#I'm so happy with the title and the reference to it I'm throwing in at some point

[samwhump]

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well. 

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

#sam winchester #sam whump #supernatural #supernatural fic rec #wincest

[allthegothihopgirls]

*holds out my probably canon headcanon like a toddler showing you a cool frog*

hey what do you think abt damian calling his dad baba and his siblings various nicknames in arabic that range from zameel or jalees when he’s particularly annoyed with them to akhi (brother)/ukhti (sister) when hes rlly happy

I LOOOOOVEEEEEE IT!!!!!

anything that keeps damian in touch with his heritage is a huge yes for me. big fan of him slipping arabic words into his sentences, or repeating phrases he grew up around when he can't think of an adequate english equivalent. etc etc

similar to how people who are learning english as a second language tend to mix their native tongue into english sentences. although with damian i don't think he would do it because he isn't confident with the language (because he most definitely is), i think it's just something that's familar to him, and comfortable to slip into his english speech. + sometimes he can just articulate himself better in arabic.

as for the familial names, although he doesn't use them in canon, he very much does seek comfort from things culturally familiar to him, in gotham. such as in teen titans (2016) special #1, when he's implied to often visit a middle-eastern restaurant 'tarbooshes' which reminds him of his home in the league and his mother.

so although the nicknames aren't something shown in the comics, i don't think it'd be unlikely. he's definitely 'in touch' with his culture, and it's far from an out there idea.

as for the specific names, such as calling bruce 'baba', i'm typically all for that. though apparently in arabic that word in particular translates more to 'dad' than it does 'father'. obviously damian's very formal with his speech, so it is a question as to whether or not that would be the nickname he uses for bruce, or whether he'd use more formal titles. (this post gives some alternatives + explains it more).

usually when i see the use of 'baba' in fics, it's very fitting. i'm very partial to the 'sleepy/hurt damian letting his guard down' trope, and i thoroughly enjoy it when the writer lets him slip a "baba" to bruce. one fic that did this really well was 'repeat your favourite mistakes and love them all over again' by watchingthestars13 on ao3, in which damian (although not the focus of the story) is aged down to 2 years old by magic, and coordinates life as a toddler with bruce, rather than with the league. he's very hesitant to affection at first, so when the writer lets an 'about to fall asleep' damian, call bruce his 'baba', it's always just right.

i'm also fond of him having personal nicknames for his siblings beyond 'brother' or 'sister' in arabic. this post talks about how in arab culture it's common for people to refer to loved ones as their organs. i think it's a fun idea for damian, especially because it's something only he would understand. i think he'd be most likely to do this for dick, although maybe he has a generic one that he uses for other siblings when he's suuuuper happy with them.

but he also takes advantage of being the only arab in the house, and one huuuuundred percent switches up the nicknames he uses depending on how he feels about that sibling at a particular time. he is not above throwing flavourful remarks when he's annoyed, in a language no one else understands (whether that be arabic or not), or calling people the nastiest names he can think of.

#THANK YOU for the askkkkk <33333 #i love hearing people's headcanons. send me them alwayssss #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dc batman #batfam #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics #dcu #dc #batboys #the robins #robin #asks #anon #gothihop speaks

[chromatic-lamina]

chapter 1107 spoilers

Howabout that cover? Howaboutthat cover? How ABOUT that cover?

Bepo, with a lovely warming pot of tea (or a kettle at least), and a club? (to protect the captain?), finds him skiving off with a snow leopard, a funnel, and maybe an empty bottle of Vodka. Chapter title is: "I've been looking for you", and it refers to the giants, I think, looking for the Straw Hats, and Usopp (especially), looking (out) for the giants, and Catarina Devon doing what, exactly? But Caribou, snivelling little sop of a man that he is, looking out for Blackbeard (his current lord and saviour). But, I'm with Bepo, looking out for Law!

The Blackbeards' land on Egghead and St. Jay Garcia Saturn says he knows all about Blackbeard's background, and Catarina knows it too, and I think it's maybe something separate from the "D" initial, cos', after all, it is in Teach's public name. But we see Van Augur--(like, why is the anime captioning him as Van Ogre when Augur is written clearly on the screen? But anyway). The last time we saw him

was

here in chapter 1081 when Bepo went Sulong and escaped with Law. Most of us thought that Blackbeard's crew had been split in half because

it was assumed that events were happening concurrently, but

Van Augur and Catarina Devon are here (on Egghead), and perhaps Van Augur could have warped himself there, but here he says

he hasn't mastered the warp warp fruit enough to get him and Catarina off the island, so it's unlikely that he could have warped himself all the way from Winner Island. SO, did they pursue Law and Bepo, and the two are nearby, or with the giants, or, or, or? Or is there some other explanation (about Van Augur--I know that Law's whereabouts is still relegated to cover pages)? I'm not a close reader, so I'm happy to have anything pointed out.

But, looks like Catarina will be able to clone

Saturn, and looks as if Saturn knows it. Of course, this guy below (Caribou) would be relevant. Can't wait to see his role!

I'm out of order, of course! I don't think that Law got recaptured, but I still think there might be a giant connection. And speaking of the giants

Usopp's reaction was just

heartfelt, was, ahhh, my heart, and Nami and Chopper were really cute too. And yeah, it's been some time, so the quick recap was necessary. AND, lots of small things I just loved either for humour or poignancy, like:

Brook abandoning everything for the sake of a cup of tea (even though he says he wasn't stopping for a cup of tea)---and Lilith sending forth messages (to raise the barrier, I'm guessing) because Brook is all too calm that the Sunny is heading towards the barrier, and bound to be fried by it. Lilith is not at all equipped for dealing with Straw Hat madness. And no-one can seriously out-machismo

Zoro. He's just too silly and strong. And!!!

the Pacifistas turn on the army, the army needing to suppress a workers' revolt. And that's Kuma in the bottom picture, isn't it? It looks like Kuzan, but PX is written on the cap, I think, in the picture. Again, let me know, please!

Bonney just

being in awe that

she gets to see Nika (and Nika teaches her how to throw a rubber punch, extra future bad news for Saturn, I hope). And

Kuma and Vegapunk (what's the far right image?) take in Nika too. Love Franky's way with words here:

telling Bonney she needs make use of her legs, and Vegapunk decides he's gonna stay (or die), and Borsalino's gonna make sure of it. But!

the power of love is all pervasive! (at least when Sanji's wearing the boots). Although his love was used for protecting Bonney rather than Vegapunk, and probably has more to do with Germa modifications than love, but it is Sanji's motivator, and attacks Kizaru's knowledge of "how things work"!

Kizaru/Borsalino's face in the first panel really shows how much power he's losing. Sentomaru took a path Kizaru could have taken, but didn't. He's following Bellamy's path, so it'll be interesting to see where he ends up. Because he's too smart to be a blind lackey. Being an aware lackey is some powerful conditioning/mental gymnastics.

And I think that's about it. Hoping Kid gets a cover page soon too!

#one piece #trafalgar law #blackleg sanji #monkey d. luffy #usopp #roronoa zoro #catarina devon #van augur #borsalino #kizaru #jay garcia saturn #vegapunk #straw hats #one piece spoilers #op spoilers #opspoilers #chapter 1107 #chromamanga #chromacaps #chromalami #blackbeard pirates #long post #fixed some mistakes.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Ashes Burn: chapter one

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, gore, blood

🔷Summary: Your hometown will soon fall, and you become noticed by the one-eyed Kinslayer who lays siege to it.

🔷Author's note: Dark!Aemond is not something i throw around lightly. It is not something i take lightly as a warning. Just so you know.

🔷Wordcount :7036 (THAT CANT BE RIGHT THATS HUGE)

Warnings below the cut but mind your step!

🔷Warnings: Gore, AABFR, She/her pronouns, murder, warcrimes, mentions of non-con but no descriptions of it, Dubcon (aemondxoc) and overall a very very dark Aemond. Childabuse? (A child gets slapped)

All but ash

The skies have blackened with smoke in the distance. Fires keep the courtyard warm where multiple children and women shelter for the upcoming battle. They hope for a victory. They hope for a happy ending.

You stand on your balcony and overlook the city you were conceived in, born in, and perhaps even will die in: DolkBurg. A small city, almost a village, but not quite, located in the Riverlands. 

Your family, the Dawreyn, have been ruling this seat until the beginning of the Seven Kingdoms; perhaps even before that, according to some ancient texts. Yet you are not a full Dawreyn. You are a bastard. Your father is Samwell Dawreyn, but your mother? You wouldn't know.

From the distance, you notice horses riding up to the city gates. That is when you stop watching. You close the door of your balcony and head downstairs.

When you pass halls, men and women alike are preparing for the battle. Servants carry food, supplies, and weapons around in quick passed steps. You see your father and your brother adjusting their armours before going to meet the Greens head-on. And you see Lady Fyona Dawnreyn, who clutches her youngest child, your brother Maas, on her lap. Her eyes are big and full of worry, and she mumbles prayer after prayer. 

You ignore her for now, as she would ignore you as usual. ‘’Where are Annalysa and Diandra?’’ You ask your father, Lord Samwell Dawreyn. His heir, your half-brother Karst, is busy sharpening his sword, preparing for battle by slashing down imaginary enemies. You hope the battle ends as good as he imagines it. You doubt it, however. Karst has never seen a real battle. None of you have. Perhaps your father did. But he is old and weak. You would be a fool to deny it.

Your father speaks in an annoyed, snappy tone that betrays that you have outstayed your welcome in his presence already for today. ‘’Annalysa is in her rooms. Diandra is busy preparing her crossbow.’’ He does not even glance at you. 

And that kills you faster than any arrow or sword ever would. Diandra has always been very spirited. ‘’Don't tell me she is stupid enough to fight.’’ You huff. Diandra thinks she is the greatest archer who ever lived, but how much damage can one 12 years old do?

Your father turns on his heel, glaring at you. ‘’I'm glad that one of my daughters is doing something useful. Instead of sending good suitors screaming for the hills.’’ You absently touch your scar by your face before glaring at him. 

He leans in closer. ‘’We will soon discuss the matter of your future, Y/N. I will no longer have you under my roof. Not when bastards are hunted.’’ You know what he is referring to. 

King Aegon II has decided that all bastards holding titles and lands must turn it over to the Crown. You have never heard of a more foolish rule, but you understand why he did so. His nephews are bastards. The rightful queen might be pure of blood, but her children are not.

You would be a risk for your family to keep. You would endanger the life of your siblings. You would endanger everyone here. You would rather stay, but not at the costs of their lives.

Your father leaves the hall with Karst, and you watch the two of them walk outside, to where their horses await them. Karst climbs on the saddle before waving to you, following your shared father.

Diandra, out of breath, chases after them with her bow. ‘’Wait! I can fight!’’ She shouts into the dust and the shadows they leave behind.

You feel sympathy for your youngest sister. You gently lay a hand on her shoulder. ‘’They're men, Di. This war started because they were too shortsighted to see what we women are truly capable of.’’

Di drops her bow defeated. She was born eight years ago. You two are different in so many ways. ‘’I just wish I wasn't a woman. I wish I could…’’She looks wistfully to where the smoke clouds have gotten worse and is gathered above the hills surrounding the city. Even if she was born a man, she would not be able to fight for several years to come.

You take one of her hands and try to drag her away from the gates and back to the safety of your home.  ‘’We need to prepare the castle.’’ You tell her with a smile. ‘’It's a great honor and duty to prepare the castle when battle is afoot. We must -’’

A horse lets himself be known. A familiar horse. The majestic creature almost walks right to Diandra, who greets her horse with a pat on his neck. Balyrion, her loyal horse, lowers his head in greeting. 

Diandra grabs her bow, walking her horse to the stables where it escaped from...

You turn your back, but keep watching her. In the moments that you do, you see your sister climb on her horse and dash off into the city, to where the warzone becomes closer and closer to the place you call home.

You let out a shriek before grabbing your own horse from the stables, chasing after her in madness and desperation.  ‘’Diandra! Come back here!’’ You shout, following the little girl as you avoid villagers and smallfolk alike.

You follow her through the village where the soldiers are holding up near the gates of the city. Two or three laugh when you two approach in your dresses and another scoffs, but you ignore them all. 

Diandra has taken position by a crack of the gates. She has leveled her arrows through the hole, ready to impale her target from her horse. 

She is aiming.

She is waiting.

You see a man approach the gates. He has dark hair, and you see a terrifying large creature behind him that eclipse the sun. A dragon is waiting back on the hills. 

You heard rumors that she is the biggest dragon alive but rumors and seeing her with your own eyes are two different things. ‘’Let's see how easy you can bother villages without  your eyes…’’ Diandra mutters, and you see her switch her bow to the man that approaches your town.

You have a split second to act.

So you do.

You tackle her to the ground, slamming the bow out of her hands and throwing your body on hers to protect her. 

‘’No!’’ Diandra groans as the arrow misses him by a mere inch. The arrows land in the grass right beside his left feet. The man pauses and takes the arrow from the ground, as if he picks a flower.

He takes out a horn and blows it.

One time.

Two times.

Three times.

You feel an uneasy feeling grow as the little dots in the distance become bigger and bigger, and the army approaches your city.

‘’Are you mad?! He was going to offer us mercy!’’ You shout at Diandra.

She spits in your face before taking her bow back. ‘’There is no mercy from killers. You always were meant to be slave but I sure am not!’’ She shouts.

You don't even give her time to rethink her actions before you hit her across her face. She doubles over and clutches her face furious. She tries to attack you, but you simply step aside, letting her stumble. ‘’You're an idiot. That man came to offer terms. We will all die now!’’ You scream at her.

Two soldiers are needed to keep you both from hurting each other. Your father approaches as his soldiers hold you both apart, clearly disappointed.

‘’Diandra. What are you doing here?’’ You huff a bit. Of course he only cares for her wellbeing.

She has stupid hopeful eyes that fill you with pity. A stupid hopeful girl that never learns that men would never see her as an equal. ‘’I can fight, Father.’’ She speaks, easily freeing herself. She looks at him with big, hopeful eyes. ‘’I almost killed the man! I can fight. Let me fight.’’ She begs.

Your father scoffs, insulted and hurt that you both ruined this mission. This final chance at peace. ‘’You're a woman. Go home. You embarrassed me enough for one day.’’ You feel angry. Isn't he even a tiny bit proud?

You both get onto your horses as the army with the dragon banners reaches the final gate. Within a few mere moments, they have broken through the walls and gates. You watch as Diandra silently cries, tears of rage and broken dreams leaving her eyes… Until you follow her gaze to the open gate.

Diandra understands this is her chance.

And her moment.

Instead of running home, instead of retreating, the girl of 12 summers old, your sister, runs through the open gates into the battlefield. 

She takes her crossbow and aims it, but before she can even kill one soldier, she is surrounded. You overhear what she is saying to the soldiers. You show your empty hands to the men who try to stop you. ‘’Please. That's my sister. Show me your honour, and let me try to save her.’’ You beg.

You fear they will kill you on the spot but the man that Diandra tried to kill, the man with the kind brown almost dark and certainly Dornish eyes speaks for you, protecting you. ‘’Very well. We will push the attack, so don't expect to return.’’ He warns you.

You don't listen to him and run past soldiers on foot and horse alike, past slayed soldiers and those who are still moaning in pain to where your sister is surrounded.

You hope you are not too late.

You hope your mission is not in vain. You approach your sister and overhear her insulting the soldiers that keep their weapons aimed at her. ‘’Who leads you, you disgusting pigs? Take me to him!’’ She demands as if this is her army.

You will kill that girl if she gets out of here alive. What is she even thinking? ‘’Diandra!’’ You shout, and she blushes as a little girl being scolded by her mother. A few soldiers turn their heads to you, surprised by your entrance.

The commander escorts you to her. ‘’Pigs, huh?’’ He says dryly. ‘’And who are you, little lady?’’ You thought you knew, but you aren't sure anymore. Who is your sister?

Diandra ignores him.

‘’Well? Are you deaf? Who commands you? I wish to speak to him. Now!’’ She shouts, causing one soldier to even flince. The commander sighs deeply before nodding to a man who approaches.

The fighting for the walls continues. The army of the Greens outmatches the army of Dolkburg greatly. You can even see the outcome for this point of the war. It won't even take a day. Perhaps three hours, that is if you are all lucky.

From the corner of your eye, you take in an all black dressed character with long silver hair, wielding an impressive long silver sword. A Targaryen. You almost instantly back away from him, stepping on the toes of the commander. ‘’Pardon me, Ser.’’ You mutter, but he didn't even feel your feet. His iron shoes protected him. The commander bows his head in respect for the Targaryen.

The Targaryen in question is a terrifying creature that looks as if he came walking straight out of a historic book about the first conquest of Westeros. You become aware of your increased heartbeat, and you avoid drawing attention to yourself.

