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johnnysuhbmarine · 3 days ago

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Knowing a change of scenery was what your mental health needed, you transferred to where your brother, Mark, goes to college. The good news is, he’s not too cool for his younger sister, so he lets you join his friend group immediately. The bad news is, Haechan is in that friend group, and a brief encounter four years ago was enough for you to understand he does NOT like you. Even worse news, he’s a lot hotter than he was four years ago…

Chapter Fifteen: I'll just ask Mark - four images, 1.5k words - heads up, this chapter deals more with y/n's mental health than previous ones

You were thankful you didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day, because time slipped right by you while at lunch with Haechan. The two of you got sandwiches and coffee from the library café, but when you quickly realized all the tables were taken, you ended up bringing the food back to Haechan’s apartment just a short walk away. This is where time started flying past. The two of you turned on an old cartoon show to watch while you ate, but once you were finished, your own voices quickly overtook the sound of the television.

It was a strange truth to find out - that you and Haechan actually got along swimmingly, taking to each other like a duck to water. Of course, up until the last week or so, the majority of your time knowing each other was spent either ignoring one another or exemplifying passive aggression; so your ability to actually carry a conversation for hours was a very new concept, but one you could hardly take the time to question when you were too busy laughing until you couldn’t breathe.

Haechan was the first to calm down after the last bout of laughter shared in the living room, and he leaned his head against the front of the couch - the two of you opted to sit on the floor as you ate since there was no coffee table to place everything on; not to mention the couch wasn’t that comfortable in the first place.

He rolled his head to the side so he could look at you, your eyes squeezed shut as you bite on your bottom lip to try and stop more laughs from leaving your system. He let a soft grin come across his face as he took in your presence, and the fact that he was happy here with you. “Remind me to thank Mark for convincing you to transfer,” he says gratefully, traces of a laugh still tainting his light voice. Though, all at once, your body stills, and you open your eyes to meet his soft gaze before swiftly bringing your focus to where you had begun messing with your fingers in your lap.

“Oh. It wasn’t really- he didn’t convince me, so to speak. I had to transfer.” You fumble through your words, embarrassment tinging your cheeks a shade of pink.

Haechan furrowed his brows at you. “What do you mean?” He asks curiously, and you can’t help the heavy sigh that escapes you.

You stop fidgeting, but you can’t bring your gaze up from your lap as you respond smoothly. “I was really, badly depressed. Not to mention half the student body at SM used to actually bully me," you recall with a scoff.

“At the end of the day, I just wanted my brother closer than thirty minutes away from me. Helped me feel less alone, or at least helped me not make rash decisions, I mean- I hated myself. Wasn’t sure I was anything but a waste of space, honestly; and the idea of going to my brother to be talked down felt better than going to my friends, cause I always thought they would leave me if all I did was come to them with struggles. My brother can’t leave, he’s stuck with me. Though most of the time, that doesn’t really make it any easier - it’s still putting so much responsibility on Mark, when he’s probably the last person who needs any more added to his plate. Regardless, he does his best - and only partly because he's forced to," you say with a weak laugh before continuing softly.

"In transferring here, my parents made him promise that he wouldn’t allow me to throw myself into oncoming traffic, or maybe it was off a bridge. I don’t know. Something stupid but-”

You cut yourself off when you hear what you think is a sniffle from beside you. You whip your head over to look and get confirmation that he’s actually crying. “Haechan?” You get out worriedly, your brows furrowing as you take in his wide watery eyes and small trembles. You reach out to wipe away at the tears racing down his face, and he just shakes his head against your hold.

“Don’t leave. Don’t you ever dare leave,” he manages to get out somewhat firmly. Your lips form a tight smile at his care and you shake your head, trying to dispel his worries.

“I’m not-” You start, but he cuts you off and you’re sure it’s because he doesn’t quite believe you…not that you could blame him.

He moves from sitting flat on the ground to instead lean over and engulf you in a hug, made awkward by the fact that he was practically just ramming his body into your side. You didn’t care, you wrapped your arms around him the best you could as he gets out choked words. “I need you. Here. I need you here,” he hiccups, and you break.

“Haechan…it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” you say, trying your best not to cry now, too as you begin to rub a hand up and down his back.

You feel a light poke at your side and glance down to see his pinkie outstretched. You look back up to face him in confusion, but his eyes are still directed towards the floor, not to mention squeezed shut. “P-promise,” he gets out weakly. With the tears staining his face, the shaking of his body, and his choked words, you knew you never wanted to see Haechan like this ever again. So, without truly realizing how much this pinky promise was going to mean to him, you lace your finger with his and watch as the smallest wave of relief crashes over him.

He falls more decidedly against you, and you hold him there tightly, running your fingers gently across his clothes and through his hair. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, but you know you didn’t let up from the hug until he was completely rid of tears. Though, when you lift your arms up and allow him to sit back upright, he doesn’t, and a small smile crosses your face as you gently place your arms back around his figure.

You hadn’t seen him look this small ever before, and the fact that he was being this emotional and vulnerable with you was making warmth spread through your entire body. You only hoped it could transfer through the hug you had him in, figuring he probably needed it more right now - for some reason, it couldn't click that he was crying over you, that he was currently concerned about making sure you felt comforted and cared for...though that quickly changes with his next words.

“I’m sorry I was a dick to you earlier,” he finally says with resolve. You move to shake your head and dismiss it, but he presses on. “I treated you poorly for no reason, and I’m sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is remind you of someone from your old school. I’ll do better. I promise all I’ll ever try to do is put a smile on your face, but if it’s ever not genuine, I need you to know that you can come to me, confide in me, whatever. Your heavy feelings aren’t going to scare me away. You don’t need to ever pretend around me, and if I’m the only person who has made that clear, then so be it, I’ll be your rock.”

He finally moves as he says this so that he can make eye contact with you, unfortunate because you had finally started crying at his words. “It’s so hard,” you squeak out. “With my family, I mean - I just want to be a good daughter- a good sister. They don’t deserve all that stress of my mental health. I- I broke my family’s heart telling them how I thought of myself…the point I was reaching. I don’t ever want to worry them like that again.” As you finish, your attention is turned towards where Haechan lightly grabbed your hand in his.

“You broke mine, too, but you need to understand that I’ll let you break it over and over again if it means you aren’t going through this alone.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone and it sends even more tears racing down your cheeks. He sighs, bringing a hand up to wipe gently under your eyes. “Y/n,” he says, his voice soft but filled with intent.

You nod your head, knowing what he was looking for - any confirmation that you were actually taking in his words. “Thank you,” you say weakly, causing a corner of Haechan’s mouth to perk up in a soft grin.

His hand that was previously at your cheek moves up to eventually run back down through your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. “Do you wanna watch The Aristocats?” He asks gently.

Your wide eyes meet his. “You’d watch it with me again?” You respond in awe.

Haechan lets out a small laugh, turning his gaze to the floor before shaking his head and looking in your teary eyes again. “You said it’s your comfort movie…I’d watch it a thousand times.”

[previous] -> [masterlist] -> [next]

a/n: yuhhhh

Taglist: @fullsunstrawberry @choizzn @raevyng @dudekiss3r @yewshi @artsenthusiastk77 @injunnie-lemon @markeroolee @chan-yeoldelling @sunflowerhae @mystverse @urlovelily @luvandletter @jeonghansshitester @dinonuguaegi @untilthesunrises @clean-soap @andassortedkpop @dlin3 @roseangelxfuma @gomdoleemyson @simmsunshine @swanyvess @awktwurtle @t-102 @kukkurookkoo

@hahaechans @ypoom151999 @goldenclosethobi

#on the same page #haechan #nct haechan #lee haechan #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #haechan x reader #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #haechan smau #haechan social media au #nct smau #nct dream smau #nct social media au

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fayesia · 1 day ago

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Day 7 - Breeding

"The Realms Desire" - uncle!Daemon x niece!reader

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ׂ🦢 𓈒ೀ

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings - Targcest!, breeding kink obv, Aemondxreader mentioned, cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk, nipple play?, brief slut shaming, spit play

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc - 2.1k

The final family supper ended in uproar, as the children were sent to their respectful chambers, the remaining adults silently looked at one another. Letting out a sharp breath Alicent concluded the dinner.

"Well, I believe we should all take our rest, it has been quite an...eventful night."

Agreeing with her, the dining hall cleared out, and you took the long winding walk through the silent hallways back to your room. As you neared the corner to your apartments door, a hand reached out harshly, tugging you against their lean figure. Letting out a yelp, you panicked before realising it was Aemond, his eyes wide because of the loud noise you made.

"Aemond, what is the manner of this? You should be in your room"

"Please. I need you. Just one more time, one last time"

It wasn't a secret to the guards and maids who patrolled the halls and entered your room that Prince Aemond would spend some nights with you. The manner, however, was merely for comfort, and although clothes were sparsely worn, blasphemy never fully occurred. He would simply explore and imagine while you gently stroked the soft gleaming white hair the two of you shared.

"Not tonight, Aemond. Tensions have already risen thanks to your rash wording, I think it's best not to stir the pot anymore."

His grip, however, didn't loosen. Your reprimanding words and denial hurt the Prince, someone who was born with a golden spoon in their mouth. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but upon the sound of nearing footsteps, he stepped away and out of the shadows, sauntering off in the opposite direction.

You caught your breath as thoughts swirled in your mind. Pushing open the door, you turned to close it before a voice called out to you.

"Princess, wait"

Before you could reply, your uncles broad frame walked in, cornering you against the now shut door.

"What was Aemond doing here, with you, I recall the children being sent to bed"

Stunned at the confrontational question you took a while to reply.

"Yes...no..he was-Aemond was just..."

Your sentence faltered, unable to answer as your head hung low to not look Daemon in the eyes.

"Was he listing after you again? Is that it? Did he want to fuck you tonight. After all the discord he has caused."

"What? No. No, of course not, don't be ridiculous-"

"Ridiculous? Me asking about the man who enters your room to bed you every night is ridiculous?"

"He doesn't bed me."

"Of course he doesn't. Because he sees all of you and simply does nothing, is that it?"

His sarcastic tone did not go unoticed, angering you more as he spoke down to you as if you were still a mere child.

"Yes! Uncle he does nothing. Please believe me."

"How can I believe you, the evidence is rather contradictory of what my ears are hearing and my eyes see."

"Why should it bother you? You have your wife, my sister. My behaviours should be of no business to you. Whether I bed him or not is not a matter of your concern, uncle."

Stepping sidewards to evade his presence, Daemon moves quickly, slamming you against the door and knocking the breath from you.

"Do you like that he fucks you princess, to spend every night getting filled with his seed? Is that all you want to be. A whore for a disfigured man."

Casting your eyes from the floor to your uncles face, you see the rage he holds.

"Can barely call him a man, though can I. You don't even know what it's like to take the cock of a real man"

Leaning closer, his hands travelled from your shoulders to your waist.

"Do you want to know what it's like, princess?"

He hips rubbed against you, both strong arms from years of training and fighting pulled you closer, as you felt his hard bulge beneath his breaches. You let out a whimper, an internal battle being fought about his advances.

"We mustn't. We can not." Your cheeks flushed as heat coursed through your entire body. Your words were the opposite of your movements, chest to chest with your uncle, the thin material of your gown rubbed against your sensitive nipples. The sight of them pebbling added with the sensation had you growing wetter, shifting your thighs against each other in an effort to stop the reaction you had to Daemon.

An action not gone unoticed by him.

"We can though. No one has to know. I can teach you how a proper man fucks his whores."

Throwing all rash thoughts out the window you meekly nodded while your uncle steered you towards your bed. Laying you on your back Daemon climbed over, leaning down to connect lips in an unforgiving kiss, you grew dizzy at the sheer force while his tongue explored your mouth. His spit mixed with your own as his tongue traced across your lips before dragging down your chin to your neck, where kisses were places against your soft skin.

