#Inferno x Red Alert

[dumblelik]

MY FAV GAYS💥

It's sad that the ship is not very popular(

(AAA I JUST RECENTLY REALIZED THAT IN THE MY LAST TWO POSTS WITH RATCHET I MADE A DESIGN WRONG WHAT A STUPID FOOL AM I💥)

[knockoutssparebuffer]

Ik Someone already posted a redferno and Heatwave ver of this but it reminded me I had a Humanformers one that I've been scared a bit to post

[minniethemoocherda]

Iridescent: Chapter 33

A/N: Sorry this update is a week late! I started a new job at the beginning of January and I am exhausted! So I am not going to make any promises regarding any update schedule! Updates may be a bit more random for a while sorry! Xxxxxxx

(Also if you want to learn more about Elita's alternative sleeping arrangements you can read about them in my other fic in this series "Falling Into Empty Space.")

Ao3

FF.net

As he hurried after Jazz to the end of the med-bay, Prowl saw the unguarded shock fall on the spy's faceplate. Prowl's tact-net could not come to any suggestions as to what could cause such a reaction in one who was so usually in control.

Then he looked past Jazz to the berth.

For a second Prowl's logic circuits could not comprehend the sight in front of him.

Blackout, the former head of special operations, was dead.

Therefore it was impossible for her to be lying in the med-bay. Yet there she was.

Thankfully, the tact-net embedded in his brain was quick to supply him with the fact that they had never found her body. She had been sent to spy on Shockwave's attempts to make synthetic energon onboard the Nemesis and never returned. Beyond her lack of reappearance, they'd only had Megatron's word as proof of her demise. And at the time, they hadn't had any reason to suspect otherwise.

Which only raised a new set of questions. Why would Megatron lie? How did she survive? And where had she been all this time?

Prowl knew it would be rude to ask but for the sake of the safety on every bot on board he needed to. Thankfully before he could, Blackout started explaining herself.

"Good, now that you're all here I won't have to repeat myself a dozen times." She said, pushing herself into a seating position as she looked at each of the members of High Command crowded around her. For a moment her gaze caught on Prowl. If she found it odd that he had arrived at the same time as Jazz then she decided not to mention it. "As soon as I snuck onboard Shockwave found me. Like he'd been waiting for me."

Prowl wasn't sure if anyone had told her about Silverstreak's defection yet but if the traitor had been working for the Decepticons for as long as they suspected, then that could explain the unfolding situation.

"He wanted information on our synthetic energon experiments." Blackout continued. "I didn't tell him anything. Not that there was much to tell. Or at least there wasn't before I left." She gave a quick questioning glance at Ratchet's unconscious body. "Anyway, I think Shockwave must have realised that because eventually instead of asking me questions he just started using me as the test subject for his own energon experiments."

"Did he-"

"No." Blackout interrupted before Red Alert's sensors could start sparking. "He didn't succeeded in making any synthetic energy sources."

"And as thankful for that as we are, we are more grateful to Primus that you have returned to us." Optimus said. Even with his facemask on, the smile was visible in his voice. "How are you?"

"I am fine." Blackout replied.

"Well it looks like any superficial damage has scared over from what I can see." Inferno stated. Prowl followed the former firefighter's optics as they checked over Blackout's body. The black of her armour was now a dull grey, covered in small scars that appeared to have been cut and sealed over and over and over again. "There's no sign of a current infection and your basic vitals are all alright as well. I'm no Ratchet, but I could try to hook you up to do a full scan-"

"No." Blackout snapped, flinching away from the wire in Inferno's outstretched servos.

Prowl hadn't known her well before her apparent passing. But never before had he seen her flinch.

"I told you already that I am fine." Blackout insisted, shoving herself off of the berth. She stood on unsteady pedes, once again flinching away Inferno's offered hand. But she stayed upright as she started to march herself out of the med-bay. "I just need to write up my report then I can get back to work."

"Sure thing boss-bot!" Jazz said. "Just need to clean up your office for ya first."

Belatedly Prowl tried to calculate how Jazz felt about the news of Blackout's return. But as ever the spy was near impossible to read. Prowl was sure only he could tell that the spy's smile was off.

Prowl watched as a flicker of something other then a mask of indifference crossed Blackout's faceplate as for the first time, she took a proper look at Jazz. But as soon as Prowl registered it, the look was gone.

"There is no rush. I can write my report elsewhere." Blackout stated.

"Where? The rec-room?" Jazz snorted. "Not like I was using the desk much anyways. You know me, the only way I can write anything's is if I'm hanging upside down."

The corners of Blackout's lips twitched into the semblance of a smirk.

"Yes I do know you. So I know what you're trying to do."

Prowl must have been more exhausted from last night's activities than he previously thought as it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realise that fact that now that the previous Head of Special Operations had returned, Jazz would most likely be demoted. Meaning that they would no longer be of equal rank. And therefore unable to continue their arrangement.