You heard rumours.

You all had.

There are three green Targaryens with dragons. One is the king. He is a modest threat if he comes. One is the last born prince, he too would be a modest threat. But the second one, he is the deadliest with the biggest dragon of them all. He is known as the Kinslayer or one-eye.

And unfortunately for you, and your beautiful hometown, your family's lives and the lives of your friends and everything else that matters to you, that you hold so dear, this man is clearly covering up a missing eye with a black eyepatch.

The one-eyed Targaryen  grins at your sister. ‘’I am right here, little lady.’’ He speaks full of mockery in a deep raw voice that sends chills down your spine. There is no humanity or kindness in his eyes. Only bloodlust. Madness. Insanity and rage. You know that all attempts at peace are lost.

Diandra seems taken back for a moment. Perhaps she is even truly afraid for a moment. But Diandra has never learned to live on her knees. She would rather die standing than live on her knees. She looks the prince up and down slowly, as if he’s a cow on the market. ‘’You're even uglier up close.’’ She says, shocking a few soldiers and even the commander.

The prince glares at her.

‘’I am flattered.’’ He speaks, not giving a damn. But his curiosity gets the better of him anyway. ‘’Who are you, and why do you wish to die so badly?’’ He speaks, taking out his sword. 

Your sister lifts her chin. ‘’I am Diandra of house Dawreyn. You're attacking my home. It's you who is going to die.’’ You close your eyes quietly, praying. If he wasn't planning on killing her...

He sure is now.

The prince laughs in her face as some of the surrounding soldiers join in.

‘’Am I now? O, my. How unfortunate.’’ He speaks, eying his men with amusement in his remaining good eye. His men chuckle or laugh. Then that laugh vanishes, leaving behind a beast. He suddenly jumps forward, causing Diandra to stumble backwards. He grits his teeth at her.  ‘’I have a dragon, you foolish cunt. Perhaps I'll keep you alive as entertainment for my men. You are too young to have sex with, but we can cut you up or make you a target practice. I do warn you: I can’t see very well..’’ He warns Diandra with those words.

You must interfere. ‘’That would be foolish. My sister speaks-’’Before you can finish talking, Diandra pushes you roughly aside, walking up to Aemond before taking out a small sword.

She exhales before speaking. So loudly that everyone can hear her. ‘’I challenge you to a duel.’’ She says, her voice unshaken, her eyes burning with hatred. ‘’That is, if you are man enough to face me.’’ 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You hear cold laughter of the men. ‘’No! Diandra, no.’’ You tell her strictly. ‘’Diandra stop being foolish-’’ Diandra coldly turns around to face you. 

The prince snickers as well, amused by this development and very eager to spill blood. ‘’'You? You want to duel me?’’ The prince wonders outloud. ‘’You have more balls than the other men, I give you that. But I can't hurt a little peasant girl as yourself.’’

Diandra spits at the genuinely disgusting few men. ‘’Yes. I will take your other eye and send it to your brother.’’ She groans, insulted and impatient. You don’t think she is even scared. That is not a concept she’s familiar with.

The prince sighs almost as if he's bored with the entire idea of fighting your sister. ‘’O, I'm not going to do that. That wouldn't be fun for me.’’ You suppose that is true. It would be boring and a very short duel. One-sided too.

Diandra is let go of by the command of the prince.  She charges at him with her sword. ‘’Do it! Do it, you coward!’’ She shouts as the guards restrain her once more.

The prince continues his dramatics for quite a while, moaning about his boredom when behind him, near the gates your people are slaughtered as pigs. ‘’I was told there was going to be a battle, yet here I am with two annoying hostages. The one a mute, the other a talkative dumb child.’’ He murmurs as Diandra screams and kicks her attackers. You are frozen and can't move a single finger. 

Another person rides into the battlefield. Karst. You see he is covered in blood and has fought his way to the frontlines.He rides up to the prince and glares at him. ‘’I assume you are the Kinslayer?’’ He spats. You are glad and fearful your brother is here.

The prince's good eye narrows. ‘’I am named Aemond.’’ And just like that, the demon has a name.

Karst nods. ‘’Aemond. Good. I'm Karst of house Dawreyn. My father demands the return of my sister, Diandra.’’ Your eyes roll, but you carefully compose your face. Of course he only cares about Diandra. ‘’Release both her and her septa and we can discuss the terms of your surrender.’’ You know that Karst only protects you by lying about who you are. Bastards aren't safe under Aegon's rule. But to call you a septa? That is a lie that even a one-eyed man will easily see through.

For a moment it's silent.

Birds chirp in the distance.

Clouds roll by.

Screams are the only thing you hear.

Screams and prayers.

Until that moment passes and the laughter, that stomach twisting laughter returns. It sends shivers down your spine, and if hell had a sound, that would be it. 

It would be funny. Perhaps if the roles were reversed, you would laugh too. ‘’My surrender? I see stupidity runs in the family.’’ The prince comments. Perhaps it does.

Karst does not even blink. ‘’If you won't face a woman, surely you will face a man. Or are you a craven?’’ He grins at Aemond, taunting him by taking out his sword. ‘’I heard you are one of the youngest dragon riders out of your family.’’ You never heard that story.

The prince smirks, barely hiding his pride.

‘’You heard correct.’’

Your brother comes even closer. ‘’Yet, I heard your sister, the Queen Rhaenyra was even younger.’’ You bite your lips to avoid laughing at Aemond’s enraged face. Not only did Karst remind him of a old wound, but also made clear who your family is loyal to in the same breath, when pretending to praise the Prince’s ego. Karst cleans some blood of his sword, blood you know that belongs to Aemond’s men. ‘’Do us both a favor, and duel me so we can stop this unnecessary bloodshed.’’ He speaks, as a true leader of this town.

To that the prince nods. ‘’Very well.’’ He speaks. To his men he nods. They grab you and your sister before cleaning a large space for the duel.

Karst speaks with the words of a true hero. ‘’Whoever wins this duel, takes Dolkburg.’’  He says, making a very big gamble. A too big a gamble, perhaps. But Karst is a good fighter. He is skilled. Efficient. He is enough. He needs to be enough.

He continues as the prince remains silent. ‘’Three steps. Agreed?’’ So they will take three steps back before attacking.

The prince shrugs again that bored tone of his coming out. ‘’Tis fine with me.’’ He speaks.

Karst counts out loud as he takes steps away from the prince. You watch anxiously.  You focus on Karst's metal boots. You see one step. And a second one.

But before he can place his feet down for the thirth, his feet stop moving, and you watch him collapse for your own eyes. 

The prince stands behind him with his sword drawn where blood still drips from. ‘’And that would be three.’’ He grins at your brother. Aemond is speaking to a corpse.

Grief is a funny thing. You, for one, are horrified and frozen and clutch your throat to silence the cries that come out. When Diandra, screams at Aemond before her small legs pick up the pace and approach him quickly. Aemond simply turns, his sword in his dominant hand and waits with a grin for her to approach. Before he can chop her head off, the Dornish commander picks Diandra up by her hips. ‘’Let me go! I shall have my revenge!’’ Diandra screams, when kicking him. You are the commander very thankful. ‘’You are a monster!” She shouts at Aemond. He was staring at the corpses of his men and although you can’t quite tell what is going on inside his head, you can see he did not appreciate that comment.

‘’Diandra, shut up.’’ You beg her as the prince is reminded of you both. He already finds her annoying. He already is tested and challenged by her. 

He sees you. Perhaps he did before. But now he acknowledges your existence. You shelter your sister, aware he will kill you both.

Aemond looks at the corpse of your brother. He smirks at your trembling legs and the way you cling tightly to your sister. ‘’My. You're a pretty one.’’ He speaks, surprising you. He takes in your simple gown approvingly, treating it as a seductive cloth made of silk. 

It's a compliment. You aren't used to men flirting with you. You aren't used to any of this. 

‘’I am not.’’ You say instead, shielding your sister by tightly holding her against your chest.

The prince chuckles, staring a little too long at your lips.

‘’I quite disagree.’’ He murmurs to himself. He steps closer to you and you can smell a permanent almost stench of rotten meat and dead bodies as he comes closer. ‘’I have never known a septa to dress in such a way. And I have met a lot.’’ He says. 

You can’t imagine where a man like him met a septa.

‘’I have recently converted.’’ You hope he buys the lie. ‘’I chased her the moment I heard her ladyship was gone.’’ You tell the prince, nodding to your sister. 

He does not seem to care about Diandra's noble lineage. And that scares you. He must care, if he is to keep her alive. Diandra will be a difficult young, useless hostage that insulted him countless times already. He must see her value. ‘’That's Diandra of house Dawreyn. She is worth a lot if you were to ransom her.’’ A ransom would mean he can't hurt her. Not too badly. And you know your father too well. He would pay soon and get Diandra back, ensuring her safety once more.

For a moment, a brief moment, it seems likely that Diandra will protest. Perhaps even call you a traitor. She is close to ruining it all. But instead, she likely understands that you know the best way to save you both.

The prince takes in Diandra's glares and silk riding gown. He sighs as if he has to admit to himself that you indeed tell the truth. You are thankful for the simple beige gown you picked out today. A simple gown without any stitches or designs or patterns who won't give away that you are a Dawreyn as well.  He speaks, wettening his lips with his tongue. ‘’A woman of great schemes and great beauty. You are interesting.’’ There it is again. That gentle soft tone when he speaks to you. Yet it feels like a fox trying to lure a bunny out of its den. You know it's nothing more but a facade. 

Yet you try to negotiate with him. You try to get on his good side. A tiny bit as much as your heart allows. ‘’I know she made a fool of you, and I know we insulted you both. Yet I beg you to let her be. She is still a child.’’ You hope he likes the dramatic touch of your begging. He seems to like dramatics.

Instead of giving you his word as a gentleman, he stares off into the distance of your hometown. You become uncomfortable and turn your gaze away from him. ‘’Are you betrothed?’’ He asks as his men are busy fending off soldiers that try to keep coming to you and Diandra. 

‘’No.’’ You respond as you watch a single soldier be beheaded brutally. He survives the first attempt, and the blood splashes down his armor, and you can hear his screams before he bleeds out. The agreement remains. He won. Dolkburg is his. ‘’M-my prince, you can stop the fighting. We’ll let Lord Samwell know that you and Karst made an agreement-’’

His lips curl into a smirk as he briefly looks up from the moaning and screaming soldiers that beg for death and mercy.  ‘’I have no intention to stop this battle.’’ He sounds almost happy. Glad, delighted and peppy. Not how you would expect.

You don’t understand. Why waste good men and resources on a fight already won? Why kill innocents? ‘’But..why ever not? You are clearly on the winning side. What good will it do?’’ You sound like a little foolish girl.

He grins, amused. ‘’You’re a woman, so I don’t expect your innocent and pure mind to understand the way I think. These men are traitors. They defied my brother and his reign. They will answer for their crimes with fire and blood.’’ You need to stop this. Now. You watch his sword, where the blood of your brother still drips down. This is insanity.  ‘’Most men didn’t deny Aegon. You know this! Most men simply follow their lord. They don’t choose to die-’’ they don't even choose to follow their lord.

You might see it that way. But he does not. ‘’They made a choice. And they choose wrong. If you like, you can give them proper burial after since you are a septa.’’ You nod, unsure as to how you would even do so. You don’t know anything about septas or burials. And he knows it too, you can tell he was sarcastic.

‘’Married?’’ The prince asks as a casual follow-up. You ignore him as your father comes through the lines, pushing an army of soldiers through the broken gates. They fend off the first few guards. And they slay whoever is on their path. As they push forward, the other half of the army is riled up and follows them, with a powerful battle cry. Even the smallfolk has come out, rallied to their cause, with whatever weapons they could find. Some grab swords from fallen soldiers, others just use pans and knifes.

More and more soldiers on Aemond’s side die as the battle seems to turn.

Your lips begin to smile hopefully as Diandra applauds. Annoyed, Aemond glares at her. You are quick to stop her. ‘’I asked you something.’’ He groans when he grabs you by the throat. You are not choked but understand by the rage and insanity in his remaining good eye he is very close and tempted to do so.

‘’Are you married?’’ He repeats, almost spitting at you.

You are not sure why he asks. You are sure you don’t want him to know that you are unwed.

And you won't become his.

So you lie.

The word rolls easily over your lips as you pretend to think back of a love long lost. ‘’Widowed.’’ You speak your voice soft. ‘’He went to the Reach to fight. They say he was burned alive.’’ You know he was there. You know he killed and blazed dozens in the Reach. You hope he feels terrible about it. Yet he begins to smile again, careless and pleased. 

‘’I can live with that.’’ He chuckles in your ear. ‘’A woman as gorgeous as yourself is too pretty to be a widow forever. It's past time you moved on.’’ He lets go of you, pleased you answered him but annoyed it took you so damn long.

You absently nod. Until you have the eerie feeling that he might be referring to himself. 

Your father fights well and bravely. But to think he would win is a foolish thought. And eventually, he is captured and brought forward. ‘’Daddy!’' Diandra yells as they take him closer to her.

Almost happy with her, Aemond perks up and whispers something in the ear of a soldier close to him. The soldier runs off. 

Aemond approaches Diandra and grabs a handful of her dark locks, causing her to cry out. He throws her on her knees and forces the blade he carries on her neck, ready to behead her any moment. ‘’That is a child!’’ You seem to be the only one disgusted by this. 

He glares in your direction and another soldier grabs your arms. ‘’Do not harm the septa.’’ Aemond growls, warning him. The soldier lets go of you instantly. He turns his head to your father. ‘’Bend the knee or see your daughter die the way I killed your son as well.’’ Realization hits your father as the soldier brings Karst's head to him. Your father tears up helplessly as he nods. The head is tossed around between soldiers, before Aemond takes the skull of your brother and inserts his sword into the right eye of Karst. 

Your sister is the child, the small one, the weaker one. You must protect her. 

‘’Look away, Diandra!’’ You warn her, but it is too late. Diandra watches with her mouth open as Aemond cuts out one of the eyes of your brother, proudly as if its his trophy. Aemond laughs, taking in the eye. 

Karst’s blue gorgeous and bright eyes.

‘’He had gorgeous eyes. I bet he fucked a lot of women, didn’t he?’’ He asks your father, and you are appealed at the audacity of him. Your father does not respond, silent tears running down both his cheeks. Aemond chuckles, before kicking your father against his kneecaps. ‘’You can be silent all you wish, I like silence. Helps me think.’’ 

‘’I bet he had his eyes set on the Septa here.’’ Aemond continues, gesturing to you. ‘’That’s why he rode into Battle, that’s why he challenged me. Not for his useless brat sister, but because he had a hard one for her.’’ Your own brother. You know he is lying. But just that thought, makes you sick. He sees your disgust and your glare and smirks. ‘’Does that disgust you? My apologies.’’ 

Your father croaks out. ‘’And my other daughter? What will you do with Y/N?’’ You close your eyes in fear as cold sweat breaks out. You hear Aemond's boots turn around to face you and you open your eyes. When you do you are confronted with his rage and his displeasure. You helplessly tear up. ‘’Please, I know she's a bastard but she is my daughter. Certainly you can make an exception for once. We can even pay you.’’ He offers. ‘’We have gold, plenty of women, animals for your dragon, you can even burn me, if you like. But not my children. She is good, so is Diandra. They are sweet kind girls-’’

You don’t know Aemond very well. But he does not seem to care even a bit about money. He cares about justice, about honor and revenge. Gold is not important to him.

Disgusted as if he burned himself or as if you are a disgusting thing, Aemond pushes you in the dirt next to your sister. The blade switches necks. You feel it cold in your throat. ‘’You shouldn't have lied to me.’’ He hisses in your ear, forcing you to feel the blade taunt and slightly touch your neck. You whimper. You don't want to die.

‘’Y/n!’’ Diandra cries. 

Aemond ignores the protests. ‘’I've come to a wonderful conclusion: I will take this city, and I will take it in the name of my brother, King Aegon II.’’ That was to be expected.  ‘’So, since you are the ruling family, you will all bend the knee to me and I’lll decide what I’ll do with you traitors later.’’ You can’t imagine he will let your father live. Diandra has one final thing to say.

‘’You are a coward! You attack our home, you harass my sister and you kill my brother and for what?! Because we wouldn’t bend the knee to your drunken cunt of a brother?! You Greens claim that Rhaenyra’s children aren’t true Targaryens, but at least they aren’t true monsters!’

Aemond takes a deep breath once she has finished speaking. ‘’The little brat annoys me. Perhaps she needs discipline.’’ You freeze and watch as a soldier grabs Diandra before hitting her multiple times across her face until blood streams from her nose and tears roll down her cheeks. He smirks, folding his hands on his back. ‘’Much better.’’

