering. She looked just as shocked as he felt.

To her credit, she recovered quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and shaking her head, "No, you've done a lot already and I wouldn't want to impo-"

"I'm leaving anyway," Vince insisted and cringed. He sounded desperate, but he felt partially responsible for her, now that he knew what bad shape she was in. Wendy's cheeks turned red and she twisted her hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he agreed, "let's go?"

She walked by his side, accepting the hand he offered her to get down the taller deck part. He watched as she grimaced and gulped down as they passed by the people who were smoking, but Vince also raised his eyebrows as he watched her wipe the corners of her makeup and straighten up as they entered the party, patting her cheeks to get some color back in her face. If he hadn't watched her just puke, he wouldn't have believed it.

"I'm just gonna go grab my purse, say bye to Jon," she said quietly, standing tall and stepping away from him. He waited until she stepped away to find Lucas in the crowd.

Him and Bell were sitting down at a couch, feeding each other dessert and being disgustingly adorable.

"I'm gonna drive Wendy home, can you pick me up so I can get my bike?" Vince asked in one breath, causing Lucas' eyebrows to shot up so far that they disappeared in his hair.

"Wend- What?"

"Lucas," He groaned, trying to vocalize there was no time to get in details now.

"Just take a cab to the dorms, I'll take your motorcycle there tomorrow," Bella answered for Lucas and Vince gave her a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Beautiful," he said, then saw Wendy move to the door, all smiles to Jonah and shaking her head as she probably reassured him she was absolutely fine, "goodnight guys."

"Goodnight!" Bell said, while Lucas still looked confused and whispered to his girlfriend.

"Didn't he hate her five minutes ago?"

He caught up with Wendy at the hallway. Now outside, her brilliant smile vanished and she winced at the bright lights.

"I'm really sorry for ruining your night," she said in a small voice and Vince rolled his eyes, following her into the elevator.

"You didn't," he opened his hand, "car keys, please."

She tried getting them out of her purse, but her hands were shaking and eventually she just shoved the whole purse into his hands and crumpled against the elevator's wall, closing her eyes and resting her hands on her knees.

"Don't do that, you're gonna get even more nauseous," Vince warned her, "inertia and all that sh-"

She jostled with an aborted heave, clamping a tiny hand to her lips. He grimaced.

"Wendy?"

"Please," she whimpered, eyes squeezed shut, fighting against the nausea and the pain. Vince looked around the fancy elevator, but like any rich people's property, there was no trashcan to be seen and they still had 29 floor to go.

She gagged again and he saw her visibly swallow down, "'m gonna be sick..." Wendy whimpered, sounding awfully close to tears and Vince's heart squeezed.

"Fuck this," he scoffed, stripping down his blazer and cupping it under her mouth, "you're alright, I got you."

She shook her head, "No, please-"

"Shhh," Vince shushed her, tucking the strands of hair away from her mouth and moving behind her, so he could hold her jacket in front of her mouth and still hold her hair, "it's okay, you're alright-"

Her tiny frame shook with one more heave and then more champagne vomit poured out of her mouth, right into the jacket cocoon he had made.

Wendy whimpered, grabbing at the blazer to bring it closer to her mouth and Vince sighed in pure sympathy. He felt impossibly bad for her.

"Almost at the garage," he promised, eyeing the elevator hit the 18. She coughed again, puked another tiny stream and then sniffled pitifully just as they hit the 7th floor, finally seeming to get her stomach under control.

"I'm so so sorry-"

"It's just a jacket, honey, don't worry," Vince shrugged, "and a super cheap one at that, it was hella itchy."

She let out a hysterical giggle at that, "god, Vince, don't make me laugh."

They hit the garage without further mishaps and he discarded the jacket in the first trashcan they found, all while Wendy pouted like a kicked puppy.

He planted his hands on her exposed shoulders, squeezing them, "stop worrying, I can hear it from here - So which one is yours?"

She pointed a pink car and he snorted. Of course.

After she had rattled out her address for him to put in the GPS, she curled up on the passenger seat and went quiet, pain written on the lines of her delicate face. Vince stole a quick glance at her here and there, feeling bad when he pulled up in her building and had to reach in to shake her.

"Hey... Wendy?"

She blinked slowly, realizing they had made it inside the garage once more and sighed in relief at being home.

"Thank you, Vince... Do you wanna come up?"

"Nah, another day," he said before registering what he had said. Her cheeks turned red and she nodded... Then leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you. So much, you have no idea."