You lifted off the bed, soft moans released from your mouth, in hopes to be as close with Daemon as humanely possible. His hands lifted you upwards to him until you were comfortably straddling his lap. The expertise he had with woman coming to light as he was quick and swift to untie the laces of your dress as it fell from your shoulders. Leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes, which was already soaked in your own desire.

With an act of confidence you leaned forward to connect your lips to his once more, Daemon used this time to clumsily undress while trying to keep you pleased with his mouth. When you disconnected, your eyes wavered on the many battle scars that marred the Princes skin, from his neck to his back, you gently lifted a finger to trace the scarred flesh.

Daemon used this opportunity to explore you himself. His large hands encased your breasts that fit comfortably in his palms. Rubbing across your pebbled nipples, he smirked, squeezing the flesh, noticing the subtle rotation of your hips against his groin.

"Does my princess enjoy this?"

Unable to get the words out you just nodded.

"Is this what you and Aemond do?"

The tone in his voice was one of mock and jealousy, and you thought it best not to reply with your usual sarcastic tone. For this was not a moment you wanted to end because you simply couldn't hold your tongue.

Laying you back down, Daemon travelled down your body, licking your nipples as he took turns to evenly stimulate both with his tongue. The spit felt sticky and made your nipple harder once they were released from the Princes' warm mouth. His tongue continued its journey downwards, his mouth encasing your cunt over your damp smallclothes.

"Or is this what he does to you?"

Licking more stripes across the fabric, it soon grew transparent with the mixture of both his spit and your liquids. Shaking your head, you denied such actions every occurring.

"Shame. The boy is missing out. Never tasted a sweter cunt. That of a virtuous princess."

His strong hands ripped the smallclothes from your thighs as they were roughly tossed somewhere across your room. Inhaling sharply, you felt Daemons mouth back on your sensitive flesh, except this time there was nothing in between, his tongue flicking through your crevices. Your hands grabbed at his hair, pushing him closer to your centre while he worked ferociously in an effort to make you climax. Looking down at him, your eyes met his hooded ones, the purple of both your eyes were darkened by the lust shared for one another.

Holding your legs open, his grip on your thighs grew stronger as you came. His name flowed off your tongue like a prayer, and your moans could easily be heard by the guards standing outside in the hallway. Your hips bucked into his face as your body and mind fought a battle of whether to run from the pleasure or take more.

Daemon released your shaking thighs, climbing up your body with a smirk across his wet face covered with your release. His kissed you again, this time with the sole purpose of sharing the taste of your release between both of you. The idea was made obvious as he gathered his spit and spat in your own mouth.

The liquid made up of mostly your own release, the messy transaction dripped down your chin, but Daemon gathered it with his thumb, pushing it back into your mouth for you to swallow.

Sucking his thumb, you looked at Daemon with the sweetest eyes in the realm. For if your sister was the realms delight than in this moment, he concluded that you were truly the realms desire.

His cock was enough to prove that, it's much gossiped about size was bobbing against your thigh and becoming harder to ignore as precum dripped from it and marked your skin.

"Please, Daemon, I want you, need you to fill me"

"Is that what you want sweet niece, to be fucked like a whore, to feel your uncle fill you with his seed"

Nodding your head, you went limp as Daemon positioned you on all fours. A pillow under your stomach as he pushed you back into a deep arch, his mouth gently kissing down your spine. Entering you in one quick thrust you moaned into the sheets, immediately feeling stuffed with the thick girth of your uncles cock.

"Gods, you feel so good."

"The gods are not the one filling you, sweet thing. It is my name you should be calling out to."

Daemons thrust sped up as your unwavering moans spurred him on. His hands grabbed the flesh of your hips to guide your cunt up and down his cock as they travelled up to grab your breasts. His fingers squeezing your nipple as the flesh of his thighs loudly slapped against the flesh of your ass. Finally one of his hands moved to wrap around your neck while the other around your waist lifted you to lean against his chest.

The new position allowed his cock to enter you at a deeper angle than before. Your eyes could barely stay open as they rolled back in pure pleasure as your mouth fell open with no noise escaping.

"Do you enjoy this? Being fucked by your uncle. To know your uncles seed will soon fill you up so you can carry his babe."

Whining out you couldn't think hard enough to reply, his cock had fucked you dumb. Turning your head the look you gave him was enough to answer his question, his mouth released a puff of hot air against your neck as he laughed.

"To bad that boy will never fuck you like this, ruined you for anyone else haven't I sweet niece, no one else will fuck this cunt better than your dear uncle."

Absentmindedly, you nodded, almost letting out a yelp of shock when Daemons fingers reached down to rub at your bundle of nerves.

He makes you squirm as he drills his cock harder up into you, while circling his fingers faster, drawing you over the edge. Clawing his arm that's wrapped around your waist, your throughs of pleasure lead you to press deep cresent into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Breathing heavily against your neck he fully sits you on top of his cock as his climax nears.

"Let me fill you niece. So you can grow my babe in you and mother my child, strengthen our family line, and grace our children with your beauty."

Dazed and exhausted from the best climax you had ever had, you stroked Daemons hair in almost the same way you do with Aemond. As wrong as it was, you found it amusing that the two men with so much tension between them had the same liking to certain treatments in bed.

"Please uncle..cum inside me...fill me with your seed, please Daemon.

The sound of his name whispered from your lips and the taboo of an uncle breeding his niece, pushed him to his breaking point, letting out a near animalistic groans as his cock pumped his cum into you. The warm liquid splashed against your walls and was sure to fill your womb with how deep he was inside you.

Gently kissing his forhead you stroked your uncles hair, letting him catch his breath. It was a mutually agreement to not move you off his cock, for the Princes seed must go to waste.

"So good...such a good girl for me."

His words brought a warm feeling of pride to spread inside your chest as you curled in his lap, drifting into a restful sleep as he rocked you in his arms like he did when you were young.

Kinktober Masterlist

#smut #oneshot #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd smut #hotd

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delilahsturniolo · 3 days ago

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no body, no crime

— m.s

find other parts on my masterlist!

chapter 2 . . . rising suspicions

in which . . . you and matt are private investigators, trying to figure out an unsolved murder from years ago.

warnings . . . mentions of death, and a bit of arguing.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first and please credit me if you are taking inspiration from my writing. happy reading! :)

you huffed as you stabbed a red push pin into a small photo, hanging it on a bulletin board. matt sat in front of the board, analyzing all the photos you put up so far.

“okay…here are the known suspects.” you said breathlessly, pointing to a photo of a bald man wearing a plaid dress shirt.

“mr anderson, emily’s algebra teacher. who she supposedly had an affair with. do you think he’d know something?” you turned around, looking at matt.

“meh, he’s just an old man. next.” matt grunted in boredom.

“okay…what about gianna? emily’s sister?” you suggested, matt just shrugged.

“can you at least be a little helpful?” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. matt groaned in annoyance at you, getting up and standing closer to the bulletin board.

“you’re being stupid.” matt looked at you.

“what?”

“look.” matt shoved you out the way, making you scoff in disbelief.

“you aren’t thinking about this enough you idiot. look at the time stamps, emily and justin went outside the house at approximately 10:30 PM. emily was shot at 10:56 PM.” matt explained.

“okay, so?” you huffed.

“so, we need to find out where our suspects were and what they were doing at that time.” matt turned around to face you, brushing his leather jacket off confidently.

“alright mr-know-it-all.” you laughed, matt shook his head at you.

“if mr-know-it-all wasn’t here you wouldn’t be getting anywhere with your crazy delusions. now come on, we gotta go.” matt ushered you to get up.

“where are we going?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“we’re gonna go to the jones’s residence.” matt smiled, trying to gauge your reaction.

“matt…are you sure about this?” you questioned, getting up.

“you wanna solve this case and prove everyone wrong? then follow me.” he didn’t even allow you to answer, leaving you know choice but to follow him. you grunted and dragged your feet across the floor, slowly following him and getting into the car.

about 15 minutes later, matt parked the car, you both stepped out. you were facing a small white house with a ruby red front door. you sighed.

you and matt walked up to the front porch, matt gulped nervously and held out his fist, softly knocking on the door.

you heard creaking from inside, causing you and matt to exchange a look of suspicion. before you even knew it, the door opened.

a girl with dirty blonde hair, a white tank top and pajama pants looked at you and matt in confusion.

“can i help you?” the girl smacked her gum loudly, causing you to flinch. she looked as annoyed as ever.

“hi! i’m y/n, and this is detective sturniolo. we’re from the silver stone detective agency.” you smiled politely, matt waved awkwardly.

“okay…you here to arrest me or something?” the blonde laughed stupidly, but immediately stopped when you and matt didn’t laugh.

“is gianna home?” matt asked her, his tone firm.

“that’s me.” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ears.

“um…is it okay if we interview you about your sister? we just wanna talk, and collect information.” you asked her, her face dropped.

“m—my sister? emily? the case reopened?” she asked frantically, you nodded your head.

“come…come in i guess.” gianna hesitantly spoke, stepping out of the way so you and matt could enter the house.

she led you both to the living room, the only sounds in the room were your footsteps and the ticking clock echoing.

you and matt sat next to each other while gianna sat on the couch across from you two. you took out your phone, scrolling and clicking on voice memos.

“is it okay if i record?” you asked her, she nodded.

you clicked record, setting your phone down in the middle of the coffee table in front of you.

“september 21st, 5:04 PM. interview with gianna jones, sister of emily jones.” you stated into the microphone.

matt cleared his throat. “so, were you at the house party in 2015? the one were emily and justin died at?” matt asked gianna, she nodded.

“i was. it was one of our friends’s party’s.” she answered, matt nodded.

“do you know where you were at about 10:30 PM that night?” you asked next, gianna’s eyebrows furrowed, leaning back in her seat.

“ahhh—i don’t know if i can remember, that was years ago.” gianna hummed as she began to think. “i believe i had already left.” she spoke.

“you went home after?” you asked, interrupting matt as he was about to speak. gianna nodded.

“are you sure?” you insisted, narrowing your eyes at her as she looked hesitant.

“wait…do you seriously think i killed emily?” gianna scoffed, giving you a dirty look.

“y/n—“ matt put a hand on your shoulder, but you brushed him off.

“no no no, where were you really?” you pushed the question further, gianna was absolutely fuming.

“what the fuck is wrong with you!? i told you i went home!” gianna raised her voice at you, standing up. you got up also.

“gianna, i don’t want to argue with you i—“

“no! get the fuck out my house! stop questioning me!” gianna screamed at you, pointing at the door. you sighed in annoyance.

“gianna come on! you must know something!” you tried walking closer to her so you could talk with her, but gianna took a step back. matt grabbed your phone, stopping the recording and grabbing your arm.

“y/n, it’s time to go.” he said in a quiet tone, trying to pull you away. you resisted his grip but nothing worked, he pulled you out of the house and in front of the car.

“let me go.” you yanked your arm away from matt, your voice wobbling emotionally as you spoke. matt’s gaze softened, which was a rare occurrence for someone as cold-hearted as him.

“how could she be like that!? she was clearly hiding something!” you expressed your rage, pacing back and forth.

“i mean, there was no way she just…went home!” you raised your voice slightly, tears of frustration slipping down your cheeks. you thought you could do this, it was going to be way harder than you thought. maybe everyone was right, maybe you were just crazy.

matt stopped your pacing, catching you by placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer to him, which caught you by surprise.

“y/n, stop for a minute. calm down, just breathe.” he instructed, your angry rambling immediately came to a halt as you looked up at him.

“i agree, she could’ve reacted better. but you didn’t have to overwhelm her with so many questions. remember, her sister died. this could be hard for her to talk about. you need to slow it down, we have plenty of time to solve this case. okay?” matt reassured you. why was he being so…nice?

“okay.” you replied, taking a deep breath. matt let go of you.

