#char: aye aye | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lxclerc · 1 year ago

Text

𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭 — 𝐚𝐚𝟐𝟑

summary… the leclerc twins have a reputation of messing with drivers and they’ve got their eyes set on poor alex albon request… yes. pls let me sleep laura faceclaim… char argyrou pairing… alex albon x leclerc!reader

note… because laura graduated and got her driver’s license, i caved @coffeehurricanes

note again… this was surprisingly really fun to write as someone with my own annoying twin brother so it ended up longer than i meant it to which means this will have a part 2

part 1 | part 2

masterlist

yn_leclerc

liked by lorenzotl and others

yn_leclerc serving cunt (as always) (with my 3 fav minions)

view all comments…

username yn casually and unknowingly dropping alex thirst traps

⤷ username she knows she’s feeding the alex girlies

charles_leclerc charles erasure

⤷ yn_leclerc you know youre my most fav (you have the most money)

⤷ charles_leclerc gee thanks

alex_albon i thought you’d put slime on my hair

⤷ yn_leclerc i told you i wouldn’t. i was trying to style your hair 🙄🙄🙄

⤷ alex_albon i have 0 trust in you

⤷ username alex is waiting for that mega prank like the rest of us are

⤷ username i’m fully convinced they’d make alex cry worse than lando

⤷ landonorris it was one time and they ruined my limited edition louis vuitton

⤷ yn_leclerc *accidentally*

⤷ charles_leclerc that i paid for

arthur_leclerc hanging out without me now

⤷ yn_leclerc you were too busy crying abt having no seat for next season 🤗

⤷ username one thing about yn is that she’ll always give her brothers the painful unfiltered truth

username ok but not enough people are talking abt shirtless alex

⤷ username no bc picture me this; shirtless alex, they’re alone and she’s fixing his hair

⤷ username …that does sound oddly intimate

⤷ username yall are tripping. she and arthur did the same thing to oscar and max remember, became super close with them then pranked them when they least expected it

⤷ username yes but also it’s been literal months with alex

⤷ username that just means that the prank will be spectacular

arthur_leclerc

liked by alex_albon and others

arthur_leclerc we are in badly need of your prayers for my twin sister, y/n 😓😞🙏

she’s fine. she’s just so insanely down bad for a man that she can’t say it to his face and needs me to follow them around so she can hang out with him bc she can’t look him in the eye.

view all comments…

leclerc_pascale ay, arthur! J'ai eu peur pour ta sœur ! (you had me scared for your sister!)

⤷ arthur_leclerc Tu devrais avoir peur, maman ! Elle pleure cet homme tous les soirs et il ne sait même pas qu'elle l'aime. (you should be scared, mom! she cries over this man every night and he doesn’t even know she likes him)

⤷ yn_leclerc Taisez-vous ! !! fermez votre bouche ! arrêtez de parler ! (shut up!!! keep your mouth shut! stop talking!)

yn_leclerc you’re dead to me 🙂

yn_leclerc 🖕🖕🖕

yn_leclerc j'aurais dû te manger dans le ventre de ta mère (i should have eaten you in the womb)

yn_leclerc you no longer have a sister

⤷ arthur_leclerc Comment faire autrement pour flirter avec **** ? (how else will you flirt with ****?)

⤷ yn_leclerc TAISEZ-VOUS !!! (SHUT UP!!!)

charles_leclerc a man, huh?

⤷ lorenzotl 🤔🤔🤔🤔

⤷ yn_leclerc no ❤️

⤷ username she gives no fucks 😭

username what are brothers for if not to publicly humiliate you?

username she’s so me coded actually

alex_albon prayers 🙏

⤷ arthur_leclerc thanks, mate. we appreciate it

alexandrasaintmleux and if i speak

⤷ yn_leclerc alexandra malena saint mleux don’t you dare

⤷ charles_leclerc you know too???

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux 🤐🤐🤐

username she’s like me bless

username for a M*N??

alex_albon

liked by yn_leclerc and others

alex_albon was just trying to buy midnight snacks and then we got lost

view all comments…

yn_leclerc we didn’t get lost bc i had a map 😁

⤷ alex_albon that you didn’t know how to use

⤷ yn_leclerc you weren’t exactly offering your map reading knowledge either, albono

⤷ alex_albon watching you struggle was adorable

⤷ username HE CALLED HER ADORABLE

⤷ username idc what anyone says, i am an ynalex truther

arthur_leclerc i was there too, guys

⤷ yn_leclerc you complained the entire time

⤷ arthur_leclerc because you woke me up to accompany you guys

charles_leclerc why is there a puddle on the floor?

⤷ yn_leclerc alex dropped one of the ten liters big water bottle

⤷ alex_albon lies. y/n dropped it and i had to say i did because she looked like she’s about to start crying.

⤷ charles_leclerc yeah, that sounds like my sister

username alex, don’t trust them or else they’ll make you cry like they did lando

⤷ username we’re looking out for you 😭

georgerussell63 mate, don’t be getting comfortable with those two

⤷ yn_leclerc slander

⤷ arthur_leclerc fake

⤷ georgerussell63 you put a rat in my cereal

⤷ arthur_leclerc *plastic* rat

⤷ georgerussell63 i dropped and cracked my phone

⤷ yn_leclerc sounds like you were being clumsy 💁‍♀️

username george is forever traumatised by that rat

username hear me out 👀

yn_leclerc

liked by alex_albon and others

yn_leclerc thirst trapping bc posting on my close friend that only has him in it isn’t enough apparently

view comments…

username she is so me!!!

username doesn’t matter how famous or pretty you are, you’ll always have an instagram close friends with only him in it

logansargeant i saw your close friends story on ****’s phone a few days ago 🤔🤔

⤷ yn_leclerc why were you looking over his phone you muppet?

⤷ logansargeant i just happened to glance by

⤷ username it’s alex. i’m fucking telling you all. ITS ALEX

⤷ username there’s literally no way it’s not alex

⤷ username it could be oscar

⤷ username bitch since when was o s c a r four letters?

⤷ username jack is four letters. they could be trying to throw us off

⤷ username JUST ACCEPT THAT ITS ALEX

charles_leclerc put a shirt on

⤷ yn_leclerc no ❤️

⤷ charles_leclerc 😡😡😡

⤷ username she’s always so unserious when it comes to charles lmao

arthur_leclerc abt to bleach my eyes brb

⤷ lorenzotl pass it over after

⤷ charles_leclerc pass it here too

⤷ yn_leclerc i could build a castle out of all the bricks they throw at me 💁‍♀️

username those leclerc genes are leclercing

username girl get the hell up 😭😭

charles_leclerc added to his story!

yn_leclerc

liked by alex_albon and others

yn_leclerc in the 1500s off in a foreign land, i was forced to marry another man (he can’t take the hint that i’ve been in love with him for years now)

view all comments…

username whoever he is, please just ask her out already 😭

username girl, i’ve said this before but for the love of god get the hell up!!! you are better than this!

⤷ yn_leclerc i fear i’m not, bff 😔

⤷ username man down 😓

logansargeant i’m telling you rn that he’s as in love with you!

⤷ yn_leclerc did he tell you that 🤨

⤷ logansargeant no but he wouldn’t have put up with for this long if he doesn’t

⤷ yn_leclerc he’s put up with you for an entire year

⤷ logansargeant yes but he’s paid to put up with me

⤷ username this is all the confirmation that i need. it’s alex

username take the goddamn hint already @alex_albon

charles_leclerc WHO IS IT

⤷ lorenzotl it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?

⤷ charles_leclerc okay but whoooooo

⤷ username charles is worse than alex 😭

arthur_leclerc this is getting pathetic. @alex_albon it’s you mate. she likes you, you like her. kiss it out 🙄

⤷ yn_leclerc ARTHURRRRRRRRR

⤷ username arthur 😭😭😭😭😭😭

⤷ charles_leclerc WHAT?

username arthur starting chaos bc hes so tired of listening to y/n mope 😭

username arthur revealing y/n’s crush and publicly embarrassing her (again), charles being shocked not having a single clue and lorenzo not caring as much is peak brother behaviors in ways i cannot explain

username i fucking told yall its alex

landonorris mate dont leave a lady waiting @alex_albon

⤷ oscarpiastri yeahhh

⤷ yn_leclerc both of you shut the hell up before i replace your shampoo with nair

⤷ landonorris how would you even have access to my shampoo-

⤷ oscarpiastri don’t ask mate. she’s done it before to dennis in f3

username paging @alex_albon

username @alex_albon dont fucking fumble a bad bitch like her come on now

alex_albon oh?

⤷ yn_leclerc public announcement that y/n y/m/n leclerc has died in a ditch and cannot be contacted at this hour. or ever.

⤷ alex_albon i know where you live

⤷ yn_leclerc locking the doors and putting salt around the property as we speak

happy birthday and congratulations to my most loved laura. i love and adore you and i can’t wait to watch you be the woman that you’re always been capable of.

#formula 1 #f1 #alex albon #arthur leclerc #charles leclerc #alex albon x reader #formula 1 smau #alex albon fluff

2K notes · View notes

iamyourdailydoseofbi · 8 months ago

Text

RUN RABBIT, RUN RUN RUN. ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: DARK! King Aegon ii Targaryen x Common Folk! Reader prompt: Aegon has been watching you from years. Now that he is King, he intends to make his intentions clear. key: Y/n = Your name, R/n = Random name, E/C = eye color word count: 1, 000+ words

He was six and ten when he first met you, well more of, he saw you from a distance. You were a pretty little thing⎯well, for some common folk girl, you were pretty. From what he saw from a distance, you worked as a barkeep, cleaning tables and sometimes serving ale or whatever shitty drink they served at that tavern.

You were pretty, maybe growing more so in a few years, but enough for the other drunks to take notice as well. He didn’t like it. Even though he had never spoken to you, or really interacted with you at all. You were his pretty little barekeep to gawk at.

It took everything in him to not set Sunfyre upon all of them, burning the shitty little tavern up in flames. So then, he could take their charred remains and show what happened when others touched what was his. But, he digressed. For now.

Slowly sauntering into the tavern, he searches for you in the crowd of common folk, his gaze predatory and determined. Since his coronation as King, he had been busy, far too busy to leave the Red Keep to go to Flea Bottom. All he wished for now was to have a drink and watch you as he had done a dozen times before. He was sure if he was going to speak to you yet. It wasn’t that he did not have the courage to speak to you.