Vince's entire face burned and he cursed himself for blushing so easily, "anytime, honey," he shrugged, voice cracking slightly and getting out of the car, towards the exit of the building though.

-----

Five days later, he came to his dorm to find a large black box in front of his door, with a silver bow on top. The card read "Thanks for the help, Pussy Magnet. XOXO - Wendy"

It was an Italian fine blazer.

#emetophilia #migraine #sickfic #wendy marshall #mywriting

39 notes · View notes

moxleys-darlin · 1 year

Text

I'll Show You Disrespect

Pairings: Jon Moxley/Wheeler Yuta, Jon Moxley/Bryan Danielson, implied Shield/BCC/Renee

Summary: Yuta's finally had enough, Mox will fix the situation somehow.

Disclaimer: I don't claim anything but the idea; characters (unfortunately) and gifs aren't mine.

CW: anxiety spiral, biting (could be seen as abuse, I see it as violent BCC boys being violent), Mox cusses like a trucker (same 🙄)

(Gifs aren't mine)

Swiss Supes ☕️: 911, BCC LR

"I have to go, man. I need you to find Renee and send her to the Club's locker room asap."

"Jonny, what the-?"

"No time, Eddie! Now!" Mox doesn't wait for Eddie's response, spinning around and stalking off toward the locker room.

He storms through the doors, wincing when they hit the wall. The scene he witnesses when he walks in makes him want to taste someone's blood. Claudio walks slowly towards him, hands out like he's trying to calm a wild animal, but Mox drops the belt and pushes past him. Regal looks up at him from his kneeling position in front of Yuta.

"Oh, Sunshine look, Mox is here." Regal sadly reports as he stands with Claudio's help, petting through his young lover's hair gently, leaving the room when the two-minute warning for the match is announced through the door.

He falls to his knees in front of Yuta, putting his hands on his face and pressing their foreheads together. "Tell me Pup, give me a name and I'll bring you their head."

"You can't Moxie, not this time."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want Yoots, and I certainly would do anything for you."

"I'm done, Jon." He freezes, ice filling his filling his veins slowly. "I'm done trying, I can't stick my neck out only to be hurt every time, so I'm done." Mox lifts his head and swings it toward Claudio.

"What the fuck happened? What did he do?" Claudio doesn't answer, just replays the promo for him. "Oh, hell no, I'm gonna kill him!"

“Enough Mox, please, I want to go to the house, I want to sleep in my bed.” Yuta grabs his face, making him look at him. “Please I want my bed.”

My bed. The phrase runs through his head on repeat, getting louder, screaming at him until it rips a whimper out of his throat. Claudio comes up behind him, strong hands on his shoulders, keeping him centered, and Yuta, seeming to realize what he said, taps his fingertips against Mox’s face like Regal taught him to reclaim his attention.

“No Moxie, we are not done, I’m not giving any of you up, I’m too selfish for that. I just refuse to fight for someone who’s already given up the war. I-I can’t keep getting hurt by him, so until everything settles down or he comes to me, I don’t want to be with him, professionally and friendly sure, but not romantically.”

Mox’s breathing comes a little easier after his Pup’s declaration and he breathes deeply before looking up at Claudio. “Take him home babe,” he sees Renee push the door open, finally arriving. “Both of you take him home if you’re done. I’ll stay here and wait for Regal and Bryan.”

Claudio tries to argue, but Mox waves him off. His Swiss lover sighs deeply, grabbing his and Yuta’s bags and walking away with him. He hears him tell Renee he’ll explain in the car, before Mox feels thin arms wrap around his waist and a kiss is placed on his back.

“I love you Mox, I always will, nothing will change that, I promise.” He turns around, not letting the arms release him, kissing his Pup deeply, nibbling on his lower lip toward the end.

“I love you too, Yuta, now go with them and call Seth or Roman when you get into bed, please let Renee or Claudio stay with you.” He places a kiss on Yuta’s lips again, watching his three lovers walk out.

He pulls up a metal chair close to television, watching Bryan’s match with Sammy Guevara, the kid and his wife making his lip curl into a snarl. His phone dings, a quick glance letting him know that the trio was home safely, and Yuta was in bed with Claudio. Another ding sounds and it’s from Seth, letting him know that he’s on the phone with Yuta because Roman is too aggressive at the moment. He sends a quick thumbs up as a response, getting distracted at the sight of Bryan’s bloody face. His mind drifts as the match goes on, splitting his attention between Bryan and Yuta, his mood continuously darkening. He is taken from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening and he feels a stinging pain, looking down to see eight perfect bloody crescents on his palms.

