#thank you for the request ali and i hope you like it!!

[moodmoodthecrabking]

ruthie and richie mouse moodboard requested by @infected-paul

[monzabee]

You know I'm obsessed with the nanny series so of course I have to send my little request to get more of them!!

And I was thinking, what if Jack has a football game and so Hotch and the nanny come to see him? I let you work your magic on that one, I trust you with all my heart 👀🩷

ice pops, jerseys, and the hotchner frown - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: you show up for one of jack’s soccer games, and aaron has never been so distracted in his life.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 2.5k 

Warnings: hotch is down baaaad and he is in his feeelingssss, jealousy (duh) but other than that, none

Author’s Note: ALI THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST, this was very fun for me to work with and i hope you like this!!!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Aaron likes to think that he is a modern man. He is up with the times; thanks to Penelope Garcia and her newsletter updates on pop culture news as well as tech updates, for him to consider as their unit chief, of course. And he would never dream of telling anyone what to wear, let alone a woman—let alone you. He’d also like to think that you’ve managed to break down all his expectations when it comes to fashion, he’s only now realizing how wrong he’s been.  

But when he steps into Jack’s soccer practice and sees you standing there in that jersey, it takes everything in him to keep his expression neutral. Jack spots him first, waving excitedly from the field. “Dad!” he calls, voice full of excitement. “Did you see? Y/N’s wearing my jersey!” 

Aaron’s mouth parts slightly before he clamps it shut. He does see. The red and white jersey with “Hotchner” stamped across the back fits on you like a glove. It’s his son’s, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, the sight of you in it makes something tighten in his chest, and somewhere else he’d rather not focus on at the moment. 

You turn at Jack’s announcement, grinning as you meet Aaron’s gaze. “Hey, Mister Hotchner,” you say, and it makes him feel a thousand times worse because you genuinely don’t realize what you’ve just done to him. “Jack said I needed to wear this for good luck.” 

Aaron blinks, willing himself to focus on your words rather than the way the jersey clings to you in places it has no business clinging to. “Good luck,” he echoes, voice steady—only because he’s had years of practice keeping his emotions in check. 

“Duh, for the game, obviously.” You gesture to the field, where Jack and his teammates are running drills. “I’ve been promoted to unofficial team mascot.” Aaron exhales slowly, nodding as if this is all perfectly normal. It should be. And yet, it’s not. Because it’s his name stretched across your back, his son’s jersey molding against your frame. And now, all he can think about is how easily you’ve slipped into their lives, how natural it feels to see you here, cheering Jack on, standing beside him. “I know your meeting ran late, but Dave got here early so he could set up for the drills, so you should be fine, coach.” 

“What did you just call me?” He asks as he turns towards you faster than he’d like. 

You blink up at him, completely unfazed by the sharpness of his tone. You tilt your head, clearly amused. “Coach? That is what you are, right?” 

Aaron narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Since when do you call me that?” 

You shrug. “Since you started bossing people around with that serious FBI voice of yours. Thought it was fitting.” 

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before he tamps it down. He is the coach, and he’s used to being called that by the kids and their parents. But hearing you say it in that teasing lilt, wearing his name—it does something to him.  Before he can say anything, the whistle blows, signaling the end of practice. Jack waves at you from afar as he calls for his father to join them. 

“Are you sticking around?” Aaron asks, already knowing the answer. 

You shrug, rocking back on your heels. “Of course. Someone’s gotta be here to hand out the orange slices.” 

He gives you a dutiful nod—something Jack also does, now that you think about it. “I’ll see you after the game.” 

He tries to focus on the game, he really does. He is the coach, after all. But the task proves to be nearly impossible, as all he can think about is the way his son’s old jersey fits around you, snug as a bug, and those goddamn shorts that you are wearing. He’d love nothing more to march up to Washington and make them pass a law that prohibits you from ever wearing shorts like that outside the house, but he’s a little preoccupied at the moment. And don’t even get him started by the way you’ve made yourself at home on the sidelines—legs crossed, sun-kissed skin on full display, completely oblivious to the chaos you’re causing in his head. 

It’s absurd, really. He’s a grown man, an FBI agent, a father, and yet he can’t seem to stop himself from glancing over between plays, from tracking your movements out of the corner of his eye. It’s distracting in a way he’s not proud of. Aaron is a disciplined man. He has spent years perfecting his ability to compartmentalize, to suppress, to control—but right now? But it proves to be an arduous task to compartmentalize, as you lean forward to hand Jack a water bottle, the jersey riding up just enough to make his already wayward thoughts worse—he feels like he’s losing a battle he didn’t even realize he was fighting. 

And don’t even get him started on the way you cheer. 

It should be innocent. It is innocent. But every time you call out Jack’s name, every time you shout encouragement in that bright, excited voice, Aaron feels something deep in his chest unravel. He swears he even hears Dave chuckle from the other end of the bench, because of course he would notice.  

Rossi has a talent for sniffing out trouble, and right now, Aaron is drowning in it.  From his spot near the bench, he lets out a quiet chuckle “You know, for a man who prides himself on control, you’re slipping,” Rossi murmurs, just low enough for Aaron to hear. 

Aaron doesn’t look away from the field. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Rossi hums knowingly. “Right.” 

Aaron exhales sharply, forcing himself to focus. But when he hears you laugh, it takes everything in him not to look. And then he does.  

And he immediately regrets it. 

Because you’re sitting there, completely unaware of the absolute disaster you’re causing in his head, eating a popsicle like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Aaron feels his jaw tighten. His grip on the clipboard in his hand, already tense, threatens to snap it in two. He tells himself to look away, to focus on the game, to coach—but it’s impossible when you’re sitting there, all sun-kissed skin and bright eyes, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of melted syrup before it drips onto your fingers. And he even hates himself for catching the way a stray drop drips onto your bare skin.  

He should not be watching this. 

And yet, he can’t seem to stop. 

The ice pop is red—strawberry? cherry?—he doesn’t know, doesn’t care, except that it’s leaving a stain on your lips, and his thoughts spiral into places they should not go. He drags a hand over his face, as if that will somehow erase the image from his brain. It doesn’t. 

“Hotch.” He hears Rossi calling out to him, but it’s a distant sound in his head. 

Aaron blinks, forcing his attention back to the field, only to find Rossi staring at him with an expression that’s far too smug for his liking. “Hmm?” he grunts, clearing his throat. 

“You’re staring.” 

“I’m coaching,” Aaron corrects, schooling his face into something neutral. 

Rossi smirks. “Right. And I’m the Queen of England.” 

Aaron exhales slowly through his nose, gripping the clipboard even tighter. He is coaching. He is focused on the game. Except he can still see you out of the corner of his eye, tilting your head back slightly as you take another slow, deliberate pull of the ice pop. 

He’s never hated frozen desserts more in his life, and he’s convinced of three things: 

One, this is, without a doubt, some kind of karmic punishment. Two, he is well and truly screwed. And three, Rossi is heading towards you.  

Rossi is heading towards—you. 

Rossi is heading towards you! 

Aaron does what a normal, adult, person would do. Try and focus on the task at hand—the task being his son’s soccer the game, the very game that he is supposed to be coaching, by the way. But he fails. Spectacularly. 

Because Rossi is already strolling toward you with that damn smug expression, hands in his pockets, every step of his leisurely pace feeling like a direct attack on Aaron’s sanity. And then—you look up, all bright-eyed and warm, like you belong here, like you’re completely unaware of the way you’ve turned his world sideways. 

“Y/N,” Rossi greets, easy as ever. “Come sit with us at the bench.” 

You blink up at him, mid-bite into your ice pop. “Oh, I’m okay here—” 

“Nonsense.” Rossi waves a dismissive hand. “You’re already part of the team, unofficial mascot and all. Plus,” he adds, barely sparing Aaron a glance, “our dear coach could use some company.” 

Aaron will kill him. 

You hesitate for only a second before grinning. “Well, if you insist.” 

Rossi definitely insists. Before Aaron can even think to protest, you’re already standing, brushing your hands off on your shorts before following Rossi back to the bench—back to him. 

And suddenly, you’re dropping down onto the seat beside him, close enough that he can smell your sunscreen, the faintest trace of something sweet lingering on your skin. The heat of your leg presses into his, and— 

This is fine. 

This is totally fine. 

“So, Coach,” you tease, nudging his arm. “How do you think we’re doing?” 

Aaron swallows hard. He keeps his eyes fixed on the field, straightening his clipboard as if it will somehow ground him. “They’re playing well,” he says, voice steady. He will not react to the warmth of your touch, to the way your shoulder brushes against his. 

You hum, leaning forward on your elbows and rest them on your knees. “That’s good.” Aaron does not look. Rather, he forces himself not to look. And this strategy proves to be utterly useless, because if he’s been completely honest, it’s very hard for him to focus on his son’s soccer game when you are sitting next to him. You pause for a beat, squinting at the field with a serious expression that makes Aaron glance at you from the corner of his eye. You look…focused. Intent. But then you speak. “Still think we need to work on defense though. Number eleven keeps drifting too far left.” 

Aaron’s head snaps toward you. You don’t look at him, just sip the last of your melting ice pop and squint again, like you’re some kind of assistant coach. “How do you know that?” he asks before he can stop himself. 

You smile, finally meeting his eyes. “What, you think I come to all these practices just for the orange slices?” 

Yes, actually. That is what he thought. You weren’t supposed to notice things like this. You weren’t supposed to talk tactics with him, like it was the most normal thing in the world to be sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the sidelines of his son’s soccer game, sharing this—what is this? 

Rossi, still sitting a few feet away, chuckles low under his breath. “Told you she’s sharper than she looks.” 

You roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks, Dave.” 

Aaron, for once in his life, is speechless. And maybe—maybe a little charmed. Okay, a lot charmed. He watches the way your brow furrows as Jack misses a goal, how you mutter something encouraging under your breath even though Jack can’t hear you from here. You care. You’re invested. And it stirs something deep in his chest, something warm and a little terrifying.  

And he knows he’s screwed.  

Royally, thoroughly screwed. 

“Okay,” you say, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh. “Game’s almost over. Win or lose, I say they deserve ice cream.” 

Aaron arches a brow. “You handing that out too 

You flash him a grin that’s definitely not innocent and your voice is nothing but mischievous. “If you’re lucky.” 

His mouth goes dry and he hears Dave cackle. He’s thanking God when the whistle blows, mercifully, signaling the end of the game. The kids scatter across the field, high fives and messy celebrations all around. Jack is beaming, the team won. But Aaron can barely focus on the score because you’re already standing, calling out to Jack, arms open wide as he barrels into you for a hug. It should be cute. It is cute. But it also knocks the air out of Aaron’s lungs, seeing his son wrapped up in your arms like you’ve always been a part of their little world. 

Jack is still bouncing with excitement as you ruffle his hair, beaming down at him like he just won the World Cup. “You were so good out there,” you say, and Jack practically glows under the praise. “That pass you made in the second half? Genius. I might need your autograph before you get famous.” 

Jack giggles. “You really think so?” 

“Think so? I know so,” you say, eyes twinkling. “Soccer and math whiz? You're unstoppable.” 

Hotch watches it all from a short distance away, pretending not to stare while Rossi mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “whipped” beside him. Jack tugs on your sleeve suddenly, glancing up at you, then at his dad. “Hey, did you notice how Dad was frowning the whole game?” 

You snort, trying not to laugh too hard. “Oh, I noticed. He looked like the team was negotiating with serial killers instead of playing soccer.” 

Aaron sighs—loudly—and gives you both a long-suffering look. “I wasn’t frowning.” 

“Yes, you were,” Jack and you say in perfect unison. Jack starts giggling again, and you bump shoulders with him like you’re part of some inside joke. “I think he was just concentrating,” you offer dramatically. “On pretending not to be nervous that someone else might know what ‘offsides’ means.” 

Aaron huffs, but there’s no real heat to it. “I’m surrounded.” 

You just flash him that same not-so-innocent grin, and Jack grabs your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Can we still get ice cream?” 

“Obviously,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “A deal’s a deal. Even your grumpy dad can’t argue with that.” 

Jack turns to Aaron, wide-eyed. “Please?” 

Hotch nods, slow. “Sure. Ice cream it is.” 

But even as he speaks, his attention is somewhere else—on you, your fingers still wrapped around Jack’s, the way you’re talking to his son like he’s yours too, the easy, natural way you fit beside them.You weren’t supposed to become part of this. Not like this. Certainly not this fast. But now you’re here, and Jack is looking at you like you’ve always been here. And Aaron feels it again—that sudden, tight warmth in his chest.  

And maybe that’s what does it. 

Maybe that’s what finally makes Aaron Hotchner realize—he’s not just charmed. Not just distracted. He’s falling. Hard. And there’s not a damn thing he can do to stop it. But maybe it’s also okay. 

Because as Jack tugs you both toward the car, chattering about his goal and asking what flavors you think the shop has today, Aaron can’t help but think—this is what home could look like. Not just peace and quiet and safety. But laughter. Teasing. Ice cream plans. 

And you. 

God help him, it’s you. 