He was a Targaryen, and now King, he had nothing to feel ashamed of or worried about. But rather he liked the way you squirmed under his gaze. He liked the way you would grow stiff and then blush a soft pink when you realized that it was just him. It was adorable and a good ego boost to know that he could get you all flustered without even needing to speak.

“All hail the new King!” Some drunk slurs aloud, “From the King of Flea Bottom to the King of the Seven Kingdoms!”

“Aye!”

“All hail!”

Rolling his eyes at the drunken babbling that filled the tavern, he sits down at his usual table, kicking his feet up on a chair. Drumming his fingers against the table, he looks around for you, growing wary as he doesn’t see you in the tavern. Clenching his jaw tightly as his temper starts to rise, he holds back at lashing out, his mind running a million miles per hour.

“Where the hell is that damn girl?! Y/n!” A barkeep behind the bar rants, “Oi! You, go get Y/n.”

Not even the other barkeep’s knew where you were at. You weren’t here. You were always on time. Why the fuck were you not here? Where the fuck were you at?

Feeling his temper bubbling with each second that he doesn’t see you, the loud slamming of a door fills the tavern, nobody paying any mind to it. Seeing you walk inside all soaked from the rain, he instantly calms down at sight of you.

Slowly trailing his eyes over your soaked figure, you look ethereal like this. Hair all soaked and clothes sticking to you like a second skin, accentuating your curves. Feeling a presence beside him, he snaps out of his daze, seeing some other barkeep trying to speak to him.

“Can I⎯”

“No, no, her. I want her.” He orders, pointing at you.

Watching as you dried yourself off with a rag, he smirks at how your linen underskirt was practically sheer. He wondered, if he spilled his seed in you, would a bastard grow in your belly? Would then he be able to whisk you away to the Red Keep, far far away from the drunks and fools that surrounded you both? After all, you would be so grateful for him to do such a thing. You, some lowborn common folk girl, getting the luxury of carrying his child in your belly.

“Bring me her. I will take nothing but what she brings to me.” He orders.

Feeling a familiar pair of predatory eyes on you, you slowly turn around to see the now King, watching you. He sat at the same table as always, in the center where he and those silvery locks could be gawked at. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you watch as R/n walks away from the table, rolling her eyes hard with a scowl. Cocking her head to Aegon, you didn’t even have to ask to understand that he had rejected her.

Wiping your hands dry with the rag, your eyes locked onto Aegon’s, e/c meeting predatory violet eyes. Shivering at the gaze, R/n motions for you to go to him with a cock of her head, her iration clear as day at not getting any coin from him. Mustering up your courage, you walk over to him, coming face-to-face for the first time ever. He was a lot more handsome up close. Alluring violet eyes, silvery white Targaryen hair and pouty lips.

“Do you wish to make your King happy?” He asked, his voice rough and low.

“I do, your grace.” You nod, “ How can I be of service to you?”

“I can think of many ways.”

Growing tense at the lewd comment, you shift in place, unsure if he was jesting with you or if he was being serious. You have never spoken to him up to this point, just watching from afar or in passing. You could not tell. Chewing on your bottom lip a little nervously, he places a hand on your waist, letting out a full belly laugh. Weakly nodding unsure, he slowly trails his hand down to your hip, not quite inappropriate but not appropriate at the same time.

“Can I get you some ale, your grace?” You ask, attempting to change the subject.

“No.”

“Or mayhaps some bread from the kitchen?” You try again, “I am sure we can find something for you if that is what you desire.”

“No.”

Blushing under his intense gaze, he slowly stands up from his seat, looking like a predator stalking its prey. Tilting your head up as he towers over you, you resist the urge to cower, not wanting him to see your fear. In your time working here you learned men tended to like seeing women cower, it was like a game to them. Softly gulping as he digs his nails into your hip, a voice in the back of your head tells you to run away, that he was dangerous. But, your legs would not let you move.

“Your grace?” You whisper, your voice weak.

“Then you will not scream, cry, or protest as I take you back to the Red Keep.” He whispers, “I would hate to have to kill you when I have just gotten you within my grasp. Now walk, my little rabbit.”

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

#house of dragons x reader #house of dragons #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd season 2 #tom glynn carney

700 notes · View notes

kindersurprisebacterium · 29 days ago

Text

Jealous (Soap/Ghost/Reader)

Continued in “Content (Ghost/Soap/Reader)” and “Fulfill (Ghost/Soap/Reader)”

CW: threesome, ghost/soap in an established relationship, friends with benefits, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, cum as lube, anal sex, biting, dacryphilia, alcohol, simon is soft

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader: They/Them used

WC: 3.1K

“Aye shut up,” he groaned. Slamming the controller down on the couch cushion. I laughed, chest heaving as the screen in front of us flashed. I felt warm, even in just a tee and a pair of shorts. Beer flowed through my veins, loosening every bit of tension left in me after a long day at work.

I always did enjoy it when he was home on leave. Nights spent at his house, falling asleep in a messy pile of tangled limbs on his couch. Things had noticeably shifted ever since he brought home Simon.

I wasn’t jealous per se. I knew the quickies we had were just a temporary fix until either of us found a partner. It was just shit luck that none of the dating apps never worked out. Just shit luck that I ended up filled to the brim with tension, eyes welling with tears as the dull buzz between my legs intensified.

Part of me knew he could tell, whether it was my bouncing leg or my snappy attitude, something gave it away. That was why, when he sent a single text, I perked up. An image of a case of beer and two PlayStation controllers, beneath were two words.

“Come over.”

“How’d they let you in the military if you’re this shit at aim?” I laughed, pushing his shoulder.

“Not my forte, doll,” he shook his head. A flash of white flooded the screen. My character's body went limp, charred to a crisp. He tossed his head back against the couch, a deep laugh bellowing from his chest.

“That, my dear, is how it’s done.” He held his hands up in the air, a satisfied smirk on his face. My jaw went slack, brows furrowing as I set the controller down on the coffee table.

“I’m fucking leaving,” I couldn’t hide the smile that crept across my face. Forcing a pout, I stood, reaching down to grab my bag. The hardwood floors creaked, and in one motion a set of arms were around my waist. He grunted, tugging me back onto the couch. A laugh bursted from my chest, legs kicking as he tugged me into his embrace.

“You said you’d stay the night, and you’re not driving home with how drunk you are,” he spoke matter-of-factly. He frowned, sticking out his bottom lip.

“Fine, fuckin’ get off of me. You smell like cheese.” I nudged my elbow into his ribs. His bruising grip on me didn’t relent. Instead he leaned in, stubble brushing against my cheek.

“You’re dramatic. You ate as much of that Brie as me.” He pressed his nose to my neck, roughly inhaling. I kicked my legs, squirming in his grip. “Smells cheesy.”

“Johnny!”

The door opened. In an instant I stilled, eyes whipping to the open doorframe. A hulking wall of muscle stepped in, dressed in an oversized black hoodie and basketball shorts. I knew who it was, even if he had a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face. Music blared from his headphones. It was loud enough to hear from the doorway.

With a slam, the door closed. The man kicked his shoes off, narrowing his eyes at the scene before him. He shrugged the strap of his duffel bag off of his shoulder. With a thud it landed on the floor.

“How was your workout, Si?” Johnny grinned, fingers splaying over my stomach.

The man merely grumbled in response, stepping into the living room and turning down the hall. I groaned, squirming free of Johnny's grip. My hands went to my shorts. I tugged the hem down over my thighs, trying to ignore how much the fabric had ridden up.

“I’m sorry-” I sputtered, tugging the blanket over my bare thighs.

I could hear the shower turn on, white noise filling the apartment. Johnny chuckled, grabbing his controller from the coffee table. He grunted, settling beside me. I watched as he tugged the blanket over both of our laps. I swallowed, feeling his sweaty thigh brush against my own.

“Sorry for sucking ass at this game?”

He hit unpause, not bothering to wait for me to grab my controller. I pursed my lips into a thin line, tongue sticking out of the corner of my mouth. I aimed my scope at Johnny, quickly pulling the trigger. His side of the split screen flashed red.

“Aye, y’always were good at head,” he nudged me with his elbow. My breath hitched, fingers slipping over the controller. Another flash of white and a ball of orange fire consumed my character. “Not very good at lookin’ where you’re goin’ tho, aye?”

Out of the corner of my eye I could feel his blue eyes on me. Those plush lips curled into a smirk, canines glistening in the blue light. I swallowed down any response, mouth going dry.

He nudged me again. His thumbs stilled on the controller. Taking the chance, I aimed at his motionless character.

The screen faded to gray, soon being replaced by a pause menu. I sighed, setting my controller down beside me.

“Doll.” He rested his hand on my thigh, gently squeezing. “Talk to me,” his fingers dug into my flesh.

“Johnny, unpause the game.” I spared him only a quick glance before looking down at my lap.

“Why you acting so weird,” he whined with a pout. “Not even lookin’ at me.”

“I just-” I paused, lips parting, but tongue motionless. “I didn’t know Simon would be on leave too.” The words came out harsher than I intended. I sat up, holding my hands out. “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Someone’s jealous,” he grinned, squeezing my thigh.

“Johnny no-”

“I didn’t forget about you, I promise.” His fingers brushed higher, fingertips skating along my inner thigh.

I gripped his wrist, fingers barely able to wrap around. My brows furrowed as I pushed his hand away. He didn’t budge, instead choosing to glide even higher with renewed vigor.

“Johnny what are you doing?” I pulled away from his grip. His other hand grasped my shoulder tight. With every wiggle, every protest, he held me still.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he cooed, leaning in close enough for his facial hair to brush my jaw.

“Johnny, Simon is in the other fucking room,” I spoke sternly. My teeth gritted, eyes locking onto the bathroom door.

“So?” His tone was childish. “Keep talkin’ about how your tinder dates go so bad. This pussy needs some lovin’,” his palm cupped my clothed cunt. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip. A dark stain had formed at my core. My arousal soaked through the thin cotton.

He moaned, sliding three fingers up my core. My breath hitched, breathy moans getting caught in my throat.