The obvious solution of course would be for them to make an official declaration of their relationship to ensure that they would be permitted to keep sleeping with each other.

However for reasons that his processor could not provide, the idea of asking Jazz to be in an exclusive relationship made it feel as though the energon in his internals wanted to regurgitate back up his intake.

For a moment, he tried to determine if the twins could have spiked his energon without him noticing, when the deep baritone of the Prime's voice interrupted his theories.

"Reports can wait. First may I suggest that we all get a good night's rest." Optimus said, his suggestion clearly meant to be taken as an order.

High Command started to filter out of the med-bay, only Inferno and Red Alert remaining behind, the former to do his duty and the latter to keep them company.

Prowl overhead Elita say to Blackout that she had been assigned the agents old room but that she was happy to find alternative arrangements if Blackout wished the have it back.

As he left, Prowl thought about following Jazz back to his habsuite. But Prowl's room was in the opposite direction. Therefore so as to not arouse suspicions, it made sense for him to walk the other way.

Even though, the tiny illogical part of his processor wanted to take Jazz's hands, drag him to his hab and fall back into his embrace.

[littlesmokesceenfan]

Inferno was really like: "move out of the way Optimus and Ironhide this is my boyfriend I need to save"

[enigmatist17]

A cute hc that I read and accepted :)

---

Heatwave was happy to be heading to his home in Griffin Rock. As much as he enjoyed the missions Optimus assigned him occasionally, the small island with its accident-prone human populace had become his sanctuary. His latest mission had taken him to a few small towns in various countries for a few weeks longer than projected, and he was exhausted from the non-stop travel in his alt form. The firehouse was empty when he finally rolled in, and Heatwave just descended into the lower half of the building, yawning as he trudged to his berth and fell right into recharge.

His helm is being cradled when Heatwave eventually onlines, his chronometer noting he'd been out for just shy of 12 breems, which he'd been expecting. The servo gently cradling his faceplate was not expected, however, and Heatwave cycles his optics with a frown, ready to tell off whoever decided to touch him.

His vocalizer remains silent when his optics land on a familiar frame, someone he had figured long dead during his time in stasis.

"Creator?" It was the first time his voice had cracked, the rescue bot frozen as his creator smiled, azure optics that had watched over Heatwave from his creation until the day he'd left with his team lit up with pure joy. With a trembling servo the younger bot reached up, touching one wing-shaped finial with a soft click, cycling his optics off with a long and slow vent. "It's..."

"I'm here Heatwave, alive an' well." Inferno cooed to his creation with all the love he could pour into the words, smiling when he felt a hesitant tug to his spark. He responded with a nudge as Heatwave sat up, moving to hug Inferno as tight as he could manage while mumbling in their native tongue, deciding to be selfish for the first time in eons.

"When did you get here? How long have you been here?" The questions are laced with static as Heatwave does his best to repress the emotions rushing through his processor, the whirring of his creator's spark going a long way in settling frayed nerves.

"We arrived 'bout three mega-cycles ago, but got to yer island two solar-cycles ago." Heatwave pulled back with an optic ridge raised, and Inferno could only smile.

"We?"

"If yer willin' ta come upstairs, I know someone else who'd be happy to see you." Heatwave froze briefly before clambering off his berth like an excited sparkling, racing out of the room and up for the elevator as the older mech trailed behind. The rescue bot leader would have felt ashamed at leaving his creator behind, but as he ascends to the main floor, his spark reaches out for another. The voices trailing inside from the basketball court abruptly stop as Heatwave bolts for the hanger doors, not even remembering traveling the short distance before his optics land on a new bot standing amongst his team.

New for the humans, but old and painfully familiar to Heatwave. No one moved as the slightly shorter bot speaking with Chase took a step forward, a small spark of electricity curling up one of the horns on his helm and sparking into the air with a soft buzz.

"You've gotten taller." Another tendril of electricity crossed his horns as the bot approached Heatwave, the fire truck slowly offering one servo with a smile usually directed toward Cody.

"My alt mode is pretty big, like Creator's is." After a quick scan, the smaller bot took his offered servo, giving it a squeeze before reaching up to take Heatwave's faceplate into both hands.

"I am so relieved to see you alive and well." Heatwave's smile grew as he cycled his optics off for a moment, reveling in the touch as he felt Inferno finally join them, clearly pleased to see their small family back together again.

"I've missed you too Carrier, more than I can ever say." That's all it takes for Red Alert to fold, embracing his creation close with a soft series of clicks that Heatwave responded to in kind, an old song and dance none of them ever expected to do again. Inferno gently gathered his family into his arms, quietly thinking Primus that he and his bonded had been allowed this miracle after fighting for too long.

[fourphoenixfeathers]

Tags from @hotmothsummer

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE. I'm still very much cooking but I'll write down what I'm thinking so far.

