#Leisure Alliance

[panicinthestudio]

Further reading:

HKFP: Hong Kong pulls more democracy books from library shelves citing security law concerns, May 10, 2021

HKFP: Hong Kong gov’t refuses to say which library books are banned under national security law, April 7, 2022

[yesimwriting]

Understanding

Part 2:  Untethered  

A/n the reader in this is not the same reader as the one from my aemond fic, they just have a similar background for plot (and bc i love rhaenyra's child x alicent's child trope, it's so montagues and capulets)

Summary: After speaking to his mother and small council, Aegon begins to doubt the unspoken understanding between himself and Rhaenyra's intended heir, who agreed to be taken by the greens in exchange for her brother's life.

Warnings: there are some plot deviations (mainly the implication that aegon and helaena are not married), the whole ethical 'dating someone you're technically holding hostage' dilemma, and canon compliant incest

----

The groan of the floorboards takes its time floating through your apartments, the sound so soft you don't even stir.

Aegon sighs. You've been a ridiculously heavy sleeper since childhood. He can still recall the way you'd leave these very apartments for breakfast, hair unbrushed and eyes drowsy. He dismisses the thought as he takes another step forward. You're no longer a princess with the luxury of leisure. You're staying in what you consider 'enemy territory'. One would think you'd have the decency to struggle to find sleep. If nothing else, the decency to miss him.

He swallows. Thoughts of the corner of your mouth tugging itself into a smile you didn't mean to share, of your gentle whispers felt more than heard in the darkness, of the warmth of your fingertips dragging against his skin have plagued him since he left you this morning. Aegon has not been able to release you from his mind, and here you are, perfectly content without him in a room you are only allowed access to because of his favor.

If you continue to indulge her, she'll never feel like a prisoner. The echo of his mother's words feel sharper than they should, a needle piercing his chest. Aegon had originally dismissed the sentiment. Despite the complicated nature of your presence here, the two of you have found a sort of rhythm. An inconvenient understanding.

So what if he offers you privileges that none of his half-sister's children should be allotted? You dismiss your instincts in favor of being there for him in a way no one else is. You talk; and you listen; and you lay next to him in the dark, your fingers tracing patterns against his arm until you fall asleep.

Aegon had never felt affronted by the casualness of your unspoken arrangement until his mother brought him back to reality. As long as you allow her to exist in this in between without asking for anything in return, she will remain loyal to her mother. A mother who is desperate enough to marry her off to secure alliances.

The floor creeks as he takes another step forward, this time the sound less dismissible. You shift, body twisting as you move from your stomach onto your side.

A pinprick of something akin to guilt dulls the beginning of his spiral. You mumble a sound that feels like a question. Aegon studies your movements as you wipe at your eyes. You lift your head slightly, eyes squinting in the darkness.

"Aegon?" Your features seem to ease, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as you lift your head. "I didn't think you had time for me tonight."

There's a gentleness to your voice that leaves his stomach in knots. He's lapped at your affection like a wounded dog finally stumbling onto water. Has it all been a ploy?

If his silence affects your disposition, you give no indication of it. Instead, you beam at him before allowing yourself to slump onto your back. You pull at the blankets in an attempt to create space for him.

Aegon keeps his back to you as he sits. He takes his time laying down, one of his arms resting in the space between the two of you. Still half asleep, you reach for him. The back of your palm brushes against his wrist. You turn your hand over, fingers beginning their familiar path up his arm.

His eyes remain open, his attention set on the ceiling. You've yet to finish outlining his forearm before Aegon's turning his arm. The shift is subtle, more of an implication than an actual attempt at dismissing you. The subtlety of the movement is not enough to prevent your reaction. Despite his jokes and teasing comments, Aegon knows better than to do anything that offers you an opportunity to overthink about your your time alone together. There's a moment of stillness, and then your hand leaves him.

You turn onto your side, the weight of your stare making it nearly impossible for Aegon to remain still. "Are you--are you alright?" The question is cautious, tinged by an uncertainty that makes you sound smaller than you ever have before.

Have you ever experienced any type of rejection before? You're Rhaenyra's first born, her intended heir. The beloved princess, doted on by your mother, cared for by your supposed father, spoiled by your grandsire. His father's illness was never enough to keep him from you, the only child he had the strength to get out of bed for. You don't know what it's like to long for anything.

"We had an arrangement--an agreement." Aegon pushes himself away from you as he sits. You prop your head up, staring at him. Aegon cannot bring himself to look into your eyes. "That I'd be honest with you, and you'd be honest with me."

You sit up. "What?" You bend your knees, the sheets slipping down your legs. Aegon presses his nails into the skin of his palm. "I've--I've been honest. I've never lied to you."

The defense comes out so quick and innocent it nearly strips the accusation of any weight. It's a response that'd better suit a child caught stealing extra sweets or rough housing with a younger sibling.

He finally turns his head. The room's lack of light is not enough to diminish your wide eyes. You're radiating such innocence Aegon could choke on it. He's reminded of why he kept you at arm's length throughout your childhood. The good, perfect daughter. The future heir.

"You said your mother had no intentions of marrying you off. That you were not betrothed--"

"I'm not."

Aegon lets out a breath. "Then why did I have to spend most of my evening listening to my small council discuss your mother's latest potential alliances and addressing rumors about your mother's plan to marry you to some lord as a way of securing their support?"

You're quiet for a moment, hands clasped tightly around your knees. "I cannot help rumors." Some odd feeling gnaws at Aegon's stomach. "And you know that I haven't been home in some time. I can't control my mother anymore than you can control yours."

What a politically appropriate answer. He scoffs. "I find it difficult to believe that your mother would ever use you as a bargaining chip without--at the very least--mentioning it to you first."

If there's one thing that doesn't come naturally to you, it's deception. You tilt your chin downwards, your attention falling onto anything that isn't him.

Aegon reaches for your hand. You let him untangle your fingers. He pulls your hand forward, his thumb dragging against your knuckles. His hold on you tightens as he brings the back of your palm to his lips. A part of him is repulsed by how much he means the gesture.

He doesn't let go of you as he brings his hand back to the mattress. Aegon allows himself a moment to embrace the stillness, and then he's shifting forward. His available hand finds your shoulder. His weight presses against you, forcing you back until you're pinned against the headboard.

He holds his breath, waiting for some kind of protest, some insult or attempt to push him away. All you do is watch him, the slightest crease between your eyebrows. "Aegon."

"Tell me." Aegon's fingers press into your shoulder. "Tell me it isn't true and I will believe you. I want to believe you."

Your lips part, but you do not speak. An uncomfortable heat burns its way up his neck. "I--I did not lie." You hold his gaze. "I am not betrothed, but before I was brought here, my mother did mention that she was beginning to consider it."

All of the time he's spent indulging in your presence, living out some ridiculous fantasy of having your attention, believing everything you've told him--he's been nothing more than a fool.

"I wanted to mention it when you asked, but I was..." Your voice wavers. "Honestly, I was afraid."

His gaze falls downwards, his eyes unintentionally landing on your lips. "Because you needed me."

"No." You shake your head slightly, the motion rigid. "Our understanding," you pause, lips briefly pressing together, "Our friendship, was so new and uncertain--and I was afraid of ruining it, of being alone here, of--of the potential engagement. All of it." Your eyes are shinier than they were a moment ago. "I wanted to pretend it didn't exist."

This is the first time you've ever given any indication of not naturally taking to your responsibilities. You agreed to be taken hostage in exchange for your brother's life with little complaint or theatrical martyrism, but the thought of marrying a stranger to aid your mother's war effort shakes you to your core.

Sympathy and petulant satisfaction blend together uneasily, a continuation in the cycle of wanting you while also desiring to take everything from you.

His thumb drags down your shoulder, the warmth of your skin nearly dizzying. "Would you do it if she asked?"

You swallow. "It wouldn't matter. I'm here." He continues to trace a pattern against your shoulder. You squeeze his hand. "You can't have a wedding without the bride."

You're holding onto him with an intensity that's easing. "And if you weren't?"

As silence falls over the two of you, Aegon studies your expression. You're giving him very little to work with. "I wouldn't have a choice." Anything you've had with him has been out of the sake of convenience. It doesn't matter to you. "Aegon, you--you understand that." His lips part, but he has no response worth giving. "You have to understand that."

Aegon's hold on your hand tightens, fingers digging into into the skin of your palm. "Why?" The desperation in the question turns his stomach. He shifts his weight away from you, his hand trailing down your arm. "Do you care for me?"

Your straighten, back pulling away from the headboard. Aegon cannot will himself to read your features. "Do I care for you?" There's a barely there lilt to your voice that only makes it impossible for him to just sit there.

He forces himself to focus on the crumpled sheets in front of him. Something warm finds its way to his cheek--your hand. Your thumb drags itself across the side of his face. Aegon allows his eyes to fall shut. Gently, you guide his head forward.

"Aegon." He opens his eyes. "How many times have I been alone with you, have I--have I slept in the same bed as you?" You stumble, eyes briefly leaving his. Aegon can't help his slight smile. While you've always known about the impropriety of sleeping next to him, he doubts you know why it's viewed that way. You let out a breath in an attempt to recover. "I have risked my reputation, risked betraying my own mother--and you have to ask."

Aegon's vision blurs. He presses his lips together, forcing himself to not look away. "Of course I care for you."

He places a hand over the one you placed on his cheek. There's a lot of responses that Aegon should offer you, some declaration, some assurance of his fondness for you, but he's never been particularly talented at expressing the sentimental.

His fingers bend around your own, carefully pulling your hand away from his cheek. He sets your hand down on the mattress gently. You blink at him curiously, but before you can overthink the action, Aegon's shifting forward.

He presses his lips against yours. You're rigid, body still until he pulls your bottom lip between both of his. Aegon moves closer, one hand finding the back of your head. You lean forward, arms wrapping around his neck. You move your weight onto your knees, Aegon's available hand coming to your waist to keep you stable.

Aegon's head tilts back, creating space that you're more than ready to fill. His teeth tug at your bottom lip. You hands slide away from his neck, down his shoulders, settling on his chest. Aegon's hand moves away from your hip, coming to rest on your thigh.

The need for air brings him back to reality. Aegon breaks the kiss slowly, pulling away without letting you go. For a moment, all he can do is grin at you as you both catch your breath. "If I had known you had it in you, Princess..."

The use of your title seems to make you realize that you're still practically on his lap. You move back, making a point of sitting up straight. You roll your eyes, but between your ragged breaths and inability to lift your gaze, the look falls flat.

You keep your legs between the two of you, a barrier that bends at your knees. Aegon's smile broadens. He's not sure he's ever seen you so unsure of yourself. "I--that wasn't..."

"You can relax." You finally look up again, eyebrows drawn together in what he assumes is a display of skepticism. "I won't tell anyone." His hand find your lower leg, fingers tracing a delicate pattern against your skin. "And if anyone accuses you of anything, I'll have their tongue."

He sets his hand against your knee, his touch growing in security. You stare at your leg incredulously. "Aegon."

"What?" His thumb trails across your skin. "Would you prefer their head?"

You tilt your head, expression unamused. Aegon smiles, leaning forward to place a quick kiss against your knee before moving towards his original spot. You turn your head, watching him carefully.

Aegon lets out a sigh as he sinks into a pillow. "I'm tired."

You lay down next to him. "I didn't realize I wore you out."

The grin in your voice is audible. Aegon uses his forearm for support as he lifts himself to lean over you. "Do not start something you can't finish."

The corner of your mouth pulls itself upwards, the look similar but not quite the same as the accidental smiles Aegon has grown accustomed to. He smiles as he lies down, his head resting against your upper stomach.

You're quick to accept the proximity, your hand moving to smooth through his hair. Aegon's arm settles against your waist. This newfound closeness is nearly overwhelming in the relief it offers him. The feeling grabs at him, forcing out words he is not ready to say, "We could always get married." He tries to swallow, but the dryness of his mouth makes it impossible. "Then your mother wouldn't be able to marry you off to anyone."

Your fingers stall against his scalp. "Aegon--"

"I'd be a good husband to you."

At your silence, his fingers press into your side as if you might slip away if given the chance. After a beat, your nails begin to brush through his hair again. "You are thinking of the war, of your claim, of--of your small cou--"

"I am thinking of you."

You let out a sigh Aegon feels more than hears. "We need to be realistic. Would my mother's retaliation not concern you?"

He forces himself to focus on your tangibility. "The only thing concerning me is figuring out how to keep you here as long as possible." He drags his knuckles against your hip. "You once told me that you'd never get married, and that instead you'd spend your life riding dragons and eating cake."

You let out a soft laugh. "I can't believe you remember that."

"You sounded very serious." Aegon releases your side in favor of finding your hand. His fingers trace patterns against your palm. "We could get married and spend our days riding dragons and eating cake."

Your drag your hand away from his head, palm settling against his back. You begin to smooth circles against the fabric of his shirt. "Now you be serious."

Aegon intertwines your fingers, squeezing your palm to his. "I know better than to jest about cake."

You're so quiet he'd assume you fell asleep if it wasn't for the patterns still being traced against his spine. "Can we just...can we give it some time?"

He's not sure what you expect to get from time. The realm will still be divided, his half-sister will only grow more desperate and willing to marry you off for support, and his mother will continue to question why he's keeping you in this limbo. But the request is far from a rejection.

You've always been practical, the kind of person to think through prospects instead of trusting your instinct. Aegon is your best option, the closest thing you have to a lifeline. The way you feel about him has already encouraged you to cross lines you would have never considered approaching. Perhaps time and his attention will be what it takes to put it all into perspective for you.

Aegon lifts your hand to his mouth, his lips brushing against your knuckles. "We can give it all the time you need, Princess."

You mumble something he can't quite make out. Before Aegon can ask about it, your hand stills against him. Without looking up, he knows that you've fallen asleep.

----

A/n i had to throw in a little alicent and rhaenyra parallel <3 i could see myself writing a part 2 to this so if you like that idea lmk!! or if u want more hotd in general :)

[crazerk]

When you find yourself among the few women chosen to become a concubine in the Imperial harem, you have a chance to carve your place in court.

The life of a concubine might seem luxurious and idyllic, but behind the silken curtains of the harem, dangerous games are played. Games where the wrong words will cost your life, betrayal, lies and secrets are commonplace and gaining the shah’s attention is paramount to your survival.

Start out as a princess, disgraced noble or captive.

Intrigue, intrigue and more intrigue.

Dramatic events on par with a soap opera

Revenge, backstabbing, forbidden love, plots and more.

Rise the ranks by outsmarting or eliminating your rivals.

Produce and raise heirs to secure your place.

Influence politics through the emperor or seize power for yourself.

Learn fire magic or join a cult of chaos.

Live a life of leisure and the pursuit of higher education or a life of hedonism.

Inspired by the Sassanid dynasty and Persian mythology.

