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bunny-yan · 1 year

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Is it okay if you make part 2 of the Yan priest with soldier reader? I really like that one so much

TW: death, violence, general yandere themes, minors DNI

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The head priest knew there would be many challenges when he was sent to the battlefront, but an unplanned trek through the forest wasn’t one of them.

He swept a handkerchief over his brow, unsure why he didn’t think to wear lighter clothes instead of his heavy robes, but then again he didn’t think the two of you would still be walking after thirty minutes.

“Is it really necessary to travel so far out?”

“Sorry,” you said, glancing back at the priest and thanking the heavens that he was in shape. You had slowed your pace, but he was able to keep up so you felt pretty confident that the two of you could make it to your secret spot. “We’re almost there. Just a little further.”

The priest bit his tongue, holding back a grumble but he couldn’t help the curse that began to slip out of his mouth when his foot caught on a loose root.

Your hand caught his flailing one as you wrapped a hand around his waist to steady him.

Pulling him up, his eyes widened when you looked into his with concern. “Are you okay?”

He nodded without a word, clearing his throat when you let him go. Readjusting his glasses, he said, “Yes, thank you.”

He frowned, thinking that maybe he was complaining a little bit too much considering he was the one to recommend that you get a bit of sunlight.

The head priest was a bit surprised when you invited him out on a picnic, but you insisted that you wanted to find a way to thank him for taking such good care of you. His initial thought was to decline the offer, knowing it wasn’t appropriate for someone in his position to be off gallivanting during a war, but when you grasped his hands in yours and pleaded he supposed a small break wouldn’t hurt anything.

The grin you wore was etched into his mind and he thought of it as he rubbed at his side, the warmth from your arm having seeped through.

“We’re here!”

He looked up and if you weren’t looking for his reaction you might’ve missed the slight rise of his brow at the sight of a field of flowers.

“Isn’t it amazing? I found it during one of my patrols and whenever things get a little overwhelming I like to come back just to sit for a little while.”

The head priest knew he shouldn’t have been surprised at this point. It was just like you to discover beauty in the midst of ongoing tragedy, but you continued to defy his expectations. He felt something uncomfortable tug at his heart, deciding to ignore it as you led him a little farther into the field before laying a blanket down along with the large picnic basket you’d carried with you.

“I’m glad the weather is nice today. I was a little worried it’d rain like it did last week but we lucked out!”

He nodded, feeling a little out of place as he took his seat on the blanket, feeling his nose itch.

It was a bad time to mention he was sensitive to pollen.

Feeling his power thrum alive to offset the symptoms, he attempted a smile.

“You chose the perfect time.”

It was strange. He’d only just registered that a war was being fought in the spring. It wasn’t the first thing he thought to think of considering the bombs the enemies sent their way decimated ground and soldier alike. There was no time to stop and think about what was. The reality of the situation clouded any light that hoped to seep through. It was hard to even believe it existed when constantly assaulted by the stench of blood and fear that permeated the medical tent.

It only reminded him of your first encounter.

“You seemed pretty close to the solider you brought in that day you visited medical. Phelps?”

You didn’t bother wondering how the head priest knew the things he did. You assumed he had a record of all of the patients that came into his care, so it wasn’t weird that he knew.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend.”

“Really?”

“We grew up together, actually.”

It wasn’t hard to believe. You acted as if it was your own life on the line when you arrived at the tent. He still remembered the way your voice sounded, desperate and broken as you begged for someone to help your comrade. You looked lifeless as you watched the priests surround her motionless body. Seeing you now was like night and day.

You looked alive, happy that you got some time away from the cot the head priest refused to let you leave, and a lot more relaxed than the tense ball of nerves you were reduced to during the time you were experiencing crippling pain.

He didn’t know when he’d realized it, but he found himself enjoying the easygoing smile despite the underlying feelings of animosity when they were directed towards any of the other priests. He’d leave his office to do a general check, ascertain whether the other priests were handling the immense load that constantly rested on their shoulders and his day was elevated with a quick glance in your direction. You’d be sitting on the cot, relaxing or reading a book, sometimes talking to the other patients or priests and he couldn’t help but feel as if something settled in his heart.

When he’d come to check on your condition, he knew he couldn’t linger for long because your smile was blinding in his eyes. His eyes would narrow, making you mistakenly assume that you had done something to gain his ire when he was simply hiding his embarrassment.

Thinking of it now brought on new feelings of embarrassment, and he cleared his throat to cover the ridiculous expression on his face.

“Do you have family waiting for you back home?” he asked, thinking it best to change the conversation before he thought about doing something he was sure to regret about that best friend of yours.

“I do! I have eight brothers and sisters.”

Of course the head priest already knew, but he felt it best to hear it directly from you. He could learn as much as he could about you, but it wouldn’t close the gaping distance between the two of you. It was already difficult enough considering the doctor-patient relationship the two of you had.

“Did you join to get some distance from them?” The priest couldn’t imagine existing with younger children. He’d spent enough time with others at the orphanage run by the church and he knew for certain that it was never a position he’d want to be in again.

“Oh,” you began, pausing as you thought about what to say. When your silence lasted for longer than a brief moment, the priest was afraid that maybe he’d made a mistake. His fears were alleviated when you laughed.

“Sure, it’s nice to have a bit of distance from my siblings but if I’m being completely honest I’m sending the pay I receive back to them.”

It was just like you.

“We lost our dad to the last war and so my mom was left raising me and my siblings on her own and I wanted to help support her. She actually begged me not to go.” You looked a little listless as you opened up about your reason for joining. It wasn’t hard to understand where your mother was coming from. Thoughts of losing you the same way she lost her husband were sure to be the only thing on her mind.

“What a horrible child.”

You gaped at the head priest, laughing after a moment when it was clear that he was joking. You weren’t sure he was capable of telling a joke, but listening to him now, you felt warmth enter your body.

“Yeah, maybe I am.”

The head priest sniffed, looking off to the side as he was a bit uncomfortable with how emotionally charged the conversation was.

“Have you ever thought about joining the church?”

You looked surprised by his words, but he thought it was the perfect time to bring it up.

“Unlike being a soldier, your days would consist of receiving offerings, prayer, maintenance and general upkeep of the church. You’d also receive a better salary than you’re getting now.”

That last point wasn’t completely true. Altar boys and the like generally received housing and that was it, but he was more than willing to cut his check short if it meant keeping you by his side.

He knew his plan succeeded when you appeared to actually consider his offer.

“I never gave it much thought, but that seems like something my mom would prefer.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about getting acclimated. I would have you shadow me for the duration of your training and you could join as my personal assistant.”

You would receive no better offer and if this wasn’t enough, he would think of the ways he could sweeten the deal for you.

“Thank you.” you said, smiling at the head priest. It was the sincerity in your voice that caught his attention.

When you came forward suddenly, the priest’s eyes widened when he suddenly found himself toppling over with you on top of him.

You didn’t seem like the type to pounce on someone and he didn’t see the mood heading in that direction at all.

His face erupted in a blush as he spluttered, feeling caught off guard for the first time in his life. He tried to question what you were doing, but froze at the look of pain that contorted your face.

Looking to the side, he’d finally noticed it.

An arrow was protruding from your shoulder. It was not a shallow wound.

“We need to get that treated.” he said, worry dripping from his tone as he pushed to get up.

Pushing him back down, you placed a finger over your lps.

You were certain that whoever attacked was acting on their own. It was most likely a scout that saw this as an easy opportunity to get rid of the Golden Priest. You were grateful that you’d noticed the glint before he loosed the arrow. You were clearly at fault. You had put your benefactor in harm’s way, but you were going to do you best to make sure he survived this.

Considering the direction the arrow came from, your assailant wouldn’t be able to see the two of you if you stayed close to the ground.

The priest watched you, studying the look of intense concentration that fought through the pain you were sure to be feeling.

You knew your assumption was correct when you heard rustling. Slowly reaching for one of the cutting knives, you felt yourself tense in anticipation. Your cover was going to blown soon so you had to act fast.

When the steps sounded dangerously close, you stayed low, launching yourself in the direction of the enemy.

The priest sat up quickly, looking at you struggle with the scout that made an attempt on his life and when you gained the upper hand, he felt he saw you in a different light as he watched you drag the blade across the man’s neck.

“We need to go.” you said, slightly out of breath and thankful that he offered assistance to help you up.

It was a shame that you hadn’t gotten to fully enjoy the picnic that you planned for the two of you, but your new wound was ana amazing excuse for you to remain in medical. He was trying to figure out a way to keep you around and this incident had to have been the Mother answering his prayers.

You’d taken an arrow meant for him. He couldn’t think of anyone who’d be willing to put themselves in harm way from a cold bastard like himself.

If the priest was interested in you before, he was obsessed now.

One way or another, you were going to come to his side.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere priest #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere male #yanderea asks #asks answered #orphan priest

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fallinashes · 11 months

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Hey bestie ashy washy 😭🫶🏿🫶🏿

Could we please get some tfa and tfp megatron with an s/o that says the most out of pocket shit? Just..her intrusive thoughts get the better of her 😭

I had my sister in mind writing this cause she says the most random shit so I used some of the things she recently said to me 😭 (I also did just Tfp megatron I hope you don’t mind 😭🙌)

Sorry it’s short my brain cannot cooperate to write long stuff 🥲

TFP MEGATRON X FEM!READER

Megatron stood tall and imposing, his crimson optics scanning the battlefield as he calculated his next move. His mind focused on the ongoing war against the Autobots, when suddenly his girlfriend, the reader, approached him.

"Hey, Megatron! Did you know that carrots used to be purple? I mean, purple! Who would've thought?"

Megatron paused, his expression shifting from intense concentration to one of mild confusion. He stared at the reader, momentarily taken aback by her remark.

"That... is an interesting tidbit, my dear. However, we are in the midst of a critical battle. Perhaps now isn't the best time for carrot trivia.”

"Oh, right! Sorry, Megatron. I just thought you might find it amusing. Like, who needs purple carrots, right?"

Megatron sighed, trying to suppress a small smile. Despite the gravity of their situation, he couldn't help but appreciate the reader's unique ability to inject random, lighthearted moments into the most serious times.

"You never fail to surprise me, my dear. Your random musings bring unexpected levity to my existence. Now, let us focus on defeating our adversaries."

“Absolutely, Megatron! But hey, have you ever wondered why they call it a 'building' when it's already built? Deep thoughts, huh?"

Megatron shook his head slightly, a mix of exasperation and amusement evident in his optics. With a small chuckle escaping his vocalizer, he turned his attention back to the battlefield, ready to lead the Decepticons to victory once more.

In the midst of war and chaos, Megatron found solace in the presence of his girlfriend, whose eccentric randomness provided a brief respite from the weight of their world. Together, they faced their enemies with determination, always cherishing the moments of whimsy that emerged unexpectedly along the way.

LMK IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES

#transformers x reader #tfp #tfp megatron #megatron #megatron x reader #megatron x fem reader #Tfp megatron x reader

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pufferfishstories · 1 year

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Knives and Feathers.

FANTASY HAWKS AU

Y’all don’t mind me just living out my ballroom, enemies to lovers with the one and only bird boy.

Hawks x FemReader

SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!!

Warnings: knives, smut, or@l (reader receiving), d0m hawks,

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Your corseted gown clung tightly to your skin accenting your curves perfectly. You had watched yourself in the mirror as maids fussed over your hair and make up. You sat quietly, making sure to keep an expression of Naive awe on your face.

You were playing the part of an innocent farm girl afterall. Poor helpless little orphan girl, a victim of ongoing war. Although the orphan part was definitely true, helpless was quite the opposite of who you were.

You’d been at the palace for 8 months now, playing the part of the helpless damsel King Touya had saved on one of his royal escapades.

