#Hi Vic this is for you

[justplainwhump]

Just A Fling: Equipment Room

My favourite genre of writing: 'Dany refuses to acknowledge that she is not fine'.

This is set in an AU with @wildfae-afterdark, mentioned Peyton (in his pure, unaltered form) belongs to Vic. Set a while after Dany and Peyton started their affair. And then, something else happened.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Content / warning: implied past assault (m/f), past drugging, memory gaps, trauma response, allusions of gas lighting, allusions of date rape (even though that's not what happened), implied consentual sex.

The thing that finally makes Dany cry is hearing the question out loud, the very plain, very simple question she's been asking herself every night since the party.

"What happened?" Dennis asks softly from behind her.

She's been gathering her clothes from the floor of the tennis club's small equipment room, while he's still lounging on the folding bed.

She wasn't ready for this.

Her muscles lock painfully and she freezes right there, back still turned to Dennis.

"Dany?"

Nothing, she wants to say. You're overstepping. None of your business. You're my coach, not my therapist. Fuck off. Shut up. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

But the words won't come out. The white tennis dress she's just picked up tumbles back to the floor.

Nothing.

Fun. Let's just have fun.

The bed creaks as Dennis gets up steps in behind her. "Shh," he murmurs. "Sit down, Dany."

Shh. It's alright, Dany.

It wasn't. It isn't.

Dennis steps around her, lets her see him, before he carefully puts a hand on her forearm. "Come on. Sit."

He guides her back to the stupid, creaky folding bed, and nudges her to sit down on the edge. She follows numbly.

She followed someone else numbly, too.

"You're hurt," Dennis says.

Dany shakes her head. She's not. She's had a medical check. Not even a scratch. She's been assured she's in perfect physical shape.

She's fine.

"You've been acting off all week. And right now, while we were - You're never like this. I... I know something is wrong. What happened?" Dennis repeats.

He puts a hand on her knee, and she flinches. "Nothing," she whispers and pushes his hand back. "Nothing, I'm good."

"Listen, I know we're not friends, I am in no position to intrude but -"

He's right. They're not friends. Dany doesn't fuck her friends, and she doesn't befriend her fucks.

She likes it like that. Never personal. She makes sure they agree on that.

Peyton had agreed on that, too.

"Please, Dany," Dennis urges. "Did someone -"

Stop, she thinks. Please, stop.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she can't do anything to hold back.

"I don't remember," she whispers. "Please. I... I don't know."

She remembers being with Peyton, flirting, kissing, laughing. She remembers being alone, cold, dissheveled, with a foul taste in her mouth and a horrible headache.

She remembers his texts from later that night, she's stared at them, countless times since.

you were really drunk. i think maybe you took something too, you were acting strange.

drink some water.

It's okay. He wasn't her friend. He doesn't owe her anything. She's a grown up woman, she's capable and strong, and she's responsible for her own actions.

Liquid ecstasy, her tox screen had said.

Let's just have fun, Peyton had said.

Dany sobs.

Dennis' arms wrap around her, and oddly grateful, she buries her face against his chest.

He smells like Dennis, a bit sweaty, a bit of his too strong sports deodorant, a bit like the softner. Not like Peyton.

Not like the other figures that have been haunting her nightmares.

Not like the one who -

No. This is just Dennis.

"I'm fine," she croaks. "I'm sorry, Dennis, I'm... I'm fine. I-"

Someone rattles at the door, followed by an angry knocking. "Dennis? Open up. I don't care about your private lessons. Forgot my bag in here."

"Fuck." Dennis hisses, as he jumps up and gathers their clothes from the floor, tosses her dress back at Dany.

"Coming, buddy, just a sec."

Dany slips into the dress, as Dennis stuffs the rest of his stuff into a bag.

It's okay. She's good. She wipes her eyes with her hands, runs a hand through her hair, and calls up a practised smile, when the door opens.

"Ah, afternoon, Dany," Brad says, without batting an eye. "Nice seeing you back. Can I put you two on the roster for next week, then? Mixed double?"

