#unity feast | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flowersforjude · 8 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | When Cregan Stark begins his search for a wife, some hidden feelings come to light.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6,484(Idk what came over me okay!?)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mature Content-Explicit Descriptions Of Sex | Friends to lovers, Longing and pining, Love confessions, Possessive!Cregan, Smut: Piv, Oral(fem receiving), Clit biting, Hair pulling, Multiple orgasms, Biting/bruising(VERY MILD), Wife/marriage kink, Size difference.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I did not anticipate Cregan Stark pulling me out of my writing slump. But everyone say thank you Cregan! For those of you waiting for it, Hea Mēre is still coming. I just wanted to post something since I haven’t put any new works out here lately. Hea Mēre is coming SOON, though, I promise.

masterlist

Word had spread that the Warden of the North was in need of a wife. And so the great hall of Winterfell was now a symphony of merry music and proud spoken promises. Nearly every great house in the north flocked to Winterfell’s gates one after the other. Some lords arrived with nearly their whole households in tow. Some only brought their daughters.

Cregan, ever the loyal man, had welcomed them to his home as any good liege lord would. Demanding a feast be thrown in the honor of northern unity.

The revels had been at their height for hours now, and you took in as much as you could handle. As the night wore on, though, you found a need for respite. The boisterous laughter and clambering of drunk men was a muffled sound to your ears now. Out here in the chilly corridors, only the howling wind could truly be heard.

It had been close to a year since Cregan took the seat of his late father. Since then, the north has rallied behind him. Came to pledge their words of fealty and wish their lord prosperity. And now they came again to offer him their daughters, sisters, and nieces. You knew he would take a wife at some point—some point very soon. And because he was a northman through and through, he would marry a northern woman. One from a great house with a long history and ample influence.

For some reason, all your preparation for this moment had done nothing to aid you when it actually came.

The wind swirled around you like a restless spirit, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself to stave off the chill. You could just go back inside, but all the warmth in the world could not tempt you. Witnessing all the eligible ladies of the north look upon Cregan with hungry and hopeful eyes was an unnecessary cruelty you didn’t wish on yourself. It wasn’t as though you could fault them for it. He was Lord of Winterfell, and as such, he was obligated to take a wife. What woman wouldn’t want that to be them?

You yourself had yearned for it for as long as you could recall. Practically growing up alongside him, youthful companionship had reformed as enrapturing affection. There was not a day where you did not cross paths with him, often purposely carving out time to spend together. You were always available to each other; living within the same keep had made it quite impossible to be apart.

Your father was Master of Arms; being a second son from house Cerwyn, he was granted knighthood in his youth. The late Lord Rickon Stark had appointed him as Master of Arms a handful of years before you were born.

Your father had trained Cregan as a boy. The memory of first meeting him was still clear as glass even after all these years.

The snow was still cool against your cheeks as you sat atop a railing, observing your father working with the boys during one particular day. You had snuck away from your Septa some time ago, preferring the chilled air outside to the stuffy heat indoors. That, and your hands ached from all the needlework you’d been made to practice.

Cregan had caught sight of you almost immediately. Smirking at your attempt to conceal yourself from searching eyes. You smiled back at him, pressing a small finger to your lips silently, asking him to keep your secret.

And he did. He said nothing to your father during the training session. Pretending you weren’t there at all. It wasn’t until your father caught you himself that you were sent back inside with clear instructions to apologize to your Septa for running off.

It was an act of fate that later that day you and Cregan crossed paths in one of the winding halls of Winterfell. In a second long bout of courage, you stopped him to say a proper thank you for not ratting you out.

The rest was simply history.

“I was wondering where you’d run off to.” The low rumble of a voice invaded your troubled thoughts.

The sound of footsteps thudded against the old wood. You turned to see Cregan rounding the corner, his slate eyes resting on you. The flickering torchlight caught the contours of his face, and for a moment, the weight of his presence made your heart race.

“Why are you all the way out here?” He asked, his deep candace rolling over you like thunder.

“I just needed some air.” You answered, hoping he’d deem it a suitable reply. “The festivities got a bit overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a thrill of familiar fondness down your spine. “Overwhelming is one way to put it. I can hardly hear myself think in there.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body casting like a shield against the cold. “But I am glad I’ve found you.”

You nodded, not catching the implicating tone in his voice. You dropped your gaze to the frost-kissed ground. “I suppose everyone is eager to make an impression tonight. Especially the ladies.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, laced with a bitterness that you were not used to hearing from your own voice.

He noted the sour tone in your words. He himself admitted to being caught offhand at the unexpected abundance of marriage proposals. When he had alluded to wanting to look for a wife, he hadn’t anticipated this. Truthfully, the only woman he would want to wed was standing beside him. In the years of closeness with you, you had unknowingly taken his heart right from him. He recognized the fact that he hadn’t owned his heart for some time now. He had given it to you long before he even realized it.

If he was certain you would accept, he’d have asked your hand in marriage instead of entertaining half the northern population.

“Eager indeed.” He replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. “It is all rather…overwhelming.” He sighed, echoing your words from before.

You disliked seeing him so burdened. In the months since he took the role of Warden, though, that oppressed look marred his handsome features far too frequently for your liking.

“You need not rush into anything.” You consoled, wanting to take his strains and carry them yourself.

He grunted, resting his hands over the pommel of Ice. The great longsword hanging at his side. “Would you have me keep my people in suspense?”

“I would rather you keep them waiting than to risk your own happiness.” You said, your voice softer now, carrying the weight of your concern. Sometimes it felt foolish to worry over him so much, but you supposed that was a condition of loving someone.

“What do you think would make me happy?” The question wasn’t unexpected; he oftentimes sought out your advice just as you would with him. But to speak with him of his potential nuptials felt like a shard of ice was lodged in your chest.

You met his eyes; gone from the silver shine was the frustration replaced with a sort of keenness to know your thoughts. Most would say his eyes were two wild winter storms, and they could be if he was so inclined. But you had always seen them as bright stars hanging high in the sky. Shining down with their silver light that pulled you in and stole your breath.

“I would say marriage to someone who could honor and carry on the traditions of your family.” You replied, a peak of the true depths of your devotion seeping into your words. “A lady that would care for you, and not simply the title that came with you.”

“Someone like you, perhaps?” Cregan suggested a teasing lilt in his voice, but there was no mistaking the tinge of sincerity. He stepped closer then, forcing you to twist your position to where your back was against the railing. His warmth clouded your senses for a moment, causing you to lose track of your thoughts.

“You jest.” You retort, a nervous laugh bubbling from your lips. “This is serious, Cregan.”

His expression shifted, a spark of intensity igniting in his eyes. “I am being serious.” He countered, an unusual tension crackling in the cold air. There was something new swimming in his eyes, firm but soft the longer he looked at you. “You’ve always been more to me than just a companion or a friend. You must know that.”

A scoff sounded from you. “Must I?” You echoed incredulously, your heart pounding in your chest. The chilly air felt electric, humming with unspoken words and emotions that had been buried for too long.

He pressed closer, his presence mudding your resolve. “Yes,” he insisted. “Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I crave you by my side above all else.” His voice was low and earnest, not a hint of deception to be found.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your lips parting to take in a shaky breath. “I am not a woman that could ever be considered as your wife.” The words stung as they left your lips, trembling on their descent. He was alluding to everything you had secretly hoped for, yet the reality of it felt like a dream you weren’t sure you could grasp. “I am the daughter of a second son. I hold no titles, no grand connections. And certainly-”

Cregan silenced you with a searing kiss. One that was all flames and fervor, but slow enough to feel every movement of his mouth molding over yours. A soft gasp slipped past you, and he drank it in, claiming it for himself.

Your hands hung by your sides for a moment before your body caught up with your mind. But once his solid arms coiled themselves around your hips, something in you snapped in place finally. Hands went to his shoulders, gripping onto the thick fur of his cloak. He pulled you in, your back coming off the railing, pressing you to him so no space was between you.

Your lips struggled to match his pace, but it was not for lack of trying. All these years of tampered emotions and repressed desires made everything blur together. The only tangible thing to be felt was Cregan. He held you with the utmost gentleness, his hands falling along your curves but never drifting too far or squeezing too tightly.

The yearning threatened to spill over. Bubbling within the both of you and being tended higher and higher with every slide of your lips against each other. You knew better than anyone that he had a roughness about him. And you wanted to coax it out; you wanted him.

His teeth nipped your bottom lip as he walked you backwards. Pressing you into a wooden pillar, he brought you flush against him. Though, through all the furs and layers of clothing, there was nothing to be felt. You could sense his hunger in the subtle low noises in the back of his throat and the way his touch grew feverish.

When he left your mouth to trail his lips along your jaw and down your neck, you took the opportunity to reign in your self-control. When he hitched one of your legs around his hips, though, you could feel your composure slipping away. The line of propriety daring you to cross it as his fingers kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh.

“Cregan.” You sighed as he kissed a line across your jaw. There were things you wanted to say. Things you needed to speak about. But your desire-addled mind couldn’t bring forth a single syllable.

A loud roar of laughter sounded from the great hall, pulling you both back to the present. Cregan huffs into the crook of your neck, the hot puff of his breath sending goosebumps along your spine.

He dropped your leg but kept his hold on your waist. “I will not take you for the first time in my halls where anyone could see.” Everything inside him screamed at him to continue, to hike up your skirts and make you his once and for all. But he would not have the first time muddied with the risk of prying eyes. He would have you, but only somewhere safe, warm, and private.

“If this is what you want,” Cregan murmured. “I would have you in my chambers, though; if you wish to not continue, I will leave at once.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, eyes meeting his as your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest. “I have never wanted anything more than you for as long as I can recall.”

With your words solidifying what you both wanted, he pressed another quick kiss to your lips. Taking your hand in his, you made the all too familiar walk to his chambers.

You had some time to think while trending through the halls. Your mind was made up, resolved, and set in stone, but nerves prickled at your skin. Not for the act itself really, but the knowledge it would be with Cregan. After all this time and all the wondering, it was finally happening. You hadn’t quite wrapped your head around it yet.

This part of the keep was dead silent, far away enough from the great hall that the raucous of the gathering was a distant memory. The doors to his chambers were tall, heavy oak, crafted from large stocks of trees from the Wolfswood. As Cregan pushed them open, the warmth from inside his rooms wafted out to greet you.

Passing through the threshold, you felt the shift of everything. Nothing would be the same after tonight. “What happens afterwards?” You question, words leaving your lips in a whisper as his makes an expedition across your jaw. You didn’t want to doubt him, but all of this felt like a dream moving so quickly you couldn’t discern if anything was real.

“I will make you mine tonight.” He murmured, one arm going around your waist. “And you make me yours. Then we will be wed before the Weirwood tree.”

“You would make me your wife?” You asked softly, watching as his face became puzzled.

“Were my words not convincing enough?” A smile pulled on his lips, though he did not let it overtake his expression. He hummed a deep sound, lips falling here and there on your neck.

His sugary tone thrilled you to your core. His hinting words and the press of his mouth made a surge of arousal swirl within you. “Perhaps you should just show me,” you urged.

Not wasting another second, his arm around your waist hauled you to him. Your fingers gripping the fur of his cloak, pulling yourself as close as possible to him. Cregan’s mouth met yours frantically. His kiss was hungry, filled with a deep-seated yearning for you that he had tried to ignore.

The heat of the room multiplied. Gone were the frozen winds from outside, a blazing inferno taking its place. That fire churned between you as he kissed you with the roughness you knew lay within him. Once again, you failed to keep up, but you were more than content to let him kiss you into a stupor. His teeth scraping the skin of your bottom lip as he worked on the clasp of your cloak.

Letting the heavy garment fall to the floor at your feet, you shivered at the loss of its warmth. Wanting to level things out, your hands undid the fastening of his, a thrill shooting to you, noticing the eagerness in which he tossed it to the ground.

“Cregan.” You whispered, trembling at the feeling of his hands at your back untying the laces of your dress. The material sagging around your shoulders. Grey stars met your eyes, asking you if he could continue. Nodding your consent, he slid the dress down, never letting his eyes wander as the garment pooled at your feet.

Your shift was the only thing separating your nakedness from his eyes. But you couldn’t help but feel the severe imbalance between you. As he made home in your neck again, your hands went to work on the restraints of his tunic. One by one, the clasps opened for you until you pushed the clothing from his shoulders.

He huffed out a laugh into the skin of your neck that turned into a shudder when your fingers slid under his shirt. You let your hands feel along the corded muscle of his abdomen. Years of hard training formed his body into the mountain of a man that he was now.

You moaned outright when he bit the skin below your ear. His hands mapping out the dips of your curves. Gripping here and there with his digits, unable to help himself when feeling the heat of your skin from beneath the thin shift.

Growing desperate, you started raising his shirt up to say you wanted it off. He untangled himself from you just enough to aid you in lifting it over his head. It joined the rest of your clothing on the floor.

Seeing what was always hidden underneath those layers of thick garments had your head spinning. He was all solid muscle and pure strength. Powerful yes, but knowing that he would never use that power against you in a way to cause harm was exhilarating.

Not being able to help yourself, you let your fingers lightly glide over the impressive map of his stomach. He indulges you for a few moments before your nails scrape along his skin, causing a growl to rumble through his chest. Snatching up your hands, he pulled you flush against him again. He devours your mouth with uncontrolled need. Lust was all but dripping from him, but the underlying affection would not be drowned out. Cregan was a man of few words more often than not, so he preferred to show you all that you meant to him.

Hands taking hold of your hips, he maneuvered you to his bed. His eyes shining with tenderness as you let him lay you down on the mattress. The furs covering the sheets were soft beneath you, surrounding you in a comforting embrace. Cregan stood over you for a moment before going to his knees. Spreading your legs apart, he made home between them, his shoulders coming up under your knees.

He wanted to taste every inch of you, trail his lips and tongue along every curve and sensitive patch of skin he could find. Hands coming up to the straps of your shift, he paused to see you already shaking your head. He grinned to himself as he removed the last bit of fabric hiding you from him. Off your shoulders to reveal your breasts, down your sides to uncover your stomach, and finally letting it fall away to bare your center to him.

“Let me taste you.” He rumbled, his voice dropping deeper than you’d ever heard it. It’s timbre shooting a buzz of delight through you. The heat in your belly grows hotter, filling you with yearning that threatens to break you.

You nodded, feeling the warmth trickle down to your core. “Yes, please.” Those two words were all he needed—your breathy answer coaxing an unquenchable thirst within him. And he intends to drink his fill.

He kissed his way down your body. Guaranteeing you felt every kiss pressed to your skin and every scrap of his teeth. You were growing breathless already, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Anticipation makes your heart thud wildly inside your chest.

His lips gave attention to every plane of your body. Scorching his path from your neck to your breasts, and then to your stomach to make his way to your thighs.

A low grumble crawled up his throat when your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. The heavy pressure of his mouth slid closer up the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin there before going over it with his tongue. He could all but smell your arousal now this close to your center. The hunger to dive right in was almost overwhelming. The broad expanse of his shoulders pushed your legs further apart. Settling them over his back, his hand gripped the flesh of your thighs.

As the breath caught in your throat, your stomach swirled with delicious nerves. The warm slick gathered between your thighs was a glittering treasure Cregan took for himself. A surge of self-satisfaction rippled through him.

He takes in the wiggling of your body on his bed and hears the shaky inhales of your breath. Your thighs were twitching in his hold as he sank his teeth into the soft skin once more. You were like silk, smooth under his touch. The difference of his calloused fingers against your velvet skin was pure excellence in his eyes.

The first kiss he gave your slit knocked the breath from your lungs. When he licked a burning stripe up your core, your hearing grew fuzzy. His movements were careful and calculated to push you to the edge of complete insanity.

His arms around your hips went to bring you closer, a groan clawing up his throat as he pursued the pleasure of your cunt. He opened you to him with his tongue, desperate for whatever you granted him. A whine parted your lips as your hands gripped at his hair, your hips chasing the feel of his mouth without you even realizing it.

He was nothing if not formidable, even while he lapped at your wetness like a man starved. Resting between your legs, shoulders tensed with the vigor of his movements. He was solely focused on you, moaning into your center absently like he had never tasted something so sweet. He would spend the rest of his days with his face buried in your cunt if he could.

The heated cord within your belly continuously wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue. His mouth was ravenous, kissing and sucking with urgency, like if he didn’t make you come on his mouth, he would die.

“Cregan.” You sighed, writhing within his hold, causing his arms to grow tighter around you, locking you in place. The feeling was complete euphoria but also the sweetest torture at the same time. You yanked on the dark stands of his hair, urging him closer as if he wasn’t already practically inside you. “Please, don’t stop.” You begged, glancing down to see his starry eyes stuck on you.

He wasn’t about to let such a saccharine request go unanswered. But he also wasn’t going to let you squirm and wiggle about as you pleased. His belly was raging with hot fire, waiting for the chance to be released. His cock strained against his trousers, aching with the need to be inside of you. But he wanted to taste you spilling on his tongue first. He kept up with his heavy strokes against your center, drawing you closer and closer to your peak.

You were like honey on his tongue, surgery and sweet, all for him to devour. Listening to the melody of your whines and moans quickly became his favorite music. It brought him pleasure almost as much as it did you to know the ruinous state he’s gotten you in.