“let’s go back to headquarters and review what we’ve got, then we’ll call it a day.” matt told you as he got into the drivers seat, starting the car and waiting for you to get in.

maybe you weren’t so crazy after all, maybe…there was something you just didn’t quite catch.

and you were in it for the long run, little did you know that you’d go through a wild ride of twists and turns.

join the taglist here! 🤍

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novaursa · 5 hours ago

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To Win a Princess (fire and gold)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Be aware of the time jumps. This is the last part of the story. Between Pride and Fire will take its posting schedule.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for blood and gore)

- Previous part: son's choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @your-favorite-god

The morning sun sneaked weakly through the stained-glass windows of the solar at Casterly Rock, casting fragmented light onto the table where Tyland sat. His brows furrowed as he read the missive in his hands, the wax seal of the Hand of the King—Otto Hightower—already broken. The contents of the letter were audacious, to say the least, and the weight of them settled heavily on his shoulders.

You entered moments later, your gown sweeping softly against the stone floor. The expression on Tyland’s face immediately caught your attention, a mixture of frustration and calculation.

“What is it?” you asked, crossing the room to stand beside him. “You look like you’ve just swallowed something sour.”

Tyland exhaled slowly, handing you the parchment. “It’s from Otto Hightower.”

You took it with a frown, scanning the contents quickly. As you read, your face darkened, your fingers tightening around the edges of the paper.

“An alliance,” you said, your voice cold. “And yet again, he proposes that Rhaella marry Aemond.”

Tyland leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes studying you carefully. “It seems Otto hasn’t given up on securing the Westerlands. He sees Rhaella as a key to solidifying their claim.”

You threw the parchment onto the table with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Aemond killed Luke,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger. “He killed my nephew, Tyland. And now Otto dares to propose this… this farce of an alliance? After taking my sister’s throne? It’s an insult.”

Tyland reached for your hand, his touch gentle but grounding. “I know how you feel,” he said softly. “But we need to think carefully about how to respond. Otto wouldn’t send this without a reason.”

“His reason is obvious,” you snapped, pulling your hand away as you began to pace. “He wants to divide us. To pull the Westerlands away from Rhaenyra’s cause and strengthen Aegon’s. He sees Rhaella as a pawn—a tool to secure his power.”

Tyland watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And he’s not entirely wrong. Rhaella’s marriage would hold significant sway over the Westerlands.”

You stopped mid-step, turning to glare at him. “You’re not seriously considering this.”

He shook his head, his tone calm but firm. “Of course not. But dismissing it outright could have consequences. Otto is playing a game, and we need to ensure that our response doesn’t put us in a weaker position.”

Your voice rose, the anger bubbling to the surface. “A weaker position? Tyland, we’re already at war because of Otto Hightower’s schemes! He has no honor, no loyalty. If we even entertain this, it’s a betrayal of everything we’ve fought for.”

“I agree,” Tyland said, standing and crossing the room to meet you. “But we can’t afford to act rashly. Rejecting Otto outright may provoke him into retaliating, and the Westerlands aren’t invulnerable.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling with frustration. “How can you be so calm about this? He’s asking us to marry our daughter to the man who murdered my nephew. The man who defies the very legacy of my family. Of your family now, too.”

Tyland’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “Because I have to be calm, Y/N. For you, for our children, for our House. I understand your anger—I feel it too. But anger won’t win us this war.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I won’t let them take Rhaella, Tyland.”

“And they won’t,” he promised, his voice steady. “But we need to send a response that makes our position clear without inviting retaliation. Let me handle this.”

You hesitated, your heart torn between anger and trust. Finally, you nodded, though your voice remained firm. “Make it clear, Tyland. Make it clear that House Lannister stands with Rhaenyra. That we will not forgive Luke’s death or the theft of my sister’s throne. And that Rhaella will never marry Aemond.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I will. You have my word.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the decision settling over you. Outside, the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs filled the air, a reminder of the world beyond the walls of Casterly Rock—a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

Finally, Tyland returned to the table, picking up a fresh piece of parchment and reaching for his quill. As he began to write, you watched him, your heart heavy but resolute. You had fought too hard and lost too much to let Otto Hightower’s schemes tear your family apart.

The response would be swift, direct, and unyielding. The Westerlands were no one’s pawn, and House Lannister would not be bought.

The sky above Rook’s Rest was a chaotic swirl of fire and smoke, the once-quiet fields below transformed into a battlefield of roaring dragons and clashing steel. The sun had barely risen when Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond sprung their trap, their dragons—Sunfyre and Vhagar—descending from the heavens like twin harbingers of doom. The ground trembled beneath their might, and atop the castle walls, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen mounted her scarlet-scaled dragon, Meleys, preparing to meet their challenge.

But she was not alone.

Out of the western sky came a roar that sent shivers through the assembled forces below. Valtyr, his green-and-gold scales glinting like precious metal, soared into the fray with a ferocious cry. Upon his back, Loren Lannister gripped the reins tightly, his golden hair whipping in the wind. He descended swiftly to join Rhaenys, the younger dragon circling the larger, battle-scarred Meleys like a loyal vassal.

“You shouldn’t be here, boy!” Rhaenys called over the roar of the wind, her voice sharp but not unkind.

“I’m not leaving you to face them alone!” Loren shouted back, his voice resolute. “This is my fight too!”

Rhaenys gave a grim smile, nodding once. “Then stay close and do as I say. We finish this together.”

The dragons roared in unison as the battle commenced. Sunfyre, with his golden scales gleaming in the early light, lunged toward Meleys, his jaws snapping with deadly intent. But the Red Queen was swift, twisting mid-air and lashing out with her claws. The sound of tearing flesh echoed through the sky as Meleys raked Sunfyre’s flank, dark blood spilling like eclipsed sunlight.

Loren and Valtyr dove toward Aegon, who clung desperately to his saddle as Sunfyre reeled from the attack. The younger dragon unleashed a torrent of flame, the green fire licking at Sunfyre’s wings. Aegon bellowed in pain as the heat seared his armor, and Sunfyre faltered, his once-majestic form reduced to a struggling shadow of its former glory.

“Aegon, fall back!” Aemond’s voice boomed from atop Vhagar, his expression twisted with fury. The massive she-dragon surged forward, her ancient wings beating with a thunderous rhythm.

“Not yet!” Aegon roared back, his pride outweighing his pain. But his defiance was short-lived as Meleys struck again, her claws slamming into Sunfyre’s side and sending him plummeting toward the earth.

Aegon screamed as his dragon crashed into the fields below, the impact shaking the ground and scattering soldiers like ants. Meleys circled above, her roar a triumphant challenge, but there was no time to celebrate. Vhagar, older and far more massive, let out a deafening roar and lunged for her.

“Loren, now!” Rhaenys commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Valtyr shot forward, green flames spewing from his maw as he closed the distance to Vhagar. The older dragon turned, her massive jaws snapping inches from Valtyr’s tail. Loren clung to his saddle, the heat and smoke stinging his eyes as he urged his dragon to climb higher, forcing Vhagar to follow.

“She’s too big!” Loren called out, his voice tight with effort. “We need to outmaneuver her!”

“Keep her focused on you!” Rhaenys replied, guiding Meleys into a flanking position. “I’ll strike where it hurts!”

Vhagar roared again, her ancient fury unmatched as she chased Valtyr through the smoke-filled sky. But Meleys was faster, her crimson wings a blur as she swooped beneath Vhagar, raking her belly with a savage strike. Vhagar bellowed in pain, her massive body twisting mid-air to retaliate.

Claws tore through the sky as the three dragons clashed, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Blood and scales rained down like grisly confetti, the once-blue sky streaked with fire and ash. Loren’s heart pounded as Valtyr narrowly avoided another devastating snap of Vhagar’s jaws, the young dragon twisting and diving with desperate agility.

“Hold on!” Loren shouted to himself, his knuckles white as he gripped the reins.

Below, Aemond snarled, his single eye blazing with rage as he guided Vhagar into another attack. “You’ll pay for this, boy!” he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din. “You and that wretched crone!”

Loren’s gaze hardened, his fear replaced by a surge of determination. “Come and try!” he shouted back.

Meleys surged forward again, her claws ripping into Vhagar’s wing. The ancient dragon roared in fury, her massive body buckling mid-air as blood gushed from the wound. But even wounded, Vhagar was a force to be reckoned with. With a final, deafening roar, she lunged forward, her massive weight slamming into both Meleys and Valtyr.

The impact was catastrophic. All three dragons became a tangle of wings, claws, and fire, their riders clinging desperately to their saddles as they plummeted toward the earth. Loren felt the air leave his lungs as Valtyr let out a pained shriek, his body twisting uncontrollably.

“Hold on!” Rhaenys’ voice reached him, her tone frantic.

The ground rushed toward them, the world a blur of chaos and destruction. Loren tightened his grip, his heart pounding as he prayed to the gods for a miracle. Around him, the sky seemed to collapse, fire and smoke consuming everything in its path.

And then came the crash.

The impact was deafening, the earth trembling beneath the weight of the fallen dragons. Dust and debris filled the air, the cries of men and beasts mingling in a cacophony of terror. Loren coughed, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him.

The world came back into focus sharply for Loren with a blinding pain in his head and a metallic taste in his mouth. He blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to steady as the ground beneath him swayed. Smoke filled the air, and the roars of dragons battling nearby were deafening, their cries reverberating across the desolate field.

When his vision cleared, he saw him. Aemond Targaryen, limping slightly but charging forward with a sword gleaming in his hand. His face was a mask of fury, the sapphire set in his empty eye socket glinting with malevolence. Blood streaked down his armor, and his pale hair was matted with soot and gore.

“You’ve overstepped, boy!” Aemond roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Now you’ll pay the price for your insolence!”

Loren scrambled to his feet, his body aching from the fall, and drew his sword—a finely crafted Lannister blade with a roaring lion etched into the hilt. His dragon, Valtyr, was somewhere in the distance, locked in a deadly struggle alongside Meleys against the massive form of Vhagar. The clash of claws and teeth rang out like thunder, but Loren’s focus was solely on the man bearing down on him.

“I’ll pay no price to a kinslayer!” Loren spat, steadying himself as Aemond closed the gap.

Aemond lunged, his sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. Loren parried just in time, the force of the blow sending vibrations up his arms. Aemond was relentless, his strikes coming fast and sharp, each one pushing Loren further back.

“You think you’re my equal?” Aemond sneered, pressing forward with another brutal swing. “You’re a cub playing at war!”

Loren gritted his teeth, ducking beneath the next strike and countering with a slash aimed at Aemond’s side. The blade bit into the prince’s armor, drawing blood, but Aemond barely flinched. Instead, he laughed—a cold, mirthless sound.

“You have fire,” Aemond said mockingly, his sapphire eye gleaming. “But fire alone won’t save you.”

Their swords clashed again, sparks flying as steel met steel. Loren’s arms ached with the effort of blocking Aemond’s powerful strikes, but he refused to give ground. He could feel the heat of the nearby battle, the earth trembling beneath the weight of the dragons’ struggle.

“You killed Luke!” Loren shouted, his voice raw with fury. “You killed my cousin, and you dare speak of fire?”

“Luke was weak,” Aemond snarled, his strikes growing more vicious. “A boy who couldn’t rise above his weakness. He deserved his fate.”

Loren roared, his anger fueling his movements as he pushed back against Aemond’s assault. He swung with all his might, his blade slicing across Aemond’s shoulder and drawing a spray of blood. Aemond staggered, but his grin only widened.

“Good,” Aemond hissed, blood dripping from his wound. “Show me the lion’s bite.”

Loren lunged again, his strikes faster now, driven by the memory of Luke and the injustice that had brought them to this moment. But Aemond was experienced, his movements fluid as he parried and countered with precision. Their blades locked, and Loren found himself face to face with his uncle, their breaths ragged.

“You’ll never be one of us,” Aemond growled, his voice low and venomous. “You’re no dragon—you’re just a lion cub pretending to roar.”

Loren gritted his teeth, twisting his blade free and delivering a sharp kick to Aemond’s knee. The prince stumbled, giving Loren a brief opening. He swung his sword, the blade carving a shallow gash across Aemond’s chest.

Aemond snarled, his fury evident as he retaliated with a brutal backhanded strike. The hilt of his sword caught Loren across the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Stars exploded in his vision as he tasted blood, but he refused to stay down.