Shah Khazunef

He is calm, perspective and far less ruthless than his father before him but they share the same cunning nature and intimidating aura. Khazunef has deep brown skin, dark hazel eyes and silky mid length black hair that frames his face perfectly.

Fang

A former slave whose fighting prowess earned him freedom. He has since become a close friend of Khazunef and they regard each other as brothers. He serves as an informal advisor and spy to the shah but shirks any formal duties. Fang is charismatic and extroverted with copper red hair, rose skin and blue eyes.

Persa

Her name means dove and fits her gentle demeanor. She was raised a princess in a land of mountains and snow that was conquered by Shah Arzad. Upon the fall of her city and murder of her family, she was brought to the capital to serve in the palace. She has honey blonde hair, dark brown eyes and alabaster skin.

Ignasia

Ignasia is a fire priestess and staunch follower of the faith. Although born a noble, she gave up all claims and titles to serve in the fire temples as a guardian of the eternal flame. Ignasia has dark hair, darker eyes and a regal, reserved bearing.

Valide Zarayan

She is the ruthless and ambitious mother of Khazunef, originally a distrusted foreigner who rose to great power in the court of Shah Arzad. She rules over the harem like her own little kingdom and holds influence over her son.

Shahbanu Yaris

The wife of Khazunef and shahbanu of the realm. Yaris wed the emperor when he was 17 and she 26 in an alliance that strengthened the empire and influences it to this day.

Vizier Rubien

The grand vizier and advisor to the Emperor who Khazunef considers a father figure. Rubien is fiercely intelligent, loyal and wise. He remains dedicated to his work and helping the Emperor rule justly.

Averus

Averus is a high priest and soothsayer of the court. His advice is sought by all and a bad word about you from his lips can sully your reputation and relationships beyond repair.

Consort Iltani

Former consort and favorite of Shah Arzad. Her name is whispered like a curse, and her influence spreads far wide even though the valide has her currently imprisoned within the palace.

This story is for mature audiences, please proceed with discretion! Story will contain violence, drugs, alcohol, death, suicide, infanticide, harm to animals, miscarriages, abuse and sexual themes.

Demo

[redheadspark]

Divine

Summary - Azriel and his mate find each other again during alone time

Warnings - SMUT! SMUT SMUT SMUT!! Although a bit mild, there is smut in this, no minors allowed from here on out!

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series. A little smut piece for Azriel and the Reader to enjoy together! I hope you like it!

"I don't like how quiet it is,"

"I knew you were going to miss him as soon as we dropped him off with Cassian and Nesta,"

"I wasn't going to say anything and ruin the mood,"

Azriel barked a laugh, walking over to the fireplace to feed fresh logs into the fire, across from the loveseat where you were already sitting. Watching Azriel feed the fire and let the flame rise a bit, bringing warmth into your little home, made you relax all the more as the early evening was getting darker outside. 

Both you and Azriel had the evening to yourself, Alec having a sleepover at The House of Wind with his Uncle Cassian, Aunt Nesta, and Cousin Rose. Rose was big enough for Alec to play with her, thinking she was so fun to run around with and play with for hours on end. Cassian reassured you and Azriel that Alec would have the best time with his relatives, promising to teach him how to sword fight and do flips in the air with his wings.

The latter Azriel shot down real quick, but he was happy to let his son go for the night,

Plus, you can tell Azriel wanted to have some time with you and only you. Since you finally healed all the way through from being near close to death, you were simply trying to go back to a normal life. Though normalcy was not going to be in your life anytime soon because of recent events: Eris was still on the run with no leads as to where he was, Autumn Court's alliance with Night Court was shaky because of Eris. 

With all of this happening, you were worried about Azriel. No one told you, but you caught onto the fact that Azriel had a personal target on Eris. He was too strung out, too tight in his backside and his stance, and there was no sign of him being relaxed anytime soon. You understood why, but you also didn't wish for him to be wound tight like a tot.  Even feeling the bond and how he was not even relaxed for one moment. Stiff, a bit rigid, and you hoped you could find a way to get him to relax and unwind. 

Maybe it was perfect timing that you two were alone at your home.

Azriel stood back up, looking at his handiwork in the fireplace and the roaring fire that was now active. You stayed in your spot on the loveseat, your head slightly cocked to the side as you were looking at your mate with adoration and love in your eyes. For the last week and a few days, Azriel nursed you back to health and made sure all of your needs were met. Applying the ointment to your wound, delivering your food to the bed you were resting in, traveling back and forth between the River House and your cottage to get you books and some of your cross stitching when he noticed you were getting bored. Mor joked that he was becoming more of a wet nurse than a Spymaster. Azriel never cared, he was more focused on helping you get back to health and making sure you were 100% better. 

With a nasty sliver of a scare along your wing, you finally were able to leave River House behind and head home. But even when you did make it home and were given permission to be mobile, thanks to Madja, Azriel still was on edge. Rightfully so, you couldn't tell him to calm down because the threat that almost killed you was still out there somewhere in Prythian.  You weren't simply wanting Azriel to go back to the leisurely being he was before, but you wanted that light back in him.

"You're quite good at that, my love," You teased, seeing that smile on his face and the reflection of the fire dancing along his cheeks and nose. He looked back at you, his silhouette against the orange tint of the fire would look daunting to others. But not to you, not when he was walking back over to you and lowered himself on the loveseat to be shoulder to shoulder with you. His wings touched yours, making him look over at your wigs that were tucked against your backside.  Reachingup, he grazed his finger along the scar that was still fresh. You shivered from the touch, your wing was a pinch more sensitive thanks to the scar.

"It's healing well," Azriel stated, his voice calm as he was looking at the wing with intrigue. You weren't paying attention to your wing and its sensitivity, you were focusing on your mate. Watching his hazel eyes dancing along your wing, the smoothness of his cheeks after a recent shave, even the soft smile he had made you feel at peace. 

"Thanks to Madja, and you," You replied, Azriel's fingers that were hovering over your scars moved away from your wing swiftly. He moved his hand over to rest in his lap, though you were faster, and took his hand in yours to cradle it. Azrielwatched, you simply lacing the fingers together and smiling at him. Maybe it moved him a bit, seeing how relaxed and calm you were with him since you both were alone. You had plenty of things to say to him but had no idea where to start. Azriel must have sensed your quietness, he looked at you in concern as he squeezed your fingers together.

"Sweetheart?" He asked tentatively, he was searching your face as you were looking down at your joined hands. You are overwhelmed in that moment, being able to be back home at your home, healthy, and able to share this moment with your husband and mate. It made you want to cry, but something was holding you back from bringing on tears. Azriel reached over with his spare hand, placing a finger under your chin to gently raise your gaze to him. All you could do was smile, Azriel was about to say something else when you finally spoke.

"I'm happy," You explained to him as he was searching your eyes. You might have sounded odd to say that since you were on the verge of crying, but Azriel said nothing and simply watched you as you kept talking, "I'm happy that I'm here, and I have you to thank,"

Your voice sounded broken, yet you were smiling as if nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong, you were in good health and you had your family with you. Maybe you were thinking back to that moment when you woke up in River House, in insane pain, and Azriel perched over you like a guardian angel of sorts. 

Even with the pain, the near close to death, seeing Azriel gaze at you with so much devotion and love in his eyes was enough to bring you back again. You thought for a split second in the bed that you were in a dream, or that you died and were now in some kind of afterlife with Azriel waiting for you. 

But he did more than that, he brought you back to reality. 

Azriel gently grazed your cheek with a singular finger, catching the one tear that was about to spill over, and smiled lovingly at you, "You never have to thank me for loving you with all of me,"

He made it seem so light, so simple, even freeing. He rarely expressed his feelings to others, even with you though you two have been together for centuries. It was the very simple moments that were sprinkled with love and gentleness, youloved those moments since they showed an intimate side of Azriel that he rarely brought into light. 

"There was nothing in all of Prythian that would stop me from having you in my life, sweetheart," He explained, thefinger that traced your cheek was now curling around your jaw, his palm against your jawline and the touch alone was a shocking sensation to you as he searched your eyes with his soft smile and his bright eyes, "I've told you this before and I mean it when I say it: You make my life so much better. I can't picture going on in this life without you in it,"

It moved you to hear that from him, even though you've heard it say many times from him during your long span of a relationship and courtship. Even back when you two met so long ago as teenagers, fresh in your adoration and love for one another, Azriel poured out his love for you and was willing to give you his heart. He did, to which you took it delicately in your own hands and swore to never break.

You haven't broken it yet, hundreds of years and a son later.

You leaned up and kissed him, starting it soft and sweet as he leaned into your touch. His fingers still against your jawwere delicate for you to feel while he kissed you back and snuggled a bit closer to him.  Something about kissing Azriel in that moment, alone in your small living room away from the rest of the world, made you feel a like of fire in your belly.You knew this feeling, you've felt it so many times before in the throws of intimacy and passion. 

But this time, it felt so slow and like a crawling passion.  Nothing rushed the pair of you as the kisses continued, your fingers both digging into his hair and the soft shirt that he decided to wear that night. His own hands and fingers were moving as well, the hand along your jaw was still gentle but was holding you in a possessive manner.  His other hand was slowly inching up along your arm, sending you shivers and chills that you felt all along your skin and even under it as well.

It felt like you were young again, young and pent up with these losing feelings for one another as the kisses were slowly evolving and growing. Azriel never strayed in his affection towards you, his body curled over to you while you two were getting impossibly close and still kissing one another. Now it was passionate, that fire in your belly was only growing stronger as you felt Azriel trace your lower lip with his tongue.  Barely a graze along your lip with the very tip of his tongue.

You whimpered, moving without realizing it and you were now straddling him.

Something inside the both of you clicked open, like a tight chest that was locked down for so long and now finally free. Azriel tilts his head up to kiss you soundly and wrap his arms around you softly. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at him slightly as your head tilted to the side to feel him kiss you deeply. Nothing else was in your mind as Azriel was touching you, kissing you, making you feel so whole and alive again. Even after being with him for centuries and with a very healthy sex life, this time it felt different. It felt deep, It felt complete.

It felt alive. 

His fingers were now under your shirt, pushing up your shirt to be under your armpits to give you a chill along your soft stomach and backside.  You huffed, throwing it off within a second and diving back to kiss Azriel and framing his face in your hands. He smiled against your lips, you feeling his skin skim along your stomach and hips while your fingers were not moving down to the collar of his shirt to give it a gentle tug. Azriel laughed against your mouth as you tugged it again.

"Impatient little thing, are you?" He teased against your lips, though you silenced him with one massive kiss, your own tongue then licking into his mouth. He groaned, you having a small smirk as you were needing to lean back but Azriel was chasing after your lips. But you placed space between yourself and him, a hand on his chest and seeing his dilated eyes watching you like you were prey to him, His chest heaving, his lips plump and dark, and the flushness in his cheeks. He might have looked like a wreck to anyone else.

But to you, he was angelic.

"Who's impatient now?" You challenged back to him.  He grinned, a predatory-like grin etched on his gorgeous face as he then grabbed the collar of his own shirt and yanked it off. You watched as it fell to the ground, Azriel seeing it too as he broke out into a laugh.

"Thank The Cauldron these shirts are Illyrian friendly," He said in a snort, you giggling as well as you saw your shirt crumbled next to his.  Having this small moment to laugh, even when you both were shirtless and in a compromising position, was a sweet reminder of how you two were so in love with one another. The centuries of having one another,and learning from one another, all lead to a fulfilling life. Nothing felt bland or out of place, you still had those butterflies in your chest when you had these moments with him. 

You both took in a breath together, looking at one another with big grins on your faces as Azriel finally dived back in to kiss you. The heat was still there, no throes of passion but still active enough to have Azriel place his hands along your backside to touch your bra and the latches behind it. You were feeling so good all over, the heat was getting bigger in your stomach as you nodded against his lips.

"Please," You said along his lips, Azriel groaning in approval as his fingers were skillfully taking off the bra straps and letting your bra slip to the ground. His hands immediately moved, cupped your breasts as you moaned against his lips and curled into him more. The feel of his calloused palms against your soft skin, you feeling your nipples hardening immediately from his touch, it was a weakness for you that your mate knew far too well.

You could even feel your core reacting to this, shockwaves under your skin were felt like Azriel moved his lips along your lips and then to your jawline and then your neck. You clung onto him with one hand, your other moving down to undo the buttons of his pants. 

"Let's go to our bed…" You felt Azriel hum against your neck, making you shiver from his lips along your sensitive skin. But you shook your head rapidly, not wishing to lose this momentum or this drive that was building.  You popped the one button open skillfully with your fingers, and the sound alone was heard by both of you.

"No," you said hotly, feeling him lean back and look up at you while his hands were still cupping your breasts delicately. You saw that fire in his eyes alone just in the way he was watching you with desire etched all over his face. You took in a long inhale, almost feeling powerful to have the Spymaster himself bend to your will.

So you leaned down, nuzzling his nose against your own and looking at him directly in the eyes.

"I want you, here and now, on this couch," You instructed him.

You've never seen him cave so fast and so willingly.

You both moved elegantly, knowing this dance far too well as you both helped strip each other's clothes off while remaining close to one another. Like magnets, unwilling to be too far apart as you both were now bare and holding onto each other.  In this little home that was your safe space, a space you two built up and kept strong for years on end, your love was blossoming all over again. Feeling his lips descending to your breast, kissing one breast with delicacy and yet with fire while his other hand took care of the other breast with ease. You were too far gone in the lust and sensations of his mouth and hands on you to notice Azriel's own shadows licking along your skin, making the lust come out all the more. You had to give him credit, he knew how to use all his tools to his advantage. 

Moans and sounds of passion filled your little home as Azriel sunk into you, you both holding onto each other so closely as he finally sunk into you.  It always took your breath away, how he both stretched you to your limit and yet made it feel so perfect and so right. So many times in the past you thought how perfect he felt inside of you, snug against your walls and hitting the right spots within you that made you see and feel stars. You felt it again that moment, his cock fitting you so perfectly that you felt like you two were made for one another. It made you speechless for a moment, frozen in his lap as he was watching your reaction. No matter that you couldn't find the words or put together a sentence, you were feeling everything and everywhere. 

You had no idea what Azriel was thinking at that moment, watching up be speechless as he was buried deep inside of you. He was feeling that sensation as well, pure lust and euphoria rolled into one. Nothing else could feel this amazing, this close to heaven or any kind of heaven, and it all came from you.  Your shining eyes, your tender heart, and yourwillingness to love him for all he was and for all his flaws. But the physical love he felt for you heightened all the more.

But seeing you bare, eyes lusted over in bliss and love with your head tilted back and looking up at the ceiling, chest heaving, and your hair cascading down your back, Azriel was in love all over again.