You are horrified, still on your knees as Aemond presses you further down in the mud. You make a wordless prayer to the gods. ‘’As I said: I will take this city. I will bestow mercy on everyone who bends the knee.’’ Aemond says, and you can’t help but frown. Part of you know he is lying to the masses. He is lying and playing them. You’ve seen earlier that Aemond does not care about the people he kills. Your father nods, hestiant at first but understands you don’t have a choice.

You finally get up from the ground, carefully looking at Aemond for approval. He does not seem to care nor notice you at all anymore.

He gives his soldiers instructions. 

‘’Escort them to the bricks until I've decided that they can be released.’’ He speaks. ‘’Treat them with utmost respect. These people are nobility.’’ He warns the guards. A few nod, and your family is escorted away from you. Diandra cries your name when she is escorting to your home, where she will be held as a prisoner. ‘’Y/n! No!’’

Aemond sighs. The commander comes up to him. ‘’We rounded up around 300 survivors. And around 800 wounded men.’’ That is a joke compared to the troops that Aemond has. You don’t know his exact numbers but one glance behind you, and you don’t have to. You can count.

The prince thinks.

‘’Hm. Put the wounded out of their misery. And bring the survivors to the city gates.’’ He is going to kill the survivors. You know he is. That is why he wanted your father gone, he pretended to care so your father would go quietly.  Since Aemond is distracted with the surrender of your hometown, you easily slip past a few guards, quickly putting distance between you and him. 

You are almost at the gates when a hand grabs your arm, pulling you back. ‘’No! No, I don't want to go back!’’ You beg whoever holds your arm. You look straight into the face of the commander. He has a sorrowful pitiful look in his eye as he drags you back to Aemond who is waiting where you left him.

‘’On your knees.’’ He commands you the moment you are in front of him. He takes out the same sword he killed your brother with. He will kill you the same way.

‘’Why?’’ You whisper as a craven. ‘’I don’t want to die.’’ You confess softly.

His good eye rolls again, and he hisses at his soldiers. ‘’Help that simple woman.’’ He tells his guards and soldiers. Two men eagerly force you on your knees in front of the prince.

‘’I was so disappointed when I found out you had left my side.’’ He speaks the moment you are pushed on your knees. ‘’I thought you were smarter than to run away from me.’’ You are shocked for a brief moment. No one ever called you smart before. No one.

You huff, insulted and perhaps it helps that you know you will die: You have nothing left to lose. There is nothing you can say to hurt yourself even more. ‘’I saw the way you let go of me. You don't find me attractive anymore. I'm just a dirty bastard. Why waste your time with me? You’ll kill me eventually.’’

He chuckles, in a light, delighted manner. ‘’Kill you? No, no. That would be a shame of a pretty face.’’ Your face is touched, almost gently caressed and you are confused and terrified. You rather be with your family in a cell, than here. ‘’Now, I'm afraid that there is a punishment due for you.’’ He says, and he can’t hide his smirk.

You open your mouth to protest. Aemond takes the sword he killed your brother with, and makes sure that fresh blood is stained on the blade by running the sword, almost coating it in the blood of your brother by slashing open his corpse. The blade is now covered in crimson, red dripping blood. Aemond brings the blade to your face. He gently tilts his head and when he looks you in the eyes you know you have two choices. Submit or die. ‘’Lick my sword.’’ He says.

You hesitate. ‘’That is my brother. That is…disgusting.’’ You protest. Licking his blood, disrespecting his corpse and tasting his blood: it is all too much for you. You burst into tears.

Aemond sighs. ‘’As a Targaryen, I don’t quite see the issue.’’ He jests, causing the commander to chuckle, as well other soldiers. ‘’You can lick this sword or you can get on your pretty knees and die.’’ He says, carelessly. 

You hope he does not cut your tongue out with it. You lick the edge of the blade, softly careful not to hurt your own tongue. Aemond watches, his breath stuck in his throat as you gently lick the blood clean of his blade. You feel disgusted and sick after it, and you must to all you can to avoid throwing up. Aemond moves the sword,into his seath.

‘’You see that, men? These women have no self-respect, no dignity, no value. They are as sheep in the meadow, ready for a good ram to fuck them.’’ He speaks to the masses of the army he commands, using you as a example. You whimper when Aemond grabs you by the throat.

He throws you on your knees in front of him.

‘’Kiss my boots.’’ He hisses. ‘’Show me your obedience and you won’t be killed.’’ He promises you. ‘’Kiss them, or I will fly my dragon over your hometown and burn everything and everyone that you hold dear to ash.’’ You bend your head and leave two kisses on each his boots. You recoil when you taste the disgusting mud he walked through. 

Aemond grabs you from the ground, by the throat and roughly kisses you. You protest and try to flee him, but he holds you too tightly to escape. You are made a spectacle of. This is not desire, this is power.  ‘’Tell the men this one won't be hurt or touched without my approval. She's mine.’’  He barks at the commander and leaves with a posessive smack on your ass. You flinch, whimpering.

You understand your fate very well. The prince lifts your teary cheeks and kisses your lips, gentle and soft this time. A horse is brought to you both. ‘’You’ll ride with me.’’ He tells you. ‘’When we are riding through the city, you’ll hold your brother’s head for me. You hold it above your head, you show it around and you make sure that every fucking villager in this piss-forgotten-shithole understands who’s in charge now.’’ He groans in your ear.

You nod, terrified. His face and voice softens. ‘’I am so glad I found you before I sacked this place.’’ You hate that word with a burning passion. ‘’You might have gotten hurt.’’ He makes his voice soft when speaking to you, almost seductive and sweet. ‘’I might be staying a while. I hear the nights are dark and cold here. I need someone to keep me warm.’’

You don’t respond, not thrusting yourself to not cry. ‘’And who’s better fitted for that, than a nameless, bastard who dared to lie to me?’’ He lifts your chin so he can count the tears in your eyes, before they fall and roll down your cheeks.

‘’Get on the horse.’’ He says, commanding you. You clumsily climb on the horse, waiting for his further instructions. He climbs on the same horse, and wraps his bloodied hands around your waist, staining your dress. He takes the reins of the horse and directs it to where the majority of the survivors are rounded up.

You hold the head of your brother as a few soldiers from your father’s troops recognize you. Your hands shake yet you won't let go of your brother’s head. Aemond makes sure that you are surrounded by guards loyal to him before leaving. You remain alone at the castle gates, under guard. 

Aemond finally returns, with his dragon. He commands the survivors to be brought outside. You are forced on your knees in the grass, between bloodied bodies, missing body parts and arrows. Because he wants you to see and to remember well what comes next. He starts with the survivors who are the most injured. An old man around your father’s age can’t walk because of his bleeding legs. ‘’Let me help with you that.’’ Aemond offers the man a hand. The man smiles, through his pain. Aemond quickly takes out his sword instead, slashing at the injured leg until the plain muscle holding his leg together as thin threads is cut and the man screams. He collects the leg and feeds it to his dragon. After that, he feeds the man the leg belonged to.

Aemond forces around dozens of people to his dragon. Some are roasted first, screaming as they burn in their armor. Some are chopped up, cut up, slashed up, everything to make the meal sweeter for Aemond’s beloved Dragon. You remain on your knees, sobbing with every new victim for mercy by Aemond. Instead of doing so he grins, leaning and gives you his even more bloodied sword to lick clean. ‘’Save your voice, little Y/N. You are going to need it badly once we are alone.’’

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''But Vhagar didnt you already publish-''

I did rewrote it. Aemond did not took the eye in the orginal one.

I found that a ...neat little addition:))

#tags #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #Smut #dubcon #violence

[smoooothoperator]

Save Your Tears

01: Lose It All

Driver! Mick Schumacher x opera singer! OC (Ophelia Becker)

Strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight, long plane flight, personal drama, opera references

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: death of a parent

a/n: hello beautiful people!! Welcome to the first chapter of my newest story! I hope everyone likes it!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Masterlist

next part

Music was always her dream. Singing was her dream, imagining herself in the middle of a stage singing a beautiful aria of an opera was always her dream.

Her mom was her inspiration. She grew up following her around the world, watching her sing big titles of opera, being the main character of the stories: Aida, Norma, Tourandot were only a few of the names she used to portray. Ever since she was a baby, she was attached to her hip while she had rehearsals, being fed by her during the breaks and playing with the singers that didn't have to sing in the scene. She met a lot of people, people that helped her be who she is right now. Orchestra conductors, opera singers, scene directors… all of them watched her grow up and become the woman she is now.

That day was the best day of her life. She just did a premiere of her first time singing as the main character of an opera. Her cheeks hurt because of her unreadable smile, hugging her coworkers and members of the production, hugging the roses they gifted her.

Everything was perfect. Her role as Juliette was perfect for her, everyone loved how she portrayed the character. The audience was happy to see how the heiress of the big Cordelia Becker is as perfect as her mother.

"Miss Becker, you've got a call" her manager said, tapping softly on her shoulder, interrupting the conversation with one of the owners of the opera foundation.

Ophelia smiled and nodded, excusing herself and walking away with her phone in her hand, walking outside the big luxurious room and standing on a balcony.

"Yeah, who is?" the young woman asked, smiling, curious about who would be calling at this hour.

"Miss Becker, I'm so sorry to inform you that your mother has died this evening from cardiac arrest" the voice said, sounding far away yet so close to her ear.

"W-what? What do you mean? You are joking right?" she frowned, looking around. "I talked with her a few hours ago. You might be wrong"

"I fear I'm not joking" the woman said. "I'm your mother's doctor, today she collapsed after a concert…"

The voice started to fade out. The dress suddenly started to feel too tight, not letting her breathe. The world was spinning around her, she had to balance herself leaning on the wall of the building. 

"Are you there?" 

"Oh, sorry…" she mumbled. "Eh… where did you say she is right now?"

"In Zurich" the doctor said. "If you don't mind… you are the only familiar contact she has, you have to come and do all the paperwork"

Of course, Zurich. Her home. 

"Yeah… okay" she sighed, feeling her heart breaking slowly.

She ended the call, wanting to throw the phone down the street. She saw the people on the street, how unbothered they seemed to be, how perfect their life looked. 

"Ophelia?" 

Her manager was standing by the door of the balcony, opening it and looking at her worriedly.

"Ophelia, you are going to get cold, come back inside" she insisted.

"She's dead" Ophelia mumbled, turning around and facing her manager, her friend.

"What? Who?"

"My mother. She's dead"

It feels unreal to say it. It's a dream, no, a nightmare. She only has to wake up and everything will be fine. 

But… Why is she feeling the wind? Why is she hearing the traffic under her feet? 

"Do you want me to drive you to the hotel? I'll get you plane tickets"

Ophelia only nodded, not saying a word. She followed the woman close, not looking around to the people sending curious gazes at her, wanting to know what was happening. 

What now? What will happen now? 

She has to leave. They will have to cancel the next day's concert. She has to make an official announcement of what happened.

"Are you sure you are okay?" 

She looked at her side, her manager sitting next to her on the backseats of a taxi.

How did she get inside of it? She can't remember.

"I am" Ophelia nodded, looking to the front.

She was on autopilot. No emotions shown yet, not even tears. She was trained to keep her emotions for herself during her performances, but right now wasn't the place nor the moment to keep the tears for herself.

When the car stopped in front of her hotel she got out of the vehicle quickly, rushing to the hall and going to her room. The suitcase is everything but ready, all her clothes were still in the wardrobe, since she planned to spend more than a week there. She has to put all her clothes there.

"I already reserved a flight" her manager announced, walking inside the room. "You have to be in the airport in three hours"

"Perfect" she nodded, looking at the clothes, still hanging in the wardrobe.

She stared at them for some minutes, scanning every piece of clothing and feeling that she was missing something.

"I don't have black" she said, turning around and looking at her manager.

"I'll manage, you are going home, you have black dresses…"

"I'll go buy one" she said, grabbing her bag, ignoring that it was already late and stores weren't open. "I can't go with a concert dress, my mother wouldn't approve that"

"Ophelia, it's already nine" her manager frowned. "You have to pack your suitcase and go immediately to the airport!"

"I have to buy black clothes!" she exclaimed, losing her self control. "I don't care about the time! I have to buy clothes that I'll burn later because I don't want to remember the day my mother died! Don't you get it? So go call a fucking store or whatever place and find me something! I can't stop at home, I can't!"

She can't go home. She knows that once she steps inside of that apartment it will bring her memories and the reality will hit her immediately.

"Okay, take a deep breath" her manager sighed, taking a step closer to her. "I have a friend here that works in a store, maybe I can find you something"

"Quickly" she sighed.

Her manager left her alone, making the silence slowly kill her.

Her mother died. The only person in the world she can call a family, has died. She doesn't know who her father is, maybe one of those singers her mother used to hang out when she was younger. Her grandparents stopped supporting her mother when she decided to start a music career.

"This can't be happening" she mumbled, pacing around the room, taking off the dress that was suffocating her. "No, this is not real"

She laughed loud, not being able to control herself anymore. In what type of movie is she? She feels like the main character of one of those movies where she's all by herself.

But now she is by herself. She doesn't know her father nor her grandparents. She doesn't have a boyfriend. Her friends have the same job as her and travel around the world to do music.

"Fucking… God!" she exclaimed, grabbing the first thing she found and throwing it to the wall.

She's alone in this world. 

"Take a deep breath" she sighed looking at the mirror. "You can be calm. You can do this. No tears. You are not a baby"

She took a deep breath and smiled, fakely, to her reflection. This is how life is, one moment you talk with someone you love and then the next hour that person is dead.

"Ophelia, open" her manager knocked on the door. "I have the dress, did you make your suitcase?"

She looked at the woman, how she was holding a dress bag. 

"What were you doing this hour?" she frowned, looking at Ophelia and grabbing all the clothes of the wardrobe and folding them quickly, placing them on the suitcase. "Ophelia. Ophelia!"

"I lost my mom" she whispered.

"Yes I know" her manager frowned. 

"I…"

"There's no time. You have a plane to take"

Ophelia looked at her. Eloise, her manager, was like a maternal figure, always making sure she takes care of herself and don't get sick, and when she does, she always goes to the pharmacy and get her medicine before she asks. She was there for her since she started her career, helping her reach her dreams and making them come true.

"I should do an announcement" Ophelia mumbled, watching how the older woman closed the suitcases. "A-and I have to get changed…"

"Put this" Eloise said, grabbing the same clothes she came with to the city, jeans and an oversized hoodie she bought on her previous concert place. "Quickly"

When she felt the dress getting lighter on her body, after Eloise unzipped it, she changed, looking at herself in the mirror. 

Ophelia can feel the thoughts and emotions inside her mind, hearing them buzzing like bees inside a box. 

Again, she was on autopilot, and immediately she was inside a car again on her way to the airport.

"I sent you the ticket to your phone. You have to run, there are traffic and once I drop you there you have to go as fast as you can"

She only nodded, looking outside through the window. 

"Cancel all the concerts I have this month and the next one" Ophelia mumbled. 

"That much?" Eloise frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I have to take care of my mom's things" she said. "I have to make a funeral, I have to bury her. So… yes, I am sure"

When the car stopped in front of the main door of the airport, she stayed ten seconds inside of the vehicle, looking at the people walking inside the building. Eloise opened the door after watching that she was still inside the car and sighed.

"Come on, get out" 

Ophelia nodded and sighed, grabbing her backpack and hiding herself under the hood of the hoodie. She felt her manager's arms around her, making her sigh and hide her face on the shoulder of the woman.

"You can do this" she whispered. "You are strong. I'll join you in a few days, okay? I have to take care of things here"

Everything was in slow motion. The people around her were walking slowly, smiling and laughing, hugging and crying. There are welcomes and goodbyes, first encounters and last encounters. 

All the thoughts inside her mind were too loud, not letting her hear how the speakers were giving the last call for her flight. It was too late when she heard them, making her grab her suitcase and backpack and run through the corridors and nearly falling to the ground.

For what? She already missed the flight. The moment she was a few meters away from the gate, the footbridge that connected the gate to the plane was already gone. 

"No" she mumbled, feeling her heart sinking down to the floor. "No, no, no"

It was a miracle that the flight attendant offered her a new plane ticket for the next flight. 

She could feel how red her eyes were, holding all the tears she can't let fall. Sitting on the benches, looking outside the window how the plane she was supposed to take started to fly, she felt sad.

Her stomach started to rumble, making her gasp and look around, embarrassed when she heard a woman chuckle. When was the last time she ate? Maybe before the performance… seven hours ago. 

"Excuse me…" she mumbled nervously, looking at the sandwich the lady was eating. "Where did you get that?"