Little did his majesty know you were here on strict business, business that definitely depended on his swift death. A death that would be delivered at the close of tonight’s ball.

“You’re all ready Miss Y/N” a soft voice came from the maid as she stepped back to observe you smiling. “You look very beautiful my lady, no one will be able to take their eyes off of you!” she spoke giving your shoulder a squeeze of reassurance.

You should have felt bad, this woman had cared for you since you had arrived, but you were too busy bubbling with excitement. Tonight was the night you finally killed the King. Giving your country the upper hand in the war.

You meekly smiled at the woman thanking her, before curtsying awkwardly and making your way towards the ballroom.

Your dress flowed behind you as you walked, deep crimson silk wrapping around your body, with a high slit riding up your left leg. The corset layered with undetectable blades, another dagger strapped to your right thigh, hidden in the folds of material.

You quickly pushed the poisoned hair pin into the folds of hair masterfully pulled together by the maid. And finally your look was completed with the necklace you had worn everyday since arriving, a necklace with a tiny vial of poison concealed within it, it’s purpose to kill instantly should the wearer be caught...

You pushed aside the thought. You were going to succeed. You practically had the King wrapped around your finger, over the time you had been here he had taken every opportunity to spend time with you.

And you had made sure to blush and giggle at all the right times. To gently brush your hand against his at all the right times.

And sure enough, as you shyly entered the ball room, there King Touya was standing next to his father and his eyes drinking the sight of you in.

You smiled softly at him.

Your plan tonight was simple. Wait for everyone to be drunk enough that you could draw the Prince away without anyone batting an eye.

For now your job was to keep the Prince’s attention on you. Carefully you began to make your way across the ballroom, flashing shy smiles towards the Prince the entire time.

Just as you were mere metres away from him a deep smooth voice came from behind you

“My my aren’t you an eager little thing”

You held back the need to groan in irritation, spinning around tentatively your eyes met a pair of intelligent golden ones staring down at you.

His large red wings were folded neatly behind his back, he wore a loose black shirt revealing too much of his muscled chest, tucked into his black dress pants.

Hawks pushed a hand through his hair as he looked at you expectantly.

The real you wanted to tell him to fuck right off and let you do your job, but you weren’t playing the real you, so instead you said

“I- what do you mean... Lord Hawks?”

You stumbled over your words, quickly putting on your perfected mask of innocence.

He seemed to be somewhat annoyed by your change in manner, as if he had noticed the brief flash of annoyance cross your features.

“I think you know exactly what I mean” he spoke the words as if they had a double meaning.

He concerned you, he was different to everyone else here. More alert, untrusting. He had never quite let you get any information from him in the time you have been here. It was as if he was simply waiting for you to show your true colours.

Everytime you had the opportunity to get close enough to the King he would appear just in time to save the day.

He wouldn’t break. But neither would you.

And tonight would be different.

Tonight everything would line up. Hawks was the official right hand to the King, which would be concerning except for the fact that it meant he was to be leaving early from the celebration in order to attend to a royal meeting in His Majesties stead.

It was perfect. Once the too well spoken bird man was gone, you were free to do what needed to be done.

“I- was just going to thank His Majesty for the invitation to attend tonight’s event, I- I’ve never been to something like this” you spoke gingerly, while simultaneously cursing his existence in your mind.

Hawks seemed to think about your answer for a moment, finally he spoke

“Well then you’ve got me to thank darling, it was I who invited you”

Taken aback for a second you stared at him suspiciously, your mind whirred thinking through possible reasons for his invitation

“You should know that when you think too hard you drop your little farm girl act” He spoke pointedly, the smirk returning to his roguish features.

Before you could respond your waist was pulled against his.

“Dance with me will you farm girl” which was hardly a question as he began to pull you more than guide you in a waltz.

“You see you’re very hard to read, Y/N if that’s even your name. So tell me, why are you here?” Hawks had leaned in close to your ear, to anyone else it would simply look like the pair of you were engaged in a relatively scandalous rendition of a dance.

But you were feeling a snake of dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach. You knew he was suspicious of you, but he said himself he couldn’t read you. Maybe you could still manipulate his suspicions.

“Maybe I am just after protection, and believe what you want, but I really am just an ordinary farm girl” you spoke quickly.

“Hm a rather pathetic lie, but I respect it” he responded coolly.

As the sultry music changed in tempo Hawks pushed his hand against your back, his fingers digging into where one of the blades were placed against the boning of your dress.

You almost whimpered at the uncomfortable pain now digging into your back. But you weren’t going to back down. You met his eyes, “accidentally” tugging on some of his feathers as he spun you gracefully away from him.

You heard his breath catch, and his confident collected front falter for a second. Happy with yourself for causing him a bit of pain, you continued dancing, pressing your body against his. To your surprise he seemed to have dropped the conversation.

Finally, at the close of the song he bowed low, but not before taking your hand and speaking in a low tone “If I find out you’re intent on anything other than getting in His Majesties pants for his money. I will make you wish you were dead”

“My lady” he smirked before turning sharply on his heel and walking away. Leaving you there to gawk at him.

Recollecting your thoughts, you decided that it didn’t matter what he did to you after you’d found the king, so long as the King died. You knew this mission was suicide. And being killed by the hot bird man might not be the worst way to go. Taking a quick breath you finally made your way towards the King.

You spent the rest of the night *pretending* to drink goblets of wine. Giggling loudly at the Touya’s jokes, drunkenly leaning your head on his shoulder.

Finally, the time of the night arrived where everyone seemed to be swaying. The music slightly out of tune, everyone danced and laughed spilling their drinks and kissing strangers.

It was time. The bird was nowhere to be seen, you had watched him leave hours ago.

You quickly started to stand up, consciously wobbling your legs and leaning on the King.

“Oh I better get to bed” you hiccuped

Laughing softly King Touya gently grabbed your hand

“I will have someone help you to your room” he said kindly

“Noooooo, I want youuuu” you protested, wrapping your arm around his

You knew he couldn’t afford to be seen leaving with a woman, especially not one of such a low status. But you also knew he wouldn’t refuse you. And so he did exactly what you wanted him to.

“Okay Y/N you know the drill. Go wait outside and I will meet up with you shortly to escort you to your room" he whispered to you

You did know this, the pair of you had done it many times.

Nodding happily you had wandered outside. Your heart pounding with how close you were to success.

Typically, the King would follow you after around 10 minutes or so. And so you melted back into the shadows on the corridor behind the ballroom.

You stood there for what felt like forever when you heard footsteps on the cobblestoned floor. Just as you were about to come out from the corner a strong hand covered your mouth and pushed you up against the wall.

Almost instinctively you reach up and pull out your poisoned hair blade. Only for your wrist to be caught and crushed up against the wall.

“Interesting, I knew I wasn’t wrong about you” the smooth voice evenly assessed.

Panicked you look up once again meeting the eyes of the winged Lord. It was Hawks. His eyes now trained on the miniature blade in your hand.

Cursing to yourself you tried to shrink back, and look scared, anything to scramble your character back together.

You felt his hand trail up your thigh, stopping at the blade secured there. Quickly pulling the blade from you he held it up to your neck.

“You know little bird, these are some pretty intense blades for a little farm girl”. He had now removed his hand from your mouth, keeping the cold silvered blade pressing against your neck, and his other arm still pinning your wrist above your head.

“Let me go.” You spoke dangerously. Barely breathing against the blade. Your wrist pulsing with pain.

“See I would if you were the little farm girl you pretend to be, but unfortunately my little sneaky bird. You’re not”

He smiled and tightened his grip on your wrist, causing you to gasp and drop the poisoned blade.

“Now you’re going to be a good girl, be quiet and do what I say”.

He pushed you into the nearest room closing the door quickly behind you. Your knife not wavering from your neck.

Finally you were returned to your position against a wall. Hawks’ body pressed right against yours.

“So, are you going to tell me who you really are little bird?” He spoke sharply into your ear.

You only glare at him in response.

“Hm well, that is unfortunate” he mused inspecting you

“You know I could kill you” He spoke finally,

Panicking you almost blindly reach out grabbing onto his wing. Suddenly his breathing shifts. His normal collected demeanour changes to a dark unpredictable aura circling around him.

His eyes darken as he releases a breath.

“You shouldn’t have done that” he spoke darkly

Suddenly the blade was discarded and his hand was around your neck.

Finally looking at his face you see he’s flushed, his chest rising up and down, breathing hard. You suddenly realise your hand is still entangled within his feathers, almost unintentionally you trail your fingers down his feathers, almost entranced by them. You’d always wanted to touch his wings. But never truly dared.

His breathing caught again, as he watched your hand.

“Are you trying to make me fuck you little bird?” He spat out pressing his body even closer to you now.

Taken aback it suddenly all makes sense. His reaction to you touching his wings. Now you can see a way out of this, and a way you’re certainly not complaining about.

Smiling you raise your other hand, entangling it within his feathers carefully massaging your fingers through his roots. His eyes fluttered for a second. Before smashing his lips against yours.

You moan, welcoming his tongue against your own, he lifts you up as you wrap your legs around his waist.

His lips move down your neck, planting kisses and bites along your neck. He keeps moving downwards kissing and biting along your exposed collarbone.

“Do tell me little bird of mine, why are you still wearing this” He spoke glaring at your corset

“A knife in the seam of my dress” you panted out breathlessly, your body pulsing

“Ah aren’t you just a clever little assassin” He breathed smirking, whilst feeling for your blade, after finding it he quickly sliced up the middle of your dress, exposing your now bare chest. “I hate you” you whispered breathily.

“Doubtful” he responded, then without giving you so much as a second to think his mouth was on you, sucking, kissing and biting causing you to let out small gasps and moans at his torture.

His hands slowly trail their way down your body, before his hand makes its way into your lace undergarments. He begins to run slow circles on your most sensitive spot, letting out a quiet growl of pleasure as you let out another moan.

“Shit” you think to yourself, “so much for getting myself out of this”.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Hawks abruptly pulls you away from the wall, lifting and almost throwing you on the bed, eyes widening you watch him stalk towards you, like some sort of crazed predator. You’ve half the mind to reach for one of your daggers only to remember it lay on the cold stone ground now meters away from you.

“You have no idea what seeing the real side of you does to me” he spoke breathily, his muscled chest rising and falling now almost completely exposed after your pulling at his lose shirt. As you watched him through your lashes you felt a pulse of heat radiating in the pit of your stomach and your sex.

Without warning he knelt in front of you, spreading your legs apart before getting your panties in his mouth and pulling them down leaving you completely exposed. You knew you were getting wetter by the second. Suddenly his mouth was on you, devouring and teasing you, his tongue worked it’s way around your clit, Hawks pushed a finger in you and then another, eliciting multiple unholy noises from your mouth. Finally when you felt an explosion building up inside of you from the torture he stopped.

Almost whimpering from the sudden loss of ecstasy your eyes snapped open to find him, embarrassingly your hips tried to follow his hands.

Chuckling darkly he spoke again.

“You know little farmer girl, I want the king dead too”

Now this was the last thing you’d expected to hear. Shocked you look up meeting his now lust filled eyes.

“He’s a villain to my country” Hawks continued matter of factly.

You stayed quiet waiting for him to elaborate.

“So you’re going to have to be a good girl and be patient, I’m afraid I can’t have you killing him before I’m ready”

Still breathing heavily from his treatment you tried to process what he was saying.

“So” he spoke, “in exchange for you holding off killing him, I promise to keep you” he knelt again, lazily rubbing circles into your clit again “very entertained” his voice dripped like honey, and your eyes were rolling back as the fire built up inside you again.

“So Y/N do we have a deal?” He spoke as you continued to moan.

“Yes” you finally said “oh god yes” as your orgasm finally reached you.

Chuckling darkly his wings unfurled stretching far beyond the length of the bed frame, he finally replied

“Good.”