"Mother Above," He said in a breath, almost sounding winded himself from the sight of you. If he were to die in that moment, he would die a happy being and have no shame in it. You opened your eyes, hearing him and looking at you with your breath barely on your lips. He smiled the rare smile that made you think he hung the moon. He uttered one word, a word that he would use to always describe you and his love for you:

"Divine"

From that moment on, you both moved so softly and carefully yet filled with passion and possession simultaneously. Youwere inwardly thankful that your home was tucked away from anyone else, giving you all the privacy to fully enjoy this moment with your mate as he rolled his hips deeply and almost in a feral manner. You were letting him, having the experience know that this wasn't going to be anything typical. Your sex life with Azriel was never typical: it was always driven to ecstasy. Somehow, this time seemed deeper.  Being on the couch in front of a roaring fire, the sounds of bothyourself and Azriel enjoying one another as you rode him carefully with his arms around you, it all felt like an out-of-body experience.

As you were getting close and closer to your peak, you were closing your eyes and leaning against Azriel as you were feeling every sensation: his cock hitting your sweet spot inside of you with every roll of his hips, his hands roaming along your sweaty skin, his lips brushing along your neck. Even hearing him moan and grunt, the pure love and lust he was feeling too while he pleasing you, was making you get closer to the edge as well.  You both were feeding off each other, a tactic you both have done for years and years.

I love you, Cauldron I love you so much. I can feel you….mph….everywhere! You hear in your mind through the bond,that his voice was sounding raw and emotional as you were moving hotly in his ear. You felt wrecked, emotionally and lustfully as you were attempting to connect words to make a thought or two. But he was fucking you so good, drilling into you to the point that you were losing your breath once or twice. 

Right there Az….fuck…right there! Please…please fill me up. You moaned through the bond to him, the rational side was slipping away and something else was taking over. Something that you could only show to your mate when you were in the throws of pleasure. Perhaps you weren't thinking about it too much, but Azriel let out a gutted moan. Something you never heard in a long time, such a long time. It made you open your eyes briefly, looking down at your mate and seeing the wrecked look on his face.  So disheveled, and yet beyond gorgeous to you as he kept rolling his hips over and over to not stop the momentum. 

You knew then that a new side of Azriel took over. 

Say that again! He pleaded in the bond, his eyes slammed shut as you heard his pleading tone in your mind. You were confused at first, not knowing what he was talking about while you were petting his hair and still staying so close to him. He said nothing at first, just grunting with every thrust he was giving, but you were moving your fingers then from your face over to the top of his wings, being dangerously close to running your fingers along the membrane to throw him off.

Say what, baby? You asked him, almost sounding a bit smug about it while you tried to hold back from touching his wing. Just seeing his face alone was enough to make you want to crumble and fall to pieces, your pleasure getting at an all-time high and about to tumble over. But you still had the one last piece of resistance, of control, to hold back until you knew Azriel was going to tumble over with you. 

To…oh fuck….to fill….fill you up. He confessed, having you smile widely in pleasure flowing through you so quickly to take over your entire body. Hearing that from your mate, from a Shadowsinger and feared Illyrian throughout all of Prythian and even beyond, stunned you.  He was putty in your hands, and the way he was shaking and whimpering against your skin, you knew he was close. Beyond close, and all he needed was a push.

With a brush of your fingers along his wing, you whispered against his ear, "Make me fucking full,"

He roared, orgasming and emptying himself into you in such a force that it made you cry out and orgasm as well.

The orgasm alone was enough to make your head swim and your skin crawl in the best way possible. The pleasure alone, mixed in with the lust and love that you had for one another was now filling the room as your body was riding through each moment that felt like a lifetime. Azriel clung onto you as he was shaking, still riding his own high as you felt like you were going through it in slow motion.  From the top of your head to the tip of your toes, it was all there. You felt out of your body for a split second, floating in the air right above your home and embracing the air.

You were floating back down to the ground again, back onto that couch where you felt boneless in the arms of your mate, who was still shaking himself and feeling just as exhausted as you were. Both of your shared labored breaths, you blinking slowly as the white-hot pleasure that once soared through you was now a Luke warm, a soothing warm. Azriel'sscarred but beautiful fingers were dancing along your bare back, his face dug into your neck and sounding breathless and exhausted. Yet you felt a smile along your skin, you grinning as your face was against his head.

"That's….that's a first," You commented in a gasp. Azriel laughed, sounding so light after giving you an earth-shattering orgasm, "Never took you to like something like that, sweetheart,"

"You bring out the side of me that I never knew I had," Azriel confessed, having you giggle in a shy manner as you finally pulled back a bit to look at a blissed-out Azriel. You loved this look, the look of bliss and pure happiness that could only come from something like this. You were feeling it too, the sense of being the only two beings in the world and everything else ceasing to exist. And having Azriel cradle you close in his embrace, almost shielding you from the outside world and keeping this small bubble of bliss intact.

"You know, the last time we were in a position like this….I got pregnant with Alec," You explained to him as you reached down and ruffled his sweaty hair. He lit up a bit from the memory, you thinking about it too that fateful night when you two were in the deep throws of pleasure together in your bed. It was in the same manner too, you being in his lap and cock buried so deep side of it that you felt every moment and the insane pleasure that he experienced. That memory alone was vibrant in your mind, Azriel leaning up and perhaps reading your mind through the bond, you feeling his flicker of joy over and over as he spoke up again.

"Are you suggesting that we have had a repeat of that fateful night?" He asked, almost in a tease as he saw you blush. Youwere about to hide your face from him, moving your eyes away from him. However, he was faster in catching your jaw with his fingers and making sure you were facing him again. You felt the butterflies in your stomach as he kissed you sweetly. This kind of intimacy, this kind of love, it was something others around dream to at least experience once. Youhad it for centuries, years of building it up together and making it as strong as it was. 

As Azriel pulled away from your lips, he still kept his smile and his loving gaze on you as he searched your eyes.

"If we did, then I am all the more happy for It," You whispered, your heart beating out of your chest. You were thinking in the back of your mind that maybe down the road, sooner or later, another little one would be in your family. It was never a topic you or Azriel spoke about, but then again it wasn't closed either. Life with Alec was beyond a blessing, unlocking a part of your heart and soul you never thought you would have in this lifetime. A child that was the perfect mix of you and your mate, was all you've ever wanted and more.  And thinking of another child, another perfect child that you and Azriel would guide in the world.

It was so tempting.

"I think a shower is in order," Azriel hummed, carefully slipping out of you and you shifting a bit uncomfortably. But he moved swiftly, he picked you up bridal style, you laughing as your arms were around his neck and he stood up. You both were naked and yet ecstatic, Azriel carrying you over to the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom as you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

The flickering dream of perhaps another child in your family was still in the back of your mind. 

The End.

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @alwayshave-faith

[madame-fear]

req: a reader who has dragon dreams sort of like helaena, and foresees what happens at storms end, so she begs lucerys not to go? or syraight up sneaks along with him?

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐁 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐓 𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐑 (𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨) .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks! : This was very entertaining to write my dear Nonnie, thank you very much for requesting it and I truly hope you enjoy it + it was what you expected !! 💕 — summary : [ — ✧ request ] — word count : 1.3k

— pairing : lucerys velaryon x prophetic!reader — genre : slight angst, but turns into fluff. mentions of reader seeing Luke’s death at Storm’s End.

“Mother will be sending me to Storm’s End in the morrow.”

It was daunting, to remember his words as you spoke earlier during the day.

It was daunting enough for you to know, that Lucerys would be going to Storm’s End by himself while his brother Jacaerys was to be sent to Winterfell. You understood the implicances of the imminent war and the need for alliances between Houses, especially if Rhaenyra had to claim her birthright — but at the same time, something inside of you felt wrong at the thought of Lucerys going to seek alliance to House Baratheon.

A gut feeling, perhaps. And when it came to guiding yourself by your own intuition, you were never wrong. Most of the time, Rhaenyra often seeked your thoughts and intuition in certain cases, and whenever you spoke about the rights or wrongs of anything, it never failed in certainty.

But what was worse, was when you foresaw situations through your own dreams. Your breath hitched sharply, and the sound of your silk sheets being continously ruffled as you shifted ubcomfortably from one side and another invaded your chambers. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have those type of foreseeing dreams, and you dreaded it. Especially when it came to life-depending situations.

By the moment you abruptly woke up from your sleep, panting heavily and with your body drenched in your own sweat, the rowdy noise of the violent storm you had seen in your dreams remained disturbing you. You mentally could still hear the wicked, mocking laughter of Aemond Targaryen while riding Vhagar, haunting Luke as he chased after him, calling out for the young Velaryon and the “debt” he owed him — his eye.

The noise of the loud thunders cracking violently leisurely faded away as you had foreseen Luke getting away from Storm’s End in your dreams, seemingly missing Aemond out of sight as the bright skies were clear. But, suddenly, what jolted you awake trying to steady your gaspy breathing, was the sight of Vhagar harshly eating Luke as a whole, and ripping of Arrax from parts of his own body — falling into the vast sea above them.

Remembering the horrid sight, knowing deep inside of you that that was exactly what would happen to him if he travelled to Storm’s End, a lump was formed on your throat. Your lips quivered, trying to calm yourself down and fight back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes at any moment. Luke didn’t deserve such horrendous fate. It took you a few minutes until your quivering body recomposed itself, but without doubting it, you had to go tell Lucerys. You knew he would believe you in the blink of an eye.

In a hurried manner, your hand rapidly tossed the ruffled silk sheet barely covering your body, immediatly getting out of bed. Your delicate lips were partly opened, allowing soft pants to escape from them as your shaking body quickly guided your steps out of your chambers. As you got out, you shut the door behind of you quietly, surreptitiously sneaking into the halls.

Through the dimly lit halls, your feet felt as if they dragged themselves through the floor, with faint footsteps as you tried to reach Luke’s own chambers. With each quiet, sneaky step you made, you could feel a wave of corporal trembling — wobbling weakly from the fright and angst you felt at the sight of the dream. You fought hardly to hold back the tears to escape right there, and you could never want for Luke to see you in such dreadful state.

It felt an eternity to arrive to his quarters, and when you did, you wasted no time on knocking the doors; swinging open the wooden doors. Not only you hadn’t knocked because you didn’t wish to alert any passing guard, but as well because it felt like an important emergency to let him know of the dreams you had.

With his eyes fluttering open sleepily, Lucerys rapidly turned around; his brunette curly hair completely messy from having been suddenly woken up. The Velaryon Prince lazily rubbed his eyes swiftly, frowning his eyebrows in confusion. Closing the door behind of you sloppily, Luke began speaking, in a groggy, yet concerned tone. “(y/n)? Are you alright?–” you intrrupted him, crawling quickly on his bed to desperately approach him.

“Don’t go.”

“W-What?” he stuttered briefly, propping his body on the mattress by his elbows.

“I said don’t go.” you repeated slowly, breathing out some pants. The lump on your throat intensified, nearly choking you. “Don’t go to Storm’s End. Please.” those last words came as a plea, and maybe, they were.

Leisurely, his eyes blinked a few times until his sight properly adjusted to you, and his surroundings. His eyebrows remained furrowed, but his facial expression softened the moment he noticed tears beginning to gently roll through your soft skin, across your cheeks. Before he could mutter a words, a rather loud sob spurred from your lips, gazing down at the bed timidly.

“I saw you—” you paused, trying to catch your breath and stop yourself from tearing any further. His hand tenderly was placed on your arm, rubbing it. “I-I saw, in my dreams... Aemond chasing you,” the words struggled to come out. His green hazel eyes widened slightly at your dream, immediatly moving his hand gently to slip his fingers under your chin, trying to lift it to make eye contact with you.

“H-He was shouting after you, a-and...” you trailed off, feeling some more tears leaving their hot trails through your cheeks as you tried to catch some air. “A-And he... No, Vhagar, killed both Arrax and you. I-I saw it.” merely remembering the image and having to express it to Lucerys made your body feel weak. You nearly choked yourself with the lump formed on your throat.

His heart nearly dropped inside his chest, not managing to stutter a word out of his rosy lips to give you a proper response. All Luke felt able to do, was quickly wrap his arms firmly around your body as you collapsed in tears and sobs on top of him. “I-I don’t care if I have to convince you, or your mother, a thousand times–” you muttered in between sobs, desperately hugging him back. “— But I beg of you, Lucerys, please don’t go there. I can’t stand the thought of you being harmed in any way.”

Your nails scraped on his nightclothing, as if you felt the need of feeling him alive and well under your desperate clinging to his body. Lucerys, with his breath sharpened slightly at the thought of what you had foreseen in your dreams — knowing they always became true — embraced you tighter, pulling you closer to him as his hand moved up and down on your back; his caresses were an attempt to soothe you.

It felt as if his heart shattered at the mere sounds of your fervent sobbing, feeling your spilling tears leave wet spots on his nightwear. Your nose nuzzled his neck, inhaling his sweet vainilla scent, and hiding your crying face on the crook of his neck.

Luke returned the same affection for you, rocking your body slightly to the sides, seeking to comfort you as his eyes fluttered shut. You felt so comfortably warm, and Lucerys could never do anything that would possibly harm you both physically, and mentally. “I-I will not be going.” he responded, in a whisper. His nose nuzzled back your neck, moving his lips upwards to tenderly smooch the top of your head.

The mere thought of his uncle seeking revenge and chasing him down to the point Aemond managed to kill him, was frightening enough already. And of course, he could only imagine both the pain and fear you were going through when dreaming the situation, feeling every bit of the adrenaline.

“It’s alright, issa dōna riña.” he whispered back in between smooches, his hands continuing to sweetly stroke your back in a leisure manner; hearing your saddening sobs fade away at the comfort of his warmth, and his affection. Convincing his mother of not going to Storm’s End wouldn’t be a difficult task, now.

“I’m here for you now, and I’m not going anywhere else.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @juliavilu1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[obsidian-pages777]

Goddess Eris in Your Astrology Chart: Goddess of Discord and Strife.[Asteroid]

In Greek mythology, Eris was the goddess of discord, strife, and chaos. She was often depicted as a troublemaker, sowing seeds of conflict wherever she went. One of the most famous stories involving Eris is the myth of the Apple of Discord.

The tale begins with the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, to which all the gods and goddesses were invited except for Eris, who was known for her disruptive nature. Feeling slighted, Eris decided to crash the party anyway and wreak havoc. She tossed a golden apple inscribed with the words "To the fairest" into the midst of the assembled deities, sparking an immediate dispute.

Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite each claimed the apple for themselves, believing they were the rightful recipient of the title "fairest." Zeus, unwilling to arbitrate the matter himself, deferred to Paris, a mortal prince of Troy, to decide. Each goddess attempted to sway Paris with promises of wealth, wisdom, or love. Ultimately, Paris chose Aphrodite as the fairest, swayed by her offer of the most beautiful mortal woman in the world, Helen of Sparta. This decision led to the abduction of Helen by Paris, triggering the Trojan War. Thus, Eris's act of tossing the apple ignited a chain of events that resulted in immense strife and suffering for mortals and gods alike. Eris embodies the concept that even the smallest act of discord can have far-reaching consequences, highlighting the unpredictable and chaotic nature of existence.