With a groan, Loren rolled to his feet just as Aemond bore down on him. The prince’s blade sliced through the air, grazing Loren’s arm and leaving a deep gash. Blood poured from the wound, staining his tunic and dripping onto the ground.

“You’re finished!” Aemond roared, raising his sword for a killing blow.

But Loren wasn’t done. Summoning every ounce of strength, he surged forward, his sword driving upward in a desperate strike. The blade pierced Aemond’s side, the sound of metal slicing through flesh mingling with the prince’s cry of pain.

Aemond staggered back, clutching the wound as blood seeped between his fingers. His eye burned with hatred, but his movements were slower now, his strength waning.

Loren raised his blade, breathing heavily. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through him. “For Luke. For all of us.”

Aemond smirked through the blood staining his lips. “We’ll see about that, boy.”

Before Loren could strike again, the ground shook violently as the dragons’ battle reached a fever pitch. A deafening roar split the air, and Loren turned to see Valtyr and Meleys locked in a final, desperate struggle with Vhagar. The three dragons tumbled from the sky, their massive forms crashing into the field with a sound like thunder.

The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield, knocking both Loren and Aemond to the ground. Loren’s vision blurred as the dust and debris clouded the air, but he forced himself to rise, his gaze fixed on the wreckage of wings and fire.

The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Smoke thickened the air, and the crash of the dragons’ fall left the earth trembling. The clash of claws and teeth echoed across the bloodied field as Valtyr and Meleys struggled against Vhagar, the ancient she-dragon’s ferocity unmatched. In the distance, Aemond and Loren still stood, battered and bloodied, their duel momentarily halted as both stared at the carnage.

And then, another roar tore through the sky—a sound like a clarion call, fierce and unrelenting. All heads turned skyward as Rhaella Targaryen descended on her sleek, sapphire-scaled dragon, Aelirys, his wings cutting through the smoky air like a blade.

Rhaella’s voice rang out, strong and defiant, even over the chaos. “For Luke! For Rhaenyra!”

Her words galvanized the field as Aelirys dove into the fray, his sapphire flames pouring over Vhagar’s side. The larger dragon bellowed in rage, her massive form twisting to face this new threat. Blood already streaked her scales from her struggle with Meleys and Valtyr, but she showed no sign of yielding.

“Rhaella, no!” Loren shouted, his voice cracking with panic. “Stay back!”

But Rhaella was undeterred, her violet eyes blazing with fury. “You need me, Loren! You all do!”

She spurred Aelirys forward, the smaller dragon weaving nimbly through Vhagar’s attempts to swat him from the sky. The clash of dragons intensified as Aelirys struck with his claws, raking deep wounds along Vhagar’s flank. The ancient dragon roared, her massive tail swinging like a battering ram and narrowly missing Meleys, who retaliated with a savage bite to Vhagar’s neck.

Below, Loren turned back to Aemond, his grip tightening on his sword. “It’s over, Aemond,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. “You’ve lost.”

Aemond smirked, blood dripping from his mouth as he raised his sword. “Lost? Look around you, boy. This is only the beginning.”

With a roar, Aemond lunged, their blades clashing once more. Loren fought with renewed determination, his strikes fueled by the sight of his sister joining the battle above. The clang of steel rang out as the two young men exchanged blow after blow, their movements growing more desperate and brutal.

Above them, the dragons’ fight reached a fever pitch. Aelirys and Valtyr worked in tandem, the younger dragons striking at Vhagar’s exposed sides while Meleys kept her jaws locked on the larger dragon’s neck. Blood poured from Vhagar’s wounds, staining the battlefield below as her roars grew weaker.

“Keep pushing!” Rhaella shouted, her voice fierce as she guided Aelirys into another dive. The blue dragon released a torrent of sapphire flames, the searing heat scorching Vhagar’s already-tattered wings.

But Vhagar was not done. With a final, desperate burst of strength, she twisted her massive body, throwing Meleys off balance. The Red Queen screeched as she tumbled, her rider clinging tightly to her saddle. Valtyr moved to shield her, but Vhagar’s claws raked across his side, leaving deep, bloody gashes.

“Valtyr!” Loren cried out, his heart lurching as his dragon faltered in the air.

Rhaella’s voice cut through his panic. “He’s strong, Loren! Focus!”

Her words steadied him, and he turned back to Aemond, who was breathing heavily, his armor slick with blood. The prince smirked, though his strength was clearly waning. “Your sister has spirit,” Aemond said, his voice taunting. “Shame she’s bound to fall like the rest of your family.”

Loren roared, his sword slashing through the air with renewed vigor. Aemond parried, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling back. “You won’t touch her,” Loren growled, his strikes coming faster now. “You won’t touch any of us!”

Above, Aelirys and Valtyr regrouped, their combined flames engulfing Vhagar in a brilliant blaze. The ancient dragon roared one last time, her movements slowing as her wounds took their toll. Meleys, bloodied but determined, surged forward, her claws sinking into Vhagar’s chest as she drove the larger dragon toward the ground.

Rhaella’s voice rang out again, her tone triumphant. “We have her!”

But Vhagar, even in her death throes, was not to be underestimated. With a final, desperate effort, she lashed out, her massive tail striking Aelirys and sending him spiraling. Rhaella cried out, clutching the reins as her dragon struggled to steady himself.

On the ground, Loren saw his sister’s peril and screamed, “Rhaella!”

Aemond took advantage of his distraction, lunging forward with his sword. The blade sliced across Loren’s side, drawing a deep wound that sent him to his knees. Aemond stood over him, breathing heavily, his violet eye blazing with triumph.

“You’ll die here, boy,” Aemond sneered, raising his blade for the killing blow.

But before he could strike, a shadow passed over them. Valtyr descended like a vengeful spirit, his roar shaking the battlefield as he unleashed a torrent of flame. Aemond barely had time to leap back, the heat singing his armor as he cursed and stumbled.

Loren seized the moment, his hand clutching his sword as he forced himself to his feet. With a roar of his own, he drove the blade forward, piercing Aemond’s side. The prince gasped, blood spilling from the wound as he staggered back.

“You’ll never win,” Loren said, his voice cold as he stepped closer. “Not while we stand.”

Above, Meleys delivered the final blow, her jaws crushing Vhagar’s throat as the ancient dragon fell silent. The battlefield grew quiet, the roars and flames replaced by the crackle of distant fires and the labored breathing of the survivors.

Rhaella guided Aelirys back to the ground, her expression fierce but relieved as she dismounted. She rushed to Loren, who was leaning heavily on his sword, blood staining his armor.

“Loren,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll live,” he replied, his gaze drifting to Aemond, who lay crumpled on the ground, his breaths shallow. “But he won’t forget this.”

Rhaella’s expression hardened, and she nodded. Together, they turned to face the battlefield, the cost of victory heavy on their shoulders.

The morning sun cast a pale light over the scorched and blood-soaked battlefield of Rook’s Rest. The acrid scent of charred flesh and dragonfire lingered in the air, mingling with the cries of wounded soldiers and the low growls of restless dragons. Smoke curled lazily into the sky, a grim reminder of the carnage that had unfolded.

Loren sat slumped against a broken piece of stone, his armor dented and smeared with blood, his breathing labored. His side ached where Aemond's blade had struck, the hastily applied bandages doing little to stem the pain. Nearby, Aemond Targaryen lay barely alive, his once-imposing figure now broken and bloodied. His sword rested a few feet from his limp hand, forgotten in the chaos.

The sound of marching boots echoed through the battlefield as Daemon Targaryen, Jason Lannister, and Corlys Velaryon arrived with their respective forces. The banners of House Velaryon, House Targaryen, and House Lannister fluttered in the breeze, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the devastation around them.

Daemon rode at the forefront, his silver hair glinting in the light as he surveyed the scene. His violet eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Vhagar’s broken form, the fallen Sunfyre, and the wounded Valtyr, Meleys, and Aelirys resting nearby. His expression darkened further when his gaze landed on Loren.

“Loren,” Daemon called as he dismounted, his boots crunching against the ash-strewn ground. “You look like hell.”

Loren managed a weak smile, his voice hoarse. “And yet, I’m still breathing. Can’t say the same for Aegon.”

Daemon’s smirk was fleeting as his gaze shifted to Aemond’s crumpled form. “Aemond’s alive,” he noted coldly, striding toward the wounded prince. “Pity.”

Jason dismounted next, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration. “You reckless fool,” he said, crouching beside Loren. “You could have died.”

“I had to,” Loren said, wincing as he adjusted himself against the stone. “We couldn’t let them win.”

Jason shook his head, his tone softening. “You’re too much like your father. Stubborn to a fault.”

Corlys joined them, his sharp gaze assessing the battlefield. “You held them off long enough for us to arrive. You’ve done well, boy.”

Loren gave a faint nod, his eyes flicking to Aemond. “He’s dangerous. If he lives…”

Daemon interrupted, his voice laced with disdain. “He won’t pose a threat. Not in this state.”

Daemon stood over Aemond, his expression a mixture of contempt and triumph. “You thought yourself invincible, didn’t you, nephew?” he said, his tone mocking. “But even the might of Vhagar couldn’t save you.”

Aemond groaned weakly, his one remaining eye fluttering open to glare at Daemon. “You… haven’t won,” he rasped, blood trickling from his lips. “This… isn’t over.”

Daemon crouched beside him, his smirk cruel. “Oh, but it is, Aemond. Your dragons are dead or dying, your brother is ashes, and you—” he gestured to Aemond’s broken form— “are barely clinging to life. Tell me, where’s your victory now?”

Jason approached, his voice measured. “What do we do with him?”

“Kill him,” Daemon said without hesitation, his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister. “It’s what he deserves.”

“No,” Loren interjected, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. “Not like this.”

Daemon turned, his expression darkening. “He killed your cousin, boy. Do you really think he deserves mercy?”

Loren met his gaze, unflinching. “I’m not saying he deserves it. But killing him now, when he’s defenseless, makes us no better than him.”

Corlys nodded slowly, his tone thoughtful. “The boy has a point. Executing Aemond like this could turn him into a martyr for their cause. It’s a risk we can’t ignore.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he rose, his gaze sweeping the battlefield. “Very well. We’ll take him as a prisoner. But I warn you, Loren—if he becomes a problem, his blood will be on your hands.”

Loren nodded, his resolve unshaken. “I’ll take that chance.”

Jason clapped his nephew on the shoulder, his expression proud. “You’ve got the heart of a lion, Loren. Let’s hope it’s enough.”

As the soldiers moved to secure Aemond, Daemon turned back to the dragons. Meleys stood tall despite her wounds, her blood-red scales streaked with gore. Valtyr rested nearby, his golden-green eyes watching Loren protectively. Aelirys perched on a crumbled tower, her sapphire scales shimmering despite the soot and ash.

“We’ve won the day,” Daemon said, his voice carrying across the field. “But the war is far from over. Gather your strength—we’ll need it.”

Loren leaned back against the stone, his gaze drifting to the sky. The cost of victory weighed heavily on his mind, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of relief.

The throne room sat heavy under the weight of foreboding, its high ceilings amplifying the silence. Queen Alicent sat rigidly on the Iron Throne, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Beside her, Otto Hightower stood, his face a carefully composed mask, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

The air grew heavier still as a messenger entered, his boots echoing sharply on the stone floor. He carried a scroll bearing a black wax seal, its edges frayed as though it had been handled with haste. Alicent’s gaze snapped to the man, her green eyes sharp as daggers.

“Speak,” she commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The messenger knelt, his voice trembling as he began. “My Queen… news from Rook’s Rest.”

Otto stiffened, stepping closer as Alicent’s fingers dug into the arms of the throne. “What news?” he demanded.

The messenger hesitated, his gaze flicking between the Queen and the Hand. “King Aegon… is dead. His dragon, Sunfyre, is no more. Vhagar… has fallen as well.”

The words hung in the air like a curse, the weight of them crashing down upon the room. Alicent’s breath hitched, her composure wavering as her mind struggled to process the blow.

“And… my other son?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The messenger swallowed hard. “Prince Aemond is alive, Your Grace, but grievously wounded. He is held captive by the Blacks.”

A sharp intake of breath came from Alicent, her mask of control shattering for a moment. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, this cannot be.”

Otto’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the throne as he leaned forward. “How did this happen?” he demanded. “How could two of our greatest dragons and their riders fall?”

“The Blacks had reinforcements,” the messenger explained, his voice trembling. “Prince Daemon and his forces arrived after the initial battle. Lady Rhaenys fought valiantly, as did the young Lord Loren Lannister. Together, they brought down both Sunfyre and Vhagar.”

Otto’s face darkened, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Loren Lannister… the lion cub. Tyland’s boy.”

Alicent’s hands trembled as she gripped the throne, her knuckles white. “And Aemond?” she pressed, her voice cracking. “How badly is he hurt?”

The messenger hesitated, his eyes lowering. “He is said to be barely alive, my Queen. His wounds are severe.”

Alicent let out a shuddering breath, her chest heaving as tears threatened to spill. “My sons,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “My Aegon, my Aemond…”

Otto placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his expression cold and calculating. “We cannot afford to falter now,” he said sharply. “This war is not over.”

Alicent’s gaze snapped to him, her eyes blazing with anger and despair. “My son is dying, Father! My eldest is dead! How can you speak of war when my family is being torn apart?”

Otto’s voice hardened, his tone brooking no argument. “Because we must. Aegon may be gone, but Aemond still lives. We must secure him and rally what remains of our forces. If we show weakness now, Rhaenyra will seize the throne completely.”

Alicent stood abruptly, her composure unraveling as she paced the room. “And what of my son?” she demanded. “Do you truly believe they will spare him? That Daemon will show mercy?”

Otto’s silence spoke volumes, his lips pressing into a thin line. Alicent’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

“We must send word,” she said finally, her voice trembling but resolute. “To retrieve Aemond. Whatever it takes, he must be brought back to us.”

“And if they refuse?” Otto asked, his tone calculated.

Alicent’s gaze hardened, her grief giving way to steel. “Then we will remind them what it means to cross House Hightower.”

The throne room fell silent once more, the weight of the Queen’s words hanging heavily in the air. Outside, the bells of the city tolled mournfully, their somber tones echoing across King’s Landing.

The battlefield of Tumbleton was chaos—a sprawling tapestry of fire, blood, and betrayal. The flames of dragonfire consumed the once-prosperous town, casting a hellish glow that turned the night into day. Soldiers screamed as they fell, their cries drowned out by the deafening roars of dragons above.

Belerix, your massive dragon circled high, his piercing roar shaking the earth below. His molten eyes scanned the carnage, nostrils flaring as he breathed in the scent of burning wood and flesh. Seated firmly in the saddle, your grip tightened on the reins, your gaze fixed on two figures above: Daeron Targaryen astride his cobalt-blue dragon, Tessarion, and Ulf the White, the traitorous rider of Silverwing.

“Traitors to the throne, both of them,” you spat under your breath, your voice filled with venom.

From the western flank, Addam Velaryon on Seasmoke rose into the skies, the pale-gray dragon's wings cutting through the thick smoke. Below, Lannister forces, led by Jason Lannister himself, surged forward, their crimson and gold banners streaming as they engaged the green loyalist forces in brutal melee combat.

“Addam,” you called, your voice carried by the wind as Belerix flanked Seasmoke. “We’ll take Tessarion together. Jason’s forces can handle the traitors on the ground.”

Addam nodded, his youthful face hardened by the firelight. “Understood. But what about Silverwing?”

Your gaze darkened as you turned toward Ulf the White, his dragon circling menacingly near Tessarion. “Silverwing is mine.”

Addam hesitated for a moment but trusted your resolve. With a sharp command to Seasmoke, he veered toward Tessarion, his dragon’s roar echoing as he descended on Daeron.

Belerix bellowed a challenge, his massive wings propelling you forward as you locked onto Silverwing. Ulf turned just in time to see your approach, his eyes widening as Belerix unleashed a torrent of blue-and-gold flame. Silverwing twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the inferno, but her silver scales were singed, her anguished cry cutting through the chaos.

“Face me, you coward!” you roared, guiding Belerix into a dive.

Ulf snarled, his voice carrying over the wind. “You’re outmatched, Princess! You’ll die like the rest of your family!”

Belerix’s jaws snapped inches from Silverwing’s tail, his claws raking across her flank as the two dragons collided. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, the force nearly unseating you from your saddle. Silverwing shrieked, her blood splattering onto the battlefield below.

Ulf drew his sword, shouting obscenities as he tried to maneuver his dragon. “You think you can stop me? I’ll carve your name into this battlefield!”

“Try it,” you hissed, guiding Belerix into another strike. The massive dragon slammed into Silverwing again, his claws digging into her side as his teeth sought her vulnerable neck.

Below, Addam and Seasmoke engaged Tessarion in a deadly dance. The cobalt-blue dragon twisted and turned, her flames lighting up the sky, but Seasmoke was faster, darting in and out of range with precision strikes. Addam shouted commands, his voice filled with determination as he fought to bring down the younger prince.

Jason’s forces surged through the town, cutting down loyalists and securing key positions. The clang of steel on steel and the cries of dying men filled the air, the ground beneath their feet slick with blood. Jason himself was in the thick of it, his golden armor gleaming as he struck down a charging enemy with a swing of his blade.

Above, Belerix and Silverwing continued their brutal clash. Ulf swung his sword wildly, his strikes falling short as you deftly guided Belerix out of range.

“Enough of this!” you shouted, your voice filled with fury. “Belerix, end it!”

Your dragon roared in response, his massive jaws closing around Silverwing’s neck in a bone-crushing grip. The silver dragon thrashed and screamed, her wings flailing as she struggled to break free. Ulf cursed and shouted, his sword clattering uselessly against Belerix’s armored scales.

With a final, deafening crunch, Belerix severed Silverwing’s throat, her lifeblood spilling onto the battlefield below. Ulf the White screamed in fury and despair, but his cries were cut short as Belerix’s claws raked across his body, tearing him from his saddle and casting him into the inferno below.

You stared down at the lifeless form of Silverwing as she plummeted to the earth, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “One traitor down,” you muttered, turning your gaze toward Tessarion.

Meanwhile, Seasmoke and Tessarion clashed viciously, their roars shaking the heavens as their riders dueled with words and weapons. Addam pressed the attack, his dragon’s agility proving superior as Seasmoke’s claws raked across Tessarion’s wings.

“You’ll regret this, bastard!” Daeron shouted, his voice filled with rage. “You are nothing but a pretender!”

“And you,” Addam retorted, his voice cold and steady, “are a usurper.”

You guided Belerix toward the fray, your dragon roaring as he joined Seasmoke in the assault. The combined might of the two dragons overwhelmed Tessarion, who let out a final, pitiful cry as Belerix’s flames engulfed her. Daeron screamed as he was thrown from his saddle, his body consumed by the fire before it ever hit the ground.

The battlefield fell eerily silent as the last of the Green forces were routed. The sight of their prince’s lifeless body and the fallen dragons broke their spirits, and they fled in droves, leaving Tumbleton to the Blacks.

You landed Belerix near the center of the town, his bloodied claws sinking into the scorched earth. Addam dismounted Seasmoke, his face pale but resolute as he approached.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, your gaze sweeping over the battlefield. “Tumbleton is ours. The traitors are dead.”

Jason arrived moments later, his armor smeared with blood and soot. “We’ve secured the town,” he reported, his tone grim. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

You dismounted, your legs trembling as you steadied yourself.

The three of you stood amidst the wreckage, the weight of your victory tempered by the knowledge of what lay ahead. The dragons roared one last time, their cries echoing across the desolate battlefield as a reminder of the price of power.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and amber, an ominous prelude to the events unfolding below. The roar of Balerix, your sapphire-and-silver dragon, reverberated across the expanse as he flew alongside Syrax, Rhaenyra’s golden-hued dragon. The capital of King’s Landing loomed ahead, its walls and towers casting long shadows over the city. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, but soon, a darker smoke would rise to mark the beginning of a new rule.

Below, Corlys Velaryon led his fleet into Blackwater Bay, their sails emblazoned with the seahorse of Driftmark. Beside him marched Daemon Targaryen, his dark armor glinting menacingly as he led the ground forces—a combined force of Velaryon soldiers, Lannister bannermen commanded by Tyland and Loren, and the remnants of loyal troops from the Riverlands.

The sight of the dragons overhead spread panic through the streets of King’s Landing. Smallfolk screamed and scattered, soldiers on the walls froze in terror, and bells began to toll—first as a warning, then as a call for surrender.

Rhaenyra’s voice carried through the wind as she turned to you, her silver hair whipping around her face. “This city will fall today, sister,” she said, her tone cold. “And with it, the Greens.”

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the Red Keep, where banners of green still flew defiantly. “Otto and Alicent will answer for their crimes.”

As the dragons descended, Syrax let out a piercing roar, her flames scorching the gates of the city. The wooden beams and metal hinges glowed red-hot, the force of the fire splintering them apart. Balerix followed, his sapphire flames engulfing the surrounding walls, sending defenders scattering.

The gates gave way, and Daemon's forces surged forward, the sound of clashing steel and war cries filling the air. Corlys’s ships unleashed volleys of arrows and flaming projectiles, striking key positions along the harbor to prevent reinforcements from arriving by sea.

As Syrax and Balerix soared above the city, their shadows casting fear onto the panicked masses, you followed Rhaenyra’s lead toward the Red Keep. The Keep stood defiant, its towering walls a stark reminder of the Targaryen dynasty's strength. But today, that dynasty was fractured, and you were here to reunite it by fire and blood.

“Hold back no longer!” Rhaenyra commanded, guiding Syrax to land in the courtyard. Soldiers scrambled to take defensive positions, but their resolve wavered as Balerix landed beside her, his massive form dwarfing them.

You dismounted, your armor gleaming in the morning light. “Surrender!” you shouted, your voice echoing off the stone walls. “Or face the wrath of the dragons!”

Some dropped their weapons, their courage faltering in the face of certain death. Others charged, desperation driving their actions. But Syrax and Balerix were swift, their flames cutting down any resistance as the Targaryen banners were hoisted in place of the green.

As you entered the Red Keep, the halls were eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of battle. Rhaenyra led the way, her gaze sharp as she approached the throne room. The doors creaked open, revealing Alicent Hightower standing at the base of the Iron Throne.

Alicent’s expression was a mixture of fear and defiance as she stepped forward. “You have no claim here, Rhaenyra,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “This throne belongs to my blood.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed as she approached, her presence commanding. “Aegon is a dead usurper. You knew this, Alicent. You orchestrated it. And now, it ends.”

You stood beside your sister, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. “The city is ours. The Greens have lost. Stand down, or face the consequences.”

Alicent hesitated, her gaze flickering to her daughter. Helaena clutched her children protectively, her eyes wide with fear.

“This is madness,” Alicent said, her voice breaking. “The realm will burn because of you.”

Rhaenyra’s voice was icy. “The realm burns because of you.”

With a final, piercing glare, Alicent dropped to her knees, her Helaena following reluctantly with her chidlren. The sight filled you with a grim satisfaction. The Greens were defeated.

Outside the Red Keep, the banners of House Targaryen flew high once more. Daemon and Corlys entered the gates with their victorious forces, their armor bloodied but their spirits high. Tyland and Loren dismounted nearby, their expressions weary but relieved.

Tyland approached you as you emerged from the Keep, his eyes scanning you for injuries. “You’re unharmed,” he said, his voice heavy with relief.

You nodded, resting your hand on his arm. “It’s done. The city is ours.”

Loren joined you, his youthful face hardened by the realities of war. “And the Greens?”

“On their knees,” you replied, your gaze shifting to the distant horizon. “But this is just the beginning. The realm won’t accept this easily.”

Daemon strode toward you, his smirk faint. “Let them challenge us. We have dragons, and now, we have the throne.”

The sky above King’s Landing was thick with smoke, the scent of victory mingling with the cost it had demanded. As you looked upon the city, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead.

An excerpt from "The Dance of Dragons: A History of the Civil War Between Targaryens" by Archmaester Vaenion

The union of Tyland Lannister and Princess Y/N Targaryen, though initially questioned by many, emerged as one of the most pivotal alliances during the Targaryen civil war. Their partnership, built on mutual respect and shared purpose, not only shaped the course of the Dance of Dragons but also cemented a lasting legacy for both House Targaryen and House Lannister.

Princess Y/N’s betrothal to Tyland Lannister was, at first glance, a surprising match. A calculated maneuver by King Viserys I, it was seen as a strategic alliance to bind the powerful Westerlands to the Iron Throne. Yet, what began as a political union quickly grew into a genuine partnership.

Tyland, known for his cunning and practicality, was often underestimated compared to his boisterous twin, Jason Lannister. However, it was Tyland’s sharp mind and unwavering loyalty that won over the Sapphire Princess. Their secret romance, whispered about in the halls of the Red Keep, became public when King Viserys formally announced their engagement. Their marriage, celebrated with great splendor, brought the Lannister banners into Queen Rhaenyra’s fold when the civil war broke out.

The War and Their Role

While many questioned the decision to involve the Westerlands so heavily in the Dance, Tyland and Y/N proved to be invaluable to Rhaenyra’s cause. Princess Y/N, with her dragon Belerix, was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Her decisive actions at Tumbleton, where she struck down the traitor Ulf the White and Prince Daeron Targaryen, marked a turning point in the war. Her sapphire flames engulfed the battlefield, earning her the title "The Sapphire Flame" among her enemies.

Tyland, meanwhile, played a more subtle but equally vital role. His ability to manage alliances, supply lines, and logistics proved critical, especially during the retaking of King’s Landing. It was said that while Rhaenyra and Daemon wielded fire and blood, Tyland wielded the quill and coin, ensuring their campaigns could continue.

Their children—Loren, Rhaelle, Kevan, Alysanne, and the youngest, Jaeryn—represented the unity of their houses. Loren, the rider of Valtyr, and Rhaelle, who bonded with Aelirys, carried forward the legacy of fire and blood alongside their parents.

Challenges and Triumphs

The war tested their bond, particularly when Loren Lannister defied his mother’s wishes to fight alongside Daemon Targaryen at Harrenhal. Tyland, ever the mediator, balanced his wife’s fiery temper with his measured reasoning, ensuring the family remained united despite the chaos. This dynamic—Y/N’s unyielding passion and Tyland’s calm pragmatism—became the cornerstone of their relationship.

Their support of Rhaenyra came at a cost. Tyland’s defiance of Otto Hightower and the Greens led to threats against his family, forcing him to flee with Y/N and their children to Casterly Rock. Their return to King’s Landing, victorious, marked a triumph not only for the Blacks but for their union as well.

A Legacy Forged in Fire

In the aftermath of the Dance, Tyland and Y/N worked tirelessly to rebuild what the war had destroyed. They strengthened alliances, secured trade for the Westerlands, and ensured that House Lannister’s role in supporting Rhaenyra’s reign was not forgotten.

Tyland’s legacy was one of intellect and resilience, a man who proved that strength came in many forms. Y/N, with her dragon and her unwavering loyalty to her sister, embodied the indomitable spirit of House Targaryen. Together, they were a testament to what could be achieved when fire and gold were united.

Their story is remembered not as one of mere political convenience, but as a tale of partnership, love, and the unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of war.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #hotd tyland #tyland lannister #tyland x reader #tyland x you #tyland x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #to win a princess

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delusionalfanficwriter · 2 days ago

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Kristie & Her Firefighter (Ariana OG character)

The air smelled like roasted chestnuts and city streets—Kristie loved this time of year, the way the crispness of fall wrapped itself around everything like a warm scarf. She held Ariana’s hand tightly as they walked through downtown Seattle, both savoring a rare day off together. Ariana had been practically glued to Station 19 since she joined the crew a year ago, trading her cleats for turnout gear after retiring from soccer. Kristie couldn’t be prouder, even if she hated the late nights and early mornings that came with the job. Ariana was a hero, plain and simple.

“What are you thinking about?” Ariana asked, her voice low, carrying that calm confidence that had drawn Kristie to her in the first place.

“You,” Kristie admitted with a grin, bumping her hip against Ariana’s. “And how lucky I am.”

Ariana chuckled, squeezing Kristie’s hand. “I’m the lucky one.”

They turned a corner, and that’s when it hit them: the acrid smell of smoke, sharp and unmistakable. Kristie stopped in her tracks as Ariana’s head snapped toward the source. About a block away, a small house was engulfed in flames, the orange and red licking hungrily at the sky

“Oh my God,” Kristie gasped.

Ariana didn’t waste a second. “Call 911,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding. Her hand slipped out of Kristie’s as she started toward the house.

“Ariana, wait!” Kristie’s voice cracked, panic setting in. “You’re not on duty!”

But Ariana was already moving, her pace quickening as shouts erupted from the growing crowd of onlookers. A woman stood on the front lawn, screaming, her words fractured and frantic.

“My babies! Please! They’re still inside!”

Ariana froze mid-stride. Her breath hitched, her mind processing the weight of those words. Her feet moved before her brain could catch up, instincts and adrenaline taking over. She turned back to Kristie, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Call 911. Tell them there are kids trapped inside.”

“Ariana, don’t!” Kristie yelled, her voice cracking as Ariana broke into a full sprint toward the inferno.

The heat was immediate, pressing against Ariana’s skin like a wall of fire even before she reached the doorway. Smoke billowed out, thick and black, stinging her eyes and clawing at her throat. She crouched low, instinctively pulling her hoodie up to cover her nose and mouth. The roar of the flames was deafening, drowning out everything but the erratic pounding of her heart.

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” she shouted, her voice hoarse and strained.

The muffled sound of crying cut through the crackling of wood. Ariana dropped lower, her hand skimming the floor as she followed the sound. She moved quickly but carefully, navigating through a haze of smoke and heat that seemed to cling to her like a second skin.

“In here!” a small, panicked voice called from somewhere in the back.

Ariana pushed forward, the heat intensifying with every step. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, the air thick with smoke and ash. She found them in the kitchen—a boy, maybe seven, and a little girl no older than three. They were huddled under a table, the boy shielding his sister with his body.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Ariana said, her voice as calm as she could make it. She crouched down, extending her arms. “We’re going to get out of here, I promise. Can you walk?”

The boy nodded, clutching his sister tightly. Ariana didn’t hesitate. She scooped the little girl into her arms and grabbed the boy’s hand, leading them toward what should have been the front door. But when she turned the corner, her heart sank. Flames had engulfed the entryway, cutting off their exit.

“Damn it,” she muttered, scanning the room for another way out. The fire was spreading faster than she’d expected, the structure groaning under its own weight.

They were almost there when the beam gave way, crashing to the floor inches from where they stood. Ariana shielded the kids with her body, her heart pounding as she scrambled to her feet.

“Almost there,” she muttered, more to herself than to them.

...

Maya Bishop jumped out first, followed by Jack, Travis, and the rest of the crew. Kristie ran to Maya, desperation etched on her face.

“Ariana’s in there!” she yelled.

Maya’s face darkened. “Of course she is,” she muttered. “She can’t help herself.”

“She heard there were kids inside,” Kristie added, her voice trembling. “Please, get her out.”

Maya nodded, already strapping on her helmet. “We will.”

Inside, Ariana was backing toward a window, shielding the kids with her body as flames roared around them. She felt her strength flagging, the heat pressing in from all sides, when she heard the faint but unmistakable sound of her team’s voices.

“Ariana! Where are you?” Jack’s voice boomed through the chaos.

��In here!” a small, panicked voice called from somewhere in the back.

Outside, Maya and Jack breached the front door, the heat and smoke hitting them like a freight train. They moved quickly, scanning the house for signs of life. Jack spotted movement near the window and shouted to Maya.

“There! By the living room!”

Maya nodded, motioning for him to cover her as she moved toward the window. Through the thick smoke, she saw Ariana, clutching a little girl with one arm while guiding a boy with the other.

“Ariana!” Maya called, her voice muffled by her mask.

Ariana’s head snapped up, relief flooding her face. “I’ve got them!” she shouted back.

Jack smashed the window with the butt of his axe, clearing the way as Maya reached in to help. They got the kids out first, handing them off to Travis, who waited outside. Then Maya extended her hand to Ariana.

“Come on, let’s go!” Maya yelled.

Ariana hesitated for a split second, her legs trembling from exhaustion. But she grabbed Maya’s hand, letting herself be pulled through the window just as another beam collapsed behind her.

The flames roared behind them as Maya and Jack helped Ariana through the shattered living room window, their movements swift and methodical. Once outside, Ariana leaned forward, hands braced on her knees, coughing a few times but quickly straightening up. She brushed soot from her face, giving Maya a lopsided grin.

“Not bad for a retired athlete, huh?” Ariana quipped, her voice raspy but laced with humor. She turned to Kristie, who was already rushing toward her. “You see that? Still got it.”

Kristie didn’t bother with words. She threw her arms around Ariana, holding her tightly despite the soot and sweat. “You scared the hell out of me,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Ariana patted her back, chuckling softly. “Come on, babe. I’ve done worse. You’re dating a firefighter, remember?”

Jack, standing nearby, shook his head with a small grin. “She’s been one of us for too long—she thinks this is normal.”

“Definitely normal,” Ariana said, cracking a crooked smile as she wiped her forehead, leaving a streak of soot across her face. “Save some kids, ruin my hoodie, get yelled at by my girlfriend—just a day off.”

Maya smirked but kept her eyes on Ariana, her sharp gaze catching the subtle tension in her posture. “Yeah, well, don’t think you’re out of the woods yet. You inhaled a lot of smoke in there. We’ll check you out back at the station.”

“I’m fine, Bishop,” Ariana said, waving her off. “Stop mothering me.”

But as she said it, she wavered slightly, just enough for Kristie to notice. Kristie stepped back, her brow furrowing as she looked at Ariana more closely.

“Ari, are you sure you’re okay?” Kristie asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” Ariana replied, though her smile faltered. She took a shaky breath and blinked rapidly, her vision swimming for a moment. “I just... need a minute.”

The words barely left her lips before her legs buckled. She stumbled forward, and Maya caught her, lowering her gently to the ground.

“Ariana!” Kristie’s voice cracked as she dropped to her knees beside her.

Jack was at Kristie’s side in an instant, gently pulling her back. “Kristie, give them space,” he said softly but firmly, his arm steadying her as she started to panic.

Maya crouched next to Ariana, her voice calm but commanding. “Ari, stay with me. Can you hear me? What’s going on?”

Ariana’s head lolled to the side, her breathing shallow and erratic. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, and she struggled to speak. “Just... tired,” she rasped.

“Her breathing’s too shallow,” Maya said, glancing over her shoulder. “Travis! Get me oxygen now!”

Travis sprinted to the truck, returning seconds later with a portable oxygen tank and mask. Maya placed the mask over Ariana’s face, adjusting it carefully.

“Come on, Ari, breathe,” Maya urged, her voice tight but steady. “Deep breaths. You can do this.”

Ariana’s hand twitched, as if she was trying to push the mask away, but her strength was fading. Maya pressed two fingers to her neck, her expression darkening as she checked her pulse.

“It’s fast, but weak,” Maya said. “She’s crashing.”

Kristie let out a strangled sob, and Jack tightened his hold on her, his voice soothing. “They’ve got her, Kristie. Maya knows what she’s doing.”

Kristie nodded, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Jack’s arm. “She was fine two minutes ago,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “She was joking with me.”