“Cunts practically drooling,” he muttered next to my ear. His fingers slipped under the band of my shorts. I gasped as his fingers found my throbbing clit. He smirked against my skin as he rubbed quick circles into the bud. I whined, hips steadily rocking against his palm.

“Johnny-” I whimpered. He pressed soft kisses along my jawline before dipping down to my neck. Two of his digits slid down my slit before sliding into my entrance. The heel of his palm ground against my clit as he began slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of me. I grasped his Mohawk, tugging his face further into the crook of my neck.

With every thrust, lewd squelching emanated from my cunt. I glanced down at my lap with half-lidded eyes, watching as he fingered me beneath my shorts.

Soft kisses and licks soon turned to harsh sucks and bites. I mindlessly rocked my hips against his fingers, moaning as he left purple marks in the wake of his kiss. His teeth sunk into my pulse point, hard enough for little bubbles of blood to rise to the surface. He groaned, licking over the mark and whispering soft apologies into my marred skin.

“Fuck-” he cursed, squirming in his seat. “Need to feel you.”

He pulled me by my thigh, shifting me onto my back. With wide eyes I stared as he hovered over me. A deep blush settled over his cheeks. His blue eyes had shifted from cerulean to navy as his pupils dilated. The outline of his cock showed through his sweats. He was stiff, a small wet spot at his tip.

“Need it so bad-” he spoke through grunts as he rutted his stiff cock against my thigh. “Miss this cunt so much.”

I glanced at the bathroom door. Steam poured from the gap at the bottom of the wood. Biting my lip, I turned my focus to Johnny. Surely, if he was okay with it then it would be fine, right?

“Fuck- okay.” I pushed my shorts over my hips. Bending my knees, I ripped the sodden fabric from my legs. He shoved his sweats down just enough for his leaking cock to spring free. He pushed my knees to my chest, blue eyes fixated on my cunt as he lined himself up.

The stretch of his cock ached. It’d been a while since I’d felt this. I tossed my head back against the armrest, a lust-drenched moan falling from my lips. He inched his cock inside me, grunting as I fluttered around him. He braced himself with one hand on the armrest, the other gripping my hip with a bruising strength.

“Missed this cunt so much-” he grunted as he bottomed out.

“Move, please” I stared up at him through my lashes, tears brimming in my eyes. I felt so undeniably full, stretched to the brim, and yet I needed more.

His pace was fast, with a strength that jolted my body. The slap of his hips against my ass echoed through the room. I couldn’t help the unfiltered moans that fell from my lips. At this point any previous thoughts of Simon had faded, replaced with the thick cock splitting me open.

His eyes squeezed shut, jaw going slack as he moaned. Damp curls stuck to his forehead. Sweat beaded down his toned chest. His fingers kneaded the flesh of my ass. His eyes were fixated on my thighs, fat rippling with every thrust.

“Squeezin’ my fuckin’ cock,” he groaned, gaze meeting mine. “Tell me how bad you needed this.”

“S-o-o b-a-a-d,” my voice quivered with every slap of his hips. He smirked, staring down at me with half-lidded eyes.

“That’s it. I’ll fuck you so good. Make up for lost time,” he babbled, thick brows knitting.

Every drag of his cock against my insides had my heart fluttering. Tension built in my core, every thrust only adding to the burning fire in my limbs.

He tugged my legs over his hips, toying with my limbs as if I were a doll. His big palm splayed over my stomach, pushing down hard enough to feel his cock stretching me out. I moaned as white spots filled my vision.

He fucked into me faster, every grunt lifting in pitch. The deep blush on his cheeks spread down his neck to his chest.

“Fuckimsoclose-” he sputtered. His pleasure drew him further into me, hips pistoning in and out of me at a brutal pace. My muscles tensed, toes curling, thighs quivering around his waist.

My eyes screwed shut, brows furrowing as the building tension snapped. A jolt of electricity washed over my body as every nerve ending fired at once. I choked out a sob, cunt squeezing around his cock.

Static washed over my body, muscles going limp in his grasp. I turned my head, cheek pressed against the suede. A stream of light flooded the room, dappled by plumes of steam. A muscular figure stood in the doorway, halting his gait.

With a final thrust, Johnny stilled. Warmth flooded my core, spilling down my inner thighs. I whined as he pulled out. My vision slowly came back into focus. My gaze locked onto the set of bare feet in front of me, slowly climbing higher. With his blonde hair dripping wet and a towel loosely hanging off his hip, he stood in front of me. Simon Riley.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-”

My breath hitched when I felt his hand graze my knee. He parted my legs, brown eyes raking across my abused cunt. His palm slid up my inner thigh, ignoring any apology that fell from my lips. Johnny sat back on his shins, watching as his boyfriend spread my cunt with two fingers. Cum oozed from my pussy, coating my inner thighs.

“He didn’t even bother to clean you up, did he?” Simon shook his head. With a wave of his hand, Johnny rose to his feet. Simon took the Scots' place, leaning down to press a kiss to my thigh. I clasped my hand over my mouth, muffling the whine that rose from my sticky chest. His eyes didn’t leave mine for a moment as he kissed higher and higher and higher.

My hips twitched when he ran his tongue up my slit. He groaned, throwing my legs over his shoulders. His strong nose bumped against my clit as his tongue lapped up his boyfriend's cum.

“Fuck! Simon!” I cried, rutting my hips against his face. Johnny, standing idly, stared at the scene with wide eyes. He moaned into my cunt, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. I whined as his tongue ran up my slit. He pressed a chaste kiss to my puffy clit before sitting back on his shins.

He was visibly erect under the towel. His hand gripped his cock through the cotton. I propped myself up on one elbow and used my other hand to tug at the towel. He grasped my wrist with his calloused fingers.

“You got room in you for one more round?” He pushed my hand away before bringing his fingers back to the towel. His fingertips tantalizingly danced along the edge of the towel.

“Yeah,” I nodded.

He dropped the towel to the ground. My eyes locked onto his bobbing cock. He was longer than Johnny, but not as thick. At the head of his cock was a single silver ring. He was already leaking, a thin string of cum drooling from his tip.

I caught my lip between my teeth, watching as he lined himself up with my cunt. The head of his cock nudged against my clit, earning a strangled whine from my throat.

“Johnny won’t stop talking about how good this pretty pussy of yours feels.” He bucked his hips forward, pushing his cock inside of me. The breath was ripped from my lungs as he fully sheathed himself inside of me.

“Simon!” I cried, tears welling in my eyes as he stretched me out. He was forceful, more domineering than Johnny. The strength which he grabbed my hips with was addicting. I was sure he’d leave behind little fingertip shaped bruises as a reminder.

“Taking me so good, aren’t you, love,” he grunted, bringing one of his hands to my cunt. “Cute little clit needs some attention. Practically throbbing.” He circled his thumb around my clit, timing his pace with his brutal thrusts.

His hips slammed against mine with a bruising force. The couch creaked beneath us. My body jolted with every thrust. My vision went unfocused, lips parting in a silent scream. Drool pooled in the corners of my mouth, spilling down my chin.

“Fuckin’ you dumb, aren’t I?” He leaned forward, whispering beside my ear. “Such a good pet,” he cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek, now soaked in tears.

“Should’ve brought you home sooner, huh?” Johnny asked from over Simons shoulder. I didn’t respond, only giving him a whimper as Simon fucked me into the couch.

His hips stopped abruptly, hand grabbing my face between his thick digits. He pulled me to look at him, thick brows furrowing in anger.

“He asked you a question, pet.” Simon spat. “Be a good toy and answer.”

“Yes! Ye-hes!” I babbled, choking on my tears. His brutal pace started again in an instant. The cushions shifted as Johnny kneeled behind his lover. He ran his hands over Simon’s stomach, gripping his love handles tight.

“Please le’ me fuck you, Si. Yer ass looks so bonnie.”

Simons thrusts drew shallower as he sat up straight. He glanced at the Scot over his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ mutt,” he grunted, pushing down harder on my clit. I whined, hands gripping his wrist. He didn’t relent. “Fine.”

Johnny grinned, gripping Simon's shoulder to steady him. The Brit’s hips stilled inside me, thumb still teasing my clit.

Simon's eyes fluttered closed. His plush lips parted, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. Johnny pressed a chaste kiss to Simon's neck before biting down on his shoulder, muffling the moan that rose from his throat. Johnny gripped Simon’s hips, urging him to move.

“Come on, pretty boy. Don’t keep them waiting.” He cooed, blue eyes meeting mine.

“Fuck- I’m not gonna last,” Simon grunted. He pushed one of my knees against my chest, fucking deeper into me. I sobbed, vision blurred with tears. He leaned forward, bracing both of his hands on the armrest. His breath wafted over my chest as he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

“Feel so good, LT.” Johnny moaned, brows knitting as he chased his orgasm. Soft noises left Simon’s lips, growing more needy with every thrust of his hips. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into my embrace.

“Mh- feel so good,” Simon slurred, pressing wet kisses to my neck.

“Cum in me, Simon,” I whined, locking my legs behind his back. He grunted, teeth sinking into my pulse point. My head spun as tension slowly built in my core. My gaze shifted to Johnny. His eyes were screwed shut, hands gripping the fat of Simon's ass.

His hand landed harshly on Simons ass. A soft whine fell from the Brit’s lips. The filthy noise was enough to push me over the edge. I tossed my head back against the armrest, cunt milking his cock as I came.

“Oh, fuck- oh fuck-” Simon groaned, spilling inside of me. His cock twitched, hips stilling as he reached his orgasm. Warmth flooded me, spilling down my inner thighs.

With a grunt, Johnny pulled out, blue eyes fixated on his boyfriend’s ass. Simon didn’t move, instead choosing to smother me with his weight. His cock slowly softened inside of me. I turned my head, pressing kisses to his temple.

It seemed odd, how needy he’d become. A stark contrast from his brooding demeanor. I shot a glance at Johnny, who simply shrugged at my confusion.

“Johnny, I might have to steal this one from you,” Simon mumbled against my neck.

“No- no get the fuck up.” Johnny stood, tugging at his boyfriends tattooed arm. I laughed, my hands running up the back of the Brit’s neck. My fingers carded through his damp curls.

“You jealous, Johnny?”

Masterlist

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #read on ao3 #cod fanfic #cod fic #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soapghost #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mctavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader

208 notes · View notes

helluvaoutlaw · 5 months ago

Text

Scales and Silk

(((A closed RP for @second-wife-playbook)))

Once upon a time...