In astrology, Eris is a relatively new addition to the cosmic lineup. Discovered in 2005, it's often associated with disruption, discord, and the exposing of hidden truths. However, its interpretation within the context of astrology houses can vary, as its influence is still being explored and understood. Here's a general overview of how Eris might manifest in each house:

1st House: Eris in the 1st house could suggest that the individual's sense of self is strongly influenced by the need to challenge norms and disrupt the status quo. They may be perceived as rebellious or iconoclastic.

2nd House: Eris in the 2nd house may indicate disruptions or unexpected changes in matters related to finances, possessions, and self-worth. The individual might have unconventional attitudes towards money and material possessions.

3rd House: Eris in the 3rd house could manifest as disruptions in communication, intellectual pursuits, or short journeys. The person may have a penchant for stirring up controversy through their words or ideas.

4th House: Eris in the 4th house might bring upheaval or discord within the family or domestic sphere. There could be a tendency to challenge familial traditions or deeply ingrained beliefs.

5th House: Eris in the 5th house may indicate disruptions in creative expression, romance, or activities related to leisure and entertainment. The individual might be drawn to unconventional forms of self-expression or have a rebellious streak in matters of the heart.

6th House: Eris in the 6th house could suggest disruptions in the realm of work, health, and daily routines. The person may challenge conventional approaches to these areas or encounter unexpected changes in their day-to-day life.

7th House: Eris in the 7th house may bring disruptions or conflicts in relationships, partnerships, and alliances. The individual may be drawn to unconventional or non-traditional partnerships, or they may encounter challenges in maintaining harmony within their relationships.

8th House: Eris in the 8th house could indicate disruptions or revelations in matters related to shared resources, intimacy, and transformation. There may be a tendency to uncover hidden truths or challenge power dynamics within intimate relationships or financial arrangements.

9th House: Eris in the 9th house may bring disruptions or conflicts in matters related to beliefs, higher education, travel, and philosophical pursuits. The individual may challenge established ideologies or encounter unexpected obstacles in their quest for knowledge and understanding.

10th House: Eris in the 10th house could suggest disruptions or challenges in the individual's career, public image, and reputation. They may be drawn to unconventional career paths or encounter obstacles in achieving recognition and success in their chosen field.

11th House: Eris in the 11th house may indicate disruptions or conflicts within social circles, group affiliations, and humanitarian endeavors. The individual may challenge the status quo within their communities or encounter resistance when advocating for social change.

12th House: Eris in the 12th house could bring disruptions or hidden conflicts that affect the individual's inner world, subconscious mind, and spiritual journey. They may confront deeply buried psychological issues or encounter challenges in accessing their spiritual truth.

[freakassfemme]

(Smut) Captain's Quarters - Yara Greyjoy x CisF!Reader

Summary: Princess Y/N, sibling of Queen Daenerys, has returned with her sister for a visit to the Iron Islands. These visits used to be more commonplace, but the two have not visited the islands since before the Battle of Winterfell. Y/N has a strong attachment to the islands, but finds her attachment has extended to its reigning monarch in a new, unfamiliar way.

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, praise kink (kinda), the works

A/N: Long time no see! I got so sick and tired of there being no reader insert for Yara that I arose from the dead with 4.2K words of yara-posting. Yara-yearning, if you will.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The night was surprisingly warm for the Iron Islands, and the salty mist of the beaches hung heavy in the air and clung to the sway of your hips and undone hair. Your hands clutched your silken robe shut as you leisured through the sand, a soothing waft of lavender from your recent bubble bath hitting your nose with a gentle breeze.

You paused at the base of the shore, where the brine nipped at your toes and you tilted your head back, deeply inhaling into your chest. Your eyes slipped shut.

It wasn't often you and your sister were able to visit the islands, but gods above, you had missed it. Queen Yara had earned a special place in Daeneyrs's heart after her proven loyalty to the Dragon Queen, and thus routine visits were necessary to uphold the alliance between the Greyjoys and the remaining Targaryens. Sometimes it felt like you had grown up here, and sometimes the coldness of Pyke felt more familiar to you than anything back home, despite how long it had been since you had returned.

You would never admit it, but something about the sea and the people on this particular side of the world had consumed you during all these years of visits. Something about the people's wildness and the way it mimicked the ocean that mothered the island spoke to you and whispered to you at night and danced on your eyelids in spirals and swirls.

Some other nights, when the whispers never came, you would hold a large shell up to your ear and pray. The beloved gift had always answered you with the melodic pounding of waves against rocks, against ships, and lured you to sleep. In your dreams, you would sink into your deepest desires.

In this realm, much below the surface level of what was true and probable, you would find yourself standing beside an iron throne. This was not unusual for you -- you had been born to stand behind your brother, and then readjusted to beside your sister. Your duty had always been protecting the honor of this seat and whomever presides in it, and yet this integral piece of your mind, heart, body and soul vanished in these moments, and instead, you found yourself for once atop of the throne.

Well, atop of its monarch.

Clawing at the throne, which was not particularly jagged and sharp like the one your sister sat upon, and clawing at the crowned, whose calloused hands curled inside you and rough lips whispered filthy promises to you in a voice that sounded an awful lot like

"Yara!"

You stumbled away from the shore, whose once soothing pulls had now gone ice cold and stabbed at your feet and at hem of your robe. Your hand readjusted the collar of your robe out of instinct, as your sense slowly settled, though your burning cheeks lingered a bit too long.

Turning towards the disturbance, your eyes caught on the closest (and largest) docked ship, whose windows and deck harbored light and celebration. A group of sailors and soldiers drank merrily and called for a straggling participant, who marched towards the boat and waved them off, enjoying the attention in her own way. In this moment, you were grateful that the shadows of the cliffs behind you hid your so very clearly out of place figure.

Your attention followed Yara as she boarded the ship, and despite the distance, you could make out the way they all greeted her with a clasp on the shoulder, pat on the back, or smack on the bottom. The corners of your mouth turned up at the raw, unabashed display of admiration.

Shudders ran down your back and you ignored the way your stomach turned. For a moment, you thought about heading back to the castle. Nauseatingly, you thought about knocking on your sister's door and spilling these secrets to her and beg for direction, a command, anything.

Daenerys was the closest thing you had to a mother, and the urge to crawl into her arms and wait for guidance on this troubling issue consumed you as it always had, but you were a woman now, a delicate one, but blossomed and bled nonetheless, and you had witnessed your own sister's call to these womanly urges, and it was incredibly reminiscent of this pull you felt to the Ironborn Queen.

Your mind wandered back to your arrival this morning.

"It has been so long since I've returned," you said to Daenerys as you marveled over the aged walls of Pyke. Your hand danced across the slotted stone, digging your finger into chipped areas and rubbing your thumb against the in-between space.

Daenerys smiled knowingly, hands clasped softly in front of her. Missendei, Tyrion, and Greyworm trailed closely behind.

"How long has it been?" You murmured, mostly to yourself.

"Not since before the war, my lady," Tyrion added, and you turned to him, nodding with a solemn smile.

"It has been nearly that long since I have seen the rest of the Greyjoys, as well. Not since Theon."

Tyrion and Daenerys nod respectfully, reminiscing on Theon's death and the bravery that presumed it. A small silence ensued.

"I never understood how you have adapted so well to this cold, my lady," Missendei said, sweetly cutting the silence.

"She is a dragon," Daenerys replied, reaching out to brush a bit of her sister's hair back into place. "She provides her own warmth."

The throne room was modest in size but exuberant in its carvings, luxurious enough to suggest status but rugged enough to represent the people it ruled. You couldn't help but admire it all, it being so vastly different from the outright lushness of Mereen or even Dragonstone.

Of course, the architecture was not the only thing you were interested in. You turned your attention to the throne, and immediately stopped. Your sister continued for only a few steps more, taking her place in front of you.

"Yara," Daeneyrs greeted with a warm smile.

Yara strutted forward with an unmatched level of confidence, and you couldn't help but stare at the way her leather tunic hugged her strong shoulders. You were used to Yara not dressing like any other lady you had known, but couldn't help but always think the natural defiance in her pants and boots exuded power and self-assurance. Yara looked somehow more bold and stronger than you had ever seen her, and it was admirable in an unfamiliar, indescribable way.

"My queen," Yara bowed in her own way, a half-smirk ever-present, "It is an honor."

The two clasped arms, and Daenerys smiled before turning to you.

"I'm sure you remember my little sister, Princess Y/N."

Yara's attention followed, and you couldn't help the way you held your breath and stared up at her with widened eyes. It was like you were seeing her for the first time.

"Princess Y/N."

Yara said your name like she was trying it on, but in truth she had always used formalities in this way, especially towards you. In your aw-stricken mind, you'd like to think that her gaze softened a bit. She had never looked at you like this before.

"Your return has been long-awaited."

She outstretched her hand, and you took it with both of your hands, feeling yourself relax into it. Your eyes watered a bit, and you squeezed, unable to avoid the way you beamed up at her.

"I have missed the islands dearly."

Your sister had given in to her own desires, and she had lived to tell the tale. Perhaps you would too.

The ground seemed to push you towards the ship, and by the time your eyes unglossed and you regained clarity, you found yourself standing at the base of the footway. You of course had been on many vessels that belonged to the Iron Fleet, and you knew the people on board rather well, but you couldn't help but feel nervous now. These men were rather drunk, and you knew you probably should have an escort this late. Not even status could always safeguard a lady from the hands of depravity and sin. Stupidly, you grabbed on to the ropes of the ramp and pulled yourself aboard.

Immediately the overwhelming stench of ale and piss cause you to wrinkle your nose.

"Gods above," you whispered to yourself. Though you had been quiet, the sailors very quickly took notice of your presence.

"Princess!" one called, waving at you with his mug of ale. It sloshed over the sides and splashed, narrowly missing you. The men around him jokingly scolded him.

"Come on Ravos, you don't want to ruin her dress," a dark haired, stout man called Yohn slurred.

"Don't look like she's wearing much of a dress to me."

The men turned to you once more, and your ears burned, now with a much more uncomfortable feeling as they eyed you. One coughed and shifted on his feet.

You wrapped your robe tighter, straightening yourself up like you had been taught. You narrowed your eyes slightly, and responded directly to Ravos.

"Where can I find Yara?" You asked, hoping you exuded more authority than the piece of meat you felt like.

Reacting much more appropriately, he turned and pointing towards the North end of the ship.

"Captain's quarters," he grunted, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, and the fifteen or so men stumbled backwards to allow for a path.

Carefully you stepped over puddles of questionable substances and shards of glass, maintaining as much grace and fierceness as you could muster. Behind you, the men resumed their activities, seemingly already over the drunken encounter. You knocked once on the Captain's door, before hurriedly slipping inside, eager to escape the sailors.

As you shut the door and turned to face her, you had to carefully force out a normal respiration rate. Yara was propped up in her chair with her boots resting on the desk, holding her own stein, though her sobriety seemed much more intact.

"Hello, princess."

Yara didn't bother hiding her surprise. She set her stein down and dropped her arms to the ends of her arm rest. A smirk creeped across her face, and she leaned her head back as she very obviously eyed you up and down, legs spreading a bit for a better view. Despite her brute persona, she did seem to try to hide the way she stuttered over the V of your robe.

You noticed anyways.

"A little far from the dressing room, are we?" She nodded at your outfit. You blushed and nodded with a smile. She smiled back and sat up. "You should know better than to walk around alone at night like that, especially here."

"I'm not alone now," you replied softly. Here in the candlelight, she was able to see you fully.

Yara took notice of the way you wrung your hands together, the way your eyes were glued to the loose laces of her tunic, the rose hue of your cheeks and ears, and your long, snow-white hair falling in loose curls around you.

Yara had known you for half a decade at this point. When she first met you, you were a scrawny, timid little girl who watched from Daeneyrs's shadow. To be fair, you were still quite shy, but you were a woman now, not nearly the little bird of a lady that you used to be. Now, in the warm lighting, she could see that these days you were more of a snow leopard than a cub, and you looked almost regal.

For a moment, Yara wondered what you would look like on the throne instead of your sister. Her hands squeezed at her chair at the idea, and she concluded that that was an image that would inspire millions.

Yara's eyes returned to your face, recomposing her commanding demeanor. She shrugged and stood, traipsing leisurely towards you.

Your eyes' followed each other, studying the other until they met. Yara had never looked at you this way, not that you could recall, and the curiosity in her face sent a thrill down your spine and fueled your ego.

"Oh, but I am as much as of a predator as any man out there, princess," Yara countered.

Peculiarly, you stepped forward, taking Yara by surprise at this newfound confidence. She watched you, and noticed something lurking behind your irises, something Yara was very familiar with and could feel exuding off of your body, but ten fold. She knew why you had come.

"And I am a dragon," You murmured, meeting her eyes without hesitation. Up close, you looked even more feral than before, with the sea spray making a wild mess of your hair, and each rock of the boat interrupting your breaths.

Yara backed up to sit on the edge of her desk, and you followed, keeping the distance small but not yet close enough. Yara waited for you to make a move with unusual patience. You raised your hand to caress the open area of her shirt with your palm, then push it aside just a few inches to trace her collarbone with your index and middle finger.

"Are you scared of dragons, Yara?"

"Anyone in their bloody right mind is scared of dragons," she replied, watching your hand as her breathing grew heavy. You giggled, reaching your hand around to cup the space between her ear and neck, letting your thumb rub her jaw.

"Are you scared of me?" You spoke quietly, like it was a secret meant to be kept safe between the two of you.

"I'm hungry for you," she growled, eyes heavy with desire. You felt your core throb in an entirely new way, letting out a small whimper at the feeling.

Finally, Yara reached out, hand splaying across your lower back, where she could finally feel that the robe was the only thing preserving your modesty, and she could've fainted at the realization.

"I've never been with a dragon before," Yara confessed, halfway a joke, yet halfway entirely all too true. You brought up her other hand to truly cup her face, bring her attention to you.

"I've never been with anyone before," You whispered, and for a second Yara could see that familiar timidness she knew of you flicker between the lust clouding your vision. "You are the only person I've ever wanted."

Yara let out a small noise at this. "Then you must be starved."

You nodded, eyes falling to her lips.

"Can I?"

"Please."

The first thing Yara noticed was how warm you are. Your lips against hers were like fire, and your soft whimpers made her want to crawl inside the flames and be burnt alive. You practically fell against her, knees going week, but she grasped you with both hands and held you up.

This alone was like nothing you had ever experienced. Your ears rung from the intensity and your nails dug into Yara's skin ever so slightly, illiciting a gasp from her that you greedily swallowed.

Yara reached back with one hand, pushing herself off to stand, keeping you slotted between her legs. She turned you both, pushing you against the desk until you were sitting atop it now. You raked your hands over her shirt, grasping at it and pulling her as close as you could. Yara put her hands between you and undid the tie to your robe, hurriedly pulling it off your shoulders. She reached under your thighs, lifting you up by them and letting the robe fall on to the floor.

