#DO NOT ATTACK EACH OTHER FFS

[astonmartinii]

it's got to be time travel | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem footballer!reader

face claim: jessie fleming (i'm a chelsea fan and i'm sad she left :()

they've got all the time in the world for each other, don't ask them where they got that time from though

note: we're also gonna pretend that the women's football and f1 seasons line up here lol

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,203,784 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: last sunday lunch before we both have to go back to work :(

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user1: ffs why do their ACTUAL jobs have to get in the way of my regularly scheduled charles x y/n content???

user2: i personally think that the fia should just give charles the championship and y/n the WSL title so they can just chill together :)

maxverstappen1: not on my watch

charles_leclerc: you don't even follow me? get out of my comments

maxverstappen1: you can't just get given the championship because you have attachment issues WE ALL HAVE ATTACHMENT ISSUES

charles_leclerc: me i get, but y/n doesn't deserve to win?

maxverstappen1: i never said that. y/n is girlboss slay queen

yourusername: too right i am

charles_leclerc: why are you peace and love with her and not me?

maxverstappen1: she's cool, you aren't

yourusername: can't disagree with that babe soz

user3: i have a feeling that these spats might get worse the longer charles is separated from y/n

user4: waa waa we're all sad their being separated but all i'm thinking is UP THE CHELS

user5: i need the treble right fucking now, a charles championship would be a bonus i guess

lewishamilton: will i get a formal introduction to y/n before we're teammates?

yourusername: YES, YES YOU WILL

charles_leclerc: i guess that answers that

lewishamilton: don't hate the player, hate the game

yourusername: i better see your ass at kingsmeadow at some point, it's fun, even if others think they're too good for it

lewishamilton: i'll be there 🫡

user7: can 2025 come quick.... PLEASE

user8: lol does this mean that charles has offered to take carlos to a game but he didn't go?

user9: ugh what a bore

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,402,667 others

tagged: chelseafcw

yourusername: excited for the new season back with the girlypops :))))))

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user10: treble or nothing I BEG

user11: it's their year for the champions league i've seen the script

alexalbon: no seatbelt ? way to set dangerous examples to your young audience

yourusername: if you're not careful i'm gonna teach my audience how to put their foot up the ass of those annoying her

alexalbon: ugh i hope you lose :P

yourusername: i don't have to hope, i know your ass ain't gonna be in q3

alexalbon: that's TOO far @charles_leclerc does our years of friendship mean nothing?

charles_leclerc: sorry buddy, i am y/n stan first, human being second

yourusername: as he should.

user12: so like... will we see charles in a y/n jersey again in the paddock?

user13: @ferrari stop being so annoying and let him wear what he wants

user14: i think i tasted paradise when they actually let him wear a y/n canada jersey in montreal

charles_leclerc: never seen someone make blue look so good

maxverstappen1: i'm right here?

sebastianvettel: did the homoeroticism of our challenge videos mean nothing?

danielricciardo: do not lie to yourself

yourusername: sorry sluts, you wish you looked this good

charles_leclerc: they'll never be you 🫶🏻

user15: i know the cfcw admin and pr department have a heart attack every time y/n posts

user16: the way she's out here calling three f1 drivers sluts with no repercussions

yourusername: can't be told off for telling the TRUTH

f1

liked by lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,205,489 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

f1: couple goals! charles leclerc takes pole in bahrain while his girlfriend, y/n y/ln, scored the winner for chelsea women!

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user19: okay but i've never been in a relationship and am currently rotting on my couch... so who is the real winner here x

yourusername: my handsome boy is so talented :3

charles_leclerc: not as talented as you, pretty girl

yourusername: nuh uh at least my team is competent

charles_leclerc: errrrr

samkerr20: i think you broke him lol

yourusername: sometimes i think he's more loyal to ferrari than me

charles_leclerc: no!

scuderiaferrari: huh?

charles_leclerc: wait...

yourusername: i see :(

charles_leclerc: i'm LOGGING OUT

user20: charles is so lover boy stuck in his tortured poets department (ferrari formula one team)

user21: the way he's probably yelling down the phone to y/n about how much he loves her right now

samkerr20: he is and it's so loud the whole locker room can hear it

yourusername: but he's so sweet isn't he

niamhcharles17: i guess?

alexalbon: we heard it from his side... barf

yourusername: @lilymunhe are you being starved of romance?

lilymunhe: compared to you and charles YES

alexalbon: ummmm get out of my business y/ln

yourusername: you're ALWAYS in my business buster 🤨

alexalbon: NO! i am just passing down the ancient skill of communication?

yourusername: you're such a gossip girl alex

user21: i know they bicker like siblings, but i know deep down that there have been double dates

charles_leclerc: yes, but y/n and i are much better (no offence lily)

yourusername: did you log back in to restart the argument with alex

charles_leclerc: yes!

alexalbon: boo you whore

yourusername: don't talk to him like that 🤨

samkerr20

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 303,445 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

samkerr20: forced to hang out with the straights... they're actually kind of cute

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user22: you know the couple has to be real cute when even the gays think they're cute

user23: no one can resist the charms of y/n and charles

yourusername: these photos make me think that we are cuter

samkerr20: we are but i didn't want to hurt charles' feelings

charles_leclerc: consider them hurt

samkerr20: boo hoo

yourusername: noooooo i love you xxx

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehehe i love you too xxx

yourusername: i miss you, hurry up and win and come home to me

charles_leclerc: i'm doing my best :(

yourusername: you are the bestest boy

samkerr20: STOP THAT MAKES HIM SOUND LIKE A DOG

oscarpiastri: when will australians stop being victims of this relationship

danielricciardo: this is your first season dealing with them properly, buckle up

oscarpiastri: i'm in a relationship but they make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while

yourusername: we're right here

landonorris: let us commiserate in peace

charles_leclerc: ??? do you or do you not get free football tickets out of it?

landonorris: yeha but when we go we just have to watch you cry when y/n inevitably wins another trophy

charles_leclerc: I'M PROUD OF HER AND YOU WON'T SHAME ME FOR THAT

user24: chelsea women players must be so confused when these grown men start arguments in the comments of THEIR posts

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,529,556 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: weekend off... you know what that means

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user25: i know there's over 1.5 million likes but how can i gatekeep y/n?

user26: for real

charles_leclerc: the best weekends are with you here

yourusername: i may have a love/hate relationship with this team, but the catering is banging (i may have to move to italy)

chelseafcw: NO MENTIONS OF LEAVING CHELSEA, NOT EVEN A JOKE - NOTHING!

yourusername: okay, sorry guys (the pasta was so good though)

charles_leclerc: not even for me?

chelseafcw: DEFINITELY NOT FOR YOU, WATCH OUT OR WE'LL BLACKLIST YOU FROM KINGSMEADOW

yourusername: okay, let's pedal this back. i'm not leaving london and we all still love charles, right admin?

chelseafcw: .... yes

user27: when you're in a who has attachment issues with y/n y/ln and your competition is the chelseafcw admin and charles leclerc

user28: no point even showing up

maxverstappen1: i for one am glad when y/n is in the paddock because it means i can sneak in without the cameras seeing me

yourusername: i am a woman of the people

charles_leclerc: she's such a star, everyone wants to see her

maxverstappen1: yeah i'll give you that

yourusername: we're also hot

charles_leclerc: don't you dare respond to that one max

maxverstappen1: 🫡🫡🫡

user29: patiently waiting for the hq photos of them 😚

user30: gonna print them out and put them in my heart locket

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,398,452 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: babe is top of the league (and top scorer)

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user33: get yourself a guy who flexes your achievements as much as charles does

user34: setting the example tbf

yourusername: my lucky charm, that hat-trick was for you xx

charles_leclerc: would mean more if you didn't score them every week 😭

yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning

charles_leclerc: wanna share some wins with me?

yourusername: you're doing great this season babe, not your fault that nasa decided to rebrand to red bull racing

redbullracing: adrian says thanks 😊

charles_leclerc: DON'T SAY IT Y/N

yourusername: you don't even know what i was going to say

charles_leclerc: ....

yourusername: @redbullracing you got a seat???

charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!!!!!!!!

yourusername: whoops

user35: y/n really out here trying to get charles that damn seat

yourusername: i'll stop when the horse team makes a championship worthy car that they don't break halfway through the season...

user36: add ferrari to the group of people who shudder in fear when y/n posts

chelseafcw: fine... we hope you enjoyed (no more italy jokes)

charles_leclerc: i had a great time, i always do when i watch y/n do what she loves (slay)

yourusername: awwwwwwwwww i love you charlie

chelseafcw: okay no need to make admin feel that lonely, damn

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,782,309 others

yourusername: finishing my best ever season with a big trophy haul :) now time to support my trophy husband in his day job

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user41: she really be out here doing it all

user42: i need her to win the Ballon d'Or Féminin PLEASE IT IS TIME

user43: with charles in attendance, first couples red carpet appearance YES, YES RUN IT TO ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you, mon amour, constantly inspired by you

yourusername: i love you so much, thank you for being there to support me through it all

charles_leclerc: it's the biggest pleasure in the world

yourusername: i'm all out of winning this season, your turn next weekend?

charles_leclerc: for you, i'll do anything

user44: PLEASE I NEED HIM TO WIN GOOD PLEASE

alexalbon: congrats i guess, you're pretty good

yourusername: thanks, since my boyf is so supportive, it's only natural that you have to try and humble me at every turn

alexalbon: you're more famous than us now, we need to keep you grounded

lilymunhe: don't worry y/n he cried nearly just as much as charles when you won the WSL

yourusername: I KNEW IT

charles_leclerc: i still cried more

alexalbon: it's not a competition bro, we all know you're both helplessly in love

yourusername: that we are

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,309,855 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: happiest when i'm with you (and whoever has decided to tag along), oh and winning a race helps as well i guess

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user45: CHARLES WIN I REPEAT A CHARLES WIN WE WON?

user46: the way y/n went just as mental as us, her and zecira jumping around the garage (and starting the champagne shower after the podium)

user47: really proving that y/n and charles really are each other's biggest fans

user48: thank the lord the WSL season finished when it did so y/n could be there for this win

user49: y/n would've ran to austria to be there i'm sure

yourusername: you know it 🫡

maxverstappen1: had to let you win so you could look cool in front of your infinitely cooler girlfriend

charles_leclerc: not even gonna bite, i'm too happy to care

yourusername: i'll bite - HIS TALENTED BEHIND SCHOOLED YOUR ASS

maxverstappen1: but i called you cool?

yourusername: i'll accept the compliment now, i had to defend charles' honour first

charles_leclerc: heheheehe i'm blushing

maxverstappen1: gross

user50: i need y/n to permanently be in the ferrari garage, they were on it today (i think out of fear)

landonorris: damn i thought i thirdwheeling lestappen was bad, but y/n and charles is a different beast

yourusername: we're both athletes, need to savour the time we have together when we can

charles_leclerc: sorry not sorry you'll get it when you're in love

landonorris: .... i guess i'll die then

fin.

note: i hope you enjoyed !!!! one last WIP to go and good lord the writers block is kicking my ass. but f1 being back should help!!! + f1 academy, much enjoyed it so far.

[boiohboii]

What's a soft launch? (Lando Norris x Leclerc! Reader)

YN Leclerc is dating Lando Norris in secret, and they had been keeping it really quite for the past 9 months, but unfortunately she is dating an idiot who forgot to close his stream.

or

in which YN Leclerc and Lando Norris make everyone watching his stream need to bleach their eyes.

N.B: this is something for fun and has no relation to real life people. Also, I'll be doing a sm fic based on this cause a meme picture is what started this for me.

WARNING: suggestive, no actual smut. Making out. PDA cause lando forgot to close his stream. Mentions of breast, nipple and bra. French not used properly?... if i missed anything else let me know!

Sighing, Lando stretched his back while calling for his girlfriend- letting her know that it's okay to come in.

"Hey handsome."

username: is that who I think it is!

username: ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

username: someone call 911 lando no rizz pulled YN Leclerc

username: I want yn to call me handsome too

Unaware of the fast chat the couple smiled at each other as YN sat on Lando's lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, wrists staying still at the nape of his neck while her fingers play with the soft curls of his hair.

"Hello ma chérie."

And that's all the older boy got to say as the young girl latched her lips onto his, tightening her grip around his neck while his arms rest at her hips, squeezing them as he lifts her up a bit trying to reach as much of her as possible.

username: AY YOOOOOO someone tell my man he is live and we can see that

username: THE GRIP HE HAS ON MY GIRL

username: ooofffff, Lando's funeral is gonna be tomorrow my dudes

username: F in the chat for lando

username: F in the chat for charles, he having a heart attack rn

username: my girl gonna wake up with bruises

Breaking away to catch their breath Lando's hand caressed her hips, moving until they rested on her ass

"Ohhhh, okay, are we going there."

"I don't know gorgeous, are we?"

Shifting around in the chair, Lano placed his back to the arm of the chair moving YN in front of him- unknowingly, making the viewers have a perfect view of their interlocking lips which were quickly followed by a gasp from YN as Lando pressed his hips into hers- thus allowing a perfect entrance of his tongue into her mouth.

username: OKAY THIS IS A FULL MAKE OUT SESSION.

username: LANDO IS DYING AT 25 MY DUDES

username: FFS SOMEONE CALL THEM OR SEND A SUB OR SOMETHING, WE DON'T WANT LANDO TO DIE

username: Holy shit, YN have mercy on your brothers

username: how to be Lando rn

username: THIS FEELS SO WRONG, THEY LITERALY HAVE THEIR TONGUES DOWN EACH OTHER'S THROATS

username: please lord, let Lando still be able to have kids after seeing the Leclerc brothers

Being interrupted by her ringtone did not deter the couple from their steamy activity, in fact it was like they didn't even hear it as Lando's right hand slipped into the girl's shirt roaming around her stomach as it rested in her breast.

Another ringtone...... Lando's left hand made its way to her bra's clasp, opening it with swiftness that made it evident it had not been the first time he had done that.

The way their tongues moved and their arms explored places they were already familiar with only comes with expirence. A lot of experience.

As the ringtone got repeated for the third time, Lando decided to slow down, removing his lips from hers while his right hand pushed her bra downward a bit, making him feel her hard nipple under his fingertips.

Moving her left arm from around his neck while balancing herself with her right arm, YN reached into her back pocket getting her phone out.

"Oh, it's Danny"

The cheerful voice of the girl filles the room

username: of thank god!

username: FINALLY

username: Lando, you will be missed

username: this has been the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life

username: I wasn't even doing anything and I'm out of breath

Answering the phone YN couldn't even get a word out before Daniel is screaming into her ear

"IT'S LIVE! YOU'RE FUCKING LIVE."

Snapping her head towards her boyfriend's set up, she quickly balanced the phone in between her ear and her shoulder while removing his hand from under her shirt, tipping as she attempted to close the live while holding her bra in place as much as possible.

"What? What's wrong?" Upon seeing his girlfriend's frantic behaviour Lando became alert, worried something might be wrong.

"YOU DIDN'T CLOSE THE LIVE!"

"WHAT!!"

In a hurry to get up from his position and close the stream he tripped over his own feet just as his hands reached the desk, and as an attempt to save himself from the fall he gripped the first thing within his reach- his keyboard and his mic- making them fall right on his head.

The sudden scream of Lando's and the quite comical fall (in YN's opinion) made her forget about the older man on her phone and about the entire issue. The only thing she did was double over in laughter that within seconds turned into a sound similar to that of a car's windshield wiper.

"Oh, I'm glad my pain is amusing you."

username: this is the best stream of my entire fucking life man

username: I have no idea what is going on, but I love it

username: this is hilarious.

SOCIAL MEDIA REACTIONS

THE BROTHERS' REACTIONS

THE FAMILY DINNER

[anifever]

Dating Darry Curtis HC’s ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Darrel “Darry” Curtis x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : What I think dating ‘Superman’ would include

A/N : I’ve been busy but school’s out now so hopefully I can work on requests 💔. Also ily Jake Gyllenhaal but they should’ve never remade Roadhouse..

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🕊️ ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ I hate to say it (not really), but you’re like a married couple

୨ The gang calls you mom and dad as a joke

୨ You guys are so sitting on a porch with wind chimes and birds chirping in the bg and the warmth of the sun hitting your skin coded

୨ You’re so disgustingly in love and it makes everyone sick

୨ I feel like bcs of how he’s portrayed and the responsibilities/stress he takes on from the entire gang, it makes him seem way older than he is

୨ That’s also probably due to Patrick Swayze being 31 instead of 20 while filming and also being 15 years older than C Thomas Howell irl instead of the 6 year age gap their characters actually had…

୨ Anyways, you help him actually act more his age

୨ You convince him to go out more, etc

୨ Everyone’s happy to see him let loose once in a while

୨ Like you guys mess around when you bake/cook together by throwing flour at each other and giggling omg I’m vomiting

୨ You guys are sometimes (very rarely) even spotted at Buck’s together and Dallas has to do a double take

୨ You also bribe the boys to give you guys or just him in general some alone time LMAO

୨ You absolutely slow dance in the kitchen. Idc.

୨ He’s the type to call you “a real treat” when you dress up or do something nice for him

୨ Going shopping together and him walking around with his lil’ glasses reading the grocery list while you push the cart

୨ Sitting in his lap while he reads the newspaper ohahahwbrbrbnrne

୨ You guys definitely met early on; slow burn

୨ You were SO ‘So High School’ by Taylor Swift when you were a little bit younger

୨ Been in the works of writing a ff abt that..

୨ FINALLY officially asked you out senior year for prom and you’ve been together since, even though you guys were in love way before that

୨ You definitely have to get in between his and Pony’s fights a lot

୨ Soda comes to you for advice, no matter what it is- he thinks it’s refreshing to have someone new to talk to rather than constant arguing, yada yada

୨ Dallas either flirts with you to piss Darry off or he has a relationship with you like he did with Mrs. Curtis. No in between.

୨ The type of man to give you foot massages

୨ On the contrary, you also massage his shoulders

୨ Johnny probably had a tiny crush on you when you first met him years back, but it went away when you guys started dating

୨ Went away to an extent at least..

୨ Him standing between your legs while you’re sat on the sink shaving his face for him GODODODODID

୨ He says “honey, I’m home” unironically

୨ He’s able to pick you up pretty easily no matter your weight

୨ He does it a lot and it’s mainly to show off LMAO

୨ You guys play checkers together and genuinely enjoy it which doesn’t help your mom/dad allegations

୨ EXTREMELY good at calming you down whether it’s a panic attack, etc

୨ He might lose his temper a lot on his brothers, but he never does it with you

୨ If he ever does accidentally snap at you, he apologizes to no end

୨ He’s touching you whenever he can; a hand on your waist, around your shoulder, keeping you on his lap, a finger in your belt loop, etc

୨ Speaking of belt loops, you pulling him in by the loops or his belt buckle to kiss him⁉️⁉️⁉️ I’m losing it

୨ Whenever any sort of errand needs to be run, he either forces Pony/Soda to do it, or makes you come with him alone

୨ He buys you flowers whenever he has the extra money ☹️

୨ Has his moms wedding ring kept someplace safe to give to you one day

୨ On another note, she loved you so much before she passed

୨ She was also constantly teasing him about you two when you guys were younger

୨ If he’s exhausted from work and flops onto the couch with you, don’t expect to be getting up anytime soon

୨ Back to the ‘him going out more’ point- you guys go to rodeos together whenever he knows Pony is being watched by someone else

୨ Calming lil’ picnics together by a lake

୨ He unfortunately will have to cancel plans a good amount because of work-related stuff, but you completely understand

୨ He’s pretty stubborn about letting you help with money, but he gives in sometimes

୨ You leave him cute notes in the lunch that he takes to work <\\3

୨ He for sure keeps a hand on your thigh or knee while driving

୨ There’s no doubt in my mind you’d grow old together

୨ He’s thankful for you in so many ways and is glad you’re able to help his life feel normal again and like an actual 20 year-old

[novaursa]

The Last Dragonslayer (2/2)

- Summary: The conclusion of a journey, for you, one of the many.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 1

- Bonus part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The council chamber is cold, the stone walls adorned with banners of House Targaryen, their crimson and black fabric swaying lightly in the draft. The weight of history presses down upon you, the ancient stones whispering secrets of kings and conquerors. You stand at the edge of the chamber, watching Rhaenyra from beneath the hood of your cloak. The lords seated around the table glance at you uneasily, their gazes lingering too long, discomfort plain in their eyes. You are a foreigner, an anomaly, a reminder of tales and nightmares they would rather forget.

Rhaenyra, the Queen, sits at the head of the table, her presence commanding even as shadows darken the skin beneath her eyes. She’s been restless since Daemon left for Harrenhal, pacing the halls of Dragonstone like a caged beast. Now, she listens as her advisors bicker, her expression tight, her gaze distant. They speak of the war, of the blood that’s already been spilled, and the blood that will flow if they do not act.

Alfred Broome, his voice tinged with frustration, slams his fist on the table. “We cannot continue to sit idle, Your Grace. The Greens gain more ground with each passing day! Aemond’s attack on Storm’s End—”

“—was an act of war,” interrupts Lord Celtigar, his tone measured but firm. “They have already crossed the line.”

“And yet we remain here, waiting!” Broome snaps, glaring at the others. “Waiting for what? A miracle? A sign from the gods? Aemond tried to kill Prince Lucerys, and still, we do nothing.”

You watch as Rhaenyra’s knuckles whiten, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair. Her grief is palpable, a dark cloud that has yet to lift since news of Lucerys’ narrow escape reached her. But she remains silent, her eyes flickering with a storm of emotions she refuses to let loose before these men.

It’s then that you decide to speak, your voice low, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Action without strategy is a fool’s errand, Lord Broome. Perhaps you are eager to throw away lives in a show of haste, but the Queen’s duty is to her people, not to your impatience.”

The lords turn to you, their eyes narrowing, some in suspicion, others in outright disdain. You meet their stares unflinchingly, the cold fire of your homeland reflected in your gaze. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword—a sword older than any of them, a relic of a time when the world was shaped by fire and blood, but not by dragons alone.

Broome sneers, his lip curling. “And what would a foreigner know of our wars? Of our dragons?”

More than you could ever understand, you think, but do not say aloud. Instead, you take a step forward, the shadow of your Banshee—your mount, your companion, and your weapon—seeming to loom behind you, though it remains far from these walls. The lords shift uncomfortably as if sensing its presence. They fear it, as they should.

“I know,” you say, your voice steady, “that Aemond did more than just attack Storm’s End. He was driven away. Chased off by something he did not expect, and that something was me. You may not trust my motives, but understand this: I have chosen to stand with the Queen, to see balance preserved in Westeros. You would do well to heed her wisdom and not let your fear cloud your judgment.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours across the table, and for a moment, the storm within her clears. There is gratitude there, and something else—something that has lingered between you since the night you arrived at Dragonstone, the night you saved her son. The pull between you is undeniable, a silent promise that neither of you has yet dared to speak aloud. But in her gaze, you see it as clearly as the flames of a dragon’s breath.

Lord Celtigar clears his throat, cutting through the tension. “The Lady Y/N speaks true. We cannot act rashly. The Greens expect us to strike without thought. We must outmaneuver them, not merely meet them on the field of battle.”

The room falls silent, the lords exchanging glances. Broome’s scowl deepens, but he holds his tongue, his eyes flickering to Rhaenyra, who now seems more resolute.

Rhaenyra straightens in her seat, the weight of the crown evident on her shoulders but her voice strong. “We will act, but we will act wisely. The Greens will not find us easy prey. We will not fall into their traps, nor will we be goaded into hasty decisions. Lord Celtigar, begin preparations for the fleet. We’ll strike where they least expect it. And Lord Broome,” she adds, her gaze hardening, “you will ensure that our forces are ready when the time comes.”