"Brad, Dany's not -" Dennis begins, but she silences him with a single glare.

"Never been better," she lies smoothly. "Put us on. Let's crush them."

"Cool," Brad says, as he opens a locker and pulls out his bag. "See you then. And make sure this room gets aired."

Dennis stares at the door closing behind him and back at Dany. "Dany, you really should -"

"We play tennis," she interrups. "And we fuck sometimes. That's it. None of that gives you the right to tell me how I'm feeling."

"I was just -"

"I'm good. I deal with my stuff, you deal with yours." She flings her bag over her shoulder and sniffs. "And Brad's right. We should really let some air into this room."

"Whatever," Dennis scoffs. "Yeah. Sure."

And, right as she leaves the room, "Just get help, Dany. Please."

She pretends she didn't hear him.

[sophiebiikes]

leave a capricorn to focus on the detail that fully does not matter.

[chawliekin]

and if I said that dennis’ insistence on being the breadwinner/provider despite literally being a pampered princess who dgaf about traditional roles of masculinity in every other regard (aside from ego) is because his mom only stayed with/chose frank for his wealth and dennis is highly aware that he’s difficult to love and unable to show his emotions openly so he has to be contributing something to the relationship materially in order to feel like he’s worth staying for… and mac grew up with parents who were extremely ambivalent to him and eachother so he has to overcompensate by proving his worth at every given moment and seeking praise/validation from people (and religious icons) who will never demonstrate the same amount of dedication to him but he has no idea how else to desperately keep himself close to those he loves other than by eroding himself into something they’ll approve of… dear god they’re both exactly what the other needs — someone who can’t and won’t leave them even if they try — and they don’t even see it…

[aerostaticsurrender]

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "She was incredibly fuckable. A beautiful bourgeois woman. Waifish. Like a *welkin* basically."

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Snow Welkin. Blonde Welkin...

[i-like-media]

Two pictures of the 2nd Doctor, taken for the serial the Wheel In Space!

Source (like legit check it out there are more behind the scenes images in colour in this thread!): https://twitter.com/claytonhickman/status/1474304915925254147

[themotherofhorses]

his handmaid's tales (masterlist)

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

For his twentieth nameday, Queen Alicent had gifted her second son his very own handmaid. “He is the only of my children not to have one. I’d like for her to be sweet and devoted and quick on her feet, a girl who will swear her undying loyalty and service unto him and his needs,” she had declared. We’re to believe Prince Aemond graciously accepted this gift, much to the delight of the queen. But Queen Alicent herself never expected pure and true romance to blossom. So smitten was the prince with this girl, the pretty bastard daughter of a serving wench from Harrenhal (as Mushroom claimed). Towards the end of 130 AC, Prince Aemond had taken his handmaid as his bedmate, and later sired all three of her children. Any hour away from his dragon was spent in the company of his “sweet girl”, as he soon dubbed her. These are the tales of their love story.

"i am looking for a maid, preferably one of eight-and-ten...a young handmaid for my second son, aemond."

aemond realizes he’s fallen in love with his handmaid five months later as he stands outside his bedchamber.

“please,” aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.”

“she is pregnant.” his queen mother’s palm slams heavily down on the dark council table, loud as a thunderclap. “she is pregnant! aemond!”

“she’s a bastard—‘innit the truth, mother?”

lucerys velaryon witnesses a moment he should've never laid eyes upon.

cassandra baratheon dreams of prince aemond. the same cannot be said for prince aemond himself.

