#( and make death proud to take us. )

[ofmd-ann]

It's a tough job but someone's gotta do it

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

Ooh if you’re still in your jyncass era prayer beads for the November prompts? If not feel free to apply to any pairing you like

Kassa remembers Mami's beads.

A multi-strand bracelet wrapped around her wrist, made out of smooth, dark brown wood, each one lovingly carved by Kassa's bisabuelo, handed down from father to father to daughter. Each one knotted on the long, tough fibers they used to weave their cloaks. Mami would thumb off each bead and say, Stella. Benedicíon. Rosa. Teo. Benedicíon.

Depending on the family, some bead strings would have twenty, thirty, maybe even forty. Kassa's family was the only one in the whole village that had fifty-five. He'd been so proud of that, fifty-five ancestors, and each name spoken like a blessing.

The beads were beautiful, but they weren't meant for just prayer. Mami could flick her wrist and snap them out like a whip; wrap them twice around an opponent's neck before they could make a step towards her. Once they were older, Mami had promised to teach him and Kerri how to use them. The day the Imperials came to Kenari, Mami had unwound the beads from where they lived around her wrist, and prayed through gritted teeth: "Franco. Ayúdanos." Franco had been the name of Kassa and Kerri's abuelo. That's when Kassa truly understood the trouble they were in. You only ever called upon the ancestors if you were in the direst need.

Mama had been wearing the beads when she and Papa had been killed. Kassa had unwrapped the beads from around her wrist and taken them back to the remains of the village, now the camp where and all the other children and teenagers slept. Between him and Kerri, they slept with them shared in their clenched fists every night.

He'd given the beads to Kerri right before he left for salvage. Mostly to stop her fussing at him for going out and leaving her, again, but also because he was the oldest, and that meant, Papa told him often enough, making sacrifices. For your sister, mijo. A calloused, gnarled hand, but still so strong, gently ruffled his hair. He'd wrapped them around his sister's wrist and said, "Keep them safe for me, si?" She nodded solemnly, awed by the responsibility.

He never saw those beads again.

/

Cassian didn't touch the beads, Jyn noticed.

They jumbled together in the trappings of a cover identity Command had worked out for them, a laborer couple out to make a few credits in an Imperial factory. The quartermaster had given them a hastily assembled bundle of clothing, accessories and other such things and Cassian had looked barely concealed disapproval. "It's got to have continuity," he muttered, going through the mismatched contents of their go bags.

Jyn followed his example, but honestly, she didn't really care. She learned how to make do with almost nothing in the last fifteen years. Being handed an entire bag worth of clothes, shoes and gear felt like the height of luxury. The beads slipped out of the tangle of items, falling amongst the scarves and layers they'd been given. Jyn was surprised--jewelry wasn't common item in the quartermaster's supplies--but Cassian saw them and just--stopped, for a second. As if recalling something.

"Oh," he said, looking at the beads. "Where did--?" he looked around the bunk where their items had been laid out by the two of them. "Did those come with the clothes?"

"They did," Jyn confirmed. "Do you know what they're supposed to be?"

Cassian paused, still looking at the beads, his normally quick hands still. "They're--they're an ancestor strand. Or beads. Each bead means a family member who came before you."

Jyn glanced down at the necklace. There had to be at least thirty beads on the cord. "Did this belong to someone?"

"It must've," Cassian said, his tone oddly blank. "Most--most of the effects are donated, or--if a member of the Rebellion is killed in action...they're asked, beforehand, if they want their personal effects want to be donated to the stores so it can be reused or repurposed, or sent back to their families, if we can manage it. Most choose to donate."

Jyn's hand closed around her kyber crystal unthinkingly. Each bead on the strand meant someone's family. Fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles. Grandparents. "Then...whoever this belonged to..."

"They might not have had family to send it back to," Cassian said. His voice was quiet now, just stating a fact they knew all too well.

The beads lay on the bunk innocuously. Each one had been carefully, precisely carved. Dark brown wood, well-polished from years of use. "Do--do you want them?" Jyn asked uncertainly. She didn't think it would be right for her to use them.

Cassian looked at the beads. His voice grew strange, distant. "My family had a strand of beads like this. Fifty-five on a cord. " He gave himself a slight shake and carefully picked it up, wrapped it multiple times around his wrist. His movements looked like something he had seen done a dozen different times. "It will come in handy if others have them," he told Jyn, steady again. "That way they can recognize us as someone they can trust."

Jyn nodded slowly, seeing the sense of that. They gleamed on Cassian's wrist, an unbroken line. "Who will they be?" she asked. "The beads?"

Cassian glanced down at his wrist. "They'll be my family," he said simply. "Everyone who came before me, and..." he glanced at Jyn, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth. "Everyone's who with me now."

That pleased Jyn inordinately, so she ducked her head to hide her own small smile.

[autumnoficarus]

i can't stop listening to the 'purpose is glorious' track from this season's ost and thinking about how lovely the title and its meaning are. it's just such an amazing underlying theme in this show, and - while i do have criticisms about some of the choices made for the series finale - i really do feel the writers wholeheartedly delivered in sending that message home. for me personally, loki's ending is so gratifying and a large part of that is solely from viewing their arc's conclusion with the perspective of this theme in mind. to have spent years watching this character i hold very dear to my heart struggle to find belonging, to feel as though they matter and there is reason in their existence, finally get a chance to show - and recognize - their worth was so, so rewarding. and honestly, i think the message behind the phrasing of 'purpose is glorious' is all the more meaningful because of how loki's arc finished. yes, the outcome was bittersweet; yes, we're left knowing loki didn't get the happiness they undeniably earned after everything they'd gone through. it smarts something fierce to know their journey up until they deviated from their timeline and became a variant, as well as seen their eventual intended fate. the ache is only worsened after witnessing everything that happens within the TVA and the entirety of loki's character growth leading up to a redefining moment where they willingly choose to undergo a nightmarish amount of time in the endeavor to do the right thing. of course we want them to emerge victorious when they've struggled for so long, but that's not the point. loki's final moments are them forfeiting their right to a happy ending to preserve the stories of others because all stories matter and should inherently reserve the free will to be written; as sylvie says, loki makes their choice so their loved ones and life across the multiverse still have a chance to belong somewhere and embrace their place in the world. the take away is that even burden can be glorious. even with all the hardships of life - all the inevitable heartache, disappointment, and grief we encounter just by being alive - we have meaning in our existence. there is meaning in the trials we face, and the suffering we endure in order to overcome them. our pain gives us purpose; it gives us the ability to love, to grow from and for each other, and choose to sacrifice our happiness for the benefit of another. loki's purpose was forged in the bonds of those they met in their time at the TVA and the sense of value they gained from their companionship. their sacrifice perfectly conveys how the human capacity to love is one of cosmic greatness, which can ultimately surpass our instinctual desire to preserve one's self. we can move immovable mountains and challenge insurmountable adversity in behalf of the ones we love and their welfare. if that isn't an act deserving of glory, I don't know what is.

tldr; loki's purpose is the friends they made along the way = as the saying goes, 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'. or: our own lives have purpose because of the connections we share with others, even when we are met with great loss.