Broome stiffens but nods, his anger barely concealed. “As you command, Your Grace.”

The council continues, the lords discussing strategy, but your attention drifts to Rhaenyra. The tension in her shoulders has eased slightly, but the burden she carries is still heavy. You find yourself stepping closer, a silent offering of support that she acknowledges with a slight nod, a flicker of something warm in her eyes as she turns back to the map spread out before her.

Later, when the council disperses, and the lords retreat to their chambers, you linger. The chamber is quiet now, the echo of the lords' voices fading into the stone. Rhaenyra stands by the hearth, staring into the flames, her thoughts far away. You approach her, the weight of your sword still at your side, a constant reminder of who you are and what you represent.

“You were right to keep a level head,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence. “They do not understand the full scope of what we face.”

She turns to you, the firelight casting her features in a warm glow. For a moment, she looks younger, almost fragile, but then her eyes meet yours, and the steel within her is evident once more. “It is difficult,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “To know when to strike, and when to hold back. But with Daemon gone, I must be even more cautious. I cannot afford to lose another child… or more allies.”

“You won’t,” you reply, your voice firm. “Not while I’m here.”

A small, wry smile tugs at her lips. “I am grateful for that, Y/N. More than you know.”

The air between you shifts, charged with the unspoken words that neither of you dare to voice, not here, not now. But the promise remains, woven into the fabric of your alliance, and something deeper, something personal.

You reach out, your hand brushing against hers—a fleeting touch that sends a jolt through you both. Rhaenyra doesn’t pull away, her fingers curling slightly, as if to hold onto the warmth you offer. For a brief moment, the weight of the crown, the war, the bloodshed all fades, leaving just the two of you standing by the fire, bound by something stronger than duty.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs, her voice soft, vulnerable in a way you’ve never heard before. “Just a little longer.”

You nod, your hand gently clasping hers, the two of you standing side by side as the fire crackles softly in the hearth, the flames a quiet witness to the bond growing between you.

The wind howls through the trees, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver down your spine. The forest is dense, the shadows long as dusk begins to settle over the land. You stand alone in a clearing, your cloak billowing around you like a dark shadow, the hilt of your ancient sword gleaming faintly in the dim light. The ground beneath your feet is soft, the earth freshly disturbed by the recent passage of men and horses—Ser Criston Cole’s forces, on their way to seize Duskendale for the Greens.

The quiet of the forest is broken by the distant sound of hooves, growing louder with each passing moment. You remain still, your gaze fixed on the treeline as they emerge—riders clad in armor, their banners snapping in the wind. At their head rides Ser Criston Cole himself, his face set in a stern mask, followed closely by Ser Gwayne Hightower and several dozen men-at-arms. They slow as they approach, their horses snorting and stamping as they take in your solitary figure.

The men spread out in a semicircle, surrounding you, their weapons at the ready. Ser Criston rides closer, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your appearance. The tales of your deeds have reached his ears, no doubt—whispers of a foreigner with an ancient sword, a beast that haunts the skies, and the power to make even dragons flee. But it’s clear he does not yet understand the full measure of what stands before him.

“Who are you to stand in our path?” Criston’s voice is hard, commanding, as if the answer to his question will determine whether you live or die.

You don’t flinch under his scrutiny, your voice calm as you reply, “I am Y/N. I have come to give you a chance, Ser Criston. Turn back now, and you may yet live to see another day.”

A murmur ripples through the men, some of them exchanging uneasy glances. They’ve heard the tales too, and the sight of you standing alone, unafraid, seems to unsettle them. But Criston is unmoved, his expression hardening as he spurs his horse closer, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“You expect me to turn tail at the sight of a woman?” He sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. “You may have frightened Aemond, but I am no craven boy. I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, sworn to protect the true king. Step aside, or I will cut you down where you stand.”

His men shift in their saddles, emboldened by their commander’s bravado. Ser Gwayne smirks, drawing his sword, the blade catching the dying light of the sun. “It would be wise to heed the Commander’s words, foreigner. You are far from home and outnumbered.”

You remain still, your expression unreadable, the forest around you eerily silent. The air grows colder, the breeze carrying the scent of earth and leaves. You speak again, your voice carrying an edge of steel. “This is your final warning, Ser Criston. I am not here to play games, nor am I here to waste lives. Turn back, or face the consequences.”

Criston’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly worn thin. He raises his sword, the motion sharp and decisive. “Enough of this. Men, bring me her head.”

The order is given, and the men begin to close in around you, their horses snorting, the sound of metal clinking as they draw their weapons. You don’t move, your hand resting lightly on the hilt of your sword, the weight of it familiar and comforting.

As the first rider approaches, sword raised high, you draw your blade with a fluid motion, the ancient steel singing as it cuts through the air. The rider barely has time to react before your sword meets his, the force of the blow sending a shockwave up his arm. His eyes widen in surprise, and in that moment of hesitation, you twist your blade, disarming him with a swift, practiced movement.

He falls from his horse with a cry, his weapon clattering to the ground. The other men hesitate, clearly not expecting such a swift and effortless display. But Criston’s voice rings out, cold and commanding. “Press the attack! She’s but one woman!”

But you are not just one woman. You are Y/N, the last of the Dragonslayers. And this is not your first battle.They charge at you, swords flashing in the dim light, but you are ready. Your movements are a blur, each strike precise, each parry executed with lethal grace. One by one, the riders fall, unhorsed by the skill of your blade or the sheer power behind your strikes. The clearing becomes a battlefield, the air filled with the clash of steel and the cries of men.

In the chaos, you catch sight of Ser Gwayne, his face twisted in anger as he drives his horse towards you. You meet his charge head-on, your swords clashing with a force that reverberates through your arms. He grits his teeth, pushing against you with all his strength, but you hold firm, the ancient power of your blade surging through you.

“You should have listened,” you say, your voice low, as you twist your sword, breaking his stance and sending him reeling. He barely manages to stay in the saddle, his eyes wide with shock as he realizes just how outmatched he is.

“You’re a demon!” he spits, his voice trembling as he regains his balance, but the fear is evident in his eyes.

“No,” you reply, your voice cold, “I am justice.”

With a final, powerful strike, you knock him from his horse, sending him crashing to the ground. He groans, trying to rise, but you place the tip of your sword against his throat, pinning him in place. The other men halt, unsure whether to continue their attack or flee.

Ser Criston watches the scene unfold, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. He dismounts, striding towards you, his sword at the ready. “You think you can best me?” he snarls, raising his weapon.

You turn to face him, your blade still poised at Gwayne’s throat. “I don’t think, Ser Criston. I know.”

Criston lunges at you, his strikes fast and furious, but you are faster. Your swords clash, the sound ringing through the clearing like a bell. He fights with the ferocity of a man with everything to lose, but you match him blow for blow, your movements fluid, almost effortless. He’s strong, but strength alone is not enough.

The battle drags on, but with each passing moment, Criston’s strikes become more desperate, more reckless. He overextends on a particularly vicious swing, and you seize the opportunity. You parry his strike, stepping inside his guard and slashing across his chest. He stumbles back, blood blooming across his white cloak, staining it red.

He grits his teeth, refusing to fall, but the wound has taken its toll. You don’t give him a chance to recover, pressing the attack with a series of swift, precise strikes. He barely manages to parry, each blow pushing him further back until he’s on the defensive, his movements slowing.

Finally, with a powerful upward swing, you knock his sword from his hand, sending it flying across the clearing. He falls to his knees, clutching his bleeding chest, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief.

You stand over him, your sword raised, its tip pointed at his throat. “I warned you,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of inevitability.

Criston glares up at you, defiance still burning in his eyes, but there is also fear—fear of the unknown, of the force that now stands over him. “Kill me, then,” he spits. “But know this: you will never defeat one true king, Aegon.”

You lower your sword slightly, considering him for a moment. “I do not need to defeat your king, Ser Criston. I only need to preserve the balance.”

With that, you withdraw your sword, stepping back. Criston’s eyes widen in surprise, but you give him no time to react. You whistle sharply, and from the shadows of the forest, your Banshee emerges, its massive form blotting out the last of the daylight. The men around you recoil in terror as the creature lets out a bone-chilling shriek, the sound reverberating through the clearing like the cry of a thousand tortured souls.

Criston stares up at the creature, his face drained of all color, and for the first time, you see true fear in his eyes.

“Tell your king,” you say, your voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “that Duskendale is under my protection. And the next time we meet, I will not be so merciful.”

With that, you turn and mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings unfurling as it prepares to take flight. The men watch in stunned silence as you ascend into the sky, the wind whipping around you as your mount carries you away from the clearing and into the night.

Below, the soldiers of the Greens stand frozen, their leader humbled, their will to fight shattered. The tale of what happened in that clearing will spread, carried on the winds of fear, and it will be known that the last of the Dragonslayers walks the earth once more.

The great hall of Dragonstone is quiet as you enter, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. The air is thick with the scent of salt and smoke, the sea and the dragon forges mingling to create an atmosphere that is both heavy and foreboding. Rhaenyra and her council are gathered around the massive oak table at the center of the chamber, the map of Westeros spread out before them. Their faces are drawn, tense with the weight of decisions yet to be made.

You stride forward, the sound of your boots on the stone floor echoing through the chamber. The lords and advisors turn to you, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. You are a mystery to most of them, a shadow in the midst of their struggles, but your presence commands attention.

Rhaenyra looks up from the map, her violet eyes locking onto yours. There is a quiet strength in her gaze, tempered by the grief and burdens she carries. She nods to you, her silent signal for you to speak.

“The Greens will no longer trouble themselves with coastal points, Your Grace,” you begin, your voice steady and clear. “I intercepted Ser Criston Cole’s forces before they could reach Duskendale. They were forced to retreat, and word will spread of their defeat. They will not dare to strike at our shores again, not while I stand with you.”

Murmurs ripple through the council, some lords exchanging glances of relief, others still wary of the enigmatic figure before them. But Rhaenyra’s expression is one of satisfaction, a glimmer of approval in her eyes.

“Well done, Lady Y/N,” she says, her voice carrying the authority of a queen. “You have once again proven your value to our cause.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging her words. “It is my duty, Your Grace.”

The council continues for a while longer, discussions of strategy and the next moves in the war filling the chamber. But you notice that Rhaenyra’s attention drifts back to you frequently, her gaze lingering as if she has something more on her mind. Finally, as the meeting draws to a close, she dismisses her advisors with a wave of her hand.

“Lady Y/N,” she calls, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “A word, if you will.”

You nod, following her as she leads you from the great hall. The corridors of Dragonstone are dimly lit, the stone walls cold and unyielding. Rhaenyra’s pace is slow, measured, as if she is gathering her thoughts. You walk beside her in silence, the only sound the faint echoes of your footsteps.

She leads you to her chambers, a grand room that still manages to feel intimate despite its size. The air is warm here, a stark contrast to the chill of the hallways. A bath is drawn, the steam rising gently from the water, scented with herbs and oils. It’s clear that Rhaenyra sought this moment of respite, a small comfort amidst the storm of war.

She gestures for you to sit by the fire, where a table is set with a decanter of wine and two goblets. “Please, join me,” she says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of something more—curiosity, perhaps, or even a touch of longing.

You take a seat, watching as she pours the wine, the deep red liquid catching the light of the flames. She hands you a goblet, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments. The touch is fleeting, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken.

“I wanted to speak with you, Y/N,” she begins, taking a sip of her wine as she settles into a chair opposite you. “I realize I know so little about you, despite all you’ve done for me. You’ve proven yourself a loyal ally, but there is much I would like to understand. Who are you, truly?”

You swirl the wine in your goblet, considering her question. There is so much to tell, more than could be shared in one evening, or even in a lifetime. But you see the sincerity in her eyes, the genuine desire to know you, not just as a warrior, but as a person.

“I have seen much, Your Grace,” you say slowly, your voice carrying the weight of centuries. “More than most could ever dream or fear. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the death of loved ones, the shifting tides of history. From the brilliant Yo Ti Empire to the shadowed lands of Asshai, to the great wonders beyond the western seas… I have wandered this world longer than I care to remember.”

Rhaenyra listens intently, her eyes wide, a shiver running down her spine at your words. But it is not fear that grips her—it is something else, something that makes her heart quicken, her breath catch.

“How old are you?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she is almost afraid to hear the answer.

You smile faintly, the lines of your face softening as you look into the flames. “Too old, Your Grace. Old enough to have seen the world change many times over. To be bound to a Banshee is a terrible purpose.”

Rhaenyra sits back in her chair, the goblet forgotten in her hand as she takes in the enormity of your words. For a moment, the weight of your age and experience presses down upon her, making her feel small and fleeting in comparison. But then, she realizes something—despite all you have seen, all you have endured, you are here, by her side, choosing to stand with her in this tumultuous time.

She reaches out, her hand resting lightly on yours, her touch warm, grounding. “And yet you have chosen to fight for me, for Westeros. Why?”

You look at her, truly look at her, and see not just a queen burdened by war, but a woman who has suffered, who has loved and lost, and who is determined to protect what remains. “Because, Your Grace, you fight for balance. For the hope that the world might find peace, that the fire of the dragons might warm rather than burn. That is something worth fighting for.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes soften, her heart touched by your words. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, her gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For your honesty, and for your loyalty. It means more to me than I can express.”

The room seems warmer now, the tension of the day melting away as the two of you continue to talk. You share stories of your past, tales of lands and people she can only imagine, and she in turn shares her own hopes and fears, her dreams for her children, for her realm.

As the night deepens, the conversation grows more intimate, the barriers between you falling away. The flickering fire casts a soft glow on Rhaenyra’s face, highlighting the beauty and strength that have drawn you to her from the beginning. And though the specter of war still looms over you both, for this moment, in this room, there is only warmth, only connection.

The wine flows, the stories continue, and as the night wears on, the bond between you and the Black Queen deepens, becoming something more than mere alliance, more than duty.

The night deepens as you and Rhaenyra continue to talk, the warmth between you growing with each passing moment. The wine in your goblets has long since dwindled, but neither of you seems to notice, too absorbed in the quiet intimacy of your conversation. The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the room, but it is the light in Rhaenyra’s eyes that holds your attention.

As the conversation naturally lulls, a silence falls between you—not an awkward one, but rather filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. You notice how Rhaenyra’s gaze occasionally drifts to your lips, how her breath catches slightly when your hands brush. It is a delicate tension, a quiet yearning that neither of you has fully acknowledged until now.

Finally, Rhaenyra breaks the silence, her voice hushed, almost tentative. “Y/N… there is something I have been wanting to do for some time now.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in her tone. “And what might that be, Your Grace?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, instead leaning in closer, her eyes locked onto yours. The distance between you shrinks until you can feel the warmth of her breath against your skin, your hearts beating in tandem. Then, without another word, she closes the remaining distance, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that is soft yet filled with a deep, unspoken desire.

The kiss is tentative at first, testing, but as you respond, it deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Rhaenyra’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while your own hand rests on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her dress. The world outside the room fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in this moment.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s as you take in the reality of what just happened. Rhaenyra’s eyes are dark with desire, her voice a mere whisper as she speaks. “Join me… in the bath.”

There is no hesitation in your response, only a quiet nod of agreement. You both rise from your seats, the space between you charged with anticipation. Rhaenyra’s hand slips into yours, leading you toward the bath that still steams softly in the corner of the room. The heat from the water fills the space, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

Standing beside the bath, you turn to face each other, the moment heavy with significance. Slowly, reverently, you begin to undress one another, your hands moving with a gentle purpose. Rhaenyra’s fingers trace the edges of your cloak, slipping it from your shoulders, while your own hands find the laces of her dress, loosening them with deliberate care. Each piece of clothing falls to the floor with a whisper, leaving you both bared to each other, not just in body, but in soul.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sweeps over you, appreciation and desire evident in her eyes. She reaches out, her hand trembling slightly as she brushes a lock of hair from your face, her touch tender, almost reverent. “You are… beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

You smile softly, your own hand coming up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing against her skin. “As are you, Rhaenyra. You are radiant.”

There is no more need for words as you step into the bath together, the water embracing you both in its warmth. You sink into the water, Rhaenyra following, her body pressing against yours as you both settle into the comfort of the bath. The heat of the water contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening every sensation.

You share another kiss, this one slower, more languid, as if savoring each moment. Your hands begin to explore one another’s bodies, tracing the curves and lines with a tenderness that belies the passion simmering beneath the surface. You feel the strength in her arms, the softness of her skin, and the way her body trembles under your touch.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitches as your hand moves lower, finding the heat of her womanhood. She mirrors your movement, her fingers slipping between your thighs with a surety that makes you shudder. The contact is electric, sending ripples of pleasure through both of you. The world narrows to the sensation of her touch, the way her breath mingles with yours, the warmth of the water lapping at your bodies.

There is a rhythm to your movements, a dance of desire and affection that grows more intense with each passing second. Rhaenyra’s moans mix with your own, her voice breathy and desperate as she clings to you, her hips moving in time with your hand. The water sloshes gently around you, the only witness to this intimate exchange.

As the pressure builds within you both, the touches grow more urgent, the kisses more fervent. Rhaenyra’s hand tightens on your shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she reaches the edge. You follow her soon after, your bodies trembling together as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you both breathless, your hearts pounding in the aftermath.

For a moment, there is only the sound of your breathing, the gentle lap of the water, and the warmth of Rhaenyra’s body pressed against yours. Slowly, the intensity of the moment ebbs away, leaving behind a deep, abiding connection.

Rhaenyra leans her head against your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck. “That was… incredible,” she whispers, her voice still tinged with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You smile, your hand gently stroking her back as you hold her close. “It was,” you agree softly, feeling a profound sense of contentment.

The two of you remain like that for some time, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies. There is a gentle, unspoken understanding between you now, a bond forged not just by passion but by mutual respect and deepening affection.

As the water begins to cool, Rhaenyra lifts her head, looking into your eyes with a soft smile. “Let’s dry off and rest,” she suggests, her voice gentle. “There is much we still need to talk about… but for now, I just want to be close to you.”

You nod, helping her out of the bath and wrapping yourselves in the towels that were left nearby. As you dry each other off, the touches are more tender, more affectionate, than before. There is no rush, no urgency—only the simple pleasure of being together.

Once dry, you both slip into the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin. Rhaenyra curls up beside you, her head resting on your chest, her hand lightly tracing patterns on your skin. You hold her close, your own hand gently stroking her hair, the intimacy of the moment filling you both with a deep sense of peace.

“Tell me more about your journeys,” Rhaenyra murmurs, her voice drowsy as sleep begins to tug at her.

“Of course,” you reply softly, your voice soothing as you begin to share more tales of distant lands and ancient times. Rhaenyra listens, her breathing slowing as she drifts off, content in your embrace.

As she falls asleep, you continue to hold her, your own eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. But before you succumb to sleep, you take a moment to appreciate the warmth of her body against yours, the comfort of her presence. 

Together, in the quiet of the night, you both find rest, the bond between you stronger than ever before.

The dawn is just breaking over Dragonstone, casting a pale golden light across the harbor. The sea is calm, the waters reflecting the first light of day like molten glass. The ships are ready, their sails furled and waiting for the wind to carry them across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenyra stands on the dock, her expression stern, though her heart is heavy. The decision to send her children away, to safety in Pentos, has not come easily. Aegon and Viserys cling to her skirts, their young faces filled with confusion and fear, while Lucerys stands beside her, trying to put on a brave face for his younger brothers.

Jacaerys, their eldest, stands a short distance away, his jaw set in determination, though there is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He is prepared to escort his brothers, to protect them as best he can, but the weight of responsibility is a heavy burden on such young shoulders.

Rhaenyra kneels to embrace her children, whispering words of comfort and love, even as her heart aches with the knowledge that she may not see them again for a long time—if ever. As she stands and turns to Jace, a shadow passes over the group. She looks up, expecting to see a cloud or a bird, but instead, it is you, descending from the sky on your Banshee, the creature’s leathery wings creating a powerful downdraft as it lands gracefully on the docks.

You dismount with practiced ease, your cloak billowing around you as you stride toward the group. The lords and soldiers present step back instinctively, the stories of your deeds still fresh in their minds. Jacaerys stiffens as you approach, sensing that something is about to change.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra greets you, her voice laced with surprise but also a trace of relief. “You’ve come to see them off?”

You nod, but your gaze is focused on Jacaerys, who meets your eyes with a mixture of respect and defiance. “No, Your Grace,” you say calmly, “I’ve come to take Prince's place.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrows in confusion, and Jace steps forward, his voice firm but uncertain. “But Mother has tasked me with escorting my brothers. I can’t leave them to face this journey alone.”

“You won’t be leaving them alone, Jace,” you reply, your tone gentle but unyielding. “But your place is here, by your mother’s side. She needs you now more than ever.”

Jace opens his mouth to protest, but you raise a hand, silencing him. “You won’t make it past the Gullet,” you continue, your eyes narrowing slightly as you speak. “On my last flight, I saw ships from the Free Cities approaching fast, likely in league with the Greens. They will be waiting for you, and you will not have the strength to fight them off. But I can.”

The gravity of your words sinks in, and Rhaenyra’s hand instinctively tightens on Jace’s arm. The boy hesitates, torn between his duty to his brothers and the growing realization that you speak the truth.

Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts from her son to you, her eyes searching yours. There is a deep understanding between you, born of the time you have spent together, the shared battles, and the nights spent in quiet conversation. She knows you too well, and she can sense what you are not saying.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice low and laden with concern. “You intend to go alone, don’t you?”

You nod slowly, the sadness in your eyes betraying what you cannot bring yourself to say outright. “This is something I must do, Rhaenyra. It is time for me to fulfill my calling, to see this through to the end.”

“No,” Rhaenyra says firmly, shaking her head as she steps closer to you. “You are not just an ally, Y/N. You are more than that. You have become… indispensable to me, to us. I cannot let you go, not like this.”

You offer her a sad smile, one that speaks of centuries of experience, of knowing when a path must be walked alone. “I have only ever obeyed one master, Rhaenyra,” you say softly, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. “And that is my calling. This is something I must do, for myself, and for those who have gone before me. My time here is coming to an end, and it is time for me to go home.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she blinks them away, her voice breaking as she speaks. “Will I ever see you again?”

You take a deep breath, your gaze lifting to the sky, where the first stars of evening are beginning to twinkle faintly, though the sun has barely risen. “I will be watching over you every night, Rhaenyra,” you reply, your voice tender and filled with an unspoken promise. “Whenever you look up at the stars, know that I am there, looking at you.”

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the weight of the world hanging in the air. Rhaenyra reaches up, placing her hand over yours where it rests against her cheek, holding on to the warmth of your touch as if she could somehow keep you with her.

“Then promise me,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “I promise I will do everything in my power to return,” you say, your voice filled with the sincerity of your oath. But there is something unspoken in your words, a truth that both of you know but do not want to acknowledge—that sometimes, not all promises can be kept.

Rhaenyra steps back reluctantly, releasing your hand, her eyes never leaving yours. She nods, accepting your words even as her heart rebels against them. “Go, then,” she says, her voice filled with the strength of a queen but the sorrow of a woman who knows she may be losing someone dear. “But remember that you have a place here, with us, with me. And if you can… come back to it.”

You bow your head slightly in acknowledgment, your expression one of quiet resolve. “Take care of your family, Rhaenyra,” you say, turning to the children, your eyes lingering on Jacaerys for a moment. “And remember what I’ve taught you.”

With that, you mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings stretching out in preparation for flight. You glance back at Rhaenyra one last time, committing her face to memory—the strength in her eyes, the sadness in her smile—before turning your gaze forward, to the horizon where your destiny awaits.

The Banshee’s powerful wings beat the air as you take off, soaring into the sky above Dragonstone. Below, you see Rhaenyra and her children watching, growing smaller and smaller as you climb higher into the sky. The wind rushes past you, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the distant promise of what is to come.