intimate moments:

bath time

against his desk

practice

others:

flowers and courting

mother's day special

hair braiding

family picnic

sfw headcanons

handmaid!reader tag

[svtskneecaps]

lukewarm take of the evening: y'all care too much about being ""outdated"". fellas this smp moves inhumanly fast. it is ok to CHILL holy shit CHILL. y'all are like "(posts BANGER ART) super late guys sorry" friend i am hitting you with a blanket i am snapping you with my metaphorical towel WHAT DO YOU MEAN SORRY. "(posts BANGER FIC) rip this is outdated now" WHO CARES???? I LOVE YOU, OK. ohhhh woe is us as the fandom at large for having MORE HAPPY PILLS ARC CONTENT oh no how outdated!! how could you be writing speculative fiction about how forever felt during happy pills :( slash SARCASM!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BANGER ARCS, WHAT, YOU THINK WE'RE COMPLAINING????? FOR GETTING MORE OF THE CONTENT WE LOVED????? oh no we're past the period where everyone thought green gay ninjas were like Dead Dead, my work is now outdated and noncanon :( WDYM. GIMME. A BANGER IS A BANGER IDC IF IT TAKES THREE MONTHS. you think rome was built in a day?? fuck you, baltimore, GIMME. my ass has been cooking a goddamn backflipo family fic since july when it was ALREADY outdated do you think i fear god??? "oh no, you're making an edit of slime's (attempted) egg murdering spree?? how could you, that was months ago it's irrelevant" SAID NO ONE EVER.

save your wrists kidlings ok carpal tunnel is no joke. CHILL!!!!! CHILL!!!!!!!! TAKE YOUR TIME SHEEEEEESH OK LOVE YOU <3

[gracklinging-electricboogalo]

oh patron saint of blood

[starleska]

for the past couple of weeks my brain has been filled with nothing but sordid media-related fellas, i'm exhausted 🙈💖💖

[angelsdean]

naaaauurr. his baby brother. dead in his arms aughhh. the denial. the bargaining. “It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam! Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay? You’ll be good as new. Huh? I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?” WAHHHH

[thexnightmarexgarden]

Niggas be acting like the power of friendship is the dumbest thing in the world, as if the whole as world hasn't been changed by it.

[sprolden]

still can't believe maryse and kadir (her second in command, who appears a few times in tmi and tda) were supposed to be dating but then it got cut out of the final draft of tlbotw so now theyre just doing the most couple-y things while canonically being nothing more than business partners. save my queen she can't have both a divorce AND a situationship!!!

[i3utterflyeffect]

Pov: You ask your dad to make a toy for you with his weird drawing powers and you accidentally get a new sibling because your dad is also cursed for whatever reason.

Ok, but like if Alan accidentally made Hangman like that with the intention of them being a plush, Hangman could have like plush physics like their body is generally more limp and ragdoll-like due to being made as a plushie rather than a regular stickfigure. [Sorry any mention of Hangman makes me go insane, they appeared in one short and now I need to see them explored as a character-]

(don't mind the coloring, i just wanted a way to color code it so i don't get confused by it later........ i'll probably find a better color for hangman later)

that's such a funny idea...... also they'd be extremely small since they're made for the kids but i think it'd be really funny if they were more around Chosen/Dark's initial age actually (which i hc at like. something like 10 or 11.)

their name also almost definitely wouldn't be hangman obv but. yk sklfgslkfjlksg

[residentmommyissuedbi]

alistair, ready for death and hoping his favorite little priest will come to give him his last rites so he can gaze upon him once more, not even dreaming about being near him much less touching him:father-

Victor, newly minted slut and fresh out the Iron Maiden he called a closet, ready to get fucked by the devil or die trying on the dusty ass floor:

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: “she is pregnant.” his queen mother’s palm slams heavily down on the dark council table, loud as a thunderclap. “she is pregnant! aemond!”

warnings: explicit language. angst. protective!aemond being a hot hypocrite and defending his bastard. fluff towards the end. i can't make alicent a villain in this, i just can't (sorry not sorry).

notes: a lot of ppl requested alicent's reaction to handmaid getting pregnant, so here it is.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

“She is pregnant.”

His queen mother’s palm slams heavily down on the dark council table, loud as a thunderclap. “She is pregnant! Aemond!” and her voice only loudens, “I brought her for you to have as your handmaid, not your bedmate! Seven hells, Aemond! She was not meant to be your personal whore to toy around with whenever you felt bored!”

Aemond feels his lips slightly twitch at her words. “She is not a whore, mother, nor will I stand here and allow for you to insult her.”