I love these two so much. It's absolutely insane how the two bots least likely to trust anyone became partners, and while the show wouldn't upset the status quo so majorly, I really wanted to see Auto Berserk go a different way.

So Starscream is sick of Megatron's scrap, and getting abandoned on the battlefield was the last straw. Red Alert is on a hair trigger and thinks the autobots are going to take him apart for scraps. Starscream spots an opportunity!

He pulls Red Alert aside to hide him from the autobots and start his plotting and scheming. It's them two against the world now, and if they can get the negavator, no one will be able to stop them anymore. Starscream wants to finally be on top (but secretly he just wants to finally be safe) and Red Alert wants the security (even though his personality will always find something to be paranoid about). They need therapy your honor.

Starscream is in a pretty good place here! Red Alert isn't hard to manipulate, all Starscream has to do is play into his fears. It's free partner (but watch out)!

I have this vivid image in my head of Red Alert jumping at the slightest of sounds, interpreting anything and everything as a threat to him and his new partner. On one hand, it's kind of annoying to keep talking him down from a false alarm, but on the other... Starscream never had anyone by his side before who was so genuinely concerned for his safety. He's always had to look out for number one because no one else would. Skyfire was the only one who would, but even after he was found in the ice, that didn't last long. Uh oh, he's getting attached.

On Red Alert 's end, he's getting to see a completely different side of Starscream. The flaky SIC gets so much scrap for his cowardice and general gremlin behavior (not to mention how the autobots literally joke about the Megatron domestic abuse), but without the autobots or the decepticons around, Starscream is surprisingly competent. It'll definitely give him something to think about when his logic circuits aren't buzzing like bees on crack.

Then they capture the negavator. All the factions and the two defectors are in one high stakes fight. Red Alert's not doing too hot, Starscream wants to make sure he doesn't leave him for rejoin the autobots without stressing him out so much he explodes, and then Megatron chooses this moment to come in like the kool aid man.

It comes down to this: claim he was getting the weapon for Megatron... Or stick with Red Alert. The answer is obvious isn't it? Megatron will kill him if he doesn't get into his good graces immediately. But Starscream hesitates. The reason he got into this mess was that Megatron left him for dead even when he wasn't being actively traitorous. He's alive as long as he is useful, and even that isn't a guarantee. But for all his paranoia, Red never threatened Starscream's life.

Red Alert sees Starscream's hesitation, and for a moment he fears Starscream will betray him. He should have known not to trust the Decepticon notorious for his treachery. But Starscream instead calls for a tactical retreat for the defectors.

I'm a bit fuzzy on what happens next, but the gist of it is Starscream chose Red Alert over Megatron, and Red returns the favor. They are besties, do not separate. On one hand, I want Screamy to have more defector vacation bc there's no way he'd drop everything and join the autobots so easily. But at the same time, using his null ray to calm down Red Alert's overactive circuits is a temporary measure, and Red will have to get medical attention sooner or later, and when he does he will return to his own faction.

They are so star crossed. They worked so well together when they both acted as neutrals (ignoring the gaslighting. Shhhh it's my sandbox now I do what I want) but that can't last and it's 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺. Unless Starscream gets his head out of his tailpipe. Hence, I'm grabbing him by the throat and shoving him in the redemption bin. Somehow.

[evetronia]

I had a spurt of photography.

[auduux]

IT'S PRIDE MONTH TRANSFORMERS PEOPLE YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS (Please give me more miroah, whatever the ship name for jazz x prowl is, and whatever the ship name for inferno x red alert is PLEASEE 🙏)

[ultracreativelywritten]

Rodimus holds a Parent-Teacher meeting for the parents of the Post-war Sparklings.

[thermitereaction]

I always imagine Inferno's ears（？）are like those of animals or Pokemons

[spider-stark-loser]

More Transformers related stuff, I did a few next gens because well I was bored.

Also I choose the weirdest names for them, they might sound decent but I think only one has a weird name I honestly don't know

So far I did four, let's see in the future I dare myself to do more; also In my ask box I accept ship suggestions

[fenraheart]

writing my transformers ttrpg campaign I’m realizing I have all the power. I was writing some lore for megatron and I realized I could make megop canon. I haven’t decided if I will but I have the power to do it

[liveyun]

h a e g e u m | 01

banner by the lovely @archivededits ♡⁠˖

pairing. yoongi x female reader.

genre. mini series. crime au. angst. thriller(?). smut

w. (01) mentions of smoking, injuries, k*lling, corruption, injection (!!)

tags. @secfir

teaser | part 2

--

01. RED ALERT

--

She knew something was wrong when she looked at him in the CCTV footage frame by mind numbing frame,for the first time.

However, she her doubts were confirmed when she saw him—for the second time— in the alley near a collapsible gate—skinny, hunched,coated with crimson, smoking— and realised he was the danger rather than being in danger himself. The sort of danger which is fatal, the sort of danger which relishes in the blazing inferno.

