#so sorry to do a bit of a source: trust me on some of this
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The door faces North
This has been, by far, one of the most complex investigations I have ever done in this fandom, and I am truly sorry for the long wait I had to inflict on many of you & for the uncharacteristic radio silence in DMs and comments. During this peculiar journey, I checked, double-checked and cross-checked as many details as I could and I carefully considered at least two different theories, of which I still think they do not exclude each other. I am now confident enough to make not only an educated guess, but also a daring bet on SRH's next whisky move.
Also, sorry for the length of this post. Truly sorry - think of the completely pulverized night sleep I had to give up, in order to bring this to you.
But first, a word on Marple's obvious PR tip on the Hopetoun Estate refurbishment and distillery old/new project. I am fair game enough to tell you the obvious: her overall recounting of the principals is roughly correct, spare perhaps one or two minor details. Correct, but dry - she limits herself to the technical documentation submitted by Golden Decanters and The Hopetoun Estates Trust to the West Lothian Council for approval. She correctly points out that S is not a visible part of the deal, at this point in time and she does a decent summing up of a very, very, VERY plethoric amount of bureaucratic information. She concludes, and I think she is partially right, that he might be interested in becoming an investor (I am taking things a bit further, though). But in doing so, she focuses on the development phase of the project only: the possible connections with SRH and his own spirits business are less, if at all, obvious.
I am going to give you my view of all this charade and, if I am going to mention (and probably repeat) some things already found by her, I am going to focus on the people: this is where the whole story starts to become remarkably interesting, at least to me. After all, I remember promising you some more clarity. Here's an honest, fair play take.
Little did I know, when I started to write about that (now defunct) company, Midhope Castle Distillery, Ltd (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/748597198794670080/the-info-provided-above-is-correct-but-outdated?source=share), that my investigation would turn to this:
... for it was to be just an almost random layer of a juggernaut matryoshka of defunct or still active companies, featuring roughly the same people and no less than 6 different name combinations centered around Midhope, Hopetoun, etc.
The following pics will give you an idea - feel free to open them in a separate tab, for clarity . I preferred this synthetic approach, because otherwise you will curse the shite out of me. But it had to be done, with or without Depon, Advil's Greek cousin (and before you ask a graphologist, this is my handwriting, and nobody else's 🙃):
The only explanation for the whole almost frantic Midhope/Hopetoun crisscross/hopscotch (LOL) combos I can think of is two people trying to secure one (several?) credit lines or to attract significant investors for their project and ultimately failing to do so. But I might be wrong (although I doubt that, thank you). Out of this entire maze ( I swear I now have a migraine), there are only two active companies remaining: Golden Decanters Ltd (renamed GD Spirits Ltd, in April 2022) and Midhope Ltd (renamed Skosk Ltd, in July 2023). It is on them I am going to focus my gaze.
GD Spirits Ltd was incorporated in Berwick-upon-Tweed, England (just across the Scottish border), probably for tax reasons, on March 11, 2015, the nature of its business being listed as 'wholesale of wine, beer, spirits, etc.'. It started with a team of two women: Julia Mackenzie-Gillanders and Ann Medlock, whose names we are going to see over and over again in all the eight corporate avatars. Later down the timeline (LOL for three decades and a half), on January 30, 2018, they were briefly (until July 19, 2018) joined by two very interesting professionals: Mrs. Margaret Boswell, an attorney at the very prestigious international law firm Gide Loyrette Nouel (Paris and London offices)...
...and Ken Robertson, former Corporate Affairs Director at Diageo Whisky, a subsidiary of the international Diageo group, one of the major players on the world spirits' market:
The second company, Skosk Ltd, was incorporated in August 2021, in Perth, Scotland, its nature of business being listed as 'distilling, rectifying and blending of spirits', with the clear intention to align with the exacting criteria prescribed by the 2009 Scotch Whisky Regulations:
[ Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scotch_whisky - sorry, I don't have time to wax lyrical on this, and neither do you]
This time, we only meet again the two distillerettes, Gillanders and Medwick. Up until now, at least, nobody else (attorney, former sales executive, whisky expert) has joined the platoon - TBC? I would not speculate and leave all options open.
There is little to 0 transparency on Skosk's financial situation, at the moment and to be honest, it looks very much like S's co-star (hehe)'s Irish business venture...
... but I was a bit more lucky, and the numbers more chatty, as far as GD Spirits was concerned:
Paging all shipper chartered accountants out there, but to me, it doesn't look great, at the moment. Cash is ridiculous, the net worth is hemorrhaging and the current assets are negligible, compared to 2020, when I think they managed to secure one or two credit lines, but not nearly enough for what they needed. Just enough to pay themselves and their external consultants and cover the operating costs, if you ask me.
The revised Planning Statement, of 8 February 2024, posted first by Marple, echoes my initial guess (COVID blew it up, see link to the first post) and the above assessment:
Mark this: 'Discussions are now proceeding with investors and there is a realistic prospect that work will begin in the near future (2024/2025) to implement the permission.' Given that they will start with the road and parking rehabilitation and upgrading, probably overlapping with the distillery building, it would make sense to begin this autumn at the earliest, with the most urgent: access to the site itself.
The initial Planning Statement, dated 9 July 2020 and re-posted on March 21st, 2024, tells a more detailed story. This is part and parcel of the current project as well, since the revision is just pointing out the changes operated, not the entire rest, which remains unchanged. You be the judge:
Also keep in mind this tiny, tiny thing: the Business Plan is 'submitted (...) under Private and Confidential Cover'. See where I am looking?
The initial plan was (and still is) for GD Spirits to produce their own booze, using Midhope's own barley (this is very important for the rest of my theory!). They even offer an overview of the real impact of their project on the local economy:
20 to 38 initial new job creations for a £ 15 to 30 million investment is not 'huge', madam Marple. Cumbernauld is huge. This? This is rather modest, if you ask me. But hey, what do I know about the labor market, right?
That initial Statement tells also the story they want to tell about the genesis of their idea, the scouting for the right location and a couple of other interesting details:
So they are telling us they started to look for the perfect location in 2018 and oh, hello, they found the Hopetoun Estate rather quickly, already starting the pre-planning application consultations as early as July 2019 (don't get me started, please):
If so, then why did they incorporate not one, but two different companies clearly linking them to the Estate (Hopetoun Estate Distillery Ltd and Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd) the same day and as early as May 23rd 2017 (and both dissolved in December 2022), as my above penciled timeline (LOOOOOL) shows? Who is really behind this project and why this entire ballet? It's like me pre-emptively looking for rental properties in (let's randomly guess) Lisbon, when it's just wishful thinking, heavily projecting and with 0 guarantees I will be posted there, right? I mean, I adore and deeply know Lisbon and I would be thrilled to go there. But I am not currently looking for any rental property, just like that, because that would be a #silly, rookie mistake. In their case, I think there's a different situation - again, you be the judge.
A first answer, as to who is really behind that project, was given by the UK media, back in 2020:
How odd, when we know that both Mrs. Boswell, the well-traveled attorney and Mr. Robertson resigned from GD Spirits in July 2018. Do they still say hi to the two distillerettes? Do they quietly keep an eye on the project? Are they silent partners? Business angels? Shareholders? Time to remind you that under UK law, there is 0 visibility on the shareholder's structure of a company. You just see the officers (Director, Secretary, etc), on the Company House website. On an umpteenth, last- second cross-check, it became apparent that Mr. Robertson remained involved in another company of the distillerettes, Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd (yes, the one mentioned above), until its voluntary strike-off, in December 2022.
Their best laid plans do mention OL, and how could it be otherwise? But all this £ 15 to 30 million hullaballoo for 20.000 people only (who counted them and how?), on a seasonal basis?
High-end restaurant, luxury B&B, event spaces, you name it. Interesting, to say the least.
And, for the people in the back, who still think SRH has a 100 years lease at Midhope (Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the stupidity!):
This is why he commented as a 'member of the public'. At face value, there is no public involvement into that project. Yet. But it is my belief there is a vested interest in all this, justifying the comment, the visit, those papers rolled in his fist, etc. At first, I thought that was a visit to Lallybroch by the Exec Producer of OL's Season 8, to discuss technicalities - and shared that privately with a wonderful friend only. I mean, why not and still perfectly possible. But then, as I could not sleep tonight and felt guilty to have you all waiting, I started to connect some tiny dots.
Like this one, for a start:
Yes, I know, Marple told you that FIRST, I would not dare say otherwise, because if I did there would be a transcontinental screech. That trademark application was filed at the US Patent and Trade Office in September 2023 and I thought (and still partially do) it was a potential rebranding solution to The Sassenach's EUIPO nightmare (much exaggerated by the fandom's toothbrush experts):
But you also know I am an idiot and I always check people's CVs, when I follow a thread. This morning, the one Distillerette I am particularly interested in is Mrs. Julia Hall-Mackenzie-Gillanders (née Scales) and not like *urv would be.
Her LinkedIn profile is exceptionally talkative, too:
... and a BA (with Honors) in Fashion Design, class of 2005, at the Northumbria University.
The Financial Times article 'From packing boxes to wine deals worth millions', you can read on her LinkedIn page, tells a very interesting story. It is the story of a shy underdog (lots of temple bells clinging, at the moment), who made it by sheer persistence. It starts like this:
'When a painfully shy young woman contacted a fine wine merchant and said ' I have no qualifications- can I help?', she got the job and today is signing deals worth millions of pounds.'
It obviously did ring a bell and if SRH knows she exists (she is married, *urv!), and I dare to speculate he does, it must have struck a deep chord. Would I do business with her? I wouldn't speculate, although I am not very sure. Would he? He'd probably listen very carefully to what she has to pitch, for a start.
And what she has to pitch is also very interesting, in his world. A brief look at the Golden Decanters' website shows a first high-end single malt sourced collection of 4 exceptional expressions already sold out:
And when they mean high-end, they mean gold leaf labelling and all the tralala:
And, some last minute news, too:
Remind me, because I am an old woman, after this white night: wasn't The Sassenach (no comment, we agree to disagree and I am very skeptical), a blend?
We have these dots, then:
Bold Underdog ->spirits business->high-end collection of single malts sold out->business partnership with owners of Midhope Castle, fictional Lallybroch in OL, including a distillery and whisky production with Midhope/Lallybroch barley -> visit by the male lead and spirits entrepreneur (also the fictional Lallybroch laird) to Midhope/Lallybroch and vested interest in the estate's most recent business project....
What if The Sassenach would be included, for a start, in that new Blended Collection? And could it really be fanfic to imagine a future high-end, limited edition, Lallybroch whisky produced at Midhope, with Midhope/Lallybroch barley? It wouldn't be the first time, would it: after all, they did it with that limited tequila batch.
As I said, because I am (remember Someone? LOL) a 'silly cow', I was hoping he wouldn't do it. But my guess is he might very well do exactly that, with those people and under that label.
It's half past eight AM, local time and I need a strong, black coffee.
I rest my case (and I am bracing myself for the screeching). I will answer Anons later, after I come back from the hairdresser's. Appointments must be kept at all costs. Thank you all for your patience.
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i took some of my friends/guildies on a run through 'story mode' (listening to all the dialogue) of shattered observatory recently and some of them learned new stuff despite running fractals often, which made me realize a bit there's actually a decent amount of fractals lore that people might not know or have picked up on, especially if you ran through the fractals pretty fast?? imo it's genuinely one of the most fascinating and well-written areas of the game
so, here, some of my favorite fractal/dessa/arkk lore tidbits (and why i Really Love Fractals):
1. arkk and potentially dessa are implied to be ex-inquest-- in the nightmare fractals, arkk mistakes the players for inquest debt collectors, and in his chaos fractal journal entries mentions his 'witless subordinates', so the implication feels to be that his mists research was inquest funded before he ghosted them. in thaumanova, dessa mentions two of the inquest npcs as having been krewemates of hers-- in ls1 she refers to them as being from her 'old krewe', and still describes them as friends (she also refers to them as 'good technicians', like yknow, the inquest rank). also, it may be for aesthetics, but tiles with the inquest logo are used throughout fractals (and in mistlock sanctuary)
2. simon, the cat obtainable from fractals, is implied to have been arkk's cat as per the headstone next to it (does this make arkk's cat golems make sense? maybe! they're also a cheeky reference to the other cat golems throughout fractals)
3. there was a little incident back in ls1 that revealed the fractals lobby is, itself, a fractal, and it and all the creatures in it loop continuously just like the regular fractals. shattered observatory is also vaguely foreshadowed in it, in a sad way :")
3a. similarly, by the way, the mistlock sanctuary is a fractal too-- ever talked to the npcs in there? go speak to ilia-- and the bartender
4. dessa hates the consortium, supposedly 'lost' her boyfriend (potentially arkk's father?) to them, and is not aware that the consortium are the ones who started promoting the fractals to tyria as an 'attraction'
5. dessa is, in some way, connected to the asura boss at the end of uncategorized fractal-- a small fact we only know from the dreamer collection, combined with dessa freaking out and having to leave when the fractal begins. we don't know their relation
6. dessa seems somewhat aware that she is non-existent/a mists magic construct bound to the timeloops. in a now-lost lore interview from wartower, she is described as being afraid to leave mistlock observatory in case she can't return to it. at the end of shattered observatory, she is much quicker to have the revelation than arkk is-- to the point where you could read it as her having known the whole time
7. and now, my favorite, which is more of a headcanon with a solid lore basis that i tend to go full pepe silvia about-- there's two types of fractal we see: ones that are sort of 'possible' or somewhat alien alternate realities, and then ones that are repeating loops of events that actually happened.
chaos, nightmare, and shattered observatory are all evidently loops of events that actually happened. arkk very much does smash into the fractals, you very much do stop him, dessa and arkk very much do effectively sacrifice themselves to stop the fractals from becoming destroyed, and then the loop repeats-- as they explicitly state it will
here's the thing... during the dialogue at the end of shattered, dessa states that arkk did successfully account for all variables except for the reality that they themselves aren't sentient and are just echoes bound to the fractal loop. thus that arkk's DDR would have successfully worked to extract them from the fractals if they were real, corporeal entities.
but since the shattered observatory is an echo of an event that happened, then just like all the other 'echo' fractals, then there needed to have been actual people acting upon the mists to create the event that's echoed in the first place. that is, it didn't just pop into existence of its' own accord. and while we encounter the fractal looped versions of arkk and dessa, they definitely were real people outside in tyria at some point in time
so... in the original version of the fractal... what actually happened? did a real, corporeal arkk meet a real, corporeal dessa? if so, did his DDR work? did they actually escape the mists, and then the loop in the fractal only ended up like it did because the copies couldn't follow in the originals' footsteps? or was arkk real, only to find that dessa wasn't? if the arkk and dessa we meet are only impressions or echoes of the real things, then where on tyria are the real arkk and dessa?
we don't know!! we simply don't know! we also know very little about the consortium, their connections to the inquest, or the uncategorized fractal! there is SO MUCH lore they could expand upon in future fractals and i really really hope they do ;_;
#gw2#guild wars 2#gw2 lore#obvs theres fractal spoilers in here#truly wish it was easier to source a lot of this stuff but half the time the wiki doesnt have it or the link is dead#so sorry to do a bit of a source: trust me on some of this#btw reasonable logical jump--#the reason revenant legends are what they are is your legends are basically Fractal Loop versions of themselves#theyre an impression of a specific moment in time of that hero#instead of the mistlock observatory stabilizing them its the revenant doing it#thx#my stuff#feel free to add your own fave fractals things btw
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I know I posted about Goncharov and Defunctland last night, but that was an earnest desire to see this trend examined under a microscope because it’s fascinating to see it escape containment.
However, while I know most folks are just having a bit of fun with it, the number of people complaining that others are “ruining” the joke by tagging it for unreality is too damn high.
I’ve answered far too many asks in private in the last 24 hours from folks with psychosis begging me to tell them if Goncharov is real or not because they trust me, someone they don’t know beyond my medical advocacy posts, not to lie to them.
So in case you need this: No, Goncharov is not real. It’s Tumblr having a bit of fun with a made up gangster story premise from the 1970s. Most of the gifsets you are seeing are from The Godfather and some other 70s and early 80s films. The musical scores are being composed by some very talented people here on Tumblr, as is most of the art and quotes.
I’m sorry if people are telling you it is real and are refusing to reassure you when you admit it’s causing you distress. Some people are just taking things too far for the bit and aren’t acting with kindness. I hope they will reconsider.
If you were unaware that the Goncharov is causing some people some considerable distress, that’s okay. Tumblr is huge and you can’t be expected to know everything, but please do tag all your posts and reblogs with unreality to assure people that it’s part of the site-wide joke.
If you’re one of the people complaining that tagging it with unreality “ruins” the joke, please reconsider and examine why your enjoyment of people’s distress is necessary to your enjoyment of an otherwise fun and crowd sourced bit that many people are having fun with without being cruel.
Anyway, go have fun you creative little gremlins. Just do it with more kindness.
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fairy of shampoo [or, holding hands w riize]
pairing : ot7 x reader! genre : fluffiest fluff 2 ever fluff cw/tw : none! (some arent really hand holding im sorry guys ://) wc : 0.6k
seunghan : he's a simple guy but he's also a hopeless romantic; big sucker for interlinked fingers and all the symbolism that comes w it <3 his grip would be so, so gentle though.. unless on rare occasions you happen to trigger his slightly possessive streak where his fingers would unintentionally tighten around yours.. wouldn't hesitate to show off him holding your hands to the source of the jealousy~
wonbin : hand holding patterns would definitely differ but mostly he'd stick to the simplest kind : your hand over his (or visa versa if he's feeling particularly babygirl/wants to be comforted by you).. he's the kinda guy who'd gently stroke your knuckles with his thumb all the time but the second you do it to him he ends up so flustered.. (side note he probably swings your hands tgt when you're out on a walk or something ;-;)
sohee : i saw this one twt post where they said that he seemed to not be that used to physical touch and was slowly getting used to it with his members ... so i feel like he'd maybe be a bit hesitant, shy to initiate proper hand holding straightaway; but would still want to feel connected to you .. hence, interlocked pinkies <3 also whenever he can he'd raise your hands to his lips and place a lil kiss right on the tip of your finger,,
anton : hear me out - he gets kinda hyper excited when you're around him and because of both of you being busy with your respective works you don't really get a lot of time together.. but there's so much he wants to show you, to experience with you.. this is what leads him to grab ahold your wrist and almost feverishly drag you places + it gives him leverage to be able to casually bite your arm (it's his love language) once a while ._.
shotaro : prefers to keep his arm around your shoulder whenever he can rather than holding hands which is adorable but guys... he's a head bonker trust me..... likes to bump your heads together (like a littol bunny ;-;) when he has his arm around you. also it makes him feel overall really fuzzy and warm inside to think he's kinda "protecting you" and keeping your pretty head comfy as well,, adores the fact that this position more often than not ends with you having an arm around his waist >///<
sungchan : he's an all or nothing guy and if it's you he physically can't go nothing; therefore he must have one of your hands in his while your other rests on his arm. yes he knows that means your hands won't be free to carry/hold on to anything else but hey what else is he here for?? steals whatever your holding and holds out his hand to you like oh you want to hold something too? here, hold this for me please ^^. yeah i know it's my hand and what about it D: ?
eunseok : he's different he's not like other guys huge fan of wrapping a hand around your waist because he's generally not a huge fan of a lot of pda but this provides him a secure position right at the edge of casual affection, intimacy and can we go to the other room and makeout :/ please :/ this probably started out as just teasing you but he actually likes how he's kinda subtly making it known that you're each others' <3 oh and loves that he can tickle you whenever he wants :p
notes : haha. mai. mai hey if u see this im begging u to take away my motivation rn please the history textbook is calling out to me please </3 /lh... + the coloured text realllyy isnt visible on light screens huh. fml + [m.list]
#order's up~! 📋⋆𐙚#cookies.♡︎🍪#div by v6que!!!#riize#riize scenario#riize imagines#riize shotaro#riize eunseok#riize sungchan#riize wonbin#riize seunghan#riize sohee#riize anton#riize x reader#kpop imagines#riize drabbles#riize fluff#kpop scenarios#kpop#kpop x reader#sungchan#wonbin#eunseok#seunghan#osaki shotaro#park wonbin#anton#anton lee#song eunseok#sohee x reader
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cold nights // part two
summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.1k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.
a/n: ahhh welcome sejanus i love him dearly
series masterlist // playlist
It was only a few hours of making small talk with Capitol strangers before you caught a glimpse of the red uniform your new friend was wearing just this morning. For a moment, you did think it was him, that he was back, but the dark curly hair and eyes of another boy was what greeted you instead. He must be another mentor.