[riddlesbunny]

a little wicked

summary: Your captor summons you to his quarters and offers you a deal.

pairing: Aemond x Witch!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, power imbalance, threatening, reader is Aemond’s prisoner, dubcon, fingering 18+ MDNI

note: Inspired by Alys, of course 💚 but no physical descriptors! Idk how I feel about this but yeah…… Feedback is appreciated!

How did the saying go? When a Targaryen is born, the Gods flipped a coin? A 50/50 chance to ascend to greatness or be destined to descend into madness. It served as a reminder to the great family that dragons or not, they were mortal like everyone else. For the rest of the realm, it served as a warning: The Targaryen’s were a force to be reckoned with. Intimidating, unpredictable. When the Targaryen’s wanted something, only a fool would deny them of it or stand in their way. Aemond Targaryen was no exception to this folklore. He teetered on the brink of insanity majority of the time.

You shivered as you sat in the cold, damp dungeon. The only light came from a small barred window high up on the stone walls. You could hear the faint sound of dripping water and the occasional scurrying of rats. You wondered how long you would be trapped here.

“You, girl!” One of the burly men guarding your cell called, metal keys clanging in his hands.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen has requested an audience.”

You had been waiting this moment since you first arrived: judgement day. What would become of you? Would you be granted mercy? You weren’t even sure how many days had passed since your house was burned to ash and you were thrown in this dungeon.

Once the man unlocked the chain around your wrist, you struggled to rise to your feet, anxiety coursing through your veins.

“Come now, girl. The prince does not like to be kept waiting.

The darkness of the chamber seemed to breathe along with the prince. The room where he took solace was beautiful and spacious, but yet you found it to be almost as eerie as the dungeons. Aemond sat in a large leather chair eagerly awaiting your arrival. Across from him was a small dining table and a wooden bench big enough for two. Without uttering a word, he motioned for you to sit down. You obliged, nodding at him and smoothing your dress as you did so. Before you was a small plate with freshly baked bread and a small goblet of wine.

“You must be hungry,” he stated, “eat.”

Hungry was an understatement, you were starving. You took a rather large bite of the bread, washing it down with the wine. It was the best wine you had ever tasted. You were thankful to have something to calm your nerves.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here.”

You swallowed the bread with quickness and wiped your mouth of any possible crumbs.

“That is correct, your grace.”

Aemond leaned forward so that his elbows were touching his knees, a fox-like grin plastered on his face.

“How polite you are,” he noted, “what do you know of me?”

Truth be told, you didn’t know much about Aemond Targaryen. You were aware of his cruelty. You knew that ever since he took over Harrenhal your life had become hell.

“You’re… Aemond Targaryen,” you blurted out, hoping he would not berate you for stating something so obvious. “You’re the second son of the late King Viserys… You were crowned prince regent not long ago, and your dragon is called Vhagar.”

You watched intently as Aemond took a sip of his own wine, silently praying you did not say the wrong thing. His Adam's apple bobbed in the candlelight as he swallowed — the longer you stared at him you realized he was actually quite handsome. Your thoughts of admiration for him were interrupted once he spoke.

“Very good. Now, would you care to know what I know of you?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood, striding over to approach where you sat. A knot formed in your stomach as he plopped down next to you, his good eye piercing through you with scrutiny.

“I know that you’re a wet nurse,” he began as his good eye flicked to your breasts so quickly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I know that you are a bastard of House Strong,” the tone of his voice had been laced with venom. You knew he hated your house and you knew he hated bastards. A thin line of sweat began to form on your forehead and your heart raced as you waited for the prince to speak again. Instead he inched closer, his hand ghosting over your thigh.

“As interesting as those facts about you may be, would you like to know the most intriguing of them all?”

Too overwhelmed to speak, you remained silent. Only giving him a simple nod in response.

“I know,” he stated as his large hand now gripped at the flesh of your thigh over your dress, “that you’re a witch.”

His statement made your blood run cold. Aemond’s fingers traced the edge of your jawline, lingering at your pulse point. Your breath hitched once again as his thumb brushed the throbbing vein beneath your skin.

“Isn’t that right, my sweet?”

He was correct. Your late mother had been teaching you magic since you were a young girl. You possessed the gift of foresight, being able to see into the future and the past. However it wasn’t so black and white. You had much to learn before your craft was perfected.

“I am not as powerful as you may have been led to believe, my prince.”

Any doubts you had of yourself, Aemond did not seem to agree on, he did not even acknowledge you. His hand found its way further down and under the skirts of your dress. Large fingers probed between your legs, pressing hard against your clothed sex. You tensed up, your breath leavingyour lungs. Your body betrayed you as you felt arousal blooming within you, dampening your small clothes.

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions as Aemond’s hand ventured deeper, snaking its way beneath the waistband of your undergarments. Fear mingled with desire, leaving you torn between pushing him away and surrendering to the agonizing threat of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. It's not as if you had much of a choice in the matter.

"I believe that we can be of service to one another," he whispered against your neck, licking lightly at the sensitive flesh. Two of his fingers teased at the bud between your legs, pinching at it lightly as they became sticky with your slick. A wave of pleasure rippled through you and you squirmed beneath him. Involuntarily your body jolted forward, allowing him better access to the spot he was exploring.

"Together, I believe we can conquer many obstacles and even achieve success."

You cringed as a moan escaped your lips.

"You shall remain loyal to me and me only," he said as he pushed his fingers inside of you. He chuckled darkly as your body trembled under his touch.

"The practice of your craft is to only be done in my presence," he continued as his fingers pumped in and out of you, stretching you deliciously — almost, but not quite reaching that spongy spot within your walls.

“You will use your powers to the best of your ability and for my benefit and in return, I shall spare you your life.”

Another moan erupted from within you as he hooked his digits up slightly, pressing into the spot you needed him most.

“Do you think you can be a good girl and obey my rules?”

Your cunt began to squeeze around his digits in response to the nickname.

As he grazed the rough patch inside of you and pressed firmly into it, his free hand pushed down on your stomach while he continued to thrust his fingers. You felt your body shake and tremble as your orgasm began to wash over you at an embarrassingly quick pace. Aemond watched in great amusement as you came undone beneath him. In this light you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, your hair unruly and your cheeks flushed crimson. A sight he would never grow tired of.

He removed his fingers from your slick and gave you a minute to gain your composure. You felt a wave of shame crash over your body, unable to look him in the eye. How did you succumb to him so easily? Thought in the back of your mind you had hoped wasn't going to be the last time something of this nature was going to happen.

Aemond used the same two fingers that were inside of you to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“So,” he smirked “do we have a deal?”

“Yes, your grace.”

He informed you that a guard would be taking you to your new quarters as he bade you goodnight.

As you entered your new quarters, you were taken back by the luxury of it all. The walls were made of stone and there was a large, ornate canopy bed in the center, a major upgrade from your own bedroom, and an even bigger upgrade from the dungeons. To your delight, a steaming bath had been drawn for you and a fresh chemise was laid out on the bed.

This was just the beginning of your very complicated relationship with Aemond Targaryen. You were still a prisoner, you were still afraid of what was to come; but there were worse situations you could be in and perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[bobur-the-berry-guy]

Please may I have Dandadan platonic headcanons of Okarun with a younger sister age 14 who has a weakened immune system along with being asthmatic..she wasn't a stranger to being ill..she didn't come home at a normal time one day and Ayase found her unconscious in the rain and.."she's burning up.." when Ayase realised that she also had a fever. She was also bullied and laughed at by her classmates for having a weirdo nutter for a big brother who believes in Aliens and she supported his beliefs genuinely to be kind. She is a genuinely kind kid despite her health problems that left her bedridden sometimes and sometimes even sick. Prolonged exposure to the rain or water without drying off can make her very ill if she isn't covered with a coat..she was quite sickly and she was born 2 weeks early when Okarun was 3 when things went horribly wrong after a car accident. She had caught every childhood illness known to man in her younger years and it was slightly shameful to admit the truth but she ended up in tears as it was frustrating that she was mostly more in hospital than at home.

Okarun's relationship with his younger sister who is certainly unwell and had suffered from health issues and was more in hospital than not.

Ayase's relationship with Okarun's younger sister

https://youtu.be/__wPpu1C-zg?si=X9xlU6oFVzpVxDtI (to describe her life)

HIIIII THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FIRST REQUEST HEREE!!!

Besides that, I hope you're doing well! I wasn't really well versed in weak immune system issues, but i looked a bit into it and i hope you like it! Take care 💕

Being Okarun's little sister! With health problems!

To start with, i think being Okarun's little sister would mean you have a brother that would be always there for you.

No matter what problem you're facing, he's always there and willing to help you out. Be it with homework, school, friends, teachers, parents or anything else. If he can't help, he's there to listen and be a shoulder to cry on.

If you're easily sick he would be incredibly careful with you - making sure his hands are washed, he's healthy and keeping things clean and tidy. He would NEVER do anything that could potentially harm you.

If you have asthma, i think he would carry an inhaler around with him just in case. Better be safe than sorry, especially with his sister.

If you're feeling sick at school he's taking you home immediately. No ifs and no buts. He doesn't care if he misses a class or two, if he doesn't turn in the homework on time or if his attendance would suffer - you need to be at home and that's that.

If you're in the hospital, he'd be there whenever he possibly can. He doesn't want you to be alone - hospitals probably aren't the greatest place to spend time in. Be it watching some show, talking your ear off about alies and extraterrestrials or just sitting in silence, he wants to be there with you.

If you're sick and you're at home, he's taking care of you whenever you need it. He's bringing you medicine, running you a hot bath, cooking you a good meal - pretty much anything you could need.

He's there for the gross parts too - he would hold your hair when you're throwing up and clean up after you if you need it. He doesn't care how nasty it is, you're his sister and to him, as a brother it's his duty to take care of you even if it gets bad.

If you frequent the same hospital, the nurses and doctors probably know him. Other than his whole alien thing, they know he's always there to ask about how you're doing and what he could do to help you.

As your relationship with Ayase, i think she would be a little clueless but she has the spirit. Like your author dearest

Okarun would feel awful if you're being bullied for being sickly, but even worse he would feel absolutely horrible if you're bullied because he's your brother. He would never forgive himself for putting you through that. Even if you're supportive to his belief in aliens and aren't really bothered by his weird ideas, as thankful as he would be for it, he would still be worried about the bullying.

You would have to explain to her what's up and how come you're doing things a bit differently to keep yourself healthy.

She would help you out if she can, but she does it like it isn't really a big deal. She just happens to carry around an extra coat or hot tea, face mask and whatnot. She doesn't want you to feel burdened because she's gotten Okarun's habit of always having something handy - she genuinely cares about you too.

If Okarun can't come visit you at the hospital or help you when you need it, best believe she's heard about it and is coming.

If he needs to do something but you're at home sick, she's coming to look after you. She knows enough for taking care of someone sick to be there. If you need anything specific you would have to tell her though.

If she visits you at the hospital, be prepared for a chat. She will talk your ear off about anything and everything - keep the conversation going!

She would also listen if you need to talk about your problems! She can't always give advice but she would always be there if you need her.

On that note, if you're being bullied CONGRATS! You're not bullied anymore. Not if she knows about it. She's not letting that slide.

You're in school. Its a break between classes. Next class is the 2nd, maybe 3rd? You aren't even sure anymore.

The weather has been awful since the morning, you really should've taken a thicker coat.

The classroom is too loud, too bring and too hot. You can barely breathe from how cramped it feels, even though half your class is out and about.

You can feel your head pulsing and your world spinning. It feels like you're full of hot air and you're floating like a balloon but still like your body is so heavy it can barely hold itself up. Shivers run up and down your body, you aren't sure if your body is boiling itself alive or you're freezing blue and purple all at once. You're so nauseous but still you're so thirsty. You've barely eaten any breakfast and still you feel like throwing up.

It all feels too much right now and going to the bathroom for some peace and quiet seems like your only choice. At least in there you won't feel like the air is so hot it would cook you alive.

The hallway seems like a claustrophobic hell - it's overflowing with students, its so cramped you can barely pass, the chatter feels like a thousand radios playing different static over each other.

You can barely walk as it is, but with the crowded hallway it seems almost impossible. It feels like you're floating around, everything seems so distant as if you're watching it on tv.

Suddenly you're in the bathroom.

Holding yourself up on the sink you don't even feel your legs anymore. You're burning up, your throat feels like its closing up and it feels like the ground is whirling under you.

You hear someone call your name and you can't even make out who it is. You're barely hearing through white noise and your world goes dark.

You wake up and you're in your bed, at home. You covered by soft blankets, still sick but at least safe and warm. The lamps are out, the only light is coming from the window. Its still gloomy outside, the sun hidden behind woolly silver clouds and the milky fog coverd everything beyond the neighborhood.

You can hear footsteps coming towards your room. You're now also aware of the chatter of tv and someone talking in the living room.

And your brother enters the room.

"OHMYGOD- Y/n, you're awake! How are you feeling? Do you need anything?? Did you know you have a fever?? Why did you come to school si-"

"QUIET! She's sick and you're yelling! Are you stupid?!"

Ayase is there to stop your brother from going on a rant, but she isn't any less quiet than him.