As the island fades into the distance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. You have made your choice, and it is the right one. 

And somewhere below, on the shores of Dragonstone, a queen stands alone, her gaze lifted to the heavens, searching the skies for a glimpse of the one she has come to care for more than she ever thought possible. As the stars begin to emerge, she knows that, wherever you are, you are looking at them too, and perhaps, just perhaps, you will find your way back to her, to the home you have both made together.

But for now, all she can do is wait, and hope, and hold on to the memory of your final kiss, a promise that will echo in her heart for as long as she lives.

Years have passed, and the Red Keep stands tall against the night sky, its ancient stones bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The castle, once a symbol of unyielding strength, now bears the weight of countless battles, of loss and victory, of the bloodshed that shaped the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, despite the passage of time, one constant remains: the stars, ever-present, watching over the realm with a silent, timeless gaze.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, now older and wearier, stands alone on the balcony of her chambers. The years have etched lines of sorrow and wisdom onto her face, and her once fiery spirit has been tempered by the trials she has endured. Her long silver hair, once a brilliant cascade, now carries strands of white, a testament to the time that has passed and the burdens she has carried. She wraps her cloak tightly around her shoulders, shielding herself from the cool night breeze that whispers through the Red Keep.

Her gaze is fixed on the sky, on the stars that glitter like diamonds against the velvety darkness. The constellations are familiar to her, their patterns etched into her memory from countless nights spent searching them for solace, for answers, for a glimpse of the past. The night is clear, the sky vast and endless, and yet Rhaenyra feels a deep, aching loneliness that even the stars cannot fill.

She lifts her chin slightly, her eyes tracing the paths of the stars as they twinkle serenely above. It has become a ritual of sorts, this nightly vigil, a way to connect with something greater than herself, to find comfort in the constancy of the heavens when everything else has changed.

But tonight, the stars seem more distant than ever.

She remembers those who have been lost to the ravages of time and war—her children, her loved ones, and the countless souls who once stood beside her. She remembers the faces of those who are no longer here, their voices now echoes in her memory. And among those memories, one stands out more vividly than the rest.

It has been years since you left her, years since you took flight from Dragonstone, vowing to protect her children, to do what needed to be done. You had promised to look after them, to see them safely to the other side of the Narrow Sea. And you had promised, in your own way, to return—to find your way back to her, to the place you both shared.

But you never did.

Rhaenyra’s heart tightens at the thought, a pang of sorrow so deep it threatens to overwhelm her. She has long since stopped searching the skies for your return, knowing deep down that you had fulfilled your destiny, whatever it may have been, and that she would never see you again. And yet, on nights like this, when the stars are particularly bright, she can’t help but wonder if somewhere, in some distant part of the world, you are still watching over her, as you had promised.

She leans against the cold stone of the balcony, her hands resting on the worn edges, her gaze unfaltering. The years have taken so much from her, but the memory of you remains, as vivid as the night you shared on Dragonstone, as real as the last kiss you gave her before you took to the skies. It is a memory she holds close, a fragment of warmth in a world that has grown increasingly colder.

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the leaves of the trees far below, carrying with it the faintest scent of the sea. It is a reminder of a time long past, of a love that was as fleeting as it was profound. Rhaenyra closes her eyes for a moment, letting the wind brush against her face, imagining it is your touch, soft and comforting, as it once was.

But when she opens her eyes, the night remains as it was, unchanged, the stars twinkling impassively above. She takes a deep breath, the weight of the years pressing down on her, and yet, there is a certain peace that comes with it. She knows that you are out there, somewhere beyond the reach of mortal hands, and that perhaps, in your own way, you are still watching over her.

Rhaenyra lifts her hand, as if to touch the stars, her fingers stretching out toward the endless sky. It is a futile gesture, and she knows it, but it brings her a small measure of comfort nonetheless. She lets her hand fall back to her side, her gaze lingering on the stars for a moment longer before she turns away, retreating into the warmth of her chambers.

As she closes the balcony doors behind her, shutting out the chill of the night, Rhaenyra takes one last look at the sky. The stars continue to shine, distant and unwavering, and she knows that they will be there long after she is gone, just as they were before she was born. They are a reminder of the constancy of the universe, of the passage of time, and of the fleeting nature of life.

And as she steps back into the familiar confines of her room, she carries with her the memory of you—of the love that once was, of the promises made beneath the stars, and of the bittersweet knowledge that some things are not meant to last forever.

But even in that knowledge, there is a certain beauty, a quiet acceptance. For Rhaenyra knows that, in the end, it is not the length of time that matters, but the depth of the moments shared. And though you are gone, the memory of those moments remains, a light in the darkness, a star in the sky, guiding her even now.

And so, she closes her eyes, allowing herself to rest, knowing that, wherever you are, a part of you is still with her, in the stars above, in the memories you left behind, and in the love that will never fade, no matter how many years pass.

[heartfullofleeches]

I've really been missing ff reader interacting with the bathroom succubus, they were a quick favourite of mine. Maybe like the reader getting bored and braiding their hair.

Standing outside the smoldering remains of the kitchen, your eyes gradually drift in the direction of your coworker as the flames rage on within the building. Screams of the firemen sent to take care of the fire drown beneath the groan and snap of wood. You probably could've gone the rest of your life without learning ninety percent of the repairs in that building were at the sacrifice of human flesh, but same as with the rest of the horrors you witness you shove it to the back of your mind until it inevitably haunts your nightmares.

"Whelp.... There goes my weekend. Lambchop will be fine in the freezer, but I know they're worried sick about me. Anyway, I'd say it'll be about...." You gadge the time with your hand, measuring the minutes it takes for human bone to fully merge with the floorboards. "Ten....fifteen minutes before things are back to normal. Can you do that thing you do with your hair so I can braid it?"

"You mean this?"

The succubus combs her fingers through her hair, the messy, uneven ends of her pixie cut growing longer, finer with each stroke. Her hair stops at the small of her back by the time she's finished, the dark roots of her natural hair color peaking from the same blonde dye still stain the bathroom walls.

"Why do you even dye your hair when you can change your hair and eye color whenever you want?"

"Sometimes it changes just from me thinking about a color. Gave an old guy a heart attack when my hair turned the same shade of red as your hat. It was kinda funny at the time, but then he started haunting the bathroom which is my territory so I had to get rid of him."

"Are you talking about David? Aw, I kinda liked that guy... He was going to teach me how to do my taxes. Sit down here, please."

Pointing down at the only fresh plot of grass this parking lot had to offer, you plop down beside the succubus as she sits with her legs tucked under her. Even sitting down she was a few inches taller than you. Like other parts of her, her height fluctuated depending on the day and her mood. You prop yourself up on your knees as you part her hair in three sections, weaving one over the other as she fishes her phone out of her pocket.

The succubus pretends to check through her messages, your eyes meeting every single time she opens the camera to peer over her shoulder. Staring down at her phone, you catch a glimpse of the stars. It isn't every night you pay attention to what's up there.

"This is nice...."

"Yeah....." The succubus positions an elbow on your knee - the shutter of a camera not going unnoticed as you look up at the night sky. Your hands function on autopilot, threading her hair down the curve of her spine. You can make out the tips of her small horns at this angle, hidden beneath the fluff of her curls.

"Hey, Lye...."

"Yeah?"

"You know you don't have to burn down the kitchen so I'll spend time with you, right?"

"Yeahhhhh, but your break wasn't for another hour. I needed my you time now."

"....Fair point."

[didherodown]

Okay so I dont think I've ever done this before, so here it goes

*ehem*

didherodown's Phandom fanfic recs

(if the author has a tumblr I tagged them :) )

*quick note, most of these are ao3, however some of them are ff net*

Ghosts in the Closet by @myaibou

an excellent post cannon fic, that deals with grown-up Danny and his family and everything slowly falling apart

Cold Hands by @tourettesdog

a DP x DC of Danny/Tim, reveal fic. short and sweet (with a lil trama and angst dashed in there)

Face to Face by @dp-marvel94

Danny gets separated by the ghost catcher and has to deal with the side effects of being literally split in two

Treading Water by @breynekai-tfc

a mer!danny fic, you don't understand guys this is soooooooooo amazingly done

Heroes About by @healthysharkshealthyocean

a DP x Marvel crossover that features Spiderman, Deadpool and of course, Danny, based on the comics by @the-stove-is-on-fire

Vacation Crashers by @impyssadobsessions

a DP x DC in which the Fentons are camping when Batman literally crashes onto the scene

Shift by @captain-ozone

AU where the Fentons are Chicago-based, and everything up to the Pariah Dark incident happens there, but after the battle (and an unwilling identity reveal) the "thin" spot in the ghost zone shifts to Amity Park, and the Fentons move there to deal with the ghosts, and Danny meets Sam and Tucker for the first time

Phantom of Truth by @haikujitsu

a classic Danny is captured by the GIW, and who do they get to study this high-level specimen? The leading Doctor in her field Madeline Fenton (mind the tags, it's a dark one!)

Shadow of a Doubt by Haiju

a direct sequel to Phantom of Truth

Trust Your Instincts by @peachdoxie

in which someone is placing ectoplasmic bombs around the city, and Maddie turns to an unlikely ally to figure out what exactly is happening

the all too literal ghosts of your past by @glowstick-blood

in which adult Danny gets shunted back in time to exactly one week before the portal accident (dun dun dunnnnnnn)

Maybe We'll Find Each Other by DP_Marvel94

a one-shot of full ghost Danny getting turned half-human by the portal opening

Robin's Egg by @arzuera

a DP x DC in which Damiean while on patrol finds an injured Danny about to retreat into his core, and agrees to keep his core safe

Exposed by ADraconicScribe

in which someone anonymously submits a story to the local news that the ghost boy is in fact only half ghost, and is hiding among the students at casper high

Danny Phantom and Astro Boy Crossover By: Jaylina

as the title suggests, its a DP x Astro Boy crossover. There have been odd tears appearing in the ghost zone, and Danny gets sucked into one and trapped in another dimension where the ghosts have been taking over robots and wrecking havoc (I know this one is a lil niche, but I love it so much I had to include it)

Roughing It By: Haiju

Danny and Maddie go camping, but after a ghost attack (and some Vlad shenanigans) Danny is stuck in ghost form, Maddie is injured and they find themselves in a tenuis alliance

[city-tickles]

Hi!

Here a couple of new tickle stories from parties I have gone to in NYC. This one has trans ff/m tickling, m/ff tickling and ff/m tickling!

A few weeks ago, I went to another kink party, wearing this shirt in an attempt to get more attention.

It worked because a nice trans couple came up to me and asked if I wanted to session. I agreed and we went over to the rack that looks like this:

I always wanted to try that rack and it did not disappoint. The couple spent about 20 minutes scribbling and tickling all over, mostly my upper body. It was a nice contrast since one of them had sharper nails and the other had softer nails. So my body did not know what to do sometimes. The TicklingDuck device came out again as well, but this time it was used a lot on my neck. I have never been tickled on my neck to that degree so it was a lot of laughing and squirming but there was no place for me to go, so they just went for it. They were also great teasers, talking about how much I love this because I was laughing so much 😂

After that, I ran into them a couple more times and even watched their own couple tickling session but we never got a chance to play more that evening.

Story 2:

I went to a bi-weekly foot party that I last went to in the summer. During that time I met one of the models who absolutely loved tickling.

I got there late and it was very hot and crowded. To break some ice, I session with one girl who isn't super ticklish on her feet at all but is on her stomach so I did a lot of tummy and side tickles to her. After her, I ended up talking to another girl, a tall, blonde woman, about tickling and then my girl from last time came out. I told her that I was gonna session with the blonde and then we can play after. The summer girl asks if I want to do both at the same time and a light bulb just went off!

I decide to session with both at the same time. unfortunately it's real crowded tonight but we managed to find room. It’s a little awkward since we are on couches and behind protection, but right next to you is someone else playing. You just have to block it out and focus on your fun.

One awkward part that happened is that these parties have curtain setups to "protect you" and there was a pause because one of the curtains dropped, so I was def spotted just in stocks, being tickled. I also felt a little bad because we're next to other people playing and I'm sure the guy who is doing foot worship was not here to see my (well taken care of) feet haha but you just roll with it

Initially we take turns tickling each other tickle fight style. Summer tickles me then Blonde or I get her and Blonde gets us both. I was in the middle so they would gang up on me a bit tickling all over my sides.

I asked if I could use my stocks, which they were on board with. So BOTH of their feet are locked in the sticks while they lay back and I do my best to tickle both of them at the same time or switch off. It's the closest I ever felt to being in a video 😂.

I would tickle both of their feet if one person's legs and the other person's foot or stretch myself out as much as I could to get their upper bodies, or get one then go after the other. They would even tickle each other in the stocks. I also got to use the vibration device from tickling duck It was great! I did that for maybe 20 minutes then asked if I could lee

So they have me lay back, put my feet in the stocks, have me put on a blindfold I bought with me, then start to go to down. They're all over my feet with fingers or feathers or the device, or a mix of both. One moment it was a feather, while someone was using their fingers. While I'm laughing the whole time. Then they would switch off with one person on my feet and the other person on my sides and tummy. Later, they had me hold my arms up while one held my arms down and the other attacked my armpits or sides. The only drawback was sometime the nails were sharp and they hurt but it was more good than bad. That happened for about another 20 minutes until I actually gave up (partially cause I knew this would cost so much money)

The cherry on top was the teasing and also lack of teasing. One moment I can hear them having just a regular conversation while tickling me, which was almost worse because they can talk about tv and torture me at the same time 😂 Other times they would tease me saying he’s giggling so much and laughing so hard. They also would say things like “Aww. We could tell he needed this today” even though they were teasing, they were right. I was having a rough couple of days so I did need that laugh.

But overall, it was awesome and worth the money. I was like actually tired afterwards. It’s rare that I have get worn out from tickling but they made it happen lol

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed these stories!

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 6

chapter 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 7

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after months in the wilderness, you finally arrive at chicago. adapting to this new life has its cons, but also its perks. joel's birthday is around the corner, and you have planned for a couple of things you hope he likes...

a/n: hiya! here's chapter six!! it's packed with a bit of everything, especially drama because why not? 🤷 i want to thank you all ― i just realised that the first 3 chapters have hit over 100 notes each! i'm so damn grateful to all of you, honestly. as much as i'm writing for myself, i'm loving how hooked some of you are with this story 😳 also, i'd like to apologise in advance if i have butchered chicago's layout or its history, i did try my best doing some research. as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

warnings: 18+, mdni. mention of Sarah's death. angst. fluff. filthy smut (don't you know me by now?). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). irresponsible use of contraception (don't do that). consensual somnophilia. dry humping. unprotected piv. masturbation (m and f). creampie. pussy slapping. fisting. squirting. cum play. a bit of assplay. makeup sex. sir kink. “bar” fight. alcohol consumption. blood. stabbing. swear words. mention of past racist events and the precursor to the chicago race riot of 1919. soft!dom!joel. a bit of aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is now 37 (🎉!). no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~6.9k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz

Chicago was definitely not what you had expected at all. Shit had gone down really badly in this place. It took you a week to cross the southwest area, keeping close to Interstate 55 as a reference. The worst you had seen was Chicago Midway International Airport. Airplanes had crashed on the runway, the esplanade was a makeshift cemetery even almost a year after Outbreak Day. Bodies piled on top of each other, fires would break out in the adjacent buildings. The control tower was completely dilapidated. And the grounds were full of clickers.

Tommy, Joel and you made it through the worst neighbourhoods. As you covered more miles, Tommy and Joel realised that this had not been the best idea. But you were already there, so the best option was to move forward. You all had to defend yourselves, and each other. Although the Miller brothers took out many attackers ―humans and infected alike―, you also had your good share of action. You didn’t like it, but you were good at shooting. Your clothes were stained with blood and sweat. You endured, and you survived. That was what mattered.

The whole city was in shambles, divided by two different groups: the government and the rebels. The government held the north side of the Chicago River, from River North Gallery District all the way to Old Town ― basically everything to the east of Interstate 90. The rebels, on the other hand, controlled the south ― all the movable bridges along the whole Wacker Drive, from New Eastside to Chinatown. Anything further south or north, and between Interstates 55 and 90, from Little Village to Naperville, was no man’s land.

You ended up on the rebels’ side randomly. Tommy was not very happy about it, blaming the communists for overpowering the government, but it wasn’t like you had a choice. If you tried to cross any bridge to go northwards, you would be shot at with no warning. From both sides.

It took a while to convince the Rioters ― that was how the rebels called themselves. Two weeks later, on the 20th of August, you were given a place to stay near the Art Institute of Chicago, which was also the operations base. You did try to integrate yourself in this society as you knew it was better to have more friends than foes. The Millers, however, kept to themselves ― Joel more than Tommy, as you had expected. No surprises there.

The flat you were in was in urgent need of repairs but was better than sleeping rough. You and Joel fixed as many things as you both could, while Tommy took cleaning very seriously. It wasn’t much, but it was the place you called home for the last month. The only downside was that it only had two bedrooms, so Joel and you sadly had to share the only double bed available, while Tommy had his own room.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself ― the last four weeks had been pure bliss in a sense. Waking up every day besides Joel had become a delightful habit. He had awakened you many a times either in the middle of the night or in the early morning to give him a hand. Literally. And you had done exactly the same thing when you had needed it. You were sure Tommy was sick and tired of you two, but you didn’t care.

You stretched out, still lying in bed. The morning light had not come through the curtains yet, but it soon would. You rubbed your eyes and then let your arms drop to your sides dramatically. You were not a morning person, but your sleeping schedule was all fucked up. You rolled to your other side in an attempt to get comfortable.

Joel was sleeping on his right side. You had noticed he usually did in the same position. When you had asked him why, he had explained his hearing in his right ear was messed up since his suicide attempt. You wished you could have been faster that day to prevent the gun from going off. Ah, the regrets you both had…

His back was towards you, him facing the door. Despite the repairs you all had done to the flat, it was still not the safest. Every night one of you would make sure all locks were engaged and would bar the front door. A few days ago, someone attempted to break in. Since then, all of you would sleep with a firearm nearby.

Today was Sunday ― 26th of September. Which meant it was Joel’s birthday, as well as the first anniversary of Outbreak Day. The anniversary of Sarah's death would be tomorrow too. You had tried to talk to Joel about today, but he didn’t seem to be interested in celebrating at all, which you completely understood. As much as you wanted to do something, you respected his decision. You had only planned for a couple of low-key things, which you hoped he wouldn’t mind.

He had fallen asleep only with his briefs on, the bedsheet draping around his legs. You couldn’t see, but you were damn sure he had his arms crossed at his chest, always on guard. Your eyes dwelled on his upper body, two perfect dimples on his lower back. His shoulders were broad and toned, his waist smaller. He was not the most muscular guy you had ever seen, but he was perfect the way he was. His calloused hands had shown you multiple times how good he was for you, despite what he thought of himself.

You couldn’t resist, your mouth dry. Your fingertips traced the curve of his neck, then his left shoulder down to his elbow. Your hand caressed his left hip and slipped down to his front, following his V line. Your fingers touched the elastic of his briefs ― and something else.

You gulped down the knot in your throat, your heart beating harder in your chest, when your fingertips brushed over the damp tip of his cock. Joel’s morning wood was so prominent, his glans had slipped out of his underwear and was showing. You wetted your lips as you stroked him carefully. A deep, almost guttural growl flowed from Joel’s chest.

You got closer to him in bed, your nipples grazing the skin on his back even through your pyjamas. It probably wasn’t the best time ― you knew he was tired, but you wanted him so badly. Liquid fire was pooling in your furrow, knowing his erection was right there for you to play with.

Your internal battle didn’t last long.

You pulled down his briefs to free his warm dick. You didn’t need to look to know his shaft was resting against his happy trail, the head touching his belly button. With no hesitation, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing him delicately. Then you slid your hand down his meaty column, holding him firmly, in a very slow but strong pump.

He groaned, still asleep as far as you could tell, as you started pumping him ― more heat and excitement gathering in your pussy. You dunked your fingers in your panties, touching yourself. You were already wet, the mere thought of making him yours was enough. You kissed his left shoulder at the same time he uncrossed his arms ― his left hand over yours, feeling the rhythm you were imparting on him.

He was awake.

Joel didn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he was sure it wasn’t this. When he looked down and saw your tiny hand trying to muffle his cock, he closed his eyes with a sigh. That felt damn good. He was knackered after last night’s patrolling shift, but this was exactly what he needed to decompress.

He turned around, his back flat against the uncomfortable mattress. His eyes were pinned on yours, your sweet hand upping the speed. You leaned towards him and invaded his mouth with your devilish tongue. Joel moaned in the middle of the kiss ― his brain completely switched off. He could not think straight when you were handling him like that.

Quickly letting go of his erection and mouth, you got rid of your pyjama shorts and your underwear. Then you doubled down your efforts with the handjob ― his throbbing cock was calling for you. You could see a few drops of precum sliding off his veiny shaft, which you swiftly gathered with your thumb to rub them against his leaking slit. You felt his dick pulsating hard for you ― your cunt palpitating at exactly the same time, anticipating. Your bodies were fully synchronised.

You then climbed on top of him, his balls welcoming the touch from your puffy lips. You rolled your hips against his, looking for that friction you so much loved, and took a deep breath before taking off the top of your pyjamas, throwing it to one side. You bended down, your mouth looking for his, so thirsty.

“Good morning, handsome”, you whispered as a greeting.

“Mhmmm”, was the only thing he managed to hum, sleepy.

You smiled and broke off the contact, straightening your back. His rough hands slid from your knees, across your thighs, to your butt. He clasped your ass cheeks with assertiveness. With no more words than those, you took his steely cock in your hand and lifted your hips. You glided his glans over your damp fold a few times, your cunt beseeching to be stuffed.

You guided his tip to kiss your entrance and descended on his dick slowly, very slowly, the palms of your hands flat against his lower abdomen to steady yourself. You closed your eyes, head tilted backwards, and whined loudly. Each inch was a blessing. Once his cock was entirely inside of you, you peeked back down at him and did a circular motion with your hips. His eyes were so intense you couldn’t look away while you started riding him.

Joel closed his eyes unwillingly when the muscles in his lower belly cramped. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this, so forced himself to open them again ― he loved seeing how the pleasure transformed your beautiful features. Your half-lidded eyes, your lips parted, a river of pearly sweat coming down in between your bosom. Your perfectly round breasts bouncing in front of him. He was a lucky bastard.

He liberated your ass, his hands drifting to your bust, holding your tits. While he kneaded that tender flesh and coddled your nipples, you covered his hands with yours. You were still jumping on top of him, albeit more erratically, as you felt an orgasm hit you with full force. You mewled as your needy pussy discharged the seed of your pleasure all over him, hugging his hard erection, strangling his cock, encouraging him to come with you.

Joel was so damn close to coming, his nuts contracted with equal parts of pain and lust. He could feel your gush soaking his dick. He was about to lose his goddamn mind ― he needed to stop. His hands abandoned your breasts to place them on your butt to help you lift it up, so you would release his cock before it was too late.

“No, it’s okay. Fill me up, please, sir”, you wailed, your palms against his chest, your hips grinding against his.

Joel glimpsed at you with doubt. It was like you could read his mind, because you knew what he was thinking. You smiled softly, your wet pussy palpitating around his cock. You forced your inner walls to contract against him as you leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’ve got the morning after pill. Please, please, Joel, come inside, I beg you. Trust me”, you wept, laying down on top of him.

He thought himself mad for believing you, but he did. Because he was mad for you, regardless of what he tried to convince himself of. He lifted your butt up off his lap with his hands ― with the help of his legs, the heels of his feet against the bedsheets, he thrusted into you like a madman while you remained still on top of him. Drilling your weeping cunt, as hard and fast as he could. He just wanted to know how it felt just once; he wanted you to milk him dry.