As Yara angled you on to the desk, you propped your arms behind yourself, baring your legs to her. She paused, staring at your bare form and licked her lips.

"Gods below," she growled, running her hands up your body. You shivered as they danced over your thighs and ghosted over your breasts. "You're fucking stunning."

Yara pushed back between your legs. The warmth of her skin against yours and the cold leather of her pants pressing against your bare sex made you moan. Yara shoved her hand back behind your back and laid you down flat.

"Such a pretty cunt," she whispered, tracing her thumb over you. You gasped at the touch, and watched as she brought it up.

"Do you know what this is, sweet girl?" Yara watched the way the wetness glistened on her finger, and you nodded your head.

She grinned, then brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked it clean. You whimpered at the sight, nearly panting now in desperation.

She leaned down to kiss to you and forced her tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the feeling and at the taste, grabbing on to the back of her head and pushing back with your own tongue. Yara groaned into your mouth and grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss, if that was even possible.

Yara's scent and touch and taste consumed you, feeding into every one of your senses and bleaching them until all that was left was her.

Finally, Yara put her hand against your chest and pushed you back against the desk.

"Be a good girl and open your legs a bit more for me," she commanded, and without a single underlying thought, you obeyed, gasping at the way your stomach turned at the petname. You watched with slightly parted lips, panting, as Yara sunk to her knees, staring into your eyes so intensely that you couldn't even think about looking away.

She settled between your legs and brought her hands to rest up on your thighs, just in case. You pushed up on your elbows, trying to see what she was going to do, when she pressed a firm kiss to your sex. You groaned, cheeks going pink, and Yara reacted similarly.

She kissed again, this time open mouthed, and gently sucked on your growing bud. You could feel your cunt pulsing, and your thighs quivered around Yara's head, but she held firm.

She licked stripes around your clit, teasing you before giving it a direct swipe that had you balling your fists and curling your toes.

"Yara!" You gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, because the voices outside of the room suddenly quieted. You froze, looking down at her in panic, but she didn't share the same concern.

Instead, Yara chuckled, murmured your own name against your cunt almost tauntingly, and without any warning, eased her tongue inside of you. Your whole body stuttered, and you slammed your hand against the desk. Yara gripped your legs even tighter and repeated the motion, and you couldn't find it in you to keep quiet, not with the way Yara was working you like she was eating her last meal.

"Fuck," you groaned, back arching. You head fell back, curls falling with it, and Yara swore she had never seen anything more stunning or satisfying. Yara's own cunt throbbed impossibly hard, but she continued her merciless assault, drawing curse after curse from you, until Yara was certain the men outside knew exactly what was going on and with whom.

Yara stood and pulled your hips closer to the edge of the desk. Holding you by your hips, she rocked her hips against your core, and you gasped at the new sensation. You grabbed her shoulder, holding yourself up.

Yara cradled your face with one hand, and you buried yourself in her arm, ear pressed against her chest, whining and whimpering. She pressed kisses into your neck, nipping at it and bruising it. Slowly, Yara stopped her hips, and just as you started to get question it, she spoke.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?" She teased, and you cried out, nodding desperately into her arm. Yara laughed, and then when you felt her middle and ring finger prodded at your entrance, you clenched down, gasping.

"Relax, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing right behind your ear. "I'm going to take good care of you."

You shuddered against her, but tried your best to settle down. Yara started pushing in again, and you clenched again out of instinct, this time clamping down on her fingers. She groaned into your ear.

"You're so tight," she whispered, and you pulsed around her fingers, whining. Once she was entirely inside, Yara curled her fingers, and your whole body reacted.

Your legs wrapped around her, holding her in place, and your fingers dug into her lower back while you saw stars. You bit down on her arm, at least still attempting to keep quiet, and Yara moaned loudly. When you finally loosened you grip on her arm, she pulled your face back by your hair.

"Does that feel good?" She whispered against your lips, and you panted, pressing kisses between each breath.

"Yes, y-yes," You cried out, and she pressed a knowing kiss to your temple.

"I'm going to move them," she warned, and you nodded, eyes glassed over and lips parted. She kissed your fiercely, then held eye contact as she started pumping her fingers. You groaned loudly, then started moving your hips to meet her hand. As your body adjusted to the foreign feeling, you grew confident.

The sound coming from it was obscene, and you pulled Yara down to sloppily kiss her. Yara pushed harder, and so did you. Soon, you developed a rythym, and you could feel a pressure building up in your stomach. Yara glanced down at her hand, then back up at you, eyes unbelievably filled with even more lust. You followed her gaze and practically melted at the sight.

Thick, hot cream spilled out of you and on to Yara's hand, and gods above, her hand was huge. Her palm practically framed your whole cunt, and the sight made you dizzy.

Yara flicked her thumb over your clit, and you choked, grabbing her neck to hold you up from falling backwards. Your whole spine tingled, and your vision started to blur.

"Y-Yara, I'm," you gasped, but you weren't entirely sure what was going on. "I'm, I think I'm gonna -"

"Cum, sweetheart," Yara groaned. "You're going to cum for me." She pumped her fingers harder, and you sobbed into her arms, feeling your stomach ball up tighter, tighter, tighter, and then burst.

You screamed into her shoulder as your cunt gushed over her hand, and Yara moaned your name into your ear at the feeling. Your hips stuttered, but Yara kept pumping until you were shaking uncontrollably and babbling nonsense. Then, she eased out of you.

She tilted your head up with one hand, then brought the other soiled one between the two of you. You looked up with watery eyes and red cheeks, and watched as Yara licked your cum off of a few of her fingers. Then, she prodded your lips with the remaining two, and you opened your mouth, accepting it gratefully.

You pushed her fingers farther and farther down your throat, chasing that high and letting the bittersweet flavor swirl and cloud your taste and mind. You looked up at Yara through wet lashes, and she swore she could've creamed herself.

"Fucking hell," she groaned, and pulled her fingers out of your mouth, worried you'd probably suffocate yourself on them if she let you work at them any more.

You coughed and gasped, and regained your breath just before she pressed a firm kiss against your mouth. When she pulled away, you stared at her with wide eyes and she panted down at you. You couldn't pull a single word to say off your tongue.

She kissed your temple, then the side of your head, and rested her forehead against yours. "Gods below, are you sure that was your first time?"

You nodded breathlessly, swallowing thickly.

"You fuck like a-"

"- I want to do it again."

Yara pulled back, studying your face. Her face was expressionless, and for a moment during the silence, you were worried you had angered her, or somehow shamed her skill. Then, the corners of her mouth curved into a smirk.

"You want to do it again?" She asked, tilting her head until her lips were almost slotted against yours. You nodded your head.

"Is that okay?" You asked, no shyness left to spare.

Yara laughed loudly and kissed you. She stepped away, running her hands through her hair.

"Yes, fucking absolutely," she assured. She reached down and grabbed your robe. "But not in here, I have other things to show you."

You quickly got dressed. Your body shook, so Yara helped you with it extensively, and kept you steady. You looked up at her quizzically. "Other things like what?"

She grinned wickedly before pulling you up into her arms, one arm under yours and the other under your knees.

"You'll see, princess," she assured.

In her brutish style, Yara kicked open the door to her quarter's. The soldiers remaining on deck went absolutely silent, staring at the two of you with both terrified and amused expressions.

Yara coughed loudly and you buried your face into her shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

"If you gentleman will excuse me, me and the lady are going to retire for the night."

[truevedicastrology]

Celestial Vocal Personas 🌌🗣️

Individuals influenced by the Sun and Mercury collaboration possess a voice that echoes confidence, firmness, and stability. Their articulation is unwavering, avoiding stutters and conveying messages with unhesitating clarity. Renowned for the authoritative touch in their voice, these communicators excel in debates and discussions, seamlessly blending longer and shorter sentences to create a burst of linguistic prowess. 💪🌟

For those under the embrace of the Moon and Mercury alliance, a nurturing and motherly timbre characterizes their speech. Their voices exude a sense of home, becoming a comforting refuge for those seeking solace. Capable of weaving words into a poetic tapestry, these individuals possess a voice that resonates with love and warmth. 🏡💖

Venturing into the realm of Venus and Mercury synergy, an enticing and charismatic voice takes center stage. Whether deepening for males or soaring in pitch for females, this enchanting vocal quality holds the power to adapt and captivate. Masters of the art of persuasion, these individuals effortlessly tailor their voices to be charming and cute, leaving a lasting impression. 😍✨

Mars and Mercury coalescence results in a voice that commands attention with its bold and loud resonance. Despite its potential to induce apprehension, this voice carries a mysterious allure, perceived as sexy and dominant. Contrary to initial impressions, it conceals a depth that draws listeners in, creating an unforgettable sonic experience. 🔊🔥

Jupiter and Mercury collaborators wield a voice that resonates loudly and deeply, coupled with a charming laugh. Embracing the role of educators, they share knowledge effortlessly, often finding success in vocally-driven ventures like podcasts. Their commanding presence and informative tone mark them as natural leaders in the realm of spoken expression. 🎓🎙️

Saturn and Mercury affiliations bring forth a deliberate, sometimes leisurely voice. Characterized by calmness and nonchalance, these individuals carefully select each word, creating a voice that exudes respect and thoughtfulness. Frequently delving into discussions on rules and adherence, their measured speech leaves a lasting impression. 🤔🗣️

Navigating the ethereal waters of Neptune and Mercury connections reveals a voice shrouded in dreaminess and otherworldly allure. Comparable to a siren's song, this enchanting voice finds its zenith in slow-paced melodies. Bestowing a gift for musical talents, these individuals weave spells with their voices, leaving audiences craving more. 🌌🎶

Uranus and Neptune collaborations manifest in a distinctly unique voice, one that stands out amidst the cacophony of conventional tones. Unconventional in word choices and sentence structures, these individuals proudly showcase a voice that defies expectations, leaving an indelible mark on the listener's memory. 🚀🤯

The fusion of Pluto and Mercury births an intimidating, seductive, and deep voice, irrespective of gender. Authoritative and potentially intimidating, this voice possesses an undeniable allure, embracing both seduction and mystery. It's a voice that lingers, leaving an indescribable, addictive imprint on those who encounter it. 💋🔮

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[goodqueenaly]

If Elia wasn’t at harrenhal would Rhaegar crowning Lyanna have still been a scandal?

I think so, yes - a scandal different in kind, and perhaps to a limit extent different in degree as well, but a scandal nonetheless. While I do not at all want to undersell the extent to which Rhaegar passing over his own wife shocked and offended onlookers at Harrenhal - there is a reason Elia reportedly sat there “stiff-backed and trying to act as if nothing was wrong” in a probable attempt to minimize Rhaegar’s public humiliation of her - Rhaegar’s choice to snub his wife was only part of the Harrenhal tourney scandal. This is a point I made before (in a reblog from the late great Steven Attewell), but to reiterate, while the crowning of a queen of love and beauty is not necessarily and in all cases an expression of romantic sentiment, this act is not also completely free of such implications in every case either - especially when the chosen lady (or, rather, girl) is, by the standards of her (creepy, fetishizing) society, “part child, part woman … [a] ‘maid’ … [f]ertile but innocent, beloved of the singers”. For a man who was himself the son of a monarch infamous (at least in his early reign) for his seemingly omnivorous sexual appetite, offering the crown of queen and love and beauty to a beautiful, as yet unmarried (more on that in a moment) maiden, without any obvious sociopolitical justification for doing so, I think would have been seen as no less than the prince propositioning Lyanna in front of virtually the entire assembled nobility of Westeros - in other words, scandal enough on its own, without the added IOTL insult to Elia.

Moreover, because Lyanna was betrothed - and betrothed to the Lord of Storm’s End, no less - Rhaegar offering her the crown of the queen of love and beauty was a gross political insult, one immediately recognized by the Stark-Baratheon party present. Indeed, not for nothing does Yandel report that “Lady Lyanna's brothers seem[ed] so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her”, with “Brandon Stark … [having] to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister's honor”, Eddard being “calmer but no more pleased”, and Robert Baratheon “brood[ing] on the insult”, so much so that “his heart hardened toward the Prince of Dragonstone from that day forth”. Even if Rhaegar, and likely the vast majority of the attendees, probably knew nothing about the specific geopolitical goals of the Stark-Tully-Baratheon-Arryn power bloc, every Westerosi aristocrat could appreciate the standard expectations of alliance represented by diplomatic marriages - expectations threatened by the apparent attempt by the crown prince to seize and use the Stark maiden at his whim, and presumably similarly discard her at his leisure. Again, if I can quote myself, “Lyanna was just sexualized enough to be seriously considered a target of romantic attraction while also being just unavailable enough to make any such attraction from anyone not her betrothed (or, perhaps, one of her brothers or her father’s bannermen) truly scandalous”.

[farity]

Let’s Pretend

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary:  You suggest a pretend betrothal 

Warning:  Future Smut

.

“She is quite accomplished,” his mother was saying, listing every skill the young woman, currently pretending not to be aware of their conversation, was said to have. 

A servant took his empty dinner plate and Aemond noticed a small strip of paper left next to his wine cup.  He didn’t react, but looked around to see if anyone seemed to be expecting him to read it.  

There were visiting nobles, but other than the girl his mother clearly wanted him to speak to, he saw no one else that would pique his interest.  Pretending to be listening to his mother, he turned the little strip of paper over.

“West terrace, in grey.”

The handwriting was small and neat.  Feminine.  He crumpled the paper in his hand, felt for his dagger at his hip, and waited for a lull in the conversation to excuse himself.

“My prince?”

He turned to Ser Criston Cole, always alert for his family’s safety.  “Nothing to worry about, stay with the queen.”

He walked around the opposite side of the courtyard so he could survey the west terrace at his leisure and saw only one person sitting there.  She was writing something and not really paying attention but she was wearing a grey gown.  

* * * * * 

You saw the shadow falling over your notebook, then looked up into the face of prince Aemond Targaryen.  “Oh good, you made it.”

“Who are you and what do you want?”

You told him your name, ignoring the rudeness in his tone.  “I have an idea that may solve both our problems.”

His expression, a mixture of boredom and disdain, didn’t change, and he didn’t say anything in reply.

“I know the queen wishes for you to marry, yet you do not seem to be inclined to court anyone.  I want to be left in peace and quiet but after last month’s wedding, I am the last daughter left in my house, and soon they’ll trot me out like a prized mare at auction.”

When he still said nothing, you thought maybe this had been a bad idea.  But you’d started this conversation, and apparently you’d have to finish it.

“I suggest we form an attachment, only in pretense, of course.  Once it is known we are betrothed, the pressure will be off both our backs and we can continue our lives without the intrusion of others.”

He sat down facing you, looked from your face to the notebook where you’d been drawing.  “And why would I, a prince of the realm, in line to the throne, be betrothed to someone from a minor house, when we can gain much from a better alliance?”

