"Touché, pussycat!"

“do you wanna hold him?”

ilya’s moving forward before he can process the words and everyone’s holding their breath as he gathers the newborn into his arms, pausing to take his gloves off first. it’s a few tense seconds before the baby babbles and shifts slightly before tucking his head into the crook of his arm and swiftly falling to sleep.

ilya looks up to see his whole team stifling grins, “i think we’ve found the new babysitter” and he bites back a chirp because he doesn’t want to wake the baby he’s holding so delicately to his chest.

he’s stuck on the sidelines for the whole practice while he rocks the baby through the slams against walls, waving its little arm towards its dad when it eventually wakes up.

Eye of the Storm, by Harut Danielyan, 2025

Chapter 17 is up! Sorry for the wait on this one. I’ve been working on this and another fic plus I went to visit my favorite people in Nashville. You might know them 😉

So I’ve been thinking. About you – us. About the beginning. How everything could have gone so many different ways, and it didn’t. It all went the way it did, and I got to know you.  I got to marry you.

His hand moves to his chest pocket – taps it twice, over the name etched there.

And I carried a part of you all the way out here.

obsession-fueled "poster" for

dead reckoning by @sinnabonka

rated e | 1k | angst | sad jerking off | one-sided buddie | post-episode coda

Where he started vs where he's at.