The sort of fatal which increases your heartbeats, the sort of danger you know you're fucked up to feel your stomach churn with exictement. The sort of danger who was wanted all over the country, spreading his wings all over the nation with a rapid growth of that like a disease.

It fell upon her to banish the growth, and boy, it wasn't at all easy. It was the clash of opposite elements facing in a battlefield, the only difference being that there had been no swords and no bloodshed, well, not untill now.

Failures after failures. Injuries after injuries. Despair and despair, yet it felt all like a circus to him.

And the third time she saw him, was in her own custody, but she knew something about this man never changed ever since she first laid her eyes on him. Calm, cool and collected— somehow radiating off how much he's aware of his worth and how much of a pain in the ass he has been to finally get captured. But still, this was all but a game to him— something he plays everyday.

“didn't mean to kill the president, my bad. ”

His bloody wrists remains cuffed— she wonders silently if the cuffs burnt into his skin, for why his flesh seemed to be more than bruised, injuries were spread all over. But once again, that particular glint in his eyes told her that it was nothing new for him.

“ You didn't ? ” her reply comes back as a question, implied with a cool sentiment. His eyes rest somewhere down the table she's seated on, particularly on the gun that rests atop. However, his eyes slowly travels up to her own, and she is surpirsed to see how dark they are. The last time she saw them, they were…brown?

“ Remember to always have the lock on your gun always, officer. ”

“ Beating around the bush won't free you from here, D. ” a small laugh, a displeased one. A light exhale, and once again his eyes trailed down to anywhere but away from hers.

“ I always get away, officer. ”

His eyes flick to hers own, a certain hue of coldness flashing across. Maybe she was an officer, but the slightest of the shivers which ran down her spine was undeniable.

There was a thing to argue on : he was pretty. A criminal with a pretty face was dangerous, for why she sensed him as the danger in the first place. From the ridges of his brow to his feline shaped eyes, and the smooth skin had something to do with the carnal impulses this man had.

“ And how is that, if I may ask you?” No sardonic reply came back, not even a chuckle. His curled hair fell elegantly around his neck and forehead, and you wonder again if he knows how beautiful he is. You ponder that he does, the reason he's so cocky about himself in the first place.

“ You're rather nosy for a cop, officer. ”

“ It's my job to interrogate, D. ” And maybe this reply coaxed a small, harsh laugh at you, almost like a hiss. The atmosphere feels rather compelling for you, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the atrocious behaviour has a single intention, and that is to piss the system off.

His eyes suddenly dart up to your own, and you see the malice behind them, floating in subtle threats. His face, slowly comes your view, dried blood sticking to the corner of his mouth. And his lips quirk upwards so full of amusement, that it did feel like a laugh, but it perplexed you, because a rather alarming siren within a distance was heard. A single commotion had your whole office premises in shambles, because this notice meant a single thing.

Red alert.

The man infront of you didn't react much, and this is the first time you've been called to the red alert. The superior authorities had some difficult time to actually acknowledge that you had caught hold of this hoodlum, or rather the most wanted criminal in the whole Daegu, they were totally astounded in their chairs.

You are totally aware of how treacherous possibilities may occur, now. You did feel dubious when you realised it been way too long for his side to respond,and you must admit that red alert was something you did not expect in the least.

Your phone buzzed in your trouser pants, breaking you from the reverie you had trapped yourself in. Not breaking any eye contact with him, you receive your call.

Lieutenant Police.

“ Officer, we order you to release him, right now. ”

“ May I ask for a reason why? ”

“ You don't ask for a fucking reason why when you're given a red alert within your premises, do you ?”

the voice growls like a mad man, and that voice does not intimidate you, not at all. Even when you know that the red alert is the last warning an officer gets. More of a do or a.. die situation, where you have to do what they instruct, or..

…your straw that you may not survive, and if you do, you'll no longer be accepted as an police officer. The situation is way too dangerous to keep hostage criminals like him,but it's been forty eight hours since you've captured him. Red alerts chime within four hours.

That means you're in grave danger.

Isn't he sitting infront of you already?

“ I still stand regard to my question, Lieutenant. ”

“ The Min Orphanage will break down our department if you don't fucking release the man right now. ”

Min orphanage ?

The man's brows pinch all of a sudden, the only sort of emotion other than sarcasm he has ever let out since. Do you see a flash of..concern in his features?

Your brain refuses to work, because in what actual ways would be a notorious criminal like him, connected to an orphanage, that too in such a way, that it seems like the orphanage is more inclined towards him? Your own brow pinches as you hear a sigh from the other side of the call.