“AEMOND!”

The other councilors remain silent, doing their finest in pretending that they were somewhere else. Aemond knows he would have none of their support or backing in this- he is alone in defending his beloved handmaid and their child. Gods give me peace. Two moons back, Lord Tyland Lannister offered up his niece as a wife. Now he sits with his hands wringed together, shaking his head and sneaking him a scowl. He could only imagine the lord’s thoughts of him.

No doubt they’d all be ill-pleasant.

His mother sighs. “Might it be too late to sneak her the moon tea, Grand Maester?” she asks.

“I would say so, your Grace.” Grand Maester Orwyle clears his throat. “The handmaid, she is already a month or so pregnant, mayhap even two. You could give her the tea, but it might risk harm on both the mother and babe, perhaps even an unsavory death…”

“Death...?” Aemond repeats, aghast.

Her face falls into her hands, and she heaves a deep breath before glancing around the council table. The men all shift uncomfortably.

“Might you consider sending her away, my Queen?” Lord Tyland proposes with a sly smile. “Perhaps back home?”

Aemond’s head quickly snaps to Lord Tyland, violet eye narrowing. His fist clenches tightly at his side, near the dagger sheathed on his belt, at his waistline. “You would not dare separate them from me,” he tells him coldly. “She now carries my babe, my heir, and I will not allow her to leave my side!”

“She carries your bastard in her belly, Aemond,” Otto begins, slowly, carefully. He lays a soft hand on Aemond’s sleeve, giving him a pitiful smile. “There is quite a difference between a realm’s legitimate heir and a bastard. I understand you are taken with the girl, my prince, and that she is good and kind to you. But, at the end of the day, you remain a Targaryen prince, who will wed when the time comes. How might your lady wife feel if she were to learn your servant mothered your bastards?”

Aemond shrugs. “Then I shall take her as my wife.”

“You cannot wed her, Aemond!” His mother shakes her head, as if he is some absentminded child. She looks much older too, as if the news aged her a good ten years in one night. He suddenly feels a tad guilty. “How many times must we discuss this! Your father will not allow nor bless this union, and neither will I! Damn you, Aemond! She is a baseborn girl- your damn handmaid! Her duty is to serve you as a servant, not a wife.”

“And yet-“ Aemond replies, trying to keep the scorn out of his voice, “-she treats me far better than everyone in this very room.” At that, his mother has enough shame to blush red. He continues, “I love her, and she loves me. Is that not enough? Does that not make you happy? My entire life, mother, I’ve done everything that was expected of me. I’ve studied and trained and fulfilled every princely obligation of mine while your firstborn flouts to do as he pleases! Aegon shames Helaena every night with an empty bed yet you refuse to acknowledge such! And yet, when I find love and happiness, you’re ready to punish me.”

He levels his bright purple eye to his mother’s face. “I love you, mother, but I love her as well, and I will not live a life without her.” And Aemond’s all but ready to collapse to his knees, to beg and plead her acceptance. It is the only one that truly matters amongst everyone else's.

Afterward, his mother sits in silence, staring down at her hands. The skin stretched around her nailbeds are both red and tender, and she wears only her wedding ring on the right. She turns to face her king husband’s Hand. “Well, there it is, father.”

“It makes little difference, my Queen.” Lord Wylde and Lord Tyland murmured in agreement.

“But would it truly be wise to separate father from child, Lord Hand?” Lord Beesbury asks, pointing at the Hand, white eyebrows arched high. Otto Hightower raises his own eyebrow in return. “She is lowborn, yes, but a royal babe still sleeps in her womb.”

"A bastard, Lord Beesbury, mothered by the daughter of a milk cow."

A milk cow? Aemond blinks, momentarily confused. But before he could say anything further, his mother makes her final judgment on the matter.