[raayllum]

1x03 / 1x08 / 2x07 / 3x06 / 3x08 / 3x09 / 4x03 / 4x06 / 4x07 / 4x09

[priincekiller]

[halechief]

grip, platonic, obviously. maybe even ... when she's ... y'know.... almost bleeding out : )

send “grip” to grip my muse’s jaw in your muse’s hand. @newsworth.

claire is not terribly familiar with the sound of gunshots.

or, maybe that's inaccurate. there is a memory tangled at the back of her mind, slotted somewhere before coming into her own, but after losing the last of her innocence - it sounds like the sharp single remark of a 1950 colt revolver, silence, and then a thud. the ringing of her own ears. further toward the front, there's the memory of lucas goodwin's attempt on her husband's life. five ear - splitting rounds, if she remembers right, ( she does. she's watched the footage over and over. two from lucas, not in succession, the second while being grappled to the ground. three from edward after he'd fallen. ) but over the cacophony of shouting, the chanting of no more wars, of f. u. underwood, and then the curdled, nauseating screaming, she couldn't say that of everything, it was the sound of the shots that stuck in her mind.

further still to the forefront, there is the sound of a lone bullet colliding with the ballistic glass of a motorcade, the crystalline shatter, the webbing crack that bloomed before she'd flattened against the leather upholstery. the furious beating of her own heart, the oceanic chorus of blood in her ears. stay down. stay down! shots fired. a hand at the side of her head, not quite touching, just preceding the weight of a body settling over her own. shielding her own. are you okay, madam president? are you alright? ( yes, she'd lied, with a vigorous shake of her head. ) and finally : lone star is safe.

( that time, the officer had lied. she never would be. she knows it, now. )

there is a level of familiarity, yes. but it still takes until the second shot, for her to recognize the sound for what it is.

pain emerges first, and quite vividly through the confusion of her delayed thoughts, radiating from her shoulder into her collarbone and throat, the reserved grey of her blouse darkening rapidly. the third catches her as she turns, an instant before her detail completes the convergence around her, searing along the side of her neck, and she distantly registers the sound of glass shattering somewhere behind her after the fact, muffled as though through layers of cotton. her hand lifts to her throat, and she is confused to find it already slick with blood, hotter than expected, dripping down her throat and disappearing into the open neck of her shirt. the fabric itself has been torn aside slightly, cool november air stealing along the spaces left bared, and as her vision finds the wavering image of her hand held up before her, stained red, redder by far than the paint she thinks to compare it to, she notes the thin tendrils of steam that rise from it, matching the mist of her exhaled breath.

she sways on her feet, and as the steps underfoot begin to rise rapidly to meet her, so too does she feel the pressure of several hands pressing her downward, their voices joined together with the noise of the crowd, only one left distinguishable above the din, for how close it is to her.

"claire." his fingers are not trembling when they try to grasp her face, turning her gaze to him, his body hunched, the two of them crammed together underneath the bodies that move to shield her again, that shield both of them. what does it take, claire wonders dimly, to value your life beneath another's? she wants to live. she knows it distinctly, feels the fact of it beating incessantly against the closing of her throat. christopher. she tries to say it, and cannot manage, her stained hand instead lifting to grasp his wrist as his fingers move to her throat, aided in the slide by the blood that wets them, and he is . . . so calm. so incredibly calm. she would have smiled, but in her periphery, she sees another body lying prone, polished shoes pointing up to the sky, and she doesn't know who they belong to. they could be edward's. they could be scott's. "claire, you're going to be fine. don't move. don't close your eyes. just look at me."

she does, until the moment that she can't. until the moment his quiet directions begin to fall on deaf ears. until her body goes weightless, grasping hands lifting her into the back of a vehicle, and her eyes blink, slowly, too slowly, and finally an edge of hysteria slithers into his voice. "claire. claire, no. keep your eyes open . . . stay with me. please."

[inkstained-dragon]

Some of you will never understand what it feels like to want so badly to fly. To be airborne, to let the world fall away beneath your feet. Feeling the air rush past your face is a high that I'll probably never be able to achieve. That's part of the reason dragons appeal to me- They can just fly whenever they want.

The word for this feeling is "mahpiohanzia". The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows describes this perfectly.

n. the disappointment of being unable to fly, unable to stretch out your arms and vault into the air, having finally shrugged off the ballast of your own weight and ignited the fuel tank of unfulfilled desires you’ve been storing up since before you were born.

Which is exactly how I, and many others feel. I want so badly to just jump and not come down for a while. To soar through clouds, and glide into rainstorms. Looking down at the world you've been stuck on for so long. Knowing that you can leave at any time you want.

Dragons are the perfect embodiment of mahpiohanzia. Strong, wild, free. We all feel the same.

Am I describing it right? Do you feel the same? Anything to add? I wish you safe travels and happy dreaming, Friend.

[koling2345]

Just Simon with a cute new recruit. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Lieutenant! Simon who: Thought you'd be just another recruit, until he saw that you were such a cute little bird. So obedient and pliable, always listening to what he had to say without refuting it.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Never even looked at any recruit in a different way until you arrived on base. The way you looked at him with sweet little eyes and called him 'Sir' was almost a symphony in his ears.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Loved it when you asked him for help with something on the base, sometimes purposely disappearing with things, only to see you coming after him to find out where that item was.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Made a point of training you, he never let any other superior do it. Not even Johnny. Simon wanted to be solely responsible for your success, or rather, he wanted to be solely responsible for giving you orders. And watching you obey them.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Started glaring daggers at any other soldier who looked at you. Not only that, but any soldier who even spoke to you or flirted with you was magically given a month's worth of hard duties. What a shame ;(

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was in charge of you at the gym, giving you several repetitions of exercises, never passing up an opportunity to put you in some positions that were a bit... Lewd, to say at least. Always keeping a close eye on every exercise you did, his eyes roaming over your body as you knelt down to stand up when you finished a set. The sight always made his pants a little tight.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Always gave you heavy workouts, tiring you to the limit. Just to make sure you'd get tired enough, then he'd have the excuse of helping you to get your bearings. Putting a hand on your lower back. Sometimes even being bold enough to put his hand on your waist, pulling your body against his in an attempt to help you. And if you were really, really tired, he could carry you on his shoulders. No, it wasn't an excuse to stare at your ass and thighs, feeling your body pressed against his. He swore it was just his good intention, he just wanted to help!