“Demon, you’re still here? I thought you would have head on home with the others.” Regal questions warily.

“Wanted to check on Bryan, I know Sammy boy can be an ass sometimes, and I saw the blood.” He watches Bryan head for the showers. “He get checked out?”

“Yes Jon, he did, what is really going on? You never let Sunshine go home without you. Please Jon, I know things are tense, but he’s hurt.”

“William, I know he’s your golden boy, but this has gone on long enough.”

“Jon-.”

“Yuta said he’s done! He’s done letting Bryan hurt him, so until things settle down, or Bryan comes to him, he’s done with Bryan romantically. He swears that he’s still going to be with us, but how long until he’s so miserable he leaves all together?” Mox sighs and scrubs his face roughly. “I’m not going to hurt him William, but I am gonna give him a goddamn wake up call, so stay or don’t, your choice.”

“I trust that you know the limits, he has truly been hurt tonight, so please let us go home in one piece tonight, My Demon.”

“We will darlin’, we will, I think Ortiz wanted to ask you some questions about submissions.” Mox stated, giving Regal an out.

They hear the shower shut off, both looking toward the bathroom doors. “Yes, I think I will go find the lad now, call me when you’re ready to leave.”

Mox walks inside the bathroom toward the shower stalls, eyeing Bryan as he dries off and steps into a pair of sweatpants. His footsteps are silent as he closes in on his Dragon, mentally mapping and categorizing the bruises littering his back. He appreciates the beautiful sight of Bryan before seizing him by one of his shoulders and pushing him into the closest wall. His other hand shields his lover’s face, so it doesn’t make contact with the hard surface.

“Mox, what the fuck? Let me go!” Bryan tries to twist out of Mox’s hold unsuccessfully, and Mox brushes his lips against the Dragon’s ear.

“So, you feel disrespected, do you? By Jericho, by your boy Daniel, and by our boy Yuta, am I right?” He kisses Bryan’s ear, feeling the shiver run through his body.

“Mox please, I was just upset, I got carried away,” he shivers as Mox switches to his other ear, running his nose across the back of it, before nuzzling his way down to the back of his neck. “Mox, come on-.”

“How about I show you some disrespect, baby?” He sets his teeth on Bryan’s neck, biting deeply when he hears his lover’s whine of confusion.

“Ah! Mox what the fu-?”

Mox keeps his teeth sunk in, making sure to create a bruise, before releasing the skin. Bryan is breathing hard, letting his head lay against the wall. Mox wraps his arms around Bryan, gently pulling the both of them backwards until he can fall onto one of the benches, Bryan in his lap. He leans in near his ear again, blowing on it softly to feel him writhe in his captivity, his Dragon whining softly when Mox runs a finger over the bite mark.

“Oh, I’m sorry baby, did I hurt you? Do you feel disrespected? I would absolutely hate it if you felt that way.” He scoffs angrily, moving his hands to Bryan’s hips, making him stand up so he can walk back into the sitting area.

It doesn’t take long for the fog to clear from Bryan’s mind, filling with anger instead of hazy confusion, and he storms after Mox, slamming the doors against the walls. His anger grows we he sees Mox lounging peacefully on the couch.

“What the fuck was that Mox?!” He brushes his fingertips against the bite mark, wincing in pain. “You think I don’t have enough bruises from tonight? You had to add one more? For what, huh? Me saying I feel disrespected by Yuta?” He paces back and forth, feeling Mox tracking his movement like a hungry predator.

Mox shrugs nonchalantly, “What can I say, baby? I thought I should let you feel a little bit of the pain that the Pup is feeling right now.”

“Is that why you stayed? To show me how much pain Yuta is in? Well thanks, so glad you could take the time to fucking bite me so that I know that I hurt his feelings, much appreciated.” Bryan realizes he’s said the wrong thing when a snarl is ripped from Mox’s throat.

“No, sweetheart, I’m here to deliver a message before we three go home to the others, figured you’d want us to be alone when I tell you.” Mox leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and his hands clasped under his chin. “The bite was just for me, let’s say it’s almost like a timer.” Bryan wants to wipe the smirk off his face.

“Delivering a message? A fucking timer? Speak fucking plainly, Jon, I’m tired of this game!” Bryan gulps slightly, backing up as Mox rises from the couch, stalking toward him.

“Yeah Bry, a message from Yuta actually. He says he’s done letting you hurt him. That until you’re ready to come to him and talk things out like a goddamn adult, or things settle down, he’s done. He’ll be your friend and your stable mate, but he can’t be your lover right now, not until you grow a pair and apologize, or calm the fuck down.”

“N-no, Mox wh-?”

Mox crowds Bryan into the wall, grazing his fingertips around the bite. “And yeah, a timer Bryan. Until this bad boy heals, you’re to keep your distance from Yuta. I can’t trust you around him because you can’t stop hurting him. He’ll train with me, Claudio, or Regal and I’m sure we can figure out a sleeping arrangement.”

“Please Jon-.” Mox brushes a finger over Bryan’s lips.

“Hush, Dragon. When this bite heals, you’ll fix your mistakes, but until then, Yuta is off limits to you. I know it sounds cruel, but I refuse to lose any of you fuckers. You made me love you all; you and Regal moved me in, and I made my home with you. I won’t lose anybody, so if this is what needs to happen, so be it, I’ll be the bad guy.” Mox butts his forehead against the side of Bryan’s temple gently.

They are interrupted by the locker room door opening, surprised to see Renee walk in with Regal. He backs away from Bryan, giving him room to breathe and calm down, walking towards their duffle bags.

“I’m glad you’re here baby girl, think I can bum a ride from you?” He situates the bags to one hand, holding Renee’s cheek, and kissing her sweetly.

“You seem nice enough, so I guess so.” She shrugs, fighting a smile, giving Regal time to go check in with Bryan.

“You bit him Jon. Don’t try and say you didn’t, this absolutely was not here earlier.” Bryan places a hand on Regal’s back.

“Don’t William, I-I don’t like that he did it, but I know why he did. It’s no different than when you slap us, yeah? This is my timer, I accept that. Can you and I please just sit down for a moment? I need some down time with you before we go home.”

Mox drops the bags by Renee’s feet, striding toward Bryan again. “I love you Bryan, so much, I’m sorry for the bite, I really didn’t plan that.” He nuzzles his nose on Bryan’s cheek.

“I love you too, Mox. I know you didn’t, we all will fix any tension between us and when this heals, I’ll fix things with Yuta.” Mox feels tears hit his nose and he leans back to look into Bryan’s eyes.He pulls his lover into a tight hug, burying his face into his neck to let him cry for a moment, stroking his neck and humming into his ear until Bryan pulls away. He watches as Regal grabs Bryan by his hips, pulling him back into his chest gently, whispering in his ear. Mox gets his older lover’s attention, kissing him over Bryan’s shoulder.

“I love you, old man, we’ll see you at the house, try not to stay much longer, okay?” He pecks his lips again before backing away.

“I love you too, my Demon, go and take care of our Sunshine and I will come in and check on you all when I get home.” Mox looks into his eyes to see if he can find any anger, but all he sees is love and understanding shining back at him.

Renee grabs his hand, and he takes the bags from her before they turn to leave. As they reach the doors Mox turns back to glance at his lovers, seeing Bryan in Regal’s lap, face in his neck. Regal looks up to see him staring and sends him a small, sweet smile before turning his attention back to Bryan. Renee leads him to the car, and he decides to let her drive, too unfocused at the moment. He is worried that Regal is mad at him, so he pulls his phone out.

Me: We’re okay, you and me?

He anxiously bites his thumbnail, waiting for an answer, starting to drift off in his thoughts, but the notification brings him back before he can start his spiral downward.

Old Man 👑💛: Ease your thoughts my Demon, we are okay. I love you Jon, my darling Wild Thing. Get home and take care of the others and I will take care of you when I get home my sweet boy 😘

He texts Yuta and Claudio quickly, letting them know they are on the way, and puts his phone away. Renee puts her hand in his lap, giving him the option to hold it if he wants to, which he gladly accepts. Laying his head back against the headrest, he allows his mind drift, letting his wife’s presence calm his mind until they arrive home. They will be okay, he knows it, they just have to get through the hazards in their way.

Thank you so much for reading! This one is for @bambihausen, who I promised I'd write this.

Dynamite made me a little upset okay?! Bryan's a jerk but I still love him. My poor Yoots though 😭

Much love as always!!

#the shield/bcc/renee poly #blackpool combat polycule #blackpool combat club #bcc polycule #the shield #wheeler yuta #bryan danielson #jon moxley #claudio castagnoli #william regal #renee paquette #seth rollins #roman reigns #angst #feral moxley #violent BCC boys being violent

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