You watch as he walks up to the edge of the cage with a few bags, placing them down and opening one as he scans the group of you trapped in the cage. "Marcus!" He calls out, and your gaze falls on the District Two tribute. "I brought you something to eat, it's me, Sejanus. Do you remember?"
You furrow your brow at his desperate attempts to speak to Marcus. How could they have known each other? As far as you know, they had never met. You approach the boy slowly. He seems to have a good heart, to bring food for someone who you know he is meant to believe is less than.
"I can bring it to him, if you'd like." You offer quietly, holding out a hand from a little ways away. "We're all very tired. I'm sure he's still just recovering from the ride."
"That would be great." The boy, Sejanus, agrees, handing you the sandwich. "Thank you, Y/N."
"My pleasure." You smile, taking it and heading over to where Marcus is sitting on a rock, facing the opposite direction.
"Marcus?" You hum, crouching down in front of him.
"I'm not taking anything from him." He grumbles, hardly meeting your eye.
"Oh." You look back at Sejanus, who's watching you hopefully. "Do you know each other?"
"Not anymore."
"I see." You nod, thinking over how you could get him to eat. "Well, take it from me, then. I'll just take his kind gesture for myself, but I'll share it with you. Now," You rip the already cut sandwich in half. "It's from me. And I know you're hungry, so please. Have some of mine."
He looks down at the sandwich in your hand and sighs, taking it begrudgingly. "Thanks, Y/N."
"Anytime." You smile, gently patting him on the knee as you stand back up, giving Sejanus a grin and a small thumbs up.
He gestures for you to come back over to him, so you do, half the sandwich still in hand. "Thank you for doing that." He says once you're close enough to hear at a normal volume.
"Yes, of course. I'll give him the rest in a bit, I feel like he won't take it while you're still here." You smile sadly at him.
"No, I insist. You have it. I brought plenty of food for all of you."
"Oh, really?" You smile, looking down at the bags at his feet now. "That's so kind of you."
"I couldn't let you starve in here." He replies. "It's barbaric, and sick, and I am so, so sorry."
His emotional response catches you off guard. "Oh... Well, thank you. But know it was not your doing."
"I know it's not... but I wish there was more I could do."
"You're doing all you can, more than anyone expected of you." You reassure him. "Don't feel guilty."
Sejanus just nods, reaching for a bag and holding it open between the bars. "Would you mind..? I don't think they will trust me." He asks and you nod, turning to see who you could call to come eat. If one person comes, more will follow.
"Jessup." You smile hopefully at the boy from your District, waving him over. "Sejanus here has brought food to share, come eat."
"I'm not hungry." He mumbles as he gets closer to you, looking down into the bag anyway as you reach your hand in to grab him a sandwich.
"Please eat." You sigh. "If we eat the others will too. I don't want anyone hungry."
"We'll all be hungry." Jessup replies, taking the sandwich from your hand anyway. "It won't matter next week."
"Okay, well, for now, we're just living in the moment and enjoying this lovely food our new friend brought for us."
"My Ma made it all." He explains, and you tilt your head at him. There was something so distinctly District about how he referred to his mother, but was he not Capitol? After all, he was a mentor. He was wearing a matching red uniform.
"Will you tell her thank you for us?" You ask, taking the first bite out of the sandwich in your hand. "This is really good. We haven't eaten in days."
"She'll be happy to hear that. Yes, of course, I'll pass that on."
By the time any other tributes who wanted to eat had been fed, you were sitting down across the bars from Sejanus, chewing on your second helping shamelessly leaning over criss-crossed legs. "Do you know Coriolanus Snow?" You asked, covering your mouth as you spoke.
"Coryo?" Sejanus smiles. " I do. He's my best friend."
"Is he?" You smile, leaning forward. "He's my mentor. He seems kind."
Sejanus shrugs. "I would say he is, most of the time."
"And you call him Coryo?" You ask, head tilted at him. "Is that what his friends call him?"
"I guess so. Not everyone... Just his friends, yeah." Sejanus explains, neglecting to mention that by this definition, he and Coriolanus's cousin Tigris are his only real friends.
"I see. That's nice." You hum, looking down at the food in your hands. "How long have you been friends?"
"Since I moved here from Two." Oh, that makes sense. He and Marcus did know each other. "He was the only one who was nice to me, still is, honestly, but yeah, about ten years now."
"I have a similar story about him." You joke. "Of course, I've only known him for a few hours. And I guess now I have two friends here, if I can count you."
"Sure." Sejanus smiles, trying to hide the sadness behind it.
"I mean, don't feel like you have to agree. I know your loyalties lie elsewhere." You catch on to his hesitation, following his gaze over to Marcus. "Besides, I don't hold grudges. Even if I did, I won't be holding it for long now, would I?"
"It's not that." Sejanus quickly shakes his head. "I just... I am one of you. District, I mean. That will never change." He sighs, and you watch as he twists his fingers together nervously. "I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. I can't imagine how scared you must be and-"
"That it will never come again. That is what makes life so sweet." You cite, giving him a small smile. "There is nothing that you or I can change now, or then. I am just blessed it was me and not yet my brother. Change will come at the right time. If it's after me, it's after me; I will live forever."
Sejanus opens his mouth to speak, looking slightly dumbfounded before closing his jaw again tightly, giving you a curt nod.
"Don't pity him." You whisper, tucking your knees up to your chest on the cold ground and watching as his eyes fall back onto Marcus. "It will make it only worse."
You rest your chin on the skin of your knees. "I don't- it's not my fault and I know that." He replies.
"I know, Sejanus." You say, smiling in the face of his defensiveness. "Just... Don't let him think that. Which is easier said than done, I know."
"We're supposed to be mentoring you." He says after a moment, back to his normal self, from what you could tell. "Not the other way around."
"You're right. My apologies." You giggle. "Tell me then, how do I win?" You don't truly expect an answer; you don't expect you have any chance of winning. Not without the need enough to kill. It wouldn't be worth it, despite.
"My honest, best advice?" He asks rhetorically, looking around as he leans in to whisper to you. "Figure out a way to escape."
"Sejanus." You don't have the time to process the shock of his suggestion before your conversation is being interrupted by Coriolanus standing behind him, casting a shadow over the two of you. "What are you doing with my tribute?"
"Oh, uh..." Immediately Sejanus becomes shifty at Coriolanus's question. "I brought some food for everyone, and Y/N helped me distribute it. We were just talking."
"Welcome back, Coriolanus. You missed the sandwiches Sejanus brought." You grin, standing up and brushing off the bare backs of your legs.
"That's a shame. Would you come with me?" He asks, motioning for you to follow him along the bars and you nod.
"Thank you, Sejanus." You take a moment to honestly thank him, and he just nods before you follow Coriolanus who has already walked away.
"How was your day? I assume you went to school?" You ask, stopping just in front of him.
"It was... fine, thank you." He clears his throat. "Hard to focus."
"Oh?" You tilt your head as he digs through his bag. "What's bothering you?"
"Well, uh," He pauses, looking up from his bag to meet your eyes. "This mentorship thing is new, and very important, so there's just a lot on my mind."
"There's a prize." You state at the realization, smile fading slightly. You had been so excited that he was so kind to you that you failed to consider the likelihood of an incentive.
"There is." He confirms. "But, whether or not you win doesn't matter. I am here to help you do the best you can, and I do want you to win."
"Oh, I see." You reply hesitantly. Sejanus told you he is kind, so he must be. You have to force yourself to believe he's not just using you. But even if he is, what does it matter? If he's kind to you in your final days, out of honesty or personal gain, will the intentions even matter? You suppose not. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me." He quickly shakes his head. You had thanked the peacekeepers who had walked you to the stage, you had thanked the village of people who stood there while you said your final goodbyes and did nothing but listen in silence. No one responded. Coriolanus wouldn't be added to a list of people you thank for nothing.
"Sorry." You mumble, looking around behind you now.
"No, I-" He sighs, taking a breath as he rubs his forehead, pushing away his curls and making it easier for you to see his eyes. "I didn't mean that. I just mean... I haven't done anything for you. I want to help, but don't thank me until I have."
"You have." You answer honestly. "I didn't expect to meet anyone so kind... It helps a lot to just know I have one person who's not rooting against me."
"I would never." Coriolanus insists quickly, shaking his head. "I talked to the head gamemaker, she likes my ideas. That's why Sejanus and the others are here. People want to get to know you. It will help."
You're unsure of how that could help you in the arena, you had never seen it before; you tried to avoid watching or viewing anything to do with the games. It scared you. Petrified you, even, you weren't sure what you expected; but it wasn't that you would be able to get any help. You smile anyway, giving him a slight nod as you wrap your arms tightly around yourself. It's not too cold, but you feel exposed. Even the warm July air, when brushing over your uncovered skin could give you chills in these circumstances.
"You just have to talk to people who come to see you, be nice, like you're trying to make friends. We want to humanize you. I may be able to get people to send you gifts in the arena, food and water to keep you going if they like you."
"Okay." You answer quietly. "I've been talking to folks who come, not much else to do in here." You shrug, smiling at him hopefully. You don't want to sound like you're complaining, you're sure complaining about circumstances you can't change will get you nowhere. "The people seem lovely."
"Lovely." He scoffs, shaking his head with a grin of disbelief. "You don't have to lie to me, you know."
"I'm not!" You insist with a slight laugh, looking around. "They just... seem a little scared, for some reason. It seems like they came to stare, not to talk."
"Well, people here don't like people who are different. To them, you're all different."
"And to you?" You ask, tilting your head at him.
The look you give him could make his heart melt. Wide-eyed and kind down to your bones. If he had the power to call off the games, right now as he looked down into your soul, he would do it in a heartbeat. I'm not here to be friends with her. I'm here to win, Coriolanus has to remind himself. "You're different." He replies. "But I think that's a very good thing."
taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned
if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!
#tbosas#tbosas fic#hunger games#coriolanus snow#tbosas x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#thg#thg fanfic#thg fanfiction#thg series#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coryo x reader#coryo snow#snow lands on top#snow x reader
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𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙃𝙤𝙩—bandmate mizu
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Hey dears!
I'm so so sorry for not being able to keep up with requests that well. My program is taking a lot of my time and beating the shit out of me (esp. u immunology and serology >:c).
Anyways, here's a sort of prequel for my headcanons because band au Mizu is so yummy.
Enjoy! Mwa mwa:*
warning: not proofread, she/her for mizu, will refer to her as a boy (bc she canonically appears like a man), implied afab reader
"But you're so good at playing the guitar, and you have the charisma too. You should definitely join our band. Even our manager is amazing. She—"
"For the last time, Ringo. I don't want to join your stupid band."
Mizu and Ringo were already getting ready to go home after finishing their term-end project for their elective, which just so happened to be music. She didn't really think it through when she enlisted and just picked whichever she thought was the easiest. Ringo, however, just picked the same elective as Mizu.
She carefully placed her electric guitar in its case, zipping it up and securing the locks before slinging it over her shoulder. "I have better things to do and joining a band is a waste of time," she added as she walked up to the door.
Ringo followed after her, a smile still on his face despite the rejection. "You never know. This might even be your calling," he chimed as they exited the room, making her groan out of annoyance. They headed into the parking lot where Mizu's bike was parked. "We have an audition in a week if you want," he said, waiting for his friend to put on her helmet.
Once Mizu was finished putting on her helmet, she hopped on and leaned forward, pushing her weight to retract the center stand. "Not interested," she groaned out, slightly muffled behind her helmet. Her foot kickstarted the bike on before she revved the engine up a bit.
"Well if you decide to change your mind, just send me a message." Ringo stepped back a bit to give Mizu some space to move. She grunted in response and drove forward, leaving her friend waving and shout goodbyes at her.
What's so great about joining a stupid band anyway?
It's probably just filled with pretentious kids pretending to be as good as their idols but can't even memorize which strings their hammer ons should be.
Another groan escaped her lips the more she thought about the offer. It was annoying. Yet, a somehow, a small part of her wanted to play even more. The desire ringing at the back of her head like an itch she couldn't scratch off.
What if she did join?
What if it was as much fun as Ringo always said it was?
A sigh escaped her lips at how bothered she was by her thoughts. Why was she even thinking about this? She can always play her instruments at home. A crowd wouldn't make a difference, she thought as the wind whizzed past.
Her thoughts continued to race as she drove home. This band thing was stupid. Maybe she shouldn't attend the audition after a—
"Hey goofy boy!" a voice called out.
'What? Me?' she thought, lifting her visor to look around for the source of the voice. Across the stoplight, she saw another woman waving at her enthusiastically. It was almost ridiculous to look at. She raised an eyebrow, looking at her sides and behind her to see if you were talking to someone else before pointing to herself inquisitively.
"Yes you! Across the stoplight! C'mere!" you yelled, signaling her to stop in front of the cafe you were standing in front of, not really caring if other people were looking at you with how silly you were being.
Her blue eyes narrowed at you, clearly suspicious of your intentions. And yet, the way you were smiling and calling her over made her feel...something. Once the light turned green, she drove over to you, pulling up at the lot in front of the cafe.
You walked over to her, letting out a sigh of relief as she kicked the side stands on. "What do you want?" she asked in a low voice that clearly indicated that she didn't trust you even one bit.
"That.." You pointed to the guitar case on her back, making her raise an eyebrow cautiously. What did you want with her baby huh? She was so ready to throw hands.
"What model? And how long have you been playing?" you asked, still pointing to her guitar. Mizu looked over her shoulder being sighing. This was a waste of time. "I'm not inclined to tell you that," she replied, getting ready to kick her side stands off.
You snorted at her cold reply before leaning closer until she was face-to-face with you no matter how much she pulled away. The proximity allowing her to take in your features better and you were quite...pretty?
No. Wait.
Let's focus on how much of nuisance you were being.
Before she could even kick off her side stands, you already blocked her foot with yours. "Join our band," you said in a serious tone, showing her a business card before placing it in her jacket, smile still on your face.
Mizu groaned and rolled her eyes. "No. Now get your foot off before I kick it off," she replied. Yet, you kept your foot in the way of her stands, making her eyebrows knit together. "You look really goofy riding that bike of yours with a huge ass guitar case on your back," you said, eyes glancing at her guitar case before staring into her eyes intently. "You have talent, don't you?"
The smile on your face despite how serious and forward you were being was unnerving. "So what? I'm not going to join your band," she said in a low voice. Indeed, she was quite stubborn, but nowhere near your level. This motorist was the diamond in the rough you were looking for. "Goofy boy, join me in the café. It's my treat."
There was no way she's going into that café just for you to give her your sales talk and convince her to join your stupid unknown band. Not in a million years
—was what she thought.
Yet here she was, helmet off and sitting in front of you with a cup of matcha latte, watching you take a bite out of the cake you bought for yourself. After taking a slow sip, she sighed and narrowed her eyes at you. "I thought we were here talk about your band," she scoffed.
You smiled at her yet again, fork still in between your lips. "You're not going to talk right away, right? So let's take our time." A small 'tch' escaped her lips as she leaned back against the chair.
"Fine. I'll talk," she replied, staring at you up and down. Now that she was able to sit down and relax the tiniest bit, she was finally taking her time to look at you. And you weren't an eyesore at all. In fact, you were really fucking cute.
She's still not joining your band though.
A small giggle escaped your lips as you placed the fork down, resting your elbows on the table and intertwining your fingers together. "What model?" you asked, eyes darting to the guitar case beside your table.
Mizu glanced at it as her hands wrapped around the handle of her cup. "A les paul," she replied before taking a sip. Your smile widened before you took a sip from your cup as well, setting it down when she set hers down. "How long have you been playing?"
"Long enough," she replied, glancing at you, rolling her eyes at how you stared at her with curiosity, as if coercing her to tell more. "Fine, fine...before I started high school. I think. Maybe even longer."
You hummed in satisfaction and took another bite out of your cake. "Any other instruments?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow back at you. "A bass. A mustang."
Silence washed over both of you as you continued to eat your cake, making her feel a bit nervous. A small clink was heard as you put your fork down after taking your final bite. "What's your name, goofy boy?"
"Mizu," she replied before taking her drink into her hands. She downed it in one go, placing the cup down and picking her guitar case up. "This is pointless. I'm leaving," she said in a low husky voice, getting ready to stand up.
It was clear to her that she shouldn't have given so much time to you. She wasn't even interested in joining. Maybe if you weren't so cute, she wouldn't have tried to hear you out.
Before she can even stand up, you beat her to it, pushing her back down on the chair gently. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as you leaned forward again.
"I'll make you a star."
Huh?
Her clear surprise and confusion made you giggle. What the hell were you talking about? You pulled away and placed your hands on your hips, giving her a confident smile.
"Talent recognizes talent, Mizu. It may not be now, but I'll make you a star," you beamed.
Mizu blinked before scoffing. "That's ridiculous," she sneered before standing up and putting her helmet on. "For the last time, I'm not fucking joining your stupid audition."
Was what she said.
But here she was, a week later, sitting down inside the studio hallway. Her eyes watched as the auditionees chatted amongst themselves. Those who were done with the audition complaining about how strict the judge was, who she learned was just one person.
Her nerves were sending jitters to the tips of fingers, her throat tightening up slightly in anticipation. She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale before exhaling slowly. Just as she opened her eyes, she jumped slightly at the sight of a familiar pair of feet in front of her.
"I knew you were going to change your mind," her friend's voice chimed.
Looking up, she made eye contact with Ringo who was beaming at her, drumsticks tied to his stubby hands. "But how did you know where our studio is?"
This was the band Ringo was talking about? Oh boy.
She grunted and handed him the business card you snuck into her jacket. "The address is written there," she said with a sigh. He let out a small "oh" before his eyes widened even more. "So you've met her before," he replied cheerfully, handing the business card back.
"Who?" she asked, a serious yet curious look on her face. He looked confused for a moment before he replied, "Our manager. The one who handed you that card?" She wanted to ask more questions, but then a voice suddenly called for the drummer. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I gotta go. Bye!"
Upon Ringo leaving, Mizu sat back down and closed her eyes again, resting her elbows on her knees.
Some time later, all the auditionees had finished and yet, it seems that all of them had been rejected. "This is a waste of time. I should have left earlier," she muttered to herself.
Just as she was about to leave the studio, her name was called, leaving her with no choice. Slowly, she entered the room only to be greeted with—
"You came!" your voice beamed.