After that, they bring you food, water and medicine. They stay and talk, laugh, chase each other around and keep you company.

You're not sure if you'll ever get better or it will only get worse, but they're there for you anyway.

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Im not rlly sure how to write good older brothers, but ik whats not a good older brother and so im writing exactly what that isnt so i hope my method is working😌

I hope you enjoyed, my requests are open!!

[van-yangyin]

Alie Antennae for All Ages (2 Versions)

Request by @jessykosisimblr This is one of four antennae you request me, and that I will do (are too interesting to make just one!) Tho I will need to do it time by time because of huge number of files I make for each one 😆. Thank you! It has been a lot of fun to make, I hope you and all those who download it, like it. I hope this was exactly what you were looking for! I've made it in two versions because I love idea of metallic and skin versions.

Heart shaped antennas inspired by Alie Lectric in two versions, Metallic as original and Skin. Disclaimer: Antennae can't change color like the real ones when she gets shy, but they look great and you still have a choice of rainbow colors in metallic version.

❤️2 versions: Metallic and Skin (see pictures below) ❤️All ages ～ All genders and agender ❤️Metallic version: 18 swatches | Skin Version: 1 Swatch (Using texture from front forehead and upper head) ❤️Categories: Hat, Occult Brow, Birthmark Face and Mole Right Lip [Some need CAS Unlock to unlock category on some ages] (Feel free to change any category with Sims 4 Studio for your own needs) ❤️Texture for metallic version located in a little part of Bicep R so it can bug with some accessories that use this part of texture, tho that means too that Hat version don't conflict with any accessory that use hat texture. ❤️Base game Compatible ❤️All LODs ❤️separate packages or merged packages ❤️HQ Compatible for Metallic version ❤️Custom Thumbnails ⚠️Known problem: With Skin version if you use a skin detail/makeup/birthmark/etc... that uses part of texture forehead frontal part and/or head, in skin version may appear in this mesh, it may be a problem or interesting things may come up, who knows.

If you download my CC it means your agree with my T.O.U (English/Español/日本語).

～LOD Information～ Metallic/Skin: LOD0: 3312 poly | LOD1: 1652 poly | LOD2: 825 poly | LOD3: 412 poly

~❤️DOWNLOAD LINKS❤️~

※Choose download the one/ones you want the most or only download Merged/All Merged of each category or age or _All Merged of each type※ DO DON'T DOWNLOAD ALL PACKAGES, OTHERWISE YOU WILL HAVE REPEATED FILES (If you don't understand between merged or not merged feel free to ask me)

Metallic Version: ❤️PATREON or SFS❤️ (Always free, no adf|y) Skin Version: ❤️PATREON or SFS❤️ (Always free, no adf|y)

☆BECOME A PATREON | TIP ME ON KO-FI☆ 

Metallic Version:

Skin Version:

Let me know if you find any problem. 🙏❣️

Happy simming! 🍀💛

🛹 You can find me on Patreon | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Ko-Fi | My F.A.Q. 🛹

[worldsaparted]

id love to request a slight angsty fic where reader and johnny are best friends and reader likes johnny but johnny still loves ali so then the reader starts ignoring johnny and ends up taking his motorcycle bc she's so upset and gets hurt bc of it and then like johnny being so concerned and upset and ending with like an angsty love confession with him and reader hope this makes sense i really love your writing

I’m so sorry for the wait but thank you for this cute request! I hope I did it right!

The Flowers

It was evident that Johnny Lawrence and Y/n L/n were nearly attached at the hip for as long as they could remember. Their mothers were high school best friends and now - their children were.

It was a sensitive topic to Y/n though, of course Johnny was her best friend - she knew everything about him and he knew everything about her - but maybe the fact that the term best friend was as far as it would ever go did irk her.

As Johnny’s red car pulled to a stop in front of her white and blue house - she rushed out - carrying her belongings in hand as she threw them over and into his convertible, he glanced over from his spot - blasting his favorite cassette tapes and as Y/n took a seat, he gave a small smirk.

“Woke up on time, I see.” He began, and Y/n glanced over - her eyes rolling as she continued to organize her loose belongings.

“Just drive.”

Arriving at school on this particular Friday was quick, and as Johnny pulled to a stop - he handed the keys to Y/n - who was much better at taking care of them than him.

His eyes flickered around before he got out of the car - and he waited for Y/n to begin walking into school.

From any other point of view, you might’ve thought that Johnny Lawrence was head over heels for Y/n, and that Y/n L/n was head over heels for Johnny, and maybe it could’ve been true, but it was constantly denied.

Johnny Lawrence felt he knew where his heart stood, along with Ali Mills who dumped him 7 months ago, his eyes squinted at the sight of her with Daniel LaRusso, and he was quick to glance back over to Y/n when she called out his name - asking for him to zip her backpack up.

They quickly parted their ways for class - and as passing period going to 3rd came - Johnny Lawrence made his way to Y/n’s locker, she stuffed her belongings in, and met his eyes as he leaned his back against the locker just beside hers, he was close - and while she didn’t say anything, she felt it.

He flicked his hair to fix it, he was wearing his newest sweater, paired with his khakis that Y/n helped him pick out from JCPenney. More than that - he wore a deep black eye, and while he hated that he had to walk around with that, Y/n didn’t mind it. She studied his features, admiring them the slightest bit before he turned over, his eyes meeting hers. “Where’s Jenny?” He asked, his eyes glancing around as he asked for Y/n’a friend.

“Not here.” She responded in one breath, her eyes flickering to his lips as he stared off, though slowly - he looked back over.

“You gonna be with anyone at lunch?” He asked, now studying her expression. She was quick to shrug - closing her locker.

“No.”

Johnny thinned his lips and as the minute bell rung - he propped himself up and off of the locker. “I’ll meet you right here.” He spoke bluntly, already switching his binder from one hand to the other before making his way to his 4th period. With a sigh, Y/n shook her head.

“Johnny - ” she began, almost scolding him and the blonde boy gave a simple shrug before turning around - and opening up the double doors.

As lunch approached, and fourth period went by - Y/n sat in her math class, her legs crossed as she tapped her pencil against the desk - it was quiet as the rest of the class finished up their quiz, and she practically yearned for the bell to ring. Once it did, she quickly propped herself up from her desk and made her way out to her own locker.

Johnny Lawrence already stood against it, his eyes searching around - a judgmental look to them until they landed on Y/n. His expression softened, and he began making his way over, bumping those he didn’t like and finally - he stood in front of Y/n and placed his hands on his hips.

She clutched her binder against her chest - glancing up to him every time he spoke as they made their way to the cafeteria - shoulders brushing against eachother. He paid for her lunch along with his own, and they sat across from one another - eating it as they spoke.

His legs softly grazed hers, and he left it there - taking his water and drinking from it as she spoke of her math test, and this was enough. The way he looked at her, and the way his eyes never left her as she spoke - it was evident he loved her and while she couldn’t tell in what way - she admired that.

His protective instincts were up 100 % with her, and she could see that.

He dropped her off at home that day, saying his goodbye and sending his sweet smile as she made her way out.

While her Friday nights never occurred of much, she was excited to be home. She spent the day in her room - and as the sun began to set, she stirred in her seat, her mind stuck in the image of Johnny Lawrence and the feeling of his leg up against hers.

Y/n L/n took deep breaths before she snuck out her own window, it was getting darker and darker but Johnny lived a block away - so she wasn’t bothered with walking. Her breath raced, and she clutched Her fists by her side as she made her way over.

The Lawrence residence was nice and fancy, Y/n slowed to a stop as she turned - nervously sighing before making her way up the steps.

And on the walk over, she decided. She’d tell him. Exactly how she felt about him, she’d break it to him.

As she stepped up and out of the house, Johnny excited his front door - he held a small bouquet of flowers in hand - his eyes landing on Y/n and widening a bit.

Her heart stopped at the sight, was this the perfect timing or was she just the unluckiest girl to walk earth? Her eyes narrowed and she cleared her throat - both of them frozen.

“Where are you..going?” She gestured to his flowers, and Johnny looked down at them, clutching them in hand before turning back to her.

“Gonna go talk to Ali.” He informed, and T/n’s heart sank. It was the second one.

She hid the disappointment and nodded, and at that - Johnny lost a small sense of confidence. He gestured to her now. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“Well,” she glanced around, gulping nervously and swinging her hands by her sides. “I was gonna ask about seeing your..your bike. I just wanna mess around with it, I won’t go anywhere - I promise.” Her eyes landed on the motorcycle of Johnny’s and he furrowed his brows - looking over to his hike and then to her. To everyone else, he said no. But to Y/n, he’d allow it. He popped back into his house and grabbed the keys, handing them over to her and she took them - holding the keys up.

“Thanks, John.” She smiled, her breath shaky.

“Be careful.” He spoke sternly, making his way to his own car and it took so long for his eyes to leave hers but once they did - he got into his car, and he drove off.

At the sight of him gone, Y/n got onto the bike. Sure he’s guided her sometimes, and sure he taught her lots about these things so she figured why not test it?

As she turned the engine on, her heart began to race and she smiled the slightest bit. Maybe this was why Johnny loved it so much. The thrill.

Riding it was rocky at first, and she did feel out of place, to be riding in an outfit such as this. Her eyes checked the neighborhood frequently as she drove through and it wasn’t til she hit the main streets in which she began going fast.

Now, she was sure she got the hang of it, and she’d tell Johnny she was finally on his level now.

She wore her strongest jacket as it was getting colder out, and the wind blew strongly into her face, causing her to struggle a bit and she paid no attention to that until her altercation. Y/n found complete regret when she nearly crashed and collided with another car - her heart raced and instead of stopping, she steered around. Her eyes were everywhere until she attempted to make a left turn, and there - she was hit.

It was a good few minutes of calming herself down after that small problem with Johnny, but now - she was aching from her leg that clashed against the floor - the motorcycle pressing her down as well.

The last thing she truly remembered was her leg pain - and thankfully, she woke up in the Encino Hospital - she wore her own clothes though her jeans were cut off due to her leg injury. She sat there, and as she stirred awake - she took notice to the empty room.

Her parents had work and probably didn’t know - so she didn’t expect much - though at the sound of an angry boy who was snapping at doctors outside, she knew who her first visitor would be.

“Piss off, man - I know her.” And then, Johnny Lawrence came from the curtains. His eyes softened at the sight of her being okay, but still, he rushed to her side, kneeling down.

“What did you do?” He sounded mad, but also worried. His eyes searched hers and she struggled to find the right words, so she didn’t say anything - instead she gave a shrug.

“Did you do this on purpose? Did I make you mad?”

“Johnny, I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit your legs nearly crushed.” He seethed a bit, and Y/n took a deep breath, inching away from him and as he took notice to that - he calmed himself down. His cheeks were pink and he pulled a chair up, sitting beside her.

“I’m sorry about your bike - ” She said, and when it was silent in response, Y/n groaned. She should have expected for him to be like this, but it the fact that he was disappointed her.

“You’re mad at me?” She scoffed, and Johnny glanced over - nodding quickly. “How are you mad at me? I didn’t mean for this.”

“That’s the point, L/n. You didn’t mean for it but you didn’t think to put some thought into this? You’ve never rode a bike.” He exasperated; his hands were holding onto his knees and he shook his head.

“Are you scolding me right now?”

“Someone has to, right?” He gave her this remark, his voice just as loud as hers and she left her mouth parted - her eyes watering in the slightest, so naturally she looked away.

“If it were Ali Mills right here, would you be scolding her?” She spoke, after one big breath.

“What?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about?” His eyes slowly glanced up to her and she shrugged.

“Just a question.”

At this, Johnny’s heart stopped. His eyes were glued onto Y/n and she couldn’t even think to look back over at him, moving up from the chair, he took the extra space on the bed to sit there, facing her and attempting to make eye contact. “What are you talking about?”

Nothing.

Being the hothead he was, Johnny scoffed. His eyes averted from her and he looked up at the ceiling. “Ignore me then - I’ll just go, doesn’t feel like you want me here anyways.”

As he began to stir, getting up - Y/n glanced over - her eyes finally catching his. He stood, but he stayed, his eyes stuck on hers and she took a deep breath.

“Why were you giving Ali flowers?” As she asked this, she looked away once again and he sighed, his hands down by his sides and he blinked before answering.

But he could t give a clear response, he knew what this was about - he knew this subject too well. The longing of being with his best friend was something strong, and as he stammered for a response - her lips curved into a bitter smile.

“Don’t.” He began, pointing at her and she looked over - dropping the smile. “Don’t start with that, because you know why I went to her.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?” He scoffed.

“No, so tell me. Tell me why she gets those pretty flowers, John. Really, I wanna know.”

He gave a short sigh - shaking his head and he searched for a response before finding one, ranting. “Maybe because i wanted to, hm?”

He began stammering again, this was a record for Johnny Lawrence. In front of him was his girl, his. And he’d say that to himself but as he watched her swoon and distract herself with other guys, he could never think to show that.

“Did you?” Y/n asked, sarcastically, and with the same energy - Johnny responded.

“Yes. I did.” He gave a firm nod; and in the short pause he couldn’t help but switch his point. “You know damn well that I gave her those flowers because you were busy with Ricky for half of high school.”