#hawks x y/n #hawks smut #fantasy au #hawks fanfic #fem reader #hawks x female reader #dom hawks #sub reader #touya todoroki #bnha headcanons #my hero academia #choking #enemies to lovers #wing kink #bnha dabi #bnha hawks #smut

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fanficapologist · 5 months

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Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

“No. No, that cannot be right.”

As the news of her pregnancy sank in, Maera's initial shock gave way to a sense of denial, almost as if she were trying to resist the reality of the situation. Uncertainty clouded her features, and her mind raced with conflicting emotions. The ongoing war cast a dark shadow over her thoughts, and the unsettling prophecies of Helaena added an additional layer of worry.

The specter of death in childbirth loomed large, a heavy concern that intertwined with the complexities of the world around her. In the midst of this emotional whirlwind, Maera found herself grappling with the profound implications of bringing a child into such turbulent times.

The maester maintained his composure and explained, “I am quite certain, Princess. The babe will likely arrive in seven moons.”

Maera, still grappling with the revelation, attempted to find reason. “But what about the bleeding?” she asked, standing up from the bed.

Maester Orwyle reassured her, “Sometimes, when a babe is forming in the womb and nestles into its place, it can cause some bleeding. It is usually nothing to worry about, but I will monitor it closely to ensure your health and the babe’s.”

Despite the Maester's reassurance, Maera found her mind continuing to race with anxious thoughts. As she rose from the examination bed, she couldn't help but pick at the golden and sapphire ring on her left hand, something precious that Aemond had previously gifted her.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Maera took in the image reflected back at her. Her hair, dark brown with the distinctive silver streak, was braided and adorned with a golden headpiece. Widened green eyes stared back, framed by the mourning attire she wore—a black dress with embroidered golden dragons on the collar. She contemplated how her body might change as the pregnancy developed, adding another layer to the uncertainty that had taken hold.

A sobering thought crossed Maera's mind as she processed the news of her pregnancy. While the birth of a new child into House Targaryen would typically be celebrated as a blessing, the recent tragedies weighed heavily on her. The brutal murder of four-year-old Jaehaerys and Helaena's heartbreaking loss had cast a somber pallor over the household. In the wake of such sorrow, Maera couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time for the joyous news of a new life to be shared. The timing seemed almost cruel against the backdrop of recent events, adding a layer of complexity to the emotions surrounding the revelation.

Turning to the maester, Maera expressed, "Tomorrow is Jaehaerys' funeral, and news of a new baby would be a massive blow to the Queen. Can I count on your discretion until at least after the funeral?"

The maester nodded understandingly and replied, "You have my word, Princess. However, you should consider informing your husband as soon as possible." Maera nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the wisdom in involving Aemond before anyone else. The weight of both grief and unexpected joy pressed upon her as she contemplated the delicate balance she needed to maintain during such trying times.

After leaving the Maester's rooms, Maera chose to avoid her own chambers, finding solace in the temporary refuge of denial. Facing Aemond would mean confronting the reality of the pregnancy, a reality she wished to postpone just a little while longer. Instead, she sought out Helaena's chambers, longing for the comfort of her friend's presence. However, her attempt to enter was thwarted by the vigilant guards, denying her access as Helaena was still not accepting visitors. Desperation to see her friend warred with the understanding that Helaena's mind remained deeply troubled, leaving Maera caught between a longing for connection and the harsh reality of the present.

Attempting to seek comfort in another manner, Maera hesitated to face the Grand Sept, haunted by the painful reminders of little Jaehaerys and Helaena's unborn child. Opting for a more intimate space, she made her way to the smaller Royal Sept, situated across the courtyard from the stables. In contrast to the grandeur of the main Sept, this smaller place of worship exuded a humble tranquility. Marble altars dedicated to each of the Seven Gods adorned the space, enveloped in the comforting scent of incense and the flickering glow of numerous candles. Kneeling before a small statue of the Mother, Maera sought solace in prayer as her mind began reeling with troubling and worrying thoughts.

Closing her verdant eyes, Maera pleaded for guidance and mercy as she grappled with the unexpected news. In the sacred silence of the Royal Sept, her thoughts unraveled like fragile threads. The looming prospect and expectation of delivering a son to further the Targaryen legacy, felt like an unspoken demand echoing through the corridors of her thoughts.

Her body, once a vessel of her own, now became a subject of scrutiny, a canvas on which the eyes of the court would fixate and criticise. In the hallowed silence, Maera’s thoughts involuntarily turned to the woman whose memory lingered as both a beacon and a phantom—her mother, Lady Gael. In the solitude of prayer, Maera silently wondered how Lady Gael navigated the complexities of carrying an heir. Her mother had weathered the trials of three pregnancies, the final one claiming her life. The untold tales of Lady Gael's experiences, the joys, and perhaps the fears, now hung in the air like a sacred whisper.

“Maera?” A voice echoed in the sacred space. Turning slowly, she found herself facing her mother-in-law, the Dowager Queen.

Alicent, clad in black mourning attire adorned with deep green detailing, stood before Maera with a demeanor of surprise. Her auburn hair was meticulously pinned atop her head, veiled as if to shield her grief. Brown eyes widened as they met Maera's, forming a silent connection in the quiet expanse of the sept.

As Maera rose from her prayer, the weight of her recent news settled heavily on her shoulders. Without conscious thought, she moved swiftly toward Alicent, her steps a mixture of fear and confusion. Abruptly reaching out, Maera initiated a desperate hug, as if seeking refuge from the storm of emotions within.

In that moment, vulnerability painted across Maera's face, she didn't disclose the cause of her turmoil. Alicent, perceptive to the unspoken distress, responded after a moment with a tender embrace. Though it wasn't the exact solace Maera had yearned for, the warmth of Alicent's arms provided a lifeline through the turbulent sea of emotions that defined the remainder of that challenging day.

After another prayer shared with Alicent and a brief apology for her emotional outburst, Maera resorted to yet another tactic of evasion. Seeking refuge in her father's quarters, she requested to dine with him, a request Lord Jasper willingly granted.

As they sat at the dining table, Maera played with the food on her plate using her fork, her gaze fixed on her father. She abstained from consuming a single mouthful, her mind preoccupied. Lord Jasper, with his distinguished appearance—dark hair and piercing grey-green eyes—engaged in lively discourse about his duties as the Master of Laws. Despite his animated prattle, Maera's attention wavered, consumed by thoughts she struggled to voice.

Observing Maera's distracted demeanor, Lord Jasper tactfully shifted the conversation, taking a mouthful of potatoes before saying, “You know, I have received a number of letters from our House via raven over the last few weeks.”

This piqued Maera’s interest, and she looked up from her plate. “What news do they bring?” she inquired.

Lord Jasper, sensing her need for a lighter topic, smiled and replied, “Well, your eldest brother, Guston, wrote. Seems his new baby girl is thriving. He also mentioned that he is completely wrapped around her little finger.”

A chuckle escaped Maera’s lips. “Really? I thought Guston wanted another son.”

Lord Jasper nodded, sipping his wine. “Indeed, he did. But you know how it goes. Daughters have a way with their fathers when they’re tiny and cute.”

As Lord Jasper shared more family news, Maera sipped chamomile tea from a nearby cup, absorbing the updates. Her father mentioned, "Cedric has been officially invited to the Citadel to train as a Maester."

A bright smile lit up Maera's face. "That's wonderful news, Father. I am sure he'll make us proud."

Lord Jasper nodded, expressing gratitude to the Gods. "Yes, thank the Gods. It is a way for him to honor House Wylde. I had low hopes for him with his quiet nature, but this opportunity is a blessing."

Sensing her father's veiled criticism, Maera cleared her throat, silently conveying her disapproval of bashing her brother. Lord Jasper, understanding the unspoken message, shifted the conversation. Taking a sip of his wine, he continued, "Dermot sent his congratulations for your wedding and expressed concerns about the war with Princess Rhaenyra. He stated if he could offer aid, he would, but I am unsure how he would plan on doing that." Maera nodded, a hint of discomfort crossing her features at the mention of the impending war.

Lord Jasper, picking up on the pause, smoothly transitioned to a more neutral topic, “And it seems our family to be blessed with more weddings very soon.”

“Oh?” Maera replied intriguingly, leaning in, prompting Lord Jasper to reveal further news.

“Gwyn is now betrothed to the younger sister of Lord Edwin of Tarth.” Maera cocked her head, absorbing the information. Lord Jasper elaborated, “It’s a strategic match, further allying Tarth to the Greens cause.”

Nodding in understanding, Maera encouraged him to continue. Lord Jasper revealed, “Luthor has now been matched with Lady Cassandra of House Baratheon. He will soon depart from Rain House to wed her and will remain at Storm’s End during his marriage.”

A smile played on Maera’s lips. “I hope Luthor finds happiness in his match to her,” she remarked, genuinely wishing well for her older brother.

Lord Jasper continued, "Happy or not, Luthor will do his duty, and produce as many heirs as possible."

The mention of heirs rekindled nerves within Maera, a silent reminder of her own pregnancy. Lost in her thoughts, she went quiet, unknowingly prompting her father to share more. Lord Jasper revealed, "Lord Borros still lacks an heir. If Luthor and Lady Cassandra were to produce a boy, the child could be named Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Maera, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, stood abruptly, the sound of cutlery jingling as she knocked against the wooden table. Lord Jasper, concerned, asked, "Are you well, daughter?"

Claiming to have lost track of time, Maera stated, "I should return to my chambers." With a polite bid for a good night, she departed, the urgency of the impending conversation with Aemond now impossible to ignore. She knew she would have to face the reality of her pregnancy and share the news with her husband, a task that seemed daunting in the wake of the recent emotionally turbulent events.

As Maera stepped into the chamber, the familiar sight transformed into an unsettling tableau. Shadows clung to the edges, rendering corners obscure and accentuating the silence that hung in the air like a heavy veil. The eerie quiet heightened Maera's awareness, each footstep echoing with a gravity that matched the weight of the news she was about to share.

The unlit candles, their wicks whispering traces of smoke, stood as silent witnesses to the unspoken tension within the chamber. It was a stark departure from the usual ambiance, setting the stage for a conversation that promised to alter the very fabric of their shared existence. And yet Maera knew only one reason why the room would be this dark and quiet so early into the night- Aemond was struggling with his lost eye, the throbbing and piercing pain of it being dulled by the darkness and silence.

With the subtle chime of a bell, Maera's maid, Thena, materialized in the quiet chamber, ready to attend to the princess for the evening. The room, shrouded in a solemn atmosphere, seemed to come to life as Thena approached her duties. With practiced hands, the maid delicately removed her golden headpiece and unpinned Maera's hair from its intricate updo. Cascading in a blend of brown and a striking silver streak, the locks tumbled down, framing Maera's face. Next, Thena carefully unlaced Maera's dress, the fabric surrendering and pooling at her feet. Left in her shift after Thena's assistance, Maera dismissed her maid with gratitude.

Alone in the quiet chamber, she approached the four-poster bed, revealing the figure of her silver-haired husband beneath the covers. Aemond lay on his side, the moonlight outlining his toned arms and torso. Silver strands of hair glinted in the dimness, and the brief silhouette of his jaw hinted at his rugged charm. In the darkness, Maera discerned that his eyepatch and the sapphire usually nestled in his eye socket, had been placed in a golden dish on the bedside table.

As Maera removed her shift, she revealed herself entirely, a curvaceous silhouette in the moonlit room. Aemond, a man who favored the intimacy of constant skin-on-skin contact, had an aversion to her wearing clothing during sleep. It brought a sense of vulnerability, to be so bare before one another consistently. Maera knew her husband was not a man of many romantic gestures or poetic words of devotion, yet she knew being able to feel each other brought him great comfort, as it did her.