“ Officer, you maybe are yet to realise how much in danger you're in, right now. ”

“ I’m just seeking for answers which have been unspoken and unapproached since, Lieutenant. ”

“ If you do not release him.. ”

there's a sickening silence which follows. However, you can hear chaos from the other side which is rare, because the upper departments are supposed to have a pin drop silence. His eyes never leave your own, and the ticking down of water droplets as Mother Nature starts pouring her soul out, you feel a light throb at the back of your head. His eyes are challenging, captivating, ironic because you're his capturer now.

He's intriguing in so many ways than one.

“ They're all little children here, and in no way we can take any particular option even if you had something on your mind, officer. ”

Another reaction. A light, unamused snort.

Another commotion. Muffled screams and yells are constantly changing their paces as you hear shuffling, and suddenly you're hearing vigorous panting from the other side, and a much older voice.

“ ____, I ORDER YOU TO RELEASE HIM, RIGHT NOW. ”

a voice you never expected to hear, not atleast now.

“ Supreme, he's a threat. A real danger if he's let out—”

“ you. are. ordered to let him go right now, because I absolutely cannot risk my team to sail closer to the wind because of your cheap ego. ”

his voice trembled with rage, and your throat feels dry to hear the screams echoing inwards to your own room. Bangs of gunshots and panicked screams as you hear the snaps of fire outside, most likely advancing towards your own room, now. Silent gangs like these get vigorous at times like these.

Cheap ego.

If your ego is cheap and this situation is playing with fire, you'd rather chose to burn your money to that burning whirls of arrogance. This wasn't easy, it wasn't easy to achieve the victory over the challenging, yet collected eyes of the gangster infront of you. If your team, or rather those puppets who shamelessly dance along to the beat they're instructed to, you'd wholeheartedly admit, that you were the only reason why he's here. Infront of you.

Alas, let people call you selfish and self centred, but you've learnt in this struggling world that if you're not so, you'd be used and thrown around like a rag full of holes. And even if your position is at stake, your years of hardwork going to vain because of this menace infront of you— you cannot help but risk that if you've reached till this far, you will ace your goals. You cannot be a sore loser in the end.

“ I’m not letting him free. ”

Silence, but chaos.

“ You're terminated from your position, Miss ___. ”

The call ended.

And so did your dignity as a police officer.

You close your eyes for a moment. You feel sick; it meant that you were no longer in charge of his custody, the head of your team, and no longer an official. No body would give a fuck if you make out of here alive, or if your dead body is dumped somewhere and you rot. No one would care.

You were ready for this exactly the moment you heard the sirens,but however maybe you weren't totally ready to acknowledge that. Your hands feel clammy by the time you put your phone on the table, and the unpleasant feeling of your hair sticking to your neck is creepy. You sigh, your whole life dedicated to your career was shattered by the system, just because you were inclined for the safety of your people..

..or maybe because you were just a mere puppet, too.

..or maybe you're blinded by anger to actually come out of your haze and take care of what's happening, but it's of no use; you're partially bounded.

“ Wouldn't that be a crime if you'd hit me now, officer? ”

his voice echoed in your ears, and the officer in the end hit you like a pan on your head. He sounded all collected and cool: much to the contradiction to the inner turmoil you were going through. Anger courses in your veins to see his bleeding lips quirk upwards at your misery, but again..is he really the one to blame?

He got what he wanted, the system got ehat they wanted, and even if you're reluctant to see anything else, you know you're the loser here. A sore loser. Indignation rises in your chest as you take a look at him, your head suddenly feeling lighter than usual. Your throat burns to speak, and your heart thrums in it's cage.

“ Thank you, D. ”

“ It'd be better if you start your countdown now, officer. ” his voice is barely a whisper as now there's a sudden throb in your head, and his voice a mere croak by the time you gasp to fill in air inside your lungs. Silence, it's a wicked silence as the murmurs deepen.

Your jaw clenches as you feel the sting, an overwhelming sting, your limbs feel numb, and the wider your eyes open, the blurrier it seems now. The room spins, as the yells increase and the rifles scream, they all turn to a crestfallen murmur.

Is this your end?

Your throat hurts, hurts, and its just an outline of his wrists, cuffed wrists, the mop of black hair, your identity card on the table, his wrists..something held within..what, what.. Your head ducks down in an immediate effort to get a better look, but lolls away immediately, too weak and throbbing to work, and everything goes black.

But screw that, you didn't see the injection needle pricking the skin of your thigh as he injects the whole of the syringe into your system skillfully with his thumb, his eyes burning with rage. The same shit eating grin on his lips, as he sticks his tongue out to lick the dried blood on his mouth.