Your legs began to shake around his head, small tremors of ecstasy swimming through you. Cregan raked the path from your entrance to your clit with his tongue, circling the bundle of nerves a few times before taking it in his mouth. The soft gasps of his name that came from your lips as he sucked on your pearl were maddening. It had his fingers digging harder into the pliant flesh of your thighs, surely leaving bruises he would have to kiss once this was all over.

He was known to all as a stoic and serious man, but when he flicked his silver-hued eyes at you, they were nothing if not a flurry of affection. The sight of you on his bed breathless and lost to the pleasure he was giving you was heart-stopping. He had always thought you to be the prettiest girl he’d ever known, but now he likened you to a goddess. You had bewitched him body and soul.

His mouth still worked over your core. Switching between dipping his tongue into your entrance and wrapping his lips around your clit. Whenever he sucked the nerves in his mouth, he was rewarded with the prettiest sound to ever grace his ears. A high-pitched whine that slowly faded to a deep sigh.

You wanted to close your legs around his head, lock him there for the foreseeable future. But every time you moved your legs, he pried them apart, keeping you open to him so he could lavish his affection upon your cunt. His nose nudged your pearl whenever he dipped further down. You didn’t know how much more you could take. The peak was right there within your grasp; you just needed something to push you the rest of the way.

He was unrelenting, seemingly just as obsessed with bringing you apart with his mouth. A scream ripped past your lips as Cregan took your clit back in his mouth once more. His teeth bit down on the sensitive bundle of nerves, not hard enough to break skin but just enough to shoot a spike of pleasure pain down your spine. He drew his teeth away and soothed your pearl with his tongue.

“Cregan!” You sputtered, hips lurching forward to chase his mouth. You felt as though your whole body was on fire, that any moment now you would burst into flames. Your eyes screwed shut as stars exploded behind your eyelids. He dragged his teeth over your clit again, making your grip on his hair tighten even more. If you weren’t so out of it, you would have worried about pulling his hair out completely. “Do that again.” You pleaded with a trembling breath.

A huff of mild amusement escaped him before he was wrapping his mouth around your pearl and biting. He pulled at it with his teeth only to release it and sooth it over with his tongue. He drew whimper after whimper, moan after moan out of you. All the while, your legs shook around him with the weight of your impending release.

“Gods, I’m close!” A pleading moan tore past your lips, brain going hazy with the mounting pleasure. Your nails dug into his scalp as the cord grew taunt. The roughness didn’t discourage him, though. It merely made him all the more determined to push you over into oblivion.

“Please.” You spoke out into the air. A few more moments of his ministrations: bite, pull, sooth, suck. The cord snapped. A sharp gasp sounded from you as you shook like you were back in the cold winds outside. Everything spilled over; goosebumps erupted over your flesh. The heated tidal wave of your release rushing along your body. The sheer power of it having your back arching from the bed.

It felt as if your body was humming as your peak subsided slowly. Sinking back upon the furs, you untangled your fingers from Cregan’s hair. He was still gently lapping at your wetness as you reluctantly pushed him away. He lifted his head, eyes looking upon you with such reverence.

He kissed his way up your thighs, making sure to pay extra attention to the bruises he’d left. His lips were soft and caring on your sensitive skin. As he made his way further upwards, he pressed his face into your stomach. “I love you.” He whispered so faintly into your skin you weren’t sure if he even realized he said it.

“What?” You gasped, going up on your elbows to look at him. Face still buried in your middle, he murmured it again. This time raising his eyes to gauge your reaction. “You do?” You mumbled, becoming flustered all over again.

He crawled over you, covering your body beneath his burly physique as he claimed your lips. Your hand went to his cheek, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I do,” he husked. You took a moment to look at him, his eyes shining with adoration. “You still doubt my affections?”

You’re shaking your head instantly. “No,” you protest. “I simply didn’t expect you to say that.” You were grinning like a fool, mouth curved upwards in a beaming smile. He returned it, with one albeit smaller than yours, but it was still all him. You laughed into the kiss he gave you as he situated himself back between your legs.

“Allow me to show you then.” He spoke in a hushed voice. All you had to do was nod, and he was shucking off his breeches, kicking them from the bed.

You couldn’t see him, but you felt him big and hard against your thigh. Nerves swirled within you—not that he would ever hurt you intentionally, but that there would be no way around it hurting. You knew he would put your well-being above all else, though.

The barely-there smile still rested upon his face. “You’re still smiling.” You point out completely besotted with this mountain of a man.

“Hush woman.” He let out a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It was difficult to keep up his stone-like appearance in your presence. It always had been, but with your wide eyes looking up at him still hazy with pleasure, it was increasingly harder.

Bodies aligned and chests pressed against each other, you leaned up your lips searching for him, wanting another kiss. The kiss was as sweet as honey, soft as silk, much like you. From deep within his throat, a low rumble of approval echoed, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he returned the kiss with fervor.

You went to wrap your arms around his shoulders and found you could barely touch your hands together at the nape of his neck. Still though, it didn’t stop you from racking your nails across his skin. Hoping it would spurn him on. His cock rocked against your thigh, tip hitting your core for a split second.

“Patience, my girl.” He warned, rough palm soothing back your hair. “Slowly, I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed a line across your collarbone, nose skimming along your skin. You felt him slide up along your thigh, the tip nudging at your entrance again. Just that little friction had shivers racing up and down your spine.

He canted his hips forward, pushing just slightly into your cunt. He was as big as he seemed evidently; the sting spread further as he slid in slowly. Inch by inch, with every ridge and vein feeling like it was being imprinted inside you. Once he was half way seated, you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. A faint grunt of discomfort slipped past you. Your hand gripping the nape of his neck tightly.

He paused, looking down at you. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Keep going. I’m alright.” You promised, loosening your hold on him. He pressed a soothing kiss to your hairline before he pressed forward again.

Having him inside you even halfway was something you would have to get used to. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the stretch and sting were fading already. Once he was fully inside, the feeling of him filling you was almost overwhelming in the best ways. Cregan gave you ample time to adjust, holding himself back from rutting into you. He never wished to harm you, even if your warm tightness was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.

You tested your limits by rolling your hips to meet his. A hiss left the both of you as his cock slid even deeper, hitting some part of you that had you seeing stars. “Move.” You urged, back arching to press against him.

He drew out only to snap his hips forward, driving himself back in. Taking care to be as gentle as he could, he began a harsh but deep hitting pace. He was ardent in his lovemaking, cock thrusting into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He was keeping good on his promise to show you just how much he loved you.

You wrapped a leg around his hips, his hand instantly going to hold it in place. Fingers lightly running across your skin. Your other leg spread wider for him, giving him as much room as you could to accommodate his size. A melody of whines and gasps flew from you with every thrust. Your nails running down the rippling strength of his back.

His face was hidden in your neck, lips assaulting your skin. Bruising kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Teeth joining to nip here and there, leaving marks that you would deal with later. He pounded into you with equal fervor and tenderness. Cregan was nothing if not devoted in all things, so each thrust was measured to ensure he seated himself fully inside you every time.

With the whole of Winterfell in the great hall or asleep, you worried not about concealing the volume of your moans. Needy whines and whimpers left you, one after the other. A particularly harsh snap of his hips had you stuttering out his name. You felt like you were being split in two, but it was the most pleasurable thing you’d ever experienced.

The friction of your bodies sliding together was addicting. Each glide of his cock along your innerwalls drove you closer and closer to another peak. Walls tightening around him, drawing a muffled curse, he spoke into your neck. Your hands went to his hair once again, bringing his mouth to yours. You kissed him as his cock kissed your womb. Your lips molded together as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your thigh.

You nipped at his bottom lips as he had done to you, causing a growl to rumble up his throat. There was urgency about him now, with his release building and building buzzing at the base of his spine.

He dropped the hold on your thigh, planting his weight on his forearms by your head. Using the leverage to rut inside you at a faster and deeper pace. Intensity danced between you as his cock drove into you, seated fully inside you, then pulling out only to plunge back in.

There was an almost divine feeling to being inside of you. As if Cregan was made for you and you were made for him. He had to wed you, had to say the vows beneath the Weirwood tree, and make you his wife. His Lady of Winterfell.

He groaned at the thought, snatching your lips between his own for another blazing kiss. Teeth knocking together and tongues sliding over each other—this was not a romantic kiss. It was full of base needs and wants. The drive to claim you as his and never give another man the chance to see you like this. You were his.

“Cregan please.” You pleaded into his mouth, your breath mingling together. He didn’t relent; your whispered appeal only spurred him on. He was aching and pulsing inside you. Cock thrusting so deeply, he vaguely pictured you struggling to walk in the morning. The thought sent a smug ripple down his spine. Your thighs were trembling, and with this being your first time taking him, you very likely will be sore.

“Do you have another in you?” He huffed out the question. His release was just within his reach, but he wanted to feel you gush around him first. Have the tightness of your walls gripping him like steel as he pushes into you for the last time before spilling his seed.

“Mhm.” You hummed around your harmony of whimpers and gasps. You rolled your hips to meet his as if to further prove what you wanted. The friction doing delicious things to the both of you.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d sunk into you. It was too many to keep up with. But the look that glimmered in his eyes told you it wouldn’t be much longer until another rush of euphoria greeted you.

His cock battered into you, his pace becoming faster than before. His hands moved from beside your head to grip your hips. Fingers sliding under to hold the small of your back, he lifted you slightly off the bed. The new angle had him hitting that spot within you that had you writhing up to meet him. Your senses became cloudy with nothing but the feeling of him inside breaking through.

“That’s it, my girl.” He husked out, feeling you shudder beneath him as your cunt clamped down on his length. He kept up his pace, racing after his own peak. Lowering you back down to rest on the furs again, he groaned heavy and hot into your neck as he spilled inside of you. The warmth exploded at the base of his spine and spread. Keeping his hips moving to help you both ride out your pleasure, he thrusted into you a few more times.

You whimpered as he withdrew from you, but he was quick to soothe you with a slow kiss to your lips. You fingers threaded through his brown tresses holding him to you. The display was all care and affection, a stark contrast to the intense moment between you just seconds ago.

When he rolled off you, he didn’t go far, his large form laying out beside you and drawing you to his side. His strong arm slung around you, locking you to his side.

An easy silence fell over you as you both regained your senses. The aftermath of your coupling filled to tender caresses of hands over heated skin. Soft presses of his lips upon your jaw, making your head relax into the pillow.

You weren’t aware of how much time passed before a halting thought crossed your mind. “Should I not leave?” You asked. Cregan furrowed his brows at you as if you were speaking in riddles. “There will surely be whispers if I am seen in your chambers in the morning,” you clarified.

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. His hold on you becomes tighter and a touch more protective. “You will be my wife soon enough. Whatever any of my people have to say about it, they will do well to make sure I do not hear of it.”

Completely smitten with him as well as his response, you choose not to argue. Much preferring to settle back into his warmth and spend the night caged within his arms.

I think this is the longest fic I have ever wrote, but I'm in love with it.

﹙taglist﹚@madame-fear

#house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hotd fanfiction #hotd #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan stark fanfic

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multific · 4 months ago

Text

A Holiday

Yautja x Reader

Summary: Imagine trying to explain to a Yautja what Christmas is.

You have spent many years on Yautja Prime.

Being a mate to a Yautja Leader came with many obstacles but it also came with many joys.

This year, you decided on a mission to explain the significance of Christmas and its cherished traditions.

It used to be your favourite holiday after all.

During dinner, your mate sits opposite of you, eating his food when you take a deep breath, ready to unfold the wonder and joy of the festive occasion.

With enthusiastic gestures, you begin by describing Christmas as a special time of year when people all over the world come together to celebrate love, kindness, and gratitude.

It's a magical season that brings warmth and cheer to hearts, where families and friends gather to share precious moments and create lasting memories.

You explain that Christmas is often symbolized by a beautiful evergreen tree decorated with sparkling lights, colourful ornaments, and a shining star on top.

These decorations, you explain, serve as a visual representation of the joy and hope that the season brings.

As you continue, you delve into the significance of gift-giving during Christmas.

You explain that it's a heartfelt way to express love and appreciation for one another. People exchange carefully chosen presents, wrapped in colourful paper and tied with ribbons, to show that they care and value the bond they share.

You then remember the traditional foods and feasts that make Christmas even more special.

You describe the aroma of freshly baked cookies and cakes, the savoury dishes prepared with love, and the rich hot chocolate that warms both body and soul during the chilly winter nights.

As you paint a vivid picture of Christmas, you mention the character known as Santa Claus.

With a twinkle in your eye, you reveal that Santa is believed to travel around the world in a sleigh, pulled by magical reindeer, to deliver gifts to children while they sleep.

This mythical figure represents the joy of giving and the spirit of generosity that permeates the season.

With each detail you share, your mate's eyes widen in wonder and curiosity. So many questions.

You can sense the growing interest in Christmas and the values it represents.

You emphasize that, beyond the material aspects, Christmas is a time for compassion, forgiveness, and embracing the true spirit of humanity.

It is a time when differences are set aside, and unity and love prevail.

You eagerly await a response, hoping that the magic of this season has captured the imagination of your beloved, just as it does for people around the world, including you.

---

The next day, you were out with the females.

You liked to take care of their little ones.

Upon your arrival, you noticed something in your living space.

It almost looked like a tree.

Instead of ornaments, it was filled with trophies.

Your Mate's trophies.

You recalled when yesterday you mentioned to him the meaning of ornaments on a Christmas tree. Their value and what they meant.

"Christmas tree." you spoke up just as your Mate entered the room. You smiled at him. "I love it, it's so beautiful!" just as you spoke the lights turned on.

If you were to explain it, it was a very Yautja Christmas Tree.

You were so happy that he not only listened to you talk about Christmas but also decided to implement it.

This was the best Christmas ever.

Even on a planet far from Earth, you were able to find a home, you were able to find love and now, your favourite Holiday.

"Thank you." you jumped into the arms of your Yautja who made happy noises. Upon seeing you happy, it affected him.

He was glad he could make you happy.

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS/

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ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 7 months ago

Text

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: Fresh start

Word count: 4507

Summary: After freshening up, Y/N is warmly welcomed by her pack and her new scent, especially Felix and Han, but the mood shifts when I.N becomes overwhelmed by her returning scent. Chan and Lee Know reassure him, while Y/N feels guilty. Hyunjin then invites her on a grocery run, allowing them to bond despite her nervousness. Upon returning, they find the pack in turmoil due to Seungmin’s hurtful words to Felix. Y/N steps in to mediate, expressing her desire to belong and urging unity. After the confrontation, she finds comfort in Hyunjin’s support while unpacking her belongings, deepening their connection and making her feel more at home.

Warning: Angst/comfort, cursing, hate.

After Y/N freshened up, she made her way downstairs, the familiar sounds of her pack filling the air. As soon as she reached the bottom step, she was ambushed by Felix and Han.

"Y/Nnie! I missed you so much!" Felix exclaimed, his eyes shining with joy as he wrapped her in a bear hug.

"You smell so sweet, Y/Nnie," Han chimed in, pressing his face into her neck, inhaling deeply.

"Hannie, stop licking it!" she squeaked, laughter bubbling up as Han playfully nuzzled her scent gland. "That tickles!"

"Can’t help it! You just smell so good," he teased, grinning at her reaction.

Just then, Chan stepped in, a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face. "You two, cut it out. Let her breathe!"

Felix pouted but let go, while Han feigned innocence. "We’re just showing our love, Chan!"

"Well, your love is suffocating her," Chan replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Now come eat before it gets cold!"

Lee Know appeared from the kitchen, expertly placing down a feast of breakfast dishes. "Seriously, guys, let her eat," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Whoa, bacon!" Changbin yelled, rushing in and plopping down at the table as the rest of the members filtered in one by one.

Just then, I.N stumbled into the room, his face pale and his hair disheveled. "Chan?" he mumbled, gripping the doorway for support.

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes turning toward him with concern. "Oh my God, what’s wrong, I.N?" Chan rushed over, guiding him to a nearby chair.

"I... there’s a new scent," I.N gasped, clutching his chest. "It’s making my alpha go crazy, Chan. My heart won’t stop racing. I feel so sick."

Panic flickered across Chan's face as he exchanged a worried glance with Lee Know. "Innie, that’s Y/N’s scent. She got her scent back," he said slowly, the realization dawning on them both.

"What?!" I.N’s eyes widened, confusion mixing with distress. "But how? Is she okay?"

"She’s fine!" Chan reassured him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You just need to breathe. It’s overwhelming, but it’s just her. You’ll get used to it."

"Yeah, your alpha instincts are just reacting," Lee Know added, trying to keep the mood light. "You’re okay, just… chill."

“Will he be okay?” Y/N asked, a twinge of guilt creeping into her voice as she watched I.N struggle.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. His alpha just needs to adjust to you and your new scent,” Changbin reassured her, handing I.N a cup of water. “Here, drink this.”

“O-okay, but do I have to stay away from him…?” she frowned, her fingers absentmindedly playing with Felix’s charm bracelet, a nervous habit she’d developed.

“No, no! I can handle it,” I.N insisted, though his eyes flashed red momentarily as he squeezed them shut, trying to regain control. He let out a soft growl, his nails digging into Chan’s skin as he fought against the overwhelming sensations.