You took a slow, deep breath, trying not to give into the urge to slap him.  “I am highly accomplished and learned, I excel at all the gentle arts - I embroider, weave, sing, dance, and play, I-”

“And draw,” he added, condescendingly.

You slammed your notebook shut.  “What I mean is, it is a perfect plan.  We live far apart, so it could be a long betrothal, and while I might be from a small house, we are an old lineage and have a very competent army..”

He leaned back, crossed his arms.  

Fine, if he didn’t want to go along, he didn’t have to.  “The prince wishes for his attentions to land on more exalted territory, I see.”

Aemond shrugged, not denying it.  “I am the son of the king.  Brother of the future king.”

You rolled your eyes.  “That is never going to protect you from being saddled with some obnoxious wife for the rest of your existence.”  There was nothing to it, then.  “But, I understand.  I only ask you keep this to yourself, as I have other names on my list and only two more days here to figure something out.”  You stood, gathering your pencils and eraser and took a step toward the staircase.

The prince’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

* * * * * 

He remembered her now.  He had met her before, the smallest of five children, one boy and four girls.  She was usually trying to catch up to her siblings and Aegon had pulled her hair once.  

Aemond knew well he was expected to marry, and to do so for the benefit of his house.  He would do his duty, of course, but none of the ladies at court, nor the visiting nobles, had made a good impression on him.  Not to mention half of them could barely manage to look at him and keep the fear and disgust from their expressions.

Her plan was a sound one, except for the part where sooner or later they would either have to marry, which would ruin the purpose of the whole thing, or end their betrothal, which would put them back at the beginning. 

But it would buy him time.  Time to maybe find a suitable wife.  Time for Aegon to find his way.  Not that he ever expected that to happen, but time might help.

He pictured her on his arm, standing next to him, underneath him in bed, and made an impulsive decision.

She looked down at the hand around her wrist and then back at him.  “Prince Aemond?”

“You will burn your list,” he said, the sudden thought of her on anyone else’s arm making his stomach twist.  “and I will make it known I am courting you.”

“How are you going to make it-”

He pulled her to him, grabbed the back of her head with his other hand and kissed her.  Her lips were soft and sweet, and she made a little sound of surprise that went straight to his cock.  He heard her book and other things falling to the floor, as well as the whispers of people witnessing the scene.  He was still holding on to her wrist but he felt her other hand touching his face, the side with the scar.  For a moment he panicked, wondering if this was where she’d realize her mistake and run away, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping in to taste her while he could.

Instead of running away she pressed herself against him, and Aemond realized he had to stop.  He grabbed her arms and ended the kiss and saw the confusion in her eyes when he pulled back.  “Take my arm and come with me.”

“My things,” she said absently.

“I’ll send a servant.”

* * * * * 

By the time you retired to your chambers, it was all over the keep.  People were looking at you, whispering, pretending to ignore you.  The queen kept giving you appraising looks while the princess Helaena waved at you and smiled.  

“My daughter, have you something to tell me?”

Your father’s voice startled you as you finished an earlier sketch.

“Father,” you said, “it appears I have caught the attention of Prince Aemond.”

“As long as that’s all you’ve caught.”

“What?”

“What?”

Your father shook his head.  “How long has this been going on?” he sat next to you, his expression kind as always.  “He should have spoken to me before he approached you.”

“I think rules are different for the Targaryens. father,” you hated lying to your father, but you weren’t going to be married off to some strange lord who might be an abuser or worse.  “I am sure he will speak to you soon.”

He kissed your forehead, then started heading out.  “But tell me this,” he said suddenly, turning around, “do you like him?”

Oh good gods.

“Father, I do not think one likes Aemond Targaryen.  One may respect and appreciate him, and you know me, I much admire learning.”  You smiled at him, hoping he was convinced.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good night, father.”

You waited until the door closed behind him to exhale.  Two days.  You just had to get through two days and then you would be back home.  You stared down at your notebook and scratched out the drawing you’d been working on.

* * * * * 

“The Queen wishes to see you.”

You knew this was coming but to be summoned to the queen’s presence was unnerving enough that you had to take a couple of deep breaths before walking in.

The queen sat behind a desk, her father standing to one side, Aemond to the other.  Your father stood across the desk, and he nodded at you as you came in.

You curtsied deeply to queen Alicent, then took the chair next to your father’s.  

“My son has shared with me the affection and admiration he has for you,” the queen began, “something he has, clearly, managed to keep completely secret.”

“Your father has agreed to the terms and the dowry he will provide on the day of the wedding, as well as the vow to provide military support if needed.”  Ser Otto Hightower looked at your father, and continued.  “Prince Aemond wanted to present you with a betrothal gift before you depart tomorrow, and you are expected to dine with us tonight.”

Oh.

Aemond walked up to you, opened a small box that revealed a pendant with a sapphire in the center.  “May I?”

You smiled up at him, “of course.  Thank you,” you turned, lifting your hair so he could place the delicate necklace on you.  You felt his fingertips brush against the back of your neck and barely managed to contain a shiver.  

“It is beautiful,” you added, looking down to admire the sparkling jewel.

Aemond took your hand and kissed it.  “It suits you.  Will you walk with me?”

You nodded, and left the room on his arm.

Once the door closed behind you you blew out a breath and let him lead you outside the main building. 

“Do you think they believed you?”

“I do not care,” he shrugged, “all that matters is that they accepted my request and made the necessary arrangements.  You are still leaving tomorrow?”

Did he want you gone already?

“Yes, of course.”

You noticed the looks from people you passed, deferential toward Aemond, and a mixture of pity and confusion toward you.  Frankly, you didn’t care.  Your plan had worked, you could enjoy a few months of freedom, and then you would figure out what to do.

Aemond guided you around a corner and past a series of statues.  “In a few weeks I will visit you.  It would be appropriate and we can talk more about how to proceed.”

“Dear brother.”

Aemond stopped and you turned at the sound of prince Aegon’s voice.  He was leaning against one of the parapets, half shielded by the side of the wall.

“You’ve been keeping this little morsel hidden.”  His eyes went from the top of your head to the bottom of your dress, lingering on your breasts.  “I can see why.”

“Your Highness,” you said politely, your fingers tightening on Aemond’s arm.  

“This is all very sudden, isn’t it?” Aegon added, then glanced at your belly.  “Do not tell me you are in a delicate state.”

Aemond stepped forward.  “Of course not.  If you will excuse us, brother.”

You could feel Aegon’s eyes on your ass as you walked past him, resisted the urge to turn around.  Aemond pulled you closer to him.  “Is that what people think?  That I am with child?” you asked as you turned a corner onto an empty hallway.

“Does it matter?”

You stopped, letting go of Aemond’s arm.  “Well, yes, but eventually people will know it is not true,” you mused, and caught him looking down at your stomach.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  He offered his arm again and you took it.  

“I will see you at dinner, then.”

Aemond looked down at you before stopping close to your chambers.  “Wear the pendant from now on.”

“I have some other jewelry that will be more suitable-”

He stopped and pulled sharply on your arm, making you turn around to face him.  “If I say wear the pendant, then you wear the pendant.  It is a gift from your betrothed and if we are to signify that you are mine then you must be mine in every way that can be perceived.  You will wear the pendant every day, back home and here, you will write to me every other day and you will speak of the love you have for me to every person you fucking meet.”

Your eyes widened as he pressed you against the stone wall.  “You wanted this and while I agreed, I will also make sure that you do things the way I want them done.  I have done my part to ensure the news was made public-”

“By kissing me,” you said curtly, and his eye went straight to your mouth.

“Yes,” he said, lowering his voice.  “It was quick and efficient, was it not?”  He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek.  “The work of but a few seconds and an hour later the whole keep knew.”

He was warm, impossibly warm, his body almost covering you completely, and he began nuzzling your neck.  “They will say they one-eyed prince has found happiness at last,” he murmured, and you closed your eyes.  “The prince without a dragon now has both the greatest dragon of all and a beautiful wife.”

When he raised his head, you looked up at him and it was the most natural thing in the world to let him kiss you.  

* * * * * 

He had to stop.  He kept telling himself just a few more seconds, but it kept getting more difficult to let go of her and in the end he had to shove away from her.  Her cheeks were pink and she was breathing hard and now that he knew how she tasted he wanted more.  

“Go change for dinner,” he said sharply, and turned to leave.

Aemond made his way to his chambers, throwing his weapons down with more force than necessary as he changed clothes.

She’d be gone tomorrow and he wouldn’t have to worry about her.

He sat by the hearth, realizing he didn’t want her to go.  He threw off his jacket, disgusted with himself.  He barely knew the girl, was this really going to be a problem?  She was the fourth daughter from a barely relevant house, she wasn’t particularly beautiful or tall or graceful or had any distinctive feature that put her above other ladies.  Once she was gone he wouldn’t think about her, wouldn’t recall the sweet taste of her lips or the scent of her skin.

He sat there for a few minutes before he realized he had been rubbing his fingertips over his lips for who knew how long, and wished it was already tomorrow.

* * * * * 

Dinner was eternal, you decided later as you let the maid help you with your dress.  Aemond had stared at you as you had walked in, and you had no idea if he was pleased with how you looked or thought you looked like a nightmare.  He didn’t say anything, either, which didn’t help.

Your father seemed to enjoy himself, which at least made the whole thing just slightly worth it.  

You’d go home tomorrow, which frankly, would be a respite from all the pretense and lies and all of it.  You’d write to Aemond as he’d requested, that would be easy enough, although what you were supposed to write you had no idea because you barely knew him but you would think of something.  He hadn’t said if he would write back, though.  

As you slipped under the covers, you thought back to the kiss he’d given you this afternoon and the harsh way he’d ended it.

* * * * * 

“We will be expecting you back for Aemond’s name day,” the queen said, “it will be good for you to become familiar with court life, being from such a faraway land as you are.”

She made it sound like you were from Essos, but you smiled and curtsied and then went up to Aemond, who was standing by the carriage with your father.

He extended his hand as your father walked into the carriage and you took it.  He kissed your cheek, a chaste kiss unlike the previous two you’d shared.  “When I get back to my mother’s side I want you to stop the carriage and run up to embrace me.”  He pulled back and helped you get inside next to your father, and then began walking back.

You waved at everyone and sat back, keeping an eye on Aemond.  The carriage started and once he was almost at his mother’s side, you hit the ceiling of the carriage.  “Stop!”

You race out of the carriage toward Aemond, who catches you as you throw yourself at him and wrap your arms around him.  You hear a sound of disapproval from the queen and ignore it completely, because Aemond’s mouth is on yours and he’s holding you tightly and now you really don’t want to leave.

But he pulls back and when he looks at you, he only nods, so you smile and turn around to get back in the carriage, and wonder if what you are feeling is going to get much worse.

* * * * * 

@arryn-nyx​   @  girlwith-thepearlearring    @greenowlfactif  @hydrationqueensworld    @megzdoodle   @melsunshine  @queenofshinigamis     @throughgoeshamilton   @travelingmypassion    @watercolorskyy

@hb8301   @kaemond-zafiro    @arcielee

[jymwahuwu]

miss alani, i have some thoughts to share 💭

So imagine we are part of astal express/Xianzhou Alliance (i was thinking about Welt/Jing Yuan when typing this 😚) so there is he, an important character and one who is taking care of everything and in charge of everyone blablabla… So…there are we…his favorite stress relief 🥹, imagine him being pissed off by everything and everyone, pulling you lika rag doll over his shoulder and non con you so badly 🥺 i mean a mean matting press, his hands pushing your thighs flat over your chest and stomach, his dick tearing you down and visible bulge in your stomach as you screamed and kicked, stretched his skin to get away but he’s not budging one bit. Even as you begged him not to cum inside you, it’s not safe for you and everything, he just pushes his entire length in your poor pussy and no cum left your insides, especially after he lifted your thighs up for next hour or so, just watching as you panicked and tried to flex your insides to push it outside, but he just slapped your pussy and warmer it with his fingers till you fall asleep or faint 🙂‍↕️

Love how you describe this - I- I can never say no to mating press😣😩😔💦💦🫶

Jing Yuan may have divine patience, and the only person who really pisses him off may only want to hurt Xianzhou… So yes, the general may still have a (ˊᗜˋ*) leisurely expression on his face, but he has already thrown you over his shoulder and Need to start mating press and breeding. Pressing you down and pushing down on the cock, your butt and vagina are sore from the high frequency of thrusting. You may still have no idea what's going on for the first half hour, but by then you've been stimulated to the point of blanking out and rolling your eyes.

"Please- general, jing yuan- please, today is ovulation day…"

You mumbled, almost kissing your your knees as your legs were folded up to your chest, resting on his strong shoulders. Every rough thrust forced out moans of pleasure, the seed was being produced so much that it was almost full.

"Um, um…I know…" His voice was low, eyes closed, enjoying the ravaging and thrusting into your tight vagina. He thrust slowly, but hard each time, careful not to allow any cream to flow out, while preparing for the next load.

This will last until you fall asleep…

[moonbaby26]

Title: You’re Coming Home with Me

(Doflamingo x GN!Reader quickie inspired by the images at bottom of post.)

There was blood on your knees. You knew you couldn’t take another hit like that, clutching your stomach as you tried to refill your lungs. Why did you ever think you were strong enough to make a difference in this alliance?

The people of Dressrosa were as good as dead now. And you along with them if you didn’t do something desperate. If you could just get up and run…maybe Law or any of the Straw Hats would still hear you. You could warn them. This plan had to change, you needed time to regroup. He wasn’t just a warlord. He was a goddamn monster.

And just as you thought that, just as you were somehow finding the will to get up again, that long shadow cast across you. That and the fucking laugh which accompanied it. As if all your pain and struggle were still for his entertainment alone.

A pretty new toy on his strings.

“Care to try that move again, little bird?”

And you couldn’t even fight back this time. He was already there and he knew your haki was drained by now. Maybe it would be over quickly. As he reached down, you thought about how you’d get the privilege of hearing your own neck snap.

But he grinned instead. Something more that he wanted from you in response to your resigned expression.

“Oh? You thought we were already done?” And that large hand was around your throat regardless, but lifting you back to your feet as if you truly weighed nothing to him. “No…not yet at least. This is the most fun I’ve had today, darling.”

And then you were being dragged. Your boot heels scraping ruts in the dirt amongst the rubble. He looked to the side, ignoring your reflexive sounds of pain. His officers were there awaiting his next command. “Tell me when those other brats show their faces again. I’ll be at the palace unwinding for a bit.” And at that he did stare down directly at you again, those blood red lenses glinting in the warm sunlight.

“You’re going to get one chance to make this up to me. So let’s see if you can at least make a better pet than you do a king killer.”

And you were in the air seconds after. Just a wounded animal snatched up by this freakish bird of prey. The predator was chuckling again too, almost mirthfully now with his arm tight around your waist. For all your effort, for all your planning, those sacrifices now meant nothing. All you’d done was given him a new plaything for his nest. One he could now feed upon at his sadistic leisure.