Joel fucked you like there was no tomorrow, the room echoing with the squishy sounds and the impact of flesh on flesh. He was fucking you so hard that you came again at the same time he spilled his spent in you ― Joel groaned like you never heard him before. The slick warmth you felt inside made you smile, your face buried in the curve of his neck, your nipples brushing his. With his pulsing dick still inside of you, you bit the skin on his neck, leaving a mark behind.

“Happy birthday, sir”, you whispered in his ear.

That was your gift to him. And to yourself, because you had wanted this from the very first time he impaled you in the forest. You had had to trade a few bits for the morning after pill, but it was worth every single one of them. You felt your cave so clogged with him and his cum, you thought you had descended to hell.

You both stilled, catching your breaths. His dick was still twitching, housed by your greedy, soaked cunt.

A minute later, he sat up on the bed, bit your mouth and lifted your butt up, his cock becoming free. He quickly laid you down in fetal position ― resting on your righthand side, back slightly curved, head bowed, your knees bent touching your breasts. He placed a hand on your left hip and tilted your pelvis a bit forward, so he could inspect your heart-shaped ass and your puffy, reddened pussy framed by your inner thighs.

Just in time to see his cum gushing out of your hole, dripping across your perineum and then going downwards, skidding through your butt cheek. One of his digits caught the semen before it hit the bedsheets, retraced its steps back and shoved the cum back inside of you with the push of his finger.

“You can’t waste my gift to you, baby, it’d be so fucking rude of you”, he purred in your ear, his voice coarse and warm at the same time.

He laid on his side behind you, moving his index in a circular motion, looking for your g-spot and finding it. He stroked it dextrously, sliding it in and out slowly. You closed your eyes, and fisted the bedsheet in your hand, trying to hold onto something. Your mouth shaped a perfect ‘O’ when he bottomed out, quickly adding a second finger. And a third. Then a fourth.

It didn’t take long for your pussy to adjust to such delightful intrusion ― your inner walls felt like clay, reshaping around him. Joel could feel you relax around his fingers and took the chance, introducing his thumb in your pussy too. Now his entire hand was buried in your fluttering cunt, down to his wrist. He remained still for a hot minute while your muscles loosened up to house him.

Then he slowly started to pump his fist inside of you, back and forth, building up a steady pace. Joel bit your shoulder and then kissed it ― his tongue tasting the saltiness of your sweat.

By that point you couldn’t stop moaning very loudly ― the whole building was probably listening to your whoring screams as Joel fisted you relentlessly with his whole hand. Each push propelling his cum further inside of you as if he wanted it to take. He was thrusting you so harsh, your entire body was rocking back and forth on the bed. He was fucking you senseless just with his hand ― and you were loving every single second of it.

Your sticky cunt couldn’t take it for much longer ― it was wet, pulsating, contracting, overstimulated, yearning… Your pussy literally was his, and only his. The orgasm had been building up for so long now that when you let it go, weeping at the top of your lungs, it hit you like a motherfucking truck. Your whole body went into shock while you squirted ― you were shaking due to the force of your own release. For fuck’s sake, you could barely breathe.

You whimpered again when he removed his hand and rubbed your wetness all over your delicate folds. Before you could form a coherent thought, he spanked you on your crotch so firmly it tingled ― you almost died and went to heaven right there and then, biting into the pillow underneath your head. He kept on slapping your quivering cunt until your sensitive clit twitched one last time with devastating pleasure, contracting your uterus so the last trickle of cum oozed out of you. He caught it with his thumb and brushed it gently against your asshole, caressing the tight ring, until you fully relaxed.

You sighed, unable to move. You even felt dizzy. Your limbs felt so limp you didn’t think you could sit up, so you just stayed there, melting against the bedsheets. You hadn’t realised your eyes had welled up until a few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of complete, utter joy ― there was no other way of describing it.

You were so damn grateful for this man, you swore to yourself you would never let him go. You had been with others, but none of your sexual partners had been so fucking attentive. Joel would always make sure you were completely satisfied, without fail. And that said a lot about him.

You rolled onto your back to look at him, wiping away the tears with a satisfied smile and dreamy eyes. He was still lying down on his side, his elbow against the bed, his head resting on the palm of his hand. He returned your smile ― such gesture transforming his rugged face. So gorgeous it tugged at your heart.

“Y’know, it was supposed to be all the way around today ― me fucking you until you begged”, you confessed, although it was not a complaint.

He grinned, his hand possessively cupping your mound. You parted your legs slightly so he could massage your sensitive furrow. It felt so calming after all that pussy-slapping he gifted you with.

“As redundant as it sounds, plans rarely go according to plan, sweetheart”.

Understatement of the fucking year, you thought.

You just laughed while his hand was still kneading your sticky flaps. Joel kissed your forehead before he took out his hand from in between your legs, your damp, intimate skin being swept by the cold air.

“The morning after pill?”, he asked a minute later.

“I got it from Kelsey, it’s in date. Don’t panic, it’s okay. I have three days to take it. Which made me think… I don’t need to do it straight away, right?”, you glanced up at him, a wide smile on your lips.

“Mhmm, I mean, it would be a waste otherwise, I guess”, he replied, tucking a stray hairlock behind your ear. “But I need a minute here, darlin’. You work miracles, but even I have limits. Wait up”, he mumbled grumpily as he palmed his left wrist, and then got out of bed while he tucked away his member back in his briefs.

Joel headed towards the en-suite bathroom. He came back out only a few seconds later ― you could see panic in his eyes. You sat back up on the mattress quickly.

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked with worry, kneeling on the bed.

“My wristwatch, I can’t find it. I am sure I left it by the sink before I came to bed last night. I can’t lose it. I can’t”, he was now frantically searching his bedside table, panic growing in his tone.

You bit down your lip, because you knew where it was. In the drawer of your nightstand. You had taken it in the middle of the night because your second present was getting it repaired for him today.

“I have it”, you whispered, shrugging with an apologetic smile.

“What? Why?”, he approached you, extending his hand towards you, his tone so serious. “Give it back now”, he almost growled at you.

His reaction took you completely off guard. Why was he so possessive over a broken watch? Trying to understand the sudden change in Joel, you opened the drawer and took it out.

“I just wanted to get it fixed for you, as a gift”, you didn’t understand what was happening.

“You have not fixed it, have you?! Because if you have―”, he snatched it off your hand, inspecting it.

You frowned ― his attitude towards you was completely off. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking things, is that clear?”, he snapped.

You looked at him blankly, speechless. Then your own temperament started to shimmer under the surface.

“Wow, wow, wow ― Calm the fuck down, Joel. It’s just a broken, useless watch―”, you stopped yourself because of his perplexed look.

“Shut up. It’s not just any watch. You don’t fucking understand”, he yapped.

“I would try and understand if you just fucking explained it to me?!”, you shouted at him while you got dressed. “What is your fucking problem, Joel? What’s up with that watch? I don’t read minds!”.

“Forget it”, he grumbled, strapping the watch to his wrist before putting his trousers on and grabbing a T-shirt, heading towards the door.

“That’s it? You just up and leave?”, you repressed the urge of throwing a pillow to his head.

“I’ve got stuff to do���, he muttered.

A few seconds later, you heard him opening the front door. Then he slammed it shut.

It was around lunchtime now and you had not seen Joel since this catastrophic morning. While you had the impression that Joel’s reaction was due to something he would not speak about, he had no fucking right to treat you that way. You were just trying to do something nice for him, that was all.

You walked through the main hallway of the Art Institute of Chicago. It was rammed with people running around ― some armed, some not. You didn’t think that humanity would prevail in big groups in such circumstances, but it did.

The Rioters had established some sort of order. People had tasks to do, everyone working together to build up a community. Chores were allocated according to people’s skills. Joel had been put on patrolling shifts, Tommy was helping with carpentry and other building jobs, and you were in the hunting group. As much as you hated pulling the trigger, you were a very good shot. All thanks to your good old Texan father.

You were on your way to check with the group if there were any plans of going out today when you got interrupted.

“Hey”, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“What’s up, Joyce?”, you looked at the older woman when you turned around.

Joyce was around fifty five years of age, maybe more, and was the kindest soul you had ever met. She had welcomed you to Chicago like a mother a daughter. Joyce showed you around, explained how the Rioters worked and guided you in the right direction. Because as good as everything looked, there was still darkness lurking around.

She was also the best cook ever. Like, no jokes, she could transform a tasteless rabbit in the most flavourful stew your tastebuds had ever been in contact with.

“I just finished cooking, do you want some stew?”, she asked with a warm smile.

Your stomach growled at the mere idea.

“Fuck yeah”, you replied ― your duties could wait, surely.

“Watch your language, kiddo”, Joyce reprimanded you.

“Sorry, sorry”, all that time you spent with Joel was showing.

You followed her to the canteen and patiently waited for Joyce to pour some stew in a bowl. You then went with her to a table where more people were sat down. You didn’t know any of them, so Joyce introduced you. You were damn sure you weren’t going to remember one single name by the time you walked out the door.

“So, you’ve never heard the story of Eugene Williams?”, one of the men asked rhetorically to a younger fellow across the table, who shook his head in reply. “He was a black kid in 1919, when racial segregation was still in place here in Chicago. The summer of 1919 was so hot the kid wandered off to the white side of Chicago beach without realising. A man threw stones at him until the kid drowned and died. That was what ignited the Chicago Race Riot of 1919 ― and why we, the resistance, go by the Rioters”.

You listened to every word while you ate your meal. After hearing that explanation, many things made sense. Although they named themselves the Rioters, there were no riots in the streets ― actually, people seemed happy here, given the circumstances.

“That’s right, Walter, younger people need to learn about the past, so those mistakes are never repeated again”, said Joyce.

The conversation then moved on to present times, the people talking about the continuous fight against the so-called government.

Joel got the afternoon patrolling shift that day, which he thought was a killer, considering he did the night shift last night. But it was good in a sense ― it would keep his mind occupied. You had angered him so much this morning, it had set his mood for the rest of the day. The thought of you erasing that memory had maddened him so bad, he had to walk out before he said something he would later regret.

That watch was the only anchor chaining him to what little remained of his humanity. A gentle reminder of what could have been but wasn’t. Every day he wondered how Sarah would be doing in this new world. And most days, he was just somewhat grateful she wasn’t here to see what had become of civilisation. The unspeakable horrors she would have witnessed and suffered but didn’t ― it was very little consolation to a father, but it was better than nothing.

He absentmindedly touched the watch on his wrist, ensuring it was properly fastened.

Joel was stationed with other people in front of Bataan-Corregidor Memorial Bridge. In those long, never-ending hours, there was no activity on the other side of the bridge, but they had to remain vigilant nonetheless. By the time the next group showed up, it was already half eight in the evening.

Joel headed towards the headquarters to sign off and go home. He was already on edge, thinking about what he would say to you to appease you. Because he was damn sure you would be waiting for him, ready to pick up the fight where you both left it. As Joel walked past the canteen, he heard a familiar voice.

Tommy was on his feet, yelling at a man, his accusatory index pointing to the guy. Joel rolled the eyes to the back of his head ― he was sure his brother was so drunk he would probably not remember any of this the next day. Joel shook his head with disappointment ― some things would never change, not even when the world had gone to shit.

He planned to ignore the situation and get back home to you, when a fight started. Joel groaned in despair, debating what to do. But a man chose for him ― he saw how a bloke approached Tommy from behind, knife on hand, and he knew he had to do something. Joel quickly closed the distance in stride and grabbed the man from the neck of his shirt, pulling him backwards until the dude stumbled with his own feet.

Madness broke out, the whole canteen becoming a battling ground. People were fighting each other over absolutely nothing, throwing punches in the air.

“Tommy!”, he shouted angrily, while the younger Miller turned around and simply smiled.

That fucking pissed him off big time.

“Are you fucking out of your mind? How much have you been drinking?!”, Joel wanted to punch his brother so bad, he really had to control himself.

“Not enough”, he babbled.

As Joel approached his brother, ready to fight him if necessary, the man he had pushed away from Tommy tapped his shoulder. When Joel turned around, the dude punched him in the face and then stabbed him in the lower stomach.

Joel froze for a second, his back slightly curved, his brain coming to terms with what just had happened. He looked down while his hand gripped the handle of the knife. He knew not to remove it because it was the blade what prevented him from bleeding out. Then Joel glanced back up at the same guy and, without thinking, he removed the knife from his flesh and sticked it on the man’s shoulder with a growl.

Joel’s wound started to bleed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Not that he noticed anyway, because hell literally broke loose.

It wasn’t late late, only ten in the evening, but none of the brothers was around when you returned home, which was weird. You could understand if Joel was avoiding you, but Tommy? You frowned as you called for them, shutting the main door behind you. Nothing, no reply at all.

Before you could walk to the living room to see if there was a note or something, someone knocked on the door.

You looked through the peephole. Joyce was standing outside, worry wrinkling her aged face. You opened the door.

“What’s the matter, Joyce?”

“It’s Joel, he’s in the infirmary”, she whispered while placing a soft hand on your forearm.

You just stared at her, bewildered.

“Huh? The where?”, you repeated, while her words started to sink in, your stomach contracting with fear.

“Come with me, kiddo”, Joyce took your hand, guiding you through the apartment building.

The next time you blinked, you were in an outbuilding outside the headquarters. Joyce palmed your hand with hers, in a calming gesture, while she took you to the far end of the shelter. The old lady planted you in front of Joel’s bed, and let go of you with a “take care”.

You stood there for a long minute, still trying to grasp what the hell had happened. He was asleep, his head slightly tilted away from you ― or so you hoped he was. Joel had no shirt on, a bloody bandage covering the right side of his abdomen. You got closer, your heart pounding in your throat.

“He’s fine, it’s just a scratch”, you looked up, befuddled.

Tommy was sitting in a plastic chair on the other side of the bed. He was crouching forwards, his elbow against his knee, head pressing against the palm of his hand. Tommy then smiled, which completely perplexed you.

You were about to reply, but suddenly Joel did instead.

“Fuck off, Tommy. Get your ass somewhere else”, he gritted his teeth.

You hadn’t noticed it yet, but you had been holding your breath, because suddenly you felt a stone being lifted off your chest. You glanced at the younger Miller, who had gotten up with a smile. When he walked past you to go outside, you smelled it. The stench of alcohol made you wrinkle your nose unconsciously.

Joel wrapped his fingers around your wrist to get your attention, so you turned around to look at him, so confused you couldn’t even form a sentence. Joel had already adjusted the pillow on his back so he could be somewhat sat up.

“It’s alright, no need to cry”, he said raising one of his hands to sweep away your tears.

You had not realised you were crying. Giving it a second thought, you probably had been since you left home. You pursed your lips and nodded, quietening your sobs.

“What…?”, you muttered, resting your cheek against his palm before placing a kiss on it.

“Tommy got into a fight in the canteen. He’s so drunk he probably won’t remember a thing tomorrow. A man tried to stab him, and I got in the way ― that’s all, sweetheart. No serious damage, just some stitches”, he tried to calm you.

You wished Tommy was still in the room, because you would have loved to slap the shit out of him for being so irresponsible. What the hell was he thinking? Joel was hurt because of him, and he had just left smiling as if it wasn’t so serious.

“Just leave him be, it’s worthless trying to speak to him in such a state”, something in Joel’s voice told you this wasn’t the first time he had been in this situation.

“Are you sure you’re fine? Joel, please, don’t lie to me―”, you mustered, trying to keep your tears in check, as you caressed his cheek.

He heavily sighed as he scooted over to one end of the tiny bed, leaving enough space for you to join him. You got on the gurney quickly, nestling against him, your arm across his chest in a half embrace. His body heat calmed your nerves a bit, although your hands were still shaking.

“I’m fine, I’m not lying. They won’t let me leave yet though, the nurse said I need to stay here for a couple of hours, until she’s certain the bleeding has stopped”, he explained, his fingertips tracing the shape of your right shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you said with a small voice, your left cheek against his chest.

Joel didn’t fight you on that, so you stayed by his side. His left hand was resting just below your face, his broken watch strapped around his wrist. You bowed your head a bit and kissed his knuckles.

“I’m sorry about this morning, I thought fixing your watch was a nice thing to do, considering it’s been broken since I met you”, you tried to explain yourself, but Joel hushed you by cupping your chin so your eyes would meet his.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you meant well. It’s just…”, you heard him gulp down, as if the next words were extremely painful to say out loud. “Sarah fixed this watch for me on my last birthday. It’s been stuck at 2.40 AM since… since we both got shot. One of the bullets broke it”, he recounted in a husked voice, his brown eyes focused on the timeless sphere.

Then it hit you. That was Sarah’s time of death. And, unknowingly, you almost ruined the last memento Joel possessed of his daughter. His most precious treasure. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of being responsible for such a thing. Had you known, you would have never even considered doing what you had planned.

“Gosh, Joel, I’m sorry. I swear to you I didn’t know”, you breathed out desperately.

“I know, baby. I should have told you that instead of getting angry and for that I apologise, but I just couldn’t…”, he clenched his jaw, and you tried to soften his expression with the touch of your fingers.

“Don’t apologise, please”, you kissed his bearded jaw and remained in comfortable silence for the next two hours, until Joel was finally discharged.

The next day you both stayed home. Tommy had tried to apologise when he came back to his senses, but Joel was having none of it. The younger Miller eventually understood that his brother just needed space until he decided to forgive him and gave up in his efforts. You were alone with Joel all day, making sure he was okay and helping him clean the wound. Those stitches were going to leave a nasty scar on him, but it was better than the alternative. It was healing well, no signs of infection, for which you were so pleased ― probably more than him. You almost had to tie him to the bed so he would stop fidgeting around ― Joel was going to get the wound open again if he didn’t remain still for a bit.

You knew Joel was just trying to keep his brain busy because this day marked a year since Sarah was wrongly snatched from his life. That was why he was so taciturn and quiet today, and you let him be for the most part.

When he sat down on the couch in the afternoon, you just nestled against his body, in silence, his arm affectionately enveloping you.

Nighttime came around soon enough, and you both got into bed. Joel spooned you as soon as he laid down behind you, his right arm hugging you, his chest against your back. You soon fell asleep in his warm embrace, feeling protected and content.

Joel woke up a few hours later, one of his recurrent nightmares haunting him. He grumbled in displeasure and got out of bed to change the dressing over the wound. He did so efficiently and returned to bed, slipping under the bedsheets quietly.

Another hour went by, and he was still awake, his eyes on the ceiling.

He rolled onto his left side and saw you sleeping peacefully, in the exact same position you fell asleep. You had not moved one inch. Joel smiled softly as he got closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and dragging you over to him, looking for your soothing warmth.

Unconsciously, you wiggled your hips to bury your butt in his bulge, and Joel contained a pitiful moan. Your perfectly round ass was innocently embedded in his groin. Now he was sure as hell he was not going to be able to fall back asleep. Irremediably, he pressed his manhood against your buttocks again, looking for that friction.

Joel felt his cock tense up, an erection taking hold. He freed his manhood, slowly pumping himself ― his leaky tip brushing your asscheek until a wet patch adorned your panties. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t resist. You were all curled up, drooling on the pillow, faintly snoring, your knees slightly bent. He cut the distance between you and shoved his dick in your thigh gap, his shaft rubbing against your pussy covered by your underwear.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he rocked his pelvis back and forth, your thighs sweetly compressing his cock ― the tip feeling cold when it overhung on the other side. Joel kissed your shoulder, his hand gently placed on your hip to steady himself.

“C’mon, baby, wake up”, he husked near your ear, gently nibbling your earlobe.

You hummed, half awake. You felt your body being rocked, your eyes fluttering open and looking downwards. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Joel’s glans sticking out through your thigh nook, then disappearing from sight to reappear again. You smiled pleasantly, shutting your eyes, as you felt your needy cunt melt for him. You pursed your lips with delight.

“Can I have my birthday present again, sweetheart?”, he whispered in a constrained tone.

You nodded, scatterbrained.

You were drenching your underwear so bad, there was a visible damp, darken spot right in the middle. Joel pulled back from in between your legs and pushed the bridge of your panties to one side. He lodged his cock in between your puffy lips, sliding it through your entire slit a couple of times to douse himself with your fluids.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”, he muttered as you let out a soft moan when Joel pressed his tip against your dripping hole, your flesh parting as the Red Sea.

Then Joel slowly pushed his hard cock in inch by inch down to his balls. His right arm hugged you, poising you in place and sneaking his hand under your pyjama top to hold one of your full breasts. He stilled for a second, feeling your cunt sheathing him like a warm glove. He thrusted once, twice, thrice. You lost count after that, Joel plunging into you from behind, gaining erratic speed. You grasped the bedsheet in your fist, your spit pooling on the pillowcase.

You placed a hand on your mound and a few seconds later, you slipped it under your panties. With the palm against your clit to cause some grinding, you could feel Joel coming in and out of you in between your index and middle fingers. Your gushing cunt started palpitating around his slick cock, your inner walls squeezing him hard as you came, mewling like a kitten in heat.

Joel quickly followed you, his cum filling you up, breathing roughly behind you. You tilted your head towards your right to look at him over your shoulder. He kissed you, first gently, then more demanding, while his dick was still throbbing with the last wave of his release. Joel pinched your nipple before freeing your mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart, so you don’t forget who you and your tight pussy belong to”, he groaned as he pulled out of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you said gratefully.

Joel put your underwear back in place and pressed the palm of his hand against your wet panties, his cum trickling out with yours and swamping the piece of clothing even more, saturating it, almost as if you had pissed yourself.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’”, he kissed the nape of your neck, his hand still lodged in your thigh gap, hard pressed against your satisfied, clothed pussy. You loved how possessive he was of you, literally claiming your cunt for himself at every chance he got.

With a pleased sigh, you tucked your hands under your head and fell back asleep within seconds.

The earth was round again.

[tototalks]

That’s a wrap on Prince’s Gambit!! 🥳 Let me tell you, there was not a SINGLE chapter of this book I didn’t adore. Absolutely stunning ♥️

Final thoughts! ✨ (Sorry for the length again 💀)

- Starting off strong with seeing Halvik and the awesome lady warriors again!! Halvik really saw the longest, prettiest, most luscious eyelashes on a man and knew it was an absolute waste. She is SO valid for that.

- Laurent is playing Game of Thrones 5D chess, and his mind terrifies and amazes me. His strategy and diplomacy with the reinforcements was absolute genius and this is why I need a Hamlet situation to happen with uncle dearest.

- Damen. Leather loincloth. That’s it. That’s the post. 🙂

- I love this weird point where Damen and Laurent both look at each other like “this is so clearly more than friends, but what the actual FUCK is this??”

- AIMERIC?! NO NO NO. FFS!! Omg I didn’t see that coming!! Why do I even bother getting attached anymore. I am the fool.😭

- Jord is breaking my fucking heart in two. I need good things to happen for him after this. He’s done nothing to deserve the betrayal, and that’s the phenomenal cruelty of it. Bad things happen to good people and there’s not shit you can do about it. ☹️

- BATTLE FOR THE PRINCE!!!! Man, I was ready to ride into battle with them! What an adrenaline kick of a scene!

- Damen was fully recognised, and yet, in the midst of it, there is MORE PAIN FOR JORD 🙃

- I am so happy that we get to see Erasmus and the living testament to the fact kindness is powerful.