“I.Nnie, you should go back to bed,” Chan said, his voice laced with concern as he felt I.N’s grip tightening.

“I’ll take him, Hyung,” Han offered, rising from his seat, but Chan quickly shook his head.

“No, babe, he’s really heavy. You might tumble and fall,” Chan replied, carefully lifting I.N, who felt almost weightless in his arms despite the tension radiating from him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Y/N said, her voice trembling slightly. “I can put on the scent blockers so you don’t have to feel like this.”

“NO. Don’t,” I.N huffed, frustration etched on his face as he held his head in his hands. “You just got better! I’m not going to ruin that again.”

Chan exchanged worried glances with the others, feeling the weight of I.N’s struggle. “You’re not ruining anything. We’ll figure this out together. Just breathe.”

I.N took a shaky breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “It’s just… it feels like I’m on fire. I can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper

“I’ll bring some ginger tea; it should help,” Leeknow instructed, getting started on the tea as Chan hummed and slipped away into the corridors.

“Felix, babe, I need you to show Y/N her room, please, and help her unpack, okay?” Leeknow asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Alright, baby, I got you,” Felix replied, planting a quick kiss on Leeknow’s cheek before heading to the sink to put his dishes away.

“Han, can you go grab more eggs from the chicken coop?” Leeknow asked, pouring hot water into a cup.

“I can do that! Can I take Y/N with me, Hyung?” Han pleaded, giving Leeknow his best puppy-dog eyes.

Leeknow rolled his eyes but eventually nodded. “Okay, but you two be careful. No crossing the forest line, understood?” He shot them a serious look, making sure they understood.

“Yes, yes—”

“Good morning, everyone!” Hyunjin strolled into the kitchen, his aura commanding instant attention. Y/N froze, sitting up straight, while Felix pouted.

“I’m going to the store. Y/N, come on,” Hyunjin said, his gaze locking onto her, causing the room to fall silent.

“M-me?” she stammered, swallowing hard.

“Yes, you pabo. Who else is named Y/N?” Hyunjin smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“B-but I thought you hated me…” Y/N’s voice faltered, her grip tightening around Felix’s hand. She felt a mix of fear and a longing for acceptance from Hyunjin, despite his past behavior.

“Ugh,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, furrowing his brow as he grabbed a piece of toast. “I can tolerate you. Come on before I change my mind.” With that, he headed out, leaving an echo of tension in the air.

“I think you should go, Y/Nnie. It’ll give you guys some time alone,” Changbin encouraged her gently.

“R-really?” she whispered, hope flickering in her chest.

“Yeah, I talked to him, so he’ll behave,” Leeknow chimed in, grabbing the cup of tea for I.N. “Good luck, baby.”

Y/N glanced at Felix, who looked just as confused but supportive. Slowly, she let go of his hand.

“I’ll come with you,” Felix said, shrugging as he stood up.

“But Felix—” she hissed, anxiety creeping in.

“It’s good for you guys to get along. I hate my mates fighting,” Felix whined, pulling her toward the door. “This is a good time for him to apologize.”

“Felix!” she protested, but they were already outside, standing by Hyunjin’s car. He looked at them with an expression of mild boredom as he unlocked the door.

“You two behave. Actually, Hyunjin, you behave. If you hurt her, I swear—”

“Babe, I won’t. Calm down,” Hyunjin huffed, starting the engine.

“Felix, I thought you were coming?” Y/N pouted, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Nope! Hyunjin, drive before she jumps out of the car,” Felix giggled, closing the door just as Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. Before she could react, they were pulling out of the driveway, her scent intensifying with rising fear.

“Relax, will you? Your scent is going to make me pass out,” Hyunjin said, turning on the AC.

“S-sorry,” Y/N muttered, trying to calm her racing heart. She felt trapped between excitement and anxiety, hoping that this awkward outing might lead to something better between her and Hyunjin.

She let out soft whimpers as Hyunjin’s gaze focused on her lap. He was wrestling with his own nerves, trying to figure out how to start the conversation. Why did she have to smell so good? His beta instincts were on high alert, making it hard to concentrate, and he almost missed the turn into the supermarket.

“Okay, listen,” he finally said as he parked the car. Y/N didn’t look up, worried he might think she was challenging him. Sighing, he reached for her shaking hands. “You need to breathe and stop shaking. I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she stared at their hands interlocked in surprise. What was happening here?

“Y/N, I really want to apologize for making your past few days difficult,” he said, his voice softening.

“Apologize?” she whispered, glancing up at him, confusion flickering in her eyes. “But…”

“It wasn’t fair for me to judge you right away. I should have given you a chance before shutting you out. I guess I’m just… nervous. Sorry,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair and squeezing her hands gently.

“You don’t have to be nervous, oppa,” she replied, her lips curving into a small smile. His flustered state was oddly endearing, and she felt a warmth spread through her.

“I’m really sorry for hurting your feelings. You’re part of our pack now, and it’s my job to take care of you. I’ve had my own struggles in the past, and they kind of clouded my judgment… just ask Jisung,” he added with a light laugh.

“I’ve heard about the headphones,” she giggled, feeling the tension lift as her scent brightened.

“Yeah, poor I.N.,” he said with a smirk, rubbing soothing circles on her hand. “The point is, I really hope we can start fresh.”

“It’s okay, oppa. I get where you’re coming from. I really appreciate your apology, and I’m all for a fresh start,” she replied, her voice warm.

“Thank you! And don’t worry about Seungmin; he’ll come around eventually,” Hyunjin said, his tone lightening. He leaned over and gave her hand a quick, friendly kiss, making her blush.

“Aish, so cute!” he laughed, quickly pulling out his phone to snap a picture of her adorable expression.

“NOOOO!” she squealed, trying to grab the phone from him.

“Too late!” he teased, playfully keeping it out of her reach. He turned off the car and opened the door with a grin. “Let’s head inside before they think I actually left you stranded,”

As they got out, she felt a mixture of relief and excitement. Maybe things were finally turning a corner between them.

"I'm just grabbing some paint," Hyunjin informed her as they wandered down a few aisles. He intertwined their fingers again, feeling his beta instincts kick into high gear now that he had one of his omega's by his side. “Don’t leave my side.”

"You paint?" Y/N asked softly, glancing at a few items on the shelves.

"Yeah, I think you've heard the rules about my painting room," he said, quickly looking at her. She remembered the tales of his exclusive space.

“Oh, yes! Can I see a painting?” she asked casually, but he stiffened for a moment, his mind racing.

“Yes, one day,” he replied, trying to maintain his composure as he picked out paints and brushes. “If you see anything you want, just put it in the tray, okay?”

“But oppa, I don’t have money,” she frowned.

“It’s okay, I’m paying—”

“But—”

“Pick something or we’re not leaving the store,” he said with a playful glare. She huffed like a little kid, reluctantly moving down the aisle. She felt a bit overwhelmed; having just gone on a shopping spree a few days ago, she wasn’t sure what to get.

“Don’t go too far, Y/N,” he warned, glancing back at her as she wandered into another aisle.

“Okay, oppa!” she called back, strolling around but making sure to return to him every few minutes. Once he finished, he quickly followed her as she looked for something she wanted.

“Can I get some baking supplies?” she asked when they reached the baking aisle.

“Yeah, go ahead. Do you like baking?” Hyunjin asked, looking up from his phone.

“Yes, I do! I noticed you guys only have trays for brownies,” she pouted, dropping pans into the basket.

“Yeah, because Felix only bakes brownies and cookies,” he explained, leaning over to admire her. She looked beautiful, her skin glowing under the store’s lights.

“Really? That needs to change now that I’m here. I’m going to teach him more recipes—”

Suddenly, a voice squealed, interrupting their peaceful shopping. “Oh my god, are you Hyunjin? Hyunjin from Stray Kids? Camilla, I told you it was him!”

“Ugh, we forgot to wear masks,” he hissed, cursing himself. He instinctively stood in front of Y/N, shielding her while putting on a forced smile.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, waving and bowing slightly.

“Hyunjin! Can we please have a picture?” one girl asked, grabbing onto him without consent.

“Hey, whoa, calm down,” he chuckled nervously, trying to pry her off him. “I’m kind of busy right now, so I can’t really take pictures.”

Y/N felt her agitation rising as she softly growled, her protective instincts flaring. Why were they touching him without asking?

“But Hyunjin! This is the first time I’ve ever seen you!” another girl exclaimed.

“He said back off,” Y/N growled softly again, her eyes shimmering gold. Hyunjin gasped and quickly pulled her under his arm, trying to comfort her.

“Ladies, we’ll be off. Maybe next time,” he said, panic creeping into his voice. He felt Y/N’s tension and wanted to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible. The girls looked surprised but took a step back, realizing they’d crossed a line.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” he said, guiding her away. “I’m sorry about that. You okay?”

She nodded, though she still felt the remnants of her frustration. “Yeah, just... why didn’t they ask first?”

“I know, they really should have respected our space,” he replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “But let’s focus on you for now. What else do you want to pick out?”

Y/N pouted slightly, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude that he was so quick to brush off the situation but she decided to let it go for now. “I’ve got everything for baking, but can I grab a few snacks for I.N? He wasn’t feeling so well.”

“Of course,” he said, shrugging with a smile. “Let’s find him some good stuff.” He followed her around the aisle, his fingers still tapping away on his phone as he texted the group about the situation, balancing concern for I.N with a playful ease as they browsed together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

𝔹𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕠𝕤💦🍑

Babydaddy🍆💦:

How's shopping going babe? Did she forgive you?

GreekGod👨‍🎨 :

Yeah she did and shopping is alright, she's picking out a few baking supplies right now

Sunshinetwin#1💛🐣:

Ohh! she looks so cute Hyung!🥺😍

Sunshinetwin#2❤️🍑:

Yes she does! tell her i say i miss her😭

Gymdaddy❤️💦🍆:

You guys just saw her 20 minutes ago🤔🤔

Sunshinetwin#2❤️🍑:

Yes but still. I miss her☹️☹️

GreekGod👨‍🎨 :

We'll be home in a bit. She wants to pick up some snacks for I.N and you guys

Babybread🦊🩵:

Yah! she's so cute i cant handle it.🥰🥰

Catmommy😻❤️:

Are you feeling better innie?

Babybread🦊🩵:

Yes hyung, i've calmed down a bit

GreekGod👨‍🎨 :

what even happened?

Babydaddy🍆💦:

He needs to get used to Y/n's scent or he might go feral on her

GreekGod👨‍🎨 :

Damn! that's tough, you'll be okay baby. i'll come cuddle you when i'm back

Meanie🐶❤️:

That's a sign for her to leave, i thought you were on my team Hyunjin? why are you with her?

GreekGod👨‍🎨 :

Okay first of all there is no such thing as teams🙄🙄

GreekGod👨‍🎨 :

and Leeknow-hyung and Channie-hyung talked some sense into me and she's actually pretty cool to hang out with. you should get to know her

Meanie🐶❤️:

I'd rather die.😒

Babydaddy🍆💦:

Behave now.🤨

Meanie🐶❤️:

Don't tell me what to do.

Catmommy😻❤️:

Who are you talking to like that?🤨

Meanie🐶❤️:

BangChan who else? Leave me alone Leeknow.

Sunshinetwin#1💛🐣:

ouu you've done it this time seungmin.😰😰

Meanie🐶❤️:

Shut up Felix this is your fault

Sunshinetwin#1💛🐣:

Im sorry Seungmin ☹️☹️

GreekGod👨‍🎨 :

Don't talk to him like that or i'll deal with you when i get home🤨

Babydaddy🍆💦:

No i will.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hyunjin?” Y/N called, tugging at his sweater as he furiously texted on his phone, seemingly lost in his own world. “Hyunjin? Is everything okay?” Her nose scrunched up at the sour scent wafting off him, a mix of anxiety and frustration.

“Hyunjin, your scent—” she coughed, tugging harder at his jacket. Finally, he snapped out of it.

“Hey, whoa, sorry. I was distracted. You okay?” He rubbed her back, trying to calm both himself and her.

“Yeah, I was saying I was done,” she said, shifting on her foot nervously while glancing into the basket filled with their finds.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said, but she didn’t budge, a frown deepening on her face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He crouched slightly to meet her gaze.

“Are you mad at me? If I made you mad, I can put something back—”

“No, love, I’m not mad. I’m mad at something else, but not you,” he reassured her, feeling a pang of guilt for making her worry.

“You sure?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, pulling her under his arms again, feeling the tension ease a bit.

“U-um, can I scent you?” she asked, playing with his sleeve, her voice soft and a little shy. “Just to make sure?”

“Yes, once we get to the car, love,” he assured her with a gentle smile. They made their way to the register, and Hyunjin didn’t even wait for the total cost; he simply swiped his card and grabbed the bags, eager to get outside.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, leading her out of the store.

Once they were outside, she took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air wash over her. “Thank you for letting me come with you,” she said, glancing up at him.

“Of course! I thought you might enjoy it,” he replied, his expression softening. “And besides, I wanted to spend some time with you. Just us.”

She smiled, feeling her heart flutter. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely. Now, how about that scenting?” he teased lightly, guiding her to the car.

“Right!” Y/N grinned, her nervousness fading. Once inside, she leaned in closer, inhaling his comforting scent and scenting his neck glands. “See? Much better.”

“Glad I could help,” he chuckled, watching her with warmth. “Now let’s head home and show Felix your new baking supplies. He’s going to be so excited,”

“Definitely, And maybe we can bake together?” she suggested, her eyes lighting up.

“Sounds like a plan. I’m looking forward to it,” he replied, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot, feeling lighter now that they were back on the same page.

Y/N and Hyunjin stepped into the house, both feeling lighter after their shopping trip. But the moment they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted. A huge argument echoed through the halls, making them pause.

“Man,” Hyunjin huffed, sighing as he grabbed all the bags out of the car. “What now?”

“Is everything okay? Why are they fighting?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Probably because of Seungmin,” Hyunjin replied, unlocking the door just as the argument grew louder. They navigated through the living room, which was empty, and entered the kitchen where Leeknow was cooking lunch.

“You aren’t getting involved?” Hyunjin snickered as he set down the snacks and Y/N’s supplies before reaching for his painting gear.

“Nope, the alphas are handling it. He made Felix cry,” Leeknow said, feeding Y/N a piece of kimchi. “Is it good?”

“Yes, oppa! But why is Felix crying?” she asked, reaching for I.N's snacks.

Leeknow exchanged a nervous glance with Hyunjin before he spoke. “Seungmin said some hurtful things, but it’s okay—”

“It is his fault! She wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t brought her here!” Seungmin’s loud voice cut through the kitchen, making Y/N wince.

“No, it isn’t my fault! You’re the only one who has a problem!” Felix shrieked, his voice cracking as loud sobs followed.

“Hey! Both of you, cut it out now!” Changbin yelled, his commanding voice drowning out the chaos.

Feeling a mix of curiosity and concern, Y/N found her feet moving before she could think twice. She headed upstairs, Hyunjin right behind her. “Where are you going?” he asked, his tone a mix of worry and caution.

“I want to see what’s going on,” she replied, glancing back at him. “Maybe I can help.”

“Y/N, be careful,” he warned, though his tone held a hint of admiration for her bravery.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the argument grew even louder. Y/N stopped in front of a door slightly ajar, peeking inside to find Seungmin pacing, his face flushed with anger. Felix sat on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks, while I.N stood with clenched fists, visibly upset.

“Can we all just calm down for a second?” I.N pleaded, his voice wavering. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one who feels like the outsider here!” Seungmin shot back, frustration evident in his tone.

“Y/N is part of our pack now! You need to accept that!” Felix shouted through his tears, his voice breaking.

Hyunjin stepped forward, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “Maybe we shouldn't go in,” he suggested, his expression serious.

“Wait,” Y/N whispered, feeling the tension in the air. “I think I need to say something.” She took a deep breath, ready to step into the fray.

She squeezed Hyunjin’s hand for reassurance, then stepped into the room, her presence instantly capturing everyone's attention.

“Guys,” she said, her voice steady but gentle, “can we all just take a moment?”

I.N’s eyes widened in surprise, and Felix quickly wiped his tears, looking hopeful. “Y/N, you shouldn’t have to—”

“No, let her speak,” Hyunjin interrupted, stepping beside her. “She deserves to be heard.”

Y/N nodded, gathering her thoughts as she faced the room. “I know things have been tense since I got here. I appreciate that you all care so much, but I don’t want to be the reason for any more fighting. You’re my pack now, and I want us to get along.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to—” Changbin started, but she held up a hand.

“I do want to. It’s important to me. I know it’s hard for everyone to adjust, especially with how things started. But I really want to make this work,” she said, glancing at each of them. “You all mean a lot to me already, and I don’t want anyone to feel like they’re not included.”

Felix sniffled, his eyes glistening. “I just want us all to be happy.”

“Exactly,” Y/N encouraged, her voice steady. “Let’s find a way to support each other instead of pushing each other away. I promise I’m not here to take anyone’s place. I want to grow with all of you.”

“This is pathetic,” Seungmin scoffed, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Seriously, what’s your problem with me?” Y/N shot back, her gaze unwavering. “I get that you don’t like me, but the rest of the pack does. So what’s the issue? Can you stop bullying me and just back off?” Her voice carried a mix of frustration and hurt, and the room fell silent, the tension palpable.

“You don’t even know me, so why do you have a problem with me?” she continued, her voice firm but shaking slightly.

Seungmin only scoffed again before storming out, leaving everyone else in the room exchanging worried glances.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Chan sighed, getting off his bed and making his way after the beta. He paused to give Felix and Han a quick kiss on the forehead, offering them a reassuring smile.

Y/N felt a wave of frustration wash over her; she couldn’t bear to see Felix upset because of her. “I need some air,” she murmured and quickly slipped out of the room.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hyunjin called after her, his brow furrowing in concern. He gently grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking away.

“I just… I need to nest and have some time alone. Can you show me my room?” she sighed, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, his tone warm and understanding. “Let’s go.”

They walked down the corridor together, the atmosphere lightening a little as they made their way to her room. “I’ll drop my stuff in my room and then come help you move the bags from Felix’s,” Hyunjin said, glancing at her.

She nodded, grateful for his support. Once they got the bags with all her new items and reached her room, which was similar to Felix’s but with a larger bed—likely because it was one of the guest rooms—Y/N felt a bit of relief wash over her.

She sat down in the middle of her bags, feeling the weight of the day finally starting to lift. Hyunjin flopped onto the bed, scrolling through his social media while occasionally checking in on her.

Y/N focused on folding her clothes, lost in her own thoughts as she neatly organized everything. Meanwhile, Hyunjin couldn’t resist snapping another photo of her, capturing the moment as she concentrated, wishing he could know what was going through her mind.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “You’re really good at this. Need any help?”

She looked up, surprised by his offer. “I appreciate it, but I think I’ve got it. Just give me a moment.”

“Okay, but I’m right here if you need me,” he assured her, a warm smile lighting up his face.

Feeling a bit lighter, Y/N smiled back, grateful for his presence.

She sighed again as she sat in the middle of the bags, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The tension from earlier with Seungmin still clung to her like a heavy blanket, and she felt overwhelmed. Hyunjin watched her from the bed, his heart aching for her. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t want to intrude.

“Hey,” he said softly again, breaking the silence. “You know, it’s okay to feel upset about Seungmin. He’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated?” she scoffed, folding a shirt with more force than necessary. “That’s one way to put it. I don’t understand why he has to be like this. I haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yeah, he can be a bit of a bully sometimes,” Hyunjin admitted, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. “But it’s not about you. He has his own issues to deal with. It doesn’t make it right, though.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier for me either,” she replied, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “I just want to feel like I belong here, and he’s making that really hard.”

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with empathy. “You do belong, Y/N. I promise. The others see it, even if Seungmin can’t right now. Give him time.”

She nodded, but doubt still flickered in her eyes. “I just don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I hate that Felix is upset because of me.”

“Felix cares about you. We all do,” he reassured her. “He’ll come around. And as for Seungmin, he’ll figure it out eventually. You just have to keep being you.”

“Being me seems to be causing chaos,” she muttered, trying to chuckle but it came out as more of a sigh.

“Sometimes chaos is part of the process,” Hyunjin replied with a small smile. “Look at it this way: if he’s reacting this strongly, it means you matter. He wouldn’t waste energy on you if he didn’t.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. Just hang in there,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “Now, let’s tackle these bags. You can’t nest properly until your stuff is sorted.”

As they began to unpack again, Hyunjin found himself stealing glances at her, admiring how she focused on each item with care. She was mesmerizing in her own way, and he couldn’t help but capture another photo of her, hoping to remember this moment.

“Hyunjin, are you going to keep taking pictures of me?” she asked, catching him mid-snap.

“Maybe,” he replied playfully, grinning. “But only because you look cute while you work.”

“Cute, huh?” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “Keep that up, and I might start thinking you’re flirting with me.”

“Would that be so bad?” he teased, leaning back on his hands, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Maybe not,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. “But let’s focus on unpacking first.”

“Deal,” he said, and they fell into a comfortable rhythm, chatting and laughing as they sorted through her belongings.

As the last bag was put away, Y/N finally felt a sense of calm washing over her. Nesting was important, and with Hyunjin’s support, she felt a little more at home. “Thanks for helping me,” she said softly, her gratitude genuine.

“Anytime, Y/N.” He paused, glancing toward the door. “Let’s get ready to leave, yeah? Practice starts soon and i think Chan will want us to have lunch before we leave,”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Dont forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Finally! we've gotten the long awaited apology from Hyunjin!

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meo-eiru · 9 months ago

Note

Heyyy ! I loved the huge elf Silas and I was wondering would he ever wanna bride or marry the reader if he ever realize his platonic feelings is instead romantic to her ? Like wife her up ? And how interesting would it be if she says no bluntly ?

Marriage for elves is a grand event that requires big celebrations. Usually with a feast in the town hall and all the elves bringing gifts for the two marrying. This is because there already are not that many elves around (maybe a couple hundred) and when elves get married they get married for life. It’s a big promise of unity that lasts even after death.

Once Silas notices his feelings for you, marriage would be something he’d like to do if you’re also ok with it. He would even go and get you the prettiest silver ring possible.

But Silas wouldn’t want to do it in a grand way in the town hall like the other elves do. He wants it to be something private and special between you two. He fantasizes about decorating his garden with various flowers and lights. He could get you a beautiful dress or suit.

He wants you two to be the witnesses of your love, and as he slowly gives you a kiss, a sign of his eternal love for you, he wants you to remember it forever as a moment of passion only you two get to share.

#asks #silas #yandere elf

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

A Lion's Folly (a lion and a wolf)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the honest

- Next part: the broken

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis @urdxrling @meowmeowmothermeower @nen-nyy

The morning of his wedding arrived draped in warm light, the sun rising over the cliffs of Casterly Rock, casting long shadows through the grand halls. It was a beautiful day, the kind that should mark the beginning of something joyful. But for Jaime Lannister, there was no joy to be found.

The servants had already begun their work—preparing the Great Hall for the feast, polishing the floors until they gleamed, dressing the walls with the sigils of both Lannister and Stark. It was a grotesque display, he thought, a spectacle of unity that was built on blood and betrayal.

And soon, you would be wearing Lannister colors.

Jaime stood before the tall mirror in his chambers, staring at his own reflection as the attendants adjusted the golden clasps on his ceremonial tunic. Crimson and gold, lined with embroidery so fine it could only be Lannister work. They draped the heavy cloak over his shoulders, fastening it with a roaring lion at his collar.

He looked the part. He looked like the heir to Casterly Rock. Like the man his father always wanted him to be.

And yet, he had never felt more hollow.

Kevan entered without knocking, his presence calm but expectant. "You’re nearly ready."

Jaime gave a humorless chuckle. "Ready? Is that what we’re calling it?"

Kevan sighed, stepping forward. "I know this isn’t what you envisioned for yourself."

Jaime turned, tilting his head. "Oh? And what exactly did I envision, Uncle?" He gestured vaguely with his golden hand. "Living out my days with a sword in my grip and the taste of battle on my tongue? Sworn to a king I didn’t respect and a cause I didn’t believe in?" His voice was quiet, bitter. "Or did you mean the part where I spend a lifetime bound to a woman who despises me?"

Kevan studied him carefully. "You made your choice, Jaime."

Jaime let out a slow breath. "I did. But it has become twisted."

His uncle’s expression remained unreadable. "You picked her yourself and your father has ensured that this union secures the North. This marriage isn’t just about you, and it’s certainly not about her. It’s about legacy. Power. Stability."

Jaime exhaled sharply, turning back toward the mirror. "And what if I don’t care about any of that? What if I care only about her."

Kevan sighed. "Then you are more foolish than I thought."

Jaime clenched his jaw. He had known this conversation was coming—had known his uncle would try to reason with him, to remind him of his duty. It was the Lannister way.

But duty meant nothing when all he could think about was the look in your eyes last night. The way you had pleaded with him. The way you had broken in his arms.

"She hates me," Jaime muttered under his breath.

Kevan didn’t deny it.

"She will learn to accept it," was all his uncle said.

Jaime turned toward him, his expression cold. "Like Cersei accepted Robert?"

For the first time, Kevan faltered. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t speak.

Jaime scoffed. "That’s what I thought."

He dismissed the attendants with a wave of his hand, his mind still swirling. Once they were gone, he turned to Kevan again. "And what of Robb Stark?"

Kevan's brows furrowed. "Why do you ask?"

Jaime took a step forward, voice lowering. "Because she will ask about him more. Because she will never forgive me if I keep lying to her."

Kevan's gaze darkened. "Then perhaps you shouldn’t have told her anything at all."

Jaime’s hands curled into fists. "That wasn’t an option."

Kevan regarded him for a long moment before shaking his head. "You should count yourself fortunate, Jaime. Most men don’t get to choose their fate. Your father has given you a gift—a new beginning."

Jaime let out a hollow laugh. "A new beginning?" He turned away, staring out the window toward the sea. "Feels more like an ending."

Kevan watched him for a moment longer before sighing. "Get dressed. The ceremony begins soon."

Jaime didn’t reply, and his uncle left without another word.

For a long time, Jaime stood there, staring at the crashing waves below, feeling more like a prisoner in his own home than he ever had before.

He had never been afraid of battle. Never feared death. But today, as he prepared to stand before the gods and bind himself to you, he realized he was terrified.

Not of the vows. Not of the responsibilities.

But of the fact that for the first time in his life, he wanted something—someone—he could never truly have.

The hall was suffocating.

The towering golden pillars, the vast ceilings carved with Lannister pride, the flickering candlelight—it was meant to be grand, magnificent, a display of power. But to Jaime, it felt more like a tomb.

He stepped through the great doors, his crimson cloak trailing behind him, every step heavy with the weight of expectation. The gathered lords and ladies of the Westerlands stood as he entered, their murmurs dying down to a hush. His uncle was already seated at the high table, his expression unreadable, his cold eyes watching every move.

But Jaime wasn’t looking at him.

His eyes found you.

You stood at the altar, waiting, a prisoner in Lannister gold.

You were beautiful. Gods, you were beautiful. And yet, there was something tragic about the way you held yourself—rigid, unyielding, as if your entire body were resisting what was about to happen.

The gown they had put you in was elegant, finely woven with golden embroidery that shimmered in the candlelight. The delicate fabric should have made you look soft, regal, but it did the opposite. It made you look like something gilded, something owned.

Jaime hated it.

Your hands were clasped together in front of you, your jaw tight, your chin lifted in quiet defiance. Even now, even in the moment where you were supposed to be bound to him, you refused to break.

But when your eyes met his, Jaime felt his breath leave him.

Because for the briefest of moments, it wasn’t you looking at him.

It was Eddard Stark.

The same quiet fury. The same unwavering resolve. The same disappointment.

Jaime swallowed hard, his fingers flexing at his sides. He had always hated the way Ned Stark looked at him, as though Jaime were nothing but a dishonorable oathbreaker, a man without honor.

And now, standing before you, he realized he had done something even worse.

He had stolen a Stark from her pack.

His chest tightened painfully as he took another step forward, forcing himself to hold your gaze. You didn’t look away, didn’t flinch, but there was something in your eyes—something raw, something breaking—that made Jaime feel as though he had just been cleaved in two.

Bronn stood off to the side, watching, his usual smirk replaced with something unreadable. The Lannister guards flanked you, ensuring you didn’t run again, their presence an unspoken threat.

She is here against her will.

She is being forced into this.

And I am the one standing beside her.

Jaime tore his gaze from yours, looking down at the stone floor, at the way the candlelight cast shadows against it.

Jaime wished he could be someone else.

“Take your place,” came the High Septon’s voice, solemn and expectant.

Jaime forced himself to move, each step toward you heavier than the last.

When he reached your side, he saw the way your hands trembled slightly, though your expression remained cold, impassive. You looked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him.

Jaime exhaled slowly, so quietly only you could hear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured under his breath.

You stiffened.

Then, ever so slightly, you turned your head, just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye.

And when you did, Jaime saw it.

Not just your father’s gaze.

But something else.

Something broken.

Something that would never forgive him.

Jaime clenched his jaw, looking away, his heart pounding against his ribs.

The ceremony began.

And Jaime Lannister had never felt more like a villain.

The ceremony began with a weight that Jaime had never felt before.

The High Septon’s voice was solemn, echoing through the great hall of Casterly Rock, his words ancient and binding. The gathered lords and ladies of the Westerlands watched in complete silence, their eyes trained on the spectacle before them—on the Lannister heir finally taking a wife.

Jaime could feel Kevan’s gaze from his place at the high table. His uncle sat in his father’s stead, his presence a reminder that Tywin still held dominion over this marriage, even from King’s Landing. Jaime had expected some last-minute reprieve, some sign that fate would intervene, that the gods themselves would strike him down before he had to speak the words that would bind him to you forever.

But no such salvation came.

You stood beside him, silent and rigid, your fingers still clenched together in front of you, as if keeping your hands occupied was the only way to keep yourself from striking him, from clawing at the walls and running. Your face was unreadable, but your eyes—gods, your eyes—held a storm within them, a fury restrained only by the knowledge that escape was impossible.

She is looking at you like a man about to carry out her execution.

Jaime swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand taller, to keep the façade of the composed lord he was expected to be.

The High Septon gestured for you both to extend your hands, and Jaime hesitated for only a fraction of a second before reaching out. His golden hand remained at his side—useless, mocking—while his left hand extended, waiting.

You didn’t move at first.

The pause was long enough for the gathered nobility to murmur amongst themselves, for Kevan to shift in his seat, for Bronn—who was standing off to the side—to smirk faintly, as if amused by the hesitation.

Then, with slow, deliberate movements, you placed your hand in Jaime’s.

He tried not to react to how cold your fingers were.

The High Septon took a long strip of embroidered silk, wrapping it around your joined hands in slow, ceremonial movements. The fabric was heavy, embroidered with gold, with the sigils of House Lannister and House Stark entwined together in unnatural harmony.

As the binding continued, the words of the old vows filled the hall.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for all eternity…"

Jaime barely heard them.

He was too focused on the way your fingers tensed beneath his touch, on the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed back whatever words you truly wanted to say.

"From this day, you are one flesh, one heart, one soul. Cursed be he who would tear them asunder."

You flinched at that, just barely, but Jaime noticed.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell you that this didn’t have to be a prison, that he wasn’t going to chain you down, that he understood—perhaps more than you knew.

But words felt meaningless now.

And then, the High Septon turned to him.

Jaime felt a heavy weight settle on his chest.

"Do you, Ser Jaime of House Lannister, take this woman to be your lawful wife, to love, honor, and cherish her, from this day until your last?"

The words sounded like a death sentence.

Jaime looked at you, and for the first time, he saw something flicker across your face. Not anger. Not defiance.

Resignation.

You expected him to say yes.

Because that was what Lannisters did. They took what they wanted, regardless of who suffered for it.

Jaime’s throat felt tight, but he forced himself to speak.

"I do."

The words barely left his lips before the High Septon turned to you.

"And do you, Lady Y/N of House Stark, take this man to be your lawful husband, to love, honor, and cherish him, from this day until your last?"

Silence.

A tense, deafening silence.

The entire hall held its breath, every eye on you, waiting, expecting.

Jaime’s fingers tightened around yours instinctively.

He felt the smallest tremor run through you, your breathing shallow.

Then, finally, after what felt like a lifetime—

"I do."

Your voice was steady. Cold.

A perfect lie.

The High Septon smiled as if something holy had just occurred, raising his hands in blessing.

"Then, in the eyes of gods and men, I declare you husband and wife. Let it be known that the bond between House Stark and House Lannister is now sealed."

The silk was unwrapped from your hands, and Jaime let go of you, not because he wanted to, but because he knew you wanted him to.

There was only one thing left.

The final act.

"You may kiss the bride."

Jaime heard Kevan clear his throat from the high table. He knew the expectation. He knew the eyes on him.

He turned toward you, waiting, searching for some sign that this wouldn’t be an even greater mistake than it already was.

Your face was blank, your gaze unreadable.

Jaime inhaled slowly, then took a step forward.

You didn’t move.

Carefully, cautiously, he reached for your chin, tilting it up just slightly before leaning in.

The kiss was barely a brush of lips—quick, fleeting, meant only for show.

But he felt you tense the moment it happened.

When he pulled away, you were already looking past him, your body still rigid, your hands now clenched at your sides.

Jaime turned back to the hall, offering a tight smile as the room erupted into polite applause.

It was done.

You were his.

But as he glanced at you one final time, Jaime realized something.

He may have won the hand of a Stark in an attempt to save you from Roose.

But he had lost something far greater.

And perhaps, he had never truly had it to begin with.

The feast was a grand affair, as expected of the Lannisters. Gold-lined goblets overflowed with Arbor wine, the tables were weighed down with lavish dishes—roast boar with honeyed glaze, river trout stuffed with herbs, spiced duck, and bread so soft it practically melted on the tongue. Minstrels played lively tunes in the background, their melodies lost amidst the constant hum of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of goblets.

Jaime sat beside you at the high table, adorned in ceremonial red and gold, looking every bit the heir to Casterly Rock that his father had always wanted him to be. His golden hand rested on the table, unmoving, while his other clutched a goblet he had yet to drink from. He wasn’t thirsty—nor was he in the mood to celebrate.

You were seated beside him, dressed in Lannister colors, the weight of the marriage still heavy upon you. You barely touched your plate, only picking at the food with little appetite, your gaze distant despite the raucous festivities surrounding you. It was clear to anyone paying attention that you were present only in body, not in spirit.

Jaime leaned toward you slightly, his voice low so only you could hear. “You should eat.”

You barely reacted, only shifting your fork slightly on the plate. “I’m not hungry.”

Jaime sighed, setting his goblet down. “It’s going to be a long night. You’ll need your strength.”

You exhaled slowly, tilting your head slightly toward him. “For what, exactly?”

Jaime knew what you were implying, and a part of him winced. He was painfully aware of what people expected of them tonight. The bedding ceremony. The consummation. The final act that would solidify this marriage in the eyes of gods and men.

But Jaime had no intention of forcing you into anything.

“For enduring the rest of this wretched feast,” he answered instead, offering a half-smirk.

You turned your head toward him at that, your expression unreadable. “Is that all?”

Jaime studied you for a moment before leaning in closer. “If you think I intend to drag you to bed like some brute, you insult me.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, your lips pressing together as you searched his face. Jaime wasn’t sure what you were looking for, but after a long moment, your shoulders eased—just barely.

He continued, his voice softer now. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, Y/N. But I swear to you, I will not make it worse than it already is.”

You blinked, surprised by the honesty in his tone.

Before you could say anything, a drunken noble raised his goblet, his voice booming over the crowd. “To House Lannister and House Stark!”

The hall erupted in a chorus of cheers, though some were more reluctant than others. Jaime caught Kevan watching him from across the room, his uncle’s expression calm but expectant. Bronn, further down the table, smirked at him knowingly before tossing back another gulp of wine.

Jaime turned back to you. Your fingers were curled tightly around your goblet, your knuckles white, but you lifted it nonetheless, playing the part of the obedient bride.

He hated it.

Before the moment could stretch too long, he leaned toward you again, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear.

“This doesn’t have to be war, Y/N.”

You turned to him fully at that, your expression unreadable. “Then what would you have it be?”

Jaime met your gaze, his throat tight. “Something better.”

You studied him for a long moment before looking away, exhaling softly.

The feast continued, the minstrels played, the guests laughed and drank. But Jaime only had eyes for you.

He wondered in silence if there would ever be a way for you to look at him without seeing your enemy.

The night stretched long, the feast becoming more of a drunken revelry as time dragged on. The halls of Casterly Rock pulsed with the sound of laughter, goblets clashing, and the occasional bawdy song that filled the air with drunken cheer. The wine flowed freely, and the golden light of the torches flickered against the stone walls, casting long, swaying shadows.

Jaime sat stiffly beside you, his goblet untouched. He had lost count of how many men had stumbled past the high table, offering slurred congratulations and crude jests about how lucky he was to have a Stark warming his bed. He had smiled through gritted teeth, offering half-hearted smirks, but his patience was running thin.

You, however, had remained eerily silent.

Your expression had not wavered once throughout the night, your goblet lifted only when required, your voice never raised in conversation unless absolutely necessary. But Jaime could see it—the way your fingers curled tightly around the stem of your cup, the way your shoulders remained taut, the way your breath came just a fraction too slow, as if you were bracing yourself for what was coming.

And it was coming.

The moment was inevitable.

Jaime knew it the second one of the drunken lords of the Westerlands stood up from his seat, his face flushed red with wine, his tunic slightly askew. He swayed on his feet before throwing an arm around the nearest man, raising his goblet with a lopsided grin.

“Well, now, it’s been a fine evening, hasn’t it?” he bellowed, his voice carrying over the laughter and music. “A mighty fine evening for a mighty fine wedding! And what’s a wedding feast without a proper conclusion?”

The crowd chuckled in anticipation. Jaime felt your body stiffen beside him.

“Come now, Lord Jaime,” the drunken lord continued, slurring his words slightly. “Surely, you wouldn’t deny us a bedding ceremony?”

The room erupted into cheers, laughter spilling from the lips of men too drunk to care about anything other than tradition and spectacle. Some of the ladies tittered behind their goblets, their eyes gleaming with amusement. A few of the men slammed their hands against the table in encouragement, eager for the show to begin.

Jaime clenched his jaw.

And then—Kevan turned to him.

His uncle’s expression was calm, but there was a quiet expectation in his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything. The Lannisters upheld tradition. It would be seen as an insult if Jaime refused.

Jaime exhaled slowly, setting his goblet down with deliberate care. He could feel the weight of the entire room pressing in on him, waiting, watching.

And beside him, you sat still as stone.

Jaime turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you, to see the barely concealed tension in your features. Your hands were hidden beneath the table, but he could guess they were clenched into fists. Your breath was slow, measured, controlled.

He knew what you were waiting for.

You were waiting for him to say yes.

You were waiting for him to be like every other Lannister before him—to drag you from this hall, to let these men tear you from your clothes, to parade you like a trophy into a bed you did not want.

And gods, Jaime hated that you thought him capable of that.

The room was still waiting.

Kevan was still waiting.

Jaime let out a slow breath, then pushed his chair back slightly, rising to his feet.

The crowd leaned in.

He lifted his goblet.

“To tradition,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying just enough authority to silence the room.

A few men cheered, raising their goblets in agreement.

Jaime waited for them to quiet.

Then he turned to face them fully, his expression unreadable.

“But as my lady wife has endured much already, I think we can all agree that she need not endure more tonight.”

The laughter faltered. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, confused and surprised. The drunken lord who had started the jest blinked at him, his wine-addled mind struggling to process the words.

Kevan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Jaime smirked faintly. “You are all welcome to drink until your bellies burst and your legs give out, but the bedding is over.”

Silence.

A long, stretching silence.

Then—Bronn laughed.

A loud, sharp, amused laugh.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the sellsword drawled, leaning back in his seat. “Jaime Lannister refusing a bedding ceremony. I never thought I’d see the day.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, though most were uncertain. Kevan sighed through his nose but said nothing.

Jaime turned back to you, finding you watching him carefully, searching his face.

“Shall we?” he murmured, extending his hand.

You hesitated for only a second before nodding, rising from your seat without a word.

The crowd parted as Jaime led you from the hall, the weight of a hundred eyes on his back. But he didn’t care.

Because for the first time that night, he saw something flicker across your face.

Not gratitude. Not warmth.

But something close.

And it was enough.

The corridors of Casterly Rock were quiet as Jaime led you through them, away from the feast, away from the prying eyes of the nobility. The warmth and noise of the great hall faded behind you, replaced by the distant crash of waves against the cliffs and the flickering of torches that cast elongated shadows on the cold stone walls.

Your hand was still in his, though neither of you spoke of it.

Jaime could feel the rigid set of your shoulders, the way your steps were measured and purposeful, as if you were trying to remind yourself you still had control over something. He wanted to say something to ease it, to reassure you, but words felt clumsy, inadequate.

When they reached the heavy doors of the chambers that had been prepared for them, Jaime hesitated before pushing them open.

Inside, the room was exactly as expected—lavish, warm, filled with rich reds and golds, the colors of his house drowning everything. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting an orange glow over the thick furs draped over the grand bed, over the fine silks that adorned the room. It was meant to be inviting, meant to be the place where a newly wedded couple would consummate their marriage.

Jaime hated the sight of it.

Because he knew what you saw—a prison dressed in gold.

You stood in the doorway, unmoving. He could feel the way your breath slowed, controlled, as if bracing for something inevitable.

Jaime exhaled softly, then turned to face you. “You can breathe now, you know.”

You glanced at him sharply.

He smirked, tilting his head. “I imagine you’ve been holding it in all night.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you said nothing. Instead, you stepped inside slowly, surveying the room like a wolf scanning unfamiliar terrain, your posture tense.

Jaime closed the door behind you both, then turned toward you fully. “You’re safe,” he said simply.

You scoffed. “Safe,” you repeated, voice hollow. “That’s an interesting word for this.”

Jaime sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer. “I meant what I said,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Nothing will happen tonight unless you wish it.”

You turned to face him at that, studying him carefully, as if trying to find the lie in his words. “And tomorrow?”

Jaime hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “Tomorrow, and every night after, that remains the same.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his tone. For a moment, the firelight cast something softer across your face, something unsure.

Jaime took another step closer, reaching for your hand once more, his touch light, careful. “I know you still hate me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over the back of your knuckles. “I don’t expect that to change overnight.”

Your fingers twitched in his hold. “Then why are you doing this?”

Jaime studied you, his throat tightening. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t know, that there was something about you that unmade him, that had made him question everything. He wanted to tell you that the thought of you crying in his arms the night before still haunted him. That he hated seeing you afraid. That you were different from everything he had ever known.

But instead, he smirked faintly, tilting his head. “Because it’s the one thing I can do for you.”

You exhaled, looking away for a moment before finally, finally, allowing yourself to relax. Just a fraction.

Jaime stepped even closer now, his free hand rising slowly, hesitating before brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His touch was warm, his fingers lingering just slightly as he tucked the strand behind your ear.

You let him.

For the second time since you had been brought to Casterly Rock, you didn’t recoil from him.

Jaime swallowed, his gaze flickering between your eyes, your lips, the curve of your jawline. He had kissed you today, at the ceremony, but that had been for show. This… this was different. The pull from the night before.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice lower now, softer.

You inhaled, your breath ghosting against his lips, but you didn’t pull away.

His left hand held onto yours as if grounding himself. “Say the word,” he whispered.

You hesitated. Just for a moment. Then—

“Goodnight, Jaime,” you whispered instead.

Jaime let out a slow breath, his lips curving into something wry. “Goodnight, wife.”

Then, with great effort, he let you go.

He turned toward the fire, grabbing the nearest chair and settling into it without another word. You watched him for a moment longer before moving toward the bed, slipping beneath the furs with careful movements.

Jaime didn’t turn to look, but he listened.

Listened to your breath slow, listened to the shift of fabric as you settled.

And as he sat there, staring into the flames, he realized something.

Jaime Lannister did not long for battle anymore.

He longed for something much more dangerous.

And it was sleeping only a few feet away from him.

The morning light seeped through the heavy crimson drapes of Casterly Rock, casting an amber hue over the grand chambers. The fire in the hearth had burned low, leaving only embers glowing faintly beneath the blackened logs. The scent of wax and cold stone lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest traces of perfumed oils used the night before.

Jaime stirred first, blinking against the soft morning light, his body stiff from having spent the night in the chair. His muscles ached slightly, a dull reminder that he was not as young as he once was, nor as invincible. He let out a quiet exhale, rubbing his face before turning his head toward the bed.

You were still asleep.

Curled beneath the thick furs, your form was relaxed, your breathing even. A few strands of hair had fallen across your face, and for the first time since he had met you, there was no tension in your features, no guarded expression, no silent fury burning beneath the surface.

Jaime watched you for a moment longer before forcing himself to look away.

A knock at the chamber doors shattered the quiet.

Jaime straightened as the heavy doors creaked open, and a line of Lannister servants entered, their movements swift and efficient. They carried trays of breakfast—warm bread, honeyed fruits, and roasted meats, along with fresh jugs of milk and wine. Others carried linens, their purpose clear.

Your eyes fluttered open at the noise, blinking against the morning light before focusing on the movement around the room. Jaime watched as you slowly sat up, your expression shifting as you took in the sight of the servants preparing the room, the way some moved toward the bed with practiced ease.

The bed linens.

Jaime saw it before you did—the way one of the older chambermaids stepped forward, ready to strip the furs and assess the sheets beneath.

His jaw tightened.

There was an expectation here. A tradition as old as Westeros itself.

The bedding had to be checked.

Had to be proven.

Jaime felt your body stiffen beneath the covers as you realized it, too.

The chambermaid reached for the sheets—then hesitated.

Because the linens were clean.

Jaime could see the pause in the servants' movements, the quick, darting glances between them. It was subtle, but it was there.

There was no proof of consummation.

No blood to stain the white linen.

The chambermaid, to her credit, said nothing. She only folded the sheets neatly, placing them aside without reaction. The other servants followed her lead, their expressions carefully neutral.

But the silence in the room had shifted.

Jaime glanced toward you, noting the rigid way you sat, the way your fingers curled into the furs, your jaw tight. He exhaled slowly before turning back to the servants.

"That will be all," he said smoothly, his voice calm but firm.

The chambermaid bowed her head slightly before gesturing for the others to finish their tasks quickly.

Jaime stood, stretching slightly before crossing the room. He poured himself a goblet of wine, more out of habit than need, before glancing over his shoulder at you.

"You should eat," he murmured. "It’s going to be another long day."

You didn’t move at first, still staring at the clean linens, still processing the unspoken weight of it.

Then, finally, you looked up at him. Your expression was unreadable, but there was something in your eyes—something uncertain.

Jaime met your gaze, tilting his head slightly. "Did you expect me to force you?"

You swallowed, glancing away. "I didn’t know what to expect."

Jaime sighed, setting his goblet down. "I told you last night, didn’t I?" His voice was quiet, lacking its usual sharp edge. "Nothing will happen unless you want it to."

You exhaled slowly, nodding just slightly before shifting to the edge of the bed, reaching for the plate of bread and fruit. Jaime watched as you took a slow bite, your hands steady, but your shoulders still stiff.

He smirked faintly. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat in it.

The animosity in the room softened, just a fraction.

Jaime took his goblet again, leaning against the table as he sipped.

The servants moved efficiently, pretending not to notice the silence between you, pretending not to acknowledge what they had noticed.

And Jaime, for once, was grateful for the discretion.

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moonlight-joy · 5 months ago

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The Heir’s Legacy

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: In a momentous feast at the Red Keep, Jacaerys Velaryon is unexpectedly named heir to the Iron Throne, setting in motion a tidal wave of political intrigue, family alliances, and looming threats, as you and Rhaenyra pledge to stand by him in the face of the burdens and dangers ahead.

Pairing: Reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was alight with celebration. It was a feast in your honor, a joyous occasion to announce the long-awaited news that you and Jacaerys Velaryon were expecting your first child. Musicians played lively tunes, lords and ladies raised goblets in congratulations, and your husband’s smile never faltered as he held your hand tightly, his thumb brushing reassuring circles against your skin.

“You are glowing,” Jacaerys murmured, his voice low and full of warmth as he leaned toward you. The soft candlelight caught in his dark hair, the silver undertones of his Velaryon lineage shimmering like starlight. His brown eyes held a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “I think they’ve never seen you look more radiant.”

“And you,” you replied softly, your voice carrying just enough teasing to bring out his boyish grin, “look as though you’ve never been happier.”

“I haven’t,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to your still-flat stomach with a reverence that made your cheeks flush. “This is our legacy, love. You’ve made me the happiest man in the realm.”

The two of you shared a quiet moment, your fingers intertwined beneath the table. Despite the noise of the hall, it felt as though the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

But the evening was far from over.

---

The sound of a goblet striking the table rang out like a bell, silencing the hall. All eyes turned toward the head of the table where King Viserys sat, his face alight with a rare energy. His silver hair shone under the golden glow of the chandeliers, and though the years had not been kind to him, tonight he seemed revitalized, his expression clear and determined.

“My lords and ladies,” Viserys began, his voice strong despite his frailty. “We gather tonight to celebrate the most joyous of news—my grandson Jacaerys Velaryon and his wife are to bring forth a child. A child of pure Targaryen blood, destined to carry on the legacy of our house.”

A murmur of approval swept through the hall, but Viserys raised a hand, commanding silence once more.

“This is a time of great change,” he continued, his tone taking on a weight that made your stomach twist with anticipation. Jacaerys straightened beside you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “And it is only fitting that we look to the future. The realm deserves a clear line of succession, one that reflects the strength and unity of our house.”

The murmurs grew louder now, a ripple of confusion and intrigue passing through the gathered nobility. You glanced at Jacaerys, whose brows furrowed in silent question, but neither of you could have predicted what came next.

“It is with great pride,” Viserys declared, his voice rising, “that I name Jacaerys Velaryon as my heir to the Iron Throne.”

The hall erupted. Gasps and murmurs of shock gave way to applause, though not all present clapped with the same enthusiasm. The announcement was as unexpected as it was monumental, a bold declaration that shifted the balance of power in an instant.

You looked at Jacaerys, whose expression was a mixture of disbelief and resolve. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his hand slipping from yours as he stepped forward to face his grandsire.

“Your Grace,” Jacaerys said, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. “I am honored beyond measure by your trust. I swear to uphold the legacy of House Targaryen with the strength of my ancestors and the wisdom of your reign.”

Viserys smiled, his pride evident as he gestured for Jacaerys to sit. But as your husband returned to his seat, his gaze met yours, and in that moment, you saw the weight of what had just been placed upon him.

---

The rest of the feast passed in a blur. While many came to offer their congratulations, others were less subtle in their skepticism. Alicent Hightower’s expression had been unreadable, though her fingers tapped against her goblet in what you could only interpret as disapproval. Ser Otto stood close to her, his calculating gaze flicking between you, Jacaerys, and the king. It was clear the announcement had caught them off guard.

---

The feast had ended, but the tension lingered long after the last goblet was drained and the final guest departed. The news of Jacaerys' ascension to heir had rippled through the Red Keep like wildfire, leaving whispers of awe and dissent in its wake. As you and Jacaerys returned to your chambers, a soft knock at the door interrupted the fragile silence.

Jacaerys opened it to find his mother, Rhaenyra, standing in the dimly lit corridor. Her silver hair was unbound, flowing over her shoulders, and her violet eyes shimmered with a mix of pride and concern. She stepped inside without a word, her gaze falling on you briefly before focusing entirely on her son.

“Mother,” Jacaerys said, surprised. “I did not expect you tonight.”

“How could I not come?” Rhaenyra replied softly, her voice carrying both warmth and steel. “My son has just been named heir to the Iron Throne. I would have words with you before the weight of the crown settles too heavily on your shoulders.”

You stepped back, sensing the significance of the moment, but Rhaenyra reached out to clasp your hand briefly. “Stay,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “You are as much a part of this as he is. Your child will carry this legacy forward.”

Her words sent a shiver through you, the weight of the truth settling over your heart. You nodded and sat down near the hearth, allowing mother and son to speak freely while you remained a quiet witness.

---

Rhaenyra turned to Jacaerys, her expression softening as she placed a hand on his cheek. “You have always carried yourself with honor, Jace. Even as a boy, I knew you were destined for greatness. But tonight…” Her voice faltered for a moment, and she let out a breath. “Tonight, you stepped into the shoes of kings. And I am proud of you.”

Jacaerys’ brow furrowed, his eyes searching hers. “But?” he asked, sensing the unspoken caution in her tone.

Rhaenyra smiled faintly, her hand falling to her side. “But I know the cost of being named heir,” she admitted. “I know the burdens it brings. The alliances that will shift. The enemies that will rise. And now, with you carrying this weight… I cannot help but fear for you.”

“Mother,” Jacaerys said, his voice steady, though his brow creased with worry, “you have borne this weight yourself. You know what it means to fight for what is ours. I will not falter, not when I have you, my wife, and our child to guide me.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flicked to you, her expression softening further. “And you,” she said, addressing you directly now, “you will be his greatest strength. Never let the world convince you otherwise. You are as much a dragon as any of us.”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “I will stand by him always, Princess.”

“Good,” Rhaenyra said, turning back to Jacaerys. “But remember, my son, this moment will not sit well with everyone. Alicent and her father will see this as a challenge to their influence. And Aegon…” Her lips tightened. “He will not relinquish what he believes is his right.”

Jacaerys’ jaw clenched, the mention of his uncle stirring a flicker of anger in his eyes. “Let Aegon believe what he will,” he said. “I will not shy away from what is mine. If he challenges me, I will remind him that dragons answer only to fire and blood.”

Rhaenyra studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she stepped closer and cupped his face in her hands. “You are ready,” she said quietly. “But do not let ambition blind you to what matters most. The throne is a heavy burden, Jace, but it is nothing without love, without family. Do not forget that.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice softening. “And I will make you proud, Mother.”

“You already have,” she whispered, pulling him into a brief but fierce embrace.

---

After Rhaenyra left, the room felt quieter, though the weight of her words lingered in the air. Jacaerys sat beside you, his shoulders slightly hunched, his expression thoughtful. You placed a hand on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“She’s right, you know,” you said gently. “This won’t be easy. But we’ll face it together.”

Jacaerys turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and affection. “I couldn’t do this without you,” he said. “You and our child… you are my reason for everything. Whatever comes, we will rise above it.”

You smiled, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. Together, you gazed into the fire, its flames dancing like the dragons whose legacy you would now carry forward.

Please support my work with like and comment

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #hotd #asoiaf fanfic #hotd fanfic

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catholics-world · 2 months ago

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Check out this post… "The Chair of Saint Peter the Apostle: A Symbol of Unity and Authority".

http://marianne346.blogspot.com/2025/02/the-chair-of-saint-peter-apostle-symbol.html

#Apostolic Succession #Biblical Foundation #Catholic Faith #Catholic Tradition #Chair of Saint Peter #Christian Celebration #Church Unity #Faith and Tradition #Feast of Saint Peter #February 22 Feast #Holy See #Keys of the Kingdom #Papacy #Papal Authority #Pope #Religious Symbolism #Saint Peter the Apostle #St. Peter’s Basilica #Vatican City

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thecultoflexithewulf · 1 year ago

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Kwanzaa:

Kwanzaa, an annual holiday celebrated primarily in the United States from December 26 to January 1, emphasizes the importance of pan-African family and social values. It was devised in 1966 by Maulana Karenga, Inspired by Africa’s harvest celebrations, he decided to develop a nonreligious holiday that would stress the importance of family and community while giving African Americans an opportunity to explore their African identities. Kwanzaa arose from the black nationalist movement of the 1960s and was created to help African Americans reconnect with their African cultural and historical heritage. The holiday honors African American people, their struggles in the United States, their heritage, and their culture. Kwanzaa's practices and symbolism are deeply rooted in African traditions and emphasize community, family, and cultural pride. It's a time for reflection, celebration, and the nurturing of cultural identity within the African American community.

Kwanzaa is a blend of various African cultures, reflecting the experience of many African Americans who cannot trace their exact origins; thus, it is not specific to any one African culture or region. The inclusiveness of Kwanzaa allows for a broader celebration of African heritage and identity.

Karenga created Kwanzaa during the aftermath of the Watts riots as a non-Christian, specifically African-American, holiday. His goal was to give black people an alternative to Christmas and an opportunity to celebrate themselves and their history, rather than imitating the practices of the dominant society. The name Kwanzaa derives from the Swahili phrase "matunda ya kwanza," meaning "first fruits," and is based on African harvest festival traditions from various parts of West and Southeast Africa. The holiday was first celebrated in 1966.

Each day of Kwanzaa is dedicated to one of the seven principles (Nguzo Saba), which are central values of African culture that contribute to building and reinforcing community among African Americans. These principles include Umoja (Unity), Kujichagulia (Self-Determination), Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility), Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics), Nia (Purpose), Kuumba (Creativity), and Imani (Faith). Each family celebrates Kwanzaa in its own way, but Celebrations often include songs, dances, African drums, storytelling, poetry readings, and a large traditional meal. The holiday concludes with a communal feast called Karamu, usually held on the sixth day.

Kwanzaa is more than just a celebration; it's a spiritual journey to heal, explore, and learn from African heritage. The holiday emphasizes the importance of community and the role of children, who are considered seed bearers of cultural values and practices for the next generation. Kwanzaa is not just a holiday; it's a period of introspection and celebration of African-American identity and culture, allowing for a deeper understanding and appreciation of ancestral roots. This celebration is a testament to the resilience and enduring spirit of the African-American community.

"Kwanzaa," Encyclopaedia Britannica, last modified December 23, 2023, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Kwanzaa.

"Kwanzaa - Meaning, Candles & Principles," HISTORY, accessed December 25, 2023, https://www.history.com/topics/holidays/kwanzaa-history.

"Kwanzaa," Wikipedia, last modified December 25, 2023, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kwanzaa.

"Kwanzaa," National Museum of African American History and Culture, accessed December 25, 2023, https://nmaahc.si.edu/explore/stories/kwanzaa.

"The First Kwanzaa," HISTORY.com, accessed December 25, 2023, https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/the-first-kwanzaa.

My Daily Kwanzaa, blog, accessed December 25, 2023, https://mydailykwanzaa.wordpress.com.

Maulana Karenga, Kwanzaa: A Celebration of Family, Community and Culture (Los Angeles, CA: University of Sankore Press, 1998), ISBN 0-943412-21-8.

"Kente Cloth," African Journey, Project Exploration, accessed December 25, 2023, https://projectexploration.org.

Expert Village, "Kwanzaa Traditions & Customs: Kwanzaa Symbols," YouTube video, accessed December 25, 2023, [Link to the specific YouTube video]. (Note: The exact URL for the YouTube video is needed for a complete citation).

"Official Kwanzaa Website," accessed December 25, 2023, https://www.officialkwanzaawebsite.org/index.html.

Michelle, Lavanda. "Let's Talk Kwanzaa: Unwrapping the Good Vibes." Lavanda Michelle, December 13, 2023. https://lavandamichelle.com/2023/12/13/lets-talk-kwanzaa-unwrapping-the-good-vibes/.

#kwanzaa #black community #black culture #pan africanism #black history #happy holidays

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fuckyeahmarxismleninism · 6 days ago

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Cuban President Calls to Show the Strength of Unity on May Day

Havana, April 28 (ACN) Just two days ahead of celebrations for International Workers Day, Cuban President Miguel Diaz-Canel called on the people to march and show the strength of unity during that workers’ historic event.

In a message on X, Diaz-Canel wrote that the massive march will be inspired on the 25th anniversary of a speech given by Fidel Castro in which he voiced the concept of Revolution.

In that occasion, Fidel called us to act “aware of the current historic moment” wrote Diaz-Canel and urged the people to follow the Revolution concept lines and march “for our independence and our dreams of justice.”

The Cuban Workers’ Confederation and its unions called a demonstration to mark International Workers’ Day in a big feast which will turn into a new and strong message that “we Cubans keep here firm, standing and holding on the fight,” the call reads.

“We trust in the capacity of the people to guarantee the largest participation in the marches at plazas and squares in communities, municipalities and provinces throughout the island,” recently said the general secretary of the Confederation Ulises Guilarte de Nacimiento.

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 4 months ago

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The Emperor’s Gaze Part 3

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Maid! Empress!reader

Warnings : Fluff, Spice, Caracalla STILL being an ass, mentions of fighting

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy! I apologize if this makes no sense, I was in a writing mood soooooo here we are :)

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist Previous

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

One evening, as you walked through the palace gardens hand in hand, Geta paused, turning to you with a soft smile.

“Do you remember what I said about building a future together?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion.

He reached into his tunic, pulling out a small box. “I think it’s time we made that promise official.”

Opening the box, he revealed a simple yet beautiful ring. “Will you marry me?”

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded. “Yes,” you said, your voice trembling with joy.

He slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing your promise with a kiss.

——

The palace buzzed with anticipation in the weeks leading up to the wedding. The announcement had sent shockwaves through the empire, cementing your position as Geta’s chosen empress. The court scrambled to prepare for a celebration of unparalleled grandeur, though many whispered of Caracalla’s growing displeasure.

Despite the chaos surrounding the event, Geta made time for you, ensuring that you were not overwhelmed by the weight of your new role.

“You’re the reason for all this,” he said one evening, standing beside you as you gazed out over the city from the palace balcony. “This wedding is as much a declaration of my love for you as it is a message to the court.”

“And what message is that?” you asked softly, leaning into his side.

“That I will let nothing and no one come between us,” he replied, his tone resolute.

---

The day dawned clear and bright, the sun casting a golden glow over the bustling streets of Rome. Crowds gathered outside the palace, cheering as the procession began. You were dressed in a gown of the finest silk, its deep crimson hue symbolizing strength and unity. Intricate gold embroidery adorned the fabric, shimmering with every movement.

As you were escorted to the grand hall, your heart raced with a mixture of excitement and nerves. The vast chamber was filled with the empire’s elite, their eyes turning to you as you entered.

And then you saw him.

Geta stood at the altar, resplendent in his imperial robes. His gaze locked onto yours the moment you appeared, his expression softening into something that made your breath hitch. In that instant, the crowd, the whispers, the grandeur of the occasion—all of it faded away.

When you reached him, he took your hands in his, his touch steadying you. “You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“And you look like an emperor,” you replied, your lips curving into a small smile.

The ceremony was steeped in tradition, each vow and gesture steeped in the weight of history. But as you stood before the gods and the empire, it felt deeply personal—a bond forged not by duty, but by love.

“I vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to stand by your side, no matter the storms that come our way,” Geta said, his voice steady and clear.

Tears welled in your eyes as you echoed his words, your voice trembling with emotion. “And I vow to support you, to love you, and to face whatever comes, as long as I’m by your side.”

When the final blessing was given, and the high priest declared you husband and wife, Geta didn’t wait for permission. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, a tender yet possessive gesture that left no doubt of his devotion.

The hall erupted in cheers, the sound echoing through the palace as Geta led you to the grand feast prepared in your honor.

---

The feast was a dazzling affair, with tables laden with the finest foods and wines. Musicians played jubilant tunes, and dancers performed to entertain the crowd. Yet despite the grandeur, Geta’s attention rarely wavered from you.

He leaned close, his voice low as he spoke. “Are you enjoying yourself, my empress?”

“Very much,” you replied, though your gaze flickered to where Caracalla sat at the far end of the table, his expression unreadable.

Geta followed your gaze, his jaw tightening. “Ignore him,” he murmured. “Tonight is ours.”

You nodded, turning your focus back to him. “Then tell me, my emperor, what does the future hold for us?”

His eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Whatever we want it to. Together.”

As the night wore on, Geta led you to the center of the hall for the first dance. The crowd watched in awe as the two of you moved in perfect harmony, your connection palpable. It was a moment of unity, a declaration that, no matter the challenges, you were unstoppable as long as you were together.

---

When the feast finally ended and the palace quieted, Geta led you to your shared quarters. The room had been transformed for the occasion, with petals scattered across the floor and candles casting a soft, golden glow.

He turned to you, his expression tender as he cupped your face in his hands. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered.

You smiled, your hands resting over his. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As he kissed you, the world faded away once more, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure, unshakable love.

After the night of the feast, Geta ordered the preparation of shared quarters for the two of you. It was an unprecedented move, defying the expectations of the court and solidifying your place by his side—not as a mere companion, but as an empress.

The quarters were exquisite, blending grandeur with intimacy. The sprawling room was adorned with gilded columns, rich tapestries, and intricate mosaics. A grand bed sat at the center, its canopy draped in silk, surrounded by low tables bearing fine oils, perfumes, and flowers. Yet amidst the luxury, the space felt warm, like a sanctuary far removed from the palace's scheming halls.

When you first stepped inside, your breath hitched. “Geta… this is too much.”

He stood behind you, hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “It’s yours. Ours. Do you like it?”

You turned to face him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his eyes. He wasn’t asking as an emperor seeking approval but as a man desperate to give you the world.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Thank you.”

Geta smiled, leaning into your touch. “You deserve this and so much more.”

---

Life in your shared quarters brought a sense of closeness that you hadn’t realized was missing. You woke each morning to the sight of Geta sprawled beside you, his dark hair mussed and his features softened in sleep.

Sometimes, he’d wake before you, his gaze already on you when your eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, my empress,” he’d murmur, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Evenings were spent in quiet companionship. He would read scrolls or dictate letters while you worked on embroidery or simply watched the fire crackle in the hearth. There was an ease to these moments, a sense of belonging that made the rest of the world fade away.

One night, as you lounged together on the plush divan near the fire, Geta pulled you closer, his arm draped around your shoulders.

“Do you ever think about how far you’ve come?” he asked, his voice soft.

You glanced at him, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “When I first saw you, you were just a maid—quiet, unassuming, hiding in the shadows. And now… look at you. You command the attention of everyone in the court. You’ve stolen the heart of an emperor.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips. “I don’t think the court admires me as much as you do.”

“They don’t need to,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours. “I admire you enough for all of them.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into him, your head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a comforting reminder that, despite the challenges, you weren’t alone.

---

One particularly stormy night, you woke to find Geta sitting by the window, the faint glow of lightning illuminating his profile. He looked deep in thought, his shoulders tense.

Slipping from the bed, you padded over to him, your bare feet silent against the cool marble floor. “Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly.

He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Too many thoughts.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding him. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Caracalla. The court. The future. I worry about what this means for you… for us.”

“Geta,” you said gently, kneeling beside him so you could look him in the eyes. “I chose this. I chose you. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

He reached for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “You’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for, you know that?”

“I have to be,” you replied with a soft smile. “For you.”

His expression softened, and he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for,” you whispered, your hand resting over his heart.

In that quiet moment, as the storm raged outside, it felt as though nothing could touch you.

——

Married life with Geta was both everything you had dreamed of and more challenging than you could have imagined. The love you shared became your sanctuary in the chaos of palace life, but shadows loomed in the form of Caracalla.

Despite Geta’s unwavering affection, Caracalla’s hostility grew more apparent with each passing day. He rarely spoke to you directly, but his disdain was clear in the curt nods and cutting remarks he reserved for his brother during council meetings.

Geta, however, remained undeterred. “He’s always been this way,” he assured you one evening as the two of you shared a quiet dinner in your quarters. “Jealousy is his constant companion.”

“Does it not worry you?” you asked, concern etched across your face.

Geta took your hand in his, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “Not as long as I have you by my side.”

---

The tension finally boiled over during a council meeting a few weeks later. You had joined Geta at his request, seated at his right hand as he discussed plans to expand the empire's infrastructure.

Caracalla, seated at the opposite end of the table, interrupted with a scoff. “Perhaps instead of roads, we should invest in ensuring the loyalty of those within these walls. It would be a shame if weakness led to betrayal.”

The veiled threat sent a chill through the room. Geta’s expression darkened, his hand tightening into a fist.

“If you have something to say, brother,” he said coldly, “say it plainly.”

Caracalla’s lips curved into a smirk. “Only that some alliances are built on shifting sands. Time will tell if yours is strong enough to withstand the weight of the crown.”

Geta rose from his seat, his voice sharp as steel. “Enough. Your constant undermining will no longer be tolerated. I am emperor, and I will not be challenged—not by you, nor anyone else.”

The tension was palpable as Caracalla stood as well, his gaze fixed on his brother. “We shall see, brother,” he said, his tone deceptively calm before turning and leaving the room.

---

That night, Geta seemed restless. He paced the length of your shared quarters, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Talk to me,” you urged, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

He stopped, looking at you with a mixture of frustration and affection. “He’s always been this way. Always trying to take what’s mine. But this… this is different. I don’t trust him, and I don’t know what he’s planning.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone in this.”

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift. “How did I get so lucky to have you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

“It’s not luck,” you replied with a soft smile. “It’s fate.”

Geta tilted your chin up, his gaze searching yours. “I’ll protect you, no matter what. You are my everything.”

He kissed you then, slow and deliberate, as if pouring every unspoken promise into the act. The tension melted away as you lost yourselves in each other, the world beyond the walls of your quarters momentarily forgotten.

---

But the peace didn’t last. Whispers of Caracalla’s schemes reached your ears in the days that followed. Servants spoke in hushed tones of secret meetings and alliances being forged in the shadows.

One evening, as you prepared for bed, Geta entered the room, his expression grim. “We need to be cautious,” he said, his voice low. “Caracalla is plotting something, and I won’t let him put you in danger.”

You nodded, your heart heavy with unease. “What can we do?”

“For now, we wait. But I won’t let him win. Not this time.”

As you lay together that night, the weight of the empire and its struggles seemed to press down on both of you. Yet in the quiet moments, as Geta’s hand found yours and his steady breathing lulled you to sleep, you held onto the hope that love would be enough to weather the storm.

---

**The Emperor’s Gaze** *(Part Eleven)*

The days following Geta’s warning were marked by mounting tension. Despite the façade of normalcy, you could feel the undercurrents of something dark brewing beneath the surface. Servants whispered in corners, courtiers exchanged wary glances, and even the palace guards seemed more alert.

Geta, ever the watchful emperor, began meeting with his most trusted advisors in secret, determined to uncover the full extent of Caracalla’s schemes. You supported him where you could, offering counsel and encouragement, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was drawing closer.

---

It came to a head one evening during a routine council meeting. You stood by Geta’s side, your presence a silent but powerful statement of your role in his life and rule.

Caracalla entered late, as was his habit, but this time his arrival was different. He strode into the chamber with an air of defiance, his gaze locking onto Geta with unmasked contempt.

“Brother,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “I’ve come to offer my assistance in matters of governance. Surely even you must admit that two heads are better than one.”

Geta’s jaw tightened, but he maintained his composure. “If you have something of value to contribute, speak now. Otherwise, spare us your theatrics.”

Caracalla’s smirk widened. “Oh, I have plenty to contribute. Like the fact that your so-called advisors are more loyal to coin than crown. Or that whispers of rebellion are growing louder outside these walls.”

A murmur rippled through the council. Geta’s gaze remained fixed on his brother. “If you have evidence, present it. If not, keep your poison to yourself.”

Caracalla stepped closer, his tone turning cold. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? But power is fleeting, brother. And when it crumbles, it will take her with it.”

At his pointed glance toward you, Geta rose from his seat, his voice sharp and commanding. “Enough! If you threaten her again, I will not hesitate to act. You may be my brother, but even you are not above the law.”

The tension in the room was palpable as the two men stared each other down, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Finally, Caracalla sneered and turned on his heel, leaving the chamber without another word.

---

That night, you found Geta in the palace gardens, his expression shadowed as he paced among the moonlit flowers.

“Geta,” you called softly, drawing his attention.

He turned to you, his face softening as you approached. “I didn’t mean for you to see that,” he admitted. “But I won’t let him threaten you.”

You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You don’t have to face him alone. We’re in this together, remember?”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured.

“And you’re too stubborn for your own good,” you replied with a small smile. “But I love you all the same.”

His lips met yours in a kiss that spoke of both desperation and devotion. The weight of the empire, the schemes of his brother, all seemed to fade as you lost yourselves in each other.

When you finally pulled away, Geta rested his forehead against yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, no matter the cost.”

“And I’ll stand by you, no matter the cost,” you replied firmly.

---

In the days that followed, you and Geta worked together to secure your position. Trusted allies were placed in key roles, and plans were made to counter any potential rebellion.

One evening, as you reviewed documents in your quarters, Geta joined you, a rare smile on his lips.

“What is it?” you asked, setting aside the scroll in your hands.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, taking a seat beside you. “It’s time we remind the empire why we’re stronger together. A tour of the provinces, perhaps. Let the people see their emperor and empress united.”

Your eyes lit up at the idea. “It’s a bold move. But it could work.”

He took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We’ll face whatever comes, together. Always.”

The warmth in his gaze filled you with renewed determination. No matter the challenges ahead, you knew that your love for each other would be your greatest strength.

---

The days following Geta’s declaration of a provincial tour were a whirlwind of preparation. Courtiers and advisors worked tirelessly to organize the emperor’s journey, while you assisted in coordinating appearances and speeches. The empire was eager to see its ruling couple in action, but the shadow of Caracalla’s enmity loomed large.

Despite the outward display of unity and progress, whispers of Caracalla’s schemes grew louder. His late-night meetings and clandestine visitors hinted at something more sinister than political rivalry.

---

Two nights before the tour was set to begin, you awoke to the sound of raised voices echoing through the halls. Geta was gone from your side, and you hurriedly wrapped a cloak around yourself, following the noise.

You found him in the council chamber, his expression thunderous as he faced Caracalla. The room was empty save for a few guards who looked uneasy, unsure whether to intervene.

“How dare you?” Geta’s voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls. “Conspiring with the Praetorians? Plotting against your own blood?”

Caracalla’s smirk was infuriatingly calm. “You accuse me so easily, brother, yet where is your proof? I merely spoke with them, as any leader should. Or are you so paranoid that you see betrayal in every shadow?”

Geta took a step forward, his fists clenched. “You’ve overstepped for the last time. This isn’t just about me. You’re endangering her.”

Caracalla’s gaze shifted to you as you stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing. “Ah, the empress herself. How charming of you to join us. Tell me, do you enjoy playing queen while the real power lies elsewhere?”

“Enough!” Geta roared, positioning himself protectively in front of you. “Guards, escort him to his quarters. He is not to leave without my permission.”

The guards hesitated, glancing at each other before moving to obey. Caracalla didn’t resist, but his parting words sent a chill down your spine. “You can’t protect her forever, brother. Some things are inevitable.”

---

The confrontation left you shaken, and Geta wasted no time in reinforcing your security. Additional guards were stationed outside your quarters, and trusted allies were assigned to monitor Caracalla’s movements.

That night, as you sat together in your chambers, the weight of the situation pressed heavily on both of you.

“You shouldn’t have confronted him like that,” you said softly, your hand resting on his. “It only makes him more dangerous.”

“He’s already dangerous,” Geta replied, his tone firm. “But I won’t let him harm you. He’ll have to go through me first.”

You looked at him, your heart aching at the burden he carried. “We’ll face him together,” you said, your voice steady. “Whatever happens, I’m with you.”

His gaze softened, and he pulled you into his arms. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“And I don’t deserve the love of an emperor,” you replied with a small smile. “But here we are.”

---

Despite the tension, the provincial tour began as planned. Crowds gathered in every city to catch a glimpse of their emperor and empress, cheering as you passed through the streets. The sight of Geta addressing the people with confidence and charisma filled you with pride, and you marveled at his ability to inspire hope despite the challenges he faced.

At night, in the privacy of your quarters, the two of you found solace in each other’s arms. The love you shared became a beacon of strength, a reminder of what you were fighting for.

But even as you celebrated small victories, the shadow of Caracalla remained. Reports of unrest in the capital reached you, and you knew that your brother-in-law’s schemes were far from over.

---

When the tour concluded and you returned to Rome, the tension was palpable. Geta’s advisors warned him of a potential coup, but he refused to live in fear.

One evening, as you prepared for bed, a messenger arrived with an urgent summons for Geta. He kissed your forehead before leaving, promising to return soon.

Hours passed, and unease settled in your chest. When he didn’t return, you decided to seek him out, ignoring the protests of the guards.

You found him in the council chamber once more, facing Caracalla and a group of armed Praetorians. The sight made your blood run cold.

“Stay back!” Geta shouted as you entered the room, his sword drawn.

Caracalla’s smirk was as infuriating as ever. “Ah, the empress graces us with her presence. How fitting for you to witness the end of this charade.”

“Enough of this, Caracalla!” you said, stepping forward despite Geta’s warning. “What do you hope to gain by turning against your own brother?”

Caracalla’s gaze darkened. “Power. Something neither of you truly understands.”

The tension snapped like a bowstring, and the room erupted into chaos. Geta fought valiantly, his sword flashing in the dim light as he defended both himself and you.

---

In the end, loyalty won the day. Guards loyal to Geta arrived just in time, forcing Caracalla and his men to retreat.

As you stood amidst the wreckage of the council chamber, Geta pulled you into his arms, his grip fierce. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, though your heart was still racing. “But this isn’t over.”

“No,” he agreed, his jaw set with determination. “But we’ll face it together.”

---

The aftermath of Caracalla’s brazen attack left the palace in disarray. Courtiers fled in fear, and whispers of civil war spread like wildfire. Geta acted quickly, summoning his most loyal advisors and reinforcing the palace with trusted guards. His calm, commanding presence kept the empire from descending into chaos, but the tension weighed heavily on both of you.

---

You stood by his side in every council meeting, your mere presence a symbol of unity and strength. Together, you worked tirelessly to solidify his rule, making strategic alliances and rooting out those who could not be trusted.

“I won’t let him tear this empire apart,” Geta vowed one night as you reviewed reports in your shared quarters.

“And I won’t let him tear us apart,” you replied, your voice steady. “We’re stronger than he is, Geta. We’ll prevail.”

He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You give me strength,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You’ll never have to find out.”

---

Meanwhile, Caracalla retreated to a stronghold outside the capital, gathering forces loyal to him. Reports of his movements reached you daily, each one painting a clearer picture of his growing army.

“He’s trying to divide the empire,” Geta said during a strategy meeting. “If he succeeds, Rome will be lost.”

“We won’t let that happen,” you said firmly, standing beside him.

One of his generals spoke up. “Your Majesty, we must act swiftly. A decisive victory will quash any hope of rebellion.”

Geta nodded, his expression resolute. “Then we prepare for battle. But first, we must ensure the safety of the capital—and of the empress.”

You started to protest, but Geta silenced you with a look. “I won’t risk you, my love. You’re too important—to me and to Rome.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, knowing he only wanted to protect you.

---

As preparations for war intensified, you and Geta cherished the rare moments of peace you had together. One evening, he led you to the palace gardens, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the flowers.

“You brought me here once before,” you said, smiling at the memory.

“And I’ll bring you here again,” he replied, pulling you into his arms. “When this is all over, I want us to live without fear. To build a future together.”

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “We will,” you promised. “I believe in you, Geta. I always have.”

He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. In that moment, the weight of the empire seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you and the love you shared.

---

The day of the confrontation arrived sooner than expected. Caracalla’s forces marched on the capital, their banners visible from the city walls.

Geta took to the battlefield, his armor gleaming in the sunlight as he rallied his troops. You watched from a secure vantage point, your heart pounding with every clash of swords and every cry of battle.

Hours passed, the outcome uncertain. But as the sun began to set, a cheer rose from the battlefield. Geta emerged victorious, his banner held high as Caracalla’s forces retreated in defeat.

When he returned to the palace, bloodied but unbroken, you ran to him, throwing your arms around him despite the protests of his guards.

“It’s over,” he said, his voice hoarse but filled with relief. “He’s gone.”

You held him tightly, tears streaming down your face. “You did it,” you whispered. “We did it.”

---

With Caracalla defeated, the empire began to heal. Geta’s victory solidified his rule, and the people celebrated the triumph of their emperor and empress.

In the weeks that followed, you worked together to rebuild what had been lost. The scars of the conflict remained, but so did the strength of your love and the promise of a brighter future.

——

The victory celebration had been a grand affair - feasts, toasts, and the adulation of the people filling the palace halls. But as the night drew to a close, Geta had only one thing on his mind: you.

He ushered you into your shared chambers, his hands already roaming your body, his touch possessive and hungry. "I've been waiting all night to have you to myself," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You shivered at his words, your heart racing in anticipation. "Geta," you breathed, your hands fisting in his tunic. "Please."

He chuckled, the sound low and dark. "Patience, my love. I intend to take my time with you tonight."

His fingers found the fastenings of your gown, working them loose with practiced ease. The fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, leaving you bare before him.

Geta's eyes raked over your body, his gaze hot and intense. "Exquisite," he growled, his hands skimming over your curves, mapping every inch of your skin.

He backed you towards the bed, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. Each touch sent sparks of pleasure racing through your veins, your body arching into his.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, Geta pushed you down, crawling over you with a predatory grace. "I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promised, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to make you forget everything but my name."

His mouth found your breast, his tongue circling your nipple before drawing it into his mouth. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

Geta worked his way down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He settled between your thighs, his breath hot against your most sensitive parts.

"You're already so wet," he murmured, his fingers parting your folds. "Is this all for me?"

You nodded, your hips lifting off the bed, seeking more of his touch. "Yes," you gasped. "Only for you, Geta."

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and he set about his task with a single-minded determination that left you writhing beneath him. His tongue was skilled, his mouth hot and wet, and he brought you to the edge again and again, only to pull back at the last moment.

"Not yet," he panted, his voice strained. "I'm not done with you."

He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat. "Tell me you're mine," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. "Tell me you belong to me."

"Yours," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Geta. All yours."

With a low groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth stroke. You cried out at the sudden fullness, your back arching off the bed.

Geta set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that rocked the bed. Each thrust drove him deeper, harder, until the room was filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and the creaking of the mattress.

You met him thrust for thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The pleasure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until it exploded, washing over you in waves of ecstasy.

Geta followed soon after, his body tensing above you as he spilled himself inside you with a guttural moan. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck.

"My star," he murmured, his voice soft and sated. "My beautiful, perfect star."

You held him close, your heart swelling with a love that felt like it could burst. In this moment, the rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms.

It was a perfect moment, a rare glimpse of peace in a world that was constantly at war. And you held onto it, cherishing it, knowing that it was a gift that couldn't last forever.

But for now, you were content to stay in Geta's arms, to let the rest of the world fade away. Because here, with him, you were exactly where you belonged.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

#x reader #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta x you #emperor geta #geta x you #geta x reader #emperor geta x reader #gladiator x reader #gladiator movie #joseph quinn gladiator #gladiator ll #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 x reader

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winxanity-ii · 6 months ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 09 Chapter 09 | fractured harmony⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The feast was in full swing, the grand hall once again filled with laughter and life. The air was warm and heady, charged with the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread, mingling with the sweet aroma of honeyed fruits.

It was a jolly atmosphere—joyful, vibrant, alive.

You found yourself among the musicians once again, your hands moving rhythmically over a small djembe drum, the deep, resonant beat echoing through your body.

With every strike of your hands on the drum's taut skin, you could feel your heart matching its tempo, drumming in sync with the pulse of the music. The rhythm was infectious; your whole body seemed to pulse along, your face flushed from the heat and energy of the room.

There was something about being a part of this collective sound, this melding of melody and percussion, that made the moment feel almost sacred, as if all the troubles of the world had temporarily vanished in the warmth of the hall.

You watched as the others played their instruments—lyres, flutes, and tambourines—all weaving together in a tapestry of sound that filled every corner of the room. Your fingers ached from the constant motion, but the smiles on the faces of those around you were more than enough to keep you going.

The music built up to a joyous crescendo, and as the final notes echoed, the song came to an end, leaving you breathless and grinning.

You took the opportunity to step away, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Making your way towards the long table at the side, you grabbed a goblet of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

You paused, leaning back against one of the stone pillars, your gaze wandering across the grand hall as you took a long sip.

The sight before you was beautiful—almost like something out of a dream. Penelope and Odysseus sat close together at the head table, the queen's eyes warm as they rested on her husband.

Every so often, Odysseus leaned over, his lips moving close to Penelope's ear, whispering something that made her smile. She swatted playfully at his chest, her laughter ringing out—a sound full of genuine happiness that made your own heart swell.

It was a simple, tender moment, yet it spoke of the love and resilience they shared, even after everything they had endured.

As you finished your drink, you heard the musicians striking up another tune. The lively notes filled the room, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched several servants—both from Ithaca and Bronte—begin to laugh and cheer, pairing up to dance.

There was something beautiful about the sight, the way the house colors blended together, Ithaca's blue and gold intermingling with Bronte's green and yellow. The servants moved with an easy grace, their feet tapping in time with the beat, skirts and tunics twirling in flashes of color.

The laughter, the cheer, the music—it all seemed to weave together, filling the room with a sense of unity.

Just as you were about to move and head back to the musicians, you spotted Telemachus making his way over. His eyes met yours, and an easy grin spread across his face, one that you couldn't help but mirror.

You smoothed down your clothes absentmindedly, flattening your hair as a flutter of excitement bubbled up inside you. Your heart beat just a little faster, a mix of anticipation and nervousness making you fidget.

Telemachus had always made it his mission to catch a dance with you if time permitted, and tonight seemed to be no different. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that welled up inside as he drew closer, the warmth of his smile making everything else fade into the background.