Lieutenant! Simon who: Would let you sleep in his room, there was a storm and the base was without power, you didn't want to be alone because you were scared. And he wouldn't let you be alone after learning that you were afraid of thunder, poor thing. That night he wrapped you up in his sheets, pulling you into his lap as he comforted you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Helped you forget the fierce storm outside, pumping his thick fingers into your pussy, slipping in and out of you, scissoring and curving inside you. He made you come once, twice, three times, enough to make you tired and sleep on his lap, in the mess you made on his thighs, and he didn't care. In fact, he was proud to see the mess you'd made, that he'd given you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: After spending one night with you, he refused to sleep in separate rooms, so every night he dragged you to his room, at which point he already considered you his cute little thing. Normally, he would hold you all night with a death grip, so don't even try to escape.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Couldn't sleep peacefully until he'd buried his cock in you. Sleep only came to him after he had slid his thick cock into your wet folds, deep into your tight warmth. Slamming into you without mercy, he swears that his lullaby is your whimpering sounds under him.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was mean to you, used you until he had his fill. It didn't matter if you'd already come for the thousandth time, he didn't care, because he went after his own pleasure, he would pound into you all night if he wanted to.Even if you were whimpering underneath him and saying you couldn't take it anymore, he'd respond with:

“You can and you will.”

[transk0vsky]

I understand thematically and character development wise why Casey doesn’t kill hun when he has the chance and I think that’s an interesting moment and shows a lot about Casey at his core……however I’m just saying should Casey get a second chance I don’t think he’ll hesitate……..

[gamblersdoll]

katsuki being a pleasure dom is a death wish, because he will primarily eat your pussy or use any toys on you.

if hes eating you out, hes looking up at you while you scream and cry about how youve came four times already, knowing you cant give anymore to him. “yes you can, mama.”

or if you push him away, you will get a slap to the clit. words of “im tryna eat, stop fuckin’ with me.” and venom slips into his words, suddenly grow so obsessed with your swollen clit.

and dare him grow out his beard, he will eat you out more so it can get bleached.

toys will drive him mad, hot even.

have a rose toy? he will use that on you for a good thirty minutes to an hour. dildos? hes double stuffing you just to see how much you could possibly take. he prefers it over his fingers, yet he will finger you in public.

vibrators? kiss your clit goodbye, because he will have it on the highest setting and will overstimulate you until your crying and begging.

“stop runnin’ baby. let papa make you feel good.”

“thats my girl, take this shit.”

“makin’ me proud, fuck.”

“like it when i make you feel good? yeah? mm, want me to keep going?”

[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

anhyatt9: ❤️ RebelCaptain, please?

❤️ first kiss / realization

Not that anyone would ever ask Jyn, but believe it or not, she really doesn't want her first kiss with Cassian to be for the sake of a cover.

Again, not that the unfeeling galaxy gives a single flying kriff about what she wants, but if you were to ask her (under duress, at knifepoint, and possibly under threat of torture, and potentially not even then), Jyn would say that she would sort of like any kind of kiss with Cassian to be...oh hell, meaningful? Maybe? Something that she could be sure they both want?

But it's Cassian we're talking about here, the only man in the galaxy who will offer to lead a potential suicide mission before admitting what he wants. But even after Scarif, he's been...well, he's a been a constant, steady, watchful presence by her side. Standing up for before Alliance High Command, recommending her to Intelligence. Even getting her situated with the quartermasters. He wouldn't do those things for just anybody, right? ...Right?

Unfortunately, short of just asking him, outright (who does she look like to you, Organa? Get out of it), Jyn isn't going to say anything. If Cassian--if Cassian wanted her that way, she would know. He would say something.

Wouldn't he?

But unfortunately, she doesn't have time to think about that now. Because the galaxy is vast and unfeeling and doesn't care one parsec about that she wants, she needs to kiss Cassian. For the sake of the cover.

Admittedly, circumstances could be worse. It could be some sick, twisted bastard trying to get them to "prove" something and getting off on it (which, gross, no thank you), or in some fancy party full of Imps, leering at them. Instead it's a smiling old granny, who spoke to Cassian in Kenari, and Cassian is absolute lothcat grass for old ladies and grandmothers, regardless of species, for some reason. They all just think he's adorable, with his shy smile and slightly sticking out ears, and his earnest eyes and the little dimple that appears when he's trying to be charming, not that he has to try very hard--stay on topic, Jyn.

But he's referred to her during this cover as my wife, the only slightest bit of wonder in his voice every time he says it, so the old granny running this stall that might be a cover for a fence that the Alliance can work worth, teased him about giving his wife such pretty roses in her cheeks by kissing. Cassian had laughed it off, wrapping his arm around Jyn's waist, smiling, and Jyn had seen that speculative look in the older woman's eyes, and she's never been one to back down from a dare. So when Cassian turns back to her, still smiling a little, Jyn smiles back at him, rises on her toes and--

Kisses him, in front of the entire market, the Force and everyone.

Cassian's mouth is soft under hers, his lips slack with surprise just for a moment. Then he recovers, returning the kiss with ardor, but somehow just keeping light enough so that it's not completely inappropriate for being out in public. Just a besotted married couple, indulging in a public moment of affection. Jyn wants to sink into this moment and never, ever come out of it.

She doesn't, though. She can't. She doesn't know if he wants it, or this, or her, or if it's just for the sake of the cover to him, but even if it is, Jyn will take this moment with both hands and cram it in her mouth, her pockets, clutch it to her heart like the greedy, striving thief she is. So she steals a few more kisses, and then one more, sinking back down on to her heels. Cassian chases after her mouth seemingly unthinkingly, before the amused cackle of the old granny alerts them both--they still have an audience. So he stops, looking at her with a question in his eyes only Jyn knows the answer to. She stares up at him, hoping against hope (that wild, reckless thing) that she can give him a proper answer.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jace and betrothed unable to wait until their wedding night to have sex??

Request: Jacaerys and his future wife fooling around because they are horny and scared they will die before getting married. I don’t want my boy to die without tasting the greatness of sex

How did this smut piece get to 2.2k words? 😳

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbating, fingering, p + v, 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I’m scared, Jace,’’ you confessed as you stood by the banister of Dragonstone castle, watching as Vermax and Silverwing flew together over the bay. Hopefully Silverwing will lay eggs when you and Jacaerys have children. ‘’The war is getting closer to us. Soon, we’ll have to get on our dragons and battle against the enemy. We…we might die.’’

Death was inevitable during a war. Especially one with dragons, as Rhaenys once said. Team Black had already suffered a couple of losses — Lucerys, Rhaenys, Ser Erryk —, but more would come. 

‘’The thought of what’s coming is terrifying, but we can’t let ourself be paralyzed by the possibility of dying,’’ Jacaerys said, his hand securely on the handle of his sword. He had taken the habit from Daemon, whom he looked up to in certain aspects. 

You looked down at your bare hands on the top of the banister. ‘’I’m not scared of death, I’m scared of dying without ever calling you husband.’’ 

A few weeks before the petition of Driftmark, you and Jacaerys had announced your betrothal. Rhaenyra had a feast in celebration, proud and happy that her eldest son would marry without any politics involved. The wedding should have happened in the summer, but the King fell to his illness and from there unraveled a series of unfortunate events that postponed the wedding.  

‘’When the war ends and I sit on my throne, we’ll have a large celebration in the Red Keep,’’ the Queen had promised.

But you were tired of waiting. 