“ You're welcome, officer. ”

[minniethemoocherda]

Across This New Divide

This will be a Masterpost to links of all the Transformers fanfics in my Across This New Divide series. All of them are set within the same continuity, with Iridescent being the main fic. But each fic can be read individually. They are set in a mostly G1 inspired but non-specific continuity. Ao3 and FF.net links are bellow but you should be able to find them on my tumblr blog as well if you search the tag Iridescent. I hope you guys enjoy them! Xxxxxxxx

Iridescent When Jazz is promoted to Head of Special Operations, the last thing he expected was to have to work with a face from his past. Ao3 FF.net

Give Me Reason If Red Alert could go to their therapy sessions for Inferno, take their medication for Inferno and be willing to die for Inferno, then the least they could do was to try going to one of his stupid Chess Club games for him too. Ao3 FF.net

Five Times Sunstreaker Didn't Tell Bluestreak What he Wanted to Say, Plus One Time that he Did. Sunstreaker wasn't sure if Bluestreak remembered their first meeting. To be fair he could barely remember it himself. But what Sunstreaker could never forget, was the beauty of that smile. Ao3 FF.net

Connect This Space Between "PRIME! YOUR SPARKLING IS CURRENTLY OVERCHARGED ON HIGHGRADE IN MY MEDBAY!" Ao3 FF.net Falling Into Empty Space It would be improper for his fellow Autobots to see their leader debauched against the walls of the Ark by their Second in Command, so Optimus Prime tried his best to keep his hands to himself as he allowed Elita-One to tug him towards his quarters. As always, he failed. Ao3 FF.net

[srim01997]

Second Change| Aemond T. X OFC

Paring:  Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Aemond Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Implied Aegon II Targaryen x Celtigar! OFC

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Slight NSFW, Impregnant mentioned, Crispin being Crispin

Writer’s note: I tried to find that aemond gif lololo

Please ilke, comment and reblog!!

Previous Chapter | Second Chance masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter 10 The wh*re of Red Keep

Viseara arrived on the battlefield, her figure barely visible from Aemond’s vantage point atop his dragon. Even from the distance, he could tell she was gravely injured from defending House Celtigar’s castle. The two dragons, one massive and one smaller but fierce, circled in preparation to clash, their riders issuing commands.

“Angōs, Nyx! (Attack, Nyx!) / Drakarys!”

The grayish-blue dragon roared defiantly, launching itself at the larger Vhagar with fearless determination. The sky lit up with fire so intense that soldiers below were forced to shield their eyes or scatter to avoid the inferno. Flames erupted from the mouths of both beasts, consuming everything in their path. Despite her experience as a dragonrider, Viseara’s disadvantage became evident. Vhagar’s sheer size and cunning overshadowed the smaller, valiant Nyx.

Nyx faltered, its neck caught in Vhagar’s jaws. Black blood sprayed like rain, scalding soldiers on the ground who screamed in agony. Viseara gripped her reins tightly as her dragon began to plummet. Her mismatched eyes caught sight of Vhagar diving after her, and she could barely make out Aemond shouting something over the roaring wind. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as her ears rang, rendering his words unintelligible.

She saw his gloved hand reaching for her, desperate and unyielding, before darkness engulfed her. Somewhere in the void, she thought she heard someone crying and felt the warmth of tears falling onto her face.

Viseara jolted awake just before dawn, her body aching from the aftermath of their passionate night. She shifted carefully, her limbs still tingling. The evidence of their union remained: the sticky warmth on her thighs and the soreness deep in her core. Grabbing a cloth, she dipped it into water and cleaned herself thoroughly, ensuring no trace remained.

Slipping back into the nightgown Aemond had stripped off her the night before, she walked to the balcony. The first rays of sunlight painted the horizon as she gazed out, lost in thought. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, startling her. Aemond was awake.

“Good morning, Viseara,” he murmured, no longer addressing her with the formal Aunt. The young prince, clad only in loose trousers, stood bare-chested behind her, his eyepatch absent in their privacy. “You left me alone in bed.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

“When will you call me by my name? No—last night you screamed it until your voice gave out when I—”

“If you say one more word, I’ll kick you out of this room,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing at his audacity. She couldn’t deny the volume of their cries last night likely alerted everyone in the castle. Glancing at the bed, the soiled sheets bore testimony to their deeds. She pitied the maid who would have to clean the mess. “Are you feeling better now?”

She almost forgot he had been drugged the night before. But by whom?

“Aemond… Who drugged you?”

The one-eyed prince collapsed onto the bed, massaging his temples as if piecing together the events of the previous evening. After a moment, he spoke. “I drank tea given to me by Cassandra Baratheon. Not long after, I felt strange—almost lost control and pounced on her, but I managed to stop myself and came to you—”

“So you decided to unleash it on me instead?!” Viseara groaned, throwing his shirt at him. “Get dressed and go back to your room before your mother realizes you’ve been here—”

Before she could finish, Aemond sprang to his feet and captured her lips in a fervent kiss. She didn’t resist as his tongue sought hers, his hands pulling her closer. In moments, she found herself perched on the desk, his tall frame slotting between her legs.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, smirking. “If I hadn’t been under the influence last night, I’d have taken you somewhere other than the bed.”