With a deliberate gentleness, Maera lifted the sheets and slid into bed, ensuring minimal disturbance to Aemond's rest. The weight of the impending revelation about her pregnancy could wait until the morning. As she lay back, head touching the pillow, preparing to close her eyes, she sensed a subtle movement behind her. Maera felt his warm torso press against her back, one arm sliding under her pillow and another snaking around her waist, pulling her closer.

In the hushed tones of sleep coating his voice, Aemond gently spoke to her. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

Consumed by her own thoughts and reluctant to burden him with her news, Maera kept her response brief. “I had duties to attend to, my Prince.”

A hum was Aemond’s only response. Molding his body to hers like a warm cocoon, he offered a silent reassurance. Attuned to her tension, began to run his fingers up and down her bare arm, eliciting subtle goosebumps. Maera, appreciating the comfort, found solace in the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the warmth that encapsulated her.

After a moment, he spoke again, “I assume all is well? After your visit to the Maester?”

Not wanting to disclose the news of her pregnancy just yet, Maera simply replied, “Mm-hmm.” Before Aemond could delve further, she redirected the conversation, asking, “How is your head?”

Aemond, propping himself up on his elbow, allowed the sheet to slide further down his toned torso as he continued the rhythmic motion of running his fingers up and down Maera's bare arm. A subtle smile graced her face, a silent acknowledgment of the comforting touch.

Leaning down, Aemond whispered into her ear with a seductive edge, his warm breath sending a shudder down her spine,“It is better now that you have returned to our bed.” With gentle care, he moved a strand of her brown hair and pressed a light kiss to the delicate shell of her ear.

The Prince’s lips then descended and pressed firmer to just at the start of her neck, a small smile gracing her face at the feeling. Where her neck met her shoulder, Aemond’s kisses became wetter and more urgent, sucking on the skin so it began to to turn a pale shade of purple. Maera revelled in the feeling, her body reacting on its own as she tilted head back against his shoulder to allow him greater access.

She could feel that familiar ache in her core as he nipped and licked at her shoulder, desperate to forget about the news she had been told and wanted to surrender to the pleasure her husband could give her. Maera’s could feel his now hardened cock digging into her backside and experimentally titled and rolled her hips into him, causing a gasp to leave both of their mouths.

Aemond emitted a silent chuckle before the hand on her arm disappeared beneath the sheets, and made its way to her breast, kneading the flesh and pinching the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation had Maera rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to find some relief, a noticeable slick of arousal starting to form.

She almost scolded Aemond when he removed his hand from her hardened peak, only for it to drift south and press flat against her stomach. A kiss onto Maera’s shoulder turned into another bite, causing her to gasp once again and arch her back into him. Aemond took full advantage of this, grinding against her once more, harder this time, his cock now slipping between her legs.

Her body was aching with desire, so she began to rock back against him, his length gathering her slick as it glided between her folds. A sleepy moan left the Prince’s lips as he slid the hand on her stomach to rest firmly on her hip, grasping at it as he matched her grinding, a rhythm becoming established. The tip of his cock brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves, a squeak leaving Maera’s lips as a blush began to coat her cheeks.

Seemingly done with torturing her, Maera felt Aemond grab his length and line it up with her now dripping entrance. Once in place, his hand returned to her hip, and with a swift movement, he pushed himself entirely inside her, a low rumble leaving his chest as he did. The stretch she felt from his cock at this angle was incredible, the familiar sensation of pleasure beginning to bloom as she felt every part of his length nudging against her walls.

Aemond pulled out slowly before immediately thrusting back in, filling her to the hilt, the fingers on her hip digging in so harshly that they were sure to leave bruises. Maera could not help but cry out as his cock hit that spongey spot within her over and over again, the sensation causing her to throw her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed and jaws slack as she completely surrendered to him, as she always did.

The fucking was deep definitely, thanks to his generously sized manhood, but it was not the usual hard fast pace that Maera was used to. It was slow, steady, almost sensual if you could call it that. It was the type of sex that the poets wrote about; to feel completely at one with the other person, to be so in tune with them that your connection goes beyond mere words. It was beautiful, and although not her preferred type of fucking, it just what she needed at this time.

She was snapped back to the moment when she felt Aemond’s hand move from her hip and dip between her thighs as he continued to thrust deeply into her. The Prince’s long, skilled fingers quickly found her pearl, and began swirling gently around it, causing her to cry out as pleasure began to build in the pit of her stomach. The intensity of the feeling grew as Aemond continued his ministrations and Maera rocked desperately against him, chasing her high. She felt his sweat-covered forehead press against her shoulder, the sound of sighs and soft groans leaving his lips filling her with a sense of pride and excitement.

As the coil wound tighter and tighter in her stomach, her hips began to stutter in their movements, causing Aemond to thrust upwards with greater intensity. After hitting the sensitive spot within her once more, the coil finally snapped with her, causing her to cry out in ecstasy as he fucked her through her peak, her own arousal coating her inner thighs, his cock and his skilled fingers that continued to rub against her bundle of nerves.

The Prince found his release shortly after, letting out a low, contented groan as he spilled his seed within her, ropes of hot white liquid painting the inside of her walls. After a moment of basking in the afterglow of sex, their ragged breaths of exhaustion beginning to slow, Maera felt her chin being grasped by Aemond’s thumb and forefinger. He slowly turned her head and captured her lips on a searing his, their mouths moving in tandem and hearts racing as the fuzzy warmth of pleasure encapsulated them both.

When he pulled away from the kiss, Aemond withdrew his cock, a hiss leaving Maera’s lips as she felt him pull out, a mixture of his seed and her own slick now coating the sheet beneath them. Aemond lay on his back and Maera followed suit, lying flat against the mattress as her bare breasts moved up and down as she took some steadying breaths. She turned her head to look at her husband with a soft smile, who also seemed to be recovering from their passionate encounter, a sheen of sweating covering his body.

With a gentle gesture, she lifted her arm and coaxed him toward her. “Come here,” she whispered gently. Aemond, his furrowed brow revealing a hint of confusion, hesitated. Maera spome once more, a sterner yet playful edge to her voice. “Do not make your Princess ask you again.” After a brief pause, Aemond relented, laying his head against her chest and allowing his hand to come up and cup her breast, causing her to giggle.

As she pressed her nose to his silver head, the scent of leather and dragon smoke, formed a sensory tapestry that spoke of familiarity, comfort, and shared history. In this intimate moment, every worry, including the weight of her pregnancy news, seemed to momentarily dissolve. And Maera was able to recognise a profound connection—one that extended beyond the complexities of royalty, duty, and impending challenges. The rare sight of Aemond laying his head on her chest, exposed a side of the prince not known to anyone else. It stirred a deep affection within Maera, an affection she remembered she had for him when they were young.

She marveled at the strength and warmth emanating from him, and the realization of what she felt for Aemond dawned upon her. This marriage was not merely duty, their past, or even just the lust they shared for each other, but a genuine and profound love. Maera was aware that this made her entirely vulnerable to him, but in this moment she did not care.

Tomorrow's concerns—the looming funeral, the war, her pregnancy, the vulnerability of her affections —all faded into insignificance. In the quiet of the present, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Aemond against her, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath, and the simple joy of holding each other. It was a moment suspended in time, where the weight of the world momentarily lifted, allowing them to find solace as they were both pulled into sleep.

Notes: Fuck me, I find smut so challenging to write. After editing it so much, it’s not even sexy to me anymore 😅 oh well, I hope y’all enjoy it at least 🖤

Tags: @abecerra611 @blue-serendipity @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #chapters

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yeehawnatalie · 2 years

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Let’s talk about what went wrong with Taylor Swift Presale today. By now, you should all (hopefully) be aware that today, November 15th, was the start of a war declaration for all swifties. I myself was fortunate to get tickets, but thousands upon thousands of other die hard taylor fans were not. There are quite a few things that went wrong, and I hope to make this post cover as many as I am knowledgeable about so that in the case of future panic, concert ticket buyers can navigate the absolute hellscape that is ticketmaster. Fair warning: this post is long and winded, read at your own risk…. Screenshots will be included

Ticketmaster placed all sales on the same day with only a 1 hour buffer

In all their genius and ingenuity, TM decided to place all 52 presales (not including cap 1) on the same day. with a one. hour. buffer. If you’ve been on Twitter, you’ve seen the panic and anger from all pre-sale goers (myself included) East coast encountered many crashes and 504 bad gateway errors, not even including the “code not working” errors that eventually caused all queues to be placed on hold for over 3 hours… People couldn’t even get into waiting rooms due to site overload. Around 1 hour after this, TM told us to join using the code from our texts, but recommended using a laptop or desktop device… make it make sense? It was not any better in Central nation however. Upon joining the queue, I found myself to be behind nearly 5k people while my mom (who had gotten a code too and was trying incase my night was sold out) was behind nearly 22k people. Within 5 minutes of the queue opening, it was paused. There was no communication at all from TM for about an hour to an hour and a half. Twitter was flooded with people panicking that their codes weren’t working and the lines weren’t moving. I sat there for 4 hours until TM posted the following image.

Absolutely ridiculous. There was little to no communication about known issues or why TM couldn’t get their sh*t together in the span of 4 hours. Keep in mind I waited almost 6 hours to get tickets and others waited even longer. Stadiums were completely sold out in some cases with no update in the queue lines.

Boosts were not recognized/supported

Towards the bottom of this section I have attached a screenshot of a twitter thread discussing this. I personally feel this rumor may have some truth to it. I had no boosts, have never bought merch, and was relatively high in the line. However, I have yet to see a loverfest ticket holder who had a high place in line. The theory is that TM placed the boost holders at the end of the queue. Why? The ongoing theory is that it is for profit - TM is notorious for scalping and ripping off buyers, and it does not surprise me in the slightest that they would do this thinking that all the more dedicated swifties would be willing to spend more $$$ than the “locals.” There is a ton of outrage rn due to this. What was the point of the boosts if they didn’t work? Many boosted fans did not get any tickets as pre-sale sold out quickly.

UPDATE 11/16

Apparently this rumor has been confirmed from TM. See the attached picture. Seems that TM is having trouble keeping all their information consistent. Makes me wonder what exactly the boosts and loverfest did bc they defiantly did not help people get presale codes or ahead in the queue….

Dynamic Pricing + VIP packages

This is a concert lovers greatest enemy. We’ve all heard about how Ed Sheeran opted out of this, and we thought Taylor did as well…. until we walked into the gates of hell. It is still unclear if dynamic pricing is confirmed, but the prices across stadiums and pre-sale times is insane. I paid 299+fees for an 8th row lower bowl while one of my friends paid 400 for a 10th row and another only 250 for a floor ticket. There is absolutely no reason this should exist. Not only does this not detour scalpers, it simply makes the concert less accessible to people who ACTUALLY want to go. Not to mention the insane number of VIP packages available. IMO VIP should be something you add on after, not sold as an individual seat. The prices for floor VIP were 800+ for houston, and when I went to check about 2 hours after getting my tickets, they were one of the last things to be sold. These VIP packages had no communication before presale, and limited the number of good seating for people who simply wanted to watch the concert.

Weird error messages

This was a MAJOR problem during the presale that I haven’t seen many people talking about. I’ve attached a picture of my own error below. After finally getting through to purchase tickets, I found two amazing floor seats within my price range and immediately took them only to be met with the error below. I was literally freaking out while my mom kept on trying different tickets to no avail. I finally found someone on Twitter with the same issue who said they cleared cache and cookies and it worked. Luckily, I was able to do this, reenter my code, and get tickets (although not the amazing floor ones I had in my hand previously) TM has still not replied to my questions about the error messages, and it seems that more people are coming out with the same issue I encountered. I know TM was trying to prevent bots, but someone like me who has a verified email, phone, and clearly residential email handle should not have been flagged and given this code (still don’t know why tf I got it?) Some people are speculating these errors were to limit ticket buyers to cover up TM errors in calculating how many presale tickets were available.