‘’Every night, as I lay in bed, I think of you and our life if there hadn’t been a war of succession. I would call you husband, my prince husband, and we would not be sleeping in separate beds across the castle. No one would be chaperoning us from afar and we would not get scolded for sharing ‘too long’ kisses.’’

Jacaerys put his hand over yours on the bannister, sharing the same feelings. He wanted to call you his wife and glare at whoever dared speaking wrong to you. He wanted to spend the evening alone in your shared chambers, eating cakes and talking about your day until one of you fell asleep first. He wanted…he wanted to take you to his bed and have a family with you. Not whilst the war was going. He could not deal with the stress of his pregnant wife going to battle on her dragon. 

A few days later, you were sitting in your settee, reading in your nightgown when you heard a light knock on the door. You raised your head from your book, and saw that a piece of parchment had been slipped beneath your door.  

Meet me when the moon is bright. Careful when you take the stairs, Ser Godric is keeping guard.

The message was not signed, but you recognized the handwriting. 

When you judged the moon was bright enough, you slipped a robe over your nightgown and quietly walked down the corridor to take the stairs to Jacaerys’ chambers. You listened carefully for any guards, not wishing to get caught sneaking to you betrothed’s chambers at the hour of the owl. It would make quite the scandal amongst the servants and the staff. 

You knocked delicately on the door and bit your lip as you waited, your stomach bubbling with excitement. Within a few seconds, the door opened and Jacaerys pulled you inside. 

The room was quite dark as the sun was asleep, only the fire of the hearth and a few candles on a table as sources of light. You noticed the small crumpled balls of parchment on the study, assumingly drafts of his message to you. It had to be not too suggestive, but also not too plain that you would not want to come.

‘’I didn't know if you were going to come,’’ Jacaerys said, his lips curved into a shy smile. 

He was wearing just a tunic and wool trousers. It felt strange to see him without his doublet and riding gear. His dark brown hair was messy and his cheeks flushed from what you could make from the light. He looked so different from the usual picture-perfect prince. 

‘’You asked to see me.’’ 

Jacaerys stepped closer. He raised his hand to stroke your cheek, then your hair, which he seemed taken by. ‘’I didn’t know your hair was so long. You always have them up in braids or pins,’’ he said, his tone soft with wonder.

A slight smile tugged at your lips. ‘’What is it that you wanted, Jace? I doubt you summoned me her to talk about my hair.’’ 

‘’I’ve been thinking. About us.’’ He paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. ‘’The Gods have been unfair to us. So let’s not wait for them to bless and unite us.’’

Your brows drew into a light frown. ‘’Jace, what do you—’’ you began, but he stepped closer, his forehead resting against yours. 

He stepped closer, the fire in the hearth reflecting in his eyes. ‘’Do you love me?’’ 

‘’With all my heart,’’ you replied without hesitation, your eyes filled with sincerity. 

‘’Let’s not wait, then. I…I don’t want to waste our time together waiting for this damn war to be over to take you to bed.’’ 

Jacaerys placed his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against him, his grip loose, giving you time to pull from his grasp if you wanted it. But you didn't. 

Instead, you looked up at him and kissed him, closing the remaining space between you. You kissed him like you've done many times before, only this time you didn't have to pull away every twenty seconds to check if a maester, guard or the Queen was around. You’ll never forget the embarrassment you felt that day…

Jacaerys whimpered as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, and pressed you against him, desire spreading through his veins, hot like dragonfire. With less layers between your bodies, you could feel the warmth of his chest through your nightgown, and his...little friend stiffening in his trousers.

‘’Someone is excited,’’ you murmured with a giggle as you broke the kiss to plant a trail of kisses down his neck instead. 

He let out a low moan, tightening his grip on your hips. ‘’I cannot control it when you’re around. Especially when you kiss me.’’ Jacaerys captured your lips into another kiss, and tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower stomach. 

His hands grabbed and pulled at the material of your robe and nightgown, and you rolled your hips, igniting more of his dragonfire. Jacaerys moaned at the contact, louder than he intended. Your own cheeks turned red, realizing you were starting to reach an intimacy you had never breached before.

‘’I’m nervous,’’ you whispered, biting your lip as you thought of getting intimate. 

You placed your hands on Jacaerys’ chest, distracting yourself from your mind. His heart was beating fast, probably just as nervous. 

‘’We don't have to do anything if you don’t feel ready to.’’

You shushed him with a finger to his lips. ‘’I want to.’’ 

To prove yourself, you untied your robe and placed it on the back of the settee, right next to Jacaerys’ sword. The prince's breathing quickened, his dark eyes fixated on your fingers as you unlaced the ties of your nightgown, slowly unraveling the knot. You sucked in a breath as you pulled it down your shoulders, letting it slip down your body until it reached the floor.

Silence greeted your naked body, and you felt shy suddenly. You almost reached for your robe to cover yourself, but your betrothed sensed your uneasiness and stroked your cheek before taking off his tunic and trousers. He found it unfair for you to be naked while he was still clothed.

Once you were even, he guided you backwards towards his bed. The headboard had a large dragon engraved in the stone and seemed a little bigger than yours. The sheets were pale, and over top was a deep red blanket made of velvet to keep warm from the winds coming from the bay.

Jacaerys sat on the edge and, with an expression of fascination, he reached for your breasts. He made sure to be gentle, sliding his thumbs gently over your rapidly hardening nipples. ‘’By the Sevens, you’re beautiful,’’ he marveled, stars in his eyes. 

‘’I can say the same, my prince.’’ You pressed your palm over his chest, smooth and warm.

Jacaerys smiled, that one soft and genuine smile he reserved for you. ‘’I love you,’’ he said, his hands caressing your side in small, gentle circles. 

‘’I love you to— Aah,’’ you whimpered as his hand reached between your legs, stroking your slit clumsily. He didn't know what he was doing, and lacked finesse as he bumped against your clit at random moments, but it still felt amazing. 

He checked on you, wanting to please. ‘’Does that feel good?’’

‘’Yes.’’ 

His fingers were getting slippery from your arousal, making it easier to slide against your cunny. You’ve done it to yourself a few times, alone in your bed. 

‘’Can you put one inside?’’ 

Jacaerys’ fingers were a bit thicker than yours, and longer. 

He nodded. 

A breathy moan left your lips instantly, pleasure sparkling as your walls clenched around his middle finger. 

‘’Like that?’’ Jacaerys slid his finger out, then back in, repeating the motion as you grabbed his shoulder. 

‘’Yes. Again.’’ 

He listened to your needs, almost forgetting his own as his cock remained untouched against his stomach. It was engorged and painful. While one hand was busy pleasuring you, he wrapped his second around his cock and jerked himself. 

 You noticed and thought of helping him, but Jacaerys added a second finger and your knees almost gave out. The feeling was overwhelming, but you craved more. 

You pushed Jacaerys away, and clambered over his lap. His gaze met yours, equally filled with lust. With a nod from your lover, you reached down to grab his cock and lined it at your entrance, sinking down slowly, inch by inch. 

The intensity of the sensation had you gripping at each other, needing to anchor yourself to something. It was unpleasant at first, feeling a pressure and a stinging inside your intimate tunnel. You felt full in a way that was impossible to describe.

Feeling your fingers dig into his skin, Jacaerys kissed your shoulders and neck to sooth you, trying his hardest not to move by fear to blow too soon or hurt you. It was overwhelming for him too — the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him.

You rose up slightly, and then sank back on with tenderness. Jacaerys moaned deeply with you, his head dropping against your collarbone. He closed his eyes, his hands squeezing your hips as you moved up and down again, the pressure around his cock heavenly.  

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm, becoming one. 

When your legs fatigued, you let Jacaerys know and he moved you on the bed and laid you down on the rich velvet. He adjusted himself to the new position, his dark curls falling like curtains around his face as he thrusted into you with long deep strokes.

‘’Kiss me,’’ he demanded.

You complied, winding your arms around his neck and rocking your hips to meet his thrusts until you reached your high with a broken cry. 

Seconds later, Jacaerys pulled out and spilled onto your thighs, not wanting to deal with the consequences of having sex out of wedlock. 

The bed creaked as he collapsed beside you, breathing heavy. As if an invisible string was pulling you to him, you rolled on your side and clung to him, needing to be close after sex. You stayed that way for a long time, relaxing with your head on Jacaerys' bare chest. Your legs felt like jelly, still dizzy from the intense emotions and the overwhelming pleasure. 

You wished you could suspend time and stay there with him forever. But a soft yawn brought you back to reality.

‘’I must leave,’’ you said, feeling the tiredness catching you. It was difficult not to be lured to sleep when you were cuddling under the covers and Jacaerys’s hand was stroking your back gently.

His arms caged around you, protesting. ‘’Stay.’’ He nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled. ‘’It’s a command from your prince.’’ 

His tone was unserious, but it still made you guilty and sad to leave him. 

‘’I do not wish to leave and sleep in my bed alone, but I must be found in my own chamber when the maids come in the morn.’’ 

Jacaerys sighed, rubbing his face into your hair. ‘’I know,’’ he said, his voice a mixture of resignation and frustration. 

Reluctantly, his arms slowly unwound from around you and you peeled yourself from him, releasing a small hiss when you sat up. The septa had warned you about the pain after breaking your maidenhead. It wasn’t unbearable, only sensitive when you moved. 

‘’I didn't hurt you, didn't I?’’ Jacaerys immediately asked, his eyes filled with concern as he checked on you.

You shook your head and smiled, washing his guilt away. ‘’No. You were perfect, Jace.’’ 

He knew it was untrue. No one was perfect the first time. 

You struggled dressing back into your nightgown and robe, having to fight with Jacaerys’ lips trying to kiss you and his arms pulling you against him. You gave him a last longing kiss before slipping out of his chambers, promising to see him to break fast. 

—

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[halechief]

the gift chris gives claire is a scrapbook, a pale, dusky pink cloth bound collection of photos taken on the campaign trail. the first page has lines from “oh the places you’ll go” written in his own handwriting. the rest of the book is just very mundane candids of every city they visited together. some nicely posed shots of monuments they saw together, things she remarked on as interesting or funny. some of them she’s in, some of them she’s not, some of them they’re in together, some are of her and phil, and some are just of phil, have no people in them at all and they’re just cityscapes or still life. some are black and white, some of them in color. besides them being in the order of cities they visited, there’s no rhyme or reason, it just is as it was experienced and left for her in her office without ceremony. @newsworth

happy birthday to claire :) : @newsworth

text : christopher brady. i got your gift. it's very thoughtful, christopher. are you still in the building?

text : christopher brady. i hope so, for your sake. avoiding a hug today just means a longer one tomorrow, you know 😊

[strawberri-blonde]

Yours to Command - Jacaerys Velaryon

Summary: you don’t tolerate disrespect towards your betrothed and in return he shows you how much he appreciates it.

Warning: smuttttt also I used an app for the Valyrian so if it’s wrong my bad.

Masterlist

“He’s nothing but a bastard-.” The Lord couldn’t even finish his sentence as you drew your sword, crafted from the finest steel, and slashed him across the face from ear to lip.

The room erupted in gasps of horror and surprise as you cut into the man’s flesh. The Lord had been boasting to your stepmother, Queen Rhaenyra, and your father, Daemon, about how you should marry his eldest son, dismissing Jacaerys as an option because of his infamous brown hair. What the Lord didn’t know was that you loved Jacaerys' distinguished curls and his soft brown eyes.

“Watch your tongue as you speak of my betrothed.” Your sharp words echoed throughout the large hall as crimson dripped onto the floor and you approached the fear-stricken man. “For not only is he someone I hold dear to my heart, but he is also your Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and wields a sword better than I.”

“Y/n, that’s enough.” Queen Rhaenyra’s voice cut through your enraged fog, and you felt a familiar pair of hands grip your waist.

You leaned into Jace’s grasp and turned to the queen, who didn’t look angry. Her eyes had a smugness to them, but her face remained professional. Your father, on the other hand, couldn’t contain his smirk, proud of his eldest daughter.

“My queen, I hold you in the highest respect,” you announced, bowing your head to her, then turned back to the crowd of men. “But I don’t tolerate disrespect towards my beloved.” Your eyes narrowed like a viper's with a sharp tongue. “Let this fool be my last warning to you all. As his wound scars over, I want you all to see what the least I can do, because next time I’ll take a note from my father's book and let you keep your tongue.”

The room remained still and quiet as you made sure to look every person in the eye, asserting your seriousness. “Jacaerys, please take your betrothed to her chambers, and we’ll discuss her actions,” she spoke mainly to you, but the sparkle in her eyes told you she wasn’t mad. She was proud that someone stood up for her firstborn.

Jace pressed you against his front, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his scent washing over you and soothing your rage. “Come, my love,” he whispered softly, his voice calming you, though your hard exterior remained unmoved. Keeping a death stare fixed on the bloody face of the Lord, you allowed Jace to lead you out of the council chamber with a gentle hand on your lower back.

As you both walked down the hallway, silence enveloped you, broken only by the clicking of your shoes against the stone floor. Finally, you let out a loud sigh, releasing your frustrations, and glanced up at Jace, who was walking to your right. His attention was already on you, his lips curled into a knowing smile. He was used to your angry outbursts, especially since he knew he was one of the few (besides your late mother) who could calm you.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly as you both continued the long walk to your wing where your and your sisters' rooms were. “I know you can handle it yourself.” Your blood boiled as you thought of the way the older men looked at him, trying to offer their puny excuse of sons your way. “If I offended you, I apologize.”

A chuckle escaped from the Prince's mouth, making you pause in your step. With quick movements, Jace gently pushed you against the wall between two columns and pressed a heated kiss to your lips. You gasped, and he bit down on your parted bottom lip. “Please never apologize for caring for me,” he murmured, his lips barely leaving yours as his eyes bore into your own. “It doesn’t offend me knowing I have a strong woman by my side, willing to cut anyone down for speaking ill of my name.” Jace kissed you again, and you pressed your hands on his chest, gripping the black tunic with gold embroidery sewn into the fabric.

He pulled away to mumble, “I’m proud to be yours. And I can’t wait until you’re my wife.” His words made you melt like butter because you couldn’t wait either. You smiled up at him with sultry eyes.

“I can’t wait to call you husband.” Jace smiled brightly, pressing you back in for a kiss, making both of you smile into the act like grinning fools.

The kiss brought on a sense of excitement that sent chills down your spine, and a soft, almost imperceptible moan escaped your lips when his hands began to caress your waist.

Hearing your soft moans, Jacaerys dragged his tongue along your full bottom lip, making you part your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip in. Your moans grew embarrassingly louder, but they only drove the prince to kiss you harder.

His hands lowered to your hips, and without warning, he picked you up and pinned you to the wall. Your dress slid up to your thighs, allowing you to lock your ankles together, pulling him close until his groin matched your own. The stone wall was cold against your back, but with your betrothed pressing you against his hard, hot body, you had no complaints. Instead, you arched your back, making his stiffness rub against your core, leaving you craving more of this. More of him.

You could feel Jacaerys breath catch in his throat at the feeling of your body against his, and a small growl escaped his lips as his hips began to grind into yours, and his grip on your hips tightened as his eyes met yours, filled with desire.

“Y/n…we shouldn’t be doing this,” He murmured, but his body continued to betray his words, pressing against you more firmly. “Anyone could see us…”

You slipped a hand behind his head as heat pool in your abdomen and you tugged on his curls making his close his eyes in a short bliss. Your lips curled as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth bucking your hips to add friction while your mouth trailed down to his neck pressing mouth open kissed to his pearly skin. “Ivestragī zirȳ ūndegon skoros nykeā sīr called bastard iksos capable hen.” Let them see what a so called bastard is capable of.

A low, almost guttural growl escaped from the Prince’s lips. “Hang va issa, beloved.” Jace secured his grip on you while your hands wrapped around his shoulders, fists clinging to his curls for dear life. “Open,” he commanded. If it were anyone but him or the queen, you would’ve laughed in their face, but for Jacaerys, you’d gladly walk off a cliff if he so desired. Hang on my beloved.

"I'm yours to command, my prince," you responded, your voice low and breathless. You parted your lips, but Jace couldn't help himself and pressed his open mouth to yours. With one hand, he raised your dress higher, his fingers slightly grazing your covered heat before ripping your stockings and excusing your cotton underwear.

When he pulled away, you immediately whimpered but were silenced by his pointer and middle finger shoving their way into your mouth. Your eyes widened at first, but as his brown eyes bore into yours, you began to suck his digits and even swirled your tongue around them. "By the gods, you’re perfect," he began. "And you’re all mine."

He slowly pulled his hand away from your mouth, making sure to caress your bottom lip. With haste, he reached under your bunched-up fabric to tease you slightly by gliding his soaked fingers against the already wet fabric of your undergarments.

"My Prince, please." Jace kissed your lips, hushing you as he pulled your coverings aside and pressed against your mound, sliding into your slick folds. He caressed you up and down, teasing your clit down to your entrance. "Gods."

Your head tilted back, hitting the stone wall in ecstasy as his rough fingers began to circle around your pearl. This wasn’t the first time Jace had touched you there. You both hadn’t been all that patient with waiting until you were wed, but as the honorable gentleman that he is, you hadn’t consummated anything because Jace really wanted to wait until the wedding night. However, that didn’t stop you both from getting your pleasure from other things. If it were up to you, the dragon rider would’ve already had the best ride of his life.

"Jace." You moaned out as he began the motion of figure eights, making your legs shake in delight.

"I love you like this, Princess." His hot breath hit your face as he leaned over you and kissed your parted lips. "When we wed, I plan on taking you in every nook and corner of this palace until you're full of my seed." Your cunt pooled at his words, and Jace could feel how wet you were becoming by the slushing sound his fingers made against your throbbing nerve. "You want that, my beloved?"

Loud moans spilled from your swollen lips as you helplessly nodded, knowing that if you didn’t respond in some way, he’d stop. “Yes,” you managed to get out as your abdomen tightened and your breath hitched, feeling that familiar, eye-blinding sensation start to form. “I can’t wait to be full of your children, letting everyone know what you did to me.” Jace kissed down your neck and sucked on that one spot that made you weak in the knees. “And I want them all to know how much I liked it.”

The prince sucked harder, and without realizing it, you began to yank at his curls, making his desire burn more intensely, especially as your moans increased and became shorter, signaling your very close end. “Cum syt issa, issa jorrāelagon milk issa fingers rūsīr aōha sweetness nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao withering isse pleasure.” Cum for me, my love milk my fingers with your sweetness I want to see you withering in pleasure.

As his fingers continued their steady pace, rubbing against your clit, and his mouth worked against your neck, your body tensed in delight as your orgasm washed over you like a dragon's fire. No words left your parted lips, and you were grateful that Jace pressed his against yours in a kiss, because after that intense pleasure, you just wanted to be engulfed by nothing but him.

"I love you," you whimpered, making his boyish grin return to his face as he slightly pulled his head back to look at you. His hand slipped out from your undergarments, and he pulled your dress back down to cover your exposed thighs, keeping your skin hidden from view.

He sucked his fingers clean before he spoke. “Issa prūmia exists outside issa chest kesrio syt nyke’ve given ziry naejot ao se moment nyke tegon issa laesi va ao.” The brightest smile spread across your face, and as the two of you kissed, engrossed in the love surrounding you, someone clearing their throat made you both pull away like two deer caught by dogs. My heart exists outside my chest because I’ve given it to you the moment I land my eyes on you.

“Aōha valyrīha emagon gotten rōvēgrior, nephew.” Jace's face turned crimson from embarrassment, unlike the oversized pig of a man who had insulted him earlier, whose face was red with blood. Your Valyrian has gotten excellent, nephew.

You glared at your father, Daemon, as the prince carefully set you back on your feet and stood in front of you, nudging you behind him, between the columns. "But could you not corrupt my daughter before the wedding ceremony?" His knowing smirk could be seen over your beloved's shoulder, and he stood tall with his hands laced in front of him.

“Daemon-“ Jace began but your father raised a hand to stop him.

"Please just take her to her chambers before the Queen decides not to marry you a week from today." This news had you clenching Jace's hand, and he smiled down at you because the date hadn't been set yet. "And act surprised when she announces the news to you both, and please, no public displays of your love at least until after the wedding." Daemon shot them a sinful grin before nodding them off and walking past them.

"A week," you whispered with excitement, pulling Jacaerys into a loving kiss, which he returned with just as much enthusiasm. He grabbed your waist, began to pull you from the wall, and spun you around, making both of you laugh with joy.

Hoped you all enjoyed it’s been a while since I’ve written anything but I’m in my Jace era and I’m truthfully scared to be in it because I know my hearts going to be ripped out of my chest.