Her palm smacked against his chest, the hard muscle beneath her hand reminding her of how much he’d grown. Meeting his gaze, she tilted her head up to kiss him again, guiding his hand beneath her nightgown. “See how much of a mess you made?”

“It’s still warm enough for me to enter again…”

“I’m sore.”

“I know…” Aemond murmured, nuzzling her neck as his hands began to unlace his trousers—

The sound of the door creaking open froze them both. Viseara’s children stood in the doorway, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief as they took in the compromising scene: their cousin and their mother, both partially undressed.

Scrambling to fix her clothing, Viseara turned to face them, cheeks aflame. “I can explain.”

Now, Viseara and Aemond sat side by side at the edge of the bed while Aenys, Maeria, and Elia stood before them with scrutinizing gazes. Aenys, the eldest son of the Rogue Princess, directed his sharp words at his cousin, who wore an annoyingly innocent expression.

"You slept with my mother, Aemond?" Aenys demanded, his tone icy. "You lay with her knowing she's my mother!"

"I know," Aemond admitted calmly, meeting the older cousin's piercing stare. "And I love her."

"How many times?" Aenys pressed, his voice rising. "How many times have you done this with my mother?"

"Quite a few," Aemond replied nonchalantly. "Sometimes she comes to me, but mostly, I come to her room."

Maeria and Elia exchanged wide-eyed looks, utterly speechless at their cousin's candid confession. Maeria, the eldest daughter, raised a hand to her mouth, stunned. She couldn't believe that this particular cousin, who had always shown disdain for marriage alliances, had been so consumed by their mother. It was not uncommon for Targaryens to marry within the family—siblings, cousins, or relatives of similar age—but an aunt-nephew relationship was far less frequent.

If this cousin became their stepfather, it would be utterly unsettling.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Maeria asked cautiously.

"Larys knew," Aemond replied flatly, "but he's dead now, so his loose tongue is no longer a concern. Don't worry; I plan to marry your mother."

"That’s not the point!" Aenys shot back. "You’re betrothed to Lord Baratheon’s daughter, yet you’ve been sneaking into my mother’s bed—"

"I am not betrothed," Aemond interrupted, his voice hardening. "I will not marry anyone except Viseara."

At that moment, Aenys wished his uncle Daemon could hear how desperately the one-eyed prince wanted to wed his mother. Aenys's mind raced with questions—had his mother become pregnant? Aemond showed no remorse for his actions, sitting there as though everything was perfectly acceptable. The Celtigar heir spoke in a measured tone.

"At least the Baratheon girl is closer to your age," Aenys said, glaring. "Your grandfather and mother will never—"

"Then I’ll take her to Dragonstone or one of the Free Cities and have a priest marry us," Aemond declared with a smirk. "In nine months, you might even have a new sibling."

"You!" Aenys lunged at Aemond, but the three women quickly intervened, pulling the two apart. Viseara’s voice cut through the tension.

"Aemond, how could you say such things?" she chided. "I’m too old to bear children."

"I know," Aemond replied, placing a firm hand on her lower stomach. "But what if you already are, and you don’t realize it yet?"

"I drank moon tea after you left my bed, Aemond."

"Seven hells, if I get a new sibling now, I’ll throw myself off the battlements," Aenys groaned dramatically.

Elia cleared her throat. "Let’s focus on the real issue. Lady Baratheon is furious because Aemond disappeared. She claims—or rather, insists—that he abandoned her after taking her maidenhood—"

"I did no such thing!" Aemond’s voice thundered, then steadied as he explained. "I was drugged and came straight to your mother—"

"Drugged?" Maeria interjected. "Cassandra Baratheon, of all people, drugged you? That woman is too dimwitted to pull something like that off unless someone gave her the means."

"There aren’t many who could make such a potion," Aemond said, rubbing his temples.

"And you were foolish enough to accept a drink from someone you barely know," Maeria said, narrowing her eyes. "It’s a miracle it wasn’t poison, or you’d be feasting with the Stranger instead of sitting here with my mother."

"Maeria," Aenys cut in, confused. "How do you know it was Cassandra?"

"Do I have to deal with both a dense brother and a clueless cousin?" Maeria sighed.

"Maeria!"

"Apologies, Mother," she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Here’s what I know: I overheard Maris complaining about how she didn’t want to marry Aemond because of his missing eye. As for Ellyn, she’s been flirting with Aenys—"

"Hey!" Aenys protested. "I was merely being polite to her."

"Think carefully," Elia chimed in. "Which is worse: Aemond being accused of abandoning Lady Baratheon, or the entire Red Keep finding out that Aemond and Mother have been sharing a bed?"

"Considering how loud it was last night, I’d say everyone already knows," Aenys muttered, shooting a glare at Aemond. "And you’re not even sorry!"