Lack of support and ability to contact support

As I briefly mentioned earlier, I was not helped at all by TM support. There is no easily accessible number to call TM support, and even if there were, there is no guarantee they would pick up in time. Frankly, I was absolutely infuriated with how TM handled this. The lack of texts being sent, emails being sent late into the night with no waitlists in sight, no communication on how presale was going to work. Everyone was told completely different things and no one had any idea what was going on. Add this onto cap 1 presale being pushed back to tomorrow, this is going to make a lot of people really mad. I’ve heard of peoples cards not going through, codes declining, constant ticket disappearing, getting kicked to the back of queue, TM just dropping them - it’s a nightmare. Seriously, just look up some trending Taylor Swift tags on tiktok or twitter rn… And frankly, twitters TM support is just not helpful - the below twitter user received two completely different answers when asking about how codes can be used for different nights.

I sent TM support a message nearly 48 hours ago and still have no received a response - curious as to why, but I’m not entirely surprised. Haven’t heard too much about the situation over on seatgeek.

No Reputation Style Boosts

This is another speculation, but many swifties have said TM wouldn’t allow another reputation boost style system due to the low level of scalper activity during this sale. These boosts worked insanely well to get actual fans on the sale (unlike the verified fans) and it is inferenced that bc TM makes a lot of their money from resales and scalpers, they were against using this method for a popular artist like Taylor. This style of boost could have greatly benefited people who weren’t going to resell tickets, but because of cooperate greed TM has not allowed anyone to use it again.

Insane scalper prices

Literally what is says. 50k for a SINGLE floor ticket is just not it. don’t buy the resell tickets, wait it out for people to sell them at a slightly above face value. They knew people want this tour, and they’re taking advantage of that. How did so many tickets disappear and magically show up on stub hub during the queue pause? (hmmm I wonder it’s almost like that’s TM whole business model) This image is from chicago alone…. and look how many tickets are already here.

“Unprecedented” demand

*sigh* TM you were literally the ones who sent out the presale codes…. you cannot call this “unprecedented” when you literally knew the exact number of people who would be trying to get tickets. These overpriced service fees do what exactly? pay developers to pause queues and not send updates ever? People skipped work and school to buy these tickets and because of your oversight, they lost time and money and may have to miss more tomorrow to participate in Cap 1 presale. There is no other option for this volume of tickets being sold. Taylor has no option but to use this trashy, overpriced site to sell tickets to her loyal fans.

Overall, I am incredibly grateful to have even gotten a presale code. This is of no fault to Taylor or Taylor Nation - the blame lyes only on Ticketmaster. These past 48 hours have been brutal, and I know everyone is frustrated and mad at the shit show that happened today. I’m just asking any and all swifties to put your anger on TM not Taylor. She’s going to have a rough time responding to this, and I think we should make it as easy as possible for her. But most importantly, we need to hold TM accountable, there’s a reason monopoly is americas most hated game. Hopefully someone can crack down on this, but at the end of the day the only thing we can do is continue to support Taylor. Please let me know if there’s anything you think I should add to this post or want added. Thank you and I hope everyone recovers from today. <3

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waywardangel-wilds · 1 month

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So in the topic of Haymitch, how do u think he view Gale during CF and MJ in relation to his treament of Katniss and behavior towards Peeta while he was hijacked?

Hmm, let me think on this. Here's my unfiltered thought process:

I think first of all, Haymitch's forced sobriety was taking up a lot of mental space for him at the time -- the way they 'dried' him up is not the way you go about getting an addict clean and the threat of death was very much real. So, I think that aspect of his life was a big ongoing struggle for him there. This might have distracted him from the Gale Katniss situation.

I also think that he might have been aware of certain aspects of D13 conflict/discourse that Katniss just wasn't so he was probably preoccupied with trying to keep her alive and somehow get Peeta back and then later try to keep Peeta alive too. I think there was a clear sense of 'we're behind enemy lines' for him in a way. So that might have also been a distraction.

During Catching Fire there was also a forced sobriety aspect from Peeta (but I also don't know for sure whether or not he managed to keep drinking behind his back, who knows). There might have also been some rebellion planning stuff that he was privy to that took up mental space so who knows.

So with all that as context, what do I think Haymitch thought? I think that in his instinctual I-know-Katniss-Everdeen way of seeing her, he might have picked up on some tension and possible negative emotional vibes between her and Gale, but I doubt he had complete knowledge of the situation. I think we can assume that a part of him was annoyed with her, even so far as to take Peeta's 'side' (you could live a thousand lifetimes...) because he probably assumed it was all dumb kid stuff that she was wasting her time on. Like I don't see him looking too deeply into it. I also think that he also just cares for both Katniss and Peeta equally so he was giving her shit for 'being mean to him' which is like, stupid. After Gale was whipped? I honestly don't think that shifted things too much for him. I mean, he obviously knows she cares about the kid, but I also don't think he ever thought there was anything serious going on between them. I think he would of mentioned it if he did, like maybe, 'Hey, keep the star-crossed lovers act strong and hide the thing with gale if you wanna live,' but as far as I can recall that never happened?

In D13, what do I think he thought of them? Honestly, I don't think he knew anything was really going on that he should be worried about. I think he was more concerned with her suicidal and insane vibes. I don't think he realized that Gale was certainly not helping. Maybe he thought she could benefit from being around such a close friend? Perhaps his main concern was getting her to stay in a stable enough frame of mind to get her to the other side of the war - to just get her through this thing. Plus, he probably thought it was a good idea for Gale to go with her to all those missions and to hunting expeditions because at least then there would be 1 person there who wouldn't let her kill herself.

But yeah, that's all I can think of right now. Please let me know what you think about this question! Do you think he saw stuff differently? why do you think that? I wanna know lol, I would loveee to get to know the character more.

#send asks #send asks!!

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gettiregretti · 1 year

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Kalluzeb AU Masterpost Kalluzeb Kofi: Shop and Monthly Club Here

Find all story ideas in one spot here. If you are inspired by anything or want to use any idea/design here, no problem! You don’t need to ask permission. I would appreciate a shoutout for it if possible, and I would LOVE a link to what you make!

My Love, My Enemy - Ezra discovers a romance holonovella written about a Lasat and an ISB agent stranded on a forgotten moon. Zeb becomes a sex symbol of the Rebellion overnight, but the book isn’t all that it seems…

Holonovel Cover and Mini Fic. Mini Fic complete on AO3

Two Steps Back - Kallus is faced once again with Oltok; the merc who brutally murdered his men. His psyche breaks and he loses all the progress he’s managed to make with Zeb, the Spectres, and the Rebellion. It takes being captured by the Partisans to make him realise he can’t let his own fear make him cruel like them. (The art in this one is old so apologies in advance)

Reunited Illustration Hold Onto Me Illustration Kallus is Angry that Zeb is Injured Comic 1 Comic 2 Don’t Say Goodbye Kallus and Oltok

The Hunt - Zeb and Kallus are bounty hunters who have become rivals. They compete to get the juiciest bounties first. They leave calling cards and taunts scrawled on walls. Eventually ‘all’s fair in love and war’ kicks in, and it becomes totally acceptable to seduce each other to score a mark first. Eventually they both take in a mark they shouldn’t, and make enemies of the Hutt. It’s only when the game is over that they realise the depth of what they feel for one another.

Kallus Captures Zeb Zeb Captures Kallus

Imperial Zeb AU - Lasan was never destroyed, just assimilated. The Honour Guard are taken in as elite fighters on behalf of the Emperor and at the behest of their own Empress. They don’t know that the royal family have already been killed, and that the Lasat are being used to Palpatine’s own ends. It’s as part of the Empire that Zeb and Kallus meet. It isn’t in Zeb’s nature to be cruel and back oppression, however, so he starts asking questions…and he takes the stick-in-the-mud ISB agent always partnered with him along for a ride to see the rebels.

Imperial Zeb Design

By Your Hand - Zeb and Kallus meet more than once after Bahryn. They keep meeting, in fact, like fate wills it so. Kallus can’t help the way he responds to Zeb; his thoughts and also his body betraying the Empire he has fought so hard to protect. His mind is opened by Zeb, and his life changed. But when he gets to the Rebellion, Zeb isn’t willing to face what they have become to each other.

First Illustration and Full Fic Part 1 - About 15k words

Fic Part 2 - Ongoing NEW

Lira San Life - Not an AU, just snapshots of their time together after they finally get the chance to stop, catch their breath, and BE. Together.

In Kallus’ Garden Kallus’ Lira San Clothing Lira San Wedding

Rebel Cell - ABO AU - as part of his torture, the Empire changes Kallus’ body. At first Kallus thinks he might be a bioweapon of some kind, but as the days pass he realises it is much more humiliating than deadly. The only person he can rely on to help him through this artificial heat is Garazeb Orrelios.

Fic on AO3 (Complete). Fic part 2 (Ongoing). Recharging artwork Sharp teeth/bite artwork

Bodyguard AU / Honourable Discharge AU - Kallus’ father pulls him from military service after the catastrophic injuries Kallus survived on Onderon. He wants Kallus to lead their wealthy business one day instead. Dismissive of his son’s PTSD, he hires a Lasat merc as a bodyguard when business rivals threaten Alex’s life. Zeb, struggling with finding any kind of work after the fall of Lasan, finds himself babysitting a prissy, self-important, veteran-princeling who is terrified of him and trying desperately not to show it.

Kallus Businesswear Kallus and Zeb on Coruscant Overview Ficlet

Death Match - Gladiator AU - Zeb never got out of the fighting pits, and has become a near legendary, celebrity fighter within them. The planet hosting his indentured matches kisses up to the Empire and offers their officers free viewings to brutal fights, sumptuous food, and sensuous dancers. Kallus’ colleague wants to take his number in the ISB, and he’s an underhanded snake about it. He traps Kallus in the underground chambers of the fighting ring, and leaves him to be murdered there. Instead, Kallus is taken in by Zeb and fights his way to the top, and his subsequent rescue via ISB interference. After he wins his freedom, he becomes Zeb’s patron. Everyone suspects Kallus uses his new fighter for pleasure. Which is a fantastic cover story, and also something Kallus finds himself horrified to be longing for in reality.

First Illustration

Galactic Courtesan - Kallus outfits Kallus and Zeb meeting to exchange information

Disneyfication - Rebels in the style of the Mouse

Kallus and Zeb Hera and Kanan Imperial Kallus Swan Princess Style

#I’ll add links and stuff to this tomorrow #designed for easy browsing #long post #if you search the titles of each au as a tag you should find it all #myart

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fallingforunrealisticromance · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST:

Will try my best to keep it updated!!

Requests

Prompts

*************************

Doctor Who:

11:

Causalities and confessions - Summary: The doctor gets into trouble on one of his adventures, luckily you're there to patch him up.

Let me take care of you - Summary: You're a headstrong, mother hen of the group. You always look after everyone without hesitation. But what happens when an adventure goes wrong, leaving you shake and in need of support?

By your side forever - Summary: The doctor feels himself losing hope at the constant return of his worst enemy, but you remind him he's not alone. Based on S5 Ep3 Victory of the darleks.

I should hate you - Summary: When your brother and his wife get taken by the weeping angels, the doctor is the only person you can turn to. Based on S7 Ep5 The angels take Manhattan. Reader is Rory's sibling.

Dream Lord? - The doctors true feelings about himself surface in a battle between reality and the subconscious. Based on S5 Ep7 Amy's choice

Past Versions - you have a run in with an oddly familiar face. Based on S7 Ep16 The day of the doctor.

10:

Send you away - After a trip ends up with you being captured, Teh doctor starts to question his ability to protect you.