Her eyes scanned around the room to see you sitting down on a chair, holding some papers, as well as the other band members presumably. "And you're the manager apparently," she said plainly. A chuckle escaping your lips as you nodded. "You can get ready whenever you want to."
Once her guitar was plugged in and ready to go, she looked up at you again, waiting for any further instructions. Despite her mind telling her that there was nothing to be nervous about, her gut was squeezing and churning from anticipation.
Should she do her best? Or should she fuck this up?
Your eyes watched her carefully, observing how she handled her guitar. "Play any song you'd like," you said, leaning forward in your seat as you set the papers down on a chair beside you.
No. She didn't want to be in this stupid band. She's not going to do her best.
Why the fuck would she do that?
This wasn't even worth it.
Nononononononono—
She looked down on her guitar before beginning to strum the familiar intro of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Despite her bobbing her head slightly, it was clear through her body language that she wasn't even trying at all.
The smile on your face slowly disappeared until all that was left was an unreadably neutral expression. Once she was done, she looked at you with a bored expression. "Well?"
You sighed at her, giving her the same bored expression back, making her smirk a bit. "Guess I'm not in, am I?" She unplugged her guitar, getting ready to put it back in the case before your hands stopped her.
"Sit back down. We're not done," you said in a serious tone, facial expression neutral yet your eyes told her that you were daaaaaaaamn annoyed with how little of an effort she put in. The look in your eyes, they way you were gripping the neck of her guitar, did something to her. "I don't owe you a performance," she replied.
You glared at her lightly before snatching her guitar from her hands, causing her to glare at you. She tried to grab her guitar back but you kept evading her as you plugged it back in. Once it was plugged back on, you pushed towards her, making her stumble back a bit from how harsh you did it.
"Now sit down and play. Talent recognizes talent, Mizu," you growled at her. The scene causing everyone in the room to go quiet. It was clear to them that you were pissed. "If not, then sell that guitar. You're wasting it."
After all, the only thing you hated more than the equipment suddenly breaking was wasted potential. And Mizu was wasting a LOT of potential.
Your words struck a nerve in her causing her. With a loud screech, she pulled the chair towards her and sat down. "Fine. If it gets you to shut the fuck up."
She looked at you with one final glare as she leaned back, hands beginning to move against her guitar.
She began playing Hotel California, immediately skipping to the guitar rift at the end of the song.
By the normal person's ear, it wasn't anything special. There were more impressive sounding songs out there. But to you, you knew how difficult it was to get the tone of the song right with how slow it was compared to other rifts. If she made a mistake here, a wrong pluck, a wrong drag, a wrong vibrato, the mistake would be so painfully obvious.
And yet, here Mizu was, playing it perfectly with the same angry look on her face. She was damn mad at you for touching her guitar, for pushing her towards your stupid fucking band. And yet, she couldn't help but want to impress you.
Did she really not want to be in the band?
Why was she trying so fucking hard then?
Like her body was moving on its own.
Like her hands were itching to play more.
As she ended the song, she looked down at the ground. Suddenly, the sound of clapping caused her to perk up and look at you. The sight causing her breath to hitch a blush to dust over her cheeks. That was when she knew the answer to her question.
It was you and your proud little smile.
That cute fucking smile.
All the annoyance and anger you held at her melted off during her little performance. You knew you saw talent. The moment you saw that goofy looking motorist with the awkwardly large hard guitar case at the stoplight, talent already hit you like a damn truck.
Although she knew you were satisfied with her performance, she couldn't help but want to try more. She'll try. She'll damn try for the hottest fucking manager she has ever seen. Her earlier hesitations of whether she wanted to join the band or not disappearing.
Call it a gay agenda but she was going to secure this fucking spot. She'll be best fucking guitarist you have ever heard or seen.
Just as you were about to congratulate her, she raised a hand up to cut you off. "Wait—fuck—that was too easy. I... goddamnit. Wait, I'll try doing something harder," she said in a panicked slur.
Her hands immediately went back to her guitar, eyes narrowing in thought. If an impressive guitar rift was what she needed...
Suddenly, she began playing the guitar rift for Free Bird. Eyes glued to her guitar, palms sweating a bit as she hit every chord, every pluck, every fucking bend.
You couldn't place your finger on what it was, but somehow, it felt like she was playing more passionately. Like she was putting her all into this one song. Was it the way she was bobbing her head? Or the way she moved her guitar during every vibrato? Maybe the way her body moved with the music?
Once the song ended, she closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. You couldn't help but giggle at how flustered she looked, making her blush again.
"Am I in?" she asked, looking at you with hidden desperation in her eyes, making you giggle even more. Her eyebrows furrowed as you continued to laugh, not really answering her question. "Well?"
A gulp went down her throat as you stood up from your chair and picking up the papers you previously held. "Mizu," you giggled out, "You were already in from the moment you tried again."
...
oh
Well that was embarrassing.
You handed her the contract and a pen, humming as she read the content before signing. Looking at her signature, your smile widened. This flustered looking guitarist was exactly what you were looking for and you just hit jackpot.
"You won't regret this, Mizu. I swear." She glanced at you, scanning the big smile you had on your face before looking down at her guitar and unplugging it. "I better not."
Suddenly, you lunged forward at her. Her eyes widened when you suddenly took her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers together. "Talent recognizes talent," you repeated, leaning closer to her, grip tightening with every word.
"I'll make you a star."
She'll be your star.
#bes mizu x reader#blue eye samurai#blue eye samurai x reader#mizu#mizu x reader#bes mizu#bes x reader#blue eye samurai mizu#mizu imagine#mizu x you#mizu blue eye samurai#mizu x fem!reader#bes#Spotify
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Pretty like the sun
Pairing: Percy Jackson x Apollo daughter OC (she classes as an oc cause I gave her a name but you can just read it like your name or Y/N if you want, I just feel better when I'm writing and the characters have names :)
Summary: Percy has always felt something for you, something that you had felt aswell. These quests of life and death finally knocked some sense into you two.
Warnings: Blood, Pain, Agony, Violence, Weapons, Wounds, Wound treating, Curse words, Oblivious idiots, Fluff, Angsty??, Sexual tension, Mutual pining, Almost death, Non-Canon, Hugs, Kisses, Holding hands, Ooc Percy??? Cerberus as a violent dog (ik she isnt really but this is my imagine so idc), Not proof-read, GUT-WRENCHING LOVE, IDK how i wrote this considering I've never been in a relationship OR have ever had an actual crush in my 16 sad years of life
Words: 6.3k
Notes: This is my first imagine so I'm sorry if its bad😭😭. Also if anyone would be willing to give me a few pointers when it comes to working this app as a creator please do cause, yeah I've been using this app for years but I have no idea how to use it when it comes to posting things. I would be very grateful. ❤️❤️❤️. Also, if anyone wants to request something else for me to write I would love to write something for either Percy or Luke, I'll probably make a list of people who I'm willing to write for later today cause it is 10am rn and I haven't slept so I'll just go bed after this 😭😭😭
As soon as percy got handed this quest, with Grover being part of the cloven council and Annabeth being gone to spend time with her family, Percy knew his immediate first choice would be Aurora, there was no doubt about it. The Apollo girl had a spark about her that has drawn him in the second he laid eyes on her.
He had deemed it because she was a daughter of Apollo so there would always be some sort of light that would draw him in, but he hasnt been very sure of that for a very long time. Every time he laid eyes on her, it felt as though time stood still and she was the only source of light and happiness in this dark, gloomy world.
They had became extremely close when he first came to camp, she taught him the ropes in archery as to put it plainly, he was absolutely shit at it. He had no aim and his stance was awful, in her own words.
When she first said that to him, he wanted to throw her in a dumpster, but then he saw her, he properly saw her. He didnt know what Aphrodite looked like, but he was sure she would be a spitting image of the girl. He was even more sure that she was a daughter of Aphrodite but instead she was not, which made sense as to why she was hanging around the archery booth. From that day forward, she helped him freshen his archery skills, and he helped her with her sword skills.
He has never understood why she wouldnt ask Luke as he was the best swords-man and would probably be a better trainer. However, when he brough it up to her one time her cheeks flushed the tiniest bit and she stated how she was helping him, so he should do that same.
That's how they have ended up here. In the middle of nowhere, trying to find and 'kill' a beast that has been accidently lost and let out from the underworld and send it back. Although quests always have 3 people on them, the oracle specifically stated that this was only a 2 person job. Percy had never been so sure in picking Aurora at that moment in time.
🌊
"Are you sure we are going the right way Perce, I swear I've seen this tree 3 times already" Aurora stated this time taking a dagger and marking said tree with an X so if they do cross it again, she would be right.
"You never trust my navigation skills sunshine, why is that, is it cause you always get lost in my eyes" he says turning to look at her with a smug smile on his face. The girl abruptly stopped at his turn and could feel the blood rush to her cheeks in that moment, her honey-brown eyes immediately locked with his water coloured eyes and she broke the gaze, not letting him have the satisfaction of being right.
"You wish seaweed brain" she muttered and walked past him knocking into his shoulder in the process which led to him letting out a dramatic gasp.
"That hurts sunshine. Where are you going, it's getting dark, we should stop, set up camp and get some rest so we can re-think and re-strategize." The girl slowly stops her steps and turns her back to the boy who is standing there leaning against a tree with his arms crossed giving her a cocky glance that makes her want to die and kill him at the same time.
The two had a stand-off for a bit before one decided to speak up.
"As long as I don't have to scavenge this creepy forest for wood then its fine by me" the girl said walking back to him while his eyes following her every movement till she was a few steps away from him. The girl went to grab something from her pocket with her left hand and with her right, she grabbed the boys arms and dragged her hand down it, to his hand which automatically opened up. She placed something cold into it with her left hand.
He looked at her and she had a glint in her eyes he hadn't seen for the past 12 hours, looking to his palm, he was a coin. Not just any ordinary coin or ordinary drachma. It was a coin from sea life, the one coin they give to one another which can be used for many thing, they talked it over before the quest. The coin can only be used for 2 things during this quest, to make sure the other doesnt die, or the person who has been handed the coin has to do what the person giving the coin wants no matter what.
He looked up at her with a confused look but seeing the mischief in her eyes gave enough away. Sighing he pocketed the coin and stepped away from the tree which only left 3 steps in-between the two.
"What do you want me to do" not even bothering arguing.
"I want to see you fail at making a fire" she said just giving him the brightest smile, basically oozing sunlight from her. The boy felt like a deer stuck in headlights in that moment, he almost forgot the reason for her heavenly smile. He wanted to tell her he loved her right there and then, that he could never get enough of her, that he searched for her in every room he ever walked into, that she was the one and only constant source of light in his life, that she was the sun and he would orbit her in every universe no matter how close he got, no matter how much it destroyed him. He was utterly inconsolable without her. He loved her.
"Aurora" the boy started to say, in a serious tone which immediately made the girl's smile falter as she looked into his eyes, he didnt need to say anything. His eyes spoke more words than he would have liked, enough for the girl to get the message and understand him. All of the glances, the subtle touches, the comfort of each other like no other. She felt and understood it all.
He was about of continue when a roar sounded, echoing in all directions and rustling the trees. The two could hear the howl of Cerberus all around them. Percy immediately uncapped riptide while Aurora unclasped her bracelet which turned into a bow and an unlimited supply of arrows.
The both circled back to back, covering each others blind spot like muscle memory. They could feel the ground shake with each step the otherworldly creature took.
"How are we going to do this?" the girl asked while keeping an eye on all of her surroundings.
"You distract with your arrows as they are long-range and while she's focused on you, I'll go for the kill shot"
"She can't die" she could feel him rolling her eyes as the words left her mouth.
"You know what I mean"
They could hear the low growl from the side of them. The three-headed beast emerged in all its glory with its 6 menacing eyes ready to rip these two teens to shreds and send the wrong beings in this equation to the underworld. Percy turned to stand next to Aurora and the girl grabbed his hand and squeezed to which he immediately responded. There were many unspoken words that had been said in the past 10 minutes and this was another addition 'dont die, be safe, come back to me'.
Slipping through her fingers, his hand left hers and quietly stalked away before the beast could get any idea there were 2 of them. Wishing the best for the boy, she instantly got the dogs attention by shooting an arrow at the middle head's nose.
It did not like that.
They all barked at once and got ready to run at the girl. She didn't like to admit it but she was fucking terrified. Cerberus ran at her and she leapt to the side and ran as fast as she could not looking back until she could feel he's a little away from her. She got another arrow ready in her bow and blindly shot it behind her.
She heard a small whimper which brought a smirk to her face but that was immediately wiped away as she heard the barking intensify. Hiding behind a tree the girl caught her breaths and looked for the hound and she couldnt spot it or Percy. She got another arrow ready and looked behind the tree once again but was faced with the thing she was hunting.
Fear spread to every part of her body and she had no time to brace the impact as the dog clawed the tree which in return clawed her. She let out a bloodcurdling scream as she was flung into another tree. The bark from the destroyed tree splintered her, her head hit against a tree on impact and the large gash on her side felt like a fire that was melting her skin off. The girl felt her breath stick in her throat, she felt as though she was dying as immense pain filled her and black spots invaded her vision. Only one other thing was on her mind.
Percy.
The ocean eyed boy lost sight of Cerberus immediately as it began to chase Aurora, his Aurora. He followed as fast as he could not wanting anything bad to happen to the girl he loved before he got any chance to be with her, to confess and to just live a life content with his feelings.
As he heard, the whoosh of Aurora's arrows increase, he could feel himself being uncapable of keeping up with the beast from the underworld and he cursed himself for it. He lost sight of Cerberus and it scared him, it was too quiet. He couldn't hear the creature or the girl he loved.
His heartbeat quickened as he looked all around him trying to see a glimpse of either of them.
Then all blood drain out of his face when he heard the one sound he wished he did not have to hear, ever. Aurora's scream made his heart almost leap out of his chest. He didnt know what to do, he didnt know where she was, he couldnt see the hound, its his fault, she going to die because of him.
She most certainly is going to die if you dont get a fucking move on, that one voice in his head said. And he pushed all the doubts to the back of his head and focused on 2 things. Defeating Cerberus and finding Aurora.
He could hear the three-headed dogs footsteps and instantly ran to it. It didnt see him coming and it's tail was on the ground so he didnt the best thing he could think of. He ran up the tail onto the body of the beast.
This elicited loud barking from the beast and Percy could only do one thing. Repeatedly stab the dog until it dissolved.
Now... admittedly, this was not a good strategy. It was fucking awful. There was no thought to his stabs, they all just angered the beast and considering she was quite resistance to stabs, it wasnt helping. He was just tiring himself out.
He then has the genius idea of stabbing the beast in the eye, or eyes. He started with the left head. The beast let out a large whimper, and stumbled which cause the boy to almost loose his grip on it. He wasnt going to stop now, he needed to send Cerberus back and get to Aurora.
Aurora. Her scream was echoing in his mind. Bouncing around his skull like he has no brain inside, only her gut-wrenching scream.
He subtly shook his head. As much as he was dreading where she was and if she was okay. He needed to secure Cerberus and he needed all attention to so it as fast a possible to get back to his sunshine.
He then stabbed riptide into both the right heads eyes. Percy knew what to expect this time so he braced himself and held on as tight as he could. He could not fail now. He was too close.
The dog slumped onto the floor which made percy's last task much more easier. With agility and caution the boy leapt onto the middle head and punctured the eyes out which evoked a whimper which made the boy feel bad for the animal and it slowly turned to dust.
In an instant the boy caught his breath and his mind raced with only one thing.
Aurora.
"Aurora! Sunshine! Where are you?" The boy felt as though he could not breathe. His head was spinning trying to find her in the mountains of trees and in the darkness of this forest, he has never needed to see her more now than any other time.
"Aurora! Please if you can hear me make a sound! Anything so I know you're alive" He would never leave her. He would die before he left her to rot in these woods. He would never be able to face the guilt and loss.
"Please! Say SOMETHING" he could feel himself getting frustrated. "HELP! SOMEONE, ANYONE" tears welded in his eyes trying to find her.
There was a rustle of leaves from the left side behind him. He was running to the sound before it even registered in the back of his mind. He kept hearing the rustling and a small whimper.
He saw a faint glow of light behind a tree and he held his breath for the sight that was to come. He skidded to a stop and fell on his knees infront of her.
His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw her. Her face was significantly paler than when he left her and she had a wood splinter sticking out of her thigh and worst of all, the 4 claw marks across her abdomen with blood everywhere, it seemed to have stopped pouring, but it was a nauseating sight to see. He didnt know what to do.
"Aurora, darling, open your eyes" his hands reached her cheeks and his thumb rubbed circled on her cheek and his two fingers made their way to her neck to check her pulse. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse. It was faint but not too faint to the point it would slip too far out of his grasp.
He reached for his bag on his back to get some first aid supplies, ambrosia and nectar for the girl, when she let out a pained gasp.
The girl had barely an recollection of anything, the only thing on her mind at the moment was the immense pain shooting through her whole body, It felt like she was on fire and couldnt breathe. She wanted to die.
Then her vision cleared and she saw the golden haired boy looked at her like she was the only thing in the whole world, he held so much worry in his eyes that she thought for a second if she was already dead and it was her spirit seeing his reaction to her death.
"Gods, Aurora, you're okay. You had be so worried, I was terrified, I cannot lose you. If I lost you I would lose myself" The boy held one hand to her cheek while speaking so intently to her.
In that one moment she could feel his stare, like clockwork, bubble something inside of her. It almost made her forget why she was on the ground, why she could taste something metallic in the back of her mouth, why she couldnt move her right leg. It almost took it away. Almost.
That fire spread throughout her body again and she couldnt stop the wail that left her mouth. The pain was nauseating. A flood of curses left Percy's mouth as he grabbed the bottle of nectar and opened it.
"Okay, sunshine, I know you're in a lot of pain but I'm going to give you some nectar, you need to drink it but you need to sit up a little straighter." The girl immediately shook her head as a no in response to the boy.
"I know. The amount of times we've both had to do it but you know deep down that its the only thing that will fix it." The girl tried to harden her stare at the boy but she was too weak to even look at him properly.
"O-okay, but... I can't" she inhaled sharply as she tried to move the slightest bit. She didn't have to finish her sentence for the boy to understand what she was trying to say. He took one his flannel button ups from his bag, scrunched it up and gave it to her. She could only give him a confused look.
"Put it in your mouth, bite down hard cause I'm gonna move you into the right position and its gonna be a pain. I'm sorry sunshine but I have to." She took it with her shaking hands and was about to put it in her mouth when she smelt it, sea salt and musk, then the girl really looked at what the item of clothing was.
"this is yours" she said in a hoarse voice, looking up at him, confusion plastered all over her features.
"Well I dont exactly know where your bag is so next best thing." he gave her a weak smile and moved closer to her but she weakly grabbed his hand.
"I'm scared" she whispered so pathetically but the boy understood, he knew her. He knew that he needed to keep talking to her, to make sure he is doing something close enough to her for her to know that she's still alive.
He only interlaced their fingers and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
"I won't let go, I promise. You aren't leaving me, not after everything we have been through together" the girl's eyes welled with tears but she nodded and stuffed her mouth with Percy's flannel.
He wrapped his arms around her from the side, where he was sitting and placed a kiss in the hair before counting down.
"3...2..." the boy didnt get to 1 before he pulled her up so she was sitting not laying down and with the movement came muffled screams and tears that flowed down the girls face. He was whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she lent into him and he repeatedly kissed her hair or forehead.
"I'm sorry sunshine, I really am. When you're all better I promise you can hit me" he tried to uplift her but she could barely hear him. Her body shook and agony filled her every sense. He couldn't even express the guilt and regret he felt for the girl, immediately grabbing the nectar, and slowly taking his flannel out of her mouth.
"You're doing great sweetheart" he says while slowly pouring the nectar into her mouth. Her head is resting against his shoulder as she swallows the drink down in small sips. After she drank it, Percy put it away and the girl began to close her eyes.
"Hey, hey, sunshine you can't be doing that right now. Come on I need to patch you up and then we need to get back to camp, I'll call blackjack. I know how much you like riding on him" he lifts her head off his shoulder and places her on the tree, but this time sitting up so he has easy access to her abdomen.
She opened one eye and slightly smiled at the boy.
"You're gonna call blackjack?" the girl asked a bit delirious but seemingly in less pain. This brought a instant smile to him as he let out a chuckle, nodding his head while grabbing gauze and 2 bandage rolls.
"I promise I will, but you have to make sure to keep fighting okay. Once this is over, I have something special to tell you" He came loser to the girl and her breath slowed for a moment.
He looked at her abdomen and a thought crossed his head that made blood rush to his cheeks, he was thankful the girl was delirious and it was dark or else he would simply wallow away. He cleared his throat and looked back up to the girl.
"I'm going to have to cut your shirt off so I can access the cuts and clean them properly" he looked into her eyes once but couldnt face her after that.
"okay" she whispered in return, locking her eyes onto his every move.
The boy went back into his bag and grabbed a pair of scissors then faced the girl again. He could feel her watchful eyes on him the entire time and he hated to say it but that small voice in the back of his head was wishing she was a bit more delirious right now so he wasnt under her scrutiny while undressing her. Clearing his throat again, he begins to speak.
"Just tell me when to slow down or when to stop, if it gets too painful for you and I'll stop and slow down, okay" he looked to her for reassurance and an okay, to which she nodded.
He didn't know how to position himself so he just opted for kneeling next to her, facing her. He then grabbed the scissors and started to cut her top. Starting from the bottom to the top. As he reached the first claw mark the girl hissed as the shirt was stuck to the wound due to all the dried blood. Percy automatically stopped what he was doing.
"No, no, keep going, don't stop now otherwise we will never get this done and I can't go back to camp cause I'll be dead" her honey-brown eyes were glossed with tears and the boy just wanted to hold her in his arms until the end of time in a place where they aren't fighting monsters all the damn time and in a place where they can settle down, have fun and just enjoy their life like regular teenagers.
"Don't say that so casually, you are not going to die. Not when you have me. Not when I'll always be here for you, patching you up, nursing you back to health forever. I will never in a million years let you die. I swear on the river Styx."
She couldn't say anything to him, he will always render her speechless. She just nodded her head as tears cascaded down her cheeks to which he wiped away and placed a kiss on her forehead. Feeling the warmth off eachother brought a sense of peace to them that no one else could ever fill.
He finished wiping her tears away and then continued cutting her shirt away from the wound. Every time she hissed, winced or flinched, the boy had the overwhelming urge to stop everything he was doing as long as it stopped bring her more pain. Whenever this would happen, the girl would softly squeeze his knee, as her hand was resting there to make sure he was still close to her and was still okay and breathing.
This reassured him immensely but it did not stop him from the guilt that was drowning him. This would not have happened if it wasn't for him. She would not be in this position right now if he just chose someone else to go on the quest with. She had almost died due to his decision making. He chose her, he told her the plan, the plan that put her straight into danger, he didnt even second guess his choice, he put her into the battlefield without even asking her properly. Whatever he said went.
The boy had not realised that during his intense self-loathing session, he zoned out and stopped the task at hand.
"Perce?" the girl asked while bringing her hand from his knee to his bicep. "Are you okay? whats going on in your kelp filled brain?" she said with a half smile as the boy looked up at her.
"Nothing, its okay. Just zoned out for a sec" he replied in an instant, looked away from her and continued to cut her shirt away. He was almost at her breasts and he could feel himself getting a bit hot. Obviously, there was no reason to in this situation but just being so close and intimate to her in a non sexual way made him flustered, he couldn't even imagine of it was in a sex- STOP. He shouted at his brain.
She let out a whimper of pain and a few laboured breaths as Percy carefully peeled her shirt of off the biggest wound she had. Her hand squeezed his knee harder than he would have liked her to but it didnt matter, not anymore, not when he caused this, not when he was the reason for her pain.
He finally got it off the biggest cut and last cut and now he just had to cut the rest of the shirt off. No big deal right?
WRONG.
The boy was telling himself to suck it up and just cut the rest of her shirt off but he was flustered. It was times like this that made him remember he was just a boy. He was just a boy with a silly crush. Except it isnt a 'silly crush' he was utterly in love with the girl. He tried to clear his head and at the same time, cleared his throat while he cut higher.
He could feel her eyes watching him, he could feel how fast her heart was racing and he could feel how fast his own was racing. It was as though their hearts were in sync. Every beat was the same.
Yes the girl felt flustered in this situation, she also couldn't help but want to tease the boy she loved. The girl had always grown up with a life where she never 'loved' anyone, not truly. To her love was always a very strong word in her dictionary but whatever she felt for Percy Jackson it was so powerful she felt as though she needed a word more meaningful than love.
A word that expressed how everytime she thought of him, that specific memory of him will be branded in her brain forever to the point where even Hera could never make her forget him or forget the way he makes her feel.
He makes her feel alive, the most alive shes every felt in her 16 years of life.
"Are you blushing water boy?" the girl asked him with a half smile on her face and eyes half opened as she felt a sharp pain run through her, while also trying to control her own breathing at the same time. Percy didn't respond, he only kept cutting her shirt off, fingers lightly brushing over the material of her bra.
She held her breath when he did that, whether it was on purpose of not, the feeling it sent through her body made her want to repeatedly bash her head against a solid wall while ripping her eyes out... in a good way of course.
Percy finally cut her shirt fully off and it just slid down her arms and bunched at the bottom, near the tree. She felt exposed and could feel the goosebumps on her exposed skin. Percy didn't waste any time and grabbed a clean towel and his water bottle.
Before he could drenched it in water, she stopped him by kicking him with her uncompromised leg to indicate he needed to stop. This instantly stopped him and caused him to look at her.
"Give me the water bottle before you soak the towel, if the water is warm it will work better and not hurt as much so i'll just heat it up" Percy thought about it for a second before he retaliated.
"You already aren't well enough to get off the ground, how on earth are you going to make it back to camp if you drain yourself of more energy. I know its going to hurt but it will either way, but getting you back to camp is the priority at the moment" Percy didnt want to say those words to the girl, he felt so bad for her and he couldn't help but blame himself. And when he looked into her eyes, like really looked into her eyes after he said that, he wished he could take it back.
Just looking at her made him want to give into her.
"I can take it, I promise, I'll be okay enough to get back to camp, but I'm telling you now Percy, if I feel anymore extreme pain, I will just end up passing out. Please just let me do this." she tried to move closer to the boy but forgot about the fact that she literally could not move a single inch without his help.
This just lead the boy to wrap his arm around her back and lent her against the tree again. He looked at her with a stern look.
"Okay, you win. But you have to promise on the river Styx that you will preserve every other bit of your energy for the ride back home."
"I swear on the River Styx that I will preserve every other bit of my energy for the ride back to camp" He gave her one last look before giving her the water bottle. She focused some most of her energy to her hands and they started to glow. She took the bottle from percy's hand and he could feel the warmth radiate off of her.
He looked at her in awe but if anyone else was there they would have told you that the boy was love struck. She opened her eyes and made sure to not boil the water. As it was simmering, she gave the bottle back to the boy and he instantly uncapped it and poured the, now warm, water onto the towel.
"This is going to hurt... a lot, and by a lot i mean a lot, you might want to brace yourself" the boy said as he gave his flannel back to her and some ambrosia for her to eat before they start the painful part of fixing her up.
Aurora took both and muttered a small thanks under her breath before eating the ambrosia which was very pleasant to chew and then stuffed percy's flannel in her mouth again. She felt so weird but if she didnt and someone heard her scream bloody murder, they would get caught and the police would want them... again.
His ocean blue eyes met her honey eyes and he shared a look of regret and guilt before he wiped the dried blood away, starting from the bottom of her abdomen. She instantly clenched her jaw and recoiled as agony ran through her and her hand immediately shot out to grab Percy's wrist in a painfully tight hold to stop him from further cleaning the wounds that caused her pain.
"Sunshine, I know its painful, but I have to do this, I'm going to do this as fast and gently as I can but I will have to be rough at times" he gently takes his freehand to clasp over hers and took it of him and intertwined them while speaking to her.
In his favour, it seemed that the energy it took the girl to warm the water up finally caught up with her as her hand lost most of its grip and her eyes closed slightly. He chuckled slightly and placed her hand back down next to her before continuing what he was doing.
He carefully but efficiently cleaned the areas surrounding her wounds while she was rejuvenating. He would hear muffled noises from time to time but other than that she was essentially knocked out. As he finished she seemed to feel less tired and her eyes opened wider than they did before.
"I'm almost finished sunshine, did you like your nap?" the boy questioned with a smirk but deep down he was glad that she kept her promise and she would have enough energy to go back to camp.
The girl nodded and looked at her abdomen. It was really clean and the wounds were barely bleeding anymore but she was fucking freezing. She shivered a little bit and percy could tell instantly.
"I've just got to bandage you up then you can put a jumper on. Okay?" he reassured her while taking the sterile dressing, he placed it over the 4 slashes and began to unwrap the dressing to bandage her up.
They both soon found the position to be quite awkward.
Percy needed to bandage her whole abdomen which needed him to wrap the dressing over her back but she was lent up against the tree without a shirt on and unable to move to do it herself. He stopped to think of a good way to do this.
"Okay, I've got it. I'll lean you up against me and bandage your abdomen from behind." The girl thought for a bit before she agreed and the boy got up so he was only seen in her peripheral vision. He hooked his arms under hers and moved her along the ground to sit inbetween his legs. The position felt very compromising for both of them but it needed to be done.
She could feel his warm breath on her cold neck and she felt the urge to pass away because if thats how she passed, she would not mind. She held her breath as Percy begun wrapping her abdomen, she could barely feel the pain cause all she could think about and feel was him.
His breath on her neck, his fingers brushing her skin, how carefully he was handling her, like she would break at the wrong touch. He was everything she wanted, everything she needed. Everything they both deserved.
He quickly finished wrapping her up and he mentally called Blackjack from where ever he was right now. Before he could move or start to get things sorted he just looked at Aurora. She was peaceful. She looked ethereal under the moonlight, though she did look better under direct sunlight.
He decided to just stay still for a bit and wrapped an arms around the girl loosely as to not injure or hurt her more. They just needed some rest, no matter how long or short it was.
Both Aurora and Percy could hear the flap of Blackjacks wings so he quickly moved the girl back to lean against the tree while he packed everything away. Not before making sure to torniquet the girls leg where the wood piece was still protruding out of it. He made the decision before to not take it out as they both did not know how severe the injury underneath it was.
Percy grabbed a warm, woolly jumper from his bag and a blanket and gave both items to the girl before zipping it up.
"I'm going to find your bag and your bracelet before we leave, and before you say anything. I'm going to call Blackjack here to be with you before I look for them" he stated as he got up.
"Thanks a lot Perce, but before you look, how am I meant to put this jumper on without raising my arms and disrupting my bandages" Percy felt like an idiot. He dropped his bag back on the ground and knelt next to her carefully putting the jumper through one arms hole, then the next, then her head through.
Percy would never admit it there and then but he always loved when the girl would wear his clothes. It sent a warm fuzzy feeling through him knowing she was wearing his clothes, especially when she was willingly wearing his clothes.
Similarly, Aurora would never admit it there but having Percy help her get changed into his clothes and help clean her up made her fall even more in love with him if that was even possible. She felt as though she was just falling into deep pit everytime he did anything for her or even just looked her way.
He finished by wrapping her up in the blanket and chuckled when he saw how she looked... Exactly like a burrito.
Blackjack came down and the girls eyes instantly widened at the sight of the creature. To which the boy just smiled at. Before he left to retrieve her bag and bracelet which were very easy to find. He quickly arrived back to the girl and Pegasus and was met with an adorable sight.
The Pegasus was on the floor next to the girl and was almost hugging her with its wing. Percy didnt think he could fall in love with the girl again but she has gone and proved him wrong, like always.
"I've got your things sunshine, and I know its going to hurt but I'm going to have to pick you up to put you on Blackjack. Is that okay?" He knelt next to her and she nodded.
He wrapped an arm around her back and one under her knees, making sure not to hit the piece of wood and picked the girl up, quite easily, bridal style. It make them both feel fuzzy and warm inside. Even blackjack could feel the warmth.
He placed her sitting on the Pegasus so she would be infront of him when he got on. He then grabbed both of their bags and got onto blackjack himself.
"You'd normally need to hold on tight to blackjack but I'll hold you okay? Just rest" The boy whispered in her ear as he gave her a peck on her cheek while she slowly drifted off and leaned her head back onto the boy's shoulder.
"Blackjack, No crazy flying today. We aren't at war today, its a rest day. Just take us back to camp, quick but not to the point we normally fly." Blackjacks reply left Percy with pink staining his cheeks and they made their way back to camp.
______________________________________________________________
OH MY FUCKING DAYS, I AM NEVER WRITING ANYTHING THIS LONG AGAIN
(such a fucking lie)
But I have to honest, apart from the small mental breakdowns. This was really fun to write. I love these two soo much.
When I went into this, I wanted to actually get them back to camp and I wanted them to confess but it was getting tooooooo long for that so if anyone wants a part 2, I'll gladly make it. Please dont critique me too much, this is still my first imagine 😭😭😭
I LOVE YOU ALL ❤️❤️❤️
unless you piss me off
#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy series#percy pjo#pjo tv show#pjo fandom#pjo series#pjo#percy jackson x oc#percy jackson imagines#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson series#rick riordan#riordanverse#idk how tags work#idk how to work this app#first imagine#please be nice#totally not begging#i need moots#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#medusa bae#walker scobell#happy birthday walker#i need ep 5 rn#gonna die#all-nighter#gonna go bed now#i need to sort my routine out
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THIS JUST IN: CALLUM TURNER SOON TO BE DAD
masterlist can be found here
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yourinstagram strollin’ London w my London boy
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fan12 am i gonna have to be the one to say it … she’s pregnant
fan23 i agree she’s only been seen in callum’s clothes of oversized jackets it’s diff from her usual style
user13 deuxmoi said on her podcast that a trusted source confirmed she’s pregnant. I believe it you can see a hint of the belly here.
user23 1) we’re in 2024 how about we stop speculating women are pregnant every time their bodies change and 2) if they are pregnant Callum will share when he’s ready respect their privacy
fan49 PLEASE Callum she ain’t going anywhere why you gripping so tight 😭😭
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tmz BREAKING NEWS: After months of speculation TMZ is finally able to confirm, Callum Turner and his girlfriend are expecting. Turner’s leading lady was photographer exiting his Los Angeles home. More pics and video in link in bio.
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user23 the violation of privacy is INSANE! Callum and Y/N I’m so sorry.
fan41 DM SAID IT!!! Congrats to the lovely couple!
user02 They were probably trying to enjoy it between the two of them but TMZ sat outside their home to snap photos. Callum’s already so private now he’s going to give us NOTHING i hope ya’ll nosy people happy
user78 callum been daddy iktr 🙌🏼
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yourinstagram When we found out I was pregnant we were so overjoyed we felt like our hearts could burst. It was something we were keeping sacred between our friends and family now that has been taken from us.
Mumma and Daddy can’t wait to meet you, baby. We promise to always protect and put you first. Thank you everyone for all the love and we ask that you respect our privacy during this time. - Cal & Y/N
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rafflaw His hand is always on the belly! Congrats man!
keoghan92 Let me and Brando know when you’re free for a playdate ♥️ children are the most precious things, much love
austinbutler Congratulations, love you guys.
lillyjames The media is horrid. So much love to your little family <3
camillerow Can’t wait to spoil them rotten
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dailymail Despite how news of his impending fatherhood broke, Callum Turner was all smiles on the Masters of the Air set as he received hugs and congratulations from the cast and crew.
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user13 He is overjoyed he is going to be the best Dad
fan12 it feels so good to see him so happy 😭
user93 do ya’ll think Barry and him crack Dad jokes on the set? LMAO
fan21 Sending him and his family all the love as they celebrate these fantastic news ❤️❤️
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callumupdates Y/N spotted looking a bit sick at the market yesterday. Hope she is doing okay 🥺
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user21 she looks insanely gorgeous wdym sick
callumupdates she’s always gorgeous but you can’t deny she looks tired and pale i’m worried the attention could be getting to her i hope callum is taking good care of her and their baby.
fan12 She’s pregnant, leave her alone.
fan13 Some women get overly tired/sick while pregnant. It’s a big change for the body. We should do what they asked and respect their privacy during this time. Why would a pap be following her around in her state?
user09 i’m really worried guys
yourinstagram Guys, I promise I’m fine and Callum is the best support system I could have ever possibly asked for 💘 Some women thrive during pregnancy but it’s kicking my ass and having someone follow me around snapping pics when I don’t feel my best doesn’t help, however I’m still so so happy to be carrying our precious gift. Thank you all for the love and support.
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callumfan HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO SAY IT? Callum and Y/N already asked for privacy and Y/N has already stated she doesn’t feel her best/isn’t comfortable having people take pictures of her right now! Why is that so hard to respect?
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user19 this picture is heartbreaking. he’s glaring at the camera and it looks like she’s sinking into him trying to hide.
user11 she looks so tired and sad it sucks
fan13 don’t want no one complaining about callum being private because this right here is why he doesn’t share with us
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callumupdates Callum was not happy when he stopped for fans and they approached Y/N after he explicitly told them not to. She was in one of his sweaters and beanies and looked like she was trying to hide, according to a fan there. Callum stepped in and told the fans to step away from Y/N before the couple walked away.
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user23 Y/N is acting like she’s the first person to get pregnant she’s dramatic
fan13 she has stated she is happy to be carrying their child but the pregnancy is taking a toll on her body and mind which is why she’s always hiding/ looks tired. Not everyone has amazing pregnancies
keoghan92 It’s already annoying as is when you’re feeling like shit and people shove cameras in your face. Can’t imagine having to deal with it while also being pregnant. Cheers Y/N, may everyone start giving you the respect you deserve
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callumupdates New photo of Callum consoling Y/N last night after the restaurant they were at was swarmed - March 28
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fan23 he’s gonna pop off on someone and at this point he has every right
user12 I love them so much it hurts to see her he so sad!
fan19 alright who do I have to fight?
user10 there’s nothing Callum wouldn’t do for her 🥹
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yourinstagram Little munchkin is wearing momma out 🫶🏻 Thank you to everyone for the concern, as I stated before it’s been a huge change for my body to adjust but I have never been happier. Callum, I love you and our baby to the moon and back forever. ♾️
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kaiagerber you’re unreal
lillyjames I know Mr. Turner is taking great care of you 😌
yourinstagram He’s the best and possibly more nervous/excited than me haha
yourfriendsinstagram LOVE YOU PEOPLE ♥️
anthonyboyle if I buy the pregnancy stimulator can we put it on these assholes saying shit online? You’re great Y/N!
yourinstagram LOL STOP IT!
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rafflaw Catch us outside if you wanna talk about @yourinstagram 👊🏻👊🏻👊🏻
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yourinstagram YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY 😂🫶🏻
keoghan92 where am I at? I’m leading the cause
anthonyboyle photoshop us in right now
tomhanks I want a piece of this too.
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callumupdates Y/N and Callum on their babymoon in Cabo. Friends and family in attendance are: their mothers, Barry Keoghan, Sabrina Carpenter, Austin Butler and his girlfriend, Lilly James, Sophie Turner, Daisy Lowe, and Nick Grimshaw.
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fan19 they are so loved 🥰 as they should be tbh
user23 I’m so happy they have a strong support system
fan24 it feels so good to see Y/N smile again
yourinstagram honestly it’s been a wild ride but Callum’s been my biggest blessing through it all 🫶🏻♾️
Hope you all enjoy, this was a request <3 If anyone’s interested in part 2 let me know because I have loads of baby pics I can use lmao & as always feel free to pop in and talk to me about Callum, Austin, Elvis, or Harry if your heart desires 💘
#callum turner#callum turner x reader#callum x reader#callum turner fanfic#callum turner ig edit#callum turner instagram edit#dad! callum#*made by me
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A Baker's Dozen - Nine
Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.
Hello!
Pedro boy number nine is waiting in the wings but I need to add some warnings before anything else. This chapter contains mentions of blood, a small injury and fairly detailed description of cleaning said injury.
I want to dedicate this chapter to @leslie-lyman and her wonderful Stranger at my Gate fic which I absolutely love and gave me a new found love for this Pedro character. ❤❤❤
Series Master List
You’re not often scared in the bakery, even though you often work early mornings and late nights. But when you suddenly hear the rattle of the dumpster outside your back door, and a muffled gasp as if someone’s in pain, your heart flies into your throat. It’s been dark for a few hours, evening coming early as the heavy rain refused to let up. You’re clearing up after preparing for next weekend’s wedding cake, and it’s already late when you’re startled by the sound. Grabbing your rolling pin, you carefully nudge the back door open and peer out into the dim light, rain dripping down from the eaves of the building. The glow of the street lamps don’t reach too far and most of the back yard is cast in shadows, made even dimmer by the heavy rain. But you see the source of the disturbance straight away, a man is crouched down by the dumpster, his hand held tight to his chest as he curses in a low voice.
You clear your throat lightly, “Umm, are you ok?” you ask.
The man immediately snaps his eyes to you and straightens up, his hand still cradled against his chest, but his other hand drops to his hip and for a fearful second you think he’s reaching for a gun. But his hand pats his side and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for he quickly scans the ground around him and curses again, giving an exasperated sigh and briefly glancing up at the sky.
You’re not sure if you should slam the door shut and lock it, but the way he winces when the movement jostles his hand keeps you from retreating.
“Is your hand hurt? Do you need some help?” you ask, still only opening the door a little bit. The man sighs again and nods, looking up at you.
“I think I cut it when I fell,” he replies, looking down at his hand and carefully unfurling his fist.
“Ok…” you say, trying to figure out what to do, let an injured stranger into your kitchen late at night, or just call an ambulance?
“How bad is it?” you ask, “Can I see it?”
The man nods and cautiously holds out his hand, but doesn’t make a move to come closer, and you suddenly realize that he looks a lot more hesitant than you feel, his eyebrows are bunched together, and mistrust is written across his dark features.
“Uhm…could you maybe come over here, the light’s better,” you say gently, opening the door a little more and, in a sudden decision, put the rolling pin on the shelf behind you. The action seems to earn you a bit of trust and the man takes a few tentative steps forward into the light. He holds out his hand and you step down on to the stairs and look at it.
“There’s quite a bit of blood,” you say, carefully nudging his fingers tips back so that he opens his palm a bit more.
“Hands always bleed a lot,” the man says curtly, “It’s not my first injury, and I can move my fingers, I just need to clean it.”
He has an accent that makes you look up at his face as he speaks, his voice low and rough but not unpleasant. The scar that cuts across his left eye draws your attention, and when he catches you looking at his face he meets your eyes, his eyebrows still bunched together as he points with his good hand to the scar.
“Does it scare you?” he asks, scowling, and you pull back from where your fingers were gently touching his injured hand.
“Should I be scared?” you ask in return, challenging him a little with your tone.
“No, not if you don’t intend to steal from me,” he says, and you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips. He’s a sorry sight, wet to the bone by the looks of it, injured and bleeding, and he’s worried you’ll steal from him?
“I promise I won’t steal from you,” you smile softly, taking a step back and opening your door wider, letting him in, “C’mon in, you look soaked.”
He hesitates for a few moments, glancing around him and then back at you.
“Thank you,” he nods, not smiling, the scowl a permanent fixture on his face, as you lead him through the back room and into the kitchen.
He looks around the space with cautious eyes as you go to the sink, and as you turn, you notice his clothes for the first time. He’s dressed head to toe in faded black, an old fashioned shirt billows half way down his thighs. Underneath you can see dirty trousers and well worn leather boots with an intricate pattern in the leather. He looks very much out of place, especially as he widens his eyes and seems to stare at the water running from the tap into your sink.
“Are you ok?” you ask for the second time of the night, tilting your head and giving him a worried look. Maybe he’s hit his head too, he looks dazed when you motion him over to the sink.
He gives a curt nod, still looking at the streaming water as he takes a few tentative steps forward.
“It might sting a bit but rinse it out and I’ll get my first aid kit,” you tell him, handing him a roll of paper towels, “And I think I have an old hoodie that might fit you, if you want to change out of that wet shirt?”
Confusion flits across his face again as you speak, his guarded eyes moving between the water and you, but eventually he carefully puts his hand under the stream. As you fetch the first aid kit and the hoodie, you hear him wince and mutter low curses in a language you can’t make out.
You put the hoodie on the bench next to the sink and open up the first aid kit, pulling out the disinfectant and motioning the man to sit on the stool you’ve rolled over.
“Do you know what you cut yourself on?” you ask as the stranger watches blood drip from the gash on his palm into the sink.
“Broken glass, I think,” he mutters, “it was too dark to see but the cut looks sharp and clean.”
“It does, it should be fairly easy to patch up as long as we get it clean,” you reply, unscrewing the disinfectant, “Do you want to clean it yourself, or do you want me to do it?”
He looks up at you then, the scowl on his face softening into what you think might be surprise. He hesitates, but then he holds out his hand to you.
“Please.”
“Ok then,” you reply, “this shouldn’t sting too much but let me know if it hurts.”
“I’ve had worse injuries,” he replies and you glance up at the scar across his eye.
“Of course, I didn’t mean to-”
“No, I know,” he interrupts, “but I don't want you to worry you’ll cause me pain.” His tone is low, almost hesitant, as if the sincerity in his voice is unfamiliar to him. Your eyes meet his for a few moments as you both try to find balance with the person looking back, you can feel a shift in the room. Nervously you swallow and look down at the strange man’s hand. You realize you don’t know anything about him yet, not even his name, so to distract him from what you need to do, you start talking again.
“You have an accent I can’t place,” you say as you gently make him open his hand, water still streaming over the cut, “but it’s very beautiful,” you give him a small smile as you glance up and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “It is,” you giggle at his dismay, “I like your accent.”
“Thank you,” he mutters, looking almost ashamed and you change the subject.
“What’s your name?” you ask instead, turning off the water and starting to drizzle disinfectant over his hand.
“Pero Tovar,” he replies, and the way he rolls the r’s in his name sends a little shiver of pleasure down your back.
“Pero Tovar,” you repeat, trying to roll the r the way he does, but you can tell from his small chuckle that you’re not successful.
“Almost,” he says and when you look up, you catch the smallest of smiles on his face.
A sharp hiss from Pero pulls your attention back to his hand. He’s opened the hand flat to let the liquid rinse his injury, but the movement has revealed a small shard of glass still pressed in at the edge of the cut.
You quickly reach into the first aid kit for the tweezers and take hold of his wrist, bending down to grasp at the edge of the shard.
“This might sting, but I’ll try to be quick,” you say and Pero grunts in response as you pull the sliver of glass out of the cut, dropping it in the sink.
“I think that’s all, how does it feel?” you ask him and Pero gingerly moves his fingers as you drizzle more disinfectant over his hand.
“Better,” he nods as you turn to take out what you need to close the cut from the first aid kit.
“You’re lucky you ended up at front of my door, Pero,” you say, “I’m an expert at cutting my fingers, and therefore, an expert at taking care of them too.”
The man only grunts in response, tugging at his shirt and you suddenly hear it rip, as he pulls a strip from the hem.
“Tie this around my hand, it will stop the bleeding and then I’ll leave,” he says, “Thank you for your help.”
“Pero, that’s dirty, you can’t put that around your hand,” you exclaim as he holds out the rag to you.
“It will do,” he scowls, “it’s what I usually do.”
“You’ll get an infection, please, let me put a proper bandage on it,” you point to the sterile compress and Pero’s eyes narrow as if he’s considering a potential risk, before he glances back at the door where the heavy rain can still be heard. Then he nods, looking at you again, dropping the dirty strip from his shirt on the edge of the sink.
It doesn’t take you long to bandage up his hand, wrapping surgical tape around the back to keep the compress in place. As you turn his hand over and press down the tape you can’t help but notice the many faded scars that marr his skin, and you run your finger lightly over a long one.
“A knife,” Pero mutters, and you look up at him. “A thief tried to take my coins and he had a hidden blade. It was a nasty fight.”
“It looks like you’ve been in a lot of fights, Pero,” you say, touching an uneven scar from something slashed across his wrist.
He doesn’t reply to that, just grunts again and pulls his hand back, getting back up from the stool. But he doesn’t get far, on unsteady legs he stumbles across the floor and puts his uninjured hand out to balance himself, briefly closing his eyes.
“Careful,” you say, reaching out to steady him, your hands on his wet shirt, as he suddenly sinks down to the floor, his back against one of the shelves, “you’re very pale, maybe you need a few minutes rest?”
Pero shakes his head with another grunt, “No, I should..” he tries to stand up again but sinks back down, his eyes closing as he tips his head to his chest, breathing hard through his nose.
“At least change your wet shirt, please,” you say, grabbing the dry hoodie from the bench and holding it out to him and Pero opens his eyes, “you’ll feel better if you’re dry.”
He regards the hoodie for a few seconds before giving in, taking it from you. You turn your back to give him some privacy and you hear him tug the shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor with a wet sound.
“Thank you,” comes his rough voice from behind a few seconds later and you glance over your shoulder. The navy hoodie fits him and he’s leaned back against the wall again with his eyes closed, his skin still paler than you suspect that it should be.
You open one of your storage cupboards and pull out a container, bringing it over to Pero together with a bottle of water. Kneeling down in front of him you peel open the lid and hold it out to him.
“Here, your blood sugar is probably low, maybe a bit of shock, have a couple of these,” you offer him and Pero opens his eyes enough to see the cookies that are starting to spread their chocolate scent. They widen further when he sees them clearly, darting up to look at you before he tentatively takes one and flips it over in his hand. He smells it and then takes a careful bite.
His reaction flips a switch in your head, a light bulb moment, as his eyebrows furrow at the flavor. His tongue comes out, almost as if he’s about to spit the cookie out, before he grimaces and swallows, eyeing the rest of the cookie with suspicion.
“Pero…” you ask hesitantly, “where are you from?”
He looks up at you for a beat before he answers, running his tongue over his lips.
“Asturias,” he says, “but I haven’t been back in many years.”
“In Spain?”
“España, sí,” he nods, eyeing the cookie in his hand, “This…this food is very…sweet?” He looks up at you again and almost looks apologetic as he brings it to his mouth again.
“You don’t like it?” you ask, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it, maybe it’s too sweet for your palate.”
“I’ve never tasted something so sweet before, I’m not sure…” he trails off, taking a small bite again.
The penny drops, impossible as it may seem, but his clothes, his wide eyed reactions to your kitchen, the fear and mistrust, the pieces seem to fit together, and you sink down on the floor in front of Pero, the container of cookies forgotten next to you.
“Pero…” you begin again and he tilts his head as you seem to study the pattern on his well worn leather boots, “A-are you…do you…w-where…- “
“I’m not from your time,” he interrupts your stuttering question, holding your eyes as you meet his gaze, your eyes are the ones that widen this time.
“How?” is all you manage and he shrugs.
“I do not know, a curse, a blessing, just chance?” he shrugs again, “All I remember is darkness and then bright lights, as bright as the sun, but much closer, a terrible noise, and then I ran.”
“Here?”
He shakes his head, “Not first, I think that was yesterday, or maybe two days ago, I found somewhere to hide, a small tunnel, but the rain made the water rise too high so I was forced to leave.”
“You must be hungry, Pero,” you suddenly realize, “how long has it been since you last ate properly?”
“Two days, maybe three,” he says, rubbing his good hand over his belly that rumbles at the mention of proper food.
“I haven’t got anything but hang on, I’ll order something,” you go to stand up when you realize he won’t understand what that means. Your head suddenly reels with the implication of having Pero in your kitchen.
“I mean, I’ll make someone bring food, but don’t worry, I won’t say anything about you,” you hurry to add as you see him shake his head.
“Thank you,” he sighs, looking relieved, “I don’t know what dark forces brought me here, but it doesn’t feel safe.”
“Just wait here, I’ll be right back,” you say to him, leaving him sitting on the floor, “You’re safe here, I promise.”
You hurry out to the shop and pull out your phone to place an order through the delivery app when you’re suddenly stumped, what the hell would Pero be most comfortable eating? A stew maybe? Meat, veggies and bread seems like something people have eaten through the centuries, so you quickly scroll through the options and find a local place that offers Boeuf Bourguignon. A rich, hearty stew must be something Pero will be familiar with even if it’s not exactly something he’s eaten before. You quickly place the order and hurry back to the kitchen to find Pero getting to his feet, holding on to the shelf for support.
“Someone is coming over with a meat stew, how does that sound?” you ask and Pero nods.
“Thank you,” he replies, letting go of the shelf and standing a big steadier this time.
“I have some bread and butter for you while we wait, it’s stale bread, but it might make you feel a bit better.”
“Thank you”, he says again and you go to your big walk-in fridge and pull it open. Pero follows you cautiously and peers into the large space.
“It’s cold?” he says, taking a tentative step into the fridge.
“It’s a special cold storage,” you explain, “it stays cold even though it’s warm outside, the food stays fresh longer in here.”
Pero nods as if he understands exactly what you mean but you can tell by the way his eyes scan the shelves that he’s distracted by the produce that lines them.
“Would you like to try something?” you ask, “Maybe some fruit?”
He looks over at you and nods carefully, as if he’s uncertain if he should say yes and you’re suddenly hit by how much mistrust he holds on to. Even though he’s a little bit more relaxed now than when he first arrived, it’s clear that he’s not a man used to trusting people easily, and just the simple gesture of accepting the apple you hold out to him seems to test his instinctual reaction to say no.
You take the butter from the shelf, fish one of yesterday’s loaves from the bread basket and slice it up on the counter while Pero slowly walks around your kitchen, the apple you notice, is already gone.
“Here, eat this, slowly, it should help you feel better.”
“Thank you,” he replies again, taking the thick piece of bread and carefully smelling it just like he had with the cookie. You cut yourself a slice and spread butter on it before biting in to it and jumping up on the work bench surface.
“It’s not poison, I promise,” you wink at Pero and he scowls back at you, but it’s not intimidating this time, there’s a slight smirk to it as he realizes you’re teasing him.
“I’ve never seen bread this white,” he says, coming over to the bench and heaving himself on to it too, “Bread where I come from is much rougher, this is like something a king would eat I think.”
“It’s just the way the flour is milled and sifted,” you explain, “we make bread the same way now as we’ve always done. Water, flour and salt.”
Pero takes a large bite as you speak and he hums as he chews, “It tastes almost the same,” he says, “I like it.” He takes another big bite and the whole slice disappears within a minute.
“I’m glad you like it,” you smile at him, “I made it, I’m a baker.”
“You’re a baker?” Pero asks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“We still have bakers in our time,” you laugh but Pero shakes his head.
“I thought it would be your husband who baked, I have never met a woman baker.”
“Oh, yeah, I suppose that would’ve been pretty unusual back in your time,” you say, smiling at Pero’s surprise, “Many of the jobs only men did in your days are now done by women too, a lot has changed that way. And I have no husband.”
Pero seems to consider this for a few moments while he eyes the loaf sitting on the counter across the kitchen.
“Do you want another slice?” you ask him and he nods.
“Yes, it was very good bread.”
“Go on then, but remember there’s meat stew on the way so don’t eat too much or you might be sick,” you say and he slides off the workbench and grabs the knife.
“It’s good that you can be a baker too,” he says as he slices the bread, “I’ve seen women be warriors, generals even, why should women not be able to have the same professions as men?”
“You’re pretty progressive, Pero,” you smile, “not even all men nowadays would agree with that.”
“Fools,” he scowls, buttering the slice and coming back over to you, “I’ve seen many strange things in your time, but nothing that a woman couldn’t do as well as a man. The general I knew would scare the wits out of the men I’ve seen here so far.”
“What year are you from, Pero?” you ask and he shrugs, it seems to be his standard response when he has no answer.
“I do not know, I’m a sell-sword, a mercenary, what year the priest says it is doesn’t matter to someone like me.”
You think back to your high school history lessons, chewing your bread as you try to figure out how to pinpoint what age he might be from.
“Are there any big events you know of that happened in your time?” you ask and Pero furrows his brow for a few seconds before he shakes his head.
“I’m not educated, I can write my name, read a little, but that’s it,” he shrugs again, swallowing the last piece of bread, “I follow whoever pays my wages and don’t ask questions.”
His face softens slightly as he sees the disappointment in your face and he turns towards you, “I apologize, these things are not important to me, but I wish I’d paid more attention to them now, so that I could tell you more about where I’m from.”
“It’s alright, Pero,” you say, giving him a smile, “I’m just curious, just tell me to stop asking so many questions.”
He actually chuckles at that, only the second time you’ve heard him laugh and it makes you feel warm as his face transforms into a beautiful smile.
“Ask as many as you want, you’re feeding me, you patched me up, you’ve shown much more kindness than a broken sell-sword could ever expect. The least I can do is to feed your curious mind.”
Now it’s your turn to shrug, “It was nothing, you were hurt, I couldn’t leave you out in the rain, anyone would’ve done the same.”
Pero tilts his head to the side and regards you with wonder, “Maybe your world is very different, querida…” he says as he tentatively reaches out and carefully wraps the fingers of his good hand around yours, “but in my world, I don’t know anyone who would’ve looked at my scarred face and let me in.”
He gently lifts your hand and brings the back of it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there, before holding it to his heart.
“Thank you.”
You feel heat rush to your face as he places your hand back on the bench, letting go of it as you fumble for something to say and coming up with nothing, just biting your lip and nodding as he continues to look at you, his face unreadable but gentle.
“What do you bake, apart from bread?” he asks after what feels like an eternity and your brain still hasn’t kicked back into gear, the warm mark of his chapped lips still on the back of your hand.
“Ahh…most things,” you stumble, “cakes for weddings, for feasts, cookies and pastries, anything sweet really, if people want it.” A thought suddenly hits you, “Do you have a favorite, Pero? Maybe something I could make for you here?”
He looks taken back by the question, starting by shaking his head almost on impulse, “No, I never had cake, or sweet things, maybe just a simple fruit pie if I had coin, but it has been rare. Although….” he suddenly looks up, his words lost in thought as he looks at you as if you know the answer to what he's thinking of.
“There was a baker in my hometown, he was not from Asturias. He made sweet bread from Albion, with dried fruit and honey,” Pero licks his lips at the memory and grins, “that was the best bread I ever had, he would give me the scraps if he burnt a loaf and even burnt, it tasted like heaven.”
“Albion,” you hum, thinking out loud, “that’s the old name for Britain, so maybe he made something like barmbrack, or bara brith…” you slide off the workbench and go over to the bookshelf and run your finger along the spines of the books. “But what dried fruit would they have then? Raisins? Maybe…the Romans made wine in Britannia after all, the climate was warmer… maybe apricots? Cherries?” You pull out a well worn copy of The Love of Cooking, and take it back to the work bench as Pero regards you with a curious grin. As you flip the book open his eyes go wide as he sees the colored photographs of food, the fine print in neat rows.
“This is a book?” he asks, carefully sliding his fingertips over the page and you nod.
“They invented a machine that can make copies of what we write very fast, so they’re cheap to buy nowadays,” you explain as you flip back to the index, looking up barmbrack, “I think this recipe might be similar to what you’re familiar with,” you say, finding the right page and pointing to a dark loaf filled with dried fruit.
“Can you make it?” Pero asks, his eyes locked on the image as if he wants to chew on the paper and you smile.
“It’s a pretty fast thing to make, if I make it now it’ll be done by the time we’ve had our dinner.” Pero’s eyes are still glued to the page, a hungry expression on his face.
“I would very much like that,” he says, tearing his gaze away and grinning at you, “Put me to work, what can I do?”
“You want to help?”
“Of course, teach me how to bake, mistress baker,” he winks and again his usually scowling face is transformed, a warm smile lighting up his sharp features as his brown eyes soften. You smile back at him, marveling at how he transforms from a sourly looking soldier to a handsome man when he lets himself smile.
“Ok then, Pero,” you grin, “time to learn a new profession.”
Under your direction Pero pulls out the necessary ingredients and tools, making comments about the flimsy quality of the metal in your kitchen.
“This would not hold up in a kitchen or on a battlefield,” he remarks, holding up one of your stainless steel bowls, “It would melt over a fire and even a child’s arrow would pierces this, I’m sure.”
“It’s stronger than you think,” you laugh, setting a bag of dried cherries down on the workbench and giving one to Pero to try. He sucks on it, smiling at the familiar flavor, and nods in approval as he goes in search of a knife. He finds your custom chef knife, your name stamped along the blade, and this is the only item that gets his commendation.
“This is a good weapon, querida, if any more strange men turn up at your door. You should keep it on you at all times,” he says, effortlessly spinning the knife in his hand, testing its weight and balance.
“I hope no more strange men come tumbling into my backyard,” you laugh, “what would I do with you all?”
“If fate lets me, I’ll stay here and keep you safe, just feed me,” he grins, coming to stand next to you and placing the knife on the workbench.
“That sounds like a good deal for me, Pero,” you smile back at him and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs, a beautiful sound in your kitchen, his rough voice smoothed out by the warm vibrations.
“Querida, even if you only fed me your bread and butter, I would be the winner in that deal; a full belly and a beautiful mistress? What man could ask for more?”
He sees the way your shy smile reaches your eyes before you look down at your hands on the recipe book. Heat creeps up your neck and you have to squeeze your lips together to stop a silly grin from splitting your face open. You can feel Pero’s smiling eyes on you as he waits for your reply, and when he wraps his fingers around your hand on the book, you almost jump, his grip a gentle touch. The fingers on his other hand find your chin, softly bringing your face up to look up at him.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your chin as your heart rate picks up and you part your lips.
“Now put me to work,” he smiles, “So I can have this fruit bread again.”
You draw a deep breath, your heart fluttering in your chest as you pull your eyes away from Pero and down to the recipe.
“S-so…ok, we need tea, I’ll make that if you fill this with flour and put it in the bowl. Then crack an egg in there too.”
“Your wish is my command, mistress,” Pero replies and your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t help the wide smile and it makes Pero grin as you fumble for a saucepan to fill with water.
He completes the tasks you set him, and then comes to stand next to you as you spoon tea leaves into the kettle and pour the boiling water over it.
“I visited China once,” he says, “They drank black tea, it’s strange to see it here too.”
“This tea comes from China, we started importing it a long time ago. I’m going to soak the fruit in the tea, it really should sit overnight but it works like this too, just a bit less flavor.”
What Pero said suddenly hits you, and you turn to look at him as he stirs the dried fruit through the tea, “You went to China? That must’ve been such a long journey?”
Pero nods, his face falling back to his default scowl as he pulls his eyebrows together at the memory.
“It was very long, dusty and dangerous. Both there and going home, I’ll tell you about it someday when you know me better, but you’ll still think I’m a liar, it’s a hard story to believe.”
“Sounds like it was an adventure,” you reply and Pero shrugs, shaking his head a little.
“A storyteller would call it an adventure, I would call it a terrifying nightmare,” he grumbles, taking the fruit back to the workbench and changing the subject, “I can’t read your book, what should I do now?”
You pass him a loaf tin, “Smear this with butter and I’ll mix the rest of the ingredients together.”
Pero nods and takes the butter in his good hand and gets to work while you mix the dough. You leave out some of the spices that would be too foreign to Pero you think, and reduce the sugar a bit. From the corner of your eye you see Pero watching you work, and as you mix the fruit into the dough you glance up at him and give him a small smile. He looks lost in thought for a moment, before he smiles back at you, a much softer looking man as he almost seems to be shy, handing you the prepared tin.
“You look very capable,” he says, taking a few small steps closer to look at the dough, “more capable than any baker I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you, Pero,” you reply, smiling to yourself as you pick up the bowl to tip the dough into the tin.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” you exclaim and put the bowl back on the counter, hurrying over to your small desk while Pero looks surprised. From a box you remove a gold ring and quickly wash it in the sink. Bringing it back to Pero you hold it up.
“It’s tradition to mix items into the barmbrack, some things for bad luck, some for good luck. But I prefer adding only things for good luck so I usually add this ring. It was my grandmother’s wedding ring and she was a baker too,” you flip the ring over and show the date written on the inside of the ring, “June sixth, nineteen forty-one, her wedding day.”
“It will bring luck?” Pero asks and you nod.
“Whoever finds it in the cake will have good luck,” you reply, “Well, as it’s a ring it’s meant to mean that you’re getting married within a year, but I prefer to think of it as good luck.”
“I’ve heard of superstitions like this one before,” Pero says, “I don’t know if I believe in them, but it’s probably not wise to ignore them.”
“My thoughts exactly,” you smile as you toss the ring into the dough and mix it again, “I’m just going to put the dough in the tin and then bake it.”
You’re interrupted by the doorbell on the front door, and you look towards the shop.
“That’s our food I think, take over here and I’ll go pick it up,” you say, handing the bowl to Pero. You hurry to the door and tip the delivery guy, bringing back a bag of food. Peros is carefully patting down the dough with serious concentration and it makes you smile to see him looking so focused on his job.
“It looks great, Pero,” you say and he looks up, giving you a quick smile. You’re struck by the difference a little bit of time with him has made, his distrust has disappeared, replaced by curious looks and grins. You realize again how handsome he is as he stands up and holds out the tin to you, his deep brown eyes warm instead of cautious, and the near permanent downward turn of his mouth has been replaced by the soft smile he gives you as you take the tin from him.
“Thanks,” you say and hand him the bag, “There’s food in there, get us set up while I put this in the oven, then we can eat.”
Pero inhales deeply as the scent reaches his nose and his stomach growls as he hastily grabs the bags and looks for a spot to sit.
The oven is ready to go so you just put the barmbrack in and turn back to Pero, grabbing cutlery as you go. He’s on the floor, leaning against the bookshelf again, and is unpacking the food. Sinking down next to him, you groan at the relief of getting off your feet and sitting down. You tip your head back against the bookshelf and let slip a deep sigh that turns into a yawn. Pero chuckles next to you as he peels the lid off one of the containers.
“You’re yawning but I’m the one who spent a night inside a cramped tunnel,” he says and you clamp your hand over your mouth, giggling.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day, I get up very early to bake every morning,” you say, stifling another yawn as Pero picks up one of the containers with stew, looking at it with hungry eyes.
“It smells incredible,” he says, taking the spoon you hand him.
“Eat, Pero, you look hungry,” you smile and he flashes you a quick grin before digging in.
The stew is good, rich and hearty, with big chunks of meat. Pero demolishes his portion and you get the rest of the loaf of bread, watching him tear chunks out of it to mop up the sauce. You’re sitting close together, his shoulder against yours, the warmth of his body a comfortable presence against your arm as you eat in silence. Pero groans as he does so, a deep moan escaping him when he scrapes up the sauce.
“Feeling better?” you ask as he swallows the last piece of bread and sets the container down on the floor. He nods and tips his head back towards the bookshelf with a contented sigh.
“Yes, much better, it was the best stew I’ve ever had,” he says, tilting his head to look over at you, “A full belly and your company, you’ve cured me.”
“Happy I could help you,” you smile at him, “you seemed a bit lost.”
“I still am,” he says, his eyes slipping down to your lips, almost as if he doesn’t notice he’s done it, until he catches himself and snaps them back up and meets your eyes, “But I feel…safe, I think, here. With you.”
His voice is low, softer than before, a quiet rasp in the silent kitchen. The rain is still rushing down outside and the white noise wraps you in a bubble as he carefully moves closer. You feel his hand, rough and calloused, come up and gently stroke your face, his eyes watching his fingers trail along the edge of your jaw, cupping your cheek and letting his thumb run over your bottom lip.
“So soft,” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips as you close your eyes.
The kiss is gentle, featherlight, but he stays close, pressing his lips against yours again and again, and you relish in the hushed words he whispers in another language, praise you can’t understand. But the way his lips never leave yours for more than a second, his reverent tone in every phrase, makes you feel cherished as his words wrap around you.
When he lingers against your lips, you bring your hand up and touch his cheek, slipping your hand around his neck, holding him close so that he knows he can stay. You hear a rumble in his chest as he pulls you in closer, pulling you over his lap, his arm coming around your waist to keep steady, the other still cupping your cheek. You test his mouth, the slight parting of his lips where his soft bottom lip has a divot, and he groans, pulling you impossibly closer. His hair is still damp when you curl your fingers into it, still dirty from two days of wherever he managed to seek shelter when he first fell into this time. But under it, he’s warm and solid, his mouth hungry as he opens up and lets his tongue taste yours.
Pero grows bolder as you guide him, pulling your leg over his lap so that you straddle him. As your hands caress his hair and explore the firm muscles of his shoulders, he seeks out the edge between your shirt and your trousers. The skin there is soft and smooth and he runs his hands over your waist, mumbling into your mouth between kisses. He pulls back a fraction and lets his hands slide high up on your back, under your shirt, pressing you into his chest.
“Hermosa…” he whispers, “you’re so soft, your skin is like silk under my rough hands, so soft, warm, I’ve never…” he trails off, reaching up to claim your mouth again and you bend down to meet him. You can feel him grow hard under you, he’s holding back from rutting up, panting harder as his fingers dig into your waist. Gently you pull back from him and lean your forehead against his.
“Pero…Pero…Pero…” you whisper, catching your breath as his grip on your loosens, his hands resuming their soft caresses up and down your back.
“Querida,” he smiles, pulling back a little so that he can look at you, his dark eyes warm now, softer than ever, as he brings up a hand to cup your cheek again.
“Come home with me tonight, I can’t send you away to sleep in a tunnel again,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his fingers trace across your lips.
“You would let me?” he asks quietly, “You trust me, a stranger?” His hand goes still on your cheek and you look at him again.
“You’re not a stranger anymore, Pero, I trust you. If you trust me to not steal from you that is,” the last thing you say with a small grin, and Pero laughs, a deep rumble as he wraps his arms around you again.
“You’ve already stolen from me, querida,” he smiles, “you think all these kisses were free?”
“I’m paying in food and more kisses,” you tease him, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose and he wrinkles it, his shoulders jumping as he laughs again.
“Steal all my kisses, hermosa, you can have every single one.”
Somewhere behind you the oven timer goes off and Pero stiffens for a second before he relaxes under you again.
“Only the oven telling us the barmbrack is done,” you smile, pushing yourself off Pero’s lap and standing up. He holds out his hand for you to grab, and you pull him to his feet too.
“Feed me,” he smiles, snaking an arm around your waist as you turn the oven off and open the door.
“It needs to cool a bit first, I’ll put it in the fridge,” you wriggle out of his arms with a giggle as he tries to hold on to your shirt. When you close the fridge door behind you, the barmbrack safely on the shelf, he’s behind you again, bending his head to your shoulder.
“Are you really letting me stay with you tonight?” he asks, his voice betraying that he still can’t quite believe that you’re trusting him.
“Pero,” you reply, turning around and taking his hand, “I was scared when I first saw you outside, you looked frightening. But you also looked scared, like you needed help, and something told me I could trust you. And you’ve done nothing to make me regret that. I trust you.”
He looks at you for a few moments, uncertainty flitting across his face, “Not since I became a man has anyone seen my face and trusted me like that. No one but you.”
“I’m sorry, Pero,” you reply but he shakes his head, suddenly crowding you, making you walk back towards the work bench.
“If you’re the only one to trust me, I think that will be enough,” he smiles, his eyes soft again, the uncertainty gone as he puts his hands on your waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter, stepping in between your thighs. You feel him push his calloused hands under your shirt again, moving over your back, softly kneading at your curves as you pull him closer, making him bend his head to yours.
“I trust you, Pero,” you mumble, tracing your fingers over his face, his short, uneven beard, the sharp curve of his nose, carefully moving up to gently caress the scar across his eye. He closes his eyes as you touch it, mapping the way something sharp has cut across his eyebrow, down onto his cheek.
Pero’s hands have gone still on your waist, warm palms gripping your flesh as you reach up and press your lips to the spot over his eyebrow where the scar begins, moving your mouth further down, a brief whisper against his eyelid and then a firm kiss at the top of his cheek, the jagged point of the old injury.
“I think whatever brought me here was a blessing,” he mumbles and you nod as he opens his eyes again to look at you.
“I’m glad you found your way here, Pero,” you reply, moving your hands up to cradle his face, finding his lips against yours again.
The rain continues outside, flashes of bright light shining in through the window split seconds before rolls of thunder move in. But neither of you notice, lost in the sensation of warm hands and soft lips exploring something new. Pero buries his face against your neck, inhaling deeply as you wrap your fingers around his curls. You can feel his lips leave small, wet kisses all along your neck, rubbing the cool tip of his nose against the soft spot under your ear where your pulse flutters.
“Pero,” you mumble, pressing a kiss against the tip of his ear, and he lifts his head, meeting your eyes with a warm smile, making you kiss his lips again, losing several more minutes as you both savor the moment.
With a giggle you finally pull away a little as he chases your lips with a protest, “Let me cut the barmbrack and then we go home,” you say and he pulls you off the counter.
“I will take it as payment for all the kisses you have stolen,” he mumbles, pressing another one to your mouth as you laugh into it.
The barmbrack still holds some warmth when you cut it, and the rich smell that it emits as the slices fall makes you salivate and Pero groans next to you, his hand shooting out to grab the thickest piece.
“Wait, we need butter on it too,” you laugh, slapping his eager hand away and he repays you by sinking his teeth into your neck instead, playfully biting the soft skin.
“It smells too good, querida,” he grumbles as you spread butter on the slice and hand it to him.
“Impatient,” you smile at him as he takes a first giant bite of the barmbrack, grinning at you around the slice. You butter your own slice and Pero hums, muttering his praise between bites until his teeth clink against the ring.
“Oh, you got the ring in the first slice!” you exclaim, “That’s really lucky!”
Pero carefully spits the gold ring into his palm, “I feel like my night has already been lucky,” he smiles at you, holding out the ring for you to take it.
“No, wash it off and then keep it, until we make a new barmbrack. It’s your lucky charm for now.”
“Are you certain?” he asks, rinsing the crumbs and butter off the heavy gold ring at the sink, and holding out to you again.
“Absolutely, you found it, it’s yours for now,” you say, finishing your own slice as Pero slips the ring into a pouch on his belt and eyes the rest of the loaf, “Do you want another slice, Pero?” you ask with a smile and he grins back at you.
“It reminds me of the one I had as a child, but it tastes much better. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says, coming to stand behind you as you prepare a second thick slice for him and wrap the rest of the barmbrack to take home.
“Thank you, I’m glad you like it,” you smile at him and he takes the slice.
“Querida, I love it,” he says, smiling back at you, “it’s almost as good as your kisses…” he quirks his eyebrows and leans in to capture your lips with his again, making you open your mouth to his eager tongue.
“Still the best thing,” he mumbles as he pulls back a little, both you catching your breath.
“Let’s go home,” you whisper back at him, “I’m just going to make sure everything is locked up, we’ll go out the back way."
He nods and you reluctantly disentangle yourself from him and walk out to the main shop, checking the door and the alarm. When you come back, Pero is sucking on his fingers, the second slice disappeared as fast as the first and he grins back at you as he notices your look.
You flick off the main lights, Pero’s eyes widening in surprise as the kitchen is cast into darkness, and lead him to the backdoor and let him out. The rain is only a drizzle now but the thunder is still rumbling through the sky and Pero looks up as he goes down the stairs, waiting for you to set the alarm and lock the door.
A bright flash of lightning cuts across the back yard, followed by a loud clap of thunder that makes you jump and let out a yelp.
“Oh shit, that scared me,” you laugh, locking the door and turning around, pocketing the key, “the thunder must be right above us.”
But the yard in front of you is as empty as every other night. No trace of Pero, only the dim light of the street lamps and the light patter of rain drops.
Your heart clenches in your chest, you can still feel his lips on yours.
It’s not until a week later that you see the article. A patron has left a newspaper behind and as you clear the table, a headline catches your eye.
Modern ring found in 11th century grave
Archeologists at a dig in Sevilla, Spain, were surprised when excavating an 11th century grave. The site is being prepared for a new residential area and the grave is being moved to a nearby churchyard. The remains of an 11th century man was found in the grave, and around his neck was a thin gold chain, also 11th century in design. What surprised the archeologist was the modern gold wedding band hanging on the chain, with the date “June sixth, nineteen forty-one” engraved on the inside.
“The grave was undisturbed, and the chain was intact, clearly placed on the man in the grave either while he was still alive or before he was buried,” said chief archaeologist Maria Ruiz. “It’s impossible, of course, for a man from the 11th century to be in possession of a 20th century ring, but at the moment we have no explanation as to how the ring ended up in the grave with him.”
Part Ten
Some author notes here at the end too; I don't think it's canon that Pero is from Asturias, but Tovar is an Asturian name and I have a personal connection to the region so it felt right.
I have no idea if barmbrack was a thing in 11th century Europe, the earliest sources are from the 18th century. But it's bread with fruit, seems doable in any age really. If you've never had it, give it a try, it's a very easy recipe and it goes amazing with butter and a cup of tea.
Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers
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CHARLIEEE AHAHAHAAAA
thank you for allowing me the chance to give you all my depraved thoughts. my request is for mr. joel miller, obv.
i’m craving a good soft!dom with some daddy kink. i know this is picking way more than one HAHA, but maybe some blindfold and restraint action… a bit of sensory deprivation scene, if you will. maybe it’s readers first time trying it, but of course she trusts joel to take care of her.
bonus points for some fluffy aftercare.
MYA BESTIE SAY LESS. I GOTCHU. I SEE YOU. I LOVE YOU. Also sorry but this might actually be trash... idk I'm feeling weird about it but the longer I look at it the worse it gets so HERE WE GO.
Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader
Word Count | 1.8k
Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. We've got soft Dom!Joel, restraints, blindfolds, daddy kink, teasing, unprotected PiV sex and a spattering of sweet aftercare.
Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I’m accepting requests through July 15th.
“That too tight?” Joel’s gruff voice is speaking from above you.
You wriggle your wrists. There’s still plenty of slack that you can move them about a little, but enough to keep you tied to the headboard, just as you wanted. You can already feel the roughness of the rope scratching the skin of your wrists, but at this point you’re beyond caring. You’d asked for this, this was what you wanted, and so far, Joel is delivering everything you’d wanted.
“Perfect,” You squeak out, looking up to find him staring down at you expectantly, “Daddy, sorry, it’s perfect, daddy.”
“Good girl,” He murmurs, letting his fingers run a little way down the bare skin of your arms before he’s pulling away, standing at the foot of the bed in just his boxers, “I’m gonna take real good care of you, sweet girl,” He’s speaking as he bends to where his backpack is at the end of the bed, pulling out a strip of material that looks like it was a tie in its previous life, he’s rounding back to you on the bed, “Lift your head up for me a little,” He instructs, you do as you’re told and he’s wrapping the tie around your head to cover your eyes, “Still okay?”
“Still okay.” You speak.
“Good,” You can’t see him anymore, but you can feel the movement on the mattress as he stands again, “Anything gets too much, you use that word, you remember it?”
“Red.”
His voice is further away when he responds, “Good girl.” Then you feel his calloused palm grip your ankle, the sudden touch that you weren’t expecting makes you jump, which causes him to chuckle low in his chest.
You can feel the bottom of the mattress dip as Joel kneels between your ankles, he’s got a hand on each and he’s dragging his palms slowly up the skin of your legs. Asking to be restrained and blindfolded had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now you were aching to reach out and touch him, coax his mouth up to the apex of your thighs, to show him what you really wanted, as if he didn’t already know.
When Joel reaches your knees, you can feel his hands gripping the bend of your legs, pushing them back as you feel the bed dip more where he’s lying down now. You can feel his breath on your pussy, already wanton and aching from where he’d kissed you breathless and stripped you down ever so slowly before tying you up. You buck your hips up towards the source of the hot breath, receiving a sharp squeeze to the skin he’s holding.
“Now, now,” He warns, “That’s not how a good girl behaves, is it?”
You grumble, “No daddy,” You acquiesce, “I’m sorry.”
“You’ll get everything you want, sweet girl,” He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, facial hair scratching at your delicate skin, “You’ve just gotta be patient, okay?”
Your response is a moan as you settle your hips back on the bed. Joel presses another soft kiss to the inside of your thigh before he’s pulling his mouth away. You’re expecting him to move to the other side, much like he always does, but the next time he kisses you, it’s on your tummy, then his lips are pressing a kiss to the soft curls at your mound, then moments later they’re back at your thighs.
It's hard to keep up with, you don’t know where his lips are going to touch next, and it’s got your chest heaving and your body writhing. He knows where you want his lips the most, he can feel the way you’re trying to subtly move yourself, so his mouth is where you want him. But he’s not done. The control he has over you in this moment is overwhelming and he’s going to make you wait as long as he can bear before he gives in. He continues to pepper soft kisses across every inch of your skin, reveling in the way that your whines and gasps are coming a mile a minute.
“Joel, please,” You beg, “I can’t take it anymore.”
“Poor baby,” He coos softly when he’s at the skin between the valley of your breasts, “So needy for me, aren’t you?” He’s trailing his lips down your abdomen, letting his tongue run wet trails over your skin until he’s back between your legs, “Does my sweet girl need my mouth here?” You can hear him ask, before you can feel the pad of what you think is his thumb running lightly along the seam of your pussy.
“Yes, daddy,” You groan at finally feeling him where you want him the most, “I need you.”
“Alright baby,” You can feel his breath fanning the skin there now, “You’ve been so good for me, so patient, let me make you feel good.”
You can feel his rough hands spreading the lips of your pussy, baring your slick center to him, before he presses a singular open-mouthed kiss to your clit. The feeling of him finally putting his lips on you is ecstasy. One small touch of his mouth and you’re aflame, skin prickling with pleasure. He goes back a second time, just another kiss to your clit, but this time he finishes with a flick of his tongue across it and now you’re letting out an obscene moan from your mouth.
Then, Joel Miller does what Joel Miller does best and devours you. His tongue is inside your pussy, coating his mouth in as much of your slick as he can manage, the pad of his thumb working circles over your clit when his tongue isn’t. He can tell all the teasing has you worked up, the way you’re grinding into his tongue and chasing the pressure of his fingers on you. You’ve been a good girl, he decides, he’ll give you what you want.
“Does my sweet girl want to come?” He asks, latching his mouth around your clit to suck, you let his name drop from your lips, “I know she does, go on baby, let go for me.”
He manages another three swipes of his tongue before you’re arching your back off the bed, the rope tightening around your wrists, adding pain to the insane pleasure currently coursing through your body as he works your through the shuddering aftershocks. God, you wish you could see him right now. He always did the same thing, grins up at you with his wet mouth, eyes dark like predator pouncing on prey, as he slinks up to rest between your thighs. You can feel him shift from the bed, thinking he must be taking off his underwear, before there’s that telltale dip in the mattress.
You almost cry with relief when you feel his body press to yours, the broad expanse of his chest is pressed to yours, you can feel the stiffness of his cock sliding through your folds, nudging at your clit as he settles himself above you. You can feel his palms resting on the bed on either side of your head, then you can feel his breath fanning across your face as he kisses you. You can taste yourself on him, his tongue in your mouth, mixing with your own, as you drink yourself down, then he’s dragging his perfect nose across your cheek to rest next to your ear.
“Still okay?” He whispers, letting his tongue jut out to lick across your earlobe.
“Still okay.” You confirm, tilting your head so he can press kisses to your neck.
“Gonna fuck you so good baby, you ready?”
“So ready,” You whine as you feel him start to slide his thick cock into your aching cunt, “Feel so good, daddy.”
“Yeah, that’s right sweet girl,” You can hear him panting into your ear as he bottoms out, “Daddy fucks you real good, doesn’t he?”
All you want is to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and grip onto him as he fucks into you. Want to be able to lean up and press kisses to the sweaty skin of his chest. Grip the meat of his ass to bring him deeper inside of you.
“Look so fuckin’ pretty for me baby,” He chokes out, as he picks up his pace, “All spread out and takin’ me like a good girl.”
As his thrusts get harder, you start grinding your hips up to meet him. You want this man to give you everything he has. You’ve given him everything you have in this moment, most of all the unbridled trust you have in him, that he’ll tie you up and use you like this, the kind of trust you’ve never had with anyone before.
“Want you to come for me, daddy.” You let out a moan as he uses one hand to tilt your hips so he’s hitting that incredible spot inside you. If your eyes were open, you’d be able to see stars.
“Fuck baby- I’m so close.” You can feel his pace getting sloppy, can hear the way his gasps and groans are speeding up.
Then, he’s pulling out of you, just as he always does. You can hear him grunting and the slap of his skin as he fists his cock, before the warmth of his cum is spreading across your lower tummy. You feel his big palm come to rest on your hip as he’s heaving in air to his lungs. Then, you can feel him clambering over you and taking the blindfold off.
“Hey pretty lady,” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your nose once the material over your eyes is gone, “Let me untie you.”
His fingers make light work of untying the knots he’d made in the rope. You’re grateful for the relief of the scratchy material being gone. He leaves you on the bed, pressing a kiss to your temple before he leaves the room, coming back moments later with a glass of water and a washcloth, which he uses first to soothe between your legs before wiping away his cum from your skin.
“Get under the covers,” He encourages once he’s pulled the duvet back, letting you slide in first before he’s getting in as well, pulling you to his chest, “They sore?” He asks when he notices the red marks along your wrists.
“A little.” You reply honestly, watching intently as he takes one of your hands in his, bringing your wrist to his mouth before he’s peppering soft and gentle kisses around it like a bracelet. He does the same to the other wrists, promising to pick some salve up from the general store in town when he’s out in the morning.
“Did you like it?” He asks, lips mumbling into the top of your hair.
You’re sleepy, struggling to keep your eyes open, but you tilt your head up to him, “Yeah, I liked it,” You smile, “Liked it a lot, but I still think I prefer to watch you when you come for me.”
#Joel Miller#Joel Miller smut#Joel Miller fic#Joel Miller fanfic#Joel Miller fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us hbo#tlou#tlou hbo#tlou fic#tlou smut#tlou fanfiction#Joel Miller x you#Joel Miller x reader#Joel Miller x female reader#Joel Miller x f!reader#Pedro Pascal#Joel Miller Pedro Pascal#PSSC
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Idk if your requests are open rn, but if they're not I apologize. I was wondering how you think The Fellowship would react to their youngest member (someone a little younger than Pippin, like around 20) being incredibly prone to injury but also having a really high pain tolerance. Like they keep falling off things and getting hurt but are just like "Don't fuss over me" and the others are just like hyperventilating because they're already like a little sibling to them so there is PANIC in this fellowship tonight
Source: I fell off a swingset and either severely bruised or fractured me hip :)
The Fellowship x clumsy!reader headcanons
author's note: first of all, i am so sorry it took me this long to answer this - life was just.. a lot and i was trying to stay afloat. then, i hope you are doing okay! and haven't hurt yourself more since you sent this in - please be careful & treat yourself gently 🩷 last but not least: i hope i was able to do you justice & you enjoy it :)
warnings: reader falling/stumbling/hitting their head/getting hurt in general, mention of blood, mention of food, please let me know if i forgot something!
word count: 1.6k
edit is mine, pics are from pinterest :)
Frodo: I think Frodo is actually the one who would understand you the best. I mean, he is the ring-bearer and everyone is always so worried about him and the quest and it’s understandable. I mean, he has a lot of responsibility. But sometimes, he feels a bit suffocated by the way everyone is fussing over him, wanting to keep him warm and well fed and safe. So, whenever something happens to you, he would give you some space first – waiting if you ask for help on your own. If you don’t, he’d make sure that you are not hurt. And then, he’d trust your answer. After all, you know your body and its limits best. If you say you are okay, he will simply focus on the quest again. If you do need help however, he will make sure to inform the others so you can get the help you need. Maybe this is something you could actually bond over. Because you’d treat him the same way – not like a baby, but like a friend.
Gandalf: Since you are the youngest of the group, he would feel very responsible for you. Not as much as Aragorn, but very close behind. Whenever you fall or hurt yourself, the wizard notices immediately. In an instant, he is by your side, helps you up and looks over you from head to toe, making sure you don’t have some big gashing wound or bones sticking out. Maybe I am wrong, but I do think, he would scold you a bit. “You really have to watch out”, “Eyes on the ground”, “Be careful”. But, all of these things mean that he cares. He just wants you to be safe and for you to come back in one piece. On the other hand, he is always quite surprised whenever you tell him that you aren’t really hurt. “Maybe it looks like I would be, but I can move my leg just fine – see?” And he would see. It’d take a few moments for you to convince him, but once you have, you will carry on with your journey as if nothing had happened. What you don’t notice is Gandalf eyeing you every once in a while, just to be really sure.
Merry: This hobbit is kind of used to chaos. I mean- he spends most of his time with Pippin. So, if you stumble and roll down some hill, the first thing he would do is laugh. I am talking a full on bending over, belly laugh. Until Gimli or Gandalf or, even worse, Aragorn slightly smack his shoulder before they are running after you, checking you for any injuries. Only then would he realize how dangerous this whole thing was and he’d follow everyone down to you. What he was not expecting however was to find you laughing. “Did I look cool?” Merry would stare at you for a moment before grinning at you, nodding. “Super cool. But are you hurt? Your arm has some scratches from all these twigs laying around.” You were able to stand up immediately, ignoring everyone’s wide eyes, and brushing off the dirt. “Nothing some water and Elrond’s ointment can’t fix.” You two got closer after this.
Pippin: First of all, he is SUPER glad that you, too, came along, because this way he is not the youngest of the group. Sure, he still has to deal with Gandalf’s annoyance at him, but he also has someone by his side who is also full of energy and curious and excited for the quest (at least in the beginning). But because he is the second youngest, he does feel a bit responsible for and protective over you. Like the older one of a pair of twins would. And since you hurt yourself a lot, he is constantly on his toes. Maybe you’d hold hands sometimes? Just so he can realize as early as possible that you’re gonna fall so he can at least try to buffer it. More often than not, it would also end in you two falling ON TOP of one another and that always ends in a fit of giggles. If you fall on your own though and it looked bad, Pippin would immediately call over Aragorn or Gandalf to help you, even when you say you’re fine because you’re his friend and he wants you to be okay.
Sam: Now we all know Sam is a mother hen through and through, even if he denies it. He is, understandably, mostly focused on Frodo and his well-being, but if something happens to you, he is one of the first to help, despite your protests. You stumbled? He will grab your hand and pull you up. Your hands got dirty and bloody from a fall? He will immediately offer his water bottle and help you clean off any dirt. And most importantly: at the end of the day or during breaks, he will carry over some food he cooked (and always an extra portion, too) even though you keep telling him that you can get it yourself and your ankle does not hurt, even if it might have looked like that earlier. “I just want to be sure, my friend. I don’t like the thought of you being in pain.” After a while, you start to accept his treatment.
Gimli: He is not up for discussions. You accidentally ran against a tree? Slipped while getting some water with him? He will not care for what you have to say about the amount of pain you are. You are the youngest of the group and have to be protected. So even if you vehemently try to make him understand that, yes, you might be bleeding a bit or yes, your wrist might be a little bit swollen, he would ignore you and instead call over the others to let them have a look at you. If they decided you were well enough to carry on, he would either carry your backpack (“Stop trying to take this away from me, I will take care of your belongings for now”) or sometimes even you - “Stop fussing around”, “No, you are not too heavy” and “I will carry you around until you are better.” Often times he knows that you would be well enough to walk by yourself, but it makes him feel needed when he can take care of you in some way.
Legolas: I feel like this can go two ways. Sometimes, when he is running in front of everyone else, he is kind of the last to notice whenever you hurt yourself. If he is with the group however, he will almost always be by your side or at least close to keep an eye on you. He likes to listen to you and Pippin talk since it fuels his inner child. One time, he was walking in front of you with Aragorn when you hit your head on a twig, resulting in a small cut on your forehead. You let out a yelp, more out of shock than anything else, but immediately the man and the elf turned around and ran to your aid. You tried to explain that you were fine, but Legolas seeing himself as a wood elf, was already on his way to find the closest stream to fetch some water to clean your wound. Aragorn was telling the others to take a short break when he returned and sat you down. “Stay still, my friend. Even if your cut doesn’t hurt now, it will later if we don’t treat it properly.” He only grinned when you mumbled something in return.
Boromir: Listen, Boromir has a little brother and a shitty father, he knows how to take care of someone while also respecting their boundaries and wishes. No matter how you hurt yourself, the first thing he will do is communicate clearly. Softly grabbing your shoulders, he makes you look at him and asks if you’re hurt or in any pain. If you answer no, he will ask if you need anything or anyone and if you also refuse that, he will make sure that everyone carries on with the journey. However, he will keep an eye on you, more or less secretly. And he will assist you with all the small things during the quest: rolling out your bedroll and placing it close to his own and the halflings’, sneaking you an extra blanket, making you sit close to the fire or refilling your water bottle without you having to ask. He has a soft spot for people younger than him and will never not watch out for you. Can you tell I have a soft spot for him?
Aragorn: Last but definitely not least, the Dúnedain. He is literally one of the best people to have around as a clumsy person - he has the experience from Elrond and the elves in general and knows his way around nature and the wild due to him being a ranger, so he knows how to take care of a wound. Heck, he had to do it to himself countless of times already. However, seeing you getting hurt so often makes his heart skip a beat every time and not in the good way. He worries about you, even if you claim to be fine. No matter how often you fall, stumble, bump against something or hurt yourself in any other way, he is by your side to take care of you. And he will care for you, no matter what you say. When you scraped your knees one time, Aragorn made you sit down on a log and cleaned your wounds before applying some of the ointment Elrond had given them before their departure. Only when he was sure that he had done everything he could, he would allow you to get back up and carry on. You would not get worse on his watch during this journey.
#frodo x reader#gandalf x reader#merry x reader#pippin x reader#samwise x reader#gimli x reader#legolas x reader#boromir x reader#aragorn x reader#the fellowship x reader#the fellowship of the ring#frodo baggins#gandalf#merry brandybuck#pippin took#samwise gamgee#gimli#legolas#boromir#cuddlebug <3#aragorn elessar#aragorn#aragorn my king#lord of the rings#lotr#lotr x reader#tolkien#reader insert
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Okay, so I just read Salvatore and like, I've had this thought in my head for a while now. Kinda hoping for smut? I was thinking of a fan fiction of Leon's birthday. He comes home from the office, most of the lights in the house/apartment are out. There's candles and a birthday cake for him. And since his last name is Kennedy, like JFK, The reader is naked but does what Marilyn Monroe did for JFK'S birthday and sing him happy birthday!
Okay so this request was really fun to write! You just gave me the most plausible excuse to write some more porn, which honestly it's my favorite thing to do. Thank you for the trust and for this amazing idea and request; and I hope you enjoy it ♥
Happy b-day, Agent Kennedy |3.4k
ao3 | masterlist
✦ Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x f! reader
✦ Summary: Its Leon's birthday. He thought you went out for a business trip, when actually, you have a little surprise for him at home.
✦ TW: NSFW MINORS DNI, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, smut, very much porn, soft dom leon, p in v, unprotected, lots of dirty talk, very pornographic, bit of fluff in the end
Leon was staring at his computer screen with little to no concentration at this point. He had spent the entire day trying to form connections between two clues he received on someone that the government had been sure was working for Umbrella. He sighed in frustration and let his body fall behind in the big chair; squeezed his eyes, he was tired.
So tired, the clock hit 8pm and he was still far from home. So tired he apparently forgot a very essential fact: his very own birthday.
Realization fell over him when he unblocked his phone screen and checked the last text you’ve sent that day - a big red heart, after a cute “Happy birthday, bae! I’m sorry for not being there with u. Will compensate. x”. He closed his eyes, mindly damning himself for his workaholic behavior, how could he forget about his own birthday? “Must have lost my fucking mind, it’s drinking day.” He muttered to himself, before getting up and starting to pack up.
As much as he wanted you there with him, he was comprehensive to the fact that it wasn’t your choice not to be: you received an emergency call from work that same day earlier, and needed to pick up the first available plane to Seattle. Leon felt like a needy dog: always near you, always with his hands all over you – always checking you out. He didn’t want to look even more desperate about you and grumble about something out of your control, he understood better than anyone that work came first and foremost in situations like that.
He couldn’t help but feel frustrated to know that you wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got home; a box of beer for each, classic rock playing and you – dancing with you. Eating you. His expectations were put down, he would get drunk alone, listen to his songs alone, and probably find some relief in those polaroids of yours he affectionately kept to himself.
He gathered the documents and papers on the case and put it together in his backpack, turned off the lights and went out; let a deep sigh while going to the elevator towards the parking lot to pick up his car and go home.
━ ⟡ ━
Leon held two boxes of beer along with a bag with a few snacks and a tiny cupcake. He gave a little wave to a neighbor with a small, gentle smile on his face as he fit the key into the door lock and spinned it; to his surprise, the door was already open. His eyebrows instinctively frowned, he felt a cold feeling rising through his spine, he got worried. When working with what he worked with, caution became part of your daily routine; he held the bag in one hand and opened the door slowly, his adrenaline running through his veins, he was ready for anything.
There was a tiny source of light lighting up the spacious and cozy apartment living room; the light trembled through the shadows on the walls; candles. They were everywhere, some white, others red. An intoxicating, delicious smell floated through the air – your smell. Your perfume seemed to be deep-rooted everywhere. There was a small homemade cake on the center table, twenty-nine little candles lit up on top of it.
The agent's alert state disappeared almost instantly, immediate relief swelling his lungs and releasing the most delightful breath of his life, and he couldn't contain the little mischievous smile that formed in the corner of his lips. He took a few steps forward to reach one of the chairs and leave the bags he carried on it, and intended to find you right after.
Before he could even do anything, at the moment his figure gave a generous space between himself and the door, it shut itself behind him; Leon felt a shiver crawling through his spine, his stomach contracted slightly feeling your soft, naughty hands caressing his belly, raising his shirt up just above his navel, just enough so you could touch his skin under it with ease.
Your arms wrapped him, and your body clung to his back. His mind became white, slave to the sensations that you caused him; he could know by the perfect shape of your breasts against his back, and your spiked and delicious nipples, that you were naked. He felt a scratch coming down through his belly, the heat beginning to appear and burning his skin after every touch; your sharp nails scratched the skin of his chest slowly, those hypnotic movements of yours made him feel the blood flowing through his veins increasingly stronger, warmer, needier.
“Happy birthday to you…” You started to sing, your soft low voice tickled against his ear. You had to stand on the tip of your feet to reach him; one of your hands rose through his chest to his neck, causing him to drop his head back. You left a slow kiss followed by a roaring laugh down against his ear. “Happy birthday, Agent Kennedy... Happy birthday, to you,” you finished, the intonation of your voice seemed to move with every screw inside his head.
“Full of surprises aren’t you, babe?” He asked in a rough, low voice, seeming like he could hardly control the excitement that at that point was already apparent in his voice.
Leon closed his eyes with a smile on his face, he licked his lips slowly, already able to feel the resistance of his pants straining against his hardened cock starting to bother him.
“Only for you. A special birthday deserves a special gift, hm?”
You smiled against his skin as you traced gentle, slow kisses against his jaw, his neck, left a bite there. Your hand squeezed slightly around his neck, your nails briefly crawling onto the skin with some traces of a recently shaved beard. Leon let out a low purr, the desire and tension almost unbearable to him at that point; his hand abruptly grabbed onto your wrist, and held firmly as he turned around himself.
In a matter of seconds, you felt him pulling you closer, his other hand grabbed your waist with desire as he attacked you with a ferocious kiss. You repaid in the same intensity, your arm wrapped around his neck, your hand grabbing the outstanding blonde threads that got messy with the intensity of the movement in your embrace, your body burned - his hand digging your hip, your ass - he tightened his grip heavily, as if he stated - your body was his.
“Want to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He muttered against your skin as he intensified his wet, messy kisses against your jaw and neck. His arm contracted in pure force when he raised you with one hand, causing you to wrap your legs around him in an intimate hug; you sighed in pleasure. That side of his belonged to you, and only you. No one else could provoke him that way, make him that horny and needy with only a touch, only a plead. That one Leon you had taking you, ravishing you right now was the death of you; when he held you tight, squeezed you with so much will, marked your skin with his bare hands.
“I like when you get wild, babe don’t blame me...” you hummed, trying to contain your heavy breath and the panting noises that came out of your mouth. “It’s your fault, I’m such a whore for you.” you smiled mischievous, biting your lip.
One of his hands still held you against him, the other moved to your neck as he moved into the combined kitchen next to the living room room; as his hands climbed over your body around the curve of your hips, he pressed you hard against the kitchen bench. Your back hit the cold surface and his body projected against yours, his weight immobilized you and you couldn’t hold back a soft moan when you started feeling the bulge on his pants pressing against the core between your legs.
“How am I supposed to not think about you all of the time when you’re like this…” he muttered, pressing his restrained cock against you once again. “Grab it.” he ordered, and you did it. Your hand squeezed into his rock hard cock through the thick fabric of his pants, starting to do slow and soft movements; he bite his lip and let out a growl in yearning.
Leon lowered himself, his mouth skillfully descended through your neck leaving a wet trace through your skin, his hand tightened around one of your breasts as if it were his favorite toy; you purred when he increased his grip strength, and breathe out deeply when he let go, the man’s lip suckling one of your nipples, his tongue slowly rolling into your most sensitive skin.
“No, you look at me.” He commanded, and one of his hands abruptly held your face by your jaw and forced you to lock your eyes onto his. He glared at you, lust overflowing from his look. Leon seeked to see your reactions, mindly recording them in his thoughts; to eat you alive, ravish you. One of his hands stimulated your nipple, the other squeezed raw your breast giving his mouth enough space to consume it. “Good...” he praised, as his kisses descended through your stomach, belly, fuck.
“L-Leon... Ah, fuck...” you purred, your body melting in pleasure against his mouth.
You were indecently trying to control your breath, but his slow movements seemed to destroy any part of you that was capable of self-control. Your hips instinctively moved against the volume in his pants, but Leon didn’t seem determined to finish you off quickly. He wanted to take his time with you.
He pushed your body backwards against the bench, raising your legs around his shoulders; his head found space between your thighs, one of his hands palmed your stomach, pressing it down against the bench while the other tightened against one of your thighs. His tongue parted your folds in a smooth, almost insensitive movement. You felt your breath catching on your throat.
“You wanted that? You seem needy, darling.” he teased, the hand that caressed your thigh being replaced by now a finger movement, his index and middle finger parting your folds steadily leaving your clit even more exposed to him. “So wet this little cunt, aw...” he whispered, suckling you slowly. His body trembled and you frowned in pleasure with his tongue twirling around your clit as he traced slow kisses and slow suckles and velvety kisses against your core, your juices flowing through your thighs mixed with the spittle he was leaving there.
You growled in response, a submissive purr, a proof of your desperate need for him — more, of him. His hand against your belly intensified your sensations and made you squirm under him, your body started to slowly and autonomically move against his, your hip pushing yourself in a thrust against his mouth; you felt your conscience drop further every time he’d moan against you, like he was eating the most delicious meal he ever had in his lifetime.
“You close, aren’t ya?” he muttered with a naughty smile, why did he had to know you so well.
You lied. You were ashamed of how quick you felt you’d come. Tried to push him away from you, vain efforts - he ignored your hand and your push, and started to only push you harder towards your climax. He couldn’t hold his own needs by seeing you squirm ever so willingly onto his hands, that at this point, couldn’t help themselves but to work on his belt in record timing. He unbuckled it, unzipped his combat pants with ease just enough so he could pull down his boxers. His cock bobbled out in a very deserved relief, gleaming wet in desire.
Grabbing tight onto his length, Leon finally started pumping himself in slow, hard movements - masturbating himself to the obscene picture of you spreading your legs wide to him right now; everything about it was enticing to him: your wet cunt, your teary eyes while you were seeming so dumb, trying to hold back your orgasm, take off his control of you. You could hear the low and slicky sound of his movements while he was eating your pussy off with pleasure.
“Stop being foolish, my dummy baby… come for me.” he asked, with a pleading expression. “On my tongue, c’mon…”
“Leon, babe no- s-stop I’m- I can’t hold it longer…” you warned, and you were right - your eyebrows frowned in a painful, pleasured expression; your body started moving against your will stopping you from even trying to get away from his tongue. Your orgasm got you slowly, not on a surprise - like a very slow flowing sensation down your lower belly. You felt your body stopping for once, your feets squeezing themselves while Leon felt the little trembling pulses of your clit against his mouth.
“Delicious,” he whispered, licking off his lips and tasting every little piece of your slick he could possibly have. “You’re delicious.”
Another slow lick of his between your folds made you spasm a bit, you cursed under your breath before he smirked and left your pussy to rest coming up to you, kissing your body along the way, stomach, collar, mouth. He got rid of his shirt in record timing - you could feel his wet cock against your thighs, and so he pulled you out the bench and backed off slightly. The sudden void between your bodies made you whimper in need, but when you interrupted your kiss looking forward to complaining, the image of his got to you like a punch on your lower belly just again.
Shirtless; his pants open only enough so his cock was there, hanging ever so hard, twitching in need, reddened by the desire - pulsating, his arm contracted by the movements he was doing, pumping his length while staring you, drinking you in, licking off your slick from his own lips.
He took you again, roughly putting you on your back and you couldn’t help but to mischievously smile, a naughty look on your face while your hands palmed the bench surface. His gaze was locked on your small figure under him; like a little bitch of his. A good, little bitch he had all to himself.
“See how you get me… Fuck, can’t even hold myself, make me look like a teenager all again.” he hummed, feeling your wetness with a hand that palmed your cunt entirely, making you space out your legs. You could feel his tip against your folds now, tracing a path between them - it made you burn, tremble. “You want it? Yeah?” he asked, torturing you, finding it very amusing how your voice would get thinner and thinner, needier and needier.
“Yes, please.” you pleaded, biting your lip already so wet the sole contact of his cock with your core was making a nasty noise.
Leon wanted to make you beg some more; he wanted to, you knew it. He wanted to see you asking, pleading for more so helplessly, but he, himself couldn’t hold back any longer, he craved you. He took a handful of your hair and pulled it to him, making you arch your back just enough for your head to almost touch his chest; you were so drenched you needed no stretching, no preparations and he so knew it when he slowly fit his length onto your cunt. Your walls tightened to the feeling of his cock, the thickness making you let out a little cry in pleasure; he bent his head back, little drops of sweat forming on his head from how hard he was holding himself from not ravishing you restlessly for once.
He purred, and you felt that tip of his poke your insides the moment he fit the whole length; he stood, giving you a couple seconds to get used to this new filling of your empty space. God, how you wish you were filled all of the fucking time.
He kissed your neck, and breath heavy against your ear, none of you being able of forming complete senseful phrases at the moment; his hand was digging onto your waist, his body towering over yours, his weight pressing you even further against the counter you held so tightly into.
“I want to die like this” he muttered, against your ear. “Inside this tight little cunt of yours”, he took a bite to your ear and before you could formulate a response, he thrust.
You purred even louder, your breath heavy, your mind going empty for a few seconds as he started to pump into you harder, those slow hard movements, your walls clenching hard against him while he was thrusting his hips so hard you felt like you could break anytime.
“Don’t stop-” was all you could say, your voice got caught stuck in your throat, your nails were digging tightly onto the counter wood; you were on your tiptoes so he could reach your entrance, your feets started looking for space as he bent you even further, stepping on top of his.
He let go of your hair for a moment and pushed you down the counter, his hand pressing your head against the surface. The movements were wild, filled with passion, with fire, lust, chemistry - your sex was the best, you knew it, he knew it. He could barely hold himself together, he turned feral in a matter of seconds. The grunts of his need, your moans of pleasure alltogether.
“You gonna kill me-” he grunted. “That’s it… That’s it, babe.” his voice was almost mute, you knew he was trying to hold back just as much as you.
Your legs started to tremble from the effort, from your heavy breathing and from the pleasure that started taking over you once again;
“Leon-” you moaned just again along with some incoherent sounds, and bite your lower lip, you could barely move yourself right now, he was toying you like a doll, making you his the way he fucking wanted it. He grunted out loud, you felt his hand reach up to your pussy through you body and stimulating over your sensitive and hurting clit - all hopes you had of holding yourself were vain at that moment, you lost the game; couldn’t hold any longer.
Your body squirmed and you let your head fall behind, a long and loud painful moan came out of your mouth, the pain mixed with the pure pleasure, your second orgasm of that day - it was almost too overwhelming for you.
Leon’s stomach contracted, his muscles showed up, the veins on his arms were jumping from the efforts, sweat dripping off his forehead, his discharge was like a shockwave against his entire body; he shivered, almost unable of holding himself back the moment he pulled out and gave himself only a few pumps, enough so a big load of his cum hit your buttcheek, slowly dripping from your thigh while he tried to hold his breath steady; his head was now against your back and you could feel his breath catching your skin from time to time, while you tried to gain off conscience again.
You closed your eyes, tired and completely satisfied. He kissed your back ever so gently now, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you together standing again, letting your body rest against the counter in some support; after fixing his pants back in place.
“Thank you.” he muttered, digging his face against the curve of your neck, hugging you into a tight and passionate embrace. You smiled a little against his skin. “you tricked me just fine.” he raised his eyebrows.
“I know, right?” you laughed off a little, looking at him - his eyes, then low at his lips before stealing a little kiss. “You brought beer, right? I baked a cake. I’m not sure if it’s edible but it does smell nice.” you raised an eyebrow and he couldn’t hold off a little laugh to your commentary.
“Yeah, I did.” he sighed, not wanting to do anything else but hugging you in that embrace for at least some other hours, or perhaps for the entire night if you’d let him. “I love you.” he muttered, giving you a long affectionate kiss on the cheek; you couldn’t hold back a genuine, little smile.
“In italian.” you asked in a purr, your eyes with a solicit gleam. He brushed your hair with his fingers, before giving in.
“Ti amo.” he smiled, to which you answered a truly loving “I love you too, agent.”
#leon s kennedy#resident evil fanfiction#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x f!reader#leon kennedy#leon x reader
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Scarabia 7
Summary: An iridescent feather was all it took for Kalim to pack up his bags and drag Jamil to the kingdom of the faeries. Jamil has trouble understanding this odd fascination he has. In fact, it’s almost scaring him a bit.
(Trust me when I say this AU has not been exiting my mind. It’s been floating around in there, but for some reason my fingers could not get it out. The fingers and brain would much rather churn out other things. Weird weird brain. Hate having to wrestle with it so. Also excuse the errors, I am kinda sleepy.)
From birth until death, Jamil will always be expected to entertain all of the wills and whimsies of Kalim. He cannot deny him any request if it is within his means, nor should he scorn him when he clearly is making mistakes. A servant, a guide, and a source of comfort all wrapped up in one. And all he has to do is keep this facade perfect until the day Kalim dies.
…what a joke, such a thing won’t happen. His services will likely be passed onto Kalim’s child, if he even makes it to that age. And if not his child, then the next sibling. Retirement is a dream meant for the privileged, and so long as those privileged few exist, Jamil will be made to serve them.
Jamil cannot ask too many questions, especially when it carries the possibility of offending the master.
He cannot ask Kalim of the origins of that iridescent feather. Cannot question why Kalim has spent the entire week simply gazing at it. Cannot even ask if he can look at it, no matter how familiar it may seem to him.
His dreams, they don’t matter, so he must always stifle them.
Clearly this wasn’t his place, and all Jamil can do is sigh in frustration when Kalim locked himself in his room. And sigh even deeper when Kalim burst out his room one day, claiming he wished to vacation in the main kingdom of faeries. Wanted to see the sight where the most beautiful feather came from.
And off they went on a personal caravan. And onto the dark stone they walk.
“And what will you do with this bird, if you end up finding it?”
How silly. Jamil already knows the answer to it already.
“Hmm? Ah, well I’m gonna keep it of course!” And the smile on Kalim’s face was as big as ever. Any wider and it would seem manic, but that’s simply the way his happiness works. He feels it in all of its intensity, even should it warp his features into something almost unplesant.
“Though, with how big of a cage you purchased, I’d predict I’ll have to take care of it sooner or later, won’t I?” As everything does. Cute novelties always lose their luster within half a year. Such was the fate of Kalim’s private zoo when he asked for it for his birthday. There were other servants to take care of it, but it never sit right with Jamil to just, let them do part of the work when he can perfectly take care of it himself.
That and his parents scolded him for daring to slack off, even though he pulled multiple muscles in his back. He could never quite lay back on his chair the same way ever since.
“Oh no, I don’t want you to touch them.”
Jamil stopped his tracks, the frankness of Kalim’s tone and the never wavering smile on his face almost had him believing he imagined it. “…Kalim?”
Kalim paused himself, blinking before his mind was pulled from his thoughts. He waved his hands, fumbling about in his nerves. “Ah, I’m sorry! That didn’t come out right, did it?”
“Whether it came out right or not doesn’t matter. If you don’t want me to touch your newest pet, then so it shall be,” Jamil shook his head, sighing out in hopes the urge to bit his lip will also pass.
“Sorry sorry…”
What Kalim doesn’t know won’t hurt him. The role of the perfect servant isn’t something that Jamil can simply be. It’s an act, a mask, and every so often Jamil has to pull it off.
Kalim was always a heavy sleeper, even more so when he’s been drinking from the various wines he had Jamil bring. Under the guise of some jovial fun, Jamil coaxed Kalim into drinking much more than usual. No thunderstorm would be able to wake him up. Kalim once almost drowned outside in a storm like that, napping without anything to protect him.
Jamil doesn’t sleep in the same room as Kalim, but here he was nonetheless. He took a glance to Kalim splayed out in his pile of pillows and blankets, sighed, then continued digging through the various bags and luggage.
Finally, Jamil’s fingers hit something. He pulled out a large, gold gilded, black box with a keyhole in it. He didn’t have to look for the key. It was tied with a silk ribbon right at the bottom of the box. Really, Kalim needs to be more careful, but Jamil certainly won’t tell him so. Perhaps later, but not now.
He opens the box and he was almost… disappointed at the sight. The feather was dull. All the rainbow light that would scatter upon the surface of the walls when daylight hit it wasn’t there. The plumes still pulsed with those delicate colors, but it didn’t hold the radiance that Jamil knows he saw when it was Kalim’s hands.
From his dreams, the shape was the same, and yet it was missing just about everything else. What was it, beyond its glow? The lack of numbers? The sturdy feeling of wings against his body? The face that was connected to it?
Face… what face? No matter how hard Jamil tried to claw through his memories, that face he wanted to see was no clearer.
Even with his disappointment, Jamil plucked the feather and held it in his hand.
Only then did its glow come back. A kaleidoscope of colors flowed forth and blinded Jamil’s unprepared eyes. He winced and held the feather to his chest, just in case it woke up Kalim.
He waited, but only heard a snort and a shifting. He’s still asleep.
Jamil blinked, tears dotting the corners of his eyes from the brightness of it all.
There it was, the beauty he’s been seeking, that Kalim had been hoarding all to himself.
How silly. How stupid to be so taken by a feather. To have this simple item that was nothing more than a gift from a pen pal to Kalim to haunt Jamil so. To haunt both of them, actually.
Even with all those reservations in mind, Jamil lifted that feather and laid a gentle kiss on the body. It felt nice, feeling the plumes brush against his lips.
…he should put this away and go to bed. Kalim must never know what he just did.
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst-drabbles#ask#drabble#scarabia#kalim#kalim al asim#jamil#jamil viper#valkyrie au#reader insert#yandere
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medicine
a/n. i promised myself to focus on the events and only post them but since i’m in a good mood today, here’s a small self indulgent thing i wrote yesterday at 3am :^)
warnings. reader is sick, a bit of language barrier + messily written n not proof read (i’ll regret that later)
it came off extremely weird to chan that suddenly you called him to inform about your business trip. “i’ll be gone for five days, maybe a week… sorry i’m letting you know just now but