Maya’s voice cut through the chaos. “She’s compensating for something. We need to figure out what.” She leaned closer to Ariana, her tone softening. “Ari, listen to me. Did you hit your head? Do you feel any pain?”

Ariana blinked sluggishly, her lips moving under the mask. Maya leaned closer, straining to hear.

“...chest... hurts,” Ariana whispered, her words barely audible.

Maya’s jaw tightened. She looked up at Jack and Travis. “It might be smoke inhalation, but if she’s saying chest pain, we can’t rule out a cardiac issue. We need to move her now. We’re taking her ourselves. Jack, help me get her on the stretcher.”

Jack nodded, releasing Kristie and moving quickly to Maya’s side. Together, they lifted Ariana onto the stretcher, securing her as carefully as possible.

Kristie clung to Travis, her breathing ragged as she watched. “Is she going to be okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s tough,” Travis reassured her, though his own worry was evident. “She’ll pull through.”

As they loaded Ariana into the back of the truck, Maya turned to Kristie, her expression softening. “You’re coming with us. Get in.”

Kristie didn’t hesitate, climbing into the truck and taking Ariana’s hand. “I’m here,” she whispered, her tears falling freely. “I’m right here.”

Maya sat beside Ariana, her eyes locked on the monitor as they sped toward the hospital. Her hand rested lightly on Ariana’s arm, her voice steady as she spoke.

“Stay with us, Ari,” Maya murmured. “We’ve got you. Just hang on.”

The sirens wailed, the urgency of their mission echoing through the night.

The ambulance’s sirens wailed, drowning out the pounding of Kristie’s heart. She sat next to Ariana on the narrow bench, clutching her girlfriend’s hand as Maya worked efficiently beside her, her focus locked on the monitor displaying Ariana’s vitals.

“She’s still tachycardic,” Maya muttered, frowning at the screen. “Heart rate’s through the roof, and it’s irregular. Damn it.”

Kristie’s stomach twisted. “What does that mean? What’s wrong with her?”

Maya glanced at her, her expression professional but tinged with concern. “It’s likely from the smoke inhalation—carbon monoxide poisoning can cause arrhythmias. But until we run tests at the hospital, we can’t rule out other things, like if she hit her head or had some kind of cardiac event.”

Kristie’s grip tightened on Ariana’s hand, her knuckles white. Ariana stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment before sliding shut again.

“Ari, hey,” Kristie said, her voice trembling. “Stay with me, babe. You’re scaring me.”

Ariana’s lips moved faintly under the oxygen mask, but no sound came out. Kristie looked at Maya, her panic bubbling over. “Why isn’t she saying anything? She was talking before.”

“She’s slipping in and out of consciousness,” Maya said evenly, though the tightness in her jaw betrayed her worry. “That’s why we need to keep her oxygenated and monitor her. If her rhythm worsens or her oxygen levels drop—” She stopped herself, not wanting to say the worst aloud.

Maya pulled out her phone, typing a quick text with one hand while keeping her other hand on Ariana’s wrist, checking her pulse. Kristie caught a glimpse of the name: Carina.

“Emergency. Ariana’s in bad shape. Meet us at the ER. Kristie needs you.”

Kristie blinked back tears, focusing on Ariana’s face. Her girlfriend’s usual fire and humor were gone, replaced by pallor and shallow breaths. “Come on, Ari,” Kristie whispered. “You’re tougher than this. You don’t get to scare me like this.”

Ariana’s eyes fluttered open again, glassy and unfocused. “Kris...tie,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

“I’m here,” Kristie said quickly, leaning closer. “I’m right here, baby. Just hang on.”

“Hurts...” Ariana’s hand twitched weakly in Kristie’s grip.

“I know, I know it does,” Kristie choked out, tears streaming down her face. “We’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer.”

Maya’s voice cut through the tension. “Her rhythm’s worsening—V-tach,” she said sharply, her hand moving to adjust the defibrillator pads already attached to Ariana’s chest. “I’m prepping for a shock if it doesn’t stabilize.”

Kristie’s world tilted. “Shock? What do you mean? Maya—”

Maya placed a steadying hand on Kristie’s shoulder. “If her heart doesn’t stabilize, we might have to shock it back into rhythm. It’s scary, but it’s what she needs. I won’t let her crash on us.”

Ariana stirred again, her eyelids heavy as she looked at Maya, her voice barely audible. “Bishop... bossy... as always.”

Maya huffed out a short, relieved laugh, though her eyes stayed on the monitor. “And you’re a pain in the ass as always. Stay awake so you can keep sassing me, Ari.”

Kristie let out a shaky laugh, relief momentarily breaking through her panic. “You hear that? You’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Ariana’s lips curved into a faint, ghost of a smirk before her head lolled to the side again.

“Damn it,” Maya muttered. She glanced at the paramedic driving the ambulance. “How much longer?”

“Two minutes,” the Travis called back.

“Two minutes might as well be two hours,” Maya muttered under her breath. She checked Ariana’s pupils, frowning at the sluggish response. “If she hit her head in there, we’ll need neuro imaging. But right now, the arrhythmia is our top priority.”

Kristie’s breath caught. “You think she hit her head? Maya—”

“We don’t know for sure,” Maya interrupted gently. “But the smoke, the heat, the falling debris—anything’s possible. Carina’s meeting us at the hospital, okay? She’ll help explain everything. You’re not alone in this.”

Kristie nodded, though her heart felt like it might shatter. “You texted her?”

“She’ll be there for you,” Maya said. “You’re part of this family now, Kristie. We take care of our own.”

The ambulance hit a bump, jostling everyone inside. Ariana groaned softly, her eyes flickering open again. “This... sucks,” she whispered.

Kristie let out a tearful laugh, stroking Ariana’s cheek. “Yeah, it does. But you’re going to be fine. You hear me? You’ve got too much attitude to go anywhere.”

Maya grinned faintly, watching the monitor. “She’s stabilizing for now. Let’s hope it holds until we’re at Grey Sloan.”

As the ambulance pulled up to the hospital, the doors swung open, and the trauma team rushed to meet them. Maya climbed out first, barking orders as they transferred Ariana to a gurney.

Kristie hesitated, frozen in the moment, until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Carina, her face calm but filled with compassion.

“Kristie,” Carina said softly, her Italian accent grounding. “Come. Let them work. You can stay with me. We’ll stay close.”

Kristie nodded, allowing herself to be guided as her world spun around her. “She’s going to be okay, right?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Carina squeezed her shoulder, her voice steady and soothing. “She’s strong. And she has all of us. We won’t let her go without a fight.”

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt fanfic #station 19 x reader #station 19 fanfiction #station 19

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widowlyy · 1 day ago

Text

Thanks to you ⋅💕𓂃

analysis. Fury had sent your beloved girlfriend out on a mission for your first celebration on what to be thankful for after being gone from HYDRA. Staying at Yelena’s is something you usually enjoyed, but fearing you wouldn’t get to express how grateful you are, you can’t help but dig yourself into the familiar hole you found yourself when you first met Natasha.

pairing. Natasha Romanoff x Hybrid!Reader (r), Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova (r), Kate Bishop x Hybrid!Reader x Yelena Belova (p)

warnings. tooth rotting fluff, alluded to depression (if you squint hard enough), alluded to smut at the end (if you squint hard enough)

word count. 1.6k

authors note. happy thanksgiving! i should start working on my other works soon, but wanted to right a little short for one of my long term writings! yes, reader is a hybrid of a house cat and of a bigger cat, what one? lets find out soon..

𝜗𝜚

Silence had filled the air as you remained to hide yourself in the corner of the abandoned room you have noticed no one visited over the past week. The familiar smell of the redhead you had adored had been fading slowly over the long week was to come, you had hoped that some of the familiar smells of the redhead would linger in the home of her sister but yet it was a failure. The avenger you grew to adore and cling onto every second of the day wasn’t there to save you from the angry face Yelena wore when you lunged out and bit her hand, it was a mere accident and you hadn’t intended to hurt anyone. You were too overstimulated with the dogs barking and you couldn’t take the noise and being overcrowded, you had moved without thought as your sharp-pointed fangs had sunk into her hand and penetrated the skin on the widow’s hand. As soon as you tasted the familiar iron on your tongue you had pulled back and scrambled up onto your feet from your position on the floor to go hide in the room.

Kate had stopped Yelena from chasing after you, luckily, you didn’t know the type of temper she had. The first time you were brought back to the compound you had bit Tony and that had you in a muzzle for the first few weeks. Your jaw had been so sore you had a lack of appetite and you remember how the black widow would come and hand feed you which at first you hated. Her hands had to hold your soft cheeks and you disliked how you were held in place, as if a reminder of the experimentations and the needles that prodded your skin, but you didn’t know then that you’d be craving for her touch every second after that. Your heart was stammering against your chest, unable to calm down the beats as it felt like a ping pong ball bounced against your chest repeatedly. Your pupils had thinned to be akin to a thin diamond in your hues as you had tensed at every shadow that grew indicating the sun was falling and evening was bound to come. You thought Natasha was to come back today, you didn’t understand why she was sent out, especially with the upcoming holiday where you wanted to show her how thankful you were for her being there for you.

You had promised that you’d be fine, you really did. But you didn’t think you’d miss her this much, especially with how you’ve been falling into a dark hole with believing everything that goes wrong in this wretched house is your fault. A vase had shattered the second day you were here and you had no thoughts but to go try and pick up the glass shards with bare hands without a thought, it had immediately led to Kate with a worried state pull you back and call for Yelena to come sweep up the mess as the archer had gently brought you to the bathroom to clean up your hands. Gently applying silly toddler band-aids with teddy bears on them as she ensured to be careful to not agitate the cuts even more than they were. It had ended with the three of you on the couch watching movies all night long–halfway for you–and when the night was finished you were sleeping at the edge of the couch, your body lying against the arm rest as the left side of your cheek was squashed into the cushion. Then the little trinket Natasha gave you after your first month of dating you couldn’t find at all, and it left you in a state of panic and worry to have left you crying in the spare bedroom you were staying in. The two weren’t at home so you had the moment of peace to yourself as tears had wet into the pillowcase in your tears.

You were so lost in your mind that the familiar woodsy scent that had the tint of cinnamon with it entered the home, the front door had creaked open and you didn’t even think to go rushing down to the door to cling onto Natasha immediately.

The redhead downstairs had her eyes focus on the scene in the living room, Yelena had a bandaged hand that looked fresh as she noticed Kate holding that injured hand as the archer was pressed into the assassin’s side. A brow quirked and she knew immediately something wasn’t right so without announcing herself she continued on to go upstairs as the floor creaked, the agent’s eyes analyzed each door and noticed only one of them was shut.Taking that as the guess where you were hiding, usually you’d run up to her and bury your face into the crook of her neck and take in her scent as you littered wet kisses to her skin for your own comfort and with how you didn’t this time her heart panged and she worried.

Her hand had found the door handle and pressed down as the door hinges whined in protest as the door opened. Turning the light on as she scanned the room, and her eyes landed on you who was curled up in the corner that looked like a frightened kitten who was trying its best to self soothe with the wet cheeks that had her suspecting you were to cry.

You heaved silently to yourself until something blurred in your vision to indicate something moved in front of you, dazed eyes trying to think of who it was until you yanked yourself back but the figure didn’t allow it. The familiar hands took your cheeks, the callouses you remember and the soft shushing of the agent had you release a soft sob that left your chest as you had leaned forth and pressed yourself further into Natasha.

“Shhh, shhh, malysh, what’s wrong my beautiful girl?” The avengers voice had filled the room silently as she scooped you up to sit on her thighs as she guided your head into her neck. Concern had found her eyes as she frowned at the state you were in, lowering her head down as she pressed her lips to your hair and gave you multiple kisses. Her hands had squeezed you close, swaying you gently.