- “I don’t like the Regent. He burned my leg!!” YOU TELL THEM BABE!! His revenge is so so sweet. Enjoy it, Erasmus♥️

- The kiss. Oh my stars, the kiss. That was the most angst promising, stunning, and oh-so-earned kiss made even more poignant by the fact I’m convinced Laurent KNOWS and is letting it happen anyway. If my suspicions are correct, he’s had to come to terms with the fact he’s fallen for the man who killed his brother. I am TERRIFIED for King’s Rising. 🙃

- Aimeric and Laurent, both very different victims. - “you attack those who can’t defend themselves” - Damen… bro… I love you but stop. But I like the fact we get to see that Laurent is not impenetrable. He’s cold and cunning but still human and deeply hurt.

- Damen and Laurent’s first time. Wow. Just wow. The layers to this scene. Laurent’s clear trauma associated with sex and Damen’s reassurance and honour. “How a man takes a boy?” “No. How a man takes a man.” You hear that? That’s the sound of my heart shattering further. Sex scene done RIGHT.

- “Nicaise would not see fifteen now.”… well there goes the last of my fucking heart. I am DEVASTATED. He deserved to live. If you hear sobbing coming from the general direction of Hong Kong, just know it was me. 🥲

- “I’m sorry, Jord” - C.S. Pacat. We are gonna have words. You cannot make a bad bitch like me cry this hard.

- The Regent and Kastor in kahoots. Ooooooh boy - it pains me that deep down I feel like Laurent wanted to prove to himself that Damen wasn’t special and goaded him into that punch to prove it, and yet Damen recognises the cycle of abuse and that BLINDSIDES Laurent.

- AKIELON REINFORCEMENTS??!!! NIKANDROS!!??

- Aaaaaaand there’s Damen’s secret blown to utter smithereens. Nice job, Nikandros lol

- And if all that wasn’t enough, chapter 19 1/2 killed me off for good, so long folks 💀

Let’s go, King’s Rising!! 👑 ⚔️

[happylikeasadsong]

syd x carmy in season three

i’m back here cause i have way too much to say than it can fit on thread on twt

this is just what i could come up after sitting on s3 for the past few days, i was spiralling, it was bad.

this will be a long one, so settle in!

for me, regardless if this season was supposed to be a two parter or not, one thing that’s clear to me is that we were meant to watch this rupture in their relationship develop throughout the season.

listen, he was locked in that freezer for hours, and in those hours he spiraled beyond control. we can’t expect sydcarmy to have the same dynamic as the past seasons cause they’re not in the same place they were before. Carmy locked in the walk-in changed him and therefore, changed their dynamic too.

he promised syd in the first episode that he was never gonna leave her alone again, but in his fucked up mind, this means never let her make a solo decision when is comes to the menu, is having him make all the decisions himself and have the last say and change her every input. For him, this is how he honours his promise and for syd is how he makes her feel under appreciated and undermined.

he makes it look like it doesn’t matter what she does, as great as it is, he’ll always change it and make it about him. the decision of having her as a partner takes her by surprise cause they have never discussed it, he dumps all of these things on her, first thing in the morning, she can wrap her mind around the fact that’s that same guy she left a few hours before. He’s completely changed.

And though she tries to at least get on board and support his non-negotiables list and the menu changing every day and all the bullshit with richie, by “doors” she’s already exhausted of trying to keep up with him, tired of being his babysitter.

so when that new opportunity is presented to her, she actually considers it because it’s a way out of working in a stress free environment where she has full creative control to shape the new place as she sees fit (also the pay and benefits?? I’d be signing that shit right there lmao). It really is an incredible opportunity.

so yeah, i feel like we were meant to see how they crack under pressure and this was something chris storer had said in interviews before when talking about s2 on how hard it is to open a restaurant and keep it running once you do. he always wanted to explore the gritty stuff and I felt like he accomplished that in this season.

from a narrative standpoint, at some point we had to see syd and carmy’s partnership is put to test, we need to see what falling out to the point of almost no return looks for them in order to see how they are gonna find their way back to each other. and i can’t see a better time to do it than now.

it can feel hopeless, yes, and feel like they’re not gonna make it to the finish line, but let’s remember this is a story about finding new ways to reconnect to the things/ people you love, found family and generational trauma.

we see carmy is at his lowest, sydney is at her lowest, so logically the only way we can get to is up.

i believe that after carmy confronted his abusive boss, he had some sort of breakthrough from the way he sighed after their talk. i took it as his way of beginning to process his trauma.

as for sydney, we saw how deeply the idea of leaving has affected her, even though she knows is for a better place where her ideas will be respected and appreciated they way she knows it deserves. hopefully her panic attack will be enough to make her realize she needs help making the decision (if she can’t have her best friend and partner for this, then she’ll have her dad).

all of this to say that i am hopeful and excited to see what’s coming next year, and i truly believe sydcarmy is on the right path (this is a slow burn doing slow burn things ffs). We can’t let go just when things gets interesting. im dying to see their big fight, it’s something I’ve been needing since s2.

they’re still soulmates (after we saw the invisible string scene, there’s no going back) and they had significant scenes this season too, just not the way ppl thought it would be.

let’s have them work it out on the remix

[conscbgb]

Spy & Nut REAL life comes FIRST than whatever stupid ship toxic fans claim from them!! Bringing flowers to congratulate your friend's new project IS NOT A PROBLEM or ACT OF DISRESPECT TOWARDS PON!!!

These kind of comments 👇are really the lowest points of toxic/evil people: "The company should take action"...for WHAT???? Because outside the working hours Spy doesn't fake to have a romantic rs with Pon????? Because at events they don't fake something that is NOT there???? WORK IS WORK (and both of them do it very well because their on screen chemistry is great) REAL LIFE IS REAL LIFE!!

They get along well, they respect each other, what more those "fans" want???

STOP THE SICK SHIPPING BL ACTORS "CULTURE" FFS!!

I swear...if Spy+Nut friendship is gonna be ruined because of stupid people and their sick mentality, their continous attacks towards them for foolish reasons and for something that live only in their twisted minds...😡😤

PS: The first video's creator is a supporter of SpyNut friendship, the comments and other videos against their rs are the problem...

[assistantquail]

Well damn... (Adults) 2/2

 Male reader is left with no choice but to use a female avatar, not that he minds using it on the first place, to save their best friend's life.

Characters: Tonowari, Ronal, Quaritch

Pronouns: They/Them

Warnings: Cursing, injury, mentions of blood, simps, everyone is bi >:3, gender is a social construct, idk a thing about injuries or fighting, ooc

This is obviously an au, so be warned

Tonowari and Ronal are siblings

Quaritch is going through character development

Why? Because, I said so

(None of the ff images/gifs are mine)

Tonowari

This will be a hard and gruesome battle against the sky people. It is war, the moment they attacked their spirit brothers and sister. This is a serious period for the clan and he was focused on avenging those they have lost. But he never expected to be enamored by one of them, realizing this person is “the backup” the Toruk Makto mentioned. 

The moment you appeared, on the back of an ikran he is whipped.

“I see you” You gestured towards him and his sister Ronal. You were not surprised by Ronal's wariness with you, you are used to the treatment and stares. A light smile graced your lips, raising both of your hands up just like what the Sullys did when they first arrived.

“Y/N brother, I'm so glad to see you”  Jake went to your side, and both of your hands meet each other which resulted in a clap.

“You cannot get rid of me, that easily Sully” Your lips widened, showing off your fangs as you threw a grin.

Brother? You are clearly a female though? The poor man was confused but he chose to formally greet you, throwing the question to the back of his mind. He made eye contact with you, as you returned your attention to them.

“Greetings, I am Y/N L/N, I understand that this is no time and place for warming up to each other...” You held your head up high, never looking away from him as “But I would like to thank you for taking in my brother and his family, I owe you one”

Tonowari's brain just stopped functioning correctly when he heard your voice, so he was not able to process your words and just nodded dumbly (in Ronal's perspective).

“It is a pleasure that you will aid us in this battle”

“The pleasure is all mine, to be able to fight along with the mighty Olo'eyktan and people of the Metkayina” Ronal noticed how the tail of her brother kept swishing around in delight, as he listens to your words. She rolled her eyes at this, attempting to break you both apart before Tonowari does something stupid.

“We have no time for this, we must prepare now” She gestured for you to follow her, and you nodded at the Olo'eyktan before catching up to Ronal. Jake also nodded to Tonowari,

“We shall discuss strategies in a while, yes?” His body turned to face Jake but his eyes were kept on your back as you walked away, “Of course”

Jake noticed how his full attention was not on the conversation but he suspected it might be because of the stress. “Do not think too deeply about this matter, we will be able to have a higher chance of winning with my brother here”

There it is again with you being called brother, is this some sort of nickname? He did not want to ask unless he is certain that this is a comfortable topic to be asked with you in person.

“The tulkuns have been warned by the people, now we will reassess the situation to prevent anyone from losing” Tonowari regained his ability to think clearly again, taking this situation seriously.

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Tonowari was not able to have another glimpse of you until the battle horn was blown.

It was time, all the warriors gathered with their skimwings. That is when he saw you on your ikran, you had no time to bond with any of the creatures in the reef so you had to make do with what you had.

Your eyes were focused on the ships ahead, void of any emotions that were present when you first arrived. Your mouth was moving but he was not sure  what you were saying as you pressed something on your neck.

You were wearing your visor, a chest plate out of bones with sky blue paint on your face. In your hand was a bunch of weapons.  You also had a gun at bay, but it did not worry him.

What worried him was you and the people's safety.

The horn sounded again and you were immediately flying through the sky. The wind did not bother you a bit, as you heard from Jake that your nieces and nephews were missing in action. This ignited something in you, nobody messes with your family, not while you are still breathing.

Explosions and gunshots resounded as you threw grenades at the incoming fleets, you easily took down 3 ships in a short moment as you evaded their guns. Skillfully navigating through the air as your one-man army terrorizes the invaders.

You cursed as you did not see any sign of your loved ones, pressing the communicator on your neck to give Jake an update.

“Jake, the kids are not here, they must be on that ship at 3 o’clock”

“Roger that, once you’re done there, proceed to that ship” Jake was very worried, you can hear it in his voice as he tries to steel himself.

“I’ll be there in a heartbeat, cross my heart”

You shot down a few more boats as the army of the Metaykina arrived to see the damage you caused, it was messy to describe it nicely. Tonowari watched as you shot someone with an arrow, making them fall of the ship.

The rest of the warriors marveled at the sight, some of them fell in love with your bravery and skill. You noticed that they stopped for a while making you raise an eyebrow.

“Well, they are all yours brothers and sisters” Your voice woke them up from their thoughts, and charged at the ships.

Tonowari used his spear to eliminate the survivors who managed to escape from the flaming ships that are sinking. He noticed how someone was aiming for you and immediately impaled the man from fury, how dare he try to hurt you.

He turned back to you, your face wore a smirk while looking back at him. This made him gulp as Ao’nung looked at his uncle in bewilderment. Oh, this is great material, wait till Tsireya hears about this-

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You flew towards the ship where the kids were being kept, thankfully you were able to shoot down the enemies before they shot at the boys.

“Uncle Y/N!”

Neteyam called out to you with a relieved smile, they knew that you were strong and you will protect them.

“Thank Eywa, you skxawngs are alive” 

You informed Jake that you found the three boys and girl are safe. The five of you went to the shore, once you got off your ikran you pulled them into a hug.

After this heartfelt moment, you hit them all at the back of their heads, except the Metaykina girl.

“Seriously, you leave your parents’ sight for a few minutes and you almost got yourself killed! What were you all thinking!?”

You proceeded to scold them for five minutes while the girl which you now know as Tsireya watched. They feel ashamed of what they did, but they also know that you just care about them and what they did could have easily killed anyone.

Thankfully everyone was safe and no one died. Jake and Neytiri proceeded to do the same thing as you, hug the and scold them enough to never forget. 

Neytiri gasped when she saw your leg, “Y/N your leg! Let us treat it immediately”

“Oh shit, uncle Y/N” The kids started to fuss over you, which made you confused.

“Huh?” You look down to see blood soaking the sand underneath you then you felt the pain. “Yeah, maybe I should not have looked-”

Suddenly your feet were not touching the ground and you were met with a teal blue chest. Ocean eyes were staring into your golden ones, masked with worry.

“Olo'eyktan, what a surprise! But you need not carry me, I can walk by myself”

“No, you are injured, you must not take this situation lightly” The Sullys and Tsireya watched this interaction, they all had wide eyes while Lo’ak almost laughed at how grave Tonawari’s expression is. Jake is trying to not laugh out loud at your bewildered expression, he knows that your pride is at stake”

“This is not the first time I was shot nor a helpless girl, so please calm down”

“Absolutely not, this is not a request but an order as the Olo’eyktan”

“But I am not part of this-”

“No buts”

Oh, this will be a great show, they thought. They wondered how he will react once he finds out that you are actually a man.

(I will probably continue this story along with Tsu’tey’s? Should I? AYO)

Ronal

She despises your kind with all her heart but she also tries to treat you in a neutral manner with the urging of her brother and niece. She should find you annoying but she is aware of how you are trying your best to not be seen by her, this is how the walls around her heart crumble little by little. She does not know how an avatar works so imagine her reaction to finding out that you have been severely injured.

Ronal is a smart and badass woman, that's your first impression of her and you respect her attitude. In fact, you welcomed it with open arms. With this fact and attitude, she was deeply annoyed with you. A demon, you were always called, yet you remain unbothered with what surrounds you.

Despite your kind being small and fragile, they have caused so much irreparable damage to Pandora. A stain that must be removed at all costs.

You can easily be trampled on by their kind yet the half-bloods insist on sticking by your side. It must be because of your dirty blood inside them, which makes them protective over you.

As a sky person, you have always believed that you should not be with the Sullys even though you are Jake’s best friend. But they see you as family, heck even Neytiri cares for you! You know that you are not worthy of such compassion after what your kind has done.

Everyone begs to differ with your belief, they know that you are different from the ones that wreak havoc. So you put your utmost effort into fixing and improving the state of Pandora to correct the wrongdoings of what the others have done. 

When the Sullys had to leave the clan for their safety, they offered to bring you with them and you immediately tried to shake your head. “I am not certain that they will welcome someone like me, my avatar has not even healed since the unexpected raid”

“It does not matter, you are family to us, if they do not accept you then we will look for another clan” Jake and Neytiri placed their hand in your shoulder. It was already a big deal that they were leaving a place full of memories, yet they could not bear to make you separate from them.

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So that is how you arrived at this point. When Kiri almost drowned near the spirit tree, you were just as panicked as her parents and they called for Norm and the others. You know that the Tsahik will not like this, she will be furious at the sight of the machines being brought to the marui.

You were right with your theory, regrettably enough. She was furious at the sight of all these unknown objects placed around and attached to Kiri. Ronal flipped out, wearing a more stressed expression than what you usually see.

You were worried that she is having too many things on her plate and it is affecting her health, you prefer not seeing her get worked up. The reason why? It is unknown to you but it may be related to how similar she is to your little sister.

They both have their own ways to deal with things and the strong personality is nostalgic to you. But for some reason she shows hostility against you the most, she did not acknowledge Norm or the others even if they are unfamiliar.

When nothing was happening to your niece as she was still unconscious, Neytiri also burst out. She yelled at almost everyone to take the machines away as she pleaded to Ronal, for her daughter.

“Take those vile things away, I do not want to see any sky people or their crafts in front of me” Ronal seethed, you were scared but thankful that she will heal Kiri.

“Let us get these things out of here”

You made it your responsibility to speed up the process of taking all the machines back to the ship.

You decided to leave her sight so that she will not have other problems to deal with, a Tsahik is already a big enough responsibility. As you thought about her hardships, you decided to make some of her favorite snacks.

You have a very understanding personality, which is why almost everybody has no problem with sharing their problems with you. It is almost like an unconscious routine of yours, you will be observing a person that piques your interest and do small actions to lighten their responsibilities. It is not the first time you have done such a thing for Ronal.

“She must be busy at this time, I shall give her some snacks”

In fact, she knew that you are the one who leaves meals in the front of her marui when she is having a busy day. Without you knowing, she observes you as well, to make sure that you are no threat to her people. Every day, since you cannot join the others for the lessons, the reason is obvious.

You aid the rest of the Metaykina clan through sharing your knowledge and helping with the physical work. In the beginning, they are all wary of you and avoided you at all costs. Now, they are beginning to warm up to you because of your deeds.

Even Tonowari gives you invites to join them in a variety of activities, whether it be hunting or other things. But you would always excuse yourself, telling them that you will just slow them down and take away the fun while wearing that stupid smile of yours.

“Y/N I have heard stories from Jake Sully about your ingenious works, it would be an educational experience if you could join us in our hunt” “It is an honor of mine to be invited, but regretfully we might have to reschedule on another time” You made eye contact with her for a few seconds before returning your attention to her brother.

“My physique and skills cannot possibly be able to amount even 1/10th of your strength” You held your small hand to your chest in mock defeat.

When she found out that you actually spend time with her brother when she is not present, she felt annoyed calling you a coward in her head. Were you really that scared of her or did you just dislike her?

Ronal knows that it is none of the two, but she cannot help but think that way. Both of you would have never spoken to each other unless you passed by one another, though it is only you that greets her as she just looks at you.

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Those small actions of yours, she started to look forward to them. Tonowari even teased her about how she is having special treatment so that she can accept you. But she knows your personality despite not being close, so she smacked Tonowari's arm in annoyance. 

“Good morning Tonowari and Tsahik!” You chirped

You treat everyone the same way. 

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You were bleeding profusely, as your body gets washed up on the shore, Ronal's spirit sister was the one who brought you there and she felt dread creep in her stomach. She wanted to come near you but the sight of the Sullys immediately hovering around you made her freeze on her feet.

The people gathered around you so she went to her spirit sister and asked what happened.

“Ugh the RDA... They're here” She heard you choke out, you are in pain yet you still gave them a calming smile. Your arm is clutched around your injured leg as you tried to even out your breathing.

Her spirit sister told her all the events that took place, how she was almost shot by a ship but you took the bullet for her.

You were at the ocean because Lo'ak invited you to meet Payakan and so happened to also see what happened. She was thankful for what you have done but this meant war...

She watched as you were brought somewhere, Jake Sully told them to warn the others before any of their spirit sisters and brothers get hurt. Since her sister is already safe and sound, she decided to look for you before she heads out for the fight.

On the other side, you are currently surviving off painkillers as you trudged out of the marui while being scolded by Kiri.

“I have to help them my Kiri, I know how those demons work” You placed your hand on her head to ease her worries, “I mean I am a demon myself so I can handle myself”

When Ronal heard what you said, she felt some guilt for how you used humor to downplay the insults. But before she can get near you, a metal compartment was pulled out by the familiar dream walkers from before.

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She was you again during the battle, but you looked different. Your form is similar to the Omatikaya clan but instead of a male, your form is a female. She did not even have the chance to fully admire your features for the first time, since you both barely faced each other properly, because you have been shot again.

This time she did not show her usual attitude of indifference and scorn, but genuinely cared for you.

“Quickly, bring Y/N to the marui!” 

Your avatar is bleeding quickly and you are already pale from the blood loss. Your eyes weakly looked at her teary ones, her expression hurt you. Ronal was too busy trying to calm herself down that she only noticed that you were looking at her when she felt your hand shakily wipe her tears away.

“Do not be sad, I will be fine”

“You should swear, I hate liars”

“I swear, Ronal, I will be fine”

This is the first time she heard her name come from your mouth and it brought her a sweet feeling, she sniffled as you finally arrived at her marui.

Needless to say, you were really fine. When you passed out in your avatar form, you came back in your human form with that same stupid smile. And Ronal wanted to be pissed at the fact she cried for you but love overpowered her as she finally accepted how she sees you.

Quaritch

He is a new man and he is going through the journey of accepting his new body and new life. But there will always be his past trying to get him. At least you are there though, the co-parent of his human son and his closest acquaintance... Oh, Eywa please help him keep his thing down before you notice. And why does his boy keep staring at him with that smug look? 

The man has done a lot of evil things, everyone knows that which is why despite losing his memories, most of the Omaticaya clan avoids him like a disease.

“He is one of those who destroyed the Hometree...”

“Stay away from him at all costs, you do not know when you will be endangered...”

But not you, not Jake, not the kids, Neytiri is still wary but there has been some progress. All of you have an understanding that this takes time, not everyone has healed from the past.

For some reason, Quaritch seems to stick around you most of the time. But you guessed that it might be because you are human, which seems less of a threat than the Navis.

You and Quaritch do not speak to each other much if the teasing is not counted. You are busy with whatever you need to do while the man just sticks by your side whenever he finishes his lessons.

“Spider was right, you do speak as a 3-year-old” You commented at his Navi, trying not to laugh but your shoulders were betraying you.

He looked at you, with an offended expression. Trying to look angry as he towered over you.

“I can literally throw you with ease, mister” 

The man may never admit it but he had some fragments of human Quaritch about you, half of the time is how much he wants to kill you and the rest is about how he wishes you do not get yourself killed. Those are very conflicting feelings that confuse him, he seems to be developing something.

“Whatever you say, old man”

Seeing you take care of Spider, the child of human him makes him imagine something with you. It will only be a flash though before it gets thrown to the back of his head.

It took a lot of convincing... And bribes... And some threatening before the people finally started warming up to his presence.

“People say, find good people and leave the bad ones...

But I say, find the good in people and ignore the bad in them...

Because no one is perfect”

That is what you always like to say. 

Which makes him wonder how you are so positive after all the crazy things that happened.

Things were finally looking up for Quaritch and you are proud of what he has achieved.  He is now really one of the people, a new life has been given to him.

Until the RDA came back for revenge. They were hunting down him and Jake, it was a mess all over again. Spider was almost taken and if it was not for your appearance near the site.

They also knew about you, as Grace's prodigy who will be in charge of the project after her. So you had to come with them for the safety of the clan.

══════⊹⊱❖⊰⊹══════

You were all leaving tomorrow morning and there are approximately 18 hours left before the trip. With Jake and Neytiri, you decided to use your avatar again for the journey.

You have only used it a couple of times (during the battle where Jake became the Toruk Makto, when Neteyam, Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk were born to babysit them) before deciding that you are better off with your human body for Spider who you treated as a son.

The group will head to Awa'atlu and seek Uturu there, the distance is huge so you will not be found so easily. Once the plan has been made, you exited their house first to excuse yourself and walk around one last time in your human body.

Your shoulders slumped as you disappeared from the two's sight, you knew that you were being overdramatic since you have only lived here for almost two decades while the others lived here their whole lives. They are surely the ones who are being hit the most by this news.

Quaritch noticed you when you walked past him with a dazed expression without saying anything. Without saying anything he followed you, walking behind you in silence.

He just watched as your legs brought you to a familiar site, looking around this is where you brought him before.

This place is secluded in the area and only you tend to be a usual inhabitant of this place, not considering the wildlife. You told him before that this is a great place to rest whenever you or he wants to just be alone and away from whatever is troubling you both.

You did not know how your feet brought you to this place, heck you did not even notice that you were unconsciously walking if you did not almost smack your face on a tree. A familiar tail wrapped around your waist preventing you from an accident.

“Woah there, if you just wanted me to touch you, you could have just asked” He purred, pulling you closer with his tail, “There is no need to play these mind games”

As you regained your senses, you sighed in relief when you saw that Quaritch saved you from possibly breaking your mask.

“That scared me, thank you for the save”

The corners of your lips perked up as you great fully nodded at him. You gently untangled yourself from his tail before slumping onto the ground. You did not notice how his whole body tensed because you were facing the ground.

Quaritch felt his whole body want to shiver when you touched him and he took deep breaths to relax his body before placing all his attention on you.

“You know, you can go do your thing now”

Your finger drew circles on the ground beside you as you held your knees to your chest, mumbling with a dry laugh.

“I am fine here, no wild animals will come out of nowhere if you are afraid that I will get myself killed”

Quaritch knows that he is no good at comforting others or being uplifting, but he can listen. So wearing his usual smirk, he sat beside you.