Then, her heart stopped. She looked over and there Johnny was - his face turning red. “If I can fix things with Ali, why should I ever be jealous of you and the guys you walk with going to 6th? Or the guys that sit next to you in Physics..”

He went on, “Don’t ask me shit you already know the answer to.” He pointed his hand at her, and Y/n’s eyes narrowed - they never fought like this and right now was different. It was scary. But her heart raced and she wanted Johnny to know that she was angry too. Still, she responded with her voice soft.

“I don’t care about guys at school unless they’re you.” Her voice was low, and Johnny’s look of embarrassment and anger slowly faded. “You think I like seeing you fight over another girl? When all I care about is your attention?” Her voice grew louder now and she wanted to keep going - she wanted to get louder.

“When all I want, all I’ve ever wanted is you?!”

As she shook her head, taking a pause Y/n turned and before she could continue - she felt the soft tug on her shirt collar, Johnny was leaning one hand on her bed as he leaned over - and he pulled her lips into his. It was a needy kiss, he kept it rough because they were both pretty worked up and he was gentle when he sat down, moving his hands to cup her face.

He had so much to say as their lips went on against one another’s, but he wouldn’t start anywhere - anywhere other than, “I’m so in love with you.” He said this against her lips and smiled in her grip, she was okay and he softly rubbed circled on her cheeks with his thumb, nodding into the kiss.

[lemotmo]

Oh this interesting

Q. Do you have any idea why Deadline would have deleted only that line but not address the removal in any way?

A. I have a ton of asks about the Deadline writeup so I am going to answer as much as I can here to hopefully cover as many of the asks as I can. For context, and much to the disappointment of a certain group of people, Deadline is not equal to TVGuide, TVLine or Entertainment Weekly. They don't write opinion pieces. They don't have writers on staff who are assigned to watch a show and cover that show. That's not what they do. They are basically the AP News of Entertainment news, if that makes sense. They don't have a particular slant or side they gear their coverage towards. In other words they don't have Buddies or other fandom people on staff. Sorry to the 'mob' (for what it's worth though less than 200 people is not a mob) who wrote angry, threatening emails demanding its correction. Not a soul at Deadline read a single word of those emails, just like no one at ABC is reading those emails, but I digress. They report entertainment news. That's it. Trade news that is relevant information.

Also for what it's worth the information they were given would not have come from the show or even Tim, it would have come directly from an approved media release directly from ABC. The media relations department would have sent them a release directly and the release would contain the information they were okay with being reported regarding the show's renewal. Most of the time those memos would say something along the lines of 'approved for immediate release' meaning the journalist was free to write about everything the release covered. Occasionally those same releases will have a second section that will say something along the lines of 'hold for release until (fill in the blank date)'. That indicates the information in that section of the memo is not approved for release at that time but needs to be held for a write-up planned for a later date. So in this case either the memo ABC sent Deadline was missing the 'hold for release' direction, or the journalist missed the request (which is not likely because this is Deadline and that's not something they're likely to overlook). Or quite simply the article dropped sooner than it was supposed to. We will most likely never know which of these is the real reason, I'm personally leaning towards the article dropped earlier than it was supposed to, but it doesn't really matter. The other question I'm getting a lot is why the line would have been removed without Deadline or the journalist adding a 'correction' or 'this article has been amended to correct an error'. Deadline is not going to do that if what they wrote was factually correct but released earlier than it was supposed to be. Releasing the information earlier than it was supposed to be is not the same thing as calling the information incorrect or misleading. The journalist is not required to say he misspoke if he didn't actually misspeak. There is no factual error within the article. The information was just released earlier than ABC wanted. That's why there's no note or correction amendment to the article. It's that simple. No conspiracy theories. No caving to lunatics. ABC just wasn't ready for that particular angle to be confirmed yet. Hope that helps!

Thank you Nonny!

Just leaving this here, because I have gotten a lot of asks about this. Thank you for clearing this up Ali.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[novaursa]

ahhhh so happy to see ur request are back open!! love ur works so much ! can u do something for reader x aemond and its something like they was married and she was madly in love with him but when he meets alys rivers and he decides to accuse his wife of treason and infidelity which leads to her yk being executed. and everyone (otto, aegon, alicent) knows that the claims are false but doesn’t do anything about it <33 ! thank you in advance bookie

The Dagger's Kiss

- Summary: You loved Aemond since you were children, but what he did to Luke was a sin you could not forgive.

- Pairing: baratheon!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

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

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

The storm rages outside, howling winds rattling the ancient stones of Storm’s End. The great hall feels colder than usual, despite the roaring fire that blazes in the hearth. You stand beside Aemond, his presence a steady force amidst the chaos of the weather outside. His hand rests on the pommel of his sword, his face unreadable as he converses with your father, Lord Borros Baratheon.

The tension between them is visible, a silent battle of wills. Your father’s eyes flicker toward you, his jaw tightening before he finally nods.

“The Stormlands are yours, Aemond,” Borros rumbles, his voice as deep and grating as the waves crashing against the cliffs outside. “But I won’t have my daughter dragged into your family’s war.”

Aemond’s gaze shifts to you, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Y/N is my wife, Lord Borros. Her place is by my side, where she has always wanted to be.”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words. It’s true; you’ve loved Aemond since childhood, your affection blossoming over the years as he grew from a serious, studious boy into the fierce warrior who now stands before you. When he proposed marriage, you thought it was a dream, even knowing it was a political move. But he chose you, and that meant something. It meant everything.

“I can speak for myself, Father,” you interject gently, stepping forward. “I stand with my husband, wherever he goes.”

Borros’s face softens, just a fraction, before his expression hardens once more. “Then may the gods protect you both.”

Before Aemond can respond, the heavy doors of the hall swing open with a crash. A drenched figure stumbles inside, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. Prince Lucerys Velaryon, your cousin Rhaenyra’s son. The sight of him is like a knife to the chest. Your heart lurches, remembering the carefree days you shared with his mother, Rhaenyra—your beloved cousin, your dearest friend.

Lucerys’s wide eyes scan the room, settling on you for a brief, heartbreaking moment before darting to Aemond. “I come with a message from my mother, Queen Rhaenyra,” he announces, his voice trembling. “She asks that you, Lord Borros, honor your oath and remember your duty to her.”

Your father’s brow furrows, a scowl darkening his face. “And what of the promises your mother broke when she sent her sons here without offer of marriage, boy?”

You barely register the words, your gaze fixed on Aemond. His eye narrows, a predatory gleam flickering in its depths. You know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s ready to strike.

“Aemond,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please…”

But he shrugs off your hand gently, his focus unyielding on Lucerys. “I’ll not have bastards and traitors speak to me of oaths.” His voice is calm, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to it that makes your stomach twist. “You owe me an eye, nephew.”

Lucerys’s face pales. “I—I came as a messenger. I don’t want to fight.”

Aemond’s lips curl into a cold smile. “Then you should not have come, Lucerys.”

He turns to leave, and you feel your heart hammering against your ribs. “Aemond, don’t do this!” you plead, but he doesn’t look back. He strides out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.

The door slams shut, and you’re left standing in the echoing silence. You can barely breathe, your hands trembling as you stare after him. You know what he’s going to do. You can see it in his eyes, the same madness that once took hold of your grandfather Aerion Brightflame. The storm rages on outside, the winds screaming like the dragons of old.

“Father, please!” you beg, turning to Lord Borros, but his face is stony.

“He’s your husband now, girl. His choices are his own.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, the world spinning around you, before the doors are thrown open again. Aemond strides back into the hall, his face flushed with victory, his eye glittering with a savage light. He’s soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his skull, but he looks more alive than you’ve ever seen him.

“It’s done,” he announces, his voice ringing through the hall. “Prince Lucerys is dead.”

The world tilts beneath you. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head as if denying it could change what’s happened. “Aemond, what have you done?”

He steps closer, reaching for you, but you shrink back, horror clawing at your throat. “He attacked me, Y/N. I had to defend myself.”

You want to believe him, you want to hold on to the image of the boy you loved, the man you married. But the way he speaks, the pride in his voice—it’s not the Aemond you know. This is someone else, someone who has been twisted by hatred and vengeance.

“Rhaenyra… my cousin… Aemond, she will never forgive this,” you say, your voice breaking.

“Let her come,” he snarls, his face contorting with a rage you’ve never seen before. “I’ll deal with her as I dealt with her son.”

You feel the world collapsing around you, everything you’ve known and loved crumbling into ash. This is not what you wanted, not what you dreamed of when you stood beside Aemond, pledging your life to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife,” he says, his voice softening as he steps closer. He reaches out, cupping your face in his cold, wet hands. “You belong to me, as I belong to you. This is the price of loyalty, of love. You understand that, don’t you?”

You stare up at him, searching his face for some trace of the man you loved. But all you see is a stranger, a monster wearing your husband’s skin.

“I… I don’t know,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. “I don’t know if I do anymore.”

Aemond’s face darkens, his grip tightening on your chin. “You will,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “You will, Y/N.”

And in that moment, you realize that you are trapped—trapped by your love, your duty, and the man who stands before you, holding your heart and your fate in his bloodstained hands.

The journey back to King’s Landing is a blur, the days melting into one another as the memory of that night at Storm’s End lingers like a dark cloud. Aemond’s mood grows darker with each passing day, his patience shorter, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. You try to reach him, to understand the turmoil churning beneath his calm facade, but he shuts you out, his focus consumed by some unseen enemy.

When you finally arrive at the Red Keep, it’s as if the entire city holds its breath. Word of Prince Lucerys’s death has spread, and the reactions are mixed. Some cheer for Aemond’s act of vengeance, while others whisper in dark corners about the reckless cruelty of it. You feel like a ghost, drifting through the familiar halls that once felt like home, but now seem haunted by your own guilt and grief.

In the throne room, Aemond stands tall and proud, his chin lifted as he faces his mother, Alicent, and his grandfather, Otto Hightower. They’re all there—Aegon, lounging on the Iron Throne with a smirk playing on his lips, Helaena watching quietly from the shadows, her eyes distant and unfocused. 

“You did well, Aemond,” Otto says, his voice cold and calculating. “This was a necessary step. The Blacks will think twice before challenging our rule.”

Aemond nods, his expression blank. “It had to be done. He was a traitor.”

Alicent steps forward, her face softening as she looks at her son. “You’ve proven your strength, Aemond. But please, be careful. This war… it will tear us all apart.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel a pang of sympathy for her. She’s a mother caught between love for her children and the brutal realities of power. But then Aegon laughs, a harsh, grating sound that grates on your nerves.

“Oh, Mother, don’t worry so much. Aemond did what needed to be done. The boy was a bastard, and now he’s dead. Simple as that.”

You can’t hold back any longer. “He was a child!” you snap, the words bursting out before you can stop them. “Lucerys was just a boy!”

Aemond’s head snaps around, his eye blazing with fury. “Watch your tongue, wife,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. “Do not forget where your loyalties lie.”

Your heart sinks, but you hold your ground, your eyes never leaving his. “My loyalties? I’ve stood by you, Aemond, through everything. But what you did… it wasn’t justice. It was murder.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Alicent’s face pales, and even Otto looks momentarily taken aback. Aegon’s smirk falters, his eyes flicking between you and Aemond with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Aemond’s expression hardens, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You know nothing of justice,” he says coldly. “You’ve lived your life in comfort, protected by your father’s name and your family’s power. You have no idea what it means to fight for something.”

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I fought for you, Aemond. I’ve always fought for you. But I can’t—” Your voice breaks. “I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

You turn and leave the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest. The walls of the Red Keep seem to close in around you as you make your way to the courtyard, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and sorrow. You don’t know where you’re going—just away, anywhere away from this nightmare.

The courtyard is quiet, the stables bustling with activity as the grooms prepare your horse. You’ve made up your mind. You can’t stay here, not with Aemond like this, not with the memory of Lucerys haunting every corner of your thoughts.

“Lady Y/N, your horse is ready,” the stablehand says, his eyes wide with concern as he helps you to the saddle. But before you can mount, a hand grips your arm, yanking you back.

Aemond stands before you, his face a mask of fury. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, his voice shaking with rage.

“I’m leaving, Aemond,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself.”

“Destroy myself?” He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “I’m doing what must be done, Y/N. For our family, for our future. And you would abandon me?”

“I’m not abandoning you!” you cry, your heart breaking at the look in his eye. “I love you, Aemond, but I can’t be a part of this anymore. I can’t watch you become—”

“Become what?” he snarls, his grip tightening painfully on your arm. “What am I becoming, Y/N? Tell me!”

You struggle against his hold, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “Someone I don’t recognize,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Someone I can’t follow.”

His face twists with a fury that is almost madness. “You swore to stand by me, to be my wife, my partner. You promised!”

“I know,” you sob, your voice breaking. “But this isn’t what I wanted, Aemond. This isn’t what I thought—”

Before you can finish, you feel a sharp pain in your chest, a burning, searing agony that steals the breath from your lungs. You look down, your eyes widening in horror as you see the hilt of Aemond’s dagger buried in your chest, his hand still gripping it tightly.

The world seems to slow, everything fading to a muted blur. You look up at him, your lips forming his name, but no sound comes out.

Aemond’s face changes, the fury melting into something else—something like fear, or maybe regret. He pulls the dagger free, and you stumble, the ground rushing up to meet you as you fall.

“No, no, no…” His voice is a broken whisper, his hands trembling as he catches you, cradling you against his chest. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to…”

The pain is overwhelming, a crushing weight that steals the air from your lungs, the light from your eyes. You can barely see him now, his face blurring into darkness as your world begins to slip away.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice choked with grief. “I love you, Y/N. Please, stay with me.”

But it’s too late. The darkness is pulling you under, your body growing cold and heavy in his arms. You try to hold on, to reach out to him, but your strength is gone, your breath slipping away like the tide.

And then there’s nothing but darkness, the world fading to black as you fall into the void, his voice the last thing you hear, echoing in the silence of your dying mind.

[tardisblueten]

Someone made an imagine scenario of The Doctor and reader going to an alien sex club (where couples were going at it in glass cages) and he takes her into a glass cage for them to use

My imagination can only do so much, I need this to be a full fic, please

•18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! •

Warnings: nsfw, voyeurism, exhibitionism, alcohol, afab-fem!reader. Notes: Thank you for the request! I hope I did it justice. Also credit to the original imagine author! Enjoy <3

The unusual techno music was thumping so loud you almost didn’t hear the roar of the excited crowd of aliens filling the exotic nightclub. It was dimly lit by neon strobe lights and was a struggle to see anything in front of you besides the endless thick sea of colorful creatures skimpily dressed in foreign styles you’ve never seen anything like before. The bodies swayed and danced to the strange song and it was hard to not stare in curiosity.

You almost jumped a mile when you felt the Doctor nudge your shoulder from behind you. You turned and he was holding two small glasses of some sort of cloudy neon blue liquid. “Here! Try this!” He pushed the condensation soaked glass into your hand with a wide-eyed toothy smile. He looked like an overly excited dog bringing you a bone. You had to strain to hear him over the booming music and the hooping crowd of aliens. You hesitatingly took the drink from him. “…What is it?” You scoffed wearily at the Doctor. “No idea!” He beamed before speedily throwing the blue liquid back like a shot, then wincing and jutting his tongue out. Well that’s reassuring… You thought. “This is my second one! Then I thought ‘ohh Y/N would love this!’” He howled.

Only his second one, huh? You rolled your eyes. Just then an alien parading a pare of bare blue tits squeezed through the crowd right in front of you and that was all it took for you to throw the drink back with no hesitation. The Doctor cackled at your shell shocked face. The blue drink had a sweet fruity taste at first that quickly burned into nothing but cold bitterness, making you wince as well. It was nothing like anything you had back on Earth, that’s for sure. “C’mon, let’s do another.” The Doctor grabbed your hand and woozily led you both to the front of the sardine packed room where the neon decorated bar was.

You already felt pretty dizzy as you let your hands drop down on the cold table of the bar. The slapping sound was barely audible due to the boom of the chaos around you. Your mind just kept replaying the question of what you just consumed and what club this even was. “You alright?” The Doctor asked, half concerned-half mocking, snapping you out of your looping thoughts. You looked up at him and saw two new yellow drinks were suddenly in his hands. “This planet is known for especially strong liquor. We can stop whenever you’d like.” He winked and chuckled as he handed you your cup then started sipping his own. You rolled your eyes and laughed. You willingly took your drink and began sipping the strong concoction. The both of you decided to take this round a little slower, enjoying the new gleeful buzz.

You took this time to try to make sense of what was happening in the club around you. You were only wearing jeans and a sweater but felt severely overdressed and as modest as a nun seeing all the next-to-nude or fully nude people. That’s when you finally noticed it. Just over your shoulder, behind the bar, was a stage. The stage bore two large glass cylinders. Inside each cylinder were completely naked alien couples. At first you thought they were swaying along to the loud music. You swung your head around to the Doctor with a bewildered, cringing grin on your face, only to see his gaze was almost glued to the couples in the glass cages. He looked mesmerized. You chuckled awkwardly, utterly confused, and then slowly turned your view back to the stage. You squinted, straining your line of vision in the dark room. You noticed they weren’t dancing. They were fucking.

Each alien couple was somehow connected at the hips. The first tank had a yellow lady with large bouncing tits, riding on top of the blue man. His dick wasn’t human like at all. You could only see so much from your bar stool but from what you could tell, there were purple tentacles attached all over his member. The pink woman from the other couple was on all fours. Her face was scrunched into a euphoric grin while the green man plowed into her from behind. You now understood why the Doctor was so focused on the obscene show. The way they moved was almost hypnotic. It was like an erotic train wreck. You had to force yourself to look away.

Your face was red hot. There was another heat that was naturally starting to bloom between your thighs that were now tightly pressed together in your seat. You felt shame for being turned on by the bizarre performance. You felt even more shame for even being in the club in the first place. And you felt ultimate shame for being there right beside the Doctor… You slowly looked at your partner for some kind of explanation you hoped he had to give you. The lower half of his face was hidden behind his now empty glass. He finally peeled his stare away from the erotic show and looked at you. His alluring brown eyes were heavy with something you couldn't place your finger on. “Doctor…” You tried breaking the awkward tension. The blaring bass barely allowed your uncomfortable speech to be heard by your companion beside you. “I kind of forgot…” He let out an awkward chuckle. You couldn’t tell if that was a lie or not. “This planet is also very famous for their… parties.” His eyes flickered to the direction of the obscenity behind you and then he snickered into his empty cup. “Parties…?” You raised your eyebrows at him with an uncomfortable laugh. “The mating rituals on this planet go way back. Now, it may seem very bizarre to your culture but these rituals are very sacred to the people here.” He put his cup down on the bar table. “Now days the tradition is still being celebrated but in a more modern fashion.” You just stared at the man. Not even knowing what to think. “Being selected to perform the act on stage for a big audience in a club like this is the highest honor. People can get very competitive over the chance to be chosen. What a thrill that must be!” He had to be joking, right?

You blinked at him. His remarks kept echoing through your tipsy head. You turned to watch the show again curiously. The first couple had apparently switched positions while the Doctor was busy explaining what was going on. The woman was now on her back with her legs straight in the air, the man thrusting behind her thick thighs. The other couple was still in the similar position from earlier but the lady was now sitting up on her knees while the man was still behind her. They both proudly wore big smiles. As you observed the show in a hypnotized state, you couldn't help but try to fantasize what it would be like to be in their places. To be fucked like that in front of a captivated audience who cheered for you. The woman’s hand was reached behind her to adoringly caress the alien man’s cheek as the front of his hips slapped the plush of her ass over and over. Out of the two couples, you were naturally drawn to the second one. The pair truly looked like they were having genuine fun. They were grinning and leaning into each other’s touch. The other duo looked too serious. Bored, even. It wasn’t as captivating like the others. You couldn’t look away. Before you knew it, you had been watching for at least fifteen minutes. Though you couldn’t possibly hear it from your seat, you could tell the passionate couple was moaning loudly with the way their heads were thrown back, their jaws hung open, and their face scrunched in pleasure. The guy began to quicken his pace behind the woman before abruptly stopping and clutched his arms tightly around her torso, his green hands squeezing her gorgeous breasts. The alien voyeurs roared with loud hoops and cheers. He buried his face into her shoulder and the two rested in this position, visibly panting and sweating.

You looked around you and saw all the alien clubbers cheering and going ballistic over the show’s grand finale. You looked back over at the stage and discovered the first couple had stopped. You didn’t notice if they had finished as well while the other duo had stolen all the attention or not. They just stopped the act all together sometime while the other tank was busy. They were sitting awkwardly far apart from each other. As far as the glass cage could allow them. The woman had her arms crossed. She looked deeply upset. “Ah, seems like we have a winner! The crowd favorite.” The Doctor stated with a smirk. You could barely look at him. Your cheeks were flushed pink with guilty arousal. “Winner? It’s a competition?” You asked, intrigued. “Not traditionally no, but to spice things up these days- typically the viewers will pick a favorite couple. They’ll go crazy when they… finish.” He informed. “So- What do they win?” You awkwardly chuckled. This whole thing was absurd. “The couple will usually get awarded by some of the planet’s leaders. It’s a big thing.”

“Congratulations to the winners!” You heard someone announce over a loud microphone. It came from a tall woman who sat regally in a golden, flowered covered chair that was on stage right. You never even noticed she was there that whole time because you were too hypnotized by the acts in the glass cylinders. She was completely nude except for the scarce jewelry made of pink flowers that adorned small sections of her blue body. She wore a crown made of pink and purple exotic plants. She must be one of the leaders the Doctor was talking about. “Beautiful performance, Creesto and Jariana. Simply beautiful. Thank you.” She put her hand over her heart towards the victorious partners who smiled and embraced each other with joyful tears in their eyes.

As the head-woman crowned and sang the praises of the victors with the crowd of aliens, you turned to look at the Doctor. He was clapping and whooping along. You rolled your eyes and just laughed. You felt compelled to clap your hands with them so you gave in. “Do we have any others that would like to give us our final performance of the season?” The blue woman announced over the microphone. You saw dozens of hands shoot up. “Wouldn’t that be an honor!” Chimed the Doctor beside you with an eager beam. You just snickered along to his joke. That’s when you watched him raise his hand with the extra terrestrial onlookers.

Your heart sank along with all the blood in your once rosy face. “Doctor…” You clawed at his arm as a desperate attempt to make him put his arm down and remain unnoticed with you. But his surprisingly strong arm remained proudly in the air like a flag. You shrunk in your seat beside him, horribly mortified. There were countless colorful arms up in the air amidst you. There was absolutely no way the leader would pick your friend out of all of the aliens jumping up and down with greed to be chosen. Right? “What is that over there?” The blue woman mumbled into the microphone as she shielded the magenta stage lights with her hand from her ethereal black eyes. You sat up and frantically attempted to pull the Doctor’s arm down. “No, no, no, no.” You pleaded. You were not about to watch your best friend fuck a random alien on stage. No way. Just thinking about him being intimate with another soul made your heart ache with jealousy and sadness. All those unspeakable dreams you often had suddenly rushed through your mind as your nails clawed helplessly at the Doctor’s sleeve. He couldn’t do this and you couldn’t watch.

“Forgive me if my eyes are deceiving me but-“ The regal alien announced. “Is that a human?” Oh no. The Doctor whipped his head to look at you with his slightly intoxicated cheeky grin. You wanted to run away. Just melt into the floor beneath you. But there you sat. Every single eye on you. “I- um.” you began, not knowing what to do. “Beautiful human girl,” the chairwoman said to you. “Would you bless us in closing out our mating season?” She gracefully held her hand out to you from across the room. Your heart pounded in your ears. That time you spent trying to imagine what it would be like to be fully naked and exposed up on that stage was all of a sudden close to becoming reality. "Your handsome male beside you is also welcomed to accompany you." She smiled with proud eyes. You looked staggered at the Doctor with wide eyes and your jaw nearly on the floor. “I would love to accompany you.” The Doctor said lowly where only you could hear. “If you’d like.” He added with a smug grin. You thought about it. If you were to do this, you would much rather share the sacred experience with the Doctor rather than a complete extra terrestrial stranger. The more you thought about it, you had to admit... the thought of having sex- with the man you loved most, especially- in front of hundreds of people, turned you immensely, accompanied by a thrilling adrenaline rush. You looked around at all the obsidian eyes on you. They didn’t look at you with lust or objectification. They instead looked at you with innocent excitement at the idea of a beautiful human girl performing in their beloved and sacred ceremony. You could tell how much this meant to them, and the Doctor as well, who was also beaming with eagerness. The thing you loved most about traveling with your friend was the love you both shared of just living life and trying new experiences.

“I’ll do it.” You yelled. The room went wild. “Why the hell not?” You grabbed a shot from the table and downed it back, hoping it would give you more confidence. “Fuck, are we really doing this?” You whispered anxiously into the Doctor’s ear while you both strutted to the stage, surrounded by the thunderous excited chatter. “You can always change your mind.” He squeezed your hand and gazed deeply into your eyes with a comforting smile. You glanced behind you to size up the exotic viewers. Your heart was racing as you were already imagining yourself getting fucked in front of everyone. It turned you on like hell. His firm hand held your shaking one to help you up the stairs to the stage and then he stood proudly beside you. "Your male," The superior gestured towards the Doctor. Her authoritative voice commanded silence from the crowd. “He is mightily handsome.” The Doctor humbly smiled down at his red shoes with his hands behind his back. “And you,” she gently caressed your chin with the tip of her long blue finger. “Are the most stunningly gorgeous human woman.” You blushed as the onlookers yelled in agreement. “How blessed are we tonight!?” She yelled to the room. Your ears were starting to ring from the powerful applause.

The alcohol buzzed throughout your warm body and gave you a newfound surge of confidence. Now you knew why the alcohol was so strong there. “Please, let us not waste anymore time. You may begin anytime you like.” She gestured to the the glass cage. A buff stage hand wheeled the other cylinder off stage as the Doctor eagerly walked to the remaining one. You caught his elbow, “Wait- I thought it was a competition?” You whispered in his ear. He started to take off his converse and you followed along, doing the same. “This is the final ritual of the mating season. It’s just us. How lucky!?” He exclaimed and climbed inside the glass tank. You took a deep breath and joined him. The door sealed and the house got eerily quiet in anticipation.

“You can always say no, Y/N.” Your companion grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes with concern. He could tell you were nervous. “No-“ You quickly replied, “I want to do this.” You smiled, now feeling braver. And wetter. “With you.” You whispered coyly, taking another deep breath. The Doctor smirked and pulled you into a peck. It was tender yet sent electric sparks throughout your body. Fuck, this is really happening, was all you could think. You tested the waters by slightly deepening the kiss. His hands snaked to your waist before you hastily threw your hands to his hair, tugging him in even deeper. You slipped your tongue between his soft lips, finally tasting the sweet taste of him that you could only dream about. His tongue attacked yours back as he gingerly leaned you down onto the cream colored cushions beneath you. He hovered over your body as you lay down, never breaking the passionate connection. You could taste the foreign alcohol on his breath as you both panted. You threw your arms around his neck as he began to kiss your neck and collarbone, licking sensitive spots on your skin that made you moan.

You almost jolted when you heard the onlookers cheer, suddenly reminding you of where you were. And what you were doing. Your now opened eyes looked at the Doctor with furrowed brows. He sweetly smiled and nodded, reassuring you everything is okay. He was right there with you. You could stop whenever you wanted. Your anxious expression transitioned into a devilishly aroused smirk at the thought of putting on a show like this. He finally began to remove your fuzzy sweater. He kissed along your exposed chest while snaking his hands to your back to diligently unclasp your bra. The viewers cheered at the sight of your tits on display. Not only were you now exposed to the man you loved most, but also hundreds of alien strangers. Your heart began to pound against your chest even faster. You liked the feeling of the cold air hitting your sensitive nipples as you watched the large crowd ogle at them directly. It made you feel vulnerable and exposed, yet incredibly special and sexy. Wanted. The Doctor chuckled at the oglers reactions while he started to remove his own tie and shirt. You began to gingerly trace your fingertips along his smooth chest. His skin was hot to the touch, sending more sparks to your own heat. You needed him. You no longer cared that you were in front of an audience. You needed him and you needed to show everyone how much you needed him. You pushed the brunet’s shoulders down onto the cushion under him and mounted his lap, unbuttoning his blue trousers while he grabbed at your own buttons. When you were both finally freed of your bottoms, you could now comfortably grind on his incredibly hard erection while he whined into your kiss. You couldn't believe this was actually happening. You dreamt of this exact moment for so long. You rid him of his boxers and slid your hand to his throbbing cock. You and the spectators both gawked at the sight. It twitched pathetically in your grasp while you stroked it while simultaneously kissing his neck and nipping at his ear. Your eyes flickered to the audience under your eyelashes, hoping so far you were giving them a show they’ll remember.

He threw his head back when your thumb rubbed underneath his sensitive pink tip. An ivory bead of precum slowly rolled down your finger and onto his pale base that was adorned with beautiful dark hair. You loved how much he was enjoying this. His cock was begging to be used by you more. His audience was not even a thought in his mind anymore as he watched the erotic sight of you ridding yourself of your panties and pushing his dick between your soft folds. You lulled your head to the side and moaned at the feeling of his shaft caressing your clit while you sluggishly rocked your hips. “Fuck-“ He groaned and grabbed your hips. You were soaking wet from this whole bizarre situation that you drenched his forlorn cock completely. The Doctor quickly grew impatient. He tossed you down on your back and kneeled between your thighs which had your slick dribbling down them.

The voyeurs audibly gasped at this new position. “It’s mandatory the woman cums first.” He whispered in your ear. Your heart felt like it was about to fly out of your chest at the thought of all of these strangers watching you be pleasured. The man got on his elbows in front of your cunt like it was his sole purpose and duty in life. He dove into your heat, nose first, pushing your lips aside hungrily. You almost screamed at the feeling of his warm tongue sliding across your sensitive pussy. His tongue flicked across your clit, sucking and slurping at the nectar you so graciously fed him. Your hands pulled on his hair frighteningly tight. The people loved this. They loved watching beautiful women feel pleasure. They loved watching you. You almost saw stars when you felt his tongue flick your clit faster. Your thighs clamped tightly against the Doctor's head as your back arched off the cushions and your orgasm snuck up on you. His suction never left your pussy as your body spasmed from the powerful waves of euphoria washing over you. You ears rang. Your legs shook. The roaring cheers echoed throughout your skull as your body finally calmed down and your partner’s tongue slowly departed from your soaked cunt. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned looking at the strings of your arousal clinging to his chin. Your face flushed bright red as realization of it all set in. You rolled your head to the side to look at the club, grinning in a daze at your adoring fans.

Before you even had time to catch your breath, the Doctor was lining up his aching cock to your weeping hole. He slowly inserted his length, biting his lip and groaning at the warm resistance. You gasped at the stretch and clung your nails to his forearms. “Darling…” He whined at you. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” After what felt like a painfully slow eternity, he finally bottomed out and caressed your cheek with his lanky hand. You gripped his arms tighter as he began to thrust his hips slowly. You shamelessly looked over at your viewers. You loved the hypnotized look on their faces as you let your best friend make love to you. They never broke stare with the obscene sight of the thick cock that plunged into your dripping pussy. “Hey,” The Doctor gently tipped your chin to look at him. The way he looked at you made your heart do somersaults. “Look at me.” He whispered tenderly. His chocolate brown eyes twinkled with something you've never seen from him before. For just a moment you could almost believe it was just you two. Completely alone. Alone in the Tardis or your bedroom back at home. Just like you had always secretly imagined. You grinned into his warm hand and let the pleasure consume you once more.

He used his free hand to rub circles on your clit. Your back once again arching off the cushions. “Oh shit-“ you hissed. Taking advantage of your new angle, he lifted your hips in the air with both hands, fucking your pussy with an entirely different feeling. His tip now kissing parts of you way deeper than before. Your mind was going blank as the fire in your abdomen began to grow hotter and higher. “D-darling-“ he cried out. His face was flushed pink and glowing with sweat. His arms quickly flew around your torso, pressing you both tightly against each other's warm bodies, as if him being inside you wasn't close enough. Your previous orgasm from just minutes before still made you mind-numbingly sensitive. Your walls twitched around his length while you held on to his damp back. His thick cock kept fucking that spot inside you just right. Your eyes squeezed shut and you tensed up. "D-doctor..." you whimpered loudly in his ear. You could hear his pants grow heavier as his hips sped up. You were both so close. The base of his cock, that was just below his naval, rubbed deliciously against your clit as he pounded into your pussy, leaving his skin completely soaked.

Your eyes rolled over to the side where you saw the audience going wild over you two. You saw their mouths wide open as they roared with cheers and clapped their colorful hands, but you couldn't hear a thing. Your ears rang as you suddenly started to cum around the Doctor's thick cock. You couldn't hear your own screams of pleasure while your fingernails dug into his back and you started to see white. His erratic hips stuttered and his grasp on you tightened. You gasped when you felt the thick, hot ropes of his seed spilling into you. You didn't even notice you were starting to drool saliva on his shoulder as his hips slowly came to a stop. You both held onto each other panting as your orgasms died down. The Doctor's final spurts of cum emptied into you making you gasp once more.

Your hearing was finally coming back as you tried to catch your breath. The once high pitched ringing silence faded into the thunderous roars of the hundreds of alien spectators. They loved the show. They loved you. You lethargically peered back at your fans and smiled. They about lost their minds. The Doctor continued to hold you close for a few moments while he kissed your red hot cheeks, then finally stood up, stretching his hand out to help you back to your trembling feet as well. "Stars," You heard over the cheers. The chairwoman gracefully strode towards your glass cage. "That was the most beautiful show I ever had the privilege of seeing. Thank you..." She was visibly overcome with emotion. The adrenaline (and maybe the alcohol from earlier) made you feel like you were floating high above the room. The Doctor embraced you in a sweaty hug while you both shared sentimental grins.

"Please, we would love to reward you for your beautiful performance of passion," The blue woman gestured at you both. The Doctor opened the glass door for you and helped you climb out. The two of you stumbled over to the front of the stage, still completely nude, where the tall woman placed carefully crafted ropes of beautiful pink and purple exotic flowers around each of your necks. The Doctor hugged you once again as the onlookers screamed your praises. You felt like a movie star as you basked in their applause. "So proud of you," he whispered sincerely in your ear. It was definitely an experience to remember.

[daenysx]

Heyy! ♡ Idk if you take nsfw requests (and if you don't that's perfectly fine), but could you possibly write a fic where Aemond comforts reader in their bed leading up to more after hearing rumours about Alys but reassuring her that they're not true?

i'm taking nsfw requests, thank you for requesting angel!! i hope you enjoy this ♡ requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, smut

aemond presses a kiss to your knee and suddenly you forget what you say.

"you know." he starts. "you know you're the only one."

you shake your head, your head on pillow with your leg in his hand.

"there's no one but you." he says again. "how can there be when i'm literally wrapped around your finger, huh?"

he kisses your thigh until he reaches the waistband of your tiny shorts. you cup his cheek with the last piece of strength you have. "that's not what they say, aemond."

aemond places himself on top of you gracefully, his face right in front of yours. "look at me, sweetheart." he whispers. "you know me. you know what you mean to me. do i look like i'd thrown everything i have with you just to have an affair with that woman just like they say? i'm not a fucking idiot nor a cheater."

your hand lingers on his cheek. "i know you." you start. "but i don't want people to spread rumors about you, about us like this. i don't want them to picture you and alys in their heads as if you're-"

"shh." aemond whispers. "i know."

he kisses your lips lightly. "people will talk. i can't always stop their words but- i can prove you how wrong they are."

you lean in to kiss him, he accepts the kiss greedily. he holds the back of your head, deepens the kiss. you close your eyes to him, you want to forget everything you heard, everything you saw. you believe in aemond and your love but you're frustrated with people's boldness, how can they claim to know anything about your relationship? how can they try to spread false information about your boyfriend?

aemond breaks the kiss, he spreads your legs with kind hands. he leans into your belly, his breath warms your skin. "it looks like my pretty girl needs some convincing, yeah?" he whispers against your cunt, his voice makes your head spin. he kisses your belly. his kisses draw a line from your belly to your cunt, his lips curve upwards when you squirm.

he takes off your shorts quickly, you put your calves back on his shoulders. he looks like a statue, all muscular and flawless. his hair tickles the skin of your thighs as he leans more, his chin grazes the top of your cunt and you arch your back.

"relax." he says. "i'll make you feel good."

"i know." you mumble. it's not the first time he eats you out, definitely will not be the last with the enthusiasm he shows towards the act. he brushes a slow kiss on your skin to start and brings his fingers to your center.

"aemond-" you whisper when he spreads you open. he looks pleased, you can almost feel how you drip down on the sheets. you squirm under his touch again, he gives you a lick to begin with.

"please." you say when he doesn't continue. you push your hips against his lips. "please, please."

he likes the teasing part the most, the slow and cautious seconds to get you where he wants. he opens his mouth to catch your wetness, you take a deep breath when his warm tongue licks your skin. you let out a moan of his name, he's so fucking good at it. it's maddening, so insane; the thought of him doing this to another woman. there are people out there who believes this shit?

aemond starts sucking your swollen bud, his fingers keep playing with you at the same time. you lift your head from the pillow, your hand goes to aemond's head to keep him still. he hums against you, such a pleasent sound. he doesn't move his head, his tongue is warm as he keeps licking your wetness.

"aemond-" you start, his two fingers find your g-spot and you feel him press against it relentlessly. you are really close to lose yourself, the wet sounds coming from between your legs increase and your heart beats faster.

your boyfriend has always been a quick learner, he is the most ambitious person you know and when he wants to be good at something he doesn't stop. sometimes you think he knows your body better than you. he reaches the places you can't reach by yourself with his long fingers, his fingertips press gently but firmly against your skin.

"please- i can't-" you mumble incoherently. aemond looks up to you, his eye glints with a burning desire. his tongue keeps your clit between his lips at he keeps stroking your g-spot, you make a loud noise when he stops suddenly.

"what-"

"come for me." he says firmly. he sucks your clit once again, his fingers inside you. "now."

you are on the edge of insanity, clenching hard around his fingers as you come. it's both a relief and madness, the way he holds you when your sight goes blank, how he presses himself to bed just to give himself a second to focus on you. he is undeniably hard but he has a point to prove.

you lay on bed, eyes closed and body limp. the stress and frustration coming with those rumors were hard on you, you can't even lift your head to see aemond. he kisses your thighs as you come down from your high, he lays next to you. his eye looks at your relaxed face with the hope of affection.

"i never wanted you to hear them." he says lowly. "i don't want them to ruin what we have."

you manage to turn to your side. opening your arms, leading him towards your chest to put his head on your shoulder. he wraps his arms around you in a second, kisses the soft skin of your neck as he inhales your scent.

aemond sounds a bit more terrified than he aims to show. sometimes it feels like you are the only thing in his life that makes sense, he looks at you and can't believe his luck. the thought of your relationship could be ruined because of some stupid business dinner he had with alys rivers makes him sick to his stomach. don't they see how he looks at you? his eye sparks every time you enter a room. he would give anything and everything you ask from him, only to see you smile to his direction.

he has fallen hard for you and selfishly he wants to keep you to himself. he keeps the details of your relationship secret mostly to keep you from harm. maybe that's not enough. maybe he should let everyone know. he doesn't know what to do, right this moment in your arms, it's only your warmth and your lips against his skin that he can think about.

"it's not your fault." you say, playing with his hair. "i shouldn't let these rumors affect me. i think i was- caught off guard. it's not that i believe into their words it's just- the thought of you and her."

aemond wrinkles his nose. "there's no such a thing, my love." he rubs his nose to your skin. "please."

"i know." you say when his arms tightens around you. "i believe in you, only you."

aemond's heart takes a leap every time you say something precious like this to him. he'll hold onto that feeling no matter what happens. god knows it's the only think that keeps him sane these days.

[skeletwinsauaskbox]

Hey, guys. It's Ali-Anne, though you probably already knew that lol.

I've been thinking lately. It's been really fun to discover your OCs and roleplay and things like that, but the previous question made me realise that maybe I'm being a bit too lenient with the roleplay requests. If you remember a few months back, I said I didn't want this to become a roleplay blog. This is an ask blog for my own AU and my own story. I made this, hoping people would be interested in what I have to offer. And from what I can tell, it's been a huge success! I've noticed that a lot of people are actually interested in the lore of this AU. However, there is one thing I have to discuss.

The roleplays. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but as I said, I don't want this to be a roleplay blog. So I'm making the executive decision to not allow anyone to start any more roleplays. Full stop. No more new roleplays from this point on. For those who are in the middle of a roleplay, I won't cut those short, we can finish those. But once they're done, they're done. And no dragging them out for longer than necessary, either. It's been fun, but I think I'm finished with roleplaying on this blog. I'm done.

As for OCs, it's really cool to learn more about them, you're more than welcome to continue talking about them. However, please remember that this blog isn't about your OCs. It's taken me so long to type this out because I don't want to come across as selfish or irrational. I really, truly do like your OCs, and I don't want to stop your creative flow. However, I would like it if you would talk about them more in moderation? Because sometimes it's like my ask box fills up with people just talking about their OCs and nothing else, to be honest. I know that's not the case, and I don't know why I feel that way. I'm more than happy to let you continue talking about your OCs, but please dial it back a bit. That's all I'm asking. Thank you.

Anyway, I'm just gonna revise the rules once more and go to sleep. Thanks for all of your support, guys.

[lavender-vixen]

hiiii omg read your last fic and it was so good ? loooved it but if you’re taking requests what if patrick survived the sewers and comes back like nothing happened nd readers crying over him literally thinking he died and patrick’s just like “🧍‍♂️”

i like that idea ♡

it had been four days. four agonizing days since patrick had vanished, and you’d heard nothing. at first, it was easy to brush off — he was a bit of a loner, always disappearing for days, skipping school, leaving you in suspense about what he was up to. but this time, there were whispers, rumors of kids missing in the sewers. you didn’t want to believe it. but you couldn’t stop wondering, couldn’t stop the sick feeling that maybe… maybe patrick had gone down there too and met a similar fate.

there was talk of a serial killer or kidnapper stalking the streets of derry, hiding out in sewers, luring the local kids. but patrick wasn't an idiot, you thought. he wouldn't be easily lured or tricked into getting in a white van for candy, nor would he be easy to grab.

but it didn't look good. the search had been fruitless. first of all, his parents hadn’t even reported him missing until the third day. his mom was a wreck, praying non-stop at st. cecilia's catholic church. his dad? a picture of indifference, as if this was all just another one of patrick's antics.

"he'll turn up," he kept assuring local authorities, though each day of no clues or signs of patrick brought out a less confident, more volatile mr. hockstetter. patrick's parents were younger than most high school parents in derry, and mr. hockstetter looked almost identical to patrick when he stared off vacantly, nodding absently to the police as they updated him, deeply frowning and crossing his muscled arms across his chest rigidly.

you wanted to believe it was just talk, that maybe patrick had run off to the next town over, like henry bowers and his gang were saying. that he’d hitchhiked to see the kiss concert everyone had been buzzing about. you hoped that was it. henry was usually right when it came to his best friend, and patrick had been talking about that concert for weeks.

but there was that sick feeling, gnawing at you. the police had their own theory — patrick may well have been hitchhiking, as he was known to do, and was picked up by someone with sinister intentions. the thought of him alone, in the car with some psycho stranger, made your stomach churn. you thought about those infamous headlines, like bundy or gacy — men who’d lured teenagers into their cars with promises of drugs, booze, or, in patrick's case, free concert tickets.

the bowers gang didn't buy that, either. "ain't no way they’d keep him if they managed to get him in their car. they'd sooner kick his ass to the curb than go through the trouble of killing him, let alone whatever else..."

that didn't make you feel any better. that wasn’t any comfort. patrick could have been hurt, or worse, discarded somewhere no one would find him.

then, on the fourth night, he showed up at your window. or at least, someone who resembled patrick did.

it was 1 a.m. the rain had come down in sheets, and everything was drowned in pitch-blackness. your heart skipped when you saw him standing there. drenched. soaked to the bone. his face was gaunt, pale, and his eyes… his blue eyes were distant, glazed, like he'd crawled out of hell to get to your window. he barely looked at you when you pulled the window open, as if the act of him showing up there — alive, but somehow not — was just another piece of the nightmare.

"jesus," you managed, blinking rapidly as if expecting him to disappear again any second. darkness eclipsed his face but it was definitely him. lighting flashed, striking against his sharp features, his sleepy eyes, the turn of his lips.

"close," he managed back in a rasp, wiping his mouth with his drenched arm.

"oh my god, patrick," you cried softly, the tears that had been threatening for days finally spilling over. “thank god, you’re alive.”

his eyes were bloodshot, unfocused, like he didn’t recognize you for a moment. you couldn’t stop crying.

you launched into a million questions, asking where he'd been, what had happened, and why the hell was he covered in dried blood. he didn't answer any of those questions. he simply began climbing inside.

though he was much bigger than you, he seemed exhausted, like dead weight, and so you struggled to help him in through the window, his body stiff and cold. his hands, shaking slightly, gripped your shoulders as you guided him into your room. he didn’t seem to register much, not the wet t-shirt and jeans clinging to his skin, not the muddy boots, not the state he was in. he was even more of a shell of the person you knew a week ago. his heavy eyes were too dull, too empty.

“i— i thought I lost you,” you whispered through your tears. “i was so scared, patrick. you don’t understand. i thought you were—”

he didn’t say a word when you wrapped your arms around him tightly, but his body was so rigid, like he couldn’t bring himself to touch you back, even as you held him close. his arms stayed at his sides, stiff, unyielding, like a statue. it was like he was there, but not there — present in your arms but lost somewhere you couldn’t reach.

you pulled back just slightly, unsure of what to do. but the weight of his silence, the way he wouldn’t let you in, made your chest ache. still, you didn’t let go, your hands pressing against him, not wanting to lose him again. "let's get you cleaned up, okay? you look like you walked out of your grave."

you led him to the bathroom right off your bedroom, offering him a towel. he barely flinched when you touched him, not like you thought he would. his body felt like a stranger’s — stiff, hard, foreign. he stripped to his waist quickly, hardly looking at you. you stood there a moment, observing the cuts and scratches on his skin. he unbuckled his belt and peeled off his jeans.

you watched them pool at his feet and then heard him clear his throat. your gaze snapped up to meet his. the stare was cold and expectant. "sorry," you said quickly, gathering up his wet t-shirt, jeans, and socks in your arms.

you quickly left the bathroom, closing the door behind you. a second later, the door opened a crack, and a long arm stuck out, holding a pair of boxers. you took it wordlessly, and the door closed again. hearing the showerhead switch on, you descended to the laundry room to throw his dirty, wet clothes in the wash.

when he came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his face was paler than ever. “i can’t go home,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “my folks... I don’t wanna deal with them. not right now. can't go to bowers' either. his dad will call them, and the cops, too."

you didn’t argue. you didn’t want him to go anywhere either. you crept to your older brother's old room, him being away at college, and stole some of his old clothes for patrick to wear. you snuck food into the room, watching as he devoured it, starving and desperate, the hunger clear in his eyes.

"your brother leave his coke stash here?" patrick asked throwing the undershirt over his head. the flannel pajama pants were slightly too short for his long legs.

you shook your head with a puzzled look. "what? no. he didn't...he doesn't do drugs. he's on a football scholarship."

patrick rolled his eyes with an incredulous sniff, fingering a few of your earrings on the vanity. "either you're a shit liar or just stupid," he said. "your brother was one of the biggest coke dealers at derry high."

you laughed a little, not knowing whether he was serious. it sounded hollow and forced. "no. there's no stash," you said finally.

"hm." he kept playing with the items on the vanity, picking up bottles of this and that, smelling them, running his fingers over scrunchies and beads. he stopped when he got to a black lace bralette hanging off one of the drawer knobs. you watched him pause, staring at the thing like he was trying to figure out what in the hell it was, and then turning to you with a grimace. "you wear this kinda shit for doug?"

you were too busy processing the fact that he was standing there in front of you, alive, in your room, living and breathing, with a pulse and everything. the mention of the tan, blond-haired lacrosse player you were casually seeing gave you pause. you didn't know patrick had taken notice. you'd only started talking to doug two weeks ago and had gone out on two dates.

"patrick..." you finally managed, and then shook your head, deciding now wasn't the time to press him with more questions. he was like a cat with its back up. he could just as easily jump right back out that window if you threw the wrong question his way.

you made a bed for him on the window seat, though you both knew it wasn’t big enough for him. he was too tall. too… there. so, reluctantly, you told him to get in bed with you. he stared at you.

“what about doug…” he started, but it didn’t matter. not really. and you told him so.

"doug didn't go missing for four days and stumble to my window half-corpse," you replied. after a long moment, he climbed in beside you, keeping his distance. his body was rigid but warm. you both lay in silence for what felt like forever, and you weren’t sure how much time passed before you finally fell asleep.

when you woke, the sheets were tangled, and you felt his chest pressed against your back, his arm heavy around your waist. his body was solid against yours, his breath steady. his rings brushed against your skin as his hand stayed firmly on your hip.

for a moment, you considered pulling away, but as soon as you shifted, his hand tightened on your hip, keeping you in place. he mumbled something low and unintelligible, and you couldn't make out what he'd said.

and in that moment, it wasn’t the sewers that terrified you. it was the way his body, his hand on your hip, felt like something foreign. a dangerous presence. something you weren’t sure you were ready for but couldn’t pull away from.

[firstdivisiongirl]

Hello, Aly! Long time no speak. May I please request Trafalgar Law from One Piece with number 2 (Can’t I just give you $20 and you can buy something for yourself) for the 25 Days of Christmas 2024 event? Thank you so much! Happy Holidays to you! :)

Hi friend. Thank you for the request!! This combo feels so Law. He seems like he’s not a shopping person. Happy holidays and hope you like it!!

Trafalgar Law x Reader: Can’t I Just Give You 20 Berries and You Can Buy Something for Yourself?

If there was one thing Law hated, it was buying Christmas gifts.  Especially for you.  He loved you.  Don’t get him wrong.  But he just never knew what exactly to get you.  He always wanted it to be perfect and that you would like it.  So he hated when this time of year came.  It meant more sleepless nights and more stress.  And trust me, he did not need any more of that.

Law asked you everyday if there was anything that you may want.  Sadly for him, you said surprise me.  It was really getting annoying.  About two weeks before Christmas he decided on what to do.

After lunch with the crew, you were washing dishes.  He approached you from behind and gave you a tight hug.  “Hey,” he said, kissing your temple, “how are dishes coming?”  You sigh, “coming along.  I hope I can finish up soon so I can go out and pick out your Christmas gift.”

He took a deep breath, “I wanted to ask you something about Christmas actually.  What do you really want?”

“Don’t really know.”

“That doesn’t help me.  Can’t I just give you 20 berries and you buy something for yourself?  Then I can stop stressing trying to figure out what you would like.”

“But that’s the fun part.  Being surprised.”

He sighed.  Guess he really didn’t have a choice.  Back to square one.  Maybe one of the crew members could help him.

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[moonydustx]

Hi!! Your writing is so good. I love it so much!!! Can i request a Five x female reader? Where the reader is smug and direct about her feelings? Thank you!! 🫶🫶🫶

Hi Hi! First, thank you for appreciating my work ❤️❤️

I tried my best to deliver and I apologize in advance if anything deviated from the proposal. I used Five from last season because his personality in these last few episodes is my favorite. Again, thanks for the request and i hope u like!

requests | the umbrella academy masterlist

What do you feel?

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x F!Reader

Warnings: fluffff, some things are a little out of canon, F!Reader is also someone with powers. She can feel others' feelings and make others feel hers through touch.