You had laid in the silence for minutes to calm your tears, nose pressing into the skin of her shoulder before turning your face to her neck as you pressed your lips against her skin. Soothing yourself even more as the heaving had stopped, eyes red and bloodshot as the silence had slowly began to fill with soft vibrations. The first time you had purred in front of the redhead is when she held you on the worn down mattress in your cell to prevent your back from being impaled with springs. That was a teasing you never escaped from afterwards after pleading for her to not share it with the other avengers. She had kept her promise, and you hadn’t been sleeping alone ever since. That’s what first led you both into the trust you had, she had snuck you out of your cell to reside in her room from now on.

“Bad week?” The soft accent of the redhead broke the silence, and you took in the softness of her words. The comfort she gave you that you were so desperate for when she was gone and all you did was simply nod against her body and she gently asked, “you want to talk about it?”

“No,” You meekly whispered, gently pulling your head back before you pulled your head back. Looking into her eyes, admiring the colorful hues that you stared into every chance you got. Her lips pressed against your nose, then your cheek, and gently pressed against your lips. She pulled back, noticing the familiar look in your eyes as she softly mused out, “Speak to me malysh, please,”

You softened at the soft plead, a grin had found your lips for the first time in the past week as a soft giggle left your throat. Pressing yourself into the redhead softly before musing out, “I’m just so grateful I have you as my girlfriend,”

Natasha felt her eyes soften at the words, her throat went dry as she tried to comprehend the feelings that just took her head, listening as you continued on, “I’m thankful that you and your buddies took me out of that horrid building, and how I bit Tony on the way there. I’m grateful you took care of me and I got to be with the most loving, gorgeous, badass assassin in the world,”

Tears swelled in the widows tear ducts, swallowing thickly before her hands cupped your face and pulled you in to press a deeper kiss to your lips. Her tongue gently brushed your lower lip, before teasing and pulling back, “And I’m thankful I have the most loving girl I can get malysh, especially with how cute you can be,”

You whined at the loss of her lips, and her words. Sniffling slightly as you tried to press your lips against the redheads again but you were met with her finger, the small decline from the avenger brought a pout to your lips.

“Not here, not now baby,” She assured, promising you another time later that wasn’t at her sister’s house and after she found you panicking by yourself. Humming out softly, “Let me bring my beautiful girl home so we can go see Liho and eat all the delicious meals we can get from this holiday, and then let me express how thankful I am for you, hm?”

You softened at her words, agreeing with a nod as you pressed your face into her neck again as she slowly stood up with you in her arms. Quietly humming out as she pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “Then let’s go home pretty girl, Liho must be starving for our attention,”

#widowlyy’s writing #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #sapphic #natasha romanoff fluff

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joyofsaudade · 2 years ago

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i like to do a very smart and not at all dumb thing in which i set my headphones down somewhere and immediately forget where i put them and then end up sneaking around my house at 1 in the morning trying not to wake anyone up bc i really want to listen to music before bed

#they were on the floor of my sisters room #you��d think i’d be more careful with the number of times i’ve lost them #however i’ve always gotten them back and that has only increased my hubris #it’s not just headphones either lmao #i found a necklace this morning that i’ve been missing for two weeks #and i was so sad about it bc it has a little diamond charm but the charm has cat ears and whiskers #and i love it sm #it was in my brothers room on his nightstand #looking back i definitely left them there #but they were literally right by his alarm clock #so i asked him ‘even if you didn’t hear me talking about my missing necklace #how did you not realize that it was mine??’#the other charm is literally rainbow #and i am the openly queer member of my mormon family #he was like idk i forgot about it #i forget he is a twelve year old boy sometimes but yeah that’s a very twelve year old boy thing to do

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jtl-fics · 2 years ago

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Fluent Freshman - Part 20

FF had watched more than a few self-defense videos when he believed that Andrew Minyard was looking for a dark alley to stab him in. He had learned how to turn the attacker’s momentum against them. Had learned about disarming the person trying to stab him.

He’d even had Matt teach him a few punches claiming that it was for the dust-ups that tended to happen on the court.

He, naturally, does not use any of that knowledge because his mind immediately reverts into Lizard panic mode the moment Jackson Plank takes another step forward with a knife (HUGE. Is it wild that he is thinking about Crocodile Dundee right now?)

“If you come quietly you won’t get hurt.” Jackson says and he reverts to who he is as a person and he freezes. His bravery was used up maybe it was only ever tied to great pump up songs and now in the silence of the alley he is back to being Stone-Faced Smith.

“You’re going to dial up Wesninski and if you don’t say EXACTLY what I tell you to then I’m going to have you SING in agony.”

Y’know in that moment he stops thinking about Crocodile Dundee.

He thinks about a movie that is far more ingrained in his mind than any number of self-defense videos or one-off lessons with Matthew Boyd where he’d been trying not to flinch. A movie he had watched in better days with his family and had been a favorite of his Grandma’s (and his).

He thinks about Miss Congeniality.

Sandra Bullock as Gracie Hart has taught him everything he ever truly needs to know when he takes a step back and Jackson comes at him.

He strikes right at Jackson’s nose with the palm of his hand.

“SON OF A-“

The knife is dropped and FF kicks it under a dumpster.

FF grabs the single weapon he has on his person.

The McDonald’s Megamind Happy Meal Light Effects Brainbot.

He points the LED light straight at Jackson’s eyes and just like Aaron in the car on the way back, “Shit, that’s bright!” And now completely blinded by a combination of watery eyes and LED McDonald’s toy he proceeds to SING just as Gracie Hart had taught him.

S - Solar Plexus. He punches Jackson there as hard as he can.

I - Instep. He smashes his booted foot down on the inside of Jackson’s shoes (who the fuck wears LOAFERS to a kidnapping?)

N - Nose. He’d feel bad about hitting it again if Jackson wasn’t y’know…a hitman out to hurt Captain Neil.

G - Groin. He may have to give himself just half a second to apologize to all of mankind for what he is about to do. His step brothers had definitely kicked him in the groin plenty of times to try and get a reaction. It’s an art to not let anyone know that your ball has retreated up into lower intestine. He kicks Jackson as hard as he can (collegiate athlete) with the boots that Nicky had let him borrow. He is right on target with the toe of his shoes.

Jackson goes down.

The next thing he does is not something Gracie Hart had taught him but does still feel like the right thing to do in this situation. He kicks Jackson in the head and the man goes limp.

If FF throws both hands up in the air and lets out a “I am Miss Congeniality!” Victory cry into the alleyway well no one is around or awake to know that.

He feels like he deserves a sash and a crown and some flowers.

He looks down at Jackson and then over at the van the man had hopped out of. He was definitely PLANNING on kidnapping Captain Neil so he probably has like…some kind of restraint?

Well, better to completely subdue this guy before he tries to figure out the game plan for Romero. Wait, what’s that next to the Crocodile Dundee knife, are those...?

***

Roland is calling for a second time.

Andrew had let it go to voicemail the first time. It was usually Roland complaining about Nicky, Aaron, or Kevin doing something exceptionally stupid in their inebriated states. They have a system. Roland will call and leave a voicemail detailing the dumb shit his family has gotten up to and then he’ll let it go.

If Roland calls twice then there’s an issue.

Arm still around Neil’s shoulders he answers the phone, “What.” He asks.

“You need to help your new friend. There’s some guy following him, he’s armed and dangerous and looking for someone to grab to get Neil’s attention. He tried to lead the guy outside but he’s standing watching it for now so there might have already been someone waiting?” Roland gets out in a rush and Andrew is up and moving towards the stairs even as he’s closing the phone to disconnect the call.

Neil, of course, is right on his heels. “What is it? Did something happen?” Neil asks and they are up the stairs and pushing past Frank and his stupid pineapple shirt. Andrew spots Nicky and he spots Aaron.

“Get Nicky and Aaron somewhere safe. I need to go help Smith with something.” He says because whoever this is wants Neil and Andrew will not let Neil get within grabbing distance and won’t mention it. Neil, blessedly, does what Andrew asks without question.

Andrew scans the crowd and finds a man whose gaze goes between his phone and the back door.

A face that Andrew had memorized.

One of Nathan’s surviving men.

In the same Zip Code as Neil.

And that man has the audacity to still be breathing.

He looks and Nicky and Aaron (drunk, drugged, and useless because Andrew had wanted them to be) are with Neil and Roland is directing them to the backroom.

Andrew goes out the alley and can feel Romero’s eyes on him.

He’s prepared for a lot of things to see out in that alley. He’s angry that FF hadn’t just come down and grabbed him and Neil (he does not need TWO martyrs) and he wants to know what the fuck FF was thinking (or if he was thinking at all). Even with that anger he does not wish to see FF’s blood spilled all over an alleyway because Andrew’s family needed to be protected and FF was the only one sober enough and aware enough to do it.

He knows what Nathan’s men are capable of.

Knows that Romero was one of Nathan’s best so if there is someone out in the alleyway then it’s likely one of his other bests.

FF doesn’t even know how to use a knife. He had asked and FF had firmly declined every time Andrew had brought it up after the first fainting incident. “I’m not interested in learning that. No.” Had been the standard response.

He knew FF had at least taken a lesson or two from Boyd on throwing a punch considering the one he shot out a week ago when a Striker came at him after the third time FF intercepted a pass.

Still, Andrew had not anticipated coming out into the alleyway and finding an unharmed FF securing an unconscious Jackson Plank’s arms behind his back with fuzzy handcuffs.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks and FF looks up at him with a flush on his cheeks.

“It’s not my fault this is a weird sex alleyway! They’re the first thing I found on my way over to the van to look for actual restraints.” FF says immediately and Andrew almost laughs at the insanity of it. “Wait, where’s Captain Neil?” FF looks around nervously.

“He’s with Aaron and Nicky in the backroom. Roland gave me your S.O.S.” Andrew says even as he quickly makes his way away from the door and towards FF. “Romero is watching the door. Let’s give him a reason to come out.” He says going over to Jackson and when he rolls the man over he raises an eyebrow at the piss stain on his pants and the blood dripping down his nose.

He looks to FF who resolutely does not look back at him.

It’s a story he’ll get out of his friend eventually. Looks like FF didn’t really need those knife lessons. Something settles a bit more in Andrew, it’s nice to have someone else in their group that could handle themselves in a fight.

Andrew finds a phone and FF rolls Jackson back onto his stomach, “He could choke on his own blood.” He shrugs and Andrew wouldn’t care if Jackson choked on his own blood in fuzzy handcuffs in a back alley but he can understand FF not wanting a murder charge.

Andrew looks at the phone and sees the the swipe pattern clear as day. It takes him two tries to get the order right but then Jackson’s phone is available for him to get over to the texting app.

The texts he reads there make him angry. There were a lot of plans on what the two of them were going to do to Neil before his body was offered up to a different crime family to show that Romero and Jackson had no loyalty left to the Wesninski line.

He types out a text to Romero that will have the jackass come out thinking everything had gone well and they had two hostages. He looks over to FF, “You ready for round two?” He asks.

“There isn’t a tap out option right?” FF asks and Andrew laughs at the joke.

Always cool under pressure it seems.

“No.”

“Then yeah, I guess just hit send.” FF says with a shrug.

Andrew does just that.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Didn’t wanna leave ya’ll hanging on that particular cliffhanger for too long ;)

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#Fluent Freshman AU #I would like to thank Sandra Bullock's performance for allowing me to write the stupidest fight scene ever #I would also like to thank my sister for getting engaged on April 25th so Miss Congeniality was floating around in the noggin already #Andrew: Smith is really cool under pressure. He can make jokes at a time like this.#FF: What if no one believes me that I found these handcuffs in the alley?#He's too focused on the embarrassment of using those handcuffs to focus on the fact that round 2 is about to happen #Did my 'research' involve finding out EXACTLY what McDonald's happy meal toys were being offered November 2010 #Perhaps #The internet really does just have like a whole shitload of people who will just have a database of seemingly useless knowledge #I love those people #Neil may be pacing up a storm in the back room but Keeping Nicky away from the dance floor is a full time job #For ONCE Aaron is the easy one to deal with #Roland just gave him a virgin drink and he's happy #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #AFTG Fic #My Fics #It's shorter because I didn't wanna leave ya'll hanging #FF - Pt. 20

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