"I am sorry, cousin," Aemond said, his smirk returning. "Sorry that I’ll be doing it again."

He was pulled from his reverie of last night’s escapades by a knock at the door and a servant’s voice.

"Prince Aemond, Princess Viseara—Queen Alicent requests your presence."

“Seven hells”

Alicent tried to comfort Cassandra, who continued her theatrical sobbing beside her. The queen’s dark eyes scanned the people entering the hall. She strode forward and slapped her son hard enough to make his face turn. Viseara quickly interjected.

"You should hear him out first, Your Grace—"

"He violated her and then disappeared to be with you. He must take responsibility for this," Alicent said, her voice heavy with disappointment as she looked at her son. "I never raised you to behave this way."

Viseara noticed the defiant glint in Aemond’s single eye and quickly spoke up.

"Your son was drugged, Your Grace. It was an aphrodisiac, the kind used in brothels. How Lady Baratheon came into possession of such a substance, I do not know. Perhaps from one of the Maesters?"

"Or perhaps someone gave it to her," the rogue princess suggested, tilting her head. "Don’t you think that if it had been poisoned instead, you and your family might now face charges of attempting to assassinate the royal family?"

"I... I can’t say," Cassandra stammered, avoiding the rogue princess’s piercing gaze. "But the person who gave it to me said it would help me win the prince’s favor. I didn’t mean to drug him, and… he got up and left. He didn’t… violate me."

At that moment, the queen felt as if the world was crumbling around her. Her second son didn’t want to marry, the issue with Lady Baratheon was unresolved, and now Viseara was involved in this scandal. The rogue princess continued.

"That night, he was with me, and I—"

"I lay with her," Aemond declared unapologetically. "I didn’t violate Lady Baratheon that night because I went to my aunt’s chambers, as you all heard."

The rogue princess wanted to scream. That wasn’t part of her plan! She had been trying to help cover up Aemond’s indiscretion, not throw gasoline onto an already blazing fire.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ser Criston murmuring something, and she caught the words "Red Keep harlot." Her hand twitched toward her sword, but Aemond’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Ser Criston, what did you just call Princess Viseara?" Aemond’s sharp gaze locked onto the Kingsguard knight, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "Say it again."

"I said nothing, Your Grace," Criston replied flatly.

"Such a liar. Not that I’m accusing you, Ser Criston," Viseara quipped with a smirk before turning to Alicent. "So, Your Grace, what will you do about this?"

The queen inhaled deeply, then spoke. "Princess Viseara, I must admit this is a difficult decision. But I beg to discuss this matter with you privately after this issue is resolved."

Viseara spent several hours in her chambers after the heated discussion between Lord Baratheon, Otto, and Alicent about how to handle the scandal. The best solution to quell the rumors surrounding Aemond and the rogue princess seemed to be sending Viseara to Dragonstone or the Silent Sisters. But such a move might result in an outcome similar to Princess Saera’s, or worse, Daemon might burn King’s Landing to the ground. The Dragonstone option was deemed the lesser evil.

The rogue princess arrived at Dragonstone on the back of her dragon, greeted by none other than Daemon. The rogue prince frowned as he noticed servants unloading her luggage and belongings from the ship.

Before he could speak, she raised a finger. "Don’t ask."

"If you don’t want to explain, fine. Welcome to Dragonstone, dear sister," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Don’t worry, you won’t starve. Just don’t touch my lady’s lemon cakes."

"Better guard your wine, or it’ll vanish bottle by bottle," she retorted.

For months, she settled into Dragonstone, finding solace in her twin brother’s mischievous grin. But something still felt missing, though she chose not to dwell on it.

Aenys remained by his mother’s side, while Elia stayed with Aegon as his wife and Maeria, as Alicent’s handmaiden, could not follow Viseara.

Though banished to Dragonstone, Viseara had no intention of fading into obscurity. She predicted that in three or four months, Vaemond would seize the opportunity to challenge Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark while Corlys was still recovering. If successful, House Velaryon’s fleet would fall to the Greens, and Daemon would inevitably kill Vaemond in the throne room.

Her role now was to navigate the coming storm, knowing full well the stakes at play. If she wanted to ensure Rhaenyra’s ascension to the Iron Throne, she would have to be ready for the real battle ahead.

TBC.

[ny000mdraws]

Do you have any plans for Deadlock/Drift? And can we see some Red Alert x Inferno x Firestar, pls?🙏🏻

I don’t, no. Mainly because he’s already in the Aligned universe and I like him as is. But I did make two designs of him back in 2022, one that’s more inspired by MTMTE Deadlock (and meant to be his own separate character) and another that’s meant to be Pre-RiD15 Drift/ Deadlock.

But who knows? If enough people want me to, I can work on these again.

And here’s TFP AU Red Alert x Inferno x Firestar that I definitely didn’t give up on and also not one sketch has all three together.