You still remembered the first time Five crossed your eyes at Temps Comisson. The neat jacket, the formal shorts and the almost arrogant posture for just a kid. At first, you hated him.

"A new friend for you." the manager introduced you to him and the two of you barely bothered to shake hands.

"Great, a newbie." Five replied, without much patience.

"I already have my suitcase, I don't need this new one." the cynicism in your tone was clear to both of them. When you saw the manager looking at you impatiently, you turned to him. "Let's follow the rules: don't get in my way, don't meddle in my choices and please don't expect me to save you if you're standing in the grave."

"I could say the same." Five replied, extending his hand to you. "Deal."

And a few years later, here you were. Cooped up in the family of what you could call your best friend, attending a wedding taking place under the lights of the end of the world.

"What do you think, huh? Apocalyptic weddings." Five whispered as the bride and groom entered.

"First I need to find someone who can handle it." your answer came out almost automatically and you just watched Five deny it, with a smile on his lips.

The ceremony was quick, totally the opposite of dinner. The two of you chose to sit at a table alone, taking in your surroundings. The happy couples, Ali and Viktor fighting, Ben being disturbed by Klaus.

"Can you feel what they think from here?" Five asked, filling his glass.

"Sex, sex." you pointed to Luther and Diego with their respective spouses. "Guilt and grudge." you pointed at Viktor and then Allison. "And suicide." Finally, you pointed at Ben. "Look, I don't even need to go there and touch them."

"Sometimes I forget." He pointed to your hands covered in gloves. "And you, how do you feel about the world ending?"

"Relief, I guess." You lied, seeing him nod.

You both watched Klaus approach, in silence. Brother Hargreeves tried to convince them to listen to Sir Reginald, but it was in vain. You understood his hope, in trying to somehow rescue his father's good image and no matter how much he denied it, you could feel that Five wanted to be able to have that kind of hope too.

"I still don't believe him." Five said in a low tone, despite having alcohol in his blood, he still needed to remain alert.

"Me either." you imitated him, moving closer to him. The two of your heads were practically glued together as the two of you talked. "It's a shame to see Klaus so… wait a minute."

Sir Reginald's presence was present there, frightening everyone. It wasn't the spiteful version that you heard Five talk about over the years, but there was something that didn't fit there, you could feel it.

The man gave a brief speech, with a huge poem and it was clear from the looks of those around that the situation was stranger than you could imagine. Perhaps with the intention of breaking the ice hovering in the air, as soon as Hargreeves left the microphone, the dance floor was filled with music and colored lights.

"The old man is actually good at it." Five pondered, taking your attention.

"I don't know, something is wrong. He's always alert, he won't let me touch him." you responded immediately, watching him think for a few seconds.

"Any ideas what we can do?"

"I don't know if you got the memo, but we're about to die. " you turned away from Five to grab your glass. In a cynical gesture, you took your glass towards his glass, improvising a toast. "Here's to the old man's minutes of sanity."

"How can you be so frank?" He seemed indignant, drawing a laugh from your lips. "You're worse than me."

"Ah, dear Five. Try to feel what everyone else feels for a day. All the anger, all the fear. Your own feelings become a burden to you." your words silenced him, leaving space for him to just nod and for you to return to contemplating the speeches.

"I'm glad the world is ending." he stood up, extending his hand to you while his other hand held the bottle of champagne you shared. "Screw other people's feelings."

"Yeah, screw it." You accepted and stood up.

Five led you to the dance floor and even though the music was more upbeat and the dance floor was full of his brothers, he still spun you around a few times, in a kind of disconcerted waltz.

Five soon let go of you and climbed up to where the DJ table was, taking the microphone from the strange man. Without speech or prior notice, Five began to sing. The lyrics weren't the happiest of all, much less the melody, but they were familiar to you. You remembered singing it a few times in Five's presence and saying how much it reminded you of your father, who had been away from you for years.

"Would you accompany me?" your eyes moved away from Five's to Klaus, who proposed a dance. You could notice his suspicious look as he led you away.

"You like him, don't you?" Klaus asked and you just nodded, there was no point in hiding it anymore. "Well, you still have some time until the world ends."

"And if it doesn't end, what do I do next?"

"What do you mean it doesn't end?" Klaus asked, stopping turning you around. "Will you accept Dad's plan?"

"No, no, that's not it. I've seen Five end apocalypses before, I think something inside me hopes he can fix this one too. Maybe it's just the grief speaking inside me."

"Yeah, maybe."

Klaus turned you around once again and let you go, leaving you alone for just a few seconds.

"Let's get out of here?" Five's voice materialized behind you. "I need fresh air."

Before you could respond, he held your hand and led you away. It only took a few minutes for the two of you to be alone, watching the orange sky from the building's terrace.

"Can I ask you something?" You sat next to him, keeping little distance. Before you could ask, he held out the bottle of champagne he hadn't put down yet.

"Technically you already asked."

"Stop being an idiot." your shoulders collided with his. "That's it, right? I think we finally don't have the solution."

"I can almost believe you're scared." this time, you didn't deny it, you just looked away. "You know you don't need to talk, right?"

"I know, but it's frustrating. Running after saving the world all this time and not being able to. I'd rather die, I don't know, run over by a car, with an anvil falling on my head. But an apocalypse?" you laughed and watched Five do what you had done many times when you couldn't use your voice to talk. He took one of your hands and took off the glove, allowing himself to touch your skin.

"I can feel you." he replied, in a low tone. "You are afraid."

Five preferred to omit everything else he felt when he touched your skin. Fear, anguish, anxiety, love. The last one weighed on his mind, but he knew you and knew you would come out as soon as he felt comfortable. In a way, he knew that when he touched you, you would also be aware of his feelings.

"The only people who aren't scared are those who aren't paying attention."

"I think we need to drink more, to forget about this." even after just a few minutes of sitting, Five pulled you to your feet. "And this dress suits you, it's a waste to stay here while the party is going on downstairs."

Again, he dragged you downstairs, where the celebration was taking place. Whiskey, vodka, beer, everything that still contains a quantity of alcohol became part of your menu and at the end of the party, you found yourself sitting at the counter, Five standing a few meters away, tasting two different drinks. Maybe that would be the last time the two of you would party.

"Five?" you interrupted him, making him place the two bottles on the floor. "I don't want to die with regrets."

"Elucidate me on that."

"Even though The Handler always made it clear that I was too much for you, I like you." A sob caused by alcohol interrupted your train of thought. "I like it and I know that maybe I'm a little too much for your arrogance. You're also a little too much for me." You laughed, seeing him approach. "I think after these years, it's only fair for me to say that I love you."

"You think?" he laughed, fitting himself between your legs dangling from the metal counter. "You drank too much."

"You too." you responded immediately, starting to take off your gloves. "And alcohol doesn't affect my opinion. Feelings don't lie, do you want to feel?" Before the first glove could leave your hand, Five stopped you.

"I believe in you and I feel the same." he replied and in an unexpected gesture, he hugged you, putting his face in your mouth. "I've loved you for a while, it's a shame it took us so many years to realize."

"We can live that at least now." You gave space for his face to be in front of yours. "Damn, now I wish I could end this apocalypse."

His lips took yours and instead of his hands attaching themselves to your body, Five disheveledly took off your gloves and pulled your hands until they tangled around the back of his neck.

"I love you so much." he murmured between your lips, feeling almost overwhelmed by all the feeling that emanated from your hands. "Tonight, I'm yours and you're mine, fuck this apocalypse."

"Until the world ends?" you asked breathlessly.

"Until the world ends."

Your mouth tasted like alcohol, sweets and fear for the small future, but Five didn't see the problem, after all you could love each other until the world ended.

[gulnarsultan]

Remember the Trial of the Seven where Maegor with six of his warriors were fighting against the Knights of the Seven in Faith Militant Uprising?So… what if Immortal modern Reader was among those fighters who supported him, which would mean a lot to him and Visenya. But during the fight instead of Maegor ending up in coma, it was Immortal modern Reader?👀👀👀

Once Immortal modern Reader hits the ground from the strike on her head, Yandere Maegor will turn into a rampage and would kill the Knights with cruelty.

Can you please write a scenario where Yandere Maegor carries Y/N’s unconscious body to Tyanna so she could tend to her and get her out of coma? During that period Maegor has only three wives: Ceryse, Alys and Tyanna.

No doubt Tyanna will be determined to help Immortal modern Reader. And Yandere Visenya will be by Y/N’s side.

It would take 28 days until Immortal modern Reader wakes up.

Hello dear. It was nice for me to write this. Thank you for your request. I hope you like it.

》Tears of the Cruel《

Maegor was pacing around the throne room in anger. The Dowager Queen Visenya was watching silently from the sidelines. You were standing tall in the middle. Your hands were folded across your chest and you were looking at Maegor with a defiant gaze.

"Forget this. You will stay here. You will not fight in the war."

"I am older than you. I have fought in many wars. And I will go with you. That is my final word."

"You are as stubborn as a mule."

"Maybe."

"Mother. Say something."

"Maegor. There is no power that can stop her."

Maegor growled angrily.

"Okay. But you will not leave my side."

You flew with Maegor on Balerion, while Visneya flew with Vhagar. You soon reached the grounds where the trial would take place. When Maegor was looking for men to fight for him, you were the first to step forward. Maegor was reluctant to accept this, but he knew he could not fight your. Six men were killed after you. Almost every warrior of the seven faiths was dead. But not before the last soldier had struck you heavily on the head. Your breath was suddenly taken away. You fell to your knees. Maegor knelt beside you, frowning, holding you against his chest. Maegor's face was a look of fear and panic that had never been seen before.

"Maegor."

That was all you could say before you closed your eyes. It had been almost days since Maegor had carried your unconscious in his arms to the Red Keep. He was by your side every day. All duties had been delegated to Visenya. His third wife, Tyanna, had been assigned to wake you. Cerys and Alys visited you at least once a day. It had been exactly 28 days since you had been struck in the head. Maegor was sitting at your bedside, holding your hand tightly. You slowly began to open your eyes. Maegor held his breath in excitement, anticipation, and excitement. When you opened your eyes and looked at him, Maegor had a genuine smile on his face. He kissed your forehead tenderly.

"You have woken up. I was so afraid of losing you."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Targaryen."

[merp0515]

Fanfiction Writer Apperation Post!

Ayo all Merp here! I hope everyone is having a great time whatever time zone you got. I'm a simply derpy ass artist that likes to draw stuff that the Internet has shown me! That includes lovely fanfiction stories I tend to read a lot about. Which is why this post is here to bring a HUGE appreciation for someone in the SMG4 community more from the SMG34 squad! My great friend and a badass from many projects featuring their own series such as "Next Step With You!", @shygirl4991 !

We all have known them from many spots that they are part of like the one they are doing with @lizaluvsthis in "Brewing Romance", "The Chains of a Fragile Soul" with @b-r-i-n-g-x , and "Spilt Into Three's/Six Splits For Four" with the artwork done by @alianarepasa !

They have also done some cool group collab with lots of people, bringing out the artworks each group puts out such as "Coffee Prince and The Frog" (collab with Liz and Aly), and "Shadow Vision" (Bringx, Liz and Aly)!

They never fail to be inspired by many other people that sometimes have ideas for our favorite gays but either don't have the time to do them or they want to do it but don't know how to put into words! Some of these beautiful ideas that came to life thanks to Shay's amazing writing skills are "Just A Dream", "Trade For You" ideas inspired by @therabbitdemon , and "Death Of SMG3" requested by @anartisticalniche !

I had the honor of making the cover art for their cute fluffy "Doll Confessions" fic they made a while back collabing with Bringx's adorable GMod photos she did! Even though what got me into their stories was through "Brewing Romance", there's another story that got me into them and had me always checking fanfiction sites to see if they made anything new and that's one of their many solo projects "Azure Potion!"

It's always fun making art covers for them or draw out characters they've created over time with the plethora of stories done by our lovely writer! I highly recommend checking out their other solo stories such as "Forklift Date", "Mistletoe Wars", "True Colors", "Trapped In a Bleakly Winter", and "A Shot of SMG34"!

There's definitely more stories they've written for these lovey gays but it's gonna take me a while to put them on here lol. Nonetheless while we artist have a blast in creating art for all your favorite fanfictions, please don't forget to show some love to the brains behind the whole thing! Without them, we wouldn't be able to enjoy making all the amazing art to show our love and appreciation for ALL of their hard work! As one that does both art and writing (even though I don't really post many stories on here because my writing style is still a work in progress), I'd love to be recognized by both my art AND the writing I do! Remember to see who's the original writer first before commenting anything!

Anyways……

THANK YOU SHAY FOR ALL THE BEAUTIFUL STORIES YOU CREATED FOR THE FANDOM! WE ALL LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOUR HARD WORK LAD!

Never stop doing what you love and keep on writing! 😄

And to all you lovely writers in this fandom. We love and appreciate all the hard work you all do as well! Keep on writing and create lovely stories to share with everyone! :)

Have a mini colleague of some the art I made for Shay's stories in the past including the cover I did for "Doll Confessions"!