But just as he was about to reach you, a flash of green and yellow entered your field of vision.

Lady Andreia intercepted Telemachus, her bright grin unmistakable as she placed a hand on his arm, her fingers curling gently but confidently around his sleeve.

Without waiting for his response, she tugged him toward the center of the room, where the others were already dancing.

Telemachus hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes flickering back to meet yours, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but there was a twinge of something in your chest, an unfamiliar emotion that you couldn't quite place.

You watched as the princess pulled Telemachus into the line of dancers, their movements quickly falling in sync with the lively beat of the music. The prince spun her effortlessly, his laughter mingling with hers as they joined in the swirling dance.

Your gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, that odd twinge deepening in your chest as you took in the sight—the two of them moving together, their colors blending amidst the blues, golds, greens, and yellows that filled the hall.

It was a beautiful scene, and yet, it left you feeling strangely hollow.

With a soft sigh, you turned away, forcing a smile as you made your way back toward the musicians. The music was still playing, the notes joyous and bright, but for the first time tonight, it felt as if you were on the outside looking in.

☆

All throughout the evening, Lady Andreia had remained close to Telemachus, her laughter echoing above the music, her presence unwavering. She danced with him, her smile radiant as they spun together, her fingers brushing his arm in fleeting touches that seemed both innocent and intentional.

They moved as if they had known each other forever, and it left little room for anyone else to join in.

You tried to stay focused, to keep the beat steady with the musicians, your hands drumming over the small djembe until your palms ached. The rhythm was your anchor, something that kept your thoughts from drifting too far into that uncomfortable twinge that seemed to grow each time you caught a glimpse of Telemachus and Andreia together.

He tried, a few times, to break away—to come find you and drag you into the dance—but each time, Andreia was there, her bright smile and laughter cutting in before he even reached you.

Eventually, you decided it was easier to stay put, to let the music carry you through the evening and to ignore Telemachus' fruitless attempts to catch your attention.

It was better this way, or at least, that was what you told yourself.

You poured all your energy into the music, the notes carrying you forward even when your heart wasn't quite in it; your fingers grew sore, your body ached, but you refused to let the fatigue—or the strange, unfamiliar feeling gnawing at you—show.

The music was your refuge, the only thing that made sense in the swirl of emotions you couldn't quite name.

By the time the last of the guests had gone, the hall was quiet, save for the clatter of dishes and the soft murmurs of the servants as they tidied up.

You worked alongside them, your movements automatic—stacking plates, wiping down tables, sweeping away the remains of the night's revelry.

As you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances toward the center of the room, where Telemachus and Andreia had danced. The memory of them spinning together, her hand resting on his shoulder, his smile bright and carefree, made your heart twist painfully.

There was a heaviness in your chest that you tried to ignore, shaking your head as if that would somehow rid you of the thoughts that kept creeping in.

Once the work was done, you walked with the others out of the now empty hall, your footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor.

You exchanged quiet goodbyes, your voice almost lost in the stillness of the night, and then you turned, splitting off from the group as you made your way towards your room.

The night was calm, the air cool against your skin as you stepped into the outside.

The sky above was clear, the moonlight showering down, bathing the courtyard in a silvery glow. The chirping of insects filled the quiet, a gentle hum that seemed to wrap around you, a reminder that even in the stillness, life continued.

The path to your room was familiar, and you moved slowly, your eyes tracing the patterns of moonlight on the ground, your thoughts drifting.

The ache in your chest hadn't lessened, but out here, beneath the open sky, it felt a little easier to bear.

It was quiet. Peaceful. A stark contrast to the noise and warmth of the hall, to the laughter and music that had filled the air not long ago.

And yet, even in the quiet, your mind thought about Telemachus, about the way his eyes had searched for yours, the way Lady Andreia had pulled him away.

You shook your head again, as if to clear it, and quickened your pace.

It was late, and you were tired. Tomorrow would be another day, and perhaps, with the morning light, things would feel different.

So instead of focusing on such churning thoughts, you focus on the sound of your footsteps, the feel of the ground beneath your sandals, the glow of the moonlight guiding you forward.

The night was quiet, and for now, that was enough.

You were nearly halfway to your room when you heard your name called, the sound breaking through the stillness of the night. The voice was familiar—soft, yet insistent—and it made you stop in your tracks, your heart giving a small, unexpected leap.

Turning around, your eyes widened slightly as you saw Telemachus jogging towards you, his figure illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon. He was a sight, his hair a little tousled, cheeks flushed from the exertion, and something about the way he moved—hurried, purposeful—sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

"____," he called again, his breath a little heavy by the time he reached you, but his eyes were bright, a soft smile spreading across his face. He looked down at you, his gaze gentle, and for a moment, the weight that had settled in your chest seemed to lift, just a little.

"May I escort you the rest of the way?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of warmth, his eyes searching yours as if hoping for an invitation.

Before you could respond, his hand reached out, taking the djembe drum that hung by your side, lifting it from your shoulder with a careful touch.

You blinked, and then smiled, nodding. "Of course," you said, your voice softer than you intended, but it seemed enough for him. Telemachus returned your smile, his own soft and genuine, and with that, the two of you began to walk.

The silence that fell between you was comfortable, the kind that needed no words; you could feel the warmth of the prince beside you, his arm brushing against yours every so often as you walked. The djembe hung at his side, and his fingers tapped against it absently, keeping a gentle rhythm as you moved.

You found yourself glancing at him from the corner of your eye, the moonlight highlighting the curve of his jaw, the softness of his expression, and something inside you softened too.

He looked ahead, his gaze focused on the path, his features calm and relaxed, and there was something about the way he walked—steady, unhurried—that made you feel at ease.

It was as if, for just this moment, all the confusion and the uncertainty from earlier had faded away, leaving behind only this—just the two of you, walking side by side beneath the moonlight.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you looked ahead, letting the quiet wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

The night seemed to hold its breath; the only sounds were the soft crunch of your footsteps against the path and the distant chirping of crickets. You could hear the rustle of the olive branches above, swaying gently in the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the ground as the moonlight filtered through the leaves.

The air was cool, crisp against your skin, yet the warmth of Telemachus beside you seemed to make the chill almost pleasant, balancing it out in a way that made you feel content.

Telemachus cleared his throat softly, the sound breaking through the quiet but not disturbing it—more like adding another layer to the stillness of the night. He looked down at you, his eyes soft, the corners of his lips turning upwards. "Did you enjoy the feast?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, as though he wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to break the peaceful silence.

You turned your head towards him, meeting his gaze, and a bright smile spread across your face. "I did, my prince," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of excitement as you recalled the vibrant festivities. "It was wonderful—the music, the dancing, the laughter. It felt like, for just a moment, everything was right again. Everyone seemed... happy."

Telemachus nodded, his expression softening, the lines of tension easing from his face. "It was," he agreed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Bronte was surprisingly pleasant. The people were warmer than I expected. It was nice, having them here."

At the mention of the neighboring kingdom, you felt your smile falter just a little, your heart giving an odd, uncomfortable twist.

You nodded, forcing the smile to stay on your lips, pressing on despite the unease that flickered within you. "Yes, it was," you agreed, your voice quieter now, a touch of something unspoken lacing your words.

You looked ahead, focusing on the path, on the way the stones seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, trying to push away the feeling that tugged at your chest.

You could feel Telemachus glancing at you, his gaze lingering, as though he could sense the shift in your mood, but he said nothing, choosing instead to remain in the comfortable silence, letting the moment stretch between you.

And for that, you were grateful. Grateful for his presence, for the warmth that seemed to radiate from him, for the way he walked beside you without question or pressure, just there, solid and steady.

After a few more moments, Telemachus gave a soft chuckle, his voice lightening the mood. "I think I made a fool of myself on the dance floor," he admitted, shaking his head, a sheepish grin forming on his face. "I haven't danced like that in a long time."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping you before you could stop it. You glanced up at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "You weren't that bad," you teased gently, your smile widening. "In fact, I'd say you were quite impressive—though maybe not as graceful as Lady Andreia."

Telemachus groaned playfully, rolling his eyes. "Ah, yes," he said, his tone holding a hint of self-deprecation. "She certainly made me look better than I am." He paused, glancing at you with a sly smile. "Though, I do think I would've rather danced with you instead."

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading across your cheeks. You looked away, hiding the smile that tugged at your lips, feeling a flutter of something light and hopeful bloom in your chest. "Perhaps next time, my prince," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

Telemachus hummed in agreement, and you felt his arm brush against yours, a gentle touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

The two of you continued walking, the soft crunch of your footsteps filling the silence as the path narrowed; the ground gradually shifted beneath you, the soft crunch of gravel transitioning into the smooth tiles of the palace floor as you entered a different part of the building.

Telemachus walked you all the way to your door, neither of you saying much—the quiet had settled between you like a comforting blanket, one neither of you wished to disturb.

When you reached your door, you paused, turning to face him, your eyes meeting his. The moonlight bathed his features in a gentle glow, softening the lines of his face, making him look almost ethereal.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you filled with something unspoken, something tender and fragile.

Telemachus gave you a soft smile, his gaze never leaving yours. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gentle, almost hesitant touch, as if testing the waters. "Goodnight, ____" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with warmth.

You swallowed, your heart pounding, and offered him a small, genuine smile in return. "Goodnight, my prince." Your voice was equally soft, the words carrying more than just a farewell—something unspoken that hung between you, lingering in the air.

For a moment, it felt as though he might lean closer, as if the two of you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn't quite name. But then he pulled back, his smile still in place, and nodded once before turning to walk away, his footsteps fading into the night.

You watched him go, your heart still pounding, warmth blooming in your chest. When he finally disappeared from view, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, leaning back against your door. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you rested your head against the wood, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Your heart was racing, your cheeks warm, and for a moment, you let yourself bask in the feeling—the hope, the warmth, the quiet thrill that seemed to spread through you.

It was like a secret, something just for you to hold onto, a memory to carry with you.

Finally, with a sigh, you pushed yourself away from the door, opening it quietly and stepping inside.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon filtering through the small window. You moved slowly, setting your drum down in the corner, your fingers lingering on the wood for a moment.

You shrugged off your shoes, your fingers deftly undoing the laces before placing them neatly to the side. Your eyes scanned the dim room, and you quietly moved to take off the rest of your attire, folding each piece carefully and setting it on a chair.

You splashed your face with water from the basin, the coolness making you shiver slightly, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of your flushed cheeks.

Finally, you slipped into your nightclothes, letting out a content sigh as you settled into your bed; you were knocked out the moment your head hit the pillow.

The dream was unlike anything you had ever experienced—a strange yet beautiful vision that seemed to blur the lines between fantasy and reality.

You were sitting in a seemingly never-ending field of flowers, the sun shining down warmly, bathing everything in a golden glow. The flowers danced around you, vibrant colors stretching as far as your eyes could see.

You wore a flowing white dress, its fabric catching the breeze, and your feet were bare, the earth beneath you soft and comforting.

You were humming softly to yourself, the tune light and carefree, your hands busy weaving a flower crown to match the one already resting atop your head. There was a sense of tranquility, of freedom, that seemed to fill you entirely, making your heart swell with joy.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across you, interrupting the sunlight, and you looked up, a smile already forming on your lips. Though the figure was shrouded in shadow, somehow, you knew them—an innate familiarity that made you feel safe, comforted.

The man bent down, his presence filling the space around you with warmth. His hand reached out to cup the bottom of your face gently, and his touch was like sunlight itself—soft, warm, and deeply comforting. You found yourself closing your eyes, leaning into it, savoring the tenderness. His thumb brushed against your cheek, a touch so soft it almost tickled, and you could feel your heart fluttering in your chest.

The man leaned closer, his warmth enveloping you as his lips brushed against your ear; you shivered as he whispered your name—a low, soft voice that sent a thrill down your spine.

" ____, my love."

The words were filled with so much warmth, so much affection that it made your heart swell almost painfully. His presence was comforting, his closeness like a soothing balm to your soul.

You could feel the heat of his breath, the way his hand cradled your face like you were something precious, irreplaceable. The warmth of his touch seeped into your very being, making you wish for the moment to stretch on forever.

You leaned into him further, your heart pounding with something that felt so pure, so unguarded, and as his fingers brushed against your jawline, you could almost feel the promise in that simple touch—a promise of love, of devotion, of something far beyond what words could convey.

And just as you began to turn your face towards his, your eyes still closed, your lips parting slightly—

When your eyes opened, the dream was gone, replaced by the soft light of dawn breaking past the horizon, filling your room with its gentle glow.

You blinked, disoriented for a moment, the warmth of the dream still lingering in your chest, the sensation of his touch still vivid.

With a sigh, you rubbed your face, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream as you slowly pushed yourself up, the chill of the morning air brushing against your skin.

You could still feel the echoes of that strange, beautiful vision as you stood, stretching, and began to prepare yourself for the day ahead.

☆

Throughout the morning, you couldn't help but notice that Lady Andreia was still on Ithaca.

You had seen her once or twice after she had gathered her brother's body, and you had assumed she would leave promptly after, but she and her entourage had continued to stay. She was particularly present around the royal family, her presence lingering like a shadow.

Most noticeably, she often stayed close to Queen Penelope.

At first, you assumed it was simply a formality—a gesture of goodwill to stay and converse with the queen after everything that had happened. But as the hours passed, you saw Andreia with Penelope often, their heads bowed together, sharing whispers and laughter.

There was an ease between them that seemed to grow, as though they were beginning to find comfort in each other's company.

It was nearing lunchtime when you were bringing a tray of fruit and freshly baked bread to Penelope. You made your way through the corridors, the tray balanced carefully in your hands.

The closer you got to the queen's chambers, the more you could hear the soft murmur of voices.

When you entered, you found Penelope and Andreia seated by the window, sunlight streaming in, casting a warm glow over them. They were chatting animatedly, their smiles bright, their conversation filled with an ease that made you pause.

Penelope looked up as you entered, her expression softening. "Oh, ____, I'm sorry," she said, a gentle apology in her voice. "I forgot to tell you that Lady Andreia would be joining me for lunch today."

You nodded, offering her a small smile. "No trouble at all, my queen. I can bring more," you said politely, already making a mental note to fetch another tray.

But Lady Andreia shook her head, her red hair catching the sunlight as she smiled warmly at you. "Please, there's no need. I feel like I'm intruding as it is," she said, her tone light, though there was a sincerity beneath her words.

Penelope waved her off, her smile growing. "Nonsense. You are a guest here, and it is our duty to make you feel welcome."

You busied yourself setting down the tray, your hands moving with practiced ease as you arranged the dishes, making sure everything was in place. You tried to keep your mind focused on your task, but you couldn't help overhearing their conversation.

"I must say," Andreia spoke, her voice carrying a note of wistfulness, "Ithaca is truly beautiful. The landscapes, the people—there is a warmth here that I have never known elsewhere."

Penelope smiled at her, tilting her head slightly. "It is home," she replied, her voice filled with a quiet pride.

Andreia sighed softly, her gaze drifting out the window. "Bronte is beautiful too, in its own way," she continued, her voice thoughtful. "But it's different. The mountains are tall and covered in mist, and the forests are dense, almost impenetrable. Our people are strong, but they lack the openness I see here. Everything in Bronte is..." She paused, searching for the right word, "harsher, I suppose. Our winters are long, and the sea is often angry, but there is beauty in its wildness."

You couldn't help but glance at her as she spoke, her eyes far away, lost in her memories. There was a sadness there—a longing for something. It made you pause, your hands hovering for a moment as you listened.

Penelope reached over, placing a gentle hand on Lady Andreia's. "Every place has its own beauty," she said softly. "And I am glad that, at least for now, you can find some warmth here with us."

Andreia looked at Penelope, her eyes softening as she smiled. "Thank you," she said quietly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Then, after a small pause, she added, her tone shifting slightly, almost wistful, "The people here respect you deeply, my queen. It must be a great comfort to have such loyalty from those around you. And King Odysseus... his presence must also be a great source of strength for you. His reputation alone speaks volumes."

Penelope returned her smile, her expression warm but also slightly curious. "It is a blessing," she agreed, her eyes meeting Andreia's with genuine fondness. "One that I do not take for granted. Odysseus and I have been through much together, and his return has brought a balance I did not realize I needed."

You watched the exchange, Andreia's eyes lingering on Penelope with something like longing—perhaps admiration, perhaps something else, a yearning you couldn't quite understand.

She smiled again, though there was a weight to her words. "The tales of his cunning and strength—seeing him here, in person, makes one understand how such legends are born." The way her words hung in the air, filled with both warmth and something more complex, made you uneasy.

You finished your task, stepping back and offering a polite bow before making yourself scarce.

You couldn't quite place the feeling that lingered in your chest as you walked away—a mixture of curiosity and something else, something you couldn't quite name.

A/N: ugggghh, the way i wanna jump right into meeting hermes, lololol but alas plot gosta be made, but the brightside is at least the buildup will be magnificent; double ugggghhhhh cuz tell me why i'm literally writing this so-called group paper for one of my classes by myself?? we in college, these people too grown not to know how to write a fucking paragraph, but lemme stop before i start ranting 😩😭 so i do apologize if update are really really reaaallllyyy weird because i'm working + schooling 💔

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