"There's a store there, you can buy food"

She nodded and sighed, her stomach rumbling more at the mention of food. Ophelia looked at her phone, sighing. She barely has battery.

"Fuck" she groaned, looking around, funding a table where some people used their laptops and phones.

She walked towards that table, nervous. What if she talks with someone and she breaks down immediately?

"Oh, excuse me" she smiled weakly to a woman, patting her shoulder "Hi, yeah. Do you casually have a charger for an iPhone? I just forgot mine and the ones of those stores there.are so expensive and I already wasted a lot of money buying a business seat…"

"I'm sorry, no"

She sighed, wanting to cry. Today everything goes wrong. She needs to scream, not caring if she won't talk the next morning.

"I have an iPhone charger" someone said behind her, making her gasp and turn around.

Then their eyes met. She saw his blue eyes looking at her, how his lips curved with a polite smile. 

Somehow, his voice made the thoughts inside of her mind stop buzzing.

"Here" he smiled, disconnecting his phone from the charger and letting her use it.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @lorarri @musingsbyshreya

#f1 #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #f1 serie #formula 1 #formula 1 drabble #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one fanfic #formula one fanfiction #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher

[tessenpai]

Kono Oto Tomare Chapter 127 Scans and Rough TL

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT use this translation to make your own TL of the chapter!! The KOT TL group works very hard to give you the most accurate translation, that does as much justice to the original script as possible. This is a ROUGH translation. That means is faulty and there must be mistakes in certain places. This is just for impatient people like myself to get a grasp on what is going on in the chapter! You can REFERENCE my TL if you want to discuss the chapter but never USE it as it was your own.

Scans:

Page 1

Side text: Welcoming the morning of the decisive battle---

Page 2

Sfx: pipipipi pipipipi

Chika: Ngh...

Page 3

Takezou: Good morning, Kudo-kun. The weather is great.

Takezou: Are you ok? Weren't you able to sleep well?

Chika: Ngh---...

Takezou: We still have time so you can sleep until we really have to get ready.

Page 4

Takezou: I will come wake you up later.

Takezou [thoughts]: Maybe I should close the curtains again---?

Chika: Ah!

Page 5

Chika: Sorry, I was still half asleep.

Chika: Mornin'

Takezou: ----Yeah.

Takezou: Good morning.

Side text: It surely will go well---

Chapter Title: Dear

Page 6

Sane: Finally... it begins now. Today is the day.

Mittsu: Yeah... I feel like I'm gonna throw up my breakfast...

Kota: Stop it! You will stiff up!!

Sane: Let's do the ritual we did before the preliminaries!

Kota: Eh? What was it, again?

Sane: If I remember it right, in your hand over here, there are points that ease the tension if you press---

Mittsu: That hurts, you idiot!! Do it in your own hand!!

Chika: Are you guys really getting nervous this early again? Pathetic.

Chika: Takinami also said it yesterday.

Chika: That we are already the best and incredibly awesome, and we should only have fun now.

Suzuka: I didn't say that.

Page 7

Sane: The hell, what's your deal Chika!

Chika: In my dream, our performance was a huge success

Mittsu: It was only a success in your dreams!!

Mittsu: Isn't that, like, a red flag!?

Chika: Shut up! I already have the image of what our success will look like in my mind!

Hiro: Oh, man. Everyone's already here!

Takezou: Ah, Kurusu-san, Hozuki-sa----...

Page 8

Kota: Wooaah, you both did your hair a bit today!!

Sane: Oh, you're right!

Hiro: It may give us a little boost of energy!

Kota: So cute---!!

Hiro: Thank you.

Takezou: ...Lost the timing to say it...

Suzuka: Ok, everyone's here now.

Suzuka: Is a bit early but let's start moving---

Hiro: So- sorry, wait just a moment...! Just- just this!!

Page 9

Hiro & Satowa: For Momoya-kun and Yoshinaga-kun!!

Mittsu: Aaaah--- these!! Woah

Hiro: In the Preliminaries, Hozuki-chan made us charms! So we thought to give you yours!

Satowa: A received help from Hiro-senpai this time.

Kota: We also brought ours--!

Atsumu: !

Atsumu: I-i-i-i-is it really ok for me to accept such a marvelous thing...

Hiro: Of course! It would make us very happy if you did!

Atsumu: Thank you so much!!!

Page 10

Natsu: ...

Hiro: We thought... that you might be uncomfortable receiving handmade stuff, Momoya-kun, but

Satowa: If you don't want it, it's absolutely fine for you to throw it away...

Natsu: No, I wouldn't throw it away...

Atsumu: Should we put it as backpack keychains?

Natsu: No, I'm afraid to lose it if we do that.

Hiro: !

Satowa: Also, Keishi-san if you'd like... This time we've relied on you so much...

Keishi: Whaat, for real!? You're also giving me one!?

Page 11

Keishi: Woaah-- thank you--!

Chika: ...

Chika[sfx]: Rustle

Kota: I'm sitting with Aki-chan today--

Sane: Wha- We gotta decide that with rock-paper-scissors!!

Kota: First come, first served--

Sane: What the hell, you--

Satowa: Giggle

Satowa: !

Page 12

Chika: Hozuki, sit here today.

Satowa: Blush. Eh-

Page 13

Satowa: Eh, wh- why...

Chika: Just sit here.

Hiro [thoughts]: Kyaaaaaaa-----!!!

Hiro [thoughts]: What what what. Excuse me, Chika-kun----!? What are you doing!!?

Hiro [thoughts]: Woaaah--- Ahhh geez--- that's nice--- That's sooo nice---

Hiro [thoughts]: Both being in love in the National Competition is so nice---

Hiro [thoughts]: Bu- but from here on it's all about the performance!

Hiro [thoughts]: There's no time for me to be jealous!!

Hiro [thoughts]: Gotta keep it together---

Suzuka: Kurusu.

Hiro: Yes...

Suzuka: You have people behind you, move to the back quickly

Hiro: Ah, so- sorry.

Page 14

Hiro [thoughts]: To the back----...

Suzuka [memory]: You might as well make that into your strength

Hiro: Ku- Kurata, can I sit with you?

Takezou: !

Takezou: Of course.

Page 15

Takezou: Would you like to sit by the window?

Natsu: ...

Satowa [thoughts]: I wonder… with what intention did he…

Satowa: I mean, we often together at the venues, too. It's not like there has to be a big reason for it now, but...

Chika: ...About that charm

Page 16

Satowa: Eh?

Chika: When you made them last time, you didn't make one for yourself, Hozuki.

Chika: Did you make one this time?

Satowa: ...Hiro-senpai offered to make me one but...

Satowa: I- I refused...

Chika: Eh? Why?

Satowa: Why, you say...

Satowa [thoughts]: Because Kudo wrote my name in his. That made me so happy, that for me it made it my charm and

Page 18

Satowa [thoughts]: Is not like I can say that to him-!!! I did tell Hiro-senpai, though...

Satowa: It's fine, really.

Chika: ...

Chika: Mhmmmmm. I see.

Chika: ...

Chika: ...

Satowa [thoughts]: Wha- what is it?

Satowa [thoughts]: I really don't get it---

Chika: Then I guess you wouldn't want this?

Page 19

Satowa: -----... Tha- that's...

Satowa: Did you make that... for me...?

Chika: ---As- As I thought, you wouldn't really care for it, right!? You wouldn't use it! My bad--

Page 20

Satowa: I would!!!

Page 21

Satowa: I most definitely would... so.

Chika: ...

Chika: Here

Satowa: ...Thank you...

Satowa: Ah, that's right.

Page 22

Satowa: Look! Now it matches yours, Kudo.

Satowa: Wait!

Satowa: Could it be that you also made charms for Momoya-kun and Yoshinaga-kun...!?

Chika: Well, no. I thought you would make theirs this time around as well...

Satowa: I see. That's a relief.

Chika [sfx]: ba-dump ba-dump

Chika [thoughts]: Dangerous... That was sooo dangerous---....

Page 23

Chika [thoughts]: I wanna hug her so bad-----....

Chika: Gonna sleep.

Satowa: Suddenly!?

Page 24

Takezou: Today the weather is so nice.

Hiro: Wha- Ah, yes. The ideal weather to compete!!

Takezou: Ideal to compete! Ahaha

Hiro: ... ...

Hiro: ...Kurata. Um, you see...

Hiro: Only if you'd like, would you...

Hiro: ----Nghh

Hiro: Would you write your name on my charm!?

Page 25

Hiro: I mean, you see- Last time Chika wrote Hozuki-chan's name on his charm and I thought that gave it more power or something... so...

Hiro [thoughts]: Wow this is so embarrassing...

Hiro: Ah bu- but maybe imitating those two would be a bit, you know-

Hiro [thoughts]: Uuuugh--- what am I even saying.

Hiro: Sorry, I said something weird...

Page 26

Takezou: Then, should we exchange charms?

Page 27

Hiro: Ex- Exchange charms with you, Kurata?

Kurata: Only if you'd like, Kurusu-san.

Hiro: I would!!!

Page 28

Takezou: ...Alright. Okay, here's... mine.

Hiro: Ye- yeah! Thank you!!

Page 29

Takezou: Fu

Page 30

Hiro: ---I will protect it with my life!!!

Takezou: Ahaha That's very reassuring. I will do my best as well.

Sane: ...

Page 31

Sane: Should we... exchange ours as well...? Sigh...

Mittsu: Will you protect me...?

Sane: ...If you want...

Page 32

Man: Here

Tougo: Thank you very much.

Page 33

Man: That would be the last one.

Kifune-sensei: Yes. Thank you very much.

Man: I get to send off Ichiei's students every year. But this year is even more amazing.

Kifune-sensei: Amazing?

Man: Yeah. How do I put it..?

Man: Their atmosphere? Or more like an aura.

Man: It's so overwhelming. It's a bit scary.

Page 34

Man: Are they also in peak condition?

Kifune-sensei: Yeah. Of course.

Page 35

Kifune-sensei: Like never before.

Side text: The group of genius koto players is their biggest hurdle to victory---

---Kono Oto Tomare! will continue next month!!!---

#kono oto tomare! #kono oto tomare #kot #sounds of life #stop this sound! #kot! #rough tl #kono oto tomare 127 #kono oto tomare! 127 #kot 127 #kot! 127 #spoilers

[daimyosprincess]

PART I: FOREWORD

—PAIRING: Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—SERIES RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—SUMMARY: When the new Mandalorian studies professor Boba Fett comes into the university library looking for help, you’re more than happy to be of assistance.

—WORD COUNT: 6.4k

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, references to sexual themes, alternate universe, professor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is mid-twenties and Boba is late forties), bisexual reader, reader described as having hair, alcohol consumption by reader and others, GRATUITOUS flirting (like a ridiculous amount), use of pet names

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here it is, my first ever posted fic! I'm so excited to share this with y'all, it's been so much fun to write. Thank you for all your support for this series. Enjoy the Boba brainrot with me :)

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

Part II>

The university library is dead—classes aren’t in session and things are slow. The afternoon summer sun streams through the building’s tall windows, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the golden light. The faint rustle of papers turning is the only sound filling the idle air other than you and your coworker’s chatting at the circulation desk. 

“No, I’m telling you there’s no good guys to date here. They’re all either emotionally unavailable or terrible in bed… or both,” your friend Selena gripes. She’s exasperated by the most recent of her flings ghosting her after their last hookup. 

Swirling your iced coffee, you roll your eyes. “Well maybe you need to expand your dating pool, there’s more out there than just twenty-something guys who spend all their time in the gym.” You grin knowingly at your friend—she definitely has a type.

She throws an elbow at you. “Hey! Not all of us are into girls and men old enough to be our dads! Speaking of which…” she cuts off, wiggling her perfect eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice calls from behind your back, “is there a librarian I can speak to about reserving my course materials?” The voice’s vowels lilt and come together like sand being molded by an ocean wave, powerful yet graceful—it’s a voice that could warm you in sunny, shallow waters or drown you in a raging storm.

All but choking on your coffee, you spin to face the front desk. Standing on the other side of the counter is the most handsome man you think you’ve ever seen: copper skin, white teeth, and dark eyes stand atop a crisp linen shirt rolled up to reveal thick, strong forearms. Pale, silvered scars crisscross his skin, glinting in the light, making him look equally dangerous and enticing, like a trap baited with everything you’ve ever wanted.

Shit, he could get me in a lot of trouble… and I’d let him. You clear your throat, doing your best to recover with at least some of your dignity intact—a difficult task when the absolute god of a man before you just heard that you’re definitely into men his age. 

Selena, however, beats you to an answer. “Yes, sir, that would be my coworker here,” she answers in a sing-song voice, “she’s more than happy to help you with anything you need.” You shoot her a dirty look as she flounces away back to her desk in the back, her attitude completely unapologetic.

Being the flirt you are, you did fully intend to hit on this handsome professor, but that’s not the point. Rallying your thoughts, you flash him a dazzling smile. “Yes, I certainly am,” you confirm. “What can I do for you, professor…?” Your voice trails off in anticipation of his response, and you catch the dark gleam in his coffee-colored eyes. 

“Fett, Boba Fett. Professor of Mandalorian studies,” he answers smoothly, his rich timbre confident and unphased by you and Selena’s antics.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, professor,” you respond, matching his blithe tone. You introduce yourself with your name and title as the research materials librarian.

He smirks, flicking his eyes over your frame in a casual, yet interested, way. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” When his eyes meet yours again, they flicker with amber fire, bright and tempting.

You let his compliment hang in the sunlit air between you for a moment, gauging whether he too felt the electric connection buzzing between you two. Judging by the glint in his eye and quirk of his lips, he did.

Game on. “Well, usually faculty submit their materials for purchase and reservation at the end of the previous school year or at the beginning of the summer session,” you inform him with an overly patronizing tone. “But I suppose I can make an exception for you since you’re being so polite.” You end your statement with a wink, inviting him in to test the waters.  

Taking your hint, he leans his muscled arms on the high lip of the desk, bringing himself closer into your space. “You’re too kind. Things have been a little difficult since I’m new to the school and wasn’t in the country until last week… and I’d really appreciate your help, princess.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like spiced honey, hot and sweet.

  Your brows arch up and you run your tongue over teeth behind your lips as you consider the handsome professor. Most men you meet are either too intimidated or too stupid to give you a fair fight, but this Boba Fett… he might just be the one. Without saying much, he’s said it all: true power doesn’t need to be defended because it speaks for itself. His innate confidence makes your stomach tighten and your blood run hot—this is going to be even more fun than you first thought. “Why don’t you come into my office and I can see what all I can do for you, Professor Fett,” you offer with a flirty smile.

“Please,” he entreats with a saccharine smile, “call me Boba.”

Leaning against your doorframe, Boba shoulders his leather satchel, his broad shoulders rippling under the material of his shirt. The muscles in his arms carve out valleys in his marked skin, making your mind race with the thought of how those arms would feel around you, lifting you up, or pinning you down beneath him. The way he totally fills up the space around him is enough to send heat between your legs, and the snatches of fantasy only heighten the desire simmering in your core. You’ve done everything you can to help the professor at the moment, but neither of you seem too keen on parting just yet, much to your satisfaction. 

“So how old are you, then?” he asks, eyeing you tilted back in your chair below him.

You’d teased him about his thesis date being long before your birth while you chatted as you submitted his materials requests. “Why, professor,” you taunt, looking up at him from heavy-lidded eyes, “are you trying to make sure I’m at least eighteen?”

He answers with a devil’s grin. “No, just trying to see whether or not I’m old enough to be your father.”

Yep, he definitely heard that earlier, you groan internally as heat pricks up your neck. Not one to be beaten so easily, however, you lazily trail your eyes down to his left hand braced on your door, a smirk splitting your face when you don’t find a ring. “As long as you’re single, I’m twenty-six.”

“And if I’m not?” he counters, cocking his head in pointed curiosity.

You pray to whoever might be listening that he is because you might not survive temptation much longer, not with the way he’s looking at you like you’re the sweetest dessert he’s ever seen. “Well then, I’d be twenty-six and disappointed.” 

He snorts, shaking his head with a deliciously low chuckle. “You really are something, aren’t you, little one?”

Your stomach flips at his continued use of the sweet names, but you swallow it down. Boba Fett is a test you intend on passing and that means you have to keep your wits about you.  “I have been told I can be quite the handful. Hope that's not a problem… don’t think it would be for you, though,” you reply, looking him up and down meaningfully and letting your eyes linger on the fabric stretched tight over his biceps. He’s built like a kriffing brick wall, thick and solid, and you want to climb him to the very top. 

The sultry look he gives you makes you think he’d let you, too. “After forty-seven years, princess, I don't think it would be.”

That same hum of charged energy of your initial meeting fills your office as your gaze falls into line with the intense depth of his own. You were wrong before, he’s not looking at you like you’re dessert. You’re prey, soft and open, and he’s the predator tracking you deeper and deeper in the forest, far away so no one would hear your shriek when sunk his teeth into your flesh. 

But did prey ever want to be torn apart by its hunter? You roll your lips together, squeezing your thighs against the embers of desire flickering to life between them. 

A few moments later, your computer chirps with an email notification and you blink back to reality, the tension fizzling out into the surrounding air. Probably for the best since I’m about ten seconds away from jumping this man's bones in my office. Straightening up in your seat, you clear your throat. “Same time tomorrow, then, professor?”

“If it’s not a problem,” he shrugs, his heated gaze betraying his nonchalance, “I know you’re a busy girl.”

He’s clearly enjoying calling you everything but your name and you, much to your surprise, are lapping it up. In an attempt to even the score, you push up from your chair, snatching up one of your business cards from your desk and scribbling your cell number on the back. Sauntering over to him stretched out in your door, you stop just a little closer than absolutely necessary. You slip the piece of paper into his front pocket, pleased with the way the muscle in his jaw twinges at the contact. “Oh, no, it’s no problem at all,” you practically purr, “At the university, we want to make sure our new faculty enjoy everything the library has to offer.” 

He huffs in amusement, not moving away. “Your efforts should be rewarded, then,” he notes, his voice like rich molasses, “You’ve been nothing but eager.”

Before you can stop the impish impulse, you rattle off your usual coffee order. The worst he can say is no, but something tells you he’s willing to indulge you just a bit more than most would.

He tilts his head to the side, his lips twitching into a smile in understanding a second later. “Size?”

“As much as you’re willing to give me,” you wink, flipping your pen between your fingers under your chin. You’d like to think he’d indulge you in that too, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, his voice like bittersweet woodsmoke, “I’ll make sure you get everything you deserve.” The promises laced through his words like invisible threads, weaving together images of love-bruised skin and rough hands pressed into soft flesh.  

You swallow thickly, and almost groan in embarrassment when his eyes track the bob of your throat with a smug look. “You could get a man into trouble, little one. A lot of trouble…” 

He shoves off the doorframe, his face swaying dangerously close to yours as he turns to leave. “See you tomorrow, princess.” He says the words like a promise rather than a casual expression.

“Oh, professor?” you call out after him. You can’t let this man come out of your office thinking he’s won your little game, your pride simply won’t allow it—and neither will the lurid desire bubbling up from somewhere deep within you. You want to push him, needle him until he snaps, poke the bear until he takes a swipe. Not very smart for someone who’s definitely the prey.

He turns to face you as if he had been hoping you’d stop him. “Yes?”

“You should know,” you bait, letting your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up in wicked pleasure, “I like trouble.”

Every day since your electrifying meeting has been an excuse to see him: hand delivering something that could have been interofficed, calling his office phone and inviting him to look over some course book in person, or volunteering to give him a tour of campus that happened to include lunch together. Boba’s like a burning sun and you’ve been ensnared in his orbit, your every phase and season given life by his heat.

When you couldn’t find an excuse to be around him, he found one; he came to make copies in the library because his department’s machine “never seems to work right,” the coffee shop gave him an extra pastry he “couldn’t possibly eat,” or the darn databases wouldn’t let him log in and you’re the “only one who can get them to work.” Even when your extensive partnership gathering his course materials came to an end, Boba was quick to offer you a spot in his office to work while last minute construction went on in the library before the start of the fall semester.

Boba’s office is tucked away at the end of a long hall in the gothic-style humanities building and quickly becomes your own personal sanctuary for the remainder of the summer. Its soaring ceiling and long, arched window gave a sense of lightness to the corner space, the natural light reflecting off the pale walls. Brass lamps with warm, golden light keep the room cozy when clouds roll in, along with the sumptuous oriental rug spread over the stone floor. Boba’s furniture is functional and comfortable; a large, sorrel leather couch sits perpendicular against the wall from his sturdy oak desk, accompanied by matching armchairs facing him for visitors. The walls are lined with bookshelves and cabinets housing his impressive personal library and mementos from his illustrious life.

It’s in this ivory tower oasis that your heart begins to grow into a softer shape and your mind settles into the rough-hewn grooves of the professor’s tides. The power of him both rouses and relieves, stirs and soothes; the shards of you are made into soft seaglass by the roll and drag of his waves against the sand. And oh, how you’re tempted to let him pull you under the glassy surface, to submit and let his current tow you to blissful paradise. You yearn to provoke his storms as well as seek his shelter from the harsh creatures of everyday life—you’re sure he’s going to be the end of you.

The week before classes start you’re slouched comfortably across the couch in his office. Sunlight dapples the room in a saffron glow through the forked leaves of ivy hugging the window as you’re half-heartedly responding to the numerous last minute item requests from harried professors. While most of them are smart enough to be polite, quite a few have decided to be rude, pain in the asses instead. 

You grumble loudly, throwing your head back against the cushion behind you. Your frustration is not helped by the fact Boba is extra good looking today, his white shirt is practically glowing against his sun-kissed skin and open a button lower than usual for the breezy weather—not that you noticed those kinds of things about him. Just like you definitely weren’t aching for his attention that’s currently wrapped up in class prep.

“Why do all these professors expect me to drop everything to attend to their specific requests like I have nothing better to do?” you huff, massaging your temples with your fingertips. “I do have an actual job besides course reserves.”

Looking over a pair of reading glasses, Boba leans back in his chair, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Must have seen you doing it for me, princess.”

You blow out a dismissive sound and roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, you’re different.” Snapping your laptop closed, you manage to keep the pleased smile from turning up your lips. You have Boba’s attention now, just like you really wanted.

“Mmm, different how?” he hums, his intense gaze now trained on your face.

The heat of his assured, teasing confidence makes your guts churn. While your mutual physical attraction to one another is surely evident to both of you, you’ve been doing your best to hide the fact that he holds your heart in his hands too. No use ruining the good thing you have going with the handsome professor by admitting you have an honest-to-god crush with feelings.

Rolling over on your side so you can prop your head up on your hand, you find Boba entirely too smug for your liking. Putting on your most innocent face, you blink up at him with wide doe eyes. “Oh, you know me, professor, always happy to help you older folks figure out all the complicated technology involved in getting your books.” Despite your efforts, you can’t help cracking a grin at the end of your sentence.

That sparks the fire you hoped it would in Boba, his eyes glittering and his posture shifting forward in response to your goading. “Watch it, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Heaven help me, he looks so kriffing good, his shoulders alone make me want to risk it all. “Don’t worry,” you grin, “I’ve never had any trouble swallowing what’s in my mouth.”

“Well, well, well,” a rich female voice interjects from the door, making you jerk upright. “If it isn’t the new Mandalorian studies professor going at it with the pretty little librarian. I should’ve known that I couldn’t trust you around her, Fett.”

“Fennec!” you exclaim, relief dousing your prickling surprise: she knew you were a tease. You scramble off the lounge and throw your arms around your friend. “It’s Wednesday,” you state, perplexed, “I thought you wouldn’t be back from your trip until Friday?”

She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a satisfying hug. “Missed you too much, kitten, had to come back a little early,” she answers with her usual flirtatiousness. You don’t miss the way she winks at Boba over your shoulder as her palms slide over the small of your back when she pulls away. You secretly hope it will make him a little jealous.

“Never met a beautiful girl you didn’t try to seduce, have you Shand?” Boba pipes up from behind you, his tone familiar.

Your heart rate spikes at his compliment but you tamp down the heat threatening to creep up your face. Stepping back, you swing your head back and forth between the two professors. “You two know each other?”

Flicking her long braid over her shoulder, Fennec smiles, throwing a puckish look at the man behind the desk. “Oh, Boba and I go way back, long before either of us cleaned up and joined academia. Who do you think got him a job here?” she quips, sinking her weight onto her hip with her usual air of unapologetic fortitude.

“I got myself a job here,” Boba cracks back, his grumbling making it obvious he’s accustomed to Fennec’s ribbing.

She shrugs, grinning. “Don’t discount the power of a good word on the inside.” Slinging an arm around your shoulder, she loudly whispers in your ear, “What’s a pretty thing like you doing with a man like him anyways, kitten? Thought I taught you better than that.”

“Kark off, Shand,” Boba huffs, and Fennec throws her hands up in front of her chest in a showy apology.

Letting his languid gaze slide over to you, Boba studies the curves and planes of your body, mapping out each. You can’t squash the tingling glow buzzing in your chest at his attention, and your eyes sink down under fluttering lashes, your resolve weakened. “She’s a smart girl, she knows what she wants,” he finally says, releasing you from his inspection to smirk at his colleague.

The heat in your lower belly flares hot and wanting at his passive claim over you. Shit. Sometimes you wish he’d just shove your clothes aside and bend you over the nearest flat surface to take you for himself. Dangerous thoughts like those keep you up at night, wishing it his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy instead of your own. 

You drop back down onto the couch to buy yourself a second to regroup. Kicking your feet up in an act of collected indifference, you drawl, “Aw, don't you two go fighting over me, there’s plenty to go around.”

“Yeah, but Boba doesn’t like to share,” Fennec snorts.

You grin up at the dark-haired woman and prop your computer back on your thighs. “Good thing we’re just friends then, Fenn.”

“Lucky him,” she chuckles. Straightening up and drawing a breath, her jovial expression settles into something more sincere. “Well, I’ve got plenty to do for classes next week, just wanted to stop by when I heard your voices. It’s good to see you again.”

Genuine affection spreads in your chest as you look up at your friend; for all her teasing and bluster, Fennec has a heart of gold. “Glad you made it back safe, Fenn, we’ll get coffee and catch up soon,” you promise with a candid smile.

“Sounds good, let me know if you ever want some better looking company.” She winks at you then tosses her head in Boba’s direction. “Always a pleasure to see you still in one piece, Fett.”

Despite his glowering expression, Boba’s voice is warm. “Same to you, Shand. Just remember to always watch your back.” The sound of the dark-haired woman’s throaty laugh echoes down the hallway as she heads towards her office. 

When you look back at Boba, his mahogany eyes are already on you. They’re watching, as they often are, like you’re some fascinating phenomenon that might disappear if he doesn’t recommit it to memory repeatedly. “So you and Fennec are friends,” he states simply, leaning forward on his elbows. There’s something expectant in his tone, his demeanor hinting at anticipation. It makes the cozy atmosphere of the office crackle with intent.

You learned rather quickly that there was little use in trying to figure out Boba when he didn’t want to be figured, so you relax back into the couch and play along. “Yeah, she’s one of the first people I met when I started at the university. She took me under her wing and helped me find my way around here, she’s a good friend.” Before you can think better of it, you add, “But she’s only ever been a friend, despite what she might hint at.”

A small smile chips through the stony set to his features that makes your heart skip a beat. “Well that’s good to hear. Raises my hopes for your answer to my next question.” The richness of his voice belies any nervousness, if a man like him even feels such a thing. He always seems so sure, always in total control. 

Was he jealous of Fennec? Your mouth goes dry and you force your easy smile to stay in place; Boba’s focus is zeroed in on you and you'd rather die than slip up in front of him—he'd enjoy it far too much. “Oh, do tell, professor. I'm all ears,” you urge, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your cool with passing success.

His lips twitch up, amused with your brashness. “You’ve been more than helpful these past four weeks, little one,” he begins, “I couldn't have gotten everything done for my classes or had the peace of mind to get properly settled here.”

“Really, it's no problem, I don't-”

Boba raises a hand for silence and your jaw clicks shut in quick obedience—much to your embarrassment and his obvious pleasure. “Whether you mind or not,” he continues, “or if you feel it's your job, I greatly appreciate all your efforts.” He studies you for a moment and it feels like he can see right through to your insides. “Can I take you to dinner at the Vineyard this Saturday, to thank you for all you've done?”

Genuine surprise releases a stream of words pouring from your lips before you can even register them. “The Vineyard? Downtown? It’s so fancy, you don't have to do that. I mean it's like $100 dinners and-”

“You deserve it, princess. I told you you'd get everything you deserve, remember?” Boba smiles, the corners of eyes crinkling in a fond expression. “Plus, I enjoy your company… and I think you enjoy mine, too.”

Your poor heart is beating so hard in your ribs you’re sure Boba's able to hear it. The safety of him and his space have disarmed your usual defenses, sanded down the spear of your tongue; it’s equal parts freeing and terrifying, uncharted territory ripe with possibilities and danger. You’re left unable to deny his assertion—or form any real words—so you opt to arch a brow instead. 

“Don’t play coy, little one,” he chastens, his firm words and velvet tone skating over your heated skin. “I know construction in the library finished last week, yet you're still spending all your days in my office.”

Biting your lip, you do your best to look surprised. “Oh, really? I must have, uh, missed the memo on that,” you try lamely, scratching at the back of your neck. It’s a weak defense but it’s all you can muster at the moment, only half your brain is available to cobble together a response; the other half is too busy fighting the urge to leap over his desk and into his lap.

Boba chuffs a laugh, his handsome face all too knowing and his deep eyes sparkling with amusement—and maybe something darker, more sensual if you could bear to look. His reaction does, however, kick-start your customary attitude. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fix him with the most sardonic look you can. “Well, I didn’t see you complaining, professor.” You tack on an eye roll for good measure as it never fails to get a reaction from him. And, oh, how you wanted to get one out of him, be the reason he’s loses his cool. Just the mere thought of it makes you ache.

Cocking his head to the side, he has the gall to look like he’s already won. “Why would I complain about getting what I want?” His face is drawn in a question, but his eyes flash with the answer.

“Well, you… you, er,” you stammer, suddenly unable to find a foothold. Boba had shaken the very earth beneath you with his admission, it has scattered your mind and rattled the bedrock of your resolve. The familiar nagging, forbidden desire to give in, to submit wells up in your throat; it would be easy, sinfully easy, to give up the fight and let Boba win. But easy’s never been my thing, has it?

Rolling back your shoulders, you mount your last stand. You let your head loll over to look at him directly, your eyes peeking out at him from under hooded lids. “And just what do you want, Boba Fett?” you answer, your voice husky and weighted.

The air itself thickens around you, dampening the outside world to something far away and unimportant as Boba contemplates his response. This is the impasse the two of you had been circling all along, choosing to precariously balance your brash determination against his indomitable will rather than risk tipping the scales. The only true solution is for one of you to give, but neither of you had yet been willing to break.

Finally, Boba’s lips part, a quick tongue darting out to wet the chapped skin. “I want,” he starts, low and deliberate, “to take you out to a nice dinner, have a good glass of wine… and have you all to myself.”

His words are etched in crystalline honesty and thus you have no choice but to respond in kind, even if it only skirts your shared quandary. “Then who am I to deny you, professor?”

The rest of the week might as well not have even happened as far as you're concerned—all that mattered was making it to Saturday. Boba had dangled the promise of sweet reward in front of you and seemed content to watch you flounder your way to it over the intervening days. It also didn’t help that Selena could not shut up about it, even now as she’s standing behind you, pinning and primping your hair to her liking.

“Ooo, I can’t believe it’s really happening!” she squeals, sliding another bobby pin into place against your scalp. “You and the hot professor, going on a date to a romantic restaurant all dressed up! I bet he’s going to invite you back to his place after. Do you think he has a big… you know?”

“If you never finish with my hair, I’ll never have to know,” you grumble. Now that the time has nearly come, you’re about sick to your stomach with all the overthinking you’ve done. You almost talked yourself out of going three times before Selena even came over to help you get ready.

“Hey, none of that sad shit,” she chides, pointing a hairbrush at you in the mirror. “You’ve been dying to go on this date all week, you’ve just got a little case of nerves. Totally normal.”

“But what if he doesn’t actually see this as a date? He never actually said it was. Or what if he really just wants to sleep with me and ditch me after this?” You groan, flopping back against your vanity chair miserably. Your earlier suspicions about his mutual feelings for you had soured—now you’re not even sure he likes you. 

Selena thwacks the back of the head. “Ow!” you yelp, glaring at her in your reflection.

“Pull yourself together. Anyone within a mile radius of you two can tell you’re crazy about each other. Now sit still so I can get these pieces even,” she orders, centering you in the mirror with her hands on your shoulders. You do as she says, focusing on the practiced movements of her hands as a distraction for the feeling in your gut.

By the time you pull on your dress and slip into your shoes, you’re beginning to come back around to your usual self, likely in part due to the shot of tequila Selena convinced you to take with her—not that you needed much convincing to begin with. 

She hypes you up as she fastens the clasp of your necklace around your throat. “Shit, girl, you look hot! I’m not sure he’s going to be able to take his eyes off you long enough to drive to the restaurant.” 

“I do look good don’t I?” You flash yourself a smile in the mirror. After a trip to the mall yesterday, you and Selena had decided on a simple black satin slip dress and matching strappy heels. The deep “V” of the neckline and snug fit around your hips gave the dress just enough sex appeal while still being elegant. Twisting around, you check the lines of the dress in the back. “It’s too bad no one can see these panties, they’re so cute.”

“Oh, someone’s going to be seeing them alright,” Selena giggles from her perch on the end of your bed.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the girlish grin turning up the corners of your mouth at her insinuation. Shit, I hope he rips them off me. “Only if I decide he deserves to.”

“There she is, there’s the girl we know and love. Give him hell!” 

Your phone dings on your bedside table and your friend snatches it up before you can get to it. “Hey! Give it!” you demand, grabbing at the device.

Sliding up the bed out of your reach, Selena hunches around your phone. “He’s here! And he sent a bunch of heart emojis.”

Your nerves tingle in cold-hot anticipation, your face going slack in disbelief. “He did?!”

Selena bursts into laughter. “No, I’m just messing with you, he just said he’s outside.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you groan, snatching away your phone. “Go ahead and see if I keep helping you come up with texts to send all your gym rat side pieces.”

She lays a hand on her chest, feigning shock. “You would never. Now get out there and blow his socks off, or you know, whatever else you want to blow.” She smirks suggestively, shooing you towards the door. “I’ll lock up, now out out out.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” Your heart hammers in your chest and you consider another shot of tequila before dismissing it—no need to set yourself up to be any hornier than you already are for the Mandalorian professor. Slinging your purse over your shoulder, you’re out the door.

Leaning against a sleek midnight black Audi is Boba Fett in all his glory, dressed in a well-fitted pressed shirt (with the sleeves rolled up, damn him) and gray slacks. His salt and pepper stubble and dark eyes make his already handsome face look even better. Catching your appearance in the doorway, he juts his chin up in greeting, his eyes sliding over you in obvious pleasure. “Evening, princess.”

He holds out an arm and you take it to step off the curb, testing his muscles underneath your fingers as you do; if Boba notices, thankfully he doesn’t say it. He opens the passenger door and you step in, settling down onto the supple leather of the lush interior. 

He doesn’t close the door right away, instead standing and clearly enjoying the view down your dress. You glare up at him in mock annoyance. “You gonna stare like a dirty old man or are you going to take me to dinner, professor?”

“You’re the one who got all dressed up for a dirty old man, sweetheart, I figured you'd want me to enjoy it,” he replies smoothly, his lips quirking into a smirk as he shuts the door before you can manage a response.

Yep, these panties don’t stand a chance.

“So, Fennec tells me you were some sort of deadly mercenary gun-for-hire before you settled down to teach the impressionable young minds of university students,” you smile cheekily over your glass of wine, swirling the sparkling contents around the cup’s curves. “That true?” Stars help me if it is, I don’t know if he can get any sexier.

The evening air is crisp and warm, a mild sea-breeze rustling the hem of your dress under the table. The scene laid out around you is so terribly romantic you have to pinch yourself a few times to make sure it’s not all part of the best dream you’ve ever had. Tables for two are scattered over a stone patio overlooking the sunsetted ocean, with glowing candles in their centerpieces and string lights criss-crossed overhead illuminating the space with soft light. 

Boba lets out an exasperated sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Of course she did. Don’t believe everything she says about me, she loves to tell a good story.”

“Avoiding the question, are we?”

“Sure you don’t want any dessert?”

“Aww, come on Boba, pleeease? Please tell me,” you whine playfully, sticking out your bottom lip for extra effect. He hadn’t denied you anything yet tonight—and you intend on keeping it that way. 

He sighs, resigned to his fate. “You’re going to be the death me, you know that, princess?” You squeal a pleased sound and lean in conspiratorially on both your elbows, eager to hear his answer. Tossing his napkin from his lap onto the table, he leans against the back of his chair and props his arm up, gazing at you over the candlelight. “I’ll tell you, but you have to answer a question of mine if I do. Deal?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you nod, blinking your eyes down to his crotch and back up to his face slowly so he’s sure to notice. “Yeah, we have a deal. Spill it.”

True to his word, Boba recounts what you’re sure is a heavily abridged version of his life before becoming a teacher. He was born on a rainy little island called Kamino and lost his father young. While his father was a Mandalorian, Boba himself didn’t necessarily consider himself to be one, hinting that he hadn’t felt the most welcome by his father’s people when he visited the island of Mandalore before it’d been nearly wiped off the face of the earth. 

Alone in the Mandalorian diaspora, Boba had turned to what he knew best to make his way in the world: fighting. Working protection gigs, “recovering property” (which no doubt was not entirely legal), and retrieving missing or abducted persons, he made a name for himself in that world as the best since his old man. It was also how he met Fennec, who apparently was one of the best espionage mercs money could buy, and why he had a ridiculous amount of money for a college professor.

“So why did you go into teaching then?” you ask, pushing your now empty glass aside. “Kind of an interesting choice considering your… previous profession.”

“Didn’t plan on it.” Boba drains the rest of his glass and sets it next to yours. “After one too many close calls, though, I knew I couldn't continue that life. All of that wasn’t-isn’t the legacy I want to leave behind. The death of my father and his heritage might have been out of my control, but I will not let it be in vain. So I took what I knew, learned what I didn’t, and started teaching in Mandalorian studies.”

You two sit in silence for a while, watching the tide roll in under the silver gleam of the moon. “Thank you for sharing.” Your voice is almost a whisper, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad. He would've been so proud to see the person you’ve become, I’m sure of it.”

Boba tilts his head to the side, studying you as if you’ve said the most interesting thing the world has ever heard. “Thank you… that’s kind of you to say,” he answers quietly, as if he doesn’t quite believe you himself. The careful look in his eye makes you wonder what other secret burdens the handsome professor bears in silence. Even more so, it makes you want to shoulder some of it, or at least provide him some sort of relief.

The table off to your right bursts into hoots of laughter and the dusky spell between you is broken. You blink the haze out of your eyes and Boba clears his throat. 

“Time to pay up, sweetheart. It’s my turn to ask you a question,” he smiles, his white teeth catching the flickering candlelight. The faraway solemnity in his eyes is replaced with dark heat.

“Go right ahead, I’m all yours,” you grin back, “ask away.”

Signaling your server for the check with two fingers, Boba leans forward, taking your hand in his large one. “Tell me, little princess, am I dropping you back at yours after this, or are you coming home with me?” 

—Endnotes: I don’t know anything about cars, I just know that Audi is a fancy car brand, at least in the US. Don’t judge me 😭. Also I guess this is a coastal university. I don't have a name for the school yet though, what do y'all think?

Part II>

#this one is for the girls the gays and george lucas #but most importantly #temuera morrison #the flirting is based on yours truly ✨ #that is IF i would even be able to form words in front of a man who is a clone of tem #might just be high pitched giggling #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #professor!boba fett #star wars fanfiction #professor boba fett #fanfic #ex libris fic #zwei writes

[reidslovely]

I wanna know how does frat!Peter comfort bashful when she's feeling insecure like when girls are all over him (pretty sure boys are all over her too but they don't wanna test Peter) what would Peter do in that situation?

i think this changes a lot throughout their relationship and how it progresses.

at first when they're not super exclusive (what peter referred to as their feeling each other out phase) she pretends not to care but Peter has like a fucking radar that goes off. like she has no claims over him, and he has none over her so why should she care that there is a very gorgeous, tall, platinum blonde women throwing herself at peter?? but she does. god does she care. so peter keeps his distance but does participate in the fun flirting, because he'd expect bashful to do the same. but he doesn't stay long at all. he's coming back two drinks in hand, arm wrapping around her pulling her close hand petting her hair down. quick with the praise.

"you're so pretty bashful. have ii told ya that since you got here? mhmm."

"shut up." she mumbles, muffling herself with her drink.

"oh no, no no. don't go shy on me, pretty girl."

the quick jab to his side shuts him up, but he smirks knowing he's built her back up a little bit.

however when it comes to them being more official around their sophomore year, bashful doesn't get as jealous but it does definitely make her insecure. obviously this is before the pregnancy. but no matter how quick peter is to shut it down, bashful does still have this eating feeling that maybe there's something better out there for him. peter is again quick to the praise, but he has show off rights now that come with the girlfriend-boyfriend title. so not only is he quick to call her beautiful, or smart. he's also at the jump to talk about how proud he is of her and how happy he is to be her boyfriend.

"can't believe you picked to be with me bashful. i'm really, really, flattered. think about how fuckin' lucky i got to be with you. it's crazy."

"you're drunk pete.." she laughs trying to shrug him off his bear hug as they walk to join harry outside on the back patio.

"'m not...here smell." he laughed craning his head forward breathing in her face. no alcohol on his breath. "minty fresh."

"you're fucking gross." bashful laughed moving her head away.

he doesn't like to outright call her out when feeling she's feeling insecure because he knows how hard that can be. peter himself does get super insecure when boys approach her so he does what he can to assure. he'll even tell the girls approaching him about her. just to let them know right up that he's a taken man and not interested.

bonus:

when bashful gets approached at the start of the relationship pete is quick on his feet, again, dude has a radar. he's by her side as fast as possible, arm around her smiling at the guy. but that's just because he's more outward in his approach than she is.

"been looking for ya bashful, whose your friend?"

the guy looks from her to pete, before he's backing away. peter has a reputation in the frat, he's not the fighter that's totally nate, but peter is intimidating alone with a look. he's only been in one fight since joining the frat, and it hasn't been lived down since. now you put hitting on his girlfriend into that mix??

"yeah no thanks.. this has been fun though." the guy laughs walking away.

'you're such a jealous ass.." bashful laughs shaking her head, looking up at him smiling.

"mhm.."

peter shrugged pressing his lips to her head.

frat Peter gif for the submission

#bambi talks #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #frat!peter #tasm andrew garfield

[jwnchstr]

title: behind the thick glass wall | b.barnes

characters: alpha!bucky barnes, omega!you!reader

summary: it's hard being an omega, but it's even harder to see your alpha on a date with another omega.

masterlist | my wattpad

*

it was cold. literally. you've gone to several mission with temperature below zero but the december wind seems to be eating your flesh.

you hugged yourself tighter, hands clamp into fists inside your jacket pockets (as if that would help that much) as you stood behind a thick glass wall, overlooking a couple who were having a good time.

you're keen to throw yourself inside. part of it because of the cold you could barely contain, but another part of you (this one is bigger) is because jealousy. how could a man look happier with a woman he barely knew?

bucky was making a joke, you're sure of it. that's how he was with women aside from you. his tight face loosened as he smiled at leah, showing his oh-so-friendly face. his eyes even sparkle under the yellow lights of the bar. he screamed romantic alpha, one that you could never have.

you can feel your heart shattering inside your chest, but not like you have an option here. you're just an omega whom genetically cannot produce that sweet pheromone that could make your alpha yearn for you. you're an omega who's genetically broken.

your breath hitched when you saw bucky reached leah's hand. how you wished it was your hand instead of leah's that he was reaching because you long for his touch. and you could blame it on failed missions, where bucky had to carry you in his arms, his fingertips grazing against your bare skin without being intended to. but since then, you can't forget what his touch felt like and you wanted more.

leah smiled and thing that you dreaded the most happened right in front of your eyes: leah reciprocating bucky's interest towards her. she linked her fingers with bucky's. it made bucky tensed for a few short seconds (and you wished you could smell him from the outside to know if he's somewhat uncomfortable with leah's gesture) but soon relaxed under leah's touch.

your heart broke even more.

as you punished yourself watching the lovely lovebirds, a cough attracted your attention. this time, it was your turn to tense. though, if anything, you'd rather call yourself alert. being an agent always has its advantage. you're ready to pounce on the incomer, but a familiar smell hits your nose. you cool down immediately.

it's mister nakajima.

"i don't believe that's how you attract the man you want, merely staring at him," standing a few steps behind your shoulder, he remarked.

you tried not to appear understood to what mister nakajima was referring to, but you know you'd look like a fool if you did so. at last, you sighed. sad knowing that mister nakajima was right. but again, you don't have any option and the old man didn't exactly know what's wrong with you.

"you had lunch, mister nakajima?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the subjects who were inside the bar.

"i'm about to." mister nakajima nodded his head towards the bar. he was shifting from one foot to another helped by the cane that he firmly gripped.

you glanced at the bar over the shoulder. "oh." your face fell as the thought of mister nakajima joining bucky and leah laughing together like a happy family without you.

but then, an idea popped into your mind and a smile crept onto your face. "i wonder, what would you say, mister nakajima, if i were to ask you to have a lunch date me today?"

mister nakajima's eyebrows shot up to his forehead, interested but also a little bit confused with your invitation. "well, if you don't mind having a date with an old man, i don't see why would i say no."

you barked a laugh. a little too loud that without your conscious, it traveled inside the bar when a customer opened the entrance door.

"and must i warn you that i can't walk faster than a snail."

mister nakajima smiled at you and allowed you to finished laughing at him before you said, "i know a place. and i have no doubt that you'll love it."

he old man said nothing more when you linked your arms with his. he let you guided the way, through the pedestrians walk.

just as you crossed a junction not far from the bar, you caught a familiar smell in the wind. the smell that makes your legs wobbly, thoughts mushed and butterflies in your belly.

when you turned your head over your shoulders, you saw bucky, with his full appearance watching you walking away with mister nakajima in your arms.

#bucky barnes #mister nakajima #catws #falcon and the winter soldier #leah #reader!you #bucky barnes x reader #alpha bucky #abo #omega reader #bucky x you

[mirror-ralsei]

MINI THEORY: Egg-veryman

Look, I'm not the first or only person to believe the man behind the tree might be Everyman. Just from a quick search, here's a theory and depiction preceding mine: 1 (huecycles), 2 (JJayBlaze123).

But as of the Spamton Sweepstakes, I do agree they're our most likely candidate. Here's a breakdown of all the evidence that personally led me to that conclusion.

Let's take a look at details we know about the egg man that might help us identify him:

The room's layout resembles mysteryman and “[redacted]”

He seems to exist in a cat state, just like the eggs he gives.

Noelle's story may imply, if the man is anything like his eggs, that the man is disturbing in some way.

There is graffiti clue of the egg tree in the same color as the ICE-E spraypaint in the alley. (Credit to VGFM for noticing this!)

He can be seen in a car.

While in the car, he is waving at us, and he “might be happy to see” us.

Spamton may know him.

He has never spoken out loud.

Comparing this to Everyman:

Everyman has not appeared in the overworld yet. (Unconfirmed)

We don't know enough about UTDR's cat states or Everyman to confirm or deny this point. (Unconfirmed)

Everyman is disturbing enough to have their first appearance be in the True Lab lmao (Likely)

Graffiti of Everyman is right next to the ICE-E graffiti. (Plausible)

We don't know if Everyman can drive lol (Unconfirmed)

We don't know if Everyman would wave to us or not, since we know little about them, but they are described as “Just a good guy who shows up on occasion,” and “might be happy to see you” seemingly would either be a reference to a cat state (as in “they might be happy, they might not be”), or referring to being uncertain if the egg man is happy (as in “they might be happy, but I could be wrong”) - the latter would make sense, as Everyman has never emoted with their face in any appearance so far, and would thus be difficult to read. (Plausible)

We don't know for sure if Spamton knows Everyman, but we do have this interesting line: “WE DON'T NEED ANY [Man, Woman or Child] [At Half-Price]!” While it's unclear what character, if any, “[At Half-Price!]” is referring to*, every other bracket in these “WE DON'T NEED...”s seems to indicate a character Spamton knows: [Easels] seems to be Swatch, [CRTs] seems related to an upcoming Chapter 3 character from the “cathode crew,” and obviously there's Mike. And I suspect that “[Man, Woman or Child]” may indicate “Everyman.” It includes the “man” part while throwing out a generic umbrella for a lot of people - "every." (Plausible)

Everyman has never spoken out loud. In fact, their silence is such a notable part of their character that their Queen battle cameo has them give a noticably blank dialogue bubble, in stark contrast with all the others. They visibly fall to their knees in agony when overtaken by butterflies, but cannot scream. Even their visual design has them noticably lacking a mouth. (Likely)

As you can see, many of these points range from plausible matches to confirmed ones. And the remaining points are left inconclusive, not deconfirmations.

There's also these additional clues:

The egg given to Noelle was titled ““SPECIAL”” in quotations and without a period. In the first documentation of Everyman's name, Fox replied “”Everyman”” exclusively in quotations and without a period.

Noelle notes that the egg “didn't seem to be doing anything" - in most of Everyman's appearances, they do not move, with the exceptions being after they are attacked and taken over by butterflies, and while they are propelled by a carousel (but still stationary themself).

Everyman is made of round shapes, which could concievably allow them to appear in Cat Petterz.

Subjectively, Everyman resembles a white, embryonic-looking bird, all of which relate to eggs. Spamton even mentions the white color of the egg man's eggs when saying “A WHITE ONE, THAT'S SURELY [another man's treasure].”

Subjectively, I think the Waltz of Seccom Masada, or whatever the egg room theme is called now, suits the Everyman character very well: starts in major key to indicate friendliness, but something is slightly, unnervingly off about it...strange, even. (ba dum tss) Everyman's visual design is similarly made up of round, friendly shapes, yet is very disturbing due to a variety of factors.

“Just a good guy who shows up on occasion” perfectly describes the egg man's appearances behind the trees.

Again, Everyman is also heavily tied to the term “man”: both with “Everyman” and “strangeman.”

Literally clones their head like an egg.

We know little about Everyman, but what we do know seems to line up with the man behind the tree.

*(If I could hazard a guess, I don't actually think [At Half-Price!] is referring to a character, but a property about [Man, Woman, or Child]. Specifically, I think Spamton means that the character has been "cut in half" in some way. Why do I think this? See my theory about division through reflection, a motif that seems to be cropping up a lot.)

#again i am not the only person to think this! this is just me aggregating all the evidence i found interesting #deltarune theory #utdr theory #everyman #originally this had a counterpoint about why i dont think it's gaster anymore #but the tl;dr is just 'is already depicted as a force outside of the game' and 'would not be shown waving at us from a car this early on' #both of which are pretty subjective and not really evidence based. so i dropped it

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

(Should have said this last time but thanks @lunarthecorvus for suggesting I use a song lyric as a title, great idea and I’m really happy with the one I’ve picked!)

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who out her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @ethereal-maia @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's implied sa references (not explicit or graphic), imprisonment, implied discussions of death (not explicit or graphic), implied child death (not explicit or graphic), ptsd, drugs (symptoms imply rohypnol or similar drug), trauma responses, violence, and abuse. I also want to be very clear this is from the perspective of a 12-year-old.

Chapter 7 - Aimee

Aimee had been at the Tulip Mill for 263 days. She counted them, one at a time, day after day. That was what the princess would do in a story, if she were held captive by a monster. Draw a tally mark every day until a knight came to rescue her. The Kerch didn’t much go in for princesses, but Aimee had been 12 when the monster took her and 12-year-olds don’t always give up on fairytales as quickly as people think.

Aimee thought that if a princess could save herself then she should, or she should at least try. Aimee had tried. A lot. Eventually, you have to tell yourself that it’s okay if you need to be rescued. That is not weakness, it is just a concession that your type of strength is not the right type to defeat the type of strength the monster has. So Aimee counted the days, and reminded herself that there is no shame in being rescued. Not so long as you tried.

On Day Four, Aimee climbed out her window and ran three blocks before they reached her. The monster wasn’t happy. She locked her in a pitch dark room for two nights, shackled to the wall. But that was okay, Aimee decided, it was just another obstacle. All good fairytales have obstacles. And Princess Aimee was clever; shackled may trap her body but no chains could hold her mind. But the metal wire she managed to rip from her sash bent unhappily in the lock, and the chains did not part. When Yen found the ruined silks, she added the price of them to her indenture - not that Aimee really knew what that meant. By Day Ten, Princess Aimee had devised a real plan.

She’d found a pretty silver ring someone had dropped on the floor and pocketed it - probably a wedding ring. She could use it to get into the monster’s office alone, find her contract, take it to the Stadwatch. They’d see it was nonsense, wouldn’t they? Maybe she could scratch her signature out, or rip it from the page.

“A man gave this to me,” she told Yen, lifting the ring almost above her own head for the woman to see it, “And he told me he’d give me more if I found things out about you, and told him,”

Yen had taken Aimee to her office and for a moment it really looked like the plan might work. But in a flash of a conversation and a hand across her face, Aimee was on the floor, choking on blood and then a rank, bitter taste. The drugs nearly killed her, that first time. The dose was too high, and it flooded her brain. Nearly an entire month of just fits and bursts in her memory, of fever and shivers and throwing up, of more things to bury, of cloudy eyes and weak limbs, of collapsing in the dark and wondering if she’d wake up again.

There’d been more plans and more punishments, and at some point Aimee had stopped thinking about saving herself and started thinking about being rescued. And still, she counted the days. Two hundred and sixty three of them.

But was this 264? She wasn’t my sure yet. Her head was pounding, all she could see were bright white spots clamouring over each other to consume her eyes. She was drugged again, too much. Was she fading? Someone’s hands were on her. Day 264. Close your eyes. Wait. Breathe. Count.

But the hands weren’t moving; one on her forehead, one on her back. They stayed still and steady, and the someone who owned them was whispering something. Aimee could feel her heartbeat rising, then slowing. She started to panic but suddenly her breaths were deepening and she didn’t think she’d done that herself.

“Aimee,”

The someone was saying her name.

“Aimee, can you open your eyes for me?”

They never used her name.

“You’re safe. You’re safe, but I need you to open your eyes again,”

Aimee felt herself groan as her eyelids flickered.

How would this work in the story? The monster had hurt the princess and she fainted, but now the knight had slain the monster and they were holding the princess in their arms. They were begging her to wake up. But would she? In the stories, yes. But would Princess Aimee?

Princess Aimee’s body was weaker than her mind. It was smaller and it hurt. It let her down. But it was still hers. Her mind was too strong to let its body be taken from her. They couldn’t do that. They couldn’t ever own her body more than her mind did. They couldn’t kill her body without her mind fighting back. Her mind could wake her up. It would. It would.

“Aimee, can you hear me?”

Aimee’s limbs were heavy. She was dizzy. Her lungs ached like something inside them was rattling. But she was alive. Her mind was stronger than her body. All she needed to do was stay alive. Just a little longer. Keep breathing.

She opened her eyes and her vision blurred and bled, white stars spinning. The stars were watching over her. Fate was written in the stars; Princess Aimee and her knight mapped across the sky.

“You’re doing so well, Aimee. Try to keep them open for me now,”

Aimee swayed and the hands moved to hold her shoulders. She shuddered. The world slowly sharpened into focus, a room she didn’t know. She was on the floor. The someone with their hands on her shoulders was a blonde woman with long plaits, smiling at her. Aimee blinked and shuddered again, she swayed and felt the stranger’s grip tighten.

“Well done Aimee,” whispered the blonde woman, “You can lean on me, that’s it,”

Aimee let her weight shift, more than anything because she could do little to stop it. She felt the woman’s fingers on her cheek as she brushed hair off her face.

“Did you…?” Aimee’s voice was hoarse and her throat was painful; she felt the words dying in her lips even as she tried again to speak them.

“Deep breaths,”

“It… hurts,”

“I know,” whispered the stranger, still stroking Aimee’s hair, “I know. But we’re going to fix it, together,”

This didn’t feel like being with a knight. This felt like lying in her mother’s lap, ready to hear a story. Her mother used to stroke her hair like that.

“Do you want some water?” asked the woman

“I want…” Aimee’s vision blurred again as her eyes began to brim with tears, “I want to go home,”

Aimee wanted to be on the farm, showing her brother some new exciting toy she’d made - floating boats made from sticks and string, paper frogs you could flick to make jump across the table, even a model carriage she’d whittled with working wheels that you could pull by walking your fingers along where the horse would go. She wanted to tell him bedtime stories with shadow puppets cast on their bedroom wall, or spin him around in the fields on her shoulders until they were both dizzy. That was a good kind of dizzy. This was not.

“Oh, I know,” whispered the stranger, hand on Aimee’s shoulder moving gently up and down, up and down, “I know. We can get you home, Aimee, we can. Captain Ghafa can,”

Captain Ghafa? That, Aimee thought as her vision blurred again and her thoughts swam with her parents, the fields, and a little wooden coffin, sounded like a knight.

#grishaverse #six of crows #leigh bardugo #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #kanej #kanej has my whole heart #kanej fic #six of crows fic #soc fic #fan fic writing #fan fic #Maya Olsen oc

[charmac]

Okay so, I got high for the first time in awhile and I'm thinking about Sunny just, It's weird that I always do, near obsessively, have since October of 2022. It's just like, my favourite thing to love and to think about, but I have been watching for a lot longer than that. I'm just gonna delve on my pipeline from casual fan of this show to stan, cos I think it's interesting and I'm high so nothing is stopping me:

For over three years I've been watching this show on repeat, whenever I didn't have a scheduled show to watch, I'd pop it on. But I just watched it casually, normally, like haha funny bad people show kind of way (I am sorry). All I did was watch it over and over, sometimes see a funny viral Sunny Tweet and like it, and then the Podcast came out.

And it weirdly made me more into the show, more introspective about the characters. So I would interact on r/IASIP but they just, didn't really get it properly.

And then S15 aired and Reddit really didn't get it and Charlie Kelly was just this massive presence in my mind, and I wrote a silly little kidfic about him because I was just thinking and thinking. And Reddit didn't get it.

So I I tried to come onto Tumblr, but everyone shipped Macdennis and I. Did Not. like Dennis. I saw him how your average r/IASIP commenter sees him. (So sorry.) I thought shipping Macdennis was fun in a, like, asking Mac to get completely used and fucked over kinda way (again, so sorry). Imagine my shock walking into Sunnyblr with that idea. Tumblr liked Dennis.

So I just kinda did the Episodes on repeat/Podcast/Subreddit kinda vibe for awhile. And then I met Meg and talked to her, and I stood two feet away from Rob and I know it's cringey, lmfao, but something shifted further. I was talking obsessively to my bestie @macdennissurvivor and Twitter started showing me Dennis edits. And then I made a silly little Macdennis edit of my own.

Then I went to the live show in Philly. And the audience was miserable and oh my god none of them get it. But there's so much to get . And Glenn, wow, weird, interesting guy. (And he weirdly kinda clarified that Dennis wasn't straight.) The show was fine but the audience was miserable because none of them get it. They throw out lines and references and it's all a joke. But it's not all a joke, there's so much to get. They're not getting it. Please someone else get it.

And so I dipped my toe back on Sunnyblr. And I got more involved with Sunny Twitter and Nat (legal last name Paddysroyco) Tumblr user @boysareouttonight's Dennis edits were like the final nail in the coffin of being a stan.

I think something shifts when you are able to look past Dennis' facade and actually see the person inside, the character they won't let you see unless you really get it.

And the obsession begins, and continues, and is good to me, keeps me happy and everything here just tickles my brain and makes me engage and talk. And like there's real, actually insanely intelligent discussion on here and meta and analysis and theories and then there's the most cracked out post you've ever seen and then there's something that's somehow both and it's just something else.

I'm at an all-you-can-eat buffet after reaching into the depths of my cupboards for a month straight. And we're getting more, and a lot, and whatever it is is more content. Every frame, every title, every crumb we find, there's other people here who get it all and make it fun, in a way that's not tiring or eye-rolling or completely off the mark, in a way that keeps me full-steam rolling ahead and coming back.

This devolved a little, as thoughts do, but I am happy to be here, I guess. I'm looking forward to this fucking season and whatever lies ahead: whether it's dry for Macdennis or overwhelmingly wet, whether we get solid character development or some weird backsliding, a mix of both, if there's strange retcons or really fucking-good ones, any unexplained moments or looks or props, or expressions, I'm experiencing it all with people who get it. Maybe in a completely unhinged way, maybe in a crazy smart way, or a reasonably sober way, but always from a place of getting it.

We're getting Season 16, it's real, more to the story, more to piece together and layout and pick and prod and compare and re-tell (and re-write if you really want). In, like, 18 days. Fuck me up.

#iasip #long post #sunnyblr #high thoughts #dennis reynolds #personal #oc

[nyacchiiatos]

my issue with littlest pet shop: a world of our own

hi! as you can see i have a bone to pick with this show, but i'm going to be criticizing the overall premise rather than individual episodes (i can't bring myself to watch any). nothing exactly provoked me to post this, it's just something i felt like ranting about because i always found it pretty strange and sort of like a slap in the face towards those who liked the 2012 series. very long post incoming 😭

first of all, the entire concept of AWOOO (im going to refer to it as that because the title is way too annoying to type out each time) in context of lps' brand as a whole doesn't make sense. hasbro refers to it (in a backhanded way to jab at 2012) as "a pet-only world made by pets, for pets." this premise alone is contradictory to the entire lps brand. it's called littlest pet shop, not littlest animal universe. the 2012 show made this work by having an actual pet shop with a daycamp area like you would expect irl. yes, the show had humans which i agree sometimes took over a bit too much, but it's meant to be a city-based slice of life cartoon. the main cast are actual pets, they have owners, they have their own homes, like any pet irl would. that's... why they're called pets. whatever AWOOO was trying to achieve just completely defeats the purpose of a pet shop existing. i have no doubt in my mind that hasbro felt so inclined to sweep 2012 under the rug by rushing this half-assed reboot out as fast as they could to satiate all the "bring back the old lps" commenters. there was literally nowhere online you could view content of the 2012 series in ANY site, without the comments being FLOODED with "bring back the old lps." it got to a point where fans were borderline harassing the hasbro employees, recording themselves calling them on the phone for views and clout, and encouraging others to do the same. and guess what? it worked. instead of continuing working on the show while easily selling toys that fans were more in favor of, hasbro thought it would be a better idea to just completely abandon 2012 as a whole and then proceed to act like it never even existed. there was no good reason for them to not continue producing the show (iirc it had pretty good ratings and was one of the most popular hub shows next to mlp ofc) while also selling toys that would cater to both newer and older fans (granted they probably can't sell multiple generations at a time, but still). so ultimately, they hurried this little reboot to get it out there as fast as they could and passively shit on 2012 while talking about its premise. seriously? "no humans getting in the way anymore! we have a WHOLE NEW lps cast with no big headed humans named blythe or her ugly friends! no more communication barriers, because thats no fun! isnt this show just SO much better than 2012?" they were so ready to just throw the 2012 series and everything related to it in the trash. AWOOO was not made out of love and respect. it was made as a way for hasbro to try and get their fans back by proving just how much better this reboot was in such non-discrete manners. they thought of the quickest and easiest way to regain their audience and ran with it, without ever thinking about how it completely diminishes what all the previous generations stood for.

i was one of the very few people who loved the 2012 lps series since it premiered. being a child on the internet in the early 2010s definitely brought down my happiness when watching the show because of the overwhelming negative feedback it was getting along with the rebrand in general (something im VERY nostalgic for). regardless, i continued to tune in whenever it was on tv and i saw myself growing up with the characters. to say that this show had potential is an understatement. the producers intended to make more seasons and you just knew they wanted to keep it going (this was confirmed btw). they weren't in a hurry to get something better out there, until the "bring back the old lps"ers finally got their way. but honestly? it's not completely unheard of for large companies to eventually cave in to the public opinion if it means they'll make more profit. they were desperate, and it was definitely showing.

one of the things i have the most issues with is how hasbro proceeds to COMPLETELY ignore everything regarding the show nowadays. as some of you know the show's 10th anniversary was last november, which i and many people had participated in a large art collab to celebrate and honor the show's legacy. want to know what hasbro did to celebrate? nothing. absolutely nothing. what's even worse is that michael kopsa, the voice of roger, had passed away very shortly before the shows 10th anniversary. and guess what? complete silence. that's just incredibly disrespectful to be completely honest. someone who brought his best work to your show and others on the same network (if im remembering correctly at least) and was such a joy to be around, and this is how you thank him? not a single piece of acknowledgement, all because you're too scared to ever talk about 2012 again because of the scary older fans that persuaded you to pull the plug on the whole thing? you weren't even willing to make one little post offering your condolences? oh because you just can't ever mention that show ever again, it'll spark those negative comments just like before. and you've made it abundantly clear that you care more about profiting off these people than having some kind of self awareness.

i apologize that this got so heavy, i've always wanted to properly write down my honest thoughts about this whole thing because ive been unhappy with it for years and years now. if you like AWOOO, i don't care. i wont give you a hard time for liking it, because the show itself isnt inherently bad. just what went on behind it is what bothers me so much. the fact that hasbro can completely ignore their own creation for what... 7 years now? is beyond my comprehension. they can keep pretending it never existed, but small groups of people online have been rediscovering this show and remembering how much they loved it when they were younger. you had a good thing going here hasbro, it sucks that you had to completely abandon it. but i think i can speak for a few people that this show has always and will always hold a special place in my heart and my childhood memories. even if we can't get more from it, we shouldn't forget to appreciate and cherish what we did get. and nobody can take that away.

#long post #veryyy long post #holy shit? #i did NOT mean for this to get so sentimental lol?? #lps 2012 is my special interest and you can see i am very passionate about it (it's the autism) #anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk #any lps 2012 likers out there reading this pls interact #we need to keep this community alive and thriving 🔥🔥🔥 #lps 2012 #littlest pet shop #littlest pet shop 2012 #littlest pet shop: a world of our own #lps: awooo

[tessenpai]

Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 130 Scans and Rough TL

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT use this translation to make your own TL of the chapter!! The KOT TL group works very hard to give you the most accurate translation, that does as much justice to the original script as possible. This is a ROUGH translation. That means is faulty and there must be mistakes in certain places. This is just for impatient people like myself to get a grasp on what is going on in the chapter! You can REFERENCE my TL if you want to discuss the chapter but never USE it as it was your own.

Scans:Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 130 – Rawkuma

Page 1

Side text: Embodying the sound, the pinnacle of aesthetics

Chapter title: #130 Saotome Miran

Page 2

Miran [thoughts]: It all started with a small distortion

Side text: The essence of Miran's problem is...

Girl 1: Woaah--- Your big sis is so cute, Miran-chan--!!

Girl 2: She looks like a real princess!!

Miran: Hehe...

Girl 1: But Miran-chan, you look nothing like her!

Girl 3: That's so weird...

Page 3

Miran's mom: Listen here, Miran!!

Miran's mom: Are you playing with mom's makeup again? How many times have I told you not to!?

Miran: I want this. Buy me.

Miran's mom: Children don't need it!

Miran: I want, I want!

Miran's mom: Don't throw a tantrum!!

Page 4

Miran's mom: Miki, you had all perfect scores again!?

Miran's mom: That's amazing!

Miran's mom: I haven't even seen you study all that much at home...

Miki: I just pay very close attention in class--

Page 5

Miran's mom: Miran!! Why did you tear up and throw your tests in the trash!? I didn't even come to show them to me!

Miran: ...Cuz they are trash.

Miran: There's no point in showing you something like that.

Miran's mom: ...

Page 6

Girl 1: Miran's big sis appeared in the newspaper ---

Girl 2: She won the Grand Prize in the Essay Contest. That's amazing!

Miran [thoughts]: Mine wasn't selected.

Girl 1: She also has the leading role in the school play.

Miran [thoughts]: I'm Citizen C.

Miki: Miran--!

Miki: Let's go home together--!

Miran [thoughts]: Big Sis is

Miran [thoughts]: As pretty as a princess

Miran [thoughts]: She's smart, very athletic, the best at anything she does, and very popular in class.

Page 7

Boy 1: Whaaa--- Is this really Miki's little sister?

Boy 2: This is incredible, you two look nothing alike. Are you even blood-related? This is hilarious---

Miki: What?

Miki: I came to pick up my precious little sister... And what is this?

Miki: I don't see what's so funny. Saying things like that is seriously lame.

Boy 1: Eh- Ah.

Boy 2: Sorry...

Miran [thoughts]: She is kind, strong, righteous and fair. She's cool.

Page 8

Miran's mom: Miki, congratulations on being a representative of your class on the relay race!

Miki: Thanks!

Miran's dad: And you are going to be the anchor? That's awesome--!

Miran's dad: I guess you are like me in terms of athleticism. Your mom is as uncoordinated as they come.

Miran's mom: Hey now!

Miki: What about your class, Miran? Who's going to be representative?

Miran: ...Don't know yet. We decide tomorrow...

Miki: You are also very fast, Miran. I'm sure you'll become a representative as well!

Miran: Last year you just were one step behind from becoming one, right?

Page 9

Miki: I would be super happy if we sisters were in the race together!!

Miran's Mom: That's right! That would be great!

Miran's Dad: Go get them, Miran!

Page 10

Teacher: Now will take place the competition to decide our representatives for the relay race.

Teacher: The six fastest students, please line up.

Miran [thoughts]: The first three will get to be representatives... Last year I was 4th.

Miran [thoughts]: I just need to place one spot higher...

Miki [memory]: I would be super happy if we sisters were in the race together!!

Teacher: Get in position--

Teacher: Ready--

Page 11

Sfx: Dash

Page 12

Miki [memory]: I would be super happy if we sisters were in the race together!!

Miran's Mom[memory]: That's right! That would be great!

Miran's Dad[memory]: Go get them, Miran!

Boy 1 [memory]: Whaaa--- Is this really Miki's little sister?

Boy 2 [memory]: This is incredible, you two look nothing alike. Are you even blood-related?

Miran [thoughts]: I just need to place

Miran [thoughts]: One spot higher

Page 13

Miran: Ah...?

Page 14

Miran: ------Eh...?

Page 15

Miran's mom: I deeply apologize!!!

Girl's mom: Enough of apologies. Fortunately, her injuries are minor.

Girl's mom: --However

Girl's mom: I believe it would be best if you thought carefully about the way you are educating Miran-chan.

Girl's mom: This kind of thing is not normal.

Miran's mom: ...Miran...

Miran's mom: Why, why did you do that!!??

Miran: ...

Miran's mom: Do you even realize what you did!?

Page 16

Miran's mom: You got a friend hurt... She was one bad fall away from getting very badly injured.

Miran's mom: What were you thinking!!

Miran: I... wa- wanted to be

Miran: A representative

Miran: In the relay race...

Miran's mom: ...It's our fault for saying that to you. That was our wrong. I'm sorry.

Miran's mom: ...However, Miran

Miran's mom: Hurting someone else to forcefully grab something you want, it's a very cowardly and disgusting thing to do.

Page 17

Miran's mom: Never do that gain.

Miran's mom: Never. Understood?

Miki [imagination]: Miran! Congrats on becoming representative!! I'm so happy we will be running together!!

Miran's mom [imagination]: That's amazing, Miran! You worked so hard!

Miran's dad [imagination]: We will all go to cheer on you in the competition!!

Page 18

Miran: I'm sorry...

Page 19

Student 1: Miran-chan is truly the worst.

Student 2: Right? So scary.

Student 3: Her face is also scary.

Student 1: Her face reflects her heart.

Student 2: True.

Student 3: And yet her sister is so cute and extrordinary.

Page 20

Student: I feel sorry for her sister---

Shoes: *Scum* *The worst*

Shoes: *Die* *Ugly* *Trash*

Page 21

Miran's mom: Miran, are you not going to eat?

Miki: Miran, let's go to school toge-

Paper: I'm the most digusting scummy trash.

Page 22

Miran [thoughts]: Then, one morning several months later.

Miran [thoughts]: I just couldn't get myself out of bed.

Miran [thoughts]: I haven't been to school for a month now… I have truly become a pile of trash...

Miran: ...

Miran [thoughts]: Right. You gotta take out the trash.

Miran [thoughts]: You can't leave it at home.

Page 23

Kifune-sensei: ---Oh my. Could that be Miran-chan!?

Kifune-sensei: It really is Miran-chan!

Kifune-sensei: It's dangerous to lean forward that much! Come on, get quickly back inside!

Miran: ---...

Page 24

Miran [thoughts]: Who...?

Miran's mom: It has been so long, Kifune-sensei. Sorry for calling you on such short notice.

Kifune-sensei: It was no problem, I was free anyways so I was happy to come.

Miran's mom: Miran, are you okay to be up now?

Miran: nods

Miran's mom: This man here is a friend of your grandpa. His name is Kifune-sensei, and he is a composer.

Miran's mom: Although you met him many times before, when your grandpa was alive.

Kifune-sensei: You probably don't remember, you were too young.

Kifune-sensei: But your eyes haven't changed at all, Miran-chan, so I recognized you immediately.

Kifune-sensei: You've gotten so big. How old are you now?

Miran: ...I'm 10.

Kifune-sensei: I see!

Page 25

Kifune-sensei: Miran-chan, are you interested in the koto?

Miran: ...? The koto..?

Miran's mom: Right, it's this. This instrument!

Miran's mom: This instrument is a "koto".

Miran's mom: The granny of a friend of mine just passed away, you see.

Miran's mom: She found this koto when she was orginizing her belongings.

Miran's mom: I thought it would be such a shame to let it go to waste, but I don't know anyone who can play the koto so...

Miran's mom: I called Kifune-sensei to ask him for a bit of advice.

Page 26

Kifune-sensei: I will be testing it out. Miran-chan, if you'd like, do you want to try and play it together?

Miran: Eh?

Miran's mom: Oh, then...

Kifune-sensei: Aah, sorry for taking such a liberty.

Kifune-sensei: I value fate very much. I wonder if it's fate that broght this koto to this house, and it brought me back to meet Miran-chan, who I haven't seen in such a long time.

Kifune-sensei: What do you think?

Miran: ----...

Page 27

Miran: nods...

Miran's mom: !

Kifune-sensei: Ooooh--- will you look at this! What an splendid dragon---

Miran's mom: Dragon?

Kifune-sensei: See, doesn't it look like a dragon? The koto?

Kifune-sensei: Each part, too. They are called "Dragon's tongue", "Dragon's horn", and so on. It's interesting, isn't it?

Page 28

Kifune-sensei: Now, what tone will you show me.

Kifune-sensei [sfx]: Pa--------n

Kifune-sensei: Oh! It resonates so well.

Miran [thoughts]: It sparkles...

Miran's mom: Mira-...

Page 29

Miran [sfx]: Pi---n...

Miran: ...

Miran [Sfx]: Pi----n Pi----n Pi----n

Kifune-sensei: He

Page 30

Kifune-sensei: Miran-chan's sound is

Kifune-sensei: It's such beautiful and delicate sound.

Page 31

Kifune-sensei: It's a sound that I like a lot.

Page 32

Miran: U- Wah. Aaa--

Miran's mom: Miran-?

Kifune-sensei: Oh, oh my!? Wha- what happened!? I was praising you just now, though!?

Miran: Waaah aaaah. Waaahh. hic.

Miran: Waaaaaaaaaaah. Waaaaaaaaaaaaah. Waaaaaaaaaaaa.

Page 33

Miki: What!? You're going to start playing the koto, Miran!?

Miran's dad: And under the tutelage of Kifune-sensei!?

Miran's mom: Yeah. Miran's condition has improved a lot, so she can begin any time now.

Miran's mom: We also decided to keep that koto at home so Miran can play it.

Miki: That's so nice, Miran!! I'm so happy!!

Miran: !

Miki: I hope you get well soon now!!

Page 34

Miran[thoughts]: Ever since then, I went frequently to Kifune-sensei's house to practice.

Miran[thoughts]: Playing the koto was complicated but, so fun. So fun.

Miran[thoughts]: So much fun.

Miran[thoughts]: It I had any time, I played it.

Page 36

Miran[thoughts]: It's fine if I'm not cute. Even If I'm stupid, or trash. Even if I have no place at school.

Miran[thoughts]: The moment I remembered I had the koto, I became strong.

Miran[thoughts]: So

Miran[thoughts]: I said farewell to the past me.

Miran[thoughts]: Or so I thought

Page 36

Miran[thoughts]: Until I reached High School, and met him.

Side text: Luka's curse weighs on Miran---...

---Kono Oto Tomare! continues in the next issue---

#kono oto tomare #kono oto tomare! #kot #sounds of life #kot! #rough tl #spoilers #kono oto tomare 130 #kono oto tomare! 130 #kot 130 #kot! 130

[greypetrel]

HI ARJA I’m so curious about your moby dick AU lol you always have the best AUs

HI ROWAN I'm glad you asked! :D It's gonna be a big ass rant, so it's under the cut. I'm very excited about this AU, it tackles some things I love and have first-hand experience of, so yeah, I'll be chatty about it ahahahah.

I've posted a chapter at random on AO3 and you can find some snippets in the whale au tag!

So, it's "Zoologist Aisling who thinks whales are the best thing after sliced bread saves Cullen, who happens to have survived a shipwreck caused by a whale". Shenanigans happen.

It was an idea of @shivunin (thank you again) and I'm currently trying to give it a little outline not to go totally at random. I am thinking about characters background, it's a non-magical AU and so stuff needs to be adapted. The title of the WIP is old, I realised after that... You know, it's a Moby Dick INSPIRED thing. The first idea was having Aisling as Melville and Cullen as Ishmael teaming up to write Moby Dick. Cullen has the sailing parts, Aisling filling in with conspiracy theories about whalers and spite over naturalists. And both of them inserting a gay relationship because I'm still a big part of the Bi!Cullen agenda, and that book is terribly gay.

I did realise later on that there's a limit to the horrors I'm willing to put characters through and write, and cannibalism is really NOT one. I also moved it to another period and to the 1900s because I already did research for another original project and I'm more familiar with it.

The title of the file will change when I'll have a better one for this AU.

For now I do have a background for Aisling, what she's in Nantucket to do, and I'm so happy to say @melisusthewee jumped on the bandwagon aboard with Quinn and Horatio, but I'm letting her introduce you to them in this. I'll just say that Aisling refers to Quinn as "Mr Arch-Nemesis".

She's in Nantucket for a research over sperm whales behaviour, restore her family's name (dad was a scholar too, but alas, he was caught being a member of the Fenian society and giving money to the Irish revolutionaries... She's the Royal Society's favourite person, yes) and hopefully put a brake on whale hunting (the 1900s saw the peak of killed whales, you can bet miss "I'd adopt a dragon if Bull didn't constantly prevent me to try and befriend one" won't be ok with it). Dorian and Josephine -whom I couldn't fathom being there with her, seriously I can't picture Dorian on a ship if not in first class, unless he was beaten unconscious before boarding and dragged on. Josie finances ships, sure... but being on board of one and working? A whole different thing. So, they're Aisling friends, but they stayed in London to get her fundings.

Cullen needs to find reason to get to the sea again, he was a harpooner and worked on ships all his life... After being the sole survivor, he needs to find his centre back and get on with it. The crazy whale fangirl may or may not help him on this.

And there was only one bed, of course. (have I already said that Moby Dick is VERY gay?) (I had a blast reading it, thank you so much @salsedinepicta for making me curious about it! <3 Also if you want to throw your characters in this GO ON.)

I thiiiink I may change names and design and also do something fully original. I'm particularly enthusiastic about it because it allows me to tackle stuff I experienced in my life (I did some sailing! Very little and purely recreational, but still) and to re-use some research I already did for another original project which I love dearly, but it's definitely more than I can chew on my own. If I don't chicken out because the place is linked to some trauma, I maaaaay add a part in the seaside town I spent a lot of time growing up.

But again, let's see how it goes, researching on Italy isn't the easiest thing ever if you're not aiming at Rome or the Renaissance, and we're talking about a pretty regional side of Italy. I have good hopes because the people are very very very much into their own history and claiming it back, so I may find some good infos without spitting too much blood.

it's a work in progress, but there's gonna be more about this!

#whale au #petrel replies #dragon age inquisition #dragon age AU

[theycallmebecca]

18+ Drabble: Nighttime Reading

Here is my first drabble for my Kinktober bingo card for @the-horniest-book-club I definitely could have made this one steamier than it turned out... but my writing skills are feeling a bit rusty and it's been a rough few days... so it is what it is. I'm happy with how it came out.

For this drabble I used the prompt "beard burn/kink" from my bingo card, which you can see here.

Title: Nighttime Reading

Pairing: Andy Barber x female reader

Rating: Borderline R

Warnings: very suggestive

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

18+ Disclaimer: This work contains sexual material that is for those over the age of 18. By clicking the keep reading link below, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and are not offended by sexual content.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context. 

As the protagonist in the book you're reading screams out her lover's name, you raise your eyes up over the top of your book to look at your own lover.

Andy sits across the room, engrossed in his own book, while absentmindedly stroking his thick beard.

You chew on your lower lip as you watch him drag his thumb down the side of his face as he reads.

You're certain he doesn't even know he is doing it, but it reminds you of the scene you just finished reading where the protagonist and her sexy, bearded lover have passionate, very descriptive sex in their living room during a storm.

Glancing down at your book, you read one particular part again, before you toss the book aside and stand up.

Andy glances up from his book and raises an eyebrow. "Are you going to bed already?" he asks.

"I need your help," you tell him.

He nods his head and says, "Of course. What do you need?"

"Take off your pants."

Your words catch him off guard, but you silence any questions he might have when you take off your shirt, throwing it onto the ground as you make your way to him.

"Oh, that kind of help," he says as he sets his own book aside, taking more care with his than you did yours. Then he lifts his hips so he can pull down his pants.

Climbing into his lap, you face him and proceed to explain every second of the scene you just read to him without leaving out a single detail.

By the time you finish recapping it, you're more hot and bothered than you were before and so is Andy. His eyes are filled with desire and his manhood is hard, waiting for your attention.

#HBC Kinktober 2022 #theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #Andy Barber #Andy Barber fanfiction #Andy Barber fanfic #Andy Barber fan fiction #Andy Barber x you #Andy Barber x female reader #Andy Barber x y/n #chris evans #becca writes 18+ drabbles