Image sequence yoinked from the facebook group ‘Moon Piece Vegaposting: The Flood is Real’ (name changes monthly 🤣) and the lovely admin Eli who is also a Donquixote family stan. Go follow his group. 🦩

[holy-puckslibrary]

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

oh, nothing... just them playing house doing a mentorship day and stirring up the rumor mill... another tuesday!

gif from @ehghtyseven

Sidney remains cautious around the local amateur matchmaker, adopting a level of vigilance, one not unlike that of the state he experienced while on duty, whenever she and her cohort openly collude on his behalf. Unfortunately for him—and anyone else audacious enough to be single in their vicinity, their movements are as unpredictable as they are assured to occur.

He could be milling around the market down the block from the station, or waiting for his order at the hole-in-the-wall café beside your shop—even his mailbox was fair game. Blissfully alone one minute, and the next? He's center stage as Halifax's Most Eligible Bachelor, unwittingly sifting through a rolodex of eager contestants, many of whom present in name only.

Their community wasn't remarkable small, but it was quiet. So, Sid could understand the appeal. The residents, many of whom were nearing retirement or already had been for several years, had little else to fuss over. It wasn't uncommon for a single person to become a central topic of conversation at the bingo table or the church pew. Everyone got their turn.

But, of the community's ever-dwindling pool, Sidney Crosby is most definitely the favorite, with you not far behind.

When you arrived, Sid breathed a sigh of relief. Fresh meat meant that, at least a little while, the heat would be off his back. He could go about his business without a peanut gallery or having to stand trial over the state of his (non-existent) romantic life.

It felt somewhat callous to hope for someone else's life to be probed and scrutinized the way his has been, but his reprieve was long overdue. And it wasn't as though he intended for you to fend for yourself. He knew firsthand how relentless Madame Matchmaker—as she liked to be called—could be, and therefore, he could be a vital resource and a nice shoulder to lean on.

You were receptive to his aid and grateful for his kindness, and while Sidney anticipated this alliance of sorts would be largely one-way, he was pleasantly surprised to realize a positive, unintended consequence—a deterrence to meddling. With you by his side, Sidney was approached significantly less.

You both were.

And you knew why. It wasn't hard to connect the dots; appearing together effectively marked you as "off-limits," and, therefore, not worth their time or help.

However, it soon became clear the rouse worked a little too well. And, unwilling to fabricate a half-truth or outright lie, the horde of Cupids found reason to descend with renewed fervor. This time, with a fresh initiative: to bring their fantastical assumptions to fruition.

Today's doings were further fodder, and the pile of pooped toddlers curled between you being the chief culprits.

For nearly eight hours, you looked and behaved like a stereotypical nuclear family out for field trip. The day began with a breakfast spread seated at your breakfast nook and a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood. Then, a trip to your shop for a light lesson in floriculture and an introduction to bouquet arrangement, before the four of you made your way to the station for an edu-chat on fire prevention and safety. And, of course, a gear try-on and (assisted) turns with the fire hose. (Sidney wishes he would've snuck a photo of you donning his helmet.)

As the sun slipped closer to the horizon, you crumpled onto a bench framing the park in the center of town.

Managing two children together for Mentor Day seemed less daunting than going it alone, and it had been—but at what cost?

The hushed giggles just within earshot are measure enough.

"We're never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

Sidney hides his splitting grin behind his hand, all too aware of the typical spectators not two yards from where you're sat. It was best to find amusement in their meddling whenever possible.

"Definitely not," he concurs.

You lapse into comfortable silence, as you usually do around this hour on one of your back porches. The fading sun paints the town square in a buttery golden light soon after. Neither of you can resist stealing glances, open and lingering, too eager to watch the color dance across the other's face to worry about public perception and speculation.

Tired eyes tracking over your face, Sidney hums, "Today was a good day."

He watches you nod in agreement, a dreamy little smile pulling at your mouth. Behind the children's heads, your warm fingers tangle in his. His heart thuds when your hand gently squeezes his three times.

"Yeah, it was."

—

someone let me give him kids! now!

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE!

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 4

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev   next–⊱

𝟎𝟒 | 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐬

chapter word count: 3.5 k

content warnings: vomiting, panic attack, mild paranoia, accidental self harm, blanket warnings

a/n: Sorry Y/n. Also! Theres a small mention of blood from when there's accidental self harm. The action is not done with the purpose of sh, but its still there.

Thanks for reading!

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐈𝐓 takes two weeks before you get to meet the Warrior Unit. Zeke had taken you out for walks to help you familiarize with the city, and Gabi had knocked on the door more than once, occasionally accompanied by Falco. The clothes don't feel so foreign on your body anymore, and you could now read numbers with minimal problems.

Even if it felt a little like betraying your old life, you were –little by little– getting used to Liberio and its lifestyle. You had something of a routine already; wake up, eat breakfast with Zeke, chill in the house, either with card games or studying, and, if Zeke wasn't busy, a walk around the square.

They were rare, though. The developing conflict with the Mid-Eastern Alliance had him spending all day in HQ.

It was a little like playing pretend and a little like a game of tug-o-war. All your time was consumed by carefully guarding your information, all the while picking and choosing sentences for Zeke to dissect. He did the same, and it was in that perilous dance that all your energy was consumed.

Gabi also visited whenever she could, but, between her own personal life and her training as a candidate, her schedule was full. She still went on and on about the other candidates and warriors, and you had to admit that it was intriguing to hear about them from her perspective. She introduced you to Falco on the first instance he accompanied her to the house, the young boy still looking for his book.

You listen to her chatter as the three of you leisurely stroll through a nearby market, mindlessly picking out fresh produce. The coins clink as you drop them into the merchant's outstretched hand, and you place the fruits into your satchel.

"–and I totally kicked Falco's butt during training earlier," Gabi says, continuing with her tale. She thanks you when you offer her a grape, munching on it while she returns to talking.

The boy in question flushes slightly but does not offer a rebuttal, wordlessly taking the fruit you offer him.

"Was it a drill exercise?"

"Hand to hand combat," Falco corrects, prompting Gabi to start grumbling in response.

"They still won't give us weapons."

You roll your eyes playfully at her complaints, already used to her ambitious personality. It extended beyond her candidate program too, multiple lost card games and her consequent bragging proving your point.

"You are what, five?" You exaggerate her young age, ignoring Gabi's complaints. "You don't need anything more than a kitchen knife to help me make dinner, squirt."

The warm smell of freshly made loaves leads you both to a bakery just around the corner, and you pick up something that reminds you of a baguette. No clue what they are called though, as you still have difficulty reading the small signs firmly fixed on the display.

"Didn't you tell me that they taught you to assemble and disassemble guns?"

"But that's different–!"

"Uh huh," you say, a touch of sarcasm in your tone.

You still hadn't made peace with the idea of small children training to be disposable soldiers, but you knew that your protests would not get through Gabi or Falco. So you joked with them and listened to their stories about drills and classes, swallowing your concerns.

"I'm just saying," she murmurs.

Chuckling, you bring a hand up to ruffle her hair as you exit the bakery, not noticing a boy running in your direction. He bumps into you, but luckily you regain your balance just in time, and none of your items fall to the floor. That's partially thanks to Gabi, who catches the bag of bread just as it leaves your arms.

Just as you're getting ready to tell him off, Gabi greets him by his name, and you realize who exactly it was that almost tackled you to the ground.

"Colt!"

Green eyes stare back at you, still caught off guard by the collision. Colt Grice stands in place, his short, blond hair swaying gently in the wind. His mouth opens to apologize when Gabi cuts him off with her greeting.

His brows furrow in confusion and his gaze flicks between Gabi, Falco and you, before tentatively returning her acknowledgement.

"Hey, Gabi, Falco." He looks at you, noticing your familiar stance towards her. "...Who is this?"

"This is Y/n!" Falco answers. "You know, the girl who's staying with Zeke."

Colt lets out a small oh, recognition flaring up in his eyes as Gabi grabs you by the crook of your arm. It seems like either Falco or Gabi –maybe even Zeke– had already mentioned you to him. You stare at him as he catches his breath, small puffs of air coming out of his nose as he tries to recover a calm composure.

"You're Colt? Falco's brother?" you ask, wanting to confirm his identity.

He nods, offering you his hand and a small grin. You give it a firm shake.

"I take it Gabi has talked about us."

Conversation where Gabi bragged about beating Falco in academics, drills, and exercises drift through your mind. Colt was mentioned only when she noted Zeke's appearance in the candidate program, and the boy's newfound confirmation as the next holder of the beast titan only gave Gabi a spike in determination

"Once or twice," you confirm. "Nice to meet you."

"Same. Sorry for running into you," he apologizes, scratching his head sheepishly.

You wave off his concerns, shaking your head with a smile.

"Don't even worry about it."

"Why were you running, Colt?" Gabi pipes up from where she stands beside you, still hanging on to your arm.

"Uh, Zeke asked me to come get you, actually."

Colt speaks directly to you, causing your eyes to widen a fraction. Your first instinct is to be suspicious. Not of Colt, of course, but of Zeke. You assume that he wants you to meet the other warriors, like you requested on your second day with him, but why now? And why send Colt, instead of coming himself, or simply bring you with him in the morning?

There's a million reasons that come to mind, and yet none seem plausible. Family members don't usually go out of their way to interact with the unit, never mind actually going to headquarters for it. No, there had to be a deeper meaning in Zeke's request.

Your head starts to pulse in synchrony with your rising heartbeat, and you forcefully push it to the back of your mind, years of practice aiding you in doing so.

Gabi and Falco offer to carry the groceries home, and you give them your key to the house which Gabi promises to hide behind some plants after they're done. You and Colt bid the kids goodbye, and you fall into step with him, walking towards the buildings that made up the Warriors' Headquarters.

"Zeke told me about your dad," Colt starts. "I'm sorry about it."

You shrug, not really knowing how to respond to the condolences relating to someone you never met. He interprets your nonchalance as a desire to not talk about your supposedly dead father, and changes the topic.

"Have you been liking it here? In Liberio?"

"It's... a change of pace, definitely," you say, nodding.

Colt imitates your nod, humming in agreement.

"So I've been told. Udo, a friend of Gabi's, is also foreign."

The guards at the front of the building notice you approaching, only standing down when they recognize Colt and see your own red armband. Colt greets them as you pass by, you only acknowledging them with a tilt of your head. Your footsteps echo as they let you pass through, and you are led through a series of hallways. When you look out the windows, you are greeted with a courtyard, where a small group of children are practicing drills.

The Warriors' Headquarters' atmosphere chokes you with interrupted dreams, half-forgotten grief, and a very strong sense of sacrifice. You fight heartburn rising in your throat, distracting yourself with mindless chatter with Colt.

"Did Zeke tell you what he needed me for?" you ask after a while, fiddling with your fingers.

Colt shrugs, and you wish you could be as unbothered by the weird scenario as him. To the boy on your right, today is no more special than yesterday, and your presence is unusual because you only just arrived to the city.

To you, however, this situation is far more complicated, and every closed door that you pass has you wondering how you will act when you arrive at the one that will open before you.

"I guess he wants you to meet with everyone. We are a small group, so he probably wants to get this out of the way."

"We?"

A faint blush rises to Colt's cheeks. You find it weird that he lumps himself with the Warriors, but his next words change your mind.

"I'm going to inherit Zeke's titan. He didn't tell you?"

"He doesn't share a whole lot about the warrior situation," you mumble.

"I don't blame him. Zeke probably doesn't want to worry you." Colt quiets down for a beat. "I'm sorry," he repeats.

Before you can ask him what he is apologizing for, Colt stops in his tracks, and reaches to the doorknob in front of him. He opens the door, and you turn back to when Yelena made you meet with Zeke.

Four faces stare back at you, and while you recognize all of them, you are only acquainted with one.

There is a woman laying sideways on a couch, with two other men sitting on the one in front of it. Zeke stands right behind them, staring directly at you.

The scene is eerily reminiscent of your first meeting with Zeke, with the two couches facing each other, the window parallel to the door, and the anxiety that creeps up your neck.

You try not to let your eyes linger on anyone for more than what you consider normal. Zeke's warm gaze rests on your face, and yet, you taste the ashes from how you feel it burn.

"It's about time you joined us," Zeke says with a smile that brings you more dread than comfort. "Were you with Gabi?"

You start nodding your head slowly, and you hope that your anxiousness reads more like shyness at the prospect of being presented to many strangers.

A blond man sitting on the couch speaks up.

"Wait. You're that Y/n?"

"You know her?" asks the man next to him.

"She's the girl the kids mentioned. Hello," the woman on the couch pipes up, waving at you.

You return her wave with a smaller one, and Zeke rattles off introductions. Pieck Finger, Reiner Braun, and Porco Galliard all acknowledge you in their own ways.

"Gabi talks about me?" you ask, still standing up next to Colt.

Reiner nods, and you marvel at his appearance. He looks only a few years older than you, and still his back bows to the effects of the aftermath of his mission in Paradis. A younger you would have gotten mad at what he did to those people, and yet, you don't seem to have the energy to make a scene about it.

Not to mention it would be incredibly suspicious if you did.

Pieck rises from where she was laying down, patting the couch as an invitation for you to sit. You exchange glances with Colt, nodding your head towards the free space. He shakes his head and remains standing up while you sit, but moves to be closer to the circle of people.

"It's nice to meet you," you say politely, your tone reverting to civility in the face of uncertainness.

"You don't look like Zeke," chimes in Porco. "Aren't you like, relatives?"

Reiner smacks him on the arm, earring a yelp from Porco. If looks could kill, Reiner would be dead. Or maybe not, considering his track record with near death experiences.

Zeke chuckles, although the laugh has a minor edge to it, one you wouldn't hear if you were not currently overthinking every action he took, every word that came out of his mouth.

"You don't have to answer that." Pieck sighs and turns to you, offering you a smile which you tentatively return.

"It's fine. I mean–"

Zeke's gaze once again clashes with yours, and his words about not speaking about your fake backstory bubble up in your memory.

"–Must be from my other side of the family," you finish with a shrug, taking in stride his piercing warning.

"That's true," she says. "I think I have some cousins who look nothing like me. Look at Reiner and Gabi, for example."

Reiner shrinks when all the occupants of the room turn to look at him. If you didn't know he was the Armored Titan, you would laugh at anyone who mentioned it to you. It is strange to see them all joking in a friendly manner, despite the series depicting their close bond.

"You're Gabi's cousin?"

He nods. "Yeah. She has mentioned you, but I wasn't aware that you were also Zeke's..." –Reiner falters– "...cousin? Protege?"

"Let's go with ward," Zeke says, chuckling. "I'm not too sure where you fall in the family tree, kid."

You smile at him, when a distant alarm makes you swivel your head towards the door. Porco groans, and both he and Reiner stand up. Pieck taps you in the arm, and you turn to look at her.