The queen slowly rests her elbow on the table before plopping her chin atop her palm. “My son’s to be a father,” she says, a faint smile twisting on her lips. She repeats it again, almost like she doesn’t believe it. “A father…” Aemond feels a bit of hope blossoming inside his chest. “Pray tell, would you rather me separate him from his trueborn child? The child that is still his child, his own blood, bastard or not. We can argue on this matter till we are purple in the face, my lords, but the truth still remains,” she declares, before taking Aemond’s hand in hers, thin fingers laced with his.

“Take me to see her, son.”

At once, multiple voices arise in protest. His grandsire calls his mother’s name, but she ignores him as she stands to her feet. “I do beg your pardon, my lords, but I must see my grandchild.” Aemond bows, victorious, and turns on his heel without another word, feeling all eyes on his back as he strolls from the council chambers with his mother, her hand still in his. The doors closing shut behind them silences all the lords, and his mother sighs.

“My sincerest apologies, my dear Aemond, for referring to her as a whore,” she says, earnestly. “I know she is far from that, and I must say I’m rather fond of her.”

Outside, Ser Criston Cole was stationed, wearing his long white cloak of the Kingsguard. He gives the two a curious look but remains silent and still, straightening his shoulders when they pass by him. Aemond wonders if he overheard the small council’s session, and whether he agrees more with his mother or grandsire.

It does not matter, Aemond decides, pressing a soft kiss to his mother’s knuckles, in a show of forgiveness that makes her smile. He loves her too much to remain irate and frustrated with her, especially once she mentioned her soft spot for his girl. His queen mother- good and fair to the smallfolk- is the same with his handmaid. And his future children as well, he hopes.

“You’ll be a wonderful father,” she tells him, tucking a long strand of silver hair behind his ear. “And I mean it.”

He brings her to his bedchamber, where his handmaid sits on the settee, dutifully sewing up one of his tunics. When they arrive at his doors, she’s quick to bolt onto her feet, falling into a small courtesy. She wears a thick and ugly serving dress that hides her swelling belly underneath but does little to dull her beauty.

“My queen! My prince…”

Aemond takes her arm, pulling her alongside him. “My mother wishes to speak to you, my love,” he explains, gazing down into her eyes. His thumb strokes her cheekbone before he takes a step back, and his mother takes his place.

Before her, his love trembles, and he knows she’s awfully scared. It breaks his heart a little. He forewarned her of the small council’s gathering this morning, and how the maester told the queen of her pregnancy and the decision that would likely be made. She cried that entire night he held her, and neither got a wink of sleep.

“Your Grace…!” she sputters in a quavering voice, hand dropping to her tummy. “I beg of you…”

But his mother says nothing, instead cradling his sweet girl’s pretty face within her hands before leaning to kiss her temple. When she pulls back, her big brown eyes are soft and kind. “You’ll make a lovely mother, my dear,” she mumbles, and it is enough for his handmaid to break into a sob, falling limp as Queen Alicent holds her close, running a hand up and down her back.

“Thank you!” she cries through jagged gasps and wheezes. “I was so scared. I- thank you, my Queen, thank you. Thank you!”

His mother gently lifts her face upwards, wiping away the fat tears streaking down her cheeks. “Shhh, there was little to worry about, sweetling,” she coos. “Aemond wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, believe me. A man in love, with everything to lose, is perhaps the fiercest warrior to be found on the battlefield.”

Perhaps?

Aemond watches as his mother comforts his handmaid, mouthing small praises and pleasantries while stroking her hair back, doing her best in calming her down until her eyes are dry. Several minutes later, the two women are discussing the babe, with Queen Alicent sharing memories of the early days of her own pregnancies. The sight before him makes his heart swell in his breast, and he then recalls the words exchanged back in the council chambers.

I’m to be a father, and hopefully a husband soon.

He crosses his hands behind his back, smiling..

It seems to be true, he thinks, that there is indeed no more beautiful sight than your woman swelling with your baby.

But no one spoke of the beauty that follows when your mother accepts her grandchild for the first time, and the blinding glow that brightens your woman’s face when she realizes such has happened.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67

[svtskneecaps]

see everyone worried and fretted and panicked and yet quesadilla island looked at pepito and went