Marvel:

Loki:

Safety - Nightmares aren't uncommon for you. But when a particularly graphic one wakes you up, you find comfort in none other than your favourite Norse god.

Freedom of the fall - The tension between tony and steve results to be too much for you. Based during civil war.

Suffocated

Losing Game - You and loki were a losing game, right from the beginning. And you've reached your breaking point.

Bucky Barnes:

Time to heal - For months, you had hated the avengers for what they'd put you through. You never planned on seeing them again. Until you ended up on the same rooftop.

I don’t hate you - A lonely nights in the avengers compound turns out to be the best time to bare your heart to someone.

Tony Stark:

Stay with me - The team has recently found out about your anxiety and panic attacks. Tony refuses to let you suffer alone.

Criminal Minds:

Aaron Hotchner:

Shot for love - An accident on a case makes you realise just how much you care for your boss.

As much as me - Your darkest thought resurfaces at the worst time. Luckily, you're not alone.

You matter - A personal connection to a case takes its toll on you. Aaron reminds you the importance of sharing your burdens.

Dance with me? - With the threat of Garcia's royal ball themed party, Hotch takes it upon himself to make sure you're well prepared.

Just so i could call you mine Pt2 Pt3 (Complete) - Hotch chooses to believe Haley over you when it comes to your relationship, causing you to lose the man you love.

Derek Morgan:

I’ve got you Pt2 Pt3 (Complete) - Being friends with BAU agents can come with complications. And when one of those arrives at your doorstep, Derek is there to help.

Spencer Reid:

Look at me - Something about this case hadn't sat right with you, and you couldn't figure out why. Until it all came crashing down.

BBC Sherlock:

Hold me - Sherlock doesn't realise how touch starved he truly is until he meets you.

High for love Pt2 - Sherlocks using again and you have to look after him. But what happens when he says something he probably wasn't supposed to?

The men you meet Pt2 - Your feelings for sherlock are driving you insane. In an attempt to get over him, you agree to a date with a guy you meet at a coffee shop. However, this seems to bring more harm than good. (Ongoing series)

NBC Hannibal:

Held through the darkness - You didn't realise how much you needed the comfort of your former psychiatrist

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velidewrites · 2 years

Text

|| All my works are available on AO3

|| * Indicates smut/sexual content

|| Sometimes I draw! Check out my art tag

Multi-chapter fic series featuring a number of ships.

Divinity* || Nessian, Elucien, Feysand || ongoing

Archeron!Goddesses AU inspired by Greek Mythology.

You And I Are Going To Change The World* || Feysand, Elucien, Neris || on hiatus

ACOTAR Shadow & Bone AU.

MULTI-CHAPTER FICS

Lead Me Into The Light* || ongoing

To get back what the Cauldron has taken from her, Elain Archeron makes a deal with Prythian’s most dangerous enemy. Now, a servant of a cruel Death God, Elain must make sure her efforts are not discovered—especially not by someone tied to her darkening heart by a golden thread. Someone like her mate.

The Sun Is Fading* || ongoing

Lucien Vanserra has lost everything: his lover, his home, his friend. Now, on a Solstice night far too cold for the fire in his blood, he watches his mate slip away from him, too—right into the arms of another male. He makes a promise then, to the stars who have never listened—he will no longer dream. From now on, Lucien is going to burn—and he’ll make sure the rest of the world burns with him.

Leave Before You Love Me* || ongoing

When a neighbouring kingdom of Scythia begs for aid in the impending war, Prince Lucien is forced into a marriage with its princess. He doesn't expect to fall for her handmaiden instead.

Across The Stars* || ongoing

When the senator of Chandrila’s debts catch up with him at last, the Galactic Empire places a bounty on his daughter’s head. But Elain Archeron is cunning, and she will not go down without a fight—certainly not to the handsome Mandalorian hunter, intent on claiming his prize.

We Could Pretend To Form An Attachment || completed

Collab with @the-lonelybarricade and @azrielshadowssing for the ACOTAR Writing Circle. Desperate to escape the ton's expectations, Elain Archeron makes an unlikely arrangement with a handsome stranger. Elucien Bridgerton AU.

ONE-SHOTS

Emissaries With Benefits* || 8.3k

When diplomacy fails, Prythian courtiers Elain and Lucien like to resort to a steamier kind of negotiation.

Flowerplay* || 4.5k

Collab with @the-lonelybarricade. With her mate sound asleep and prettier than any flower she’d ever seen, Elain can’t help it when a wicked idea blooms inside her mind.

Sooner || 5.4k

Elain reflects on her life with Lucien as his life begins slipping through her fingers.

Cinnamon and Honey || 2.4k

Lucien has long given up on his crush on Elain Archeron — until she drops by his flower shop to return a bouquet from her now ex-boyfriend. (OR: Elucien Flower Shop AU except that Lucien is the florist.)

The Fox || 2.7k

Lucien's past haunts his dreams without mercy. Fortunately, he no longer sleeps alone.

DRABBLES

Elucien Drabbles Masterlist* || ~2.3k

Here you can find all of my Elucien drabbles, short fics under 2.3k words!

Day Court Elucien Drabbles || ~1k

Here you can find my Day Court-set Elucien drabbles!

MULTI-CHAPTER FICS

Remember, We're Madly In Love* || ongoing

When 19-year old Feyre Archeron voluntarily takes her sister's place in the Hunger Games, she expects nothing but her imminent demise. But Feyre is a survivor, and as she is thrown into a battle between life and death, she discovers there are things worth fighting for.

Starchaser* || ongoing

What if Feyre never killed the wolf in the woods that night? (ACOTAR rewrite)

Crimson Moon* || ongoing

A messy breakup forces 20 year old Feyre Archeron back to her old hometown of Forks, Washington—back to the life she thought she'd left behind. What she doesn't know, though, is that Forks has changed in her absence, its blue-tinted fog stained by fresh, crimson blood. Luckily, Feyre is ready to join the hunt.

Where Have You Been* || on hiatus

Fifteen years after Feyre Archeron and her family disappear in the middle of the night, the Prince of the Night Court enters the Blood Rite, determined to prove himself worthy of his title. He doesn't expect to be hunted by someone he believed to be dead—until she aims her arrow for his heart.

ONE-SHOTS

All I Know Is We’re Going Home || 3k

When the High Lord of Spring's bargain with Amarantha fails, Rhysand escapes the Deceiver's prison and runs to the Mortal Lands.

Intent on killing a faerie out of the hatred in her heart, Feyre spends the night hunting in the wintry woods. She doesn't expect to find a man there - the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

The Sandman* || 2.3k

When hunger pushes a young huntress deep into the woods, she stumbles upon a creature far more dangerous than the wintry night.

I Was Never There* || The Bone Carver x OC || 18.2k

No one remembers her name. But I do. (Chapter 23, A Court of Wings and Ruin)

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun* || Nesta x Cassian || 7.3k

Nesta is having the worst time on her vacation—until she spots a handsome stranger in a restaurant. Lucky for her, he’s determined to show her a good time.

Cassian* || Cassian x Elain || 4k

Hosting the court of her newly Made sister in her home, Elain Archeron visits Cassian's room in the middle of the night.

The Holiday* || Feysand & Elucien || 8.5k

To escape the chaos in their lives, Feyre and Elain Archeron decide to swap houses for Christmas. Neither of them expect to find love - until it comes knocking on their door.

REQUESTED SCENARIOS

500 Word Smut Prompts* || various pairings

Here you can find short drabbles I wrote based on requested smut prompts!

Apology Prompts* || various pairings

Here you can find short drabbles I wrote based on requested apology prompts!

MOODBOARDS

ACOTAR Character Edits

A moodboard series depicting the ACOTAR characters.

ACOTAR Locations

A moodboard series depicting to locations featured in ACOTAR.

OTHER FANDOMS

Had You Said The Word* || Obi-Wan Kenobi x Satine Kryze || completed

The Clone Wars (2008) S5 E16 reimagined with Dark Side!Obi-Wan.

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proosh · 6 months

Note

"Averse to all forms of cowardice?" I'm actually convinced you have no idea who you're talking about. One of France's defining character traits is that he's a coward. You sound like a fake fan.

Anon, and anyone else who's reading this, look. I'm really sorry for the tone the rest of this reply is about to take. You see, I'm someone who's very much about curating one's personal internet experience, and an advocate for mutual respect and sensibility in regards to fandom matters. I'm all about encouraging differing interpretations and analyses of characters, even if I don't necessarily agree or understand it's all a matter of perspective and if I'm not a fan of something? I ignore it, simple. I likewise expect the same sort of understanding from other participants in fandom: If I am posting things that is not to someone's taste, they can simply ignore me or block me to curate their personal online experience. You know, like civil people within a public forum.

However, you've decided to come to my inbox, on this wretched day after I have just been subjected to two and a half hours of the worst Napoleonic cinema experience the human mind can possibly conjure, to tell me that I am a "fake fan" over a silly little shitpost? Are you on crack? Is it crack you're smoking? Because, my good bitch, you will find it is you who is the fake fan.

For example, we've got literal direct canonical evidence of France being, like, incredibly and unfathomably enthusiastic about the idea of getting to go to war with the English again, specifically saying that being at peace feels like he's been "crammed into a fake version" of himself. I'm sorry, it really doesn't get more explicit than that. Look, it's not a headcanon I believe in, but that's okay. You do you! I'm happy for whatever interpretation you have! I will not be the one sending pissy little anons about it, I promise! You're welcome to block me if this is something that is incompatible with your fandom experience! Go for it! Please!

But, sure, maybe direct canon depiction isn't enough to defend the thought process as to my personal interpretation. I'll put this under the cut since I'm invariably getting long-winded, but let's have a quick fun lightning-round overview of French history and culture in regards to their collective bloodthirst and warmongering that doesn't really lend itself to an interpretation of 'cowardice' as a concept that's strongly represented within the French national identity (at least in my opinion);

The French have, for about a thousand-odd years, been heavily associated with an unusually bellicose, honour-bound, chivalric, warmongering ideal, to the point their ongoing national anthem is quite literally about murdering people and watering the fields with blood!

Historian Niall Ferguson argues that France is the most belligerent military power in history!

Literally over a million men were fed into the meat grinder of World War One! Literally an entire generation! Approaching 5% of the entire population!

One of the last bayonet charges in history was performed by the French! In 1995!

Their ongoing nuclear doctrine is one of the pants-shitteningly insane ones on the planet, and scared the piss out of the Soviets - Which is to say, they will happily drop a nuclear weapon on an enemy city as a warning shot! And they'll do it, too, because they keep refusing to sign nuclear arms treaties!

Their population is entirely and consistently prepared and ready to implode their own country and governance at the first sign of any infringement upon perceived civil and social liberties!

If you've read this far, anon, congratulations! I hope you can better understand the reason why I interpret France the way I do! If you disagree with me, you're welcome to come off anon and meet me at the Champs-Élysées at dawn so we can duel to the death over our incompatible opinions like true respectable gentlepeople of honour and class. Or you can just block me and not bother me again.

It's totally up to you, buddy!

#sorry to everyone for this i've decided to take the french nuclear doctrine to heart and just go apeshit #anon! please go away! fuck off! block me!#watch waterloo (1970) instead of napoleon (2023) btw #just to clarify this isn't to shit on anyone's opinion or interpretation!#genuinely. do what you want. idc.#what am i. a cop? go. be free. stop sending pissy anons over fake anime country boys.#from the askbox

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asykriel · 2 years

Text

Love is the Death of Duty - 4.

® do not repost or translate !

☆ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Male! Targaryen OC

☆ Status: Ongoing

☆ Summary:

“He is half of my heart.”

War made monsters of them all, but it also brought the two second sons together in a flurry of death, love, deceit and delusion. The story of Aemond Targaryen and the eldest son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, Maegor Targaryen, second of his name.

☆ Warnings: Sexual content, explicit violence, dark themes, targcest etc.

☆ AO3 ☆ || ☆ Wattpad ☆

☆ CHAPTERS: (Prologue) / ( 1 ) / ( 2 ) / ( 3 ) / ( 4 ) / ( 5 ) / ( 6 ) / ( 7 ) / ( 8 ) / ( 9 ) / ( 10 ) / ( 11 ) / ( 12 ) / ( 13 ) / ( 14 ) / ( 15 ) / (16 - WIP)

☆ Masterlist ☆ || ☆ Spotify Playlist ☆

➸ Previous part

➸ Next part

Chapter 4

The early morning rays of sunshine found Maegor dozing off in the same place, leaning against the same wall in the training courtyard. Slowly opening his eyes, realization hits him and he jumps back up on his feet, groaning at the dull pain that was pulsing through his head. He cannot remember when he fell asleep but he reckons it was only for a brief moment judging by how exhausting he was feeling. An hour at most.

Everything that unfolded last night between him and Aemond was hazy and Maegor was fearful it might have been just a beautiful dream. He hoped not.

Maegor swiftly stretches his tired body and scans the yard. No one in sight yet. Thankfully it seemed too early for anyone to start their day. He makes advantage of the situation to return to his chambers unnoticed by any servants or guards as quick as possible. If anyone came across him at such an early hour it could come off as wrong. Maegor could be accused of spying or worse by the Queen or Otto Hightower considering how dear his family was to them.

Back in the safety of his chambers his eyes dart around the room, scanning it. It was strangely quiet. His elder brother was usually not a quiet sleeper, often mumbling or tossing and turning around while he slept. Growing suspicious, Maegor strides over to his brother's bedroom but he finds it empty. Maybe he took his bedroom by accident.

He darts to the other chamber. Empty. Something was not right.

"Jace?" He calls out, tensing up with a hand ready against the pommel of his Nightbringer. His senses were dulled by the exhaustion creeping in his body and he was starting to become paranoid.

"I thought I told you to return to your chambers last night, boy." Daemon's sudden voice make Maegor flinch and unsheathe his sword instinctively. His father leans against the edge of the only table in the room and looks at the blade with a bored expression completely unfazed by the defensive display.

"I could not sleep, I went to train and clear my mind. Like I always do." Maegor points out but bows his head in apology and abruptly shoves Nightbringer back in its holster. His eyes hold his father's own ones, brazenly.

He forces his body to relax as best as he could be the reality of the situation was slowly hitting him. He was caught off guard in a vulnerable moment and it was unacceptable for a warrior to be. If it was an enemy Maegor would surely be dead by now.

Daemon lets out and amused chuckle and hums in response. However his gaze is a harsh one on his son. A cold amethyst glare biting at his flesh and trying to drive him into a corner.

He knows.

"Is that so? I believe the training was fruitful seeing as you are so exhausted." His father narrows his eyes and it frays at Maegor's anxiety and nerves. He swallows drily, keeping his best facade and nods in silence. A poor attempt to mislead Daemon like so many others have tried in the past but unlike him had terrible fates.

The Rogue Prince could get under his skin the way no one else could even though he was always a great father to him and his other brothers as well. Firm but caring at the same time, not sheltering any of them like his mother did with his three half brothers. If they were enemies Maegor would have been terrified of him, but it gladdens him that they share blood and that he got mentored by him.

"Surely you must have had a sparring partner to drain you this good." The Rogue Prince hits his every nerve. Maegor could not deceive Daemon even if all of the gods came down to aid him. The man had a gift to see right through anyone's bullshit and manipulation. And it was him who taught him all his tricks, they would not best his lifetime teacher.

"I was alone. My brothers were already sleeping and I chose to not disturb them." His son keeps up with this farce, offering a poorly made up excuse without even thinking about it ahead of talking. But Maegor was too anxious to think. Half of his mind was still howling after Aemond and despite the threat of whatever punishment may come, he did not regret anything that happened last night.

"Do not lie to me boy. I was not referring to your brothers." Daemon scoffs at the pathetic excuse. Even if he wasn't a witness last night, hearing such a poor thought lie was enough to make him suspicious. Maegor rarely trained with his brothers anymore and if he did it was because Daemon himself ordered them to.

Curse the dragon blood and his father's ways of always mingling and finding everyone's secrets.

"Prince Aemond." His father presses the matter and Maegor starts pacing around the room to offer himself some kind of self comfort. He was cornered and there was no escape from the deadly dragon in front of him.

"Fair. I admit we were training together. The dinner made us both restless." Maegor groans in exasperation but his words come out more interpretable than initially thought. No sin was committed in his perspective. Daemon's torture seemed unreasonable. After all, the things his own father did in his youth could make even a seasoned prostitute turn beet red with shame.

"Not just training it would seem. I know what you did son. I saw you." His father lets out a deceiving laugh and rubs the bridge of his nose. A clear statement, the tone in his voice is firm but holds no malice. Luckily to Maegor, his father always seemed to have a softer spot for him than all of his other children.

His firstborn son reminded of him of himself and his youthful days in so many ways. At least Maegor was more inhibited when it came to his instincts and preferred more orthodox outlets, such as training with the blade or studying. It made him nostalgic. But his son could not be cursed to become him, Daemon could at least spare him of that. It was enough that the boy was in his shadow and everyone expected - or dreaded - him to grow up to be a perfect copy of the Rogue Prince. The burden of legacy was a curse for all great characters it would seem. Targaryens especially.

Maegor stops his pacing abruptly at the accusation and his cheeks turn a shade of pink. They burn with shame, not with the shame of regret but with the shame of having his secret discovered by his very own father. Why him out of everyone else?

"I shall not punish you for something that only comes natural with age. But not him." Daemon offers brief reassurance, his words bring more pain than comfort when they reach Maegor's ears.

"It is him I want." Maegor instantly retorts, holding his ground bravely and surprising his father. A bold but genuine statement.

"You can have anyone but not him. Do you understand me?" Daemon clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disapproval.

Maegor's hand curl up in fists as irritation starts pooling up in his body.

"I refuse. I want my Prince Aemond." Simply, he presses on, defending his claim with a defiance that Daemon has never encountered before from his son. It makes his father blink twice.

"Your mother and I did not engage you with anyone because we wanted you to have the freedom to choose, but I am asking you, son, to choose anyone except Aemond. You might as well lay with the enemy, he is no different." Daemon warns but the cold glare he receives back from Maegor cuts right through him and he is taken slightly aback. This never happened before.

Enemy?

Somehow he understands his son's choice but he cannot allow him to indulge it. Aemond Targaryen was an offspring of the Green bitch that was commanding in his brother's stead. His mind was poisoned by her as for the rest of her children.

Aegon might have been the eldest but he was just a fool who enjoyed women and drinking too much, he posed little threat and Helaena was just a poor girl, quite delusional in Daemon's eyes, that had the misfortune of being born in that wretched family. The fourth and youngest child, Daeron, he did not know too well, but considering how quick he was shipped to Oldtown to be schooled and trained made Daemon assume he was no better than the cunt that was Otto Hightower.

However, it was the third child that was truly lethal. The dark display and the chaos the One Eyed Prince unleashed last night at the dinner was enough proof. The One Eyed Prince was dangerous and bloodthirsty - just like Daemon was- but there was something that made him the deadliest out of all the Greens and it wasn't just Vhagar. He saw how insatiable his desire was to get vengeance on his step sons last night. Daemon could not let his firstborn son to fall in the grasp of those vipers and lose him forever like he lost his own elder brother, Viserys to them.

"Father you do not understand. The yearning I feel for him is like an insatiable hunger, hollowing me dry." Maegor grasps his hair in anger and raises his voice at his father in desperation. The blood was rushing to his head again, making him dizzy but this time with anger.

"Put an end to this farce. You do not yearn for him, boy. These feelings are fleeting, you are young still." The Rogue Prince barks. He was starting to become increasingly irritated. The two rarely had arguments, and out of all the children, Daemon despised bickering with his firstbon son the most. Maegor's stubbornness and fire could only rival his and he knew they would clash harshly. His step sons never even dared contradicting him, let alone argue with him the way Maegor did. Normally, father and son would settle their disagreements on the sparring grounds after they would both be too tired and much calmer but right now Daemon had no intention to indulge him at all.

"It is my final decision. You will not go against it and you will not mention a word about him to your mother. Tis' for your own sake, Maegor. " Daemon concludes, waving a hand in dismissal already tired of the pointless tantrum and pleading speeches. He turns and makes his way to the door to leave the room and find something else to occupy his mind with.

"Aemond has been in my heart for six fucking years. He's always been. Always." Maegor shouts at him and pleads with his father careless that someone might hear him from the hallways. Let them hear. He would shout it in their faces if he could. His father snorts crudely at the confession which angers Maegor even further.

"We are returning to Dragonstone in the eve'. Gather your belongings and bid your farewells." Daemon leaves the chambers without looking back. Maegor finds himself alone with his fury and thoughts again and in a fit of blinding anger he kicks a wooden chair against the nearest wall.

"Sīkudi nopāzmi!"

If it were anything else Maegor would feel pathetic for begging his father and throwing a tantrum like a child whose toy has been taken. The matter was more important than that however. He refuses to give up on his claim. On Aemond. There was no one else in the world he wanted other than him.

The one time he was truly desiring something other than claiming his own dragon - and becoming a dragon rider - he was being forbidden from taking it.

Maegor starts pacing furiously around the room, thinking, planning something that could get him out of this dead end his own father has placed him in. In a moment of seething rage he redirects his anger and kicks another chair. This time the wood cracks and splits slightly under the force. He needed to calm himself soon or he would end up turning the whole chamber upside down.

Then Maegor - without thinking and being increasingly unreasonable - curses his half brothers, blaming them for receiving everything they wished for. Dragons, their childhood loves and titles of high esteem. Why was he any less worthy of? He who was above them in both study and sword. He who excelled after breaking blood and sweat while they were mediocre because they were sheltered and protected. There has always been a kind of rivalry between him and his three half brothers but such cold thoughts sometimes made Maegor truly loathe and envy them.

This new kind of boiling anger he was feeling was turning him into a different person. Maegor's thoughts were slowly starting to spiral out of control if he would not find a distraction soon. Something to soothe him. No comfort would be found here as long as he would be left alone to deal with his fury. But he knew Aemond would comfort him. Maegor needed him.

The young Prince storms out of the chambers and makes his way with a sole purpose in mind. He pays no mind to the guards and servants that threw him curious and weary looks but otherwise stayed out of his way. Anyone could tell he was furious, trudging akin to a wild beast that was caged in.

Luckily his memory was still as vivid as it was six years ago and countless hallways and chambers from the Red Keep remained mapped in his head so his target is relatively easy to find, without the risk of getting lost in the gigantic keep.

Maegor suddenly finds himself in front of the heavy door that was preventing him from entering Aemond's chambers. He was looking at it silently, contemplating whether or not to disturb him. Was he even here? He paid no mind to the two guards on either side of the door who were looking at him with confusion and a bit of curiosity.

"My Prince Maegor, shall we deliver a message to Prince Aemond on your behalf?" One of the guards clears his voice and asks with a tinge of hesitation on his tongue.

After the events of the previous day in the throne hall where he mirrored his father and killed a man with no hesitation in front of the King, people started becoming weary of Maegor as well, especially since they knew little about him or his character to make a proper judgement. All they knew was that he was the Rogue Prince's firstborn son and that he bore the name of the Conqueror's own son.

"That would not be necessary. I have come to speak to him myself." Maegor shakes his head in disapproval and mirrors his father's gesture from earlier, pinching his nose bridge whilst deciding his next move.