“Yeah right and for your information, my thing is annoying you

”You looked at him with a raised brow that says "really?” and finally showed him a small but real smile.

“I swear, you are like a tail sometimes” 

“I am the best tail that ever existed then”

There is the hint of human Quaritch that you are familiar with, that confident mindset, and how he holds himself.

You let out an amused huff before looking at the grass again, drawing random shapes. Silence enveloped the area, it was a comfortable one, to be honest.

Quaritch kept his eyes on you, enjoying the sound of nature as you both sat close to each other. He could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“An ikran for your thoughts?”

“Well...”

You ended up telling him about the plan of leaving the clan, you were expecting him to react negatively to this news because everything was finally great until now.

Hesitantly, you took a peak at his expression to see how he is looking straight into you, there is no emotion on his face that is negative. In fact, he looks relaxed like you just told him about your day.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Did you expect me to react like a child?”

He was met with silence making him open his mouth in shock.

“Really!?”

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This was the morning when the group will be leaving the clan, Quaritch woke up earlier than expected. He did not get out of his bed and just stared at the ceiling, thinking of how you hung out yesterday.

You told him about your thoughts and how you feel guilty about the whole thing. It was unreasonable since nobody would have thought that this will happen.

A shuffle sounded at the doorway and there stood the little human, human him made. The two of them have a friendly relationship, almost acting like a father and son but they have not reached that part of reconciliation yet, in your words.

“Thinking about a special someone, Quaritch?”

Spider grinned at him, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned on the door frame.

“Who let you in here? I'm pretty sure this is a crime”

The man rolled his eyes as he sat up, not throwing the subject away which Spider noticed but decided not to comment on that.

“Oh calm yourself old man, I came here since you were not getting out at your usual time. We gotta go soon”

Since Spider cannot bind with an ikran since his avatar body is still in the construction phase, he will be flying with Lo'ak. You with him, Tuk with Jake, and the rest on their own.

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To this day, Quaritch cannot help but laugh at the fact Jake named his ikran “Bob" out of the billions of names available.

Everyone gathered at the meeting place except you and Lo'ak, it was almost time but no one except Quaritch is wondering where you are.

He tried to distract himself by tending to his Ikran, making sure that he is ready for the long flight. His ears twitched at the faint but familiar footsteps tapping from afar.

“There they are, took you long enough” Jake's voice has a hint of laughter but Quaritch still didn't turn around.

“Sorry about that, it took me a while to get a hang of this body again” An unfamiliar female voice came from the direction where you are supposed to come from. He whipped his head in your direction and it took his strength to not open his mouth in shock.

“Y/N?���

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Spider nudge Kiri with that same smirk of his. You told him before that Spider's smirk is really similar to his, you will never tell him how that smirk makes you feel inside though.

“Cat got your tongue, Miles?” Your hand is placed on your hip, above your small waist insinuating your curves as you threw him a smirk.

His voice got caught in his throat, making him look like a fish as he opened and closed his mouth.

At this sight, the family on the side who has been forgotten in this two-person world are whispering bets.

“I bet a whole month of chores that he's falling in love” - Lo'ak

“That is not possible because he already is in love. Have you been blind?” - Kiri

“I also suspect that Quaritch may be blind at his feelings, so is Y/N” - Neteyam

“Now kids, you should not be discussing this behind their backs” Neytiri went on between her children with a smile, at least the is something positive blooming in this trip “But I bet that Quaritch wants to mate with them more, now”

“Neytiri?!” Jake looked at his wife in disbelief, this was something he did not expect of her.

Back to your side.

“Just kidding, no need to take that seriously”

Extra:

Quaritch felt like hell, your arms are wrapped around him and he can feel your chest on his back. This was a test of self-control, you got worried with how tense he is.

"Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to ride with Neteyam instead? That is alright with me" Your breath hit his neck and he took a sharp inhale.

"No way, you are stuck with me the whole journey"

I will be posting the female reader version of this part tomorrow

Up next: Oh my Eywa- (Teens) ft. Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Kiri [1/2]

Previous work/s:

Well damn... (Adults) 1/2 ft. Jake, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey [Male reader ver.]

Well damn... (Adults) 1/2 ft. Jake, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey [Female reader ver.]

[igotanidea]

Heal the past: Dick Grayson x f!reader

Summary: Y/n and Dick has no secrets from each other. She is his pillar, strong and reliable and always there for the all the batboys. So, why does her health keep getting worse and what could she possibly keep in the dark?

Warnings: mentions of abuse, past trauma and therapy sessions, apart from that it's fluff/comfort

A/N: another story based loosely on a work case. I hate domestic violence incidents and hereby I dedicate this ff to everyone who has ever experienced one or currenly is - seek help, you can free yourself from that pain and fear. The first step is always the hardest.

„Y/N?”

„Hi there” she slowly turned her gaze towards the door where Dick was standing, eyeing her carefully. She tried her best to cover up for how she was feeling, but she was painfully aware he noticed everything. Her slightly red and puffy eyes, her reddened cheeks, the way she was holding her knees against her chest, rocking back and forth, mere seconds before his entering. He knew she wasn’t all good, there was no point in neither asking nor denying. If anyone was looking  for a perfect example of a mess  sure as hell she was one. 

“How… how was it today?” He dared to take a step in, testing girls’ reaction and since she did not ask him to leave he came even closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Hard.” she managed to say. “But what’s new.” Another attempt at cover-up by using a sad smile.  

“Is it a good or a bad sign?” it was so touching how truly concerned he was.

“I … I don’t really know. It’s just a lot to process, you know. The years of trauma and hiding your own feelings and emotions?”

“Believe me, I know well enough” he sighed deeply and she mentally slapped herself. He’s been through a lot as well.

“And yet, between you and me I am the one who was forced to start therapy sessions.”

“You weren’t forced……” he trailed, but she cut him off

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was offered the chance to work through my past and convinced to accept.”

“Y/n……” he reached for her hand but she retrieved it from his grip, making his face drop a bit.

***

Half a year ago something bad started happening to her. Nightmares, constant fear. She had those symptoms before, but never so strong. It was not because of the fact that she became a part of bat family, taking care of teenage vigilantes and dating one of them. Nope. Surprisingly she was taking that pretty well, all things considered. This was the normal amount of stress. The problem was elsewhere and even though everyone was worried about her, she was just shrugging it off casually pretending she was doing fine. Nonetheless, it took an enormous amount of energy to suppress the shaking hands, calm the breath and not scream out loud when panic attacks creeps in for unknown reason. And then, because of all of this sucking up she started having headaches and later on, migraines, up to point where light was always too bright, and the sounds were always too loud. But she tried her best to survive, act strong and just live on, even if everyone knew something was terribly off. Their premonitions soon turned reality when she fainted in the kitchen.  She didn’t even get a chance to wrap her mind around what was happening when out of the blue she got dizzy, the whole world was spinning and she felt as if someone hit her in the back of the head with something extremely heavy.

“Jason…..” she gasped since he was the one closest to her, his eyes immediately focusing on the girl and his expression changing from his natural wry to concern and a bit of fear

“Y/N? What is happening?”

“I’m not…….. I’m not feeling well….” she grabbed the kitchen counter stabilizing herself but it was for nothing “I think…. I’m gonna throw up…”

“Jeez, Y/N, in some other circumstances I would ask you if you are pregnant, but …. hey, come on, don’t  plotz on me” thank god, he was quick enough to catch her  before she hit the ground yelling for Dick to come quickly.

Grayson wasn’t usually the one to react to Jason commands and it was no different this time. It took three attempts to finally get him to move his butt, and he only did so, because his younger brother pointed out it was about Y/N. Just the mention of her name made Dick sprung out of the couch and rush to the kitchen. Oh, he did not expect to find his love unconscious in Jason’s arms and a lot of feelings flooded him.  Confusion of what just happened, terror of whether she was alright and anger, ironically jealousy since Jason was the one to hold her and the unreasonable amount of guilt since because she was his girlfriend it was his duty to care about her and protect her. But all that could wait. She was the priority now. What was important, was checking her medical condition and finding out what caused her fainting. Dick was quick to take her from Jason and scoffing and frowning at his brother carried her to the bed, calling Alfred on the way.

While she was being checked up and still out cold, Dick refused to leave her side for a second, holding her hand in his, caressing her palm and praying silently that everything would turn up fine. He wouldn’t survive if it turned out that she was sick and dying for example. He should have taken better care of her, he shouldn’t have exposed her to so much stress, he should have told her to go see the doctor the second he noticed her health deteriorating. He should have…

“Master Dick?” Luckily, Alfred knew when to step in to stop the boy’s from beating himself up and his mind from spiraling

“Yes, Alfred?”

“She’s going to be all right. There’s no sign of anything suspicious about her organism. Maybe just a little increased blood pressure, but it will pass.”

“Thank God” Dick let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding “Thank you, Alfred.”

“It’s nothing .And … Dick?”

“Hm?” this time the boy did not even bother to look at the older man, his gaze fixed on the girl’s face, gently caressing her cheek, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

“She’s gonna need some rest. And…. And I think she should see a specialist.”

“A specialist?” now he turned towards the butler “what do you mean?”

“Don’t you see? You know, master Dick for someone so well trained in observation as vigilante, you can be absolutely oblivious in real life. Y/N suffers from anxiety disorder. And maybe, maybe she’s a bit depressed, but I’m not   qualified enough to determine that. “

“She’s what?” Dick opened his eyes wide in shock  “Why? Why did she never tell me?”

“You will have to ask her about that yourself. I’ll leave you two alone.”

“When will she wake up?” Dick’s voice broke a little and Alfred knew how much strength it took for the boy to hold himself together upon hearing the revelations.

“Can’t really tell, but I suggest you to be patient.”

“Right…. Thank you, Alfred. Will you…. will you stay with her when I go patrolling tonight?”

“Are you crazy?” Jason came inside the room almost yelling at his older brother but quickly calming down when he noticed Y/N pale figure on the bed “You’re not going anywhere. Demon, replacement and me can take of things. She needs you more. Besides, I don’t think you;ll be able to focus on anything and as much I would love to see you beaten up for once, she would kill me if I ever let anything like that happen. Can’t risk her wrath.”

“Her wrath, huh?” Dick smirked

“Yeah. Of course. But… she’s gonna be all right, right? She just looks so weak….”

“We’ll make sure of that.”

“Why did no one tell me y/n lost consciousness?!”

“Father, calm down.”

“How can I calm down Damian? She’s……”

“She needs quiet. I suggest both of you stop yelling!”

“Who’s yelling now, Tim?!”

“Oh, shit….” Dick facepalmed

“I’ll get them out of here.” Jason stated simply

“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

However, Jason did manage to drag Bruce, Tim and Damian out of the bedroom and forced them to focus on patrol, while Dick just stayed with Y/N. At first he was sitting beside her bed, but after fifteen minutes started getting nervous, pacing around. Why wasn’t she waking up? Alfred said she was fine, but … shit! He ruffled his hair in desperation. It was going to be a long night.

***

 He gave up after three hours. He was exhausted from his own thoughts and walking back and forth like no night patrol has ever made him. Defeated by his own body and tiredness he finally laid down next to Y/N, gently sneaking his arms around her pulling her in from behind, nuzzling his face into her neck, hoping she would somehow feel his presence and the love he felt for her. Apart from a single sharp breath when he touched her and a bit of a shift in a position she did nothing more, especially did not wake up. So he just laid there, eyes shot, brows furrowed.

“Please, don’t leave me…..” he whispered against her soft skin.

***

She woke up two hours later, at 2 a.m., but not in the way he was expecting. She sprung out, crying and panting, definitely reliving some crazy nightmare. Her whole body was shaking, petrifaction in her  eyes breaking his heart.

“No….” she panted, tears falling down “no, no, no, no, please……” apparently she wasn’t fully awake yet.

“Y/N” he said quietly, not wanting to scare her “It’s ok. It was just a nightmare. You’re safe. I’m here.”

“Di… dick?”

“I’m here, baby” he held her close to his chest, engulfing her in his warm embrace “No one is going to hurt you, I swear.”

“I….”

“Sh. You don’t need to say anything.“ he pulled her in even closer, not sure if he was trying to comfort her of himself. Maybe both. “Unless you want to. Do you want to?”

“No.” she shook her head

“All right then. We can just stay like this.”

“Dick?”

“Hm?” he hummed, stroking her hair and laying back down with her on top of him

“Can you just hold me like this for a while? I … I really need this.”

“Y/N.  We’ve been together for like a year now and you still feel the need to ask me about it?”

“You know…. it comes from my past and……”

“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t need to explain. I will hold you for however long you need. And as long as you will allow me to.”

*** Dick knew she needed space, he did. But the nightmare that happened that one night repeated three more times in a row and he had to confront her about it. How could he let her suffer alone like this?

“Y/n, enough is enough.” He stormed into her room, not caring about the closed door

“What are you talking about?” she raised an eyebrow at him

“You need to tell me what is going on with you.”

“Nothing is…..”

“Stop it” he spat and she flinched at the tone. “Sorry, I did not mean it to come out like this” he rubbed his forehead “but I need to know what’s troubling you. I need to know what I can do to make it better…..”

“Dickie….”

“Please…” he whispered placing himself next to her, grabbing her chin softly making her look at him, knowing well enough she would try to avoid his gaze.

“How can I…..?” she gulped “how can I even begin to explain this…..?”

“Baby, it’s me. I love you. You don’t need to hide.”

“But….”

“Listen to me, nothing, nothing you did can make me change my mind about you.”

“But…..”

“I’m here for you.” he whispered kissing her forehead and this simple gesture broke her as she started sobbing, trying extremely hard to muffle it by covering her mouth with the hand. “What’s the nightmare about?”

“It’s… it’s about my father… Shit, it’s so stupid….. I should be over it, it has been so many years since…..”

“Did he do something to you?” Dick’s voice turned a bit more vigilante- like, his eyes glistening with first indications of rage

“He…. He was on short fuse… and…. Many, many times when I said or did something he did not like …..

“Y/N. You need to tell me exactly what did he do to you.”

“He used to beat me up…..” her voice was now barely a whisper “never enough to leave any bruises or cuts though. At least, not physically” she let out a hysterical laugh while still crying

“I’m gonna find him and kill him” Dick hissed, now turning into vigilante, but quickly getting back on earth. It was not right, whatever fury was running inside his veins. He could not comprehend how anyone, let alone man, fuck!, a father could use any aggression on his beloved girl. No wonder she was upset of late

“Dick, please, I’m sorry. I never should have told you. It was so long ago, I really have no idea why this started taking its toll on me now. Maybe it’s because  I fell for you and … and I don’t really have good experience with men………. I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry? My babygirl. I love you so fucking much, you know it, right?” he pulled her into a hug, kissing her head repeatedly. I would never, never hurt you.” she was shaking hard in his embrace “God. Why did you never tell me this?” she muttered something incoherently, but he did not care about her reasons to keep it secret. “Did he beat your mum too?”

“I… I can’t remember. But to tell the truth, my mum was even worse at times…. She…..” Y/N started hyperventilating “she was more of a vocal aggressor….I… I….”

“Ok, that’s enough. Focus on me, ok? The past is in the past. You are mine to protect and care about and love . Whatever sad story you had, not every man is like your dad. I’m not.”

“I know” she sobbed desperately again “but it just hurts so deep. I never knew….”

“Sh.sh. Don’t worry. We’ll get you help. I promise. I’m not leaving you alone with this.”  

 And that was how she ended up in weekly meetings with psychologist. At first she was doing everything to avoid the uncomfortable, painful parts of her life. The doctor however was not easily manipulated and after first three meeting she was like a zombie, processing all the emotions extruded for years. Letting someone see them, riffle through them and make her fell apart was a lot. And deep inside she was worried if she could pick up all the pieces and figure out who she was under the surface. But slowly, slowly, she was healing and it was as much because of Dick’s and whole Batfamily support as of her own efforts.

*** Sometimes, there were bad days, obviously, sessions that made her feel broken, vulnerable and helpless. And this was definitely the case today. That was why she isolated herself in her room, putting all the information together in her head. And that was why Dick was a bit hesitant to check on her, but decided to give in and talk to her, hoping she won’t cut him out, but when she yanked her hand he wasn’t sure if it was good idea anymore.

“I’m sorry, Dick. I didn’t mean to give you the air” she looked him into the eyes, cupping his cheek “It’s just an old habit. I know you care about me. I’m… I’m still learning how to be more… open with what I feel. And how to get past my… well, past” she chuckled lightly and it was the best view he could ever see.

“Trust me, I’m learning with you. “ he leaned into her touch “And I need you to know that I’m proud of you.”

“Proud?”

“For putting yourself out there. I know it’s hard.”

“Whatever you say, Mr Nightwing.” She punched his chest

“Is this how you wanna play now, Miss Y/N?” he grabbed her wrist and kissed each of her knuckles, simplicity and tenderness of this gesture making her melt.

“Can you hold me?” she burst out “I need to know you are real and not just a friction of my imagination”

“Come here” he opened his arms and she dived in without any inhibitions. “Real enough for you?”

“I love you, you fool.” She mumbled and he laughed wholeheartedly. She was really healing.

“I love you too Y/N. More and more every day. ”

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (15)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: 14

- Next part: 16

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sun hangs high over Dragonstone. The clanging of swords and the shouts of sparring echo off the ancient stone walls. You move with precision, your blade meeting Jace’s with a sharp clang, the force of your strike sending a shiver through your arm. He grunts, his teeth gritted in concentration, and steps back, his stance wary but determined.

“Good, Jace,” you praise, your voice carrying over the courtyard. “But you need to be quicker with your counter. Don’t just defend—respond.”

Jace nods, sweat beading on his forehead, his grip tightening on the hilt of his practice sword. Beside him, Luke and Joffrey watch intently, their wooden swords clutched in eager hands. You’ve been drilling them for hours now, running through new techniques and refining their form. It’s hard, grueling work, but they’re determined, and you’re proud of how far they’ve come.

You catch a movement out of the corner of your eye and glance up to see Daemon leaning against the low stone wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He’s been observing quietly for some time now, his sharp gaze taking in every movement, every correction you make to the boys’ stances.

“You’re being too lenient with them,” Daemon calls out, his tone teasing. “They’re growing soft.”

You smirk, parrying Jace’s next strike with ease. “I’d like to see you do better, Uncle,” you retort, sidestepping and tapping Jace lightly on the shoulder with the flat of your blade. “But I’m afraid you might end up in the dirt.”

Jace’s face flushes with effort and embarrassment, but he doesn’t falter. He launches forward again, his movements sharper now, more precise. You nod approvingly, meeting his attack and countering with a swift, controlled strike that sends his sword flying from his grip.

“You’re thinking too much, Jace,” you advise, lowering your sword as he bends to retrieve his own. “Trust your instincts. When you hesitate, you lose the fight.”

Luke and Joffrey shift restlessly, their eyes fixed on you, eager for their turn. “Patience,” you tell them with a smile. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

From the other side of the courtyard, the sound of laughter drifts over, and you turn to see Rhaena and Baela playing with Aegon and Viserys. The sight makes your heart swell—your family, all together, safe and thriving.

“How’s Rhaenyra?” Daemon asks, his voice softer now, his eyes following your gaze. “I heard she’s resting more these days.”

You nod, a shadow of concern crossing your face. “She’s well, just tired. The pregnancy has been harder on her this time.” You glance up at the stone keep where you know she’s resting, a hand absentmindedly drifting to your sword’s hilt. “The maesters say she needs more rest.”

Daemon’s expression darkens for a moment, then he pushes off the wall, striding toward you with that easy, confident grace that always seems to hang about him. “She’s strong,” he says quietly, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “She’ll be fine. And in the meantime, you’ve got these boys to keep you busy.”

He jerks his chin at Jace, who’s back on his feet, his jaw set with determination. “Well, go on then. Don’t let me distract you.”

You laugh, turning back to Jace. “Ready?”

Jace nods, his eyes locked on yours. “Ready, Father.”

“Then show me what you’ve got.”

The next exchange is faster, more intense. Jace’s strikes come harder, his form tighter. You meet each blow with measured force, letting him push you back step by step, testing his limits, his resolve.

“Don’t overextend,” you advise as he lunges forward, catching his blade and twisting, sending him spinning off-balance. “Watch your footing.”

Luke and Joffrey cheer him on, bouncing on the balls of their feet, eager to jump in. You smile at their enthusiasm, the warmth of it filling you. This—training them, seeing them grow strong and skilled, preparing them for the challenges they’ll face—is everything you’d hoped for when you left King’s Landing behind six years ago.

Daemon watches with a critical eye, his fingers tapping idly against the pommel of his own sword. “You’re teaching them well,” he says, almost begrudgingly. “Better than I would have expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, deflecting another of Jace’s strikes with a quick flick of your wrist. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as high praise.”

Daemon chuckles, the sound low and genuine. “It is. Don’t get used to it.”

The bout continues, your focus split between Jace’s movements and the playful shouts of the younger children nearby. You’re aware of every detail—the shift in Jace’s stance, the tightening of his grip, the way his breath comes in short, sharp bursts. He’s pushing himself hard, testing his limits, and you can see the progress he’s made.

“Good,” you say, meeting his next strike and holding it, your blades locked together. “Now, what do you do?”

Jace hesitates, his eyes flicking down to where your swords meet, and you can see the answer forming in his mind. He shifts his weight, trying to break free, but you twist your blade, disarming him in one smooth motion.

“You hesitate,” you say, stepping back. “That’s the problem. Don’t think—act.”

Jace picks up his sword, his expression frustrated but determined. “Again.”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. “Again.”

From the sidelines, Daemon watches, his eyes gleaming with something like pride. “They’re growing up fast,” he muses, his gaze flicking to his own daughters, who are now sitting with Aegon and Viserys, pointing and laughing as they watch your sparring.

“They are,” you agree, your voice softening. “And they’ll need to. The world won’t be kind to them.”

Daemon’s smile fades, replaced by a hard, thoughtful look. “No, it won’t,” he says quietly. “But they’ve got you, and they’ve got each other. That’s more than most.”

You nod, meeting his eyes. There’s an understanding between you, a shared determination to protect these children, to prepare them for whatever may come.

“Come on, boys,” you call to Luke and Joffrey. “Your turn. Show me what you’ve learned.”

They rush forward, faces alight with excitement, and you brace yourself, ready for the next round. As they swing their wooden swords at you, laughter and shouts filling the courtyard, you feel a rare moment of peace—a moment where everything is as it should be.

The chamber is quiet, the only sound the soft scratching of quill on parchment as Jacaerys painstakingly transcribes a passage from an ancient tome. The light from the high windows spills over the room, illuminating the rows of books and scrolls stacked neatly on the shelves. You watch your son closely, your arms crossed over your chest as he works. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he writes.

“Focus, Jace,” Grand Maester Geraryds murmurs, his voice gentle but firm. The old man stands beside your son, his eyes sharp despite the wear of age. “Precision is just as important as speed.”

Jace nods, his face determined, and adjusts his grip on the quill. You can see the effort he’s putting in, the desire to do well in his studies. It fills you with a deep sense of pride—and a quiet relief. As your heir, Jace will have to be more than just a skilled warrior. He must be learned, wise, and capable of navigating the complexities of the realm that will one day be his responsibility.

From the corner of the room, Rhaenyra reclines on a sofa piled high with cushions, her form graceful despite the weight of her pregnancy. Her ladies-in-waiting hover nearby, attending to her needs, while a servant girl fans her gently. Her eyes are on Jace, a soft smile playing at her lips as she watches him work.

You glance at her, the sight of her surrounded by such care stirring a mixture of emotions in your chest. There’s love, of course, and pride, but also a lingering concern. This pregnancy has been harder on her than the others, and despite her reassurances, you worry.

Jace pauses in his writing, glancing up at you with a hesitant smile. “Is this better, Father?”

You lean forward, scanning the parchment. The lines are more even now, the script clearer. “Much better, Jace,” you say, your tone warm with approval. “You’re doing well.”

Geraryds nods, his expression thoughtful. “Your progress is commendable, Prince Jacaerys. But remember, knowledge is as much about understanding what you read as it is about recording it. We’ll review the text together, and I’ll ask you questions.”

Jace nods eagerly, his eyes bright. “Yes, Maester.”

You smile at the exchange, feeling a swell of pride. Jace is growing into his role, bit by bit, and you can see the promise of the man he will one day become.

The door to the chamber swings open, and Daemon strides in, his presence as commanding as ever. There’s a faint smirk on his lips as he surveys the scene, his eyes lingering on Jace before shifting to you.

“Nephew,” he greets, his tone light but carrying an edge. “I come bearing news.”

You straighten, your attention sharpening. “What is it, Daemon?”

He hands you a folded letter, the seal of the king’s office unmistakable in the candlelight. “A message from King’s Landing,” he says, his voice dropping slightly. “Viserys has summoned us all for a family dinner. It seems he wants to mend what he can while he still breathes.”

You take the letter, breaking the seal and scanning the contents. The words are brief, almost painfully so. Viserys’s hand trembles in the ink, the once-strong script now wavering and frail. He writes of wanting his family together, of wishing for peace in what time remains to him.

There’s a heaviness in your chest as you fold the letter again, your gaze lifting to meet Daemon’s. His face is uncharacteristically serious, his usual air of indifference replaced by something somber.

“There’s little life left in him,” Daemon says quietly, his eyes dark with a sorrow that he rarely shows. “Your father is not long for this world.”

Rhaenyra shifts on the sofa, her eyes wide as she looks between you and Daemon. You walk over to her, sitting beside her and taking her hand in yours. The contact is warm, comforting, but it does little to ease the ache that has taken root in your heart.

You exchange a long, searching look with her, the unspoken emotions passing between you like a current. No matter what bitterness or anger has grown in the wake of others’ actions, the love you both hold for Viserys remains. He is your father, her father, and the prospect of losing him—even after everything—is like a knife twisting in your gut.

“What will we do?” Rhaenyra asks softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her eyes.

“We’ll go,” you say firmly, your gaze steady on hers. “We owe him that much. Whatever else has happened, he’s our father.”

She nods, her grip on your hand tightening. “And the children?”

“We’ll take them too,” you reply, glancing over at Jace, who’s watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “They need to see their grandsire. It might be the last chance they have.”

Daemon makes a low, thoughtful sound, his eyes flicking over Jace and then back to you. “Are you sure that’s wise? The last time we were all together—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your voice firm but not unkind. “But this time will be different. It has to be.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, a cynical smile touching his lips. “You’re too hopeful, nephew. But maybe that’s what we need.”

You turn back to Rhaenyra, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “We’ll go,” you say again, your voice softer now, filled with a quiet resolve. “And we’ll do what we can to honor his wish.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but she nods, her expression determined. “For him,” she agrees.

You stand, turning back to Daemon. “Thank you for bringing the message, Uncle. I’ll make preparations for our journey.”

Daemon inclines his head, a glimmer of something like respect in his eyes. “I’ll see to the dragons, then. We’ll leave at first light.”

As he strides from the room, you look back at Rhaenyra, still holding her hand. The future is uncertain, and the wounds between your family and the Hightowers are deep. But for now, you will go to your father, and you will be the family he needs you to be.

For whatever time remains.

The Red Keep looms above you, its familiar silhouette outlined against a sky heavy with gray clouds. As your party makes its way toward the main gate, you cast a glance back at Rhaenyra, who rides beside you on her horse. Her face is composed, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the tightness in her posture. Behind her, Jace, Luke, Joffrey, while Aegon, and Viserys follow closely in a carriage with their nannies.

Daemon rides on the other side of you, his daughters, Baela and Rhaena, flanking him like shadows. The sight of the Red Keep should have been a welcome return, a homecoming, but there is an unsettling quiet, an absence of the grandeur and formality that should have greeted the heirs to the throne.

“No royal welcome for us, it seems,” you murmur, your voice carrying only to Rhaenyra and Daemon. “The King’s own son and heir, his daughter and grandchildren, and not so much as a guard to receive us.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze sweeps over the battlements, her lips thinning into a hard line. “They want us to feel unwelcome,” she says quietly. “To remind us whose influence holds sway here now.”

Daemon snorts softly, his eyes narrowing as he surveys the castle. “They’ve let the vultures roost on our bones,” he mutters. “But we’ll remind them who truly owns this place.”

As you approach the gates, you notice the heraldry of the Targaryens—the three-headed dragon of your house—has been replaced by the sigils of the Faith of the Seven. Banners bearing the seven-pointed star hang where the crimson and black should have flown, the sight of them making your blood run cold. It’s not just a sign of your father’s decline; it’s a proclamation of the Hightowers’ dominance.

You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching around the reins of your horse. “They’ve turned our home into a temple,” you say, your voice thick with disgust. “This is no longer the Red Keep of the Targaryens.”

Daemon’s eyes flick to the banners, his mouth twisting in disdain. “They’d rather see this castle burn than in the hands of a dragon.” He glances at you, his expression sharp. “But we can’t let their games go unanswered.”

Rhaenyra leans forward, her eyes dark with determination. “We’ll go to Father. Let them see we’re not cowed by their petty displays.”

You nod, turning to the guards posted at the gate. They straighten at your approach, their eyes flicking nervously between you, Daemon, and your men and royal retainers that stand behind your group. “Take us to the King,” you command, your voice brooking no argument. “Now.”

The guards hesitate, exchanging uneasy glances before the senior officer steps forward. “Of course, my prince. If you and your family would follow me.”

As you dismount, you place a steadying hand on Jace’s shoulder. “Stay close,” you murmur to him and the rest of your children. “Keep your heads high.”

Jace nods, his young face set in a determined expression. Luke and Joffrey stand on either side of him, their eyes wide as they take in the unfamiliar surroundings. Aegon and Viserys cling to Rhaenyra’s skirts, their small hands gripping the fabric tightly.

You cast a glance back at Daemon, who gives you a curt nod. His presence is a reassuring weight at your side, a reminder that you are not alone in this viper’s den.

The walk through the keep is a painful reminder of all that has changed. The once vibrant halls feel dim and cold, the energy drained from the very stones. Servants scurry past with bowed heads, their eyes avoiding yours. You can almost feel the judgment and resentment simmering beneath the surface, the unspoken tensions hanging in the air like smoke.

Rhaenyra’s hand brushes against yours as you walk, her touch grounding you. “This place feels like a tomb,” she murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“It’s not ours anymore,” you reply, your tone grim. “They’ve let it wither, just like they’ve let Father.”

As you pass through the corridors, the shift in atmosphere becomes more pronounced. Every corner, every archway, is marked by the influence of the Faith. Priests and septas move about, their solemn faces and plain robes a stark contrast to the opulence you once knew. You scoff under your breath, the sound harsh in the silence.

“They’ve turned this place into a sanctimonious prison,” Daemon says, his voice a low growl. “They’ve done everything but chain him in his chambers.”

“And now they call us back,” Rhaenyra says, a bitter edge to her voice. “To witness what? To watch him die while they hold the reins?”

You stop outside a set of large, imposing doors, the entrance to the King’s private chambers. The guards posted there glance at each other nervously as you approach, their hands shifting on their weapons. The senior officer gestures for you to wait, then moves to knock on the door.

You take a deep breath, your eyes locking with Rhaenyra’s. There’s a moment of shared understanding between you, a recognition of the love you both still hold for your father despite everything. This place, these people, have tried to tear you apart, to destroy the bond that should be the strength of your house. But they have failed.

The doors creak open slowly, and you feel the weight of the moment settle over you like a shroud. 

Daemon’s hand settles on the hilt of his sword, a habitual gesture of readiness. You nod to him, then turn back to Rhaenyra, giving her a reassuring squeeze of her hand.

“Whatever happens,” you murmur, your voice firm despite the knot of anxiety in your chest, “we’re here for him. For us.”

She nods, a fierce light in her eyes. “For our family.”

With that, you step forward, ready to face what awaits inside.

The door creaks open, and you step into the low lit chamber, your family following close behind. The room is filled with the heavy, suffocating scent of incense, mingling with the stale air. It’s a space suffused with shadows, the flickering candlelight casting long, eerie shapes across the walls. In the center of it all, surrounded by heavy drapery and silk cushions, lies your father.

King Viserys, once so strong and vital, is now a frail, gaunt figure against the expansive bed. His body seems to have withered away, skin stretched thin over bones, his once proud features now sunken and pallid. The sight of him, so diminished and fragile, makes your heart clench painfully. He is more ghost than man, the vitality of the king replaced by a husk clinging to life.

You move forward slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. As you draw nearer, Viserys’s eyes flutter open, clouded with pain but still holding a spark of recognition. For a moment, it seems as though he’s looking past you, his gaze searching for something beyond the room. Then, those eyes settle on you, and a flicker of clarity cuts through the haze.

“My son,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a rasp, but there’s a hint of the old strength in it. “My firstborn… my heir.”

The words strike something deep within you, a surge of emotions you can’t quite name. You kneel beside the bed, leaning closer so he can see you clearly. “Father,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady. “I’m here. We’re all here.”

His skeletal hand trembles as it reaches out, the effort of the movement almost too much for him. You take it gently, holding it between your own, careful not to squeeze too hard. His skin is cold, the bones beneath it brittle and frail.

“Good… good,” he breathes, his lips curving in a faint, weary smile. “You’ve come… as I hoped.”

You feel a presence at your back and turn slightly to see Daemon standing there, his face a mask of grim control, though his eyes are soft with something like sorrow. He steps forward, laying a hand on your shoulder before leaning down to speak to his brother.

“Viserys,” he says, his voice low and steady, “you look terrible.” It’s an attempt at levity, a feeble joke in a desperate moment, and Viserys’s lips twitch, a ghost of a smile.

“Daemon… always… the charmer,” Viserys wheezes, his chest shaking with the effort of speaking. “Still… a rogue.”

You glance back, and Rhaenyra is there, her face pale, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She moves to your side, slipping her hand around your arm, her touch grounding you in this surreal moment. She leans over, her voice barely a whisper. “Father,” she says softly, her voice trembling. “We’ve come as you asked.”

Viserys’s eyes shift to her, a spark of recognition and love in his gaze. “Rhaenyra… my bright girl,” he murmurs. “So… beautiful.” He struggles to lift his other hand, and she takes it gently, holding it close to her chest.

Behind you, the children stand in a somber line, their faces a mixture of confusion, fear, and sadness. Jace and Luke exchange glances, their young faces tight with worry. Joffrey stands beside them, his eyes wide as he stares at the frail figure of his grandsire, trying to reconcile the man he’s heard stories about and little he remembers of him, with the man now before him. Aegon and Viserys, too young to fully grasp the situation, clutch at the skirts of their older cousins, their little faces peering out with a mixture of curiosity and unease.

Viserys’s gaze shifts past you to them, his eyes softening further. “The children… let them… come closer.”

You turn, nodding to the boys, and they step forward, moving cautiously toward the bed. Jace reaches it first, his movements careful, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the room. Luke follows, then Joffrey, each of them looking to you and Rhaenyra for guidance.

“They’ve grown so… strong,” Viserys breathes, his voice fading. “Like their… parents.”

He tries to lift his hand again, but the effort is too much. You squeeze his hand gently, your voice catching in your throat. “They’re strong because of you, Father.”

Viserys’s eyes find yours again, a faint, wavering smile touching his lips. “You’re… a good man. I knew… you would be.”

Emotion surges in your chest, and you swallow hard, fighting to keep your composure. “And you’re a good father,” you say, your voice thick. “We’re here because we love you.”

He blinks slowly, as if the weight of those words is too much to bear. His gaze flickers to Daemon, then back to Rhaenyra. “Keep them safe… all of them,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Promise me.”

“We will,” Rhaenyra vows, her voice strong despite the tears shining in her eyes. “We promise, Father.”

The room seems to close in around you, the air filled with the gravity of the moment. There is so much to say, so much left unspoken, but the words won’t come. You can only hold his hand, feeling the fragile pulse beneath his skin, knowing that time is slipping away.

For now, all you can do is be here, by his side, holding on to what remains of the man who was once your strength, your king, your father.

You stand by the window, staring out at the gardens below, your thoughts a turbulent sea. Rhaenyra sits on a chaise, her hands resting protectively over her swollen belly, her eyes distant as she looks at the fire crackling in the hearth. Daemon paces restlessly, his gaze flicking to the door every few moments, his expression set in a hard, unyielding mask.

The children had been taken to their quarters by servants, their confusion and fear hidden behind obedient nods and reluctant steps. You had watched them go, a part of you aching at the thought of how they must be feeling, drawn into this conflict that they can barely comprehend.

The door opens with a soft creak, and Queen Alicent enters, her presence as tightly controlled as ever. She’s dressed in somber hues, her hands clasped in front of her, her face carefully composed. But the moment her eyes meet yours, she hesitates, taken aback by the intensity of your gaze.

You step forward, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Why were we not properly received, Queen Alicent? Why do we wait here, like strangers in our own home?”

Alicent’s composure falters for just a moment before she gathers herself, her chin lifting slightly. “There were pressing matters of the realm that required attention,” she replies, her tone measured, almost rehearsed.

You scoff, the sound sharp and bitter. “I am the heir to the Iron Throne, the Prince of Dragonstone. What matter could be so urgent that it overshadows my return?”

Her lips part as if to respond, but she falters again, clearly searching for the right words. Before she can speak, Rhaenyra’s voice cuts through the room, cold and accusing. “We’ve seen my father, Alicent. What are you doing to him?”

Alicent’s eyes flick to Rhaenyra, a flash of something like guilt passing over her face before she forces it away. “The King is in great pain,” she says quietly. “The milk of the poppy is the only thing that grants him any peace.”

Daemon, who has been watching the exchange with growing fury, steps forward, his voice laced with contempt. “Peace, or stupor?” he sneers. “You and Otto have drugged him into a living corpse, all while you rule in his name. You’ve desecrated the Red Keep with your Faith, turning it into a shrine to your ambitions.”

Alicent’s face pales, but she stands her ground. “You know nothing of what he suffers,” she retorts, her voice trembling slightly. “His pain is—”

“Spare us your platitudes,” Daemon snaps, his eyes blazing. “You’ve poisoned him, hollowed him out until there’s nothing left. All so you and that snake of your father can control everything.”

You feel a cold, hard resolve settle over you, your anger solidifying into something sharper, more dangerous. “It won’t be like this much longer, Uncle,” you say, your voice low but carrying a dangerous edge. “When the throne is mine, I’ll tear every seven-pointed star out of this castle if I have to do it with my own hands.”

Alicent’s eyes widen, shock and fear flickering across her face. “You cannot mean—”

“Oh, but I do,” you cut her off, your gaze unwavering. “And I imagine you’ll be quite eager to return to Oldtown. I’m sure you’ll find it far more comforting than staying here once I am crowned.”

The silence that follows your words is felt, heavy with the weight of the threat you’ve just issued. Alicent’s face drains of color, and for the first time, you see real fear in her eyes. She stares at you, as if seeing you truly for the first time, not as the young prince she once knew, but as the man who now stands before her—a man forged in fire and loss, no longer swayed by the gentle ideals of his youth.

“You’ve changed,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “You’re not the same…”

“No,” you agree quietly, a steely calm in your voice. “I’m not.”

Rhaenyra’s grip tightens on your arm, her eyes fierce as she looks at Alicent. “We will not let you destroy what is ours, Alicent. Not our father, not our home, and not our children’s future.”

Alicent’s gaze shifts between the two of you, and you can see the realization sinking in—the understanding that the balance of power is shifting, that the control she and Otto have wielded for so long is slipping through their fingers.

Her voice is thin, almost pleading. “The King—”

“Is dying,” Daemon finishes, his voice cold and unyielding. “And you’ve hastened it with every lie and every drop of that poison you call mercy.”

Alicent’s mouth opens, but no words come. She takes a step back, her hand clutching at the front of her dress as if she can’t quite catch her breath.

You watch her, your expression hard, unrelenting. “This is your last chance to show some dignity, Alicent. Stop hiding behind your piety and your pity. Stop pretending this isn’t about power.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. The room seems to hold its breath, the silence stretching taut and fragile.

Daemon crosses his arms, his lips curling into a mocking smile. “I suggest you start preparing for your departure, Queen Alicent. It’s clear you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

With those words, the last semblance of calm shatters. Alicent turns, almost stumbling in her haste to leave the room, the door swinging shut behind her with a resounding thud.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, turning to Rhaenyra. She’s watching you with a fierce pride, her eyes shining. You lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s time to take back what’s ours,” you murmur, your voice firm, resolute.

Daemon’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he nods. “And burn anything that stands in our way.”

The dining hall is aglow with candlelight, the flickering flames casting warm hues over the long table set with platters of roasted meats, fruits, and fine wine. Despite the opulence, there’s a tension that underlies every gesture, every forced smile. The Targaryen family sits divided, an invisible line running down the center of the table, separating what should be a united house.

Viserys, at the head of the table, looks more at peace than you’ve seen him in a long time. The shadow of pain still lingers in his eyes, but for tonight, it seems dulled, replaced by a fragile contentment as he gazes around at his family. His thin frame is swathed in the royal colors, and he smiles faintly, his eyes lingering on you and Rhaenyra, then shifting to Daemon and the children.

You’re seated beside Rhaenyra, your eldest sons—Jace, Luke, and Joffrey—lined up next to you. They sit straight and tense, their eyes darting cautiously between their cousins across the table. Daemon, his face a mask of calm, sits at your other side with Baela and Rhaena, who watch the scene unfold with the quiet intensity of those too young to understand but wise enough to sense the undercurrents.

Opposite you, Alicent is seated, her expression strained but polite. Otto is beside her, his eyes sharp and calculating as ever, taking in every word and gesture. Aegon slouches in his seat, his gaze unfocused, while Helaena hums softly to herself, her fingers playing with the delicate golden bracelet on her wrist. Aemond sits straight-backed and still, his single eye moving slowly between you and Luke, his gaze intense and unreadable.

The dinner begins, the clinking of utensils and soft murmurs filling the space. You make small talk with Rhaenyra, your hand resting lightly on hers, trying to ignore the simmering resentment that prickles at your skin. Viserys’s presence is a fragile bridge, holding this fractured family together for one last time. For his sake, you force yourself to maintain the facade.

Viserys’s voice is weak but warm as he speaks, breaking the strained silence. “It brings me joy,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “to see you all here, together. My family.” He pauses, his breath hitching. “I know… there have been disagreements, misunderstandings. But we are all blood. We are Targaryens.”

Rhaenyra nods, her smile gentle but strained. “Of course, Father. We are here to honor you.”

Alicent offers a tight smile. “Yes, Your Grace. We are grateful for this opportunity to be together.”

The words are hollow, and everyone knows it. You catch Aemond’s eye across the table, and his gaze is cold, calculating. There’s something simmering beneath the surface, something dark and unresolved, but for now, he holds his tongue.

You focus on the food, the rich flavors tasting like ash in your mouth. Jace shifts beside you, his discomfort palpable. “Father,” he murmurs under his breath, his eyes flicking to Aemond and then back to his plate. “This doesn’t feel right.”

You squeeze his shoulder gently, leaning in. “I know,” you whisper. “But we do this for your grandsire. For him.”

Jace nods reluctantly, his jaw clenched. You glance at Luke, who is picking at his food, his face pale and tense. You know he feels Aemond’s gaze on him, the weight of that unspoken animosity pressing down like a physical force.

Viserys raises his goblet, his hand trembling. “To peace,” he says, his voice wavering but resolute. “To family.”

Everyone lifts their cups, the toast a murmur of voices that lacks any real conviction. You exchange a look with Rhaenyra, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all. Peace, for now, is a hollow word.

As the dinner progresses, Viserys’s condition starts to deteriorate. His head droops, his breathing becomes labored, and the color drains from his face. You can see the pain creeping back into his eyes, and it’s clear that he’s struggling to keep himself composed.

“Father,” Rhaenyra says softly, concern etching her features. “You should rest.”

Viserys shakes his head weakly. “I’m fine, my dear. I want to… to be here. With all of you.”

But it’s obvious he can’t continue. He slumps forward slightly, his hand slipping from his goblet, and a murmur of alarm ripples through the room. Servants rush forward, helping him to his feet, and Viserys grimaces, his body trembling with the effort.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “I’m… I’m tired.”

They begin to escort him from the room, and you watch, a heavy ache settling in your chest. This might be the last time you see him like this, trying so desperately to hold his family together, to remind you all of what once was.

As soon as Viserys is out of the room, the fragile mask of civility shatters. The silence that follows his departure is taut, brittle. You can feel the shift in the atmosphere, the unspoken tensions that had been held at bay now breaking free.

Aegon leans back in his chair, his lips curling into a lazy, mocking smile. “Well, that was cheerful,” he drawls, his words dripping with sarcasm. “The great family reunion.”

Jace’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. “Show some respect,” he says, his voice tight. “He’s your father too.”

Aegon’s smile widens, more of a sneer now. “Oh, don’t be so serious, nephew. We’re all one big, happy family, aren’t we?”

Luke shifts uncomfortably, his gaze darting to Aemond, whose single eye is still locked on him. “We should just leave,” he mutters to Jace, but the anger simmering beneath his voice is unmistakable.

“Leave?” Aemond’s voice cuts through the room like a blade, cold and sharp. “Running away again, are you, Lucerys?”

Rhaenyra stiffens beside you, her eyes flashing with anger. “That’s enough, Aemond.”

Aemond leans forward, his gaze never leaving Luke’s face. “Tell me, nephew,” he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. “How does it feel to know your father has to constantly shield you from the truth? From who you really are?”

Your blood turns to ice, and you see Luke’s hands clench on the table, his face flushing with anger. “Stop it,” you say, your voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

Aemond smirks, but before he can speak, Rhaena interjects, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “You have no right to speak to him like that. You’re nothing but a coward who hides behind his words.”

The tension in the room escalates, the hostility crackling in the air like a storm about to break. Alicent’s face is pale, her eyes darting nervously between her children and yours, as if realizing how close to the edge this all is.

“Enough of this!” she snaps, her voice strained. “We are here to honor the King’s wishes, not to fight.”

But it’s too late. The façade has crumbled, and the old wounds are bleeding anew. Jace’s voice is taut with barely restrained rage as he turns on Aegon. “Maybe if you spent less time whoring and drinking, you’d understand what family actually means.”

Aegon’s eyes flash with anger, and he rises from his seat, his hands balled into fists. “You little—”

“Don’t,” you say sharply, standing as well. “We won’t do this.”

But even as you speak, you can see the fear and anger in your sons’ eyes, the way Aemond’s smirk twists into something cruel.

The room then erupts into chaos. Aegon lunges across the table, his fist aimed at Jace’s jaw, while Luke shoves Aemond back, his face twisted in anger. Shouts and cries fill the air as the boys collide, chairs scraping across the floor, goblets and plates crashing to the ground.

You’re on your feet in an instant, moving toward the melee. You see Aemond’s hand grasping at Luke’s tunic, yanking him forward with a vicious snarl. The rage in Aemond’s single eye is visible, a dark fire that seems intent on consuming everything in its path.

“Get off him!” you shout, reaching out to seize Aemond by the collar, pulling him away from Luke with a sharp jerk. Aemond stumbles, his grip loosening as you push him back, your own anger flaring.

“Control yourself!” you bark, shoving him toward Alicent and Otto, who stand frozen in shock. “Keep him in check!”

Aemond straightens, fury blazing in his gaze. He recovers quickly, his expression twisting with a hatred that sends a chill down your spine. “You think you can command me?” he sneers, his voice low and venomous. He takes a step forward, eye locked on yours, his intent clear.

But before he can make another move, Daemon steps in, his presence like a wall of iron. He stands beside you, his gaze steady and unflinching as it meets Aemond’s. “If you’ve any sense, you’ll stand down,” Daemon warns, his voice dangerously calm. “You’re outmatched, boy.”

Aemond hesitates, his eye flicking between you and Daemon, weighing his options. His face twists with frustration, but he doesn’t advance, his fists clenching at his sides.

You take a deep breath, your own fury simmering beneath the surface. “This ends now,” you say firmly, your voice carrying over the din. “We’re leaving. We’ll return to Dragonstone until it’s time to come back.”

You turn to Alicent and Otto, who are watching the scene with wide eyes, the shock slowly giving way to something more calculating. “Keep your son in line,” you tell them coldly, your gaze hard and unyielding. “Or there will be consequences.”

Alicent’s face blanches, her eyes darting to Aemond, then back to you. You can see the memory of your earlier words flicker across her face, the promise you made—the warning of what would happen once you were crowned. Fear and something else—regret, perhaps—cloud her expression.

“No, wait!” she says, her voice rising in desperation as she takes a step toward you. “Please, don’t leave like this. We can—”

Rhaenyra is beside you in an instant, stepping between you and Alicent, her gaze like a shield. “There’s nothing left to say,” she states, her voice cold and final. “This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have come.”

Alicent’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and sorrow. “You can’t just—” she begins, her voice breaking. “Please, I’m asking you—”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardens, her chin lifting defiantly. “You’re asking for what can never be given. The Prince you knew is gone, Alicent.”

Alicent looks past Rhaenyra, her gaze searching yours, pleading with a desperation that seems to come from the depths of her soul. “You were once kind,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “You weren’t like this.”

You stare at her, the woman who once sought to win your favor, the girl who had idolized you. But that was another lifetime, another world, and that person no longer exists. “I was a fool then,” you say quietly, your voice firm. “I’ve learned too much to be that naïve again.”

Alicent flinches as if struck, her face crumpling with a sorrow that she can’t hide. Otto steps forward, his hand on her arm, his expression unreadable. “It’s done, Alicent,” he says softly. “Let them go.”

For a moment, you see the struggle in her eyes, the hope that something can still be salvaged. But it’s a fleeting illusion, and she knows it. Slowly, painfully, she takes a step back, her hands falling to her sides.

Rhaenyra’s grip tightens on your arm, her strength and resolve bolstering you. You glance at Daemon, who gives you a curt nod, his eyes gleaming with approval.

“Let’s go,” you say, your voice steady. “We have no place here. For now.”

You turn, guiding Rhaenyra toward the exit, your children following closely behind, their faces pale but defiant. As you leave the hall, you feel the weight of Alicent’s gaze on your back, the unspoken pleas and regrets trailing after you like ghosts. But you don’t look back. This chapter, this farce of reconciliation for the sake of your father, is over.

The path ahead is clear, and your course is set. Whatever comes next, you will face it on your own terms, not theirs. And when the time comes, you will reclaim what is rightfully yours, no matter the cost.

The council chamber of Dragonstone is swarming with a charged energy. Maps and scrolls clutter the large table at the room’s center, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over the faces of those gathered. You stand at the head of the table, surrounded by your advisors, Rhaenyra seated to your right and Daemon to your left. Discussions of defenses, alliances, and plans have filled the air for hours, the stakes rising as the realm teeters on the brink of turmoil.

But now, a heavy silence has settled over the room, anticipation thick in the air. The door bursts open, and a breathless messenger rushes in, his face pale and drawn. All eyes turn to him as he stumbles forward, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Prince,” he gasps, his voice strained with urgency. “My lord, I bring grave news.”

You feel your heart tighten, a sense of foreboding creeping over you. “What is it?” you demand, your voice sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.

The messenger hesitates, his eyes flicking to Rhaenyra and then back to you, as if unsure how to deliver the blow. “King Viserys… your father… he is dead.”

The words hang in the air, echoing through the chamber like a death knell. For a moment, there is nothing but silence, a stunned, suffocating stillness that seems to freeze everyone in place. Rhaenyra’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock, while Daemon’s expression darkens, a shadow falling over his face.

“My brother has been slain,” Daemon says, his voice low and full of barely contained rage. His fists clench at his sides, and there’s a dangerous gleam in his eyes, a fire that promises retribution.

Rhaenyra’s grip tightens on your arm, and you turn to her, seeing not just grief in her eyes but something else—something deeper, a pain that seems to be more than just the loss of her father. “Rhaenyra?” you murmur, concern threading through your voice.

Before she can respond, the messenger continues, his voice trembling. “There is more, my lord… Aegon the Elder has been crowned king. It was done in King’s Landing, before the masses, by High Septon Eustace.”

A wave of shock ripples through the chamber. Your breath catches in your throat, the words striking you like a physical blow. The Hightowers had moved quickly, far too quickly. The realization of what this means, of what has been stolen from you, tightens in your chest, a cold, burning rage building inside you.

“They have usurped my birthright,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, disbelief mingling with fury. “They’ve stolen the crown.”

Chaos erupts around you as your advisors begin to shout over one another, voices rising in anger and shock. Some call for immediate retaliation, others demand caution and strategy. The room fills with a cacophony of voices, the noise rising and falling like the tide. Daemon, ever the warrior, slams his hand down on the table, his eyes blazing. “This is war,” he declares, his voice ringing out above the din. “They’ve declared it by this act of treachery. We cannot let this stand!”

But your attention shifts from the tumult of the council to Rhaenyra, who suddenly lurches forward, her hand gripping the arm of her chair, her face contorted with pain. “Rhaenyra!” you exclaim, fear spiking through you as you move to her side, your hand reaching for hers.

She gasps, her breathing ragged, her face pale as she struggles to compose herself. “The babe…” she whispers, her voice trembling. “It’s too soon…”

Your heart drops like a stone. “No, it’s not time yet,” you murmur, panic rising as you look down at her, your hand hovering over her belly. “It’s too early.”

She shakes her head, her eyes squeezing shut as another wave of pain washes over her. “The babe is coming,” she chokes out, her voice strained.

The room falls silent as everyone turns to look at her, the shock of the news momentarily forgotten in the face of this new crisis. Daemon’s eyes widen, and he takes a step closer, his earlier rage replaced by concern.

“Get the maester!” you shout, your voice echoing through the chamber as you turn to the nearest guard. “Now!”

The guard rushes from the room, and you turn back to Rhaenyra, your heart pounding with fear and helplessness. She grips your hand tightly, her fingers digging into your skin, and you can feel her trembling. You lean closer, your voice soft but urgent. “Hold on, Rhaenyra. Hold on, my love.”

She nods weakly, her breaths coming in short, painful gasps. “I’m trying,” she whispers, her eyes meeting yours, filled with a mixture of fear and determination. “But it hurts… Gods, it hurts…”

You glance at Daemon, his face set in a grim mask, then back to Rhaenyra, your mind racing. The chamber is still buzzing with shock and confusion, but all you can focus on is her, the terror in her eyes, the way she’s clutching at you like you’re the only thing anchoring her to the world.

“Stay with me,” you murmur, pressing your forehead to hers. “We’ll get through this. We have to.”

But even as you speak, you can’t shake the dread that’s curling in your chest, the sense that everything is unraveling, that the world is shifting beneath your feet and there’s no solid ground left to stand on. And outside these walls, the realm is already starting to burn.

The screams reverberate through the halls of Dragonstone, a haunting, guttural sound that twists the gut and chills the blood. You sit beside Rhaenyra, your hands clenched tightly around hers as she writhes in agony, her body arching with the pain that seems endless. Her face is slick with sweat, strands of her hair plastered to her forehead, her eyes glazed with exhaustion and torment.

“It’s been three days,” you murmur, your voice hoarse with worry and helplessness. You brush a damp cloth across her brow, your heart aching with every labored breath she takes. “Please, Rhaenyra… please hold on.”

She grips your hand with a strength that belies her frail state, her nails digging into your skin. “I will not die,” she rasps, her voice raw, each word a battle. “I will not leave you. I will not leave our children.”

Tears burn in your eyes, but you force them back, leaning closer. “I’m here, my love. I’m not leaving you.” It’s all you can say, all you can do. You’ve been here for days, refusing to leave her side despite the pleas and orders of the maesters and midwives.

The room is stifling, the air thick with the smell of blood and sweat, the sounds of Rhaenyra’s suffering echoing off the stone walls. You can hear the whispers of those gathered outside, their voices hushed with fear and speculation. The door remains shut, guarded by loyal men, but you know the weight of this moment is not lost on any of them.

Beyond these walls, Daemon and Jacaerys have taken charge of the war council. With the news of Viserys’s death and Aegon’s usurpation, the realm is poised on the edge of chaos. But here, in this room, there is only Rhaenyra, her pain, and your helplessness.

She gasps, her body tensing as another wave of pain wracks her. “It’s wrong,” she whispers, her eyes wide with terror and agony. “Something is wrong.”

You press your lips to her knuckles, your voice breaking. “You’re strong, Rhaenyra. You’ve always been strong. You can do this. Please, just hold on a little longer.”

She shakes her head, a sob tearing from her throat. “No… the babe…” Her voice cracks, her grip on your hand tightening even more. “Something’s wrong.”

You look up at the midwives and maesters, their faces pinched with worry and resignation. They’ve seen it, too—the signs of a labor gone horribly awry. But they’re as helpless as you are, caught between the duty to their patient and the horror of what is to come.

Rhaenyra’s cries echo in your ears as she fights against the agony, her body convulsing with each failed attempt to bring your child into the world. You don’t know how long you’ve been here—time has lost all meaning, stretched into an endless cycle of hope and despair.

And then, finally, after what feels like an eternity, there is a terrible, wrenching scream, a sound that seems to tear the very air apart. Rhaenyra’s body goes still, her face pale and slack with exhaustion and pain. And in the silence that follows, a cry does not come.

The room is frozen, every breath held as the midwives move, their hands trembling as they lift the still, silent form from between Rhaenyra’s legs. The babe is small, too small, its skin pale and twisted, malformed. Your heart clenches with a pain so fierce it threatens to tear you apart.

“No…” you whisper, your voice breaking as you reach for the tiny form. “No, please…”

Rhaenyra turns her head, her eyes clouded with tears as she looks at the child cradled in your hands. “Visenya,” she whispers, her voice a broken breath. “Her name… is Visenya.”

You stare down at your daughter, your heart shattering as you take in the sight. The tiny, twisted limbs, the malformed face, the scales that dot her skin—a cruel mockery of the dragon she was meant to be. A sob tears from your throat, and you pull her close, your tears falling onto her still, silent form.

Rhaenyra’s body shakes with sobs, her hand reaching out to touch Visenya’s cold cheek. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

You can barely breathe, your grief a weight that threatens to crush you. But even through the pain, there’s a spark of something else—something dark and fierce, a fire that burns deep in your chest, igniting a rage that you can barely contain.

“They did this,” you whisper, your voice shaking with fury. “The Hightowers. They killed her.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen, her tears mingling with sweat as she looks at you, her face a mask of grief and despair. “What… what are you saying?”

“They took everything from us,” you say, your voice rising with each word, the anger boiling over. “They stole the throne, they murdered my father, and now this. They killed my only daughter. Our daughter.”

The room is silent, the weight of your words pressing down on everyone present. The midwives and maesters exchange fearful glances, their faces pale with shock and horror. But you don’t care. The rage has consumed you, and there is no turning back now.

“I swear,” you say, your voice steady despite the fury that blazes within you, “I will make them pay. Every one of them. I will burn their houses to the ground, tear their families apart, until there is nothing left but ashes and blood.”

Rhaenyra’s grip on your hand tightens, her eyes shining with pain and anger. “We will avenge her,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “For Visenya.”

You nod, your gaze never leaving your daughter’s lifeless form. “For Visenya. For all of them. Fire and blood.”

The vow hangs in the air, a dark promise that seems to echo through the room. And you know, in that moment, that there will be no peace, no forgiveness, until the debt has been paid in full.

The war has begun, and you will not rest until every one of your enemies has felt the wrath of the dragon.

[il0veyoujk]

Soldier! Attack!

This is a tickle-related ff, if you are not interested in it, please keep scrolling

Summary: Jungkook returns home from his military service to see his little sister, Nefeli (18)

Warnings: None

Notes: This ff is requested by the beautiful @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae ! I hope you'll like it love! I am sorry I couldn't do it a cheer-up ff, but I remembered it last second, and I couldn't change it, I had to rewrite the whole ff 😭

Lots of love Nef 💕

The sound of the front door shutting wasn't enough to pierce the sound of the loud music Nefeli was busting through her headphones. The young girl was currently in her room, pretending to study. In reality, she was vibing to her favorite music, with her Spanish book widely open in front of her, and her homework waiting.

Nefeli was wiggling her body to the rhythm of the music, feeling like she owned the world. Using her pen as a microphone, she pretended to be the singer and headbanging unstoppably. Just like she used to when she was a little girl.

"We are home!" her parents yelled the moment they stepped home "Nefeli! We have a surprise for you!" her mum used her singsong voice to allure her daughter into coming downstairs.

One, two, three minutes... Nefeli was nowhere to be seen. She was so drowned in her music she hadn't heard anything. Looking at each other, the two middle-aged ones decided to send the surprise to their daughter.

Nefeli was occasionally trying to focus on her exercises, trying to conjugate the verb cosquillear, but the loud Lady Gaga music was too intense to ler her focus. Vibing excitedly, she was enjoying herself way too much to notice an unexpected change in her room.

However, turning her head, the young girl was shocked to see her older brother leaning on the doorframe smirking "Why hello there girly" Jungkook chuckled, amused.

It's been a year since Jungkook left for his military service. He hadn't seen his family all this time. Even though they communicated with letters, it's not the same as seeing each other in real life.

"Eeek! You are home!" Nefeli squealed. She instantly jumped on her brother, letting her headphones fall on the floor "I missed you so much!"

Catching her, Jungkook let out a small groan along with a small giggle "Hehey! I missed you too, little one!" he smiled softly, gently swinging his little sister in the air back and forth.

The two siblings remained all hugged for a while, not bothering to even move a single inch from the spot the young lad was standing "So you still got the moves huh?" Jungkook scrunched his nose cutely and bounced her gently in the air like he used to when she was younger.

"You think?" Nefeli giggled, as she was squishing her brother's cheeks "I had the best teacher!" she smiled widely.

It was true, Nefeli had learned how to sync with the rhythm through BTS video clips. Ever since she was a kid, she would try to copy every choreography her brother and his friends would publish. She had ever mastered some of them! And Jungkook was so proud of her.

A wide, bunny-toothy grin appeared on Jungkook's face. He gently placed a kiss on her cheek and hug her tighter "Aw thank you little one" he giggled softly.

A small smirk though flashed onto Nefeli's face, who giggled softly "Oh I meant Jimin, not you" she shrugged, trying not to show her teasing sense.

However, the small smirk turned into a full-on giggly state the moment Jungkook's fingers started wiggling around on Nefeli's ribs "Oh really? Jimin huh? Not me?" he asked in the most mischievous, warning tone he has ever used.

The surprising, way too missed feeling on her sides, made the young girl erupt into an unexpected loud fit of giggles "Whahahaha--- wait nohohoho pleahahase ahahaha!" she squealed as she was thrashing around in her brother's grip, trying to push herself out of there.

The two siblings would occasionally have tickle fights, usually with the young girl ending up on the receiving end. But it was their dynamic. They loved those cute little fights!

Nefeli failed miserably to escape her brother's arms. Much to her surprise. Usually she would manage after one or two tries. Yet, this time she didn't.

Chuckling mockingly next to his little sister's cheek, Jungkook moved his fingers to Nefeli's favorite, and worst spot: the sides! He started walking towards his own bedroom, letting her now hysterical giggles fill the whole house "You should know better than to tease a soldier, cutiepie!" Jungkook teased, as he was tasering the poor girl's sides.

"Nohohoho stohohop ahahaha! Whahahat did I do ahahaha?!" Nefeli screamed between her loud giggles. She was flailing around in the air in her attempt to fall off of her brother and run away for dear life.

Of course though, that didn't happen. It was nowhere close to happening!

"Oh stop screaming, Nef! You know it's going to happen, stop fighting it" Jungkook used his singsong voice to tease his little sister as he was throwing his sack on the floor and closing the door behind him.

"He's tickling her again" mrs Jeon smiled to herself as she was preparing dinner downstairs. Homemade pepperoni pizza! Jungkook's favorite.

"It's not like she's complaining though. She loves it!" mr Jeon commented as he was reading his newspaper. Yes, the historical tickle fights in the Jeon residence were well-known in the whole neighborhood.

Upstairs in Jungkook's room, Nefeli was trying to fight to escape the ticklish hell she was put into. She was thrown onto the bed and Jungkook was pinning her down with his own body weight and was torturing her poor tummy with his fingertips "Aww you are just as I ticklish as I remembered!" he giggles as his fingertips were shaking on her tummy like crazy.

A deep blush had started spreading on her cheeks as Nefeli was trying to push his hands away all shy "I ahahaham nahahaot ticklish ahaha-AHAHAHA NAHAHAHAO AHAHAHA!!!" she tried to lie... but a few nibbles on her side made the poor girl go ballistic!

Jungkook knew what he was doing... Pretty well! Using her worst against her... "I am sorry what? Did you just dare to lie, little one? Huh?" he smirked widely before moving his nails on her poor armpits and started scribbling on them like crazy.

Instantly pressing her arms on her torso, Nefeli trapped Jungkook's fingers under her armpits, unfortunately for her "Whyhyhy did you cohohome bahahahack so meahahan ahahaha?!" she squealed through her loud giggling.

"Oh no... Now I have to dig my way out... You are so rude" the young lad was enjoying the playful torture he was giving his little sister to the fullest. Not that Nefeli wasn't... but maybe Jungkook was enjoying this a bit more. He had missed her laughter... So here he was now, digging into his little sister's armpits mercilessly, making Nefeli howl in loud giggling and driving her crazy bit by bit.

"Agh!" Nefeli squealed loudly as she was wiggling around like a worm "Nohoho pleahahahase ahahaha I ahaham sorry ahahaha!" she pleaded as her hands were gripping onto her brother's wrists to pull them away from her.

"Oh no no no no no no, you are not getting away with just a few begs" the young lad smirked as he lowered his head again towards her tummy "You are going to regret choosing Jimin over me!"

And that's where Nefeli lost it... She widened her eyes, but before she could even ask for mercy, she instantly felt tiny shots of electricity hitting her unstoppably and all over her midsection, exposed as it was from squirming around too much "NOHOHOHO NOT THE BEHEHEHERRIES KOOK PLEAHAHASE AHAHAHA I AHAHAHAM SORRY!" she screamed in laughter, throwing her head back in ticklish agony.

Jungkook was shaking his own head on Nefeli's tummy to add more to the ticklish sensations. A few chuckles would escape his mouth while he was blowing raspberries all over Nefeli's midsection "Oh so now we're using nicknames huh? Such a cheap way to escape your punishment, little one..." he mumbled on Nefeli's soft skin.

This situation kept on for about three more minutes. Having moved his fingers to her sides, Jungkook wasn't planning on showing any hint of mercy any time soon... The whole house was filled with hysterical laughter and nonstop begging from Nefeli's way too ticklish reactions.

However, a well-known voice interrupted the playful assault of the Jeon siblings "Kids! Dinner's ready!" mrs Jeon yelled for her children.

Everything stopped instantly. Jungkook let go of his little sister in an instant and pulled away. It's been months since he's eaten his favorite food! "This isn't over..." he mumbled, poking a few times Nefeli's tummy and sides before eventually letting her go "I just have to gain some more energy for round two... You better disappear!" he smirked, winking at his little sister.

As Jungkook ran downstairs to grab a bite, Nefeli remained on his bed in a ticklish delirium, with a wide smile on her face. She was trying to catch her breath hopelessly, as a few leftover giggles were leaving her mouth.

Jungkook made his case clear... She better hide!

[kandadze]

Ep 32 loose thoughts

Oh hell that was a *bad* idea, WX! And why is she by herself? Was PSJ not in the dungeon after all?

Ahhh okay she still *is* in the dungeon, oh ffs

She at least has her brother when things get *real* bad... I spoke too soon. Hello there, another illusion! Get him, PSJ, punch that goddamn smirk off of his face!

I see this episode will be a montage of at least three fight sequences going on at the same time. Oof, I felt ZYZ taking that fireball in the back to protect ZYC right in my gut, how many times will they be each other's shield before one of them shatters?

Speaking of which. Can someone shatter this asshole already???

Come on, ZYC, you know there's no way WX and PSJ could be there for real! All of this is just another illusion feeding off your biggest fear!

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

Right, it's an illusion within an illusion. I can't with this drama.

How many times did ZYZ let himself bleed on ZYC's blade at this point? I should go back and count. Look at me, I know that no matter how the end might break me, I *will* go back and rewatch the whole thing...

Fuckkkkk the way I cheered when the swirl of leaves appeared! (Also, ZYZ using his hand to protect ZYC's face... I repeat, how many times will they be each other's shield??? 😭)

Oh LL, joining the self-sacrificial idiots squad! And ZYZ's concern for him coming out of his cultivation too early. LL's smile in response! Fuck the things that could've been 😭

Ngl it's kinda funny how they're having those prolonged and emotional conversations while the villain just stands there, totally hearing every word even though he's way too far for it to be possible (unless he added some hearing related mcguffin to his demonic upgrade), and not really doing anything of substance. Not sure if it's intentional to show how much he believes in his own advantage, or is this a thing in xianxias in general, either way, thanks for the (choked, but still) laugh, now let's see if Qing Geng can help detoxify the poison in ZYC. (Seriously, what's with cdramas and poisons?)

Ah, fuck, I knew that they showed us the red glowing eyes on Fei for a reason. Seriously, I hope WZY *burns*.

OMG the sound of Bai Jiu's bell woke ZYC up enough for him to reach for the antidote!!! Team effort once more! I love how they show us again and again that our gang's strength comes from their love for one another! 😭😭😭 (And fuckkkk, Qing Geng used her inner core for the antidote! The scene in the MV, of these three watching golden dust dissipate in front of their eyes, was of her death... oh man, I know I said I'd prefer everyone to die if it meant no one was left behind to suffer, but it's as if they heard me and went, let's start with the secondary characters who gutted you the most the first time around, shall we? 😭)

Meanwhile, the villain is still alive and well, and LL's taking the brunt of his fire attacks, while being, y'know, a *tree* demon. *Both* ZYZ and ZYC reaching out to steady him!!! What a shot! No matter what happens next, this was *so* satisfying to see. (Also, can I just say how I love LL's hairdo here, and how all the adornments are made of things you can get or make out of various tree parts! A+)

Seriously, the piece of garbage does *not* deserve such a beautiful "true form". Please die already, you've wasted enough of everyone's time. Hopefully knowing where his inner core is will help in achieving just that.

The way I cheered when PSJ finally landed a killing blow on the lackey. And then I promptly choked at the candy bit (flashed way back to The Untamed lol). How dare they make me feel emotional like thissss!

And that's the end of the ep? I feel like the girls got seriously sidelined in this one, but at least we got some badass sequences (PSJ) and some aesthetic slamming against the pillars (sorry, WX). I'm also  afraid that sending Bai Jiu away, even though done for his immediate safety, is gonna backfire horribly... only one way to find out! (Ngl, I'm really scared for what's still to come.)

On to ep 33! (Will I get any sleep tonight? Probably not. I might post the rest of the commentary only tomorrow though, I'm getting really drained.)