~ Caroline

[entitled-fangirl]

Lost.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader accompanies her brother and Cregan to the Wall to discuss an alliance. But the news of Luke's death causes turmoil among them.

Warnings: Blood, cursing, grief, death, miscarriage, Cregan fucking crying

A/n: based on this ask!

Masterlist

.................................................................

She had to practically beg him.

"No. No, and you need to drop it," he said as he began to lace up his boots.

She whined and pulled herself from the bed, her hair a mess and still only in her shift, "Cregan."

Cregan let out a soft growl, "You dragons just don't see reason, do you?"

She smiled and neared him. Her hands rested over his, keeping him from lacing his boots. "I want time with my brother again. Is that so terrible?"

"It's a two week trip to the Wall."

"That's at least a month with him." She gripped his hands tighter, "Please, Cregan."

He sighed, "The prince will have plenty of time with you before and after. I won't have my wife and unborn child far from the maesters." He let out a forced laugh, "Or near the men of the Wall, for another matter."

"There are maesters there, Cregan. And we all know I am safest with you."

He stared at their connected hands for a while, a million thoughts ringing loudly in his head, but all unvoiced. 

"We still have a few months until the birth," she continued to reason. "And you know I grow cold at night when you're gone."

Cregan smiled up at her. He pulled his hand from hers to rest over her small swollen stomach. 

As much as he wanted to lock her away from the threats of the world, he knew doing so would hurt her more than letting her go.

He chewed at his lip. "If I let you," he began, "You will take no chances. On anything."

"None," She agreed. "Nothing at all." Her hand joined his on her stomach. "I'll stay by your side. I promise."

"Alright." 

…

"Ready to go?" Jace smiled as his sister neared. 

She grinned back as she took his arm, "I've been ready since I heard you were arriving, brother."

He chuckled lightly as the two began to walk to the stable, "Must I say, you practically glow like the sun nowadays."

She huffed, "Do not lie."

"I don't," he said. "There is more color to you."

"That is only the cold nipping at me and coloring my cheeks."

He laughed again, "Maybe so. But either way, You are a natural, my dear sister. A healthy boy is on the way, I know it."

"A boy?" She asked with raised brows. "Oh no, Cregan and I think it's a girl."

He hummed in thought, "No. It's not. I know these things."

She laughed and playfully hit his arm, "You know nothing of this!"

He grinned and shrugged, "All the same. You'd raise a wonderful boy-"

"-Or girl."

"-or girl. Either way, I shall be a very proud uncle."

"Oh, you must wed Baela soon brother, please."

"So eager?" He asked with a smile.

"Our children would be such wonderful friends." Her eyes lit up and she squeezed his arm, "Or such a beautiful betrothal! Think of it!"

Jace look away in thought, "Perhaps so. I hadn't considered that."

"Only," she began again. "I shall pray your boy does not inherit your unruly curls!" 

"Ah, you're the one having a boy first. I said so."

"Oh. So, you wish to have a girl, brother?"

He bit his lip, "If the gods wish it, then yes."

"You'd be wonderful to a daughter, Jace."

His brows furrowed, "Let us focus on the baby at hand, please. And get you to the stables before Cregan has my head."

…

Cregan helped her into the lift at the bottom of the wall, pulling her to him to make room for Jace. 

"I sent a letter to mother before we left," Jace began. "About the child. Luke, Joffrey, and I will choose a dragon egg and send it to you upon my return home."

Her eyes lit up, "Thank you. That was… That was very thoughtful."

Jace looked up to Cregan, who looked at Jace as if he was going to explode any second. 

A dragon? In Winterfell? Around his child? 

But he said nothing. 

"Do have Luke pick it." She finally said. "He has the best taste in such things."

Jace laughed lightly, "I will. But I will not tell him you said so. I can't have him getting prideful."

A silence fell over them as the lift brought them further and further up the wall.

"So, what is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones?" Jace asked.

"This is only a late summer snow, my prince." Cregan finally spoke, "In winter, it will cover all you see."

"It's quite beautiful, Jace." She smiled, "If you have a warm cloak, that is."

…

Cregan and Jace walked together along the ice halls of the Wall, the Lady Stark behind, making her rounds around the men at work, thanking them, and chatting as she moved. 

"Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince." Cregan began, "But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between north and south. In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to king's landing. I need my men here." 

He looked behind him to his wife, who was in an intense conversation meters back, a hand resting on her stomach as she nodded along with the man that spoke.

"While your men guard against wildings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne." 

The two began to walk up to the outlook, Jace continued, "If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my lord." He looked out over the wall. "We cannot wage it without the support of the North."

Silence filled the air, save for the sound of the wind blowing loudly. 

"Do you think my ancestors built a 700-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?"

"What does it keep out."

"Death."

A man approached the two, "My lord, a raven's arrived. Urgent news from Dragonstone."

Y/n's head perked up, and she immediately excused herself from her conversation to go to her husband.

Cregan unraveled the note, his eyes flitting across the paper hurriedly, and a furrowing in his brows formed.

She moved to Jace and his arm wrapped around her side, pulling her to him. "Cregan," she said. "Is everything alright?"

He looked up at the two Velaryons.

Then held the paper out to Jace.

Cregan then reached out and took his wife from the man, having a new sense of needing her near him.

When Jace read the note and his hand covered his mouth, she became worried, "Jace?"

He didn't answer, but Cregan's grip on her tightened and one hand rested protectively over her swollen belly.

"Jace. Please."

"It's alright," Cregan whispered into her ear, "We're alright." He looked up to Jace, a silent plea to keep calm in front of her.

Jace's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to smile with gritted teeth, "Just a slight hiccup, dear sister."

He gripped the note with an iron grip, not caring of the tears or crinkles it could bring.

He shook his head and began to storm off.

"Jace…" "-It's fine!" He shouted. "Everything is just fine."

He stormed off before she could get it out of him.

She turned around in Cregan's grip, "My love. Please tell me what has happened."

He shook his head and brushed a piece of hair from her face, "No. You needn't worry about these things. It's bad for the babe."

"Cregan-"

“Please do not ask me to bring you torment, my girl,” Cregan said with a tilt of his head.

“Cregan, you torment me by keeping me in the shadows.”

“Trust me when I say, I am not.”

She pulled herself from his hands, “No. You do. Now, tell me.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened and his voice became stronger, “I won’t.”

“Speak the words, Cregan.”

He stared back.

“Say it.”

Silence.

Her voice grew desperate, “Say it.”

He simply stared, a slight tilt to his head.

“If you love me as your wife, you’ll not keep this from me.”

He immediately took a step and his voice lowered, “Do not use such words-“

She growled, “then fucking say it.”

He took steps to her, their faces not far, “You won’t hear it from me.”

“Then I will find it elsewhere," she sneered in his face.

She stormed off, Cregan left to stare over the wall.

He wanted to chase after her. Stop her and correct it all. But he just couldn’t.

This news changed everything.

…

She opened the door, finding Jace in the midst of a fit of rage, throwing his cup against the wall.

“Jace?”

He looked up at her, forcing himself to calm. She moved to him and held her arms out.

And he collapsed against her, weeping into her neck.

“Jace. Jace, it’s alright.” She cooed lightly to him.

“He’s gone. He’s gone and I wasn’t there.”

Gone? Who? 

Her mind began to race and her heart dropped.

Surely not Daemon. Jace wouldn’t weep as if his world crumbled.

Gods, Jace hadn’t wept at all since the day Ser Harwin died.

“Jace. Look at me.”

She pulled his face to look at him, “What happened?”

“I promise you, I’ll kill them all. I will.”

“Calm yourself, dear brother.”

“CALM MYSELF?” He roared and pulled back from her. “Our brother is dead and you tell me to calm myself?”

Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she sniffled lightly. 

A hand shot to her stomach.

“Luke?”

Jace brows immediately relaxed, “gods, you didn’t… Stark didn’t…”

“Luke is dead?” She whispered as a shaky hand covered her mouth.

“I didn’t mean to… please, come here.”

The two siblings embraced, Jace holding her tightly against him and brushing through her hair as she began to wail against him.

Her hands clutched at his cloak and it quickly became wet with her tears.

Cregan threw the door open and his entire body stiffened at the sight.

She turned her head against Jace’s chest. She spoke through broken hiccups, “Luke…”

Cregan’s eyes softened as he saw her puffy eyes, “I know.”

Jace tightened his hold, “Aemond hunted him down on his dragon.”

Cregan watched her eyes completely glaze over and her breath quickened.

She let out a low groan.

“Sister? Sister, please.”

She pulled away and a hand quickly moved to her stomach, her brows furrowed.

“Cregan…”

“Fuck…” Cregan immediately moved to her and pulled her into his arms. “My love, please steady yourself.”

A few more tears slipped from her eyes, “It hurts, Cregan.”

No.

No. No. No.

He gripped her biceps in an iron grip, “No. No, you’re alright.”

She shook her head, “No. I’m not.” She gritted her teeth and her eyes closed. “I’m not. Please.”

“My girl.” He cooed, “Let us sit you down.”

She gasped at a sudden feeling.

“Sister…” Jace took a step towards her.

“Please," She begged and held a hand out, stopping him. “I…”

A low and pained groan and her knees buckled.

Cregan caught her with ease, holding her up. “My prince. Bring me that chair.”

Jace moved immediately, pulling a wooden chair across the floor with a loud scrape.

Cregan lowered her into the chair, cringing at the whimper that left his wife’s mouth.

“Perhaps a maester…?” Jace asked.

“No-“

“-Yes,” Cregan nodded. “Yes. Please.”

“Cregan,” she cried. “I can’t. I can’t lose her-“

“-if we do not fetch the maester, then she will be.” Cregan’s eyes were set, as if challenging her to fight him on it.

“Fine. Fine, please.”

Jace quickly left in practically a sprint.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

She turned to the Stark, “What?”

He looked like he was ready to cry. His bottom lip quivered, “if you do lose her.”

Her eyes saddened and her hand moved to his face, “I can’t.”

“You will, my love.” He forced a deep breath to hold back the tears and let out a breath, “She is gone now, I’m sure of it.”

If she wasn’t in pain enough, that multiplied it.

…

Four hours later, Jace and Cregan sat in the opposite end on the room, watching the maester work endlessly.

But they were silent. Their eyes were both fixed on the blood that stained everything.

She had fallen asleep long ago, from the pain or loss of blood, they weren’t sure.

But it gave their ears a break from her piercing cries that rang through the entirety of the Wall.

When the maester moved to the two men, they stood.

“My lord, my prince,” he began. “The Lady has lost much blood.”

“Will she live?” Cregan immediately asked.

“I…” he bit his lip. “She will, my lord, but…”

“That is all I need. You may go.”

“Lord Stark-“

“GO!” He growled.

The maester bowed his head and quickly left, pulling the door behind him.

Silence filled the room. Both men still stared at the poor woman who slept away the pain.

…

Jace had left not long after, wandering the halls of Castle Black in thought, so it was only Cregan in the room when she woke.

She let out a low groan, and he held her hand in his. "Lovely, how are you feeling?"

Her eyes studied him before a light sob racked through her.

He lightly kissed her knuckles, knowing that was the only comfort he could bring to her at the moment.

"I told you it wasn't your fault."

"But I…" She hiccuped and wiped her face with her free hand, "I pushed for you to tell me. I… I forced you to let me accompany you here."

"You did not do any of that," he reprimanded. "None of it."

Her eyes held a hollowed look to them, "I lost the future of Winterfell."

Her brows furrowed and his hand smoothed the hair from her forehead.

"A boy," she sniffled. "Would've been."

He felt a punch to his gut.

He'd seen battle before, but nothing caused him as much pain as this moment. 

He looked down at their intertwined hands, "It does not mean that all is lost, my girl."

"Then why does it feel like it?"

His eyes watered, and his nose scrunched in frustration. He wanted to curse as his bottom lip trembled for the second time today, "I don't know."

A single tear ran down the Wolf's face.

"But I promise you," He sniffled. Another tear down his face as he let out a soft breath, "You have not lost me."

"I couldn't give you an heir."

"And I do not know how to comfort you through it."

She pushed herself up and he shook his head, "No, you need to rest."

But she managed to sit herself up against the headrest.

Her hand brushed his cheek and he couldn't stop the tears that began to rush down his face.

"Oh, Cregan," she cooed.

His hand brought her other one up to his lips again, kissing her knuckles fervently this time, as if she would disappear if he didn't.

"Hey. Stop," she tilted her head. "Cregan. Stop."

His eyes looked to her through a blurry haze.

"It's not your fault either, you know." She finally said.

He forced a laugh and shook his head. "I fear I'd go mad without you, my girl."

"As I with you."

The two managed to catch their breath in the silence that followed, a promise that things would get better if they only let it.

He leaned forward to her, gently connecting their lips. 

She let out a whine, accepting his kiss eagerly. 

His hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her to him. He hardly cared about the salty taste of the tears on their lips.

He pulled away first.

"I'll promise our graybeards to the queen," Cregan stated as he sat back down.

She huffed, "Don't pity me and feel as if you must defend-"

His grip tightened on her hand, "I will have the head of that boy on a fucking spike." Cregan growled.

"He did not lose our child, I did!" She said with a raised voice.

His jaw clenched as his eyes bore into hers, "Aemond Targaryen lost the war the second he chased your brother with Vhagar. The graybeards will march when the time is right. In exchange for Aemond's head by the time the war is done."

"Cregan-"

"-He is why our son is dead. And the North will remember that."

She looked down to her stomach, rubbing a hand over what used to be there only hours before.

Cregan Stark's gaze became more rigid than the ice around them. 

"Winter is coming for the Greens."

.........................................................

A/n: Okay, hey, now that you're depressed from this fic, let's talk. I'm making a Cregan Stark tag list! Let me know if you want on it!