The two guards briefly look at eachother, clearly baffled by the situation. Rare were the times when anyone wished to speak to Aemond Targaryen. Usually his presence was only requested through Ser Criston Cole by his mother or directly by the knight when the time for training came. Rarely it was Aegon drunk and bored out of his mind that wanted to get on his nerves by invading his private space, which only lasted for a few moments until Aemond's temper was quick to act and throw him out. Everyone else in the Red Keep was avoiding him, staying out of Aemond's way and his nasty temper. The eyepatch and the glimpse of the long scar from beneath were enough to scare others, but the way he carried himself and the power that came off him were truly terrifying.

Maegor was the opposite of terrified. He loved it. He loved his powerful presence. He loved how Aemond even scared his own family - Aegon and his venomous mother included. He loved what he was doing to him.

How could Maegor give up on him so easily just because his father demanded it? Because he thought he was the enemy.

Sucking in a breath he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the door for a brief moment. Thinking, planning, deciding. His bright mind was surely his greatest curse as well.

"My Prince? Are you well?" The guards question, thinking he might have been sick from how he was acting.

Maegor was not well. He was ill. But not with a sickness that could be seen or cured.

The son of the Rogue Prince smiles weakly at the thought. He takes a deep breath. There was no gain without risk, his own father thought him that.

"Wait, my Prince!"

Maegor barges inside the chambers.

The guards go after the young Prince to remove him from the room but Maegor stops abruptly and pays no mind to the heavy armored hands on his shoulders that urge his departure.

Sitting at a desk with a book in his hands, Aemond stares at him with a surprised expression on his face. The One Eyed Prince looks exhausted and sleepless but Maegor thinks he's ethereal. Long silver hair was untied and let loose on his shoulders that were covered only by a black inner shirt. His scabbard with his sword was neatly placed on the desk next to him ready to be used if needed. The only thing that wasn't discarded was his eyepatch still covering his eye as usual.

"Clear the room." Aemond says, giving a brief and stern look to the two knights but immediately softening his gaze when it returns on Maegor.

The guards nod in unison, obeying the command and swiftly exit the chambers, leaving the two young Princes alone. Maegor holds his hands behind his back and fidgets with his fingers nervously. He has so much to tell Aemond but he feels a knot in his throat. How should he start? Did anything that happen last night mean as much to his uncle as it did to him? His mind was spiraling into an amalgamation of thoughts yet again.

Aemond observes him closely, scanning him from head to toe with a gaze that only seemed to be genuine and soft when he looked at the younger Prince. Something was off about his nephew, he looked startled and shaken and it wasn't clear to Aemond that it was his own doing. What exactly, he could not tell but he allows the silence, letting the younger Prince calm whatever storm was brewing inside him and find his words.

"Sleepless night?" Maegor asks the obvious. The slight change in his voice from his usual cold and confident tone, doesn't go unnoticed by the older Prince. Did he scare his nephew last night?

"For you as well it would seem." Aemond hums. Maegor remains silent just nodding in response. The scorching fire was still there. Aemond could see it in his nephew's eyes - lilac and blue - how they were piercing him the way no one else did. The older Prince was used with weary looks of fear or disdain from everyone around him but the way Maegor looked at him made him feel strangely alive and burning. As if he was on the brink of death and that was his only lifeline keeping him breathing. The only time he ever felt such feelings before was when he was a child and he claimed the beast that is Vhagar. Now it would seem Aemond was the one being claimed instead.

"Come, let us sit." The One Eyed Prince invites his nephew, seating himself on a large divan in front of a tea table, situated in the middle of the room. He pats the seat next to him to which Maegor obediently follows and mirrors Aemond's actions.

"Something is troubling you, nephew. Is it not?" Aemond presses on in a gentle tone. Indeed he was curious about the sudden change of demeanor but at the same time he did not wish to treat Maegor harshly by being impatient. After all he came to cherish him more than he initially thought. Being the second sons that were always the targets of taunting and crude pranks as children brought them closer to each other, at first unconsciously and now knowingly all due to the hardships they endured, Aemond more of them than anyone else.

Maegor sighs deeply and lowers his head, holding his forehead with a hand. He was exhausted. Tired and angry. The argument he had with Daemon sucked him dry out of the last ounce of energy. Time was running fast and soon evening would come and his departure back to Dragonstone was inevitable.

"You see right through me, my Prince." Maegor rubs his tired eyes with one hand and smiles weakly. Aemond sucks in a silent breath hearing his nephew address him by his title for the first time.

A hand suddenly reaches out and for a brief moment every fibre in Maegor's body tenses up to a painful point and then he relaxes in an instant. Aemond's fingers were running through his bright silver locks, stroking gently and soothing him down. It was the first time anyone besides himself and his mother -when he was a child- ever performed such a tender gesture on him.

"There are no others but us here. You can always speak freely to me." Aemond hums in a voice almost as soothing as his touch.

Maegor closes his eyes and leans his head against his shoulder, akin to a feline as he lets himself be pet by his uncle. He wishes he could stop the passing of time so he could enjoy this forever.

"My fath- Daemon saw us last night in the sparring grounds. He came to my room this morning and forbid me to continue seeing you." Maegor mutters. The blood in his veins is warming up with anger as he recalls the moment. Aemond clicks his tongue in disapproval but remains silent, continuing with his soft gesture.

"I am to bid you farewell and return to Dragonstone with my family this eve'." Maegor grips his hands together in frustration. His knuckles turn white but he is too angry to feel the pain.

"I am sorry nephew, however as much as it may upset your family and certainly my own as well, I refuse to put an end to this. They cannot forbid our wants, we are dragons after all and I want you." Aemond speaks firmly, grasping Maegor's hands with one of his own. The younger Prince thinks he might be delirious hearing his uncle speak so dearly of him. It makes his stomach twist in countless of knots hearing Aemond confess his desires before him.

"It gladdens me so much to hear you say this, uncle. It chases away all my doubts and it makes me powerful, I could fight an entire army by myself." Maegor sighs and slumps down on his back across the divan, resting his head in Aemond's lap. The older Prince is slightly taken aback by the sudden action but he relaxes it when he notices Maegor closing his eyes partly from the comfort but mostly because of the tiredness biting at his bones.

"And what kind of doubts might those be, nephew?" Aemond places a hand on Maegor's chest, resting it there while his other is still in his hair, carding through it slowly.

It was as soothing for him as it was for the younger Prince. Neither of them ever had a moment of respite, they were both constantly on guard, tensed and on edge ready for anything. The second sons had to fight for their share unlike their other brothers that got everything on a silver platter. And now both of them were so atrociously touch starved.

"I was fearful I might be the only one getting scorched by this fire inside us. Scared that you might be offended by the affection I carry for you for these past six years, or that you might reject me and look down on me like you do with my half brothers." Maegor opens his eyes, fixing his gaze on his uncle as he lays his heart on a platter in front of the older Prince. If he wished to put a dagger through it at this very moment, Maegor's feelings would not change.

"You are a dragon, not like those bast- scoundrels. I never held any ill feelings for you nephew, quite the opposite." Aemond shakes his head, keeping a seemingly unbothered facade but his skin was getting hotter with every honest word his nephew spoke. His hand moved from Maegor's chest to rest on his throat, just under his chin only lightly applying pressure.

"My father told me this morning I could have anyone else in the world except you." Maegor meet's Aemond's violet eye and they are both set ablaze. His mind is getting hazy with desire.

"And?" Aemond's hand squeezes tighter.

"And I shouted in his face that it is you my body and heart yearn for. No one else. You claimed me as well that night you claimed Vhagar, uncle. " Aemond barely lets his nephew finish his words when he leans over him seal his lips shut with a searing kiss. The older Prince shifts his position until he gets on top of Maegor who was sprawled out on the divan.

Maegor groans softly in his mouth, taken aback by the sudden fervor but nonetheless reciprocates with the same passion. The younger Prince buries his hands through his uncle's long silver locks and pulls him closer, pressing their scorching bodies together. Their kiss deepens and becomes more aggressive - with teeth and biting and tongue - the hotter their shared blood starts to boil. The gentleness from the earlier tender touches was long replaced by the wildness of the dragon nature.

To Hell with Dragonstone.

If there was any voice of reason and willpower left in Maegor's brain, at this moment it was all gone. The Queen herself could have walked in on them and he would have not stopped. Neither of them would have.

Aemond's sinful mouth moves quickly from Maegor's lips to his throat, biting the skin softly and planting soft kisses along his jugular, drawing short gasps from his nephew's lips. In return, the younger Prince fumbles with the buttons on his uncle's shirt until he manages to undo them and run his hands all over, scratching across Aemond's milky white skin - his chest, his back, his shoulders. Maegor was branding his body on the back of his head.

It was suffocating. Hot, blazing hot. Scorching like dragonfire and the two Princes were both willingly to burn together.

To Hell with Daemon's command. Nothing can stop me.

Hips are pressed harder together, drawing groans and gasps from both of them as they start to get increasingly more impatient and lost in themselves. Even the air around them gets unbearably hot. Aemond's deft fingers finds the laces to Maegor's leather trousers and undoes them hastily. His teeth meet with the juncture of his nephew's neck and they bite harshly at the same time his hot hand finds and grasps Maegor. The younger Prince moans loudly, startling himself so he clamps his hands over his mouth. The older Prince knowingly marks his nephew in a place where anyone could see. But he wanted them to see that Maegor belonged to him and him alone.

"No. Let me hear you my Prince, my ears only." Aemond looms over him and he murmurs into his knuckles that have gone white, urging Maegor to uncover his mouth with soft kisses. It makes Maegor shiver from head to toe hearing Aemond call him like that and having him switch to another tender gesture in the midst of their lust.

Nonetheless, the younger Prince shakes his head reluctantly, his pupils blown wide and his mind half lost. Aemond simply hums in response but there's a mischievous glint in his eye that makes him distrustful.

Suddenly, his hand pulls his nephew's cock out of his trousers and he undoes his own trousers as well with the other one. Aemond grasps both of their burning erections together and they both moan in unison at their joining. Maegor's eyes slightly roll backwards when he feels this new sensation that tears right through his core, driving him beyond insanity. Sure, he touched himself before but having Aemond undo him like this was better than his craziest wet dreams. His hands dart from covering his mouth to twist them in the collar of his uncle's shirt. An anchor of some sorts because he was afraid he was going to either drown or suffocate.

They start kissing again. Gasping for hair and moaning in each other's faces the faster Aemond's hands kept going. The speed and friction it was unbearable, both of the young Princes were painfully close but they were fighting to make it last just for a little longer. Consuming each other like this, like predators.

"I promise the next time I will see you uncle, I will meet you as a dragonrider." Maegor mutters in between messy kisses and moans. Aemond groans against his lips and his hands squeeze their cocks harder in response, going mad with ecstasy.

"And I will claim you like you have claimed me." Maegor continues, darting one hand to grasp Aemond's own ones, urging them to put more pressure on their cocks as his other hand wraps around his uncle's throat. Maegor squeezes at his neck, mirroring what his uncle was doing inches lower.

"MaegorMaegorMaegor..."

Aemond moans his nephew's name like chanting a mantra or praying to a god. He comes undone, with Maegor following quickly after in a silent cry. The One Eyed Prince slumps on top of him, their ragged breaths echoing in unison throughout the chamber. They catch their breaths together wrapped around eacho ther like that, savoring every little second of the scarce time they have left together until the younger Prince's departure.

"A promise made must be kept." Aemond mutters a reminder in his hair, inhaling his nephew's scent, memorizing it. Neither of them knew when they would meet again. It could weeks, months even years. The future held many treacheries and uncertainties and it made them both uneasy but none the less certain about one another.

Maegor kisses him, this time softly and chastely, sealing the oath he just made to Aemond.

"I always keep my promises. It was you who taught me uncle."

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