In the heart of a once-thriving land, then shrouded in fear and ashes, the name Striker was whispered with a mix of dread and hopelessness.

The beast was named so by the unfortunate souls who lived there, shocked and astonished by his speed and precision with which he would strike his target.

No man, woman or child was safe, no animal or house.

The farmers and townsfolk, whose livelihoods have been reduced to cinders, spoke of him as a malevolent force, intent on destruction for destruction's sake.

Striker would descend upon the villages, his fiery breath incinerating crops and homes, his razor-sharp claws snatching livestock from their pens.

The once-bustling fields lied barren, charred remnants of their former selves. No one knew the whereabouts of his lair deep within the forest he fiercely protected, nor did they understand the reasons behind his relentless assault on their world.

To the people, Striker was the embodiment of evil, a dragon whose dark heart reveled in their suffering. Yet, beneath the surface of these tales, the true nature of Striker's wrath and the mysteries of his existence remained hidden, waiting for those brave enough to seek the truth.

————————————————

In the dimly lit tavern of the town of Ravenshire, two weary farmers nursed their mugs of ale, their faces etched with despair.

"Another barn gone last night."

Sighed Harlan, his eyes hollow.

"Striker left nothing but ashes. I don’t know how much more we can take."

Bram, his hands calloused from years of toil, shook his head.

"Aye, Harlan. Lost three cows myself. They were all I had left. How are we supposed to keep going like this?"

"It's as if he has no purpose but to torment us!"

Harlan muttered, taking a long drink.

"Why does he hate us so much? What did we ever do to him?"

Bram clenched his jaw.

"Folks say he’s just pure evil. A beast with a black heart, born to destroy."

"Do you think the King will send more knights in our aid?"

"I doubt it. None of them survived."

The two fell into a heavy silence, the crackling of the tavern fire the only sound between them. Outside, the night stretched on, filled with the ever-present fear of Striker's return.

#helluva outlaw #striker #coronis #helluva boss #helluva striker #rp #scales and silk #fantasy AU #dragon! Striker

203 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 9 months ago

Note

Ahh I love the food thing that you got asked <3 food can have such a special place in our lives it's so precious

Ya think Hound develop concerning eating habits due to Makarov? Due to the whole stressful situation

I just want someone in the 141 to cook him a meal, filled with love and care, maybe Hound is in the kitchen watching them cook it for his own security.

I just want him to have a nice meal 😔

-🐙

I do feel like Hound would have some food hoarding habits or just distrust about eating something he didn't make himself. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten drugged through food...

But the 141 making food communally would be a fun idea lol so here's a quick brain fart :D :

You feel out of place. Well, you're always out of place, but you feel especially out of place sitting at the table while Soap and and Gaz busy themselves by the stove, Price humming to himself to the side as he gets the mugs to make tea. Ghost sits next to you grumbling under his breath, both of you in 'time-out' — you hadn't done anything (save for not being trusted around anything sharp), it's Ghost that had gone and microwaved beans in the can. Now Johnny swears up and down the microwave is possessed.

Your eyes flicker between Soap and Gaz, watching them cook you don't even know what. The only British 'cuisine' you know of is the cremated steaks Price would sometimes make you before. . . that. But nothing the two are making smells nearly as bad as the charred hockey pucks Price would feed you and Simon.

"Hey!" Your brought out of your thoughts in time to see Kyle swat away Price's hand with his spatula. "Don't you dare cap! I'm not about to get rained on because of your bad cooking." You hadn't considered Gaz could take charge, too soft in your eyes, but you're surprised by how tight of a ship he runs when he's by the stove.

"Alright, alright." Price huffs while Ghost lets out an amused huff. He's not quite laughing, but you can see the subtle tremor of his shoulders in silent laughter.

That gets Soap to point a spoon in Ghost's direction. "Oh yer one te fockin' giggle. Mr. 'ah cursed the damn microwave with me beans'."

"Sod off." Simon grunts, but there's no edge to his words. Soap tuts, but soon enough starts off rambling about something you're not quite able to follow along to when your eyes once again focus on where their arms are, how they move, paying especially close attention any time they rest them by their sides (even though realistically you doubt they'd try to drug the same food they'd eat).

You still tense when you feel Price's hand on your back, only now noticing that you'd started hunching your back, your shoulders raised closer to your ears. "You're alright, straighten your spine, sweetheart." His voice is calm, his hand warm as he applies gentle pressure on your back until you straighten back out. "There you go, good man." He rumbles, hand going up to ruffle your hair before he pulls away before his touch can turn into stinging pain to your skin.

You blink as a plate full of food is placed in front of you. The food smells good and doesn't look like it had been cremated, made with care you don't deserve. "I. . ." You don't know why but your throat feels clogged, like someone had poured hot tar into your mouth and forced you to swallow, the collar around your throat constricting your breathing even more.

Simon's shoulder bumps into yours, "If you don't eat that I will." The childish threat makes you breathe out a small laugh.

"Aye, the bastard's like Henry the hoover, he'll eat anything." Soap supplies as he sits down opposite of you with his own plate. Though you get the impression he's talking about himself when he stabs a sausage with a fork and almost inhales the entire thing.

"Mhm," You grunt, taking the fork. "I don't doubt it." You stab a piece of black pudding. It tastes earthy, but the small coppery tang of blood sizzles down your nerves, but fuck it tastes good.

"Look at that, is it good?" Kyle chuckles as he watches your facial features shift as you swallow the food, his own face that of pride like he already knows your answer, but you nod your head all the same.

#gnome correspondence #🐙anon #x reader #cod mw2 #male reader #trinkets from the hoard #captain john price #good dog fic #Hound-reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #this was pretty quick and I intend to do an extended version of this when i finally get around to writing the next chapter of Good Dog

360 notes · View notes

tranceinnumerabletabs · 11 days ago

Text

When Johnny Comes Back pt8

Howdy y'all! It seems I'm back. I'm writing this at like 5 AM. Idk why it seems like y'all didn't like the last part? Was it too long? Were the colors overwhelming? Hopefully not cuz it's so much more in here. Anyway here's the next part. Tell me if it's too long. Also I got college tests comin up so.....expect some delays for the next few days

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and @beelzebee

part1, part2, part3, part4, part5, part6, part7

------

You’re standing on a cliff side, the sunset beautiful and fleeting. Ash swirls around you. You look to where it’s from and it’s your cat Simon tipping over the urn. The ashes surround you as a mysterious laughter surrounds you, along with mocking words you don’t understand but just know they’re meant to be despairing. And that he has a Russian accent for some reason. The ash swirls faster and the next time you look at Simon he’s a charred mess of what he used to be.

“Simon?” You ask, distraught and horrified at your sweet kitty’s death. Simon’s eyes were dead and bluer than you remember. The ash surround you more and more and you sense Johnny’s presence. You don’t know why or where.

“Johnny?” You call out and the Russian’s voice grows louder and more mocking as more, sadder voices joined in. It didn’t feel like there was an outside source to the voices. It felt like it was in your mind.

"He was the best of us"

"The toughest"

"Would have fought the world barehanded"

Your location changed and you’re looking over Johnny’s dead body, the shot on his head bleeding nightmarishly. His lifeless eyes pointing at you without looking at you. You hear an authoritative voice announce: “All stations- this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe... One KIA.”

You see a strange shadowy figure loom over Sergeant Soap. His shadows reminded you of the fur on Simon.

It was hard to make out but you saw a skull with hollow eyes and knew you just knew that this was death and he was going to take Johnny away from you. You look at the horrific state of Johnny. Your mouth doesn’t move but you’re calling out to him as the reaper takes him away.

“Johnny! No! Please!”

You couldn’t move, you were running but it’s like you weren’t moving. You call out to them more but it’s like you weren’t actually screaming. You catch up to them and tackle death, but he and Johnny disintegrates into shadows and ash that surround you again. The voices come back: the Russian, the voices, Johnny himself. You couldn’t understand anything you’re hearing other than occasional words:

“KIA” “Bonnie!” “Be careful who you trust sergeant. Peo-“ “bravo six goin da-“ “-ple you know can hurt you the most” “translate that from bullshit to eng-“ “hen! I’m here” "-the toughest" “or I’ll FUCKiNG hang you from it” “would have fought the world bare handed” “LOVE! WAKE UP!”*

——————————————————

You GASP loudly as you’re shaken from your torture.

“Lassie?” He shakes you again

You look at Soap “Johnny?!”

“Aye I’m here what hap-“ you hug him tightly, just like the one you gave him yesterday: strong, tight, wet, bordering on suffocating if he wasn’t so durable, all done while you’re shaking. He grips you back, rubbing your back and ruffing your hair. “Birdie…what happened?”

You squeeze harder and he catches the hint that you just need to be grounded right now. He leans into your ear and whispers reassurances

“Jus’ a bad dream Bonny lass, yer here with me now. Yer big strong man, back from war safe and sound. You’re okay Bonny nothing is gonna hurt ya.”

“I’m not worried about myself Johnny..” you mumble. His words hit him like a brick all over again and his heart swells. he’d tease you for falling for him but…not now.

“Aye….I’m…sorry tae worry ye”

“I saw you dead…”

“…..” he goes quiet

“I saw you dead…and…and death took you…a-and…I-I tried to stop it b-but he disappeared a-and Simon also died and was burned-”

“Hey, hey…hen…jus’ a nightmare okay?”

“I’ve had this exact nightmare before. I don’t know why it keeps happening. It feels so real.” You finally pull back, looking at him. This time, when looking at the bandage on his head, you feel relieved. He’s hurt, but he’s here. Here and breathing. You place your chin on his neck and look up at him with soft puppy eyes

“I’m worried for you”

“I Ken.”

“You could’ve died”

“Aye”

“Your head was shot”

“Dinnae need ta remind me.”

You sigh and close your eyes as he ruffled your hair.

“I’m here Bonny. I cannae promise you to be back next time. I’m not that naive, seen too many a men sharing a laugh wit me one night and share a body bag the next. Hell, even civis die without warnin’ all da damn time. I cannae promise ye next month or next week, and neither can you, but I’m promising ye right now. And right now I’m layin’ in my kip with the fairest princess in the land.”