"Could you pass me that?" she asks, pointing towards something behind your side of the couch.

When you glance besides you, you find out it was a crutch that she wanted you to pass her. You oblige, and Pieck stands up with its help.

"Did you injure your leg?"

"No." Pieck shakes her head. "I just forgot how to walk."

You tilt your head questioningly, and Pieck laughs softly at your very well acted confusion. Not that she knows it is fake, though.

"The Cart Titan travels on all fours," she explains. "That's me. Porco's Jaw, and Reiner's the Armored."

"Oh," you say, nodding your head. "That makes sense."

"Mhm. It was nice meeting you, Y/n."

"You too," you answer as Pieck leaves through the door, Colt following after her.

Zeke approaches you on his path outside, and you stand, falling into step beside him.

"Are you leaving with them?"

Zeke affirms with a tilt of his head, and his glasses reflect a streak of light from where the sun hits them.

"Can you find your way back home? Colt's staying too."

"I think so."

"Okay. Be careful."

You separate on the stairwell, and you step down while he goes up with the other Warriors. The fresh air hits you as soon as you step aside, and you welcome the way it seems to carry away your unease.

You walk towards the house, arriving just in time with the sun setting behind you. You reach into a flower pot, finding the key that Gabi had stashed away when she came with Falco to store your groceries.

The produce in question sits at the table, and you get to work organizing it. It is not long until Zeke arrives from whatever emergency or meeting he had after you left, and goes upstairs immediately after greeting you.

You wonder what the meeting was about while you chop up the ingredients for dinner. Maybe the war with the Mid-East Alliance was picking up. It had definitely started, if the whispers you have heard in the market were to be believed.

You think back at the people in the room, something on the edge of your mind itching to get your attention. Zeke doesn't come down for dinner, and you eat yours as you mull over on what exactly was troubling you.

It isn't until you are washing the dishes that realization comes crashing down. You had spoken with people who would die, yes. You even lived with Zeke, who would be decapitated by Levi in the future. And yet, you were never with more than one at the same time.

Half the people who you were in the room with at Headquarters earlier would be dead in three years.

An unexpected sharp pain brings you out of your thoughts, your eyes following a straight path to your hand. Crimson blood begins to ooze from your palm, and heat starts to invade the area. You let the knife fall into the sink, where the blood drawn by the blade mixes with the soapy water.

Just like your skin, your composure breaks. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks uncontrollably, sobs ripping themselves out of your throat. The wall built up by denial shatters, and you feel guilt, disgust, and terror invade your system.

The headache that has been throbbing in your skull grows in intensity, and you welcome it like the old friend it is.

Half of the people you have met in Liberio will die, and you are planning on doing nothing about it. Hell, 80 percent of the world will die, and you want nothing to do with it.

You wonder who would be worse, the hunter who slaughtered the innocent, or the prophet who did nothing to stop him.

This isn't fair.

You want to scream. This isn't fair.

The stress in your life was supposed to come only from unending schoolwork, dumb boys and teenage drama. Instead, you are trapped in the eye of the hurricane, where it would slowly, but surely, destroy everything in its path.

You never asked to be burdened with such knowledge, you never asked to be given the choice between yourself and the world. You were just some girl who still had no way of getting back home, and even if you did, the awareness and guilt of what you left the people here to suffer would eat you alive.

Hot tears fall onto the sink, and you watch them helplessly, not once moving to wipe them away. It's a constant heart wrenching melody of muffled sobs and hiccups, where the only witness is yourself and the mixture of blood and tears in the basin. You feel like you're choking, and the air you take in suddenly seems like it's too little.

"Kid?"

Zeke's voice is not registered by you until his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. He notices your bleeding hand and gently pushes you towards a chair, where you numbly sit down, taking in sharp breaths.

You are alone once again, with only the rustle of Zeke in the next room to keep you company.

He comes back with a small roll of bandages in his hand. The chair rattles against the floor as he drags it over to sit in front of your unresponsive figure, and begins to wipe away the remains of blood on your palm.

The silence is neither suffocating nor comforting, but a mix of resignation and gentleness. Zeke wraps around your wound with the crisp white bandages, and the spot where they sit flush with your injury stains red. The white turning scarlet reminds you of the armbands, you note.

Is the blood that they shed for an opportunity to atone for the sins committed long before they were born what brings the crimson color to their biceps?

You sit unmoving, the knife in the sink long forgotten, before you are slowly brought to your feet. Bile rises in your throat, and your face turns sickly green, prompting Zeke to lead you into the downstairs bathroom.

Your dinner is emptied out of your stomach as you kneel in front of a basin. Time trickles down quickly, even if you feel like your thoughts act in stop motion. Everything is muffled. The sounds, your sight, your mind, the comforting pats on your back. A cool glass of water is pushed onto your hands, and you absentmindedly sip its contents.

When it's clear that you aren't going to throw up again, Zeke leads you upstairs to your room, gently closing the door and leaving after failed attempts to talk to you.

You don't know what he asks, you don't know what to respond.

Colt's apology echoes through your mind. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The tone with which he had said it was similar to the first one, a condolence of sorts for the loss of a father figure.

"He's got a boy I'm... mentoring," says your head's version of Zeke.

"I'm going to inherit Zeke's titan. He didn't tell you?" Colt responds.

A bitter laugh echoes in your room, and the kindness that Zeke had spared you when he wrapped the bandage around your palm is a painful reminder of the noose you're wrapping around his neck.

A cool breeze makes goosebumps appear on your skin and you lay in your bed. You can't be bothered to close the window, and you can't be bothered to change. The sway of the curtains lulls you to sleep, and your eyes close as you curl in your bed.

taglist: @dressycobra7 @xngelsau @bloodchapell @i-think-im-adorable13

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[coreene]

Gather around adults it's random lore time - today's topic Sharess' Caress!

Going to start with the goddess Sharess. She is probably one of my favourites of dnd gods.

Faerûnian goddess of festhalls, hedonism, and sensual fulfillment. Passionate and willful, The Dancing Lady had the independent and hedonistic temperament of a feline, and encouraged her followers to spread pleasure to all. source

She is basically the goddess of hedonism and pleasure and, it's nice. I like it. I like that there is a god for it and it's a female. Likely the makers of this goddess was men who thought yeah, sexy loose lady but I see it as "a woman who is not afraid to own her desires" I like it.

Looking at her alliances she hangs with the good guys. Selune, Sune etc. But there was a brief time where Shar corrupted her and she was serving her. Now she opposes both Loviatar and Shar. Loviatar is a bit of a shame but maybe some kinky stuff happened when she was hanging with Shar.

Now a word caught my eye there. Festhalls. We proceed to the related wiki page to find this:

A festhall was an establishment combining the services of brothels, casinos, and private clubs. Festhalls provided a variety of adult-themed leisure activities and entertainment, including sex work, gambling, day spas, dining, exotic dancing, companionship, role-play, and other specialized interests. source

So Festhalls basically combine any fun adult thing we can think of.

This brings us to the question - was Sharess' Caress a festhall? I would think yes. I don't remember seeing gambling but everything else was there!

[sotwk]

Horses in the Woodland Realm

Historically, the Silvan Elves that dwelt in Greenwood the Great, prior to the coming of their Sindar rulers, had no desire or reason to keep horses. Horses were neither necessary nor practical for travel within their dense woodlands, and the Silvans did not journey frequently enough from their home territory to require them. As peaceful Elves, they also had all the stamina and time in the world to walk leisurely to their destinations.

Even with the arrival of the would-be King Oropher and his brethren, there were only a handful of Sindar who brought horses along with them, and continued the practice of riding as a means of transport, whether for recreation or warfare. In the Second Age, the most skilled of these horse-riders was the Crown Prince Thranduil.

Thranduil, the Great Rider

Thranduil grew up in Doriath among the Sindar, an environment where horse riding was not a very common practice.

It was not until he participated in the War of Wrath and trained as a soldier amongst the Vanyar and Noldor, did he learn to be around and ride horses.

(Note: Thranduil's participation in this war is a controversial headcanon and a massive deal that doesn't get addressed enough. It needs its own separate, in-depth discussion--or two or three!)

For his valor during the war, Thranduil was gifted by his commanders with the orphaned horse he rode during the later battles, a great stallion that originated from Valinor, carried across the sea with the Host of the West. He named the horse Raindal, meaning "wandering feet".

As a creature of Valinor, Raindal was blessed with extraordinarily long life and vigor, similar to that of Elves. The steed accompanied Thranduil throughout his widespread travels and adventures early in the Second Age, and carried him to Greenwood when Oropher and his kin migrated out of Lindon in c. SA 750.

Thranduil commanded the forces that cleansed Greenwood from the encroachment of orcs and evil creatures that had survived the Great War (see related HCs here).

He made such a fearsome, terrible vision in hunting down the foul beasts, astride his great horse, that the Silvan Elves thought he might have been Oromë himself coming to their aid.

During the Second Age, many Greenwood Elves referred to their new Prince reverently as "The Great Rider".

Sadly, Thranduil's 1,700-year friendship with Raindal came to an end when the great horse perished during the Sack of Eregion, a battle in which Thranduil fought to rescue the elleth he loved, Lady Maereth. Later on, opponents of his betrothal to Maereth claimed it was an ill-foreboding sign that he should not marry her.

Despite mating with countless different mares over the centuries, Raindal never successfully sired offspring.

After the loss of Raindal, Thranduil never kept or claimed another horse of his own. For the rest of the Second Age, he rode only in certain times of need, and never using the same animal.

Thranduil only found a replacement for Raindal when he discovered the first of his elks, a one-of-a-kind species never before seen in Rhovanion or perhaps all of Middle-earth. He named the elk Alvar, meaning "good fortune", considering the creature a gift from the Valar themselves.

Henceforth that particular breed of elk became known as the "King's Elk", and was bred and raised exclusively to be the mount of the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm.

(Note: A detailed history of Thranduil and his elk, and the characteristics of the "King's Elk" will be discussed in future headcanons, since it is also a lengthy topic!)

The finding of Alvar factored heavily into Thranduil's decision to join the Last Alliance of Elves and Men (which then pushed Oropher to ride into war), and was instrumental in his survival of the bloody battles.

Alvar lived up until TA 318 to an estimated age of about 400 years old. The great steed was replaced by his offspring sired with a native Greenwood elk, a crossbreeding effort overseen by Thranduil's young son, Prince Gelir. (referenced in the fanfic "Greenleaf's Day Out")

Mirkwood's Ties with the Rohirrim Ancestors

Very early in the Third Age, horses were bred and kept by the Greenwood Elves in small numbers, for the main purpose of travel outside of the Woodland Realm to other kingdoms.

Because most Silvans seldom ventured beyond Woodland territory, such travel was primarily done by the Royal Family and their retinue.

However, the Greenwood breeds at that time, which descended from native wild horses in the eastern plains of Rhovanion, struggled to meet the rigorous work often required by Thranduil and his elder sons.

Greenwood horses were smaller, gentler, and not physically built for warfare, charging, or enduring over long distances.

Thranduil and his elder sons, Crown Prince Mirion and Prince Tuhrir, were all over seven feet tall, and the princes inherited the heavy warrior builds of their Noldorin ancestors from the First Age. As they grew older and stronger and heavier, it became very difficult to find horses that could match the level of physicality their activities required.

The Woodland Elves had friendly relations with the Northmen who occupied the Vales of Anduin in scattered tribes.

One nomadic tribe in particular, who called themselves the Lôthéod, had old traditions of taming and breeding wild horses all across Rhovanion.

When they learned about the Woodland Princes' unique predicament, they came forward and offered knowledge about an "untamable" herd of "giant" wild horses they came across in their travels down the northern Wilderland.

The Lôthéod believed their lack of success in capturing this wild horse breed was because they descended from horses of the High Elves from the First Age, and therefore could only be mastered by those with High Elf (Calaquendi) blood.

Young Prince Turhir (less than 90 years old at the time) received permission from his father the Elvenking to accompany the Lôthéod to the northern lands and seek out these special horses.

After several years, around TA 120, the Lôthéod--with the help of Turhir--succeeded in capturing and taming the first of the northern wild horses, which were given the name, "Arroch" (noble horse).

With the Lôthéod's guidance, the Woodland Elves succeeded in bringing the Arrochs to their lands and bred them in very small numbers for over two millennia.

From that time on, Turhir had a special affinity for the Northmen horse lords, a friendship that continued for centuries to their descendants, the Éothéod, and finally the Rohirrim.

SotWK Fancast: Sam Heughan (Outlander) as Prince Turhir Thranduilion

The Arrochs: Horses of Princes

Similar to the Mearas, the Arrochs were extremely selective about whom they permitted to ride them. Presumably, only Elves with Calaquendi blood (which the Mirkwood Princes had through their mother) could safely ride an Arroch.

Although Arrochs were owned almost exclusively by the Sons of Thranduil, there were no laws restricting the use or ownership of Arrochs to Elven nobility. However, it was extremely risky to attempt to mount one without "permission", as these great horses were notorious for seriously injuring or even killing riders they rejected.

Their accepted origin story is that Arrochs descended from Valinoran horses of the Great War, similar to Thranduil's old horse Raindal but interbred with Middle-earth horses.

They were long-lived, but not immortal. Their lifespan averaged about two hundred years. Although more durable (in flesh and will) than most horses, they could be slain by standard weapons.

Arrochs were highly intelligent, and could be trained to understand commands in different languages.

They were extraordinarily brave in battle and did not scare or bolt even in the face of terrible monsters. They were fiercely loyal to their masters, willing to give their lives rather than preserve themselves.

They had high endurance levels, and could sustain a hard gallop for hours without need for rest, even when bearing heavy or multiple riders.

They could be ridden without saddle or reins, but the Princes usually outfitted them with tack for the safety of others who assisted in handling and caring for them (such as stable hands or soldiers).

What differentiated the Arrochs most from the Mearas was their enormous size. On average, they stood 7 feet tall at the withers and weighed at least 2,000 pounds.

SotWK Fancast: Henry Cavill (The Witcher) as Crown Prince Mirion

Mirkwood Horses in the Third Age Onward

The Arrochs thrived as a breed in the Woodland Realm from TA 120 to about TA 2600, enduring even when the Elvenking's lands grew increasingly infested by the darkness of Dol Guldur.

However, with the succeeding losses of the three eldest Princes--Mirion, Arvellas, and most especially Turhir, the Arrochs gradually stopped breeding.

Turhir's final horse was the last known Arroch to survive. After its death, the breed seemingly became extinct despite the best efforts of Prince Gelir to preserve their line.

By TA 2600, only the native Greenwood horses remained to serve what was left of the royal family and the realm's limited mounted cavalry.

By the time of the War of the Ring, the Arrochs (like many things in the Woodland Realm's long history) were thought by most people in Middle-earth to be merely a myth.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

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Interested in more SotWK AU content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist