#i felt like jon needed more of a lil shit expression

[arunneronthird]

a redraw of my favorite superman panel ever

#i felt like jon needed more of a lil shit expression #and so here he is #jon ships it #jon kent #jonathan kent #superboy #superman #dc comics #my art #ladies. gentlemen. you have eaten well.

[lilwenney]

looking for affection in all the wrong places (iv)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): *to the beat of lil jon’s ‘shots’* angst angst angst angst, alcohol, mentions of smut, people are shit at communicating, adrian  word count: 4k a/n: part i, part ii, part iii / playlist can be found here / woah boy. sad times are upon us. i realized while writing this that i need a friend like cleo. 

One night stands were awkward only if you allowed them to be. They were sloppy, rushes of lust filled with twinges of passion in the moment while the following morning were mostly always filled with regret. (Y/N) could count on two hands the times she had shuffled around a dark, foreign bedroom after a one night stand to find her clothes and leave as soon as possible, because well, she was now sober and sticking around until the sun came up in a stranger's room didn’t seem like an ideal way to spend her Saturday morning. 

But the morning after James’ last party with Will next to her in bed was anything but awkward, for reasons completely unknown. She never thought that laying in bed naked with one of her close friends would somehow be... comfortable? Relaxing? She didn’t know what it was. She thought she was still drunk and her shame hadn’t kicked in yet. 

Her and Will laid in bed at 11 a.m. Saturday morning, laughing as they looked at the photos that everyone had sent to the groupchat either the previous night or that morning. There was a photo of George hanging half-way off the back of the sofa, Ciarán had a birthday hat on, Simon had found (and fixed) the inflatable penis and was cuddling it on the bathroom floor, and there were numerous other photos of them dancing, group shots, or general nonsense like cup-stacking and beer pong.

There was never a time that she felt uncomfortable around Will, even right when they first met. They had met and became instant friends all in the same night. Throughout the years he had seen her naked, held her hair back while she threw up in a bush, they had made out now numerous times before, and now they were a notch in each other’s bedposts, but they laughed that morning like friends. 

Now she felt like she was teetering on the borderline of comfort and attraction. Was she just comfortable being around him, even while naked? Or was there an unspoken feeling deep down that she never acted on? Before, the thought of any of this happening wasn’t even a possibility, and now, they were here. And it happened. 

“I need to shower.” She yawned, locking her phone back and placing it on the nightstand. 

Will looked at the time on his phone and nodded, then yawning after her, “me too. You mind if I shower here?” 

“Ah, don’t care. You have clean clothes here from the last time you were over.” 

“When was that?”

“When Gee beat you at Monopoly and you left to stay here for the night.” There was a running theme here - Will was just really bad at board games and he was also a sore loser. 

“She cheated, y’know!” 

She shook her head with a smile, “whatever you say, love.” 

Will kicked his legs out from under the duvet and over the edge of bed, and when he stood up, she saw his butt in full view for the first time. “Oh my god you have a boy butt!” She shouted as he grabbed his briefs from the floor and slid them on. 

He turned around and looked at her with an amused expression, but a scrunched brow. “What are you waffling about?” 

Her bedroom was dark when they stumbled inside, neither of them willing to break away for just a second to flip on a light. Now she caught a glimpse of his behind for the first time and let out a small squeak in laughter. 

“Boy butts are weird Will. You have a long torso and such a little butt.” 

“Little butt?” He asked, shocked. “I have a perfectly plump bottom thank you.” 

She laughed, throwing the covers over her head, “just go take a shower.” 

Will shuffled around, grabbing his clothes so he could leave the room (without scarring Cleo), and he laughed before playfully throwing his jacket on top of (Y/N) as she remained under the covers. She giggled and uncovered her face as he walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. 

A few minutes after Will left, she got out of bed and got into the showering in her adjoining bathroom. Steam filled the tiled room as hot water poured down her back and washed away sweat and body glitter, the scent of berries filling the bathroom and her nose, allowing her to finally relax her tensed muscles and her shoulders. 

Stepping out of the shower door and wrapping herself in a towel, she opened the door to see the bedroom door ajar, so she knew that Will had come back in. She gave it a second, brushing her teeth before calling out; “Hey,” to see if he was actually in the room with her. When he made a noise back, she asked, “do doughnuts sound good to you right now?” 

“Immensely,” 

“Alright, then we’re getting doughnuts.” 

Within just a few minutes of drying her hair, (Y/N) was in a pair of joggers and a jumper, and her and Will were heading down in the lift to her car. Looking at themselves in the mirror of the lift and taking photos, she had a good laugh at Will’s outfit - black joggers and a baby blue jumper, but a pair of her neon yellow socks were shining underneath the cuff of his joggers. He didn’t leave any socks the last time he was over, so he settled for hers instead. When the lift doors opened to the car park and they stepped out, he told her to piss off and they both slipped into her car. 

For the middle of December that year, London’s weather wasn’t all too bad, except for the cold nights and rain that came around far too often. That afternoon she drove them through the rain, her wipers raking against the windshield almost on the beat to the music Will was playing. What would be a ten minute drive to Shoreditch any other time took them an unsurprising thirty minutes instead due to normal weekend London traffic. 

Sure the nearest place to get doughnuts was literally next door to her flat, but where she was taking Will was a hidden gem of a doughnut shop, and while (Y/N) loved it, taking thirty minutes to get there did test her patience. And Will’s. He had a low tolerance for traffic on a normal day, so this one was particularly worse, and she ignored his complaints by turning the music volume up and smiling at him in response and he rolled his eyes. 

Right in the middle of Shoreditch was a corner shop painted bright green, standing out among the other buildings in the bleak Winter. She pulled her car along the side of the street and her and Will piled out, stepping onto the pavement and walking across the street to the window. 

“Get whatever you want,” she said, crossing her arms to fight off the cool wind, “I’ll buy since you complained about it the entire time.” 

Will stared at the building, glanced at the menu, and then looked at her. “Didn’t mean to complain, I just don’t trust your taste in gourmet doughnuts.” 

She shot him a look and he tried to hold back a smile before she playfully slapped his arm. “Just go order something,” 

When Will stepped up to the register, eyes scanning over the array of doughnuts behind the glass and began picking and choosing, (Y/N) felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She switched her keys into her other hand and quickly fished out her phone, turning it over to look at the screen, expecting it to be Cleo, to be the groupchat. 

Adrian Russell Are you free today? 

When she first read over the text, she thought that she had misread the name, so she read it back in her head, spelling it out letter by letter until she realized she had not been mistaken. All it took for him to text her was a week and three days since the last time they spoke, nine hours since they were in the same room together. 

Her heart dropped at the realization of what was going on, a sudden heavy weight pushing on her shoulders. He was trying to come back to her. For the most part, she had completely gotten over him since unblocking his number a mere three weeks ago. There were no late nights crying herself to sleep or days spent sulking on the sofa with a mouth full of popcorn because he had yet to text her, instead she found solace in being single and going out with friends and surrounding herself with good people. 

And that was the slow understanding that she was no longer making out with Will at parties to make Adrian jealous. She was making out with Will because she wanted to. 

However, there was a twinge of mixed emotions that clouded in her head. She had spent the last year with Adrian, gave him everything she had to offer and more, and a piece of her longed for the familiarity of being with him, but the other half remembered most of the bad in the relationship. She was more in shock, her brain frazzled, trying to figure out what exactly broke the camel’s back for him. 

“Hey,” her head snapped up, watching Will take a step back from the window. 

“Oh,” she breathed out before looking at the cashier, “sorry.” 

(Y/N) quickly pocketed her phone and stepped forward, rambling out her usual order plus an additional few. Cleo would be pissed if she didn’t bring back one for her specifically, so she made sure to add in a few extra. 

Will took notice of her bouncing on her toes, one of her nervous habits. “You okay?” He asked when she finished her order and she nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Picking up the folded boxes of sweets, Will watched on while she tapped her card and paid for their food. He decided it wasn’t worth it, running the good mood they were having that morning, so he let go of her nervous mannerisms and they walked back to her car. 

Unlocking the doors from a distance, trying to combat the rain, they jogged quickly across the street and slid back inside to their seats. Will held the doughnut boxes in his lap, adjusting his seat-belt while (Y/N) turned on the engine and turned on the heat. 

“So how about a coffee?” He finally asked when she slid on her own seat-belt. 

She hummed, sitting back in her seat. “There is a Costa nearby, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, think so,” he nodded, “oh, and I got it this time, don’t worry.” When she didn’t say anything for a second, he turned his head to look at her, and she was smiling. “What’s that grin for?” 

“Do you even know my Costa order?” 

Will licked his lips and read off the order from memory, “regular iced latte with almond milk.” He said it with such certainty. It had been well over a year, but he still remembered her order from the time they had Costa delivered to his flat. She was persistent with the almond milk after all. 

Her smile grew even wider. She cared about the little things, that’s what made her happy. And Will remembering her coffee order was definitely one of those little things. “Damned you, what’s your order? I feel like a right shit friend.” 

“That’s for you to figure out and memorize yourself. Not playin’ easy here.” 

“Oh piss off,” she laughed again before pulling her car onto the street. 

***

It was rare for the friend group to hang out more than twice a week, and it was even more rare for the friend group to see each other more than three times in five days unless they were on holiday. But (Y/N) and Will became the exception; a Friday night party, a Saturday morning doughnut and coffee run, a Monday movie night at hers, and a Wednesday game night at his. 

He called her earlier in the day and she came around a few hours later, they had take-out and a few beers and then ultimately settled on playing video games that Will knew he would 100% beat her at. 

“This is all just muscle memory, love,” 

“Oh fuck off with that,” she cursed loudly, stretching her foot to the side to nudge his controller in attempt to throw him off. But Will was too quick, dodging her at the last second and crossing the finish line just inches ahead of her. A groan of agony followed a cheerful shout, then belly laughter at their drastically different reactions. 

She looked at Will as he tossed his controller down, hands thrown in the air in rejoice. In a bout of 2-out-of-3, Will had come out victorious with a last second pull away, securing his second win of the three races, and he celebrated by teasing, poking her cheek as he called out, “I told you I was gonna win!” 

While he was quite literally the only person on this planet who could annoy her, she was now realizing just how much she took these moments for granted. No weekends spent together or holidays with friends abroad was like this - it was just them in the most natural environment possible. 

Luckily for her, Will was starting to feel the same way. He found himself waking up in the mornings with his mind immediately on her, wondering what she was doing, wondering if there was a way he could see her. The days he was used to spending alone in his room editing until the early hours were no longer. His fingers always found her number in his phone. 

He didn’t understand it, really. How a friend for years was always just a friend until one night. 

Moving her legs from his lap, she allowed him to stand and stretch his long limbs. They had been playing games for a while - at first it was FIFA, that he absolutely destroyed her at until it was no longer fun, and then they switched to Mario Kart, which he was also having a blast beating her at. Video games were the only way he could beat her at a game, and she did well at reminding him of all the times he went bankrupt in Monopoly. 

“Want a beer?” He asked rounding the edge of the sofa, heading towards the kitchen.

She nodded while still focused on the screen, changing the color of Yoshi for the next race, “yes please.” 

After changing the color of Yoshi back to green, she was picky, she placed the controller down on her lap and waited for Will to walk back in. Her attention was elsewhere when she felt a phone vibrate on the sofa, and she immediately started to look for her own phone, but saw that it was Will’s phone instead - the screen lit up on the cushion next to her leg. 

It was a harmless glance, one she didn’t even really mean until she realized it far too late that it wasn’t her phone, but her stomach had already dropped. 

Hanna Day Missing you x

And just like that, they were coming back around. 

In all fairness, it took Hanna a few more days after the last party in comparison to Adrian’s handful of hours after. And (Y/N) rolled her eyes, trying to push out the idea of the girl that floated in her head. 

It was to no one’s surprise that Hanna and (Y/N) hadn’t got along well while Hanna and Will were dating. Hanna was the type to be your best friend one second, and then be behind your back the next, and everyone close to Will knew that, specifically the girl friends he had for years. Hanna was never fond of her boyfriend’s best friend, because there were always questions that revolved around their status as “just friends.” Just like how Adrian questioned it, too. 

But (Y/N) and Will’s friendship wasn’t even particularly new, they had been friends for years after meeting at Fabric, a London nightclub, just months after they both moved to the city. They met through Gee, Will’s flatmate, and by the end of the night (Y/N) was helping Will find his keys on the sticky nightclub dance floor and then wound up asleep on his sofa. And they were close ever since. 

It was the summer following their meeting that they crossed the line of “friends” while in Barcelona, but it was a line they never crossed again once returning to London. And it wasn’t much longer after than that, she and Adrian met through James and began dating, and then a handful of months later, Hanna and Will started dating too. So there was never any true reason for Hanna to dislike her - she just didn’t like the fact that Will had other female friends with a history of being close. For her own insecure reasons, (Y/N) assumed. 

“Was that mine?” Will asked, coming back from the kitchen, handing (Y/N) one of the uncapped beers he brought from the refrigerator. 

She nodded, immediately taking a sip before replying, “yeah, think so.” 

Out the corner of her eye, she watched Will sit back onto the sofa and reach for his phone, but his expression didn’t change after seeing the name across his screen. Deciding she didn’t want to know if he was replying or not, she focused back on the telly screen, flipping through the colors of her character again to occupy herself. 

“It’s Hanna,” was all he said before locking his phone back, placing it on the coffee table, now upside down. 

She played it off like she hadn’t seen it, raising a brow, “yeah?” 

Will hummed as he sat back against the cushion, immediately choosing his character and allowing the screen to move on. He didn’t say anything else, leaving it at that, but she felt obligated to say something. 

“Adrian texted me too,”

Will glanced at her hastily, “when?” 

She let out a deep breath, not meeting his eyes but watching the screen count down to one again before their race started, finding herself in an awkward limbo of telling him the truth or lying for the sake of whatever was going on between them. She knew that she should have told him before now, that she should have on Saturday, but she felt like it would have ruined everything. If she had told him right then, she doubted if he would have even come over Monday, if she would be on his sofa right now.

After all, they got what they wanted, right? They won. But it was feeling much more complicated than that. 

“Saturday,” she blurted out.

Will didn’t say anything for a moment, playing it off as focusing on the race instead of the thoughts racking his brain. He remembered Saturday afternoon in Shoreditch - sitting in her car eating doughnuts and drinking coffee on the side of the street while rain pattered down onto the roof, them laughing and listening to music while talking about anything that came to mind. And he remembered thinking at the time that her mind seemed elsewhere, but he decided not to push it for the sake of ruining their time together. 

It then clicked in his head that that was when Adrian texted her, when she looked like she saw a ghost at the doughnut shop.

“Yeah?” He asked casually. “Did you text him back?” 

She shook her head, “no,” 

There was a second of pause between them.

“Are you going to text her back?” 

But there wasn’t any hesitation for Will’s answer, “no,”

Later that night, after a few more games of Mario Kart, (Y/N) slumped back into her flat in Poplar. The door clicked shut and she tossed her keys down onto the foyer table, her ears picking up the sound of music coming from down the hallway. She followed the sounds to Cleo’s bedroom. Cleo didn’t even look up from her laptop, where she was writing an already extremely late paper for her history of cinematic fashion course, to see her flatmate fall face first into the duvet next to her. 

A few minutes passed and Cleo finished up her paragraph before asking, “and how are you?” 

“Don’t know, honestly,” she replied, voice muffled by the material of the duvet. 

“And that is because?” 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling on the inside.” 

Cleo leaned forward and sat her laptop on the bed, her attention now away from the linen skirts of a 17th century period piece and onto her flatmate, who at this time, hasn’t caught a break in two weeks. 

“You were at Will’s flat, yeah?” Cleo received just a nod in response before (Y/N) rolled over, head resting on her friend’s thigh. “So what happened?” 

“Everything was going really well, and then Hanna texted him.” 

“Hanna? Hanna Day?” 

She huffed. “Yeah, she was telling him that she missed him. I accidentally read it and now I wish I hadn’t read it because I feel sad.” 

Cleo reached down, running fingers across her cheek and then moving to play with her hair. “And why do you feel sad?” 

(Y/N) stared at the ceiling, opening herself up and releasing the feelings she had kept inside for the last few hours. It was hard for her to keep things in, but this was something she couldn’t particularly explain easily. Especially to Will. 

“I don’t know, really,” her voice was like a whisper, “I think - I think it’s because I’m scared he’ll go back to her. What we are doing is just something dumb to make them jealous, at first it was anyways..” 

Cleo frowned, feeling where the conversation was going. She hated seeing her best friend fall into a mess of feelings, but sometimes, it just happened, whether you wanted it or not.

“And now I don’t want it to stop. But I don’t want to do it just to make them jealous.” 

“Because you like him,” Cleo said softly. 

Her eyes drifted closed and she focused on the feeling of Cleo’s fingers then smoothing at her hair, and then running through the strands again, and she nodded. “Yeah,” she admitted, “because I like him.” 

Cleo was always the logical one of the two when it came to feelings. She liked to listen and then talk things through, so a lot of their friends relied on her for her wisdom in times of need. This was one of those moments.

“You wanted a sweet moment of revenge, but what you wound up with was an ex-boyfriend who texts you while you gained feelings for quite literally the only person you’re not supposed to have feelings for.” 

“I didn’t bloody mean to gain feelings for him.” She said harshly. “But it’s just nice - I don��t know, it’s nice that what I feel around Will is new, and it’s refreshing.”

“You were looking for that feeling in the wrong place, because you got yourself into quite a mess.” There was the brutal honesty, but it was what needed to be said. “But don’t beat yourself up over it, your feelings are just messed up and it’s understandable.” 

“What should I do?” 

Cleo let out a small breath, twirling the stands between her fingers. “First, I think you need to talk to him.” 

“I can’t talk to him about this. It’s embarrassin’.” 

The blonde sighed again, shaking her head at her friend’s stubbornness. “And then you need to figure out what you want.”

“It just sucks,” she said again and Cleo nodded, leaning down and placing her head on her arm, kissing the skin of her shoulder. 

“I know it does, I know it does,” she whispered, and their conversation died down, the music continuing on for them. 

#will #fic: affection #fanfic

[swervestrickland]

Thoughts on fyter fest? Bc I know your wrestling opinions are always valid

I don’t have the full picture! I went to go eat when it started, so I missed the first few matches.

My stream started while MJF was cutting the promo on the crowd and antagonizing them, though, and that was fucking beautiful. He’s so talented on the mic, and he plays his douchey rich college frat boy really well and I love it. He really does rival the Miz on that front.

The match that followed his promo, was so good! I mean, not just because my fave wrassle cowboy was in it, either. And tbh, he wasn’t even the best one in the match. Jungle Boy? Is a fucking legend, he’s so great! I gained a Lot of respect for him in this match. Jimmy Havoc, great as always and MJF was, still, a very good heel. It really makes me wonder whether they’re already setting this up for MJF to be Adam’s next opponent, whether he wins the AEW title or not.

Cody versus Darby Allen? Okay someone shoot me because I kinda ghosted this match, and I think it was because Cody came out wearing that Thronebreaker shirt of his and it really annoyed me. Like, a lot. Because at this point? They need to Stop using their anti-WWE stance as a way to get people to watch their stuff. It was a Fabulous way to get people to watch Double or Nothing, granted, and to gain traction with wrestling fans, but now? It’s just downright immature. That should’ve been a one-and-done deal, and then their marketing strategy after that should be “we have great quality matches, stellar quality story and character work, and the accessibility for our fans is a top priority,” not “hahaha fuck triple H and fuck vince.” So yeah, I kinda. Blanked out of the match because of that, up until the last five minutes. Darby Allen seems like a great wrestler, really swift and agile. But I had no emotional investment in the match and Cody threw me off. It was nice to see that Darby could hold his own with the de facto leader of the company though.

Now, I liked that Shawn Spears came out at the end of this match. It made me interested again, and it pulled me right in. I was all, “ooh, it’s Tye!”, until he hit Cody in the motherfucking head with a steel chair. That shit doesn’t fly around here, babes. That was fucking idiotic and stupid and I don’t know what that was meant to prove? Like was that a heel turn? I’m sure you could’ve done that a whole lot better because all it did was make Cody look like a fucking idiot for allowing himself to take that unsafe, complete unnecessary hit, and it made Shawn look like fucking unsafe bastard of a wrestler and that’s not cool.

You’re gonna laugh, but I blanked out a lot on the next match too. And it’s for the Absolute Dumbest reason: Kenny’s hair. What is he thinking? It looks awful. It’s so bad. Why does he do this? Anyway, it knocked me out cold up until I heard the bell ring and saw that the Elite won and I was like, “really, boys? really? all of y’all just gonna keep winning your matches?” but like. It’s their company I suppose and I guess I’ll give them a few more PPVs before I start getting Actually annoyed at them winning all the time.

Finally, the unsanctioned match. Joey Janela versus Jon Moxley. The fact that the ring announcer came back in, and explained the whole situation was good. Gave it that big match appeal. The lights going out? Fantastic. I still hate the idea of unsanctioned matches tho. Because I’m like. Why are the commentators still here. Why is the ring announcer announcing them. Why do they still get entrance music. Why are the cameramen still working. They should be clocked out. This shit is unsanctioned why is the president/CEO/whomever still allowing the rest of their employees to continue airing this while getting paid? Maybe I’m just a big idiot but I hate that lol.

But anyway, I love that you can Easily Feel how absolutely Excited Jon is to be back to his former character’s glory. It oozes out of him in everything he does. The walk to the ring, his saunter, his mouth, his facial expressions, his everything. I am so Damn Happy that he is doing well for himself right now. This is what he was made for. And I know I’m not talking much about his opponent, but I’ll be honest, I know next to nothing about him. He was great, though. I loved his cockiness, his confidence, how wonderfully goofy he was. It wasn’t the kind of character I expected to go toe-to-toe with Jon Moxley, but it worked. It did work. And I respect the Hell out of both of them for those barbed wire spots, table/ladder spots, and oh my god those thumbtack spots. My god. (Emi: chair shots to the head are SO UNSAFE. Also Emi: KILL EACH OTHER WITH BARBED WIRE !) lol uhh. we’re all hypocrites here I suppose.

Anyway, after the match, I did actually enjoy Kenny beating the shit out of Mox. (Tho his hair was still....awful). I mean, an eye for an eye right? Mox came out and roughed Kenny up a lil bit last time, so Kenny came out to return the favor. Once they get on TV, though, I hope it happens less. I’ve always felt like opponents should do their best to Stay Away from each other, as opposed to always seeing each other before their matches, and on a frequent basis. It makes me lose the anticipation. But because I’ve only seen them twice, about a month apart between PPVs, it worked.

I absolutely Have to go back and watch the first few matches. I heard Nyla Rose killed it in hers? I def have to go back and see.

#emi replies #astrobeam #lol i wish i couldve. #had more opinions. but legitimately the Dumbest things make me tune out Nowadays #it’s the habit you form when all you watch for the most part is shitty wwe programming #aew #fyter fest

[nyangibun]

Little Wolf: Part II

@jonsa-countdown

PART I: REUNITED - AO3 LINK

PART II: STORM

It had rained endlessly for days. There were puddles the size of the loch outside of her house. If she wasn’t already on maternity leave, she would’ve called in sick to avoid drowning. There was a storm brewing in from the east, according to the weather report. People were urged to avoid driving unless necessary, but there had been an increase in accidents anyway. Sansa tried to avoid listening to the news after that. She didn’t want to know. Three months later, and it still hurt like it had just happened yesterday.

Sansa bounced Chloe on her hip. The baby girl was fussy during a rainstorm. She hated the sound of pitter-patter on the rooftop; it kept her awake and the lack of sleep was beginning to drain the both of them. Sansa couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a good six hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Sansa murmured quietly, walking into the kitchen. The cup of tea she had made for herself sat cold and forgotten - immediately neglected as soon as the baby monitor started to echo with Chloe’s cries. “It’s just the rain. We like the rain.”

The baby girl sniffed and stared up at Sansa with wide teary eyes. The look was eerily like disbelief - like this nine-month-old had understood what Sansa was trying to say and she clearly didn’t buy it.

“Okay, maybe you don’t like it now,” she amended, chuckling. She turned away from the kitchen, deciding tea was not going to help now anyways, and went back into the lounge. She settled onto the sofa and wrapped them both up in a large quilt. “But you will one day, Chloe. Rain signifies rebirth. That’s what we’re doing.” She poked her chubby cheeks gently. “We’re cleansing away the bad and we’re starting anew. Together, me and you. We’re a family now.”

Chloe blew raspberries up at her. It wasn’t much of a response, but it still made Sansa smile in spite of the heavy weight on her chest. It was still so hard. Everything about this situation was so painfully surreal. Her nights, in the moments she could find sleep, were consumed with flashing images of red and blue sirens, the sound of screeching tires, and lifeless eyes staring back at her. They were so demanding, so judging - as if they were there to say she wasn’t doing enough, strong enough or brave enough to weather this new path her life had taken.

Sansa cuddled Chloe tighter, pressing her nose up against the baby’s temple. “I love you, lil’ wolf,” she said softly. “I love you so much, but I’m so scared I’ll mess this all up. You deserve so much better than I can give. You deserve your real parents.”

Oh, how Robb would’ve doted on his little girl; how much he would’ve wanted to watch her grow up, intimidate her boyfriends or girlfriends as she was picked up for a date - oh, it would’ve been so sweet to have seen that.

Unbidden tears ran down her cheeks. She normally tried to reign it in for Chloe, but the loss was still so new. Every time she looked at this little girl, she saw Robb’s hair, the cheeky smile on her little face and Margaery’s eyes. She saw so much of their love in her. How could she replace them like that? How could she sit here and claim to be this girl’s mother when she had such a wonderful one?

The door creaked open and the wind howled from the outside, droplets of rain flying around the room for the five seconds it took for the person to close the door.

“It’s pissing it down outside. You’re lucky you don’t have to -” He paused, stopping just a few feet away from her. “Sans, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” She kissed Chloe’s forehead and hid her face in the quilt. “I’m fine, Jon.”

She heard a thump from where he must’ve dropped the bags of grocery. A second later, she felt his arm wrap around her. “Tell me.” He tilted her face with his free hand so she’d be forced to look at him. The tears had stopped, but they stained her cheeks, drying like visible tracks of weakness. She hated letting anyone see her like this. But it always seemed to be Jon who found her at her worst. “You’re not fine, so don’t bother lying.”

Chloe made a displeased noise then, as she wriggled in Sansa’s arms, trying to get to Jon. The action seemed to startle him, as if he had forgotten about the tiny girl for a moment. He pried Chloe loose from the quilt and kissed her soundly on one cheek and then the other, causing her to giggle loudly.

“Always want to be the centre of attention, don’t you, Chlo?” Jon laughed. “You’re just like your father, you know that?”

“And her mother too,” Sansa reminded him, to which he laughed again.

“Aye, and her mother.”

In the quiet that befell them, Sansa listened to the sound of the rain outside. It was hard to believe in the words she spoke to Chloe when her own grief was so consuming, like a black hole sucking her very existence inward and ripping it apart. She held it in as best as she could, but Sansa was only human. She could only withstand pain for so long.

“You don’t have to be brave in front of us.” Jon was watching her, one hand cupping the back of Chloe, while the other gently circled her wrist. “We’re both here for you.” His thumb rubbed soothing circles along her skin.

A sob broke free in spite of her resistance. She shook her head. “I’m just tired… I’ll be fine.”

“When was the last time you slept?” He edged forward to better study her; she knew he was taking note of the circles under her eyes and the pallid complexion of her skin. He’d always been observant. “Sansa, answer me.”

“I don’t know. Last night for a couple hours,” she said, averting her gaze. Lying was pointless anyways. And she no longer had the energy to put up a front with Jon, not like she did whenever her mother or her siblings came around.

“Okay.” The word was weighted, holding heavier meaning than its two syllables, but she couldn’t read through it this time. Not in the way she normally could with Jon.

Another silence followed, and then Jon was standing. “She’s asleep. I’m going to go put her down. I’ll be right back.”

She watched his retreating form and marveled for a moment over how easily those two could pass for father and daughter. They had the same mop of curly dark hair, the same quiet, easy temperament. Oh, this was dangerous territory. Sansa could see that. But in order to ease the panic so ready to flare up inside of her, she escaped to the kitchen and filled up the kettle with water. She emptied her mug from earlier and replaced it with two new blue rose-printed mugs - a gift from her mother when she moved away for university seven years ago.

Sansa heard him enter the room. She could feel his eyes following her as she moved around the tiny kitchen to prepare the tea. “Still milk and no sugar?” The confirming ‘aye’ led to another bout of silence. It was becoming a regular occurrence. She thought it might have ceased when he moved permanently back to Scotland, but there it was, an ever-looming chasm between them.

“Let me move in.’

The mug tipped in her surprise. She managed to hold on long enough to drop it with a clatter on the countertop, but hot liquid spilled onto her hand. “Shit,” she ground out, sucking her injured fingers in between her lips.

“God, I’m so sorry, Sans.” Jon was beside her in seconds, pulling her fingers away and and tugging her gently towards the sink. He ran the tap over her hand, tentatively turning it this way and that so the cold water could ease the heat. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not bloody okay,” she snapped, scowling at him. “You just asked to move in with me. What the hell, Jon?”

He sighed, sounding almost as exhausted as she felt. “I can’t look out for you two if I’m never around. It makes sense.”

“Us living together does not make sense,” Sansa fervently argued. “It would be a disaster, Jon, and you know it.”

Jon dropped her hand as if she had been the one to drop scalding water on him. The hurt was there even if only for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know that,” he said softly, though no less firmly. “Do you really think we wouldn’t work well together in raising Chloe? Or is this about -”

“I think we’re already doing so much,” Sansa interrupted. “I don’t need you to give up your life for me. I’m fine on my own.”

“Oh, I know.” The bitterness was unmistakeable, and she had half a mind to tell him off for dredging up things he shouldn’t, but he spoke before she could get a word in. “But you don’t need to do this alone. I’m just as much her parent now as you are. I want to be there for her, Sansa. Please.”

The expression in his eyes left her breathless. He was already there, she realised. Where Sansa continued to struggle with being a mother and not an aunt to Chloe, Jon was already there. He already loved her as he would his own daughter; he didn’t want to lose a minute of his time with her, and how could Sansa be so cruel as to keep him away?

“Promise me the minute this doesn’t work, you move out.”

Again, hurt flashed in his grey eyes, and Sansa had to swallow down the guilt. She needed to protect Chloe as much as she did herself. There was a long and complicated past that Sansa couldn’t expose the baby girl to. If it became a problem, she had to make sure Jon was willing to leave.

“I promise.”

“Okay…”

They stared at each other for some time after that. A hundred different stories passing between them in silent contemplation - a past they could no longer return to, a present they could hardly keep up with, and a future they could only hope for.

Abruptly, the sky thundered above, like a thousand dragons roaring overhead to conquer lands unseen. Half a second later, the baby monitor wailed. Just like clockwork.

“I’ll get this,” Jon said, touching her forearm. He stepped forward, hesitant, and then kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest, Sansa. I’ll wake you up for supper.”

“Are you -”

“Sleep, Sans. I’m here now.”

He retreated from the kitchen. Sansa sighed, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room. The mugs of tea once more forgotten, likely cold now. She wasn’t up for tea anymore anyways. As petty as she wanted to be about not needing Jon as much as she really did, her body had different plans and she begrudgingly dragged her feet to her bedroom. The second her head hit the pillow, Sansa was out like a light, three months of grieving and trying to be a mother to an orphaned child taking its toll on her.

When she next woke, the sun had all but disappeared from the sky; although it hadn’t been that present as of late here in this part of Scotland. Winterfell had always been a town cursed with abysmal weather. She pulled herself up to a sitting position, bracing her back up against the headboard of the bed.

It was pointless to wait out this conversation now that she was awake. But even as the phone rang, her heart thumped anxiously.

“Hi, hun. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sansa answered, speaking quietly in fear of Jon being on the other side of the door. “I did something stupid, Jeyne.”

“It was only a matter of time,” her best friend joked, but when she didn’t laugh in response, she heard a sigh come in from the other line. “What happened, Sans?”

“Jon came over and… he asked to move in with me and I said yes.” Now that the words were out, Sansa found she couldn’t stop talking. “I know it’s a bad idea, a terrible one even, but Jeyne, you should’ve seen his face. It wasn’t about me or what happened. This was about Chloe and he loves her so much. I know it pains him to be away from her, and… and how can I keep him from her, right?”

There was a long pause before, “oh Sansa.” Her best friend sighed again. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You two have been trying to make this thing work while having one feet in and one feet out. For Chloe’s sake, it’s good you’re doing this.”

“Really?” Sansa had to admit the level of incredulity in her voice was bordering on dramatic, but after all the fuss Jeyne kicked up about how she had to remember to protect her heart if she was ever going to survive Jon Snow being back in town, she expected more.

“I know, I know,” Jeyne said. “But Chloe needs you both. That’s all that matters right now.”

Of course, her friend was right - again.

“So you think it’s a good idea that Jon moves in?” she had to make sure.

“For Chloe, yes. For you? No.”

“Great…” Sansa thumped her head back against the headboard. This was just great.

“I know. But for what it’s worth, I think you’ll be okay. All three of you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Jeyne chuckled. “You and Jon love Chloe more than anything else in the world. And past or no past, you both love each other too. In whatever capacity, it doesn’t matter. You trust each other.”

“Yeah…” she murmured. In whatever capacity. Somehow that didn’t ease the dread curdling in her stomach. Somehow the capacity mattered to her; she just didn’t quite know in which way she wanted it yet.

Barely ten minutes after she hung up with Jeyne, Jon came to knock on her door. She followed him out to the lounge where her dining table had been unfolded and placed to the side. There were two bowls of spaghetti bolognese set on opposite ends and a bottle of milk on the side where a high chair had been placed.

“Roses, really Jon?”

“They’re for Chloe,” he said, a faint smirk on his lips, as he bent over to kiss the baby girl on her forehead. She giggled. “She’s quite the princess, you know? Kept babbling about ruling Scotland and seceding from Britain.”

“Oh, how very Jacobite of her.” Sansa rolled her eyes at him and settled herself into the seat. “We’ll make a revolutionary of her yet.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, meeting her eyes and laughing.

She twirled her fork in the spaghetti and took a generous helping. It’d been too long since she had a real hot meal; the realisation of this becoming clear to her as the homemade taste satiated a previously unknown craving.

“This is delicious.” She glanced up towards him. “Jon, thank you. I mean it. This is really good.”

He shrugged, but there was a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “You won’t be saying that when you find out I only know how to cook three dishes.”

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence? I only know how to cook four dishes. Together, we can have a different meal for each day of the week.”

“What do you know, we fit together perfectly.”

The words so teasing in their intention quickly charged the atmosphere between them with something unspoken. It could’ve gotten so much more awkward if Chloe didn’t suddenly decide she was unhappy with her bottle and threw it to the ground.

“Told you. Princess Chloe is unhappy with the state of the Commonwealth, Sansa.”

And just like that, the tension dissipated.

Just like the storm outside.

#jonsacountdown #jonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #game of thrones #jonsa countdown #little wolf fic #day 2 storm #long post #jonsa fic #my fics

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(ʃƪ ˘ ³˘)

Send  "(ʃƪ ˘ ³˘)“ & ramsay will respond how he feels about your muse with a kiss | @watcherandshield​

not accepting

modern:▌☠ ▌ ❝ —–i love you. ❞ does he say that often ? it doesn’t seem so. but that’s only because he would rather show it than say it. Ramsay isn’t as POETIC as Jon, doesn’t know how to express the butterflies fluttering or the way his heart sings loudly — wanting to burst. so he does what he believes he does best. show him. Ramsay cups Jon’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing against scruffy beard. beaming; the Bolton man captures Jon’s lips with his own.  — KISSING him passionately, spilling his HEART OUT, melting deep within the kiss.—– he loves him and proves it by putting all that he felt for Jon in this kiss.

when they separate, he can’t help but smirk cockily— laughing gleefully. another kiss is planted on his boyfriend, this time at the bridge of his nose—– ( not just once, but twice ! ) he kisses him there because he can’t help but treasure the Stark man. they’ve been through the good, the bad and the ugly. sometimes ALL at once. and through those horrifying nightmares, Jon stuck to his side like glue. not only does he value his other half, but their moments together as one. he doesn’t end there, placing several more, kissing him on the lips, chin, jaw and eyelids. he’s suffocating the Stark with all this mushy shit, help him now. ❝ — makin’ me all fuckin’ mushy. how do you do that ? jus’ when i’m ‘round you i’m……. i don’t know. i like it. ❞ he rolled his eyes in a playful manner— GOD, he adored this man, so ( fucking much. )   ❝ what would the kids we used to go to school with say ? hearin’ stories ‘bout lil’ ol’ me smothering JON STARK with fuckin’ kisses ? ❞ Ramsay played with his hand,— tracing long digits, drawing at the palm of his hands. —- ( writing their names with his finger as he submerges in his thoughts.—– thinking of how fortunate he is. )  RAMSAY entwined their hands together, bringing the other man’s fingertips to his twin flesh, kissing each and every one of them. —- he tells Jon what he admires MOST about him, how HE’S his motivation.  reason to exist and also his reason to chill the fuck out — ( s o m e t i m e s. ) BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, how much he looked up to him. ❝ you’re my hero, my soul mate… partner in fuckin’ crime. my other half. my rock. i admire you, baby boy. ❞

lips: love Fingertip: Praise/AdmirationThe Bridge of Nose: TreasuringEyelid: Adoration

main:

▌☠ ▌ ❝ mineee. ❞  he WHISPERED possessively against the STARK BASTARD’S ear, flickering velvet muscle at his earlobe in a teasing like manner, biting and sucking at the tender flesh. Ramsay Bolton fingertips glided over the scars that scattered across the bastard’s torso— it’s art. azure hues momentarily gaze into soft gray irises before drifting down at his chest, and leaning to place a soft KISS just above the stark bastard’s beating heart.—– it’s an odd gesture coming from Ramsay, but there is a MEANING behind the gentleness of the kiss. he didn’t FANCY the idea of others marking Jon, it made the bastard’s blood SCORCH with hatred. Jon was his to do as he pleased.he drags his bottom lips across Jon’s collarbone and along his neck, lingering to taste him. he BREATHES the PURENESS of the angel in, desiring his scent and his affection —-his HUMANITY. he found that he didn’t just WANT the bastard, but needed him. the GODS have indeed punished the Bolton bastard, of course. something he wasn’t used to. ( l u s t ) —- it was lust ? he told himself he lusted after the other bastard. nothing more. —– he kisses his throat. ( he  d e s i r e d  him. ) in every way imaginable. it wasn’t the sex the Bolton thought he CRAVED, it was the heart Jon Snow contained that Ramsay desired desperately.  ❝ —-as fun as this is, i have better things to attend to … . ❞ he speaks out suddenly to break the silence, raking long digits through his dark short locks. keen on the idea of leaving ( & fast. )why doesn’t he stop himself — he wonders ? sweeping dark curls from Jon’s eyes and kissing at matted hair.  ( not wanting to leave, but knowing it is for the best. ) a sin, he is…. one to break laws and commit CRIMES against the world. the Bolton bastard gathered his belongings and walks by the lord commander —- ( announcing his leave ) — but he paused midway, cursing at himself — ( at himself? ) for doing this. glancing over his shoulder, he stares at the back of Jon’s head – fighting the urge to lay back down and sleep a while longer. 

he may have battled the urge to do such a thing, but he doesn’t resist the urge to place one final kiss at the nape of his neck— murmuring against pale skin. ❝ it shouldn’t be this way between us. i shouldn’t have become attached to the likes of YOU, bastard. but it’s too late… we’re going to hell.  ❞

nape : deep attachment Chest: PossessionHair: Irresistible LongingThroat: Desire

#watcherandshield #▌☠ ▌·lᴏᴠᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴡᴇ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅ;ғᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛs’ ( ramsay & jon ) #▌☠ ▌'ᴬ ʳᵃᵛᵉᶰ ʰᵃˢ ᵃʳʳᶤᵛᵉᵈ’ ( inbox ) #▌☠ ▌'ᴿᵉˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵠᵘᵉᵘᵉˢ’ ( queue )