You crack a smile

“Aye, she’s even fairer now”

You giggle and hide your face into his chest.

“I’m glad you’re here Johnny”

“Haven’t heard you say that before. Say it again?”

You don’t shake your head or roll your eyes, instead you jump up to wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close to your chest

“I’m so happy that you’re here Johnny!” He growls and grips your body harshly

“I could get used tae this bein my good mornin’” he rasps

“Hmm..me t-…..” you stop, remembering something

“birdie?”

You pull back and have an annoyed look on you

“Johnny.” You say firmly

“A..aye?”

You grip his face roughly, as if trying to punish him “were you awake while I was trying to get out of your hold last night?”

“Dinnae Ken wha’ yer talking aboot’”

“Johnny.” You say ever firmer, looking at him with a piercing gaze

“Yes gorgeous?”

“Were you. Awake. While I was trying to go sleep in my bed?”

“…..”

“Johnny?” You growl, your touch now pressing into his head injury (not too hard through) to get your point across. “Tell me the truth”

“I love you mo chridhe”

“JOHNNY! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!”

You rip the pillow out from under him and raise it above your head like a bloodthirsty barbarian, ready to strike

“Princess! Mercy please I beg o’ ya!”

“There’s no doll here now sergeant suds! Now it’s your superior! And you’re taking discipline”

He laughs at your mimicry, blocking your pillowy bludgeons to the body

“Since when-" smack "-were you-" smack "-my superior?”

You growl and increase your pace.

“I dinnae take orders from a civi!” He chuckles. He tackles you to lay down on the bed while you continue to pillow smack him.

“I’m the princess. I outrank you sergeant! Now unhand me!” You blow your tongue at him.

“Yes yer highness.” He rolls off you. You jump off the bed, face red at what you endured. He gets off and runs up to you too.

“C’mon leannan, aren’t ye glad that yer brave soldier was there to protect ye from the nightmare?”

Pause.

Well….that’s true. Who know how bad that nightmare could’ve gotten if he didn’t shake you awake and comfort you. He hugs your from behind, doing that terrible habit of leaning in close behind you to speak lowly over your shoulder while being half dressed

“I’m just doin’ by job princess. Duty calls”

“And does your Call of Duty include trapping and annoying the princess until she attacks you with pillows?”

“Tis’ Modern Warfare bonny. Things are like that these days.”

“And the bedtime story you made me tell?”

“Tis’ Modern Warfare too. I’d die for it” You sigh. He’s impossible. He leans into your ear more. “If it’s nae too late, Good mornin’ leannan”

“It’s the afternoon Johnny. It’s what happens when you sleep around sunrise”

“My sunrise happens when my sun rises”

“And when that?”

“When didja wake up?”

You blush “shut up.”

“Yes yer highness. Yer always so grumpy in the mornin’”

“You’re always annoying in the morning. Do they train you to be a nuisance the second you wake up?”

“Aye, ye never Ken when they might get piece o’ mind” You shake your head and try to move, his arms are imprisoning you fucking again*

“Johnny.”

“Nae”

“……I’ll make you breakfast”

“A big one?”

“Yes you beast. A big one. But you’ll have to get dressed more than your underwear.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. You don’t see me walking around the place with jus’ my skivvies on do you?”

He shrugs “sounds like a you problem.”

“Do it and I’ll give you the flat’s entire inventory of bacon and a dozen eggs”

He lets go and dashes to the closet to get dressed. You smile and skip to make a feast fit for an army. A one man army that is. A tiny while later he there, shirtless but at least he’s got pants on.

“Thank you honey”

“You don’t have to say that. And I’m not your honey” you say the line you’ve said many times to the point where it’s an affectionate routine like your personalized greeting

“Then why are you so sweet to me hen?” He says on cue.

“Okay you Lorne lad. Go sit down as I make you breakfast”

“I want tae hel-“

“Sit down.”

He obeys and spends the entire time staring at you, just like Simon, who’s watching nearby. As per promise you added the rest of all the bacon you had into a skillet

“Aye, little more?” He teased

“This is like a kilo of bacon”

“Not enough”

“Sush this ain’t epic meal time.”

You decide to be a cunt to prove a point make enough food to feed the entire cast of Game of Thrones. Let’s see him ask for more now. what’s in an English/Scottish breakfast again?

Eggs. How many Eggs? Well no one eats eggs like Gaston, but Gaston hasn’t met Soap.

Sausages. How much sausages? Enough to make AO3 look clean enough to have a church service in.

“Ohh leannan that looks good!”

“I said shush let me finish”

Beans. Beans? You and the boys at 3AM Lookin for BEANS and this is enough gas to keep a tank in orbit.

“Bonnie I think that’s eno-“

“Shush”

Mushrooms. He wants mushrooms? Here’s Enough to recreate The Last of Us.

Does Johnny boy want toast? Here is Enough to eradicate the local duck population from existence, then enough tea to recreate the Boston tea party and serve the queen leftover. But knowing Johnny he’ll want coffee too.

How much coffee you give him? Enough to make a college student flinch

Aaannnd finally tomatoes. That’s Enough tomatoes to boo away every mediocre LA comedian into a better profession.

“Done” you grin and turn to look back at Soap, who was visibly salivating. You chuckle “are you hungry princess bubbles?”

“Aye” he says looking at the domestic scene before him. You, in pajamas and his shirt, making him a breakfast feast when he came back from deployment. It’s not just the food he’s salivating at.

“Eat up” you start serving it all and he digs in like a wild dog. Before meeting him, You’d be disgusted and put off by this barbaric behavior, but because it’s Johnny, not only do you let it slide, you also find it endearing.

Simon jumps on the table, you shoo him away from your plate, trying to make him eat from his kitty bowl. It’s on the table because he refused to eat otherwise. He wants to eat with your two and that’s final.

He, for some reason decided to eat from Soap’s plate, which was smart because Johnny “I’ll eat anythin’ you make me” Mactavish doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

You leisurely eat your food as Johnny seems to be challenging Matt Stony for his records. You sip on your beverage, that’s in a cup, while Johnny drinks from the pitcher. He finishes his breakfast, a surprise to even you seeing how much he ate, and lays back with a groan

“I’m stuffed lass. Dinnae think I can move.”

“You didn’t have to eat all of it”

“Nae, I’ll eat anythin’ and everythin’ ye make”

“Yeah well, don’t get used to it. Do you have any idea how expensive that brand of bacon was?” You say looking at your phone casually

“Ye’d have more money if ye married me for military spouse tax benefits Bonny” You laugh, what a bold offer and yet it doesn’t sound too bad.

“I’m sure”

“Think about it Bonnie, I’ll make ye a Mactavish, you already act like one, makin yer soldier a feast after comin’ back from the war” oh is that why he was affectionate today?

You snort “oh no Johnny. Once you retire, you’re taking my last name”

“And why’s tha’?”

“it’ll do you some good changing your last name. If anyone asks why you took mine, just say you married a feminist” you sip your drink.

"what's wrong with Mactavish?" he whines through his chuckle

“You’re a war criminal Johnny.” You casually mention, as if Soap ever wanted you to know that.

Jazz Music Stops

He didn’t.

part9

76 notes · View notes

novaursa · 10 days ago

Text

Between Pride and Fire (the final chapter)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the curse

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @punk-in-docs @barnes70stark

The air was bitterly cold, the sharp wind slicing through the rugged terrain as Jason Lannister rode at the head of a small escort. The men of the Vale flanked him, their faces grim and their cloaks pulled tightly against the chill. The mountains loomed around them, jagged peaks that seemed to scrape the heavens. The further they traveled, the more oppressive the atmosphere became, as though the land itself mourned.

Jason’s armor was dulled by dirt and wear, and his face, unshaven and shadowed with exhaustion, betrayed the sleepless nights he had endured since leaving the Riverlands. His green eyes, usually bright with wit or confidence, were now hollowed with worry, fixed on the path ahead. Every step of his horse brought him closer to what he both dreaded and needed to see.

The captain of the Vale escort, a grizzled man named Ser Arnall, rode up beside Jason, his expression grim. "We’re near the place, my lord," he said, his voice low. "The shepherd described it well. It’s just beyond this ridge."

Jason nodded curtly, his jaw tightening. He didn’t trust himself to speak, afraid his voice might crack under the weight of his emotions. He urged his horse forward, his heart pounding as the path narrowed and the jagged cliffs rose higher on either side.

When they reached the ridge, the escort halted, their faces pale as they stared ahead. Jason dismounted, his boots crunching on the frost-covered ground as he stepped to the edge of the ravine.

The sight before him was haunting.

A massive black pit yawned open in the earth, its jagged edges descending into an abyss so deep that no light could reach its bottom. The air above it was heavy with the faint stench of charred flesh and sulfur, the unmistakable remnants of dragonfire. Jagged rocks jutted out from the sides of the ravine, their surfaces slick with frozen condensation. It was as if the pit itself had swallowed the two dragons whole, leaving no trace but the desolation surrounding it.

Jason’s breath caught, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “This is it?” he asked, his voice low and strained. “This is where they fell?”

Ser Arnall nodded, dismounting to join him. “Aye, my lord. The shepherd who saw the battle swears by it. He said they plummeted together, locked in combat, straight into this pit.” He hesitated before continuing. “No one’s dared to climb down, my lord. It’s too treacherous, and no dragons have been seen since.”

Jason stared into the black abyss, his mind racing with images of Y/N and Morrath. He could see it so clearly—Morrath’s amber eyes blazing with defiance, her powerful wings struggling against Vhagar’s might. He thought of Y/N, her fierce determination, her strength… and the horrifying possibility of her lying broken somewhere in that bottomless void.

“Have you searched the surrounding area?” Jason asked, his voice sharper now. “There could be something—anything—that tells us what happened.”

Ser Arnall nodded. “We’ve scoured the cliffs and the woods nearby. There’s no sign of the dragons or their riders, my lord. Only this.”

Jason’s throat tightened, and he turned back to the pit, the weight of the moment crushing him. The others began murmuring among themselves, their voices hushed, as though afraid to disturb the silence.

“Leave me,” Jason said suddenly, his voice cutting through the cold air like a blade.

Ser Arnall blinked, confused. “My lord?”

“I said leave me,” Jason repeated, his tone steely. He turned to face the escort, his green eyes blazing despite the grief shadowing his features. “All of you. Return to your camp. I’ll stay here.”

The men exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to argue. Ser Arnall hesitated, his brow furrowed. “My lord, it’s not safe—”

Jason raised a hand to silence him. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Ser Arnall. Go.”

Reluctantly, the escort began to withdraw, their footsteps crunching against the frozen ground. Ser Arnall lingered for a moment longer, his gaze filled with concern, but Jason didn’t look at him again. Finally, the knight mounted his horse and followed the others, leaving Jason alone on the ridge.

As the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, Jason stepped closer to the edge of the ravine, his breath visible in the cold air. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the faint echoes of memories—her laughter, her voice, the way she looked at him when no one else was watching.

He sank to his knees at the edge of the pit, his gloved hands gripping the frozen earth. The abyss seemed to stretch endlessly before him, a black maw that swallowed everything—hope, love, and life itself.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “If you can hear me… if there’s anything left of you… I’ll find you. I swear it.”

The wind answered with a mournful wail, and Jason closed his eyes, his heart heavy with despair.

The halls of Harrenhal had grown colder with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on every soul within its ancient walls. The fires in the great hearths did little to chase away the chill, for it was not the cold of winter but the cold of unanswered questions. The news—or lack thereof—about Princess Y/N, Aemond Targaryen, and Lord Jason Lannister had left the camp in a state of uneasy limbo. Even the most battle-hardened soldiers cast wary glances at the sky, as if expecting Vhagar or Morrath to appear at any moment.

Daemon Targaryen stood at the head of the war council, his presence as commanding as ever despite the grim atmosphere. His violet eyes burned with a cold fire as they scanned the map laid out before him, the Riverlands and the Crownlands marked with careful strokes of ink. Around him, his commanders and advisors stood in tense silence, waiting for his word.

Loren Lannister was among them, his youthful face shadowed with worry and barely contained frustration. His pale curls so reminiscent of his mother's, framed a furrowed brow as he stared at the map, his fists clenched at his sides. It had been a moon since his mother’s fall and his father’s departure, and the uncertainty gnawed at him like a wound that refused to heal.

Daemon’s voice cut through the heavy silence, sharp and commanding. “We can wait no longer,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The Greens are vulnerable. Vhagar’s absence is a gift, and I intend to use it.”

One of the Riverlords, a grizzled knight with a scar running down his cheek, frowned. “But, my prince, without confirmation of Vhagar’s fate—”

Daemon’s glare silenced him instantly. “We know enough,” he said coldly. “The largest dragon in their arsenal has vanished, and so has the one-eyed bastard who rides it. If Vhagar still lived, Aegon would have unleashed her fury on the Riverlands by now. Instead, they cower in the capital, hoping we’ll hesitate.”

He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “But we will not hesitate. We march for King’s Landing. With Harrenhal as our foothold, we’ll strike at the heart of their false king’s power. The Greens will regret the day they spilled Targaryen blood.”

Loren stepped forward then, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. “And what of my father, Prince Daemon? My mother? Do we leave them behind while we move on the capital?”

Daemon’s gaze softened slightly as he regarded the young man, seeing the fire and anguish in his eyes. “Your father made his choice,” Daemon said, his tone firm but not unkind. “He searches for your mother because he believes she lives. I cannot fault him for that, but we cannot let the war grind to a halt while we wait for answers.”

Loren’s jaw tightened, his green eyes blazing. “If they’re lost…” He faltered for a moment, his voice thick with emotion. “If they’re lost, then I’ll avenge them. But if there’s a chance—any chance—they’re alive, I won’t rest until I know.”

Daemon nodded, respect flickering in his expression. “You have your father’s resolve,” he said. “And your mother’s fire. Use it wisely, Loren. They would expect no less.”

Another Riverlord spoke up then, his tone cautious. “But to march on the capital… it’s a bold move, my prince. Do we have the numbers?”

Daemon smirked faintly, his confidence unshaken. “The Riverlands are with us. The North sends men even now. And with Harrenhal secured, the Greens’ support in the Crownlands is tenuous at best. Their fear will do half our work for us.”

Loren, still standing tall, placed a hand on the table. “And the Lannister banners from the Rock will hold the West. My brother and sisters are safe, and I will see to it that our forces join yours, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, his sharp features shadowed by the flickering torchlight. “Good. Then let the lion roar alongside the dragon. Together, we’ll tear Aegon from that wretched chair.”

The room buzzed with newfound resolve as Daemon began issuing orders. Scouts were dispatched, messengers sent to gather their forces. The camp, which had been steeped in uncertainty for weeks, now hummed with purpose.

As the council broke apart, Loren lingered, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he stared at the map. Daemon approached him, his tone softer than before. “You’ll have your answers, Loren,” he said. “But remember this: your parents would want you to fight for more than vengeance. They would want you to fight for your family.”

Loren nodded, his gaze unwavering. “And I will,” he said, his voice firm. “For them. For my siblings. For the West.”

Daemon clapped him on the shoulder, his expression approving. “Then let us march,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “And let the Greens tremble.”

Outside, the soldiers of Harrenhal prepared for war, their banners unfurling in the cold wind. The dragon Caraxes roared from the castle’s heights, his crimson form a harbinger of the storm to come. And though the fate of Jason and Y/N remained unknown, their legacy—fury and fire—would shape the next chapter of the Dance.

The air within the Great Hall of Dragonstone was heavy, the weight of Rhaenyra’s decree pressing on everyone present. The Painted Table, its intricate carvings illuminated by the glow of candlelight, reflected the grim reality of the war as Rhaenyra stood at its head. Her violet eyes burned with determination, the queenly resolve she carried masking the turmoil beneath.

Around her, her sons Jacaerys and Joffrey stood to one side, their faces etched with the seriousness of the moment. To the other side were her nieces, Leona and Aemma, their expressions mirroring the dread in the room. Behind them, trusted knights and advisors waited silently, the flicker of the flames casting shifting shadows on their armor and cloaks.

Rhaenyra’s voice, steady and commanding, broke the silence. “The time has come,” she announced, her gaze sweeping over the room. “The Greens have held King’s Landing long enough. Daemon and our allies have already begun their march. Now we will do the same. The capital will be surrounded, and the usurper will have nowhere to run.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the room, but it was short-lived as Rhaenyra raised a hand, silencing them. Her gaze fell on her sons and nieces, her voice softening but retaining its edge of authority.

“Jacaerys, Joffrey, Leona, and Aemma,” she said, her tone heavy with the weight of what she was about to say. “You are to remain here, on Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys, standing tall and proud despite his youth, immediately stepped forward. “Mother, I—”

“You will stay,” Rhaenyra interrupted firmly, her gaze locking with his. “I need you here to defend Dragonstone. This island is our seat, our stronghold. Should anything happen to me, it must remain secure.”

Jace’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, Mother.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened briefly before moving to Joffrey, her youngest son. “Joff, you too must remain. Your strength will be needed here.”

Joffrey nodded solemnly, his face pale but resolute. “I’ll do whatever is needed, Mother.”

Rhaenyra turned to Leona and Aemma, her expression filled with equal measures of pride and sorrow. “Leona. Aemma. You have shown your bravery time and again. But I cannot risk you on the battlefield. You are the future of our house. Your strength will be needed here.”

Leona’s eyes blazed with defiance as she stepped forward, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “Aunt Rhaenyra, my place is with you. My parents—my mother—” Her voice broke, but she steadied herself. “They may be gone, but I am still here. Let me fight for them.”

Aemma placed a hand gently on her sister’s arm. “Leona, we have our orders. We must honor them.”

Leona’s jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists as she struggled to contain her frustration. “How can I sit here and do nothing while my parents’ deaths go unanswered?” she demanded, her voice cracking.

Rhaenyra stepped closer, her hand resting on Leona’s shoulder. “Leona,” she said softly, her tone laced with empathy. “Your time will come. I promise you, the Greens will pay for every life they have taken from us. But your strength is needed here, with your betrothed. You and Jacaerys will stand as the future of our house, should anything happen to me.”

Leona’s defiance faltered as she met her aunt’s gaze, the weight of Rhaenyra’s words settling heavily on her. Finally, she nodded, though her expression remained hard with grief and anger. “I will do as you command, Aunt,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Rhaenyra stepped back, addressing them all once more. “Should I fall, Jacaerys will take the throne as my heir,” she declared, her voice ringing with finality. “Leona, as his betrothed, you will stand beside him as the queen. Aemma, Joffrey, you will defend Dragonstone with your lives if it comes to that.”

The room fell silent, the gravity of her words sinking in. Rhaenyra’s gaze lingered on each of them, her heart aching with the weight of what she was asking. She knew the risk she was taking by leaving them behind, but the war demanded sacrifices, and she would not allow the Greens to take more from her family.

“Promise me,” Rhaenyra said softly, her voice trembling just slightly as she looked at her sons and nieces. “Promise me you will stand together. No matter what comes.”

Jace stepped forward, placing a hand over his heart. “I swear it, Mother.”

The others echoed his words, their voices filled with quiet resolve. Leona’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she nodded firmly, her voice steady as she said, “We will not fail you.”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She stepped forward, embracing each of them in turn, holding them tightly as though she could shield them from the storm to come.

When the moment passed, she straightened, her queenly composure returning. “Prepare the troops,” she commanded, her voice ringing with authority. “We march at dawn.”

As the room began to empty, Leona lingered for a moment, her gaze fixed on the Painted Table. Aemma placed a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder, but Leona didn’t turn.

“We’ll avenge them,” Leona murmured, her voice low and fierce. “No matter what it takes.”

Aemma nodded, her expression solemn. “We will.”

The Fall of King’s Landing and the Wrath of the Dragons

(As chronicled by Mushroom and High Septon Eustace)

The taking of King’s Landing in the waning months of the year was a sight that neither bard nor chronicler could ever forget. It was a day of fire, blood, and vengeance—a reckoning long foretold by the stars, as claimed by the mystics, or long manufactured by the ambition of Targaryens and Hightowers alike.

The Attack on King’s Landing

High Septon Eustace writes that the assault on the capital began at dawn, with the black banners of House Targaryen flying above two separate armies. Daemon Targaryen, astride his crimson-scaled dragon Caraxes, led the vanguard with Loren Lannister, the eldest son of Jason and Y/N Lannister, commanding the Lannister and Riverlands forces. From the north side of the city, Queen Rhaenyra herself descended, her forces bolstered by loyal Crownlanders.

The twin assaults upon the city were brutal and swift. Mushroom’s account is far less decorous than Eustace’s, describing how the city gates, long thought impenetrable, crumbled beneath dragonfire and siege engines. Caraxes led the charge, unleashing a torrent of flames upon the Gate of the Gods. Loren’s black-armored cavalry, their banners of crimson and gold streaming, swept through the smoldering rubble, cutting down any resistance. The once-proud city watch, loyal to Aegon II, scattered like leaves in the wind.

Rhaenyra’s forces, meanwhile, broke through the southern gates. Syrax soared above her, her roar reverberating through the city as her flames engulfed enemy battlements. The smallfolk screamed, scrambling to escape the inferno that had descended upon the capital.

Both chroniclers note that the assault was not without great loss. Scores of men fell on both sides, their blood soaking the cobblestone streets. Yet the outcome was never in doubt. By midday, King’s Landing had fallen.

Daemon and Loren’s Wrath

While Rhaenyra focused her efforts on the Red Keep, Daemon and Loren turned their vengeance outward. Eustace claims that Daemon, once the Rogue Prince, burned with righteous fury as he took to the skies on Caraxes. Mushroom, less complimentary, describes him as a man consumed by rage, a fire in his heart that matched that of his dragon.

Together, Daemon and Loren led their forces southward, burning everything in their path. Mushroom writes that Loren, though young, fought with a ferocity that rivaled his father. “The cub of the lion roared as loudly as the dragons,” Mushroom quips, “and his blade was no less deadly.” Villages and strongholds loyal to the Hightowers fell to their wrath.

Their path led straight toward Oldtown, the seat of Hightower power. Mushroom gleefully notes the irony: “The mighty tower that cast its shadow over the realm now cowered before the flames of vengeance.”

The Red Keep’s Reckoning

While Daemon and Loren exacted their revenge, Rhaenyra claimed the Red Keep. Mushroom paints a vivid picture of the queen’s entrance into the throne room, her armor stained with soot and blood, her crown gleaming in the dim light. She found the usurper’s court in disarray, with Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, attempting to rally what remained of their forces.

Otto’s efforts were in vain. Rhaenyra ordered his immediate execution, a decree carried out in full view of the court. Larys Strong, the clubfoot who had served as Aegon II’s master of whispers, was next to face her wrath. “The queen herself swung the blade,” Eustace writes, though Mushroom claims she allowed her eldest son Jacaerys the honor. Regardless, both men met their end in pools of their own blood.

Aegon II, the usurper king, was found cowering in the dungeons. Mushroom’s bawdy account describes how he wept and begged for mercy, though Eustace insists he maintained some semblance of dignity. Rhaenyra ordered him stripped of his crown and thrown into the dungeons, a fate that many considered more merciful than he deserved.

Alicent Hightower, along with her daughter Helaena and Helaena’s surviving children, was confined to her chambers. Rhaenyra decreed they would live, though under constant watch. Mushroom claims this was out of pity for Helaena, while Eustace attributes it to Rhaenyra’s desire to keep the surviving Green bloodline under her control.

The Queen Triumphant

By nightfall, the banners of House Targaryen flew above the Red Keep once more. The usurper’s reign was over, and Rhaenyra had reclaimed her birthright. Yet the fires of vengeance still burned, both within the capital and beyond its walls.

The Marriage

The Great Hall of Dragonstone was adorned with banners bearing the sigils of House Targaryen and House Lannister, their vibrant reds, blacks, and golds intermingling to symbolize the unity of the realm. The hall was filled with the hum of conversation, a mixture of laughter, tension, and hope. The wedding of Leona Lannister and Jacaerys Velaryon was not just a union of two houses but a symbol of the crown’s efforts to stabilize the fractured realm after months of bloodshed and chaos.

Leona stood tall at the altar, her gown a shimmering masterpiece of black and gold, the sigils of the lion and dragon embroidered intricately across the bodice. Her scar, once hidden behind a mask, was now proudly displayed—a testament to her resilience and strength. Jacaerys, beside her, wore the black and red of his house. His expression was one of quiet determination, though his gaze softened when it rested on his betrothed.

Rhaenyra, seated on the throne, looked on with a mixture of pride and relief. This marriage, she hoped, would cement alliances that could ensure her rule and bring a measure of peace to a realm still smoldering from the fires of war.

Mushroom’s account of the ceremony is predictably bawdy, describing how the young couple exchanged vows with a passion that seemed to set the hall alight. High Septon Eustace, however, writes of the solemnity of the occasion, noting the weight of expectation that hung over the young pair. “A marriage born of war,” he called it, “but with the promise of peace.”

After the vows were exchanged and the blessings given, the hall erupted in applause. The feast that followed was a spectacle of opulence and revelry, with lords and ladies raising their cups to the health of the bride and groom. Yet beneath the laughter, there was an undercurrent of unease. The war was not yet over, and the fates of Jason Lannister and Princess Y/N weighed heavily on the hearts of many.

Daemon’s Search

While the realm celebrated the union of fire and gold, Daemon Targaryen had already set his sights elsewhere. With the Greens defeated in King’s Landing and the capital secure under Rhaenyra’s rule, Daemon left Harrenhal behind to scour the Vale for any sign of his niece and her husband.

Mounted on Caraxes, Daemon’s search was relentless. High Septon Eustace describes his mission as one born of guilt and obligation. “He sought to repay the debt of blood, for he had encouraged her courage and boldness,” Eustace wrote. Mushroom, however, claims Daemon’s motives were simpler: “He was driven by fury, for the thought of his niece lost to that one-eyed bastard was more than even the Rogue Prince could stomach.”

Daemon’s search was thorough, visiting shepherds, hunters, and villagers near the Crownlands-Vale border. Rumors swirled of a ravine that swallowed dragons whole, though no concrete evidence of their fates emerged. Still, Daemon pressed on, his determination unyielding.

The Return of Loren

In the West, Loren Lannister returned to Casterly Rock, now named its lord. The young lion carried himself with a newfound gravity, though the weight of his parents' unknown fate was evident in his every step. The Rock welcomed him warmly, its banners flying high in honor of their new lord. Baela Targaryen, ever sharp-tongued and fiery, accompanied him, her presence as commanding as any knight’s. Their betrothal, announced shortly after their arrival, was met with approval by the Westerland lords, who saw the match as a union of strength and fire.

Rhaena, Baela’s gentler twin, chose to stay at the Rock as well, finding joy in the company of Loren’s younger siblings. Little Rhaelle and Rhaegel had grown especially fond of Rhaena, trailing after her like ducklings as she spun tales of her time on Dragonstone. And young Tyland and Daena became her best friends. Mushroom’s account notes the twins' contrasting roles at the Rock: “Baela ruled the halls with fire and fury, while Rhaena mended hearts with kindness.”

The Return of Aegon and Viserys

Back in King’s Landing, Queen Rhaenyra received her youngest sons, Aegon and Viserys, who had been sent to safety during the height of the conflict. Their return marked a moment of rare joy for the queen, who embraced them fiercely. The capital, though battered, was beginning to heal under her rule, its streets no longer shadowed by fear of dragonfire or civil war.

The sight of her sons seemed to reignite Rhaenyra’s resolve. “The future rests with them,” she declared during a council meeting. “We have endured too much to falter now.”

The Realm’s New Order

Though the war had not yet ended, the realm began to take its first tentative steps toward peace. The marriage of Jacaerys and Leona was a beacon of hope, their union a symbol of what could be achieved through unity. Yet the shadow of those still missing loomed over the celebrations.

For Loren, now Lord of the Rock, the uncertainty surrounding his parents’ fate fueled his resolve to safeguard his siblings and his people. For Daemon, the search for his niece and Jason Lannister became an obsession, one that would drive him to the edges of the known world. And for Rhaenyra, the victory was bittersweet—her throne secured, but at what cost?

The Arrival of Winter’s Hand

As the cold of winter ebbed and spring touched the realm with its tentative warmth, Cregan Stark, Warden of the North, rode into King’s Landing at the head of ten thousand men. His arrival was as much a declaration of strength as it was a gesture of loyalty. The North had come, its banners of the direwolf unfurled against the sky, and its lord ready to stabilize the realm and dispense justice under the rule of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

High Septon Eustace writes that Lord Stark’s presence brought with it a sense of gravity and honor. “The wolf walked into the dragon’s lair, not to rend flesh, but to preserve peace.” Grand Maester Orwyle, who survived the war and lived to serve Rhaenyra, noted that Cregan’s mere presence was enough to quiet even the most fractious lords.

The Pact of Ice and Fire

Cregan Stark’s first act upon arriving at the Red Keep was to bend the knee to Queen Rhaenyra. He pledged his loyalty to her and her line, reaffirming the pact made during Jacaerys Velaryon’s journey to Winterfell. But there was another matter to attend to—his bride, Aemma Lannister.

Aemma, still a girl of tender years, was present in the great hall alongside her cousin Jacaerys, her sister Leona, and the queen. Rhaenyra, though reluctant to see her niece wed to the North so young, honored the pact made by her son.

Grand Maester Orwyle records the moment Lord Stark addressed Aemma with the solemnity befitting a Stark. “You are a lioness bound for the snow, my lady,” he said, his voice measured. “And you will rule with strength unmatched in the North.” Aemma, poised but shy, responded with the decorum instilled in her by her mother, though her nervous glances toward her cousin Jace betrayed her unease.

The Letter from Jason Lannister

As preparations for Aemma’s eventual departure began, Cregan Stark revealed to Grand Maester Orwyle that he had received a letter from Jason Lannister moons earlier. The letter, penned after Jason learned of the betrothal agreement, was, in Orwyle’s words, “a testament to the peculiar wit and unyielding pride of the Lannister lord.”

The letter read as follows:

To Lord Stark of Winterfell,

Greetings from the Riverlands, where I have spent the better part of my days ensuring your southern neighbors remember their place. It seems you and I have more in common than I would have thought—we are both men tasked with safeguarding our families in a time of turmoil.

I understand you have entered into an agreement with Prince Jacaerys Velaryon to take my daughter Aemma as your bride. While I have little love for such arrangements, it appears I am to endure this one for the sake of the realm. Rest assured, Lord Stark, my daughter is a lioness, and if you intend to keep her in the North, you will need the strength to withstand her roar.

Treat her well, for she is as dear to me as gold to the Rock, and her happiness will mean your continued existence should I ever return to claim her hand back myself. Consider this my blessing—or my warning.

Lord Jason Lannister

Shield of the West, Protector of Casterly Rock, and a father who would rather face a thousand winters than give his daughter to a Stark.

Grand Maester Orwyle notes that Cregan read the letter with a rare flicker of amusement. “He saw in it the spirit of the man, both fierce and irreverent. And though he found little humor in matters of marriage, he respected Lord Jason’s sentiment.”

Shadows of Uncertainty

Despite the solemnity and grandeur of Cregan Stark’s arrival and the stabilization of the realm under Rhaenyra’s rule, shadows still loomed over the court. There was still no word of Princess Y/N, Lord Jason, or even Prince Daemon. It was as if the three had vanished into the abyss that had claimed Morrath and Vhagar.

Mushroom writes that the court whispered endlessly about their fates. Some claimed Y/N and Jason had perished in the ravine, their bodies lost to the depths. Others whispered that Daemon’s search had uncovered something so horrifying that he had not returned to report it. Mushroom, ever eager for scandal, suggests that Daemon remained in the Vale because he could not bear to face Rhaenyra after failing to find her sister.

Rhaenyra herself was haunted by their absence. High Septon Eustace describes her as “a queen surrounded by victories yet hollowed by losses.” She often wandered the Red Keep at night, her eyes searching the horizon as though willing the dragons to return.

The Realm Holds Its Breath

As the preparations for Aemma’s eventual journey to the North were made, and as Cregan Stark dispensed justice in the queen’s name, the realm held its breath.

The Crowning of King Jacaerys I Targaryen and Queen Leona Targaryen

After the death of Queen Rhaenyra, the realm saw the ascension of her eldest son, Jacaerys Velaryon, now King Jacaerys I Targaryen, to the Iron Throne. His wife, Leona Targaryen nèe Lannister, stood beside him as queen consort, her violet eyes fierce and her scar now a mark of pride, emblematic of the strength and resilience she brought to the crown.

High Septon Eustace writes that the coronation was a grand affair, marked by a renewed sense of unity across the Seven Kingdoms. “The dragons’ roar was tempered by the lions’ might,” he remarked, “and the realm was reminded of the strength that lay in their union.”

Mushroom, ever colorful, paints a different picture, claiming that Leona’s scarred visage unnerved some of the more traditional lords of Westeros. “She was no soft queen,” he wrote, “but a warrior’s bride, as fierce in her words as her king was in his decrees.” Yet even Mushroom admits that their union was one of love and partnership, a rarity among royal marriages.

Under their rule, the realm entered a period of tentative peace, though the scars of the Dance of the Dragons lingered in the hearts of its people.

The Marriages of the Next Generation

Time had brought changes to the great houses of Westeros, and with them, new alliances through marriage.

Loren Lannister had wed Baela Targaryen, their union solidifying the bond between the West and the Crown. Mushroom notes their relationship as fiery but enduring, with Baela often described as “the flame that kept the lion warm.”

Aemma Lannister, after coming of age, had married Cregan Stark in Winterfell. The match, agreed upon years earlier, proved to be one of mutual respect. Aemma, who had grown into a poised and capable lady, adapted to the harsh North with surprising ease. “She was the lioness who roamed the snows,” Eustace wrote, “and the wolves howled in her honor.”

Prince Aegon Targaryen, the son of Rhaenyra and Daemon, was betrothed to his cousin Rhaelle Lannister, daughter of Jason and Y/N Lannister. The match was seen as a gesture to further unite the bloodlines of dragon and lion, though Rhaelle’s mother and father remained figures of mystery, their fates unknown.

The Mystery of Princess Y/N, Jason Lannister, and Daemon Targaryen

Despite the years that passed, the fates of Princess Y/N, Lord Jason Lannister, and Prince Daemon Targaryen remained shrouded in mystery. Their disappearances became the subject of songs, tales, and countless rumors, though no definitive answers ever surfaced. Grand Maester Orwyle noted that their absence left “a shadow over the realm, one that even the brightest flames could not dispel.”

Rumors Surrounding Their Fates

1. The Bottomless Ravine:

Many believed that Y/N and her dragon Morrath perished in the ravine where they fell battling Aemond and Vhagar. Jason, it was said, had thrown himself into the depths searching for her. Some claimed that Daemon, after arriving moons later, met the same fate. The shepherds near the Vale spoke of hearing dragon roars echoing from the pit long after the battle, but no one dared venture too close.

2. The Silent Vale:

Mushroom suggests a darker tale: that Y/N survived the fall but was captured by Aemond and kept hidden away. He claims Daemon uncovered the truth and sought vengeance, but both were killed in a final confrontation. “The Silent Vale,” Mushroom called it, “where secrets die with their keepers.”

3. Exile Beyond the Narrow Sea:

Another tale, whispered among sailors and traders, suggested that Y/N and Jason were not dead but had fled across the Narrow Sea. Daemon, some said, discovered them and chose to remain in exile rather than return to a realm that had taken so much from them. This theory often included claims of a small, dragon-guarded island far to the east where the three lived in seclusion.

4. The Ghosts of the Vale:

A particularly haunting tale claimed that Y/N, Jason, and Daemon had become specters, cursed to haunt the skies above the Vale. Shepherds and hunters spoke of seeing shadowy figures atop dragons in the moonlight, their cries echoing through the mountains like the wails of the damned.

5. The Last Dragon War:

Some believed that Aemond survived the battle and had taken Morrath’s dragon egg to hatch another beast, and that Y/N, Jason, and Daemon had been drawn into an endless hunt to find and destroy him. This rumor often ended with their eternal struggle playing out far from Westeros, a private war that the realm would never witness.

A Legacy of Uncertainty

As King Jacaerys I Targaryen and Queen Leona ruled from the Iron Throne, the shadows of those who had been lost loomed large. Rhaenyra’s reign had ended in victory, but the scars of war lingered in the hearts of her children and the realm alike. The question of what happened to Y/N, Jason, and Daemon became a legend unto itself, woven into the larger tapestry of the Dance of the Dragons.

Mushroom, in his final account of their tale, wrote:

"The lion, the dragon, and the rogue—three flames that burned too brightly to be extinguished. Yet like all flames, they left only smoke and shadow in their wake, leaving us to wonder what light they might have brought, had they burned together a little longer."

Honymoon Tour of the West

The dawn broke over Fair Isle in hues of amber and pink, the waves of the Sunset Sea shimmering like molten silver beneath the first light of the day. The air was cool and briny, carrying the scent of salt and the cries of distant gulls. You stood waist-deep in the water, the soft crash of waves brushing against your skin as you tilted your head back to feel the rising sun's warmth on your face. The hem of your white chemise clung to your legs, translucent from the seawater.

Behind you, Jason waded in, his golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo. He grinned, his green eyes filled with amusement and a touch of exasperation. “You couldn’t have waited until after breakfast to start your frolicking?” he teased, the water splashing as he made his way toward you.

Turning to face him, you laughed, your voice carrying over the waves. “And miss this? Come, my lord, the sea is calling!”

Jason groaned in mock protest, but his smile betrayed him. “You’re mad, you know that? But if I must chase you into the sea, so be it.” With a theatrical sigh, he plunged into the water, his laughter mingling with yours as he reached you.

The waves lapped around you both as Jason swept you into his arms. “You didn’t have to follow me,” you teased, brushing wet strands of hair from his face.

Jason’s grin softened into something deeper, something more tender. “Oh, I think I did,” he said, his voice low but full of meaning. “I would plunge into the surf, the storm, or even the abyss itself if it meant finding you there. Just to feel your warmth.”

You stilled at his words, a strange feeling washing over you—not just love, but a sense of gravity, of something unspoken and eternal. You cupped his face in your hands, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re too dramatic for your own good,” you whispered, though your smile betrayed you.

“Maybe,” Jason replied, his smirk returning as he tilted his head closer, “but it seems to have worked.”

Your laughter dissolved into a kiss, the kind that felt as endless as the sea itself. The world around you fell away, leaving only the two of you and the soft rhythm of the waves. When the kiss broke, you were both breathless, your laughter returning as Jason hoisted you higher in the water.

“You’re soaking,” you said, feigning scolding as water dripped from his tunic.

“Whose fault is that?” he shot back, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Before you could reply, a fisherman’s boat drifted closer, the crew shouting and waving jovially as they passed by. Jason turned slightly, shielding you with his body as if to protect your modesty, though his grin widened. “Seems we’ve an audience.”

You rolled your eyes, your cheeks flushing as you buried your face in his shoulder. “Only you could find humor in this.”

Jason laughed, his chest vibrating against yours. “It’s not every day the Lord of Casterly Rock is caught cavorting in the shallows with a princess.” He planted a quick kiss on your forehead before turning toward the shore. “Come, my lady. Let’s save the rest of our adventures for when the fishermen aren’t watching.”

He carried you out of the water, the sea cascading from your clothes as he walked. His strength never faltered, and his arms felt like the safest place in the world. As you both reached the shore, Jason gently set you down on the warm sand. The sunlight framed him like a painting, his grin boyish yet confident as he reached for the cloak he’d left on the beach.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, shaking your head but unable to hide your smile.

“And yet, here you are,” Jason quipped, draping the cloak over your shoulders and pulling you close. “I must be doing something right.”

You sighed, leaning into his embrace as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The waves whispered their eternal song behind you, and for a moment, the world was nothing but warm light and the man who held you as if he’d never let you go.

“You’ll follow me into the abyss?” you murmured, your words teasing but your tone serious.

Jason’s smile softened, his green eyes meeting yours with a rare sincerity. “Always,” he said, his voice unwavering. “There’s nowhere you could go that I wouldn’t follow.”

You kissed him again, letting his warmth chase away the morning chill. And as the day began in earnest, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his words would echo in your heart long after the waves of Fair Isle had faded from memory.

#house of the dragon #hotd #fire and blood #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house targaryen #house lannister #between pride and fire #hotd jason #jason lannister #jason x reader #jason x you #jason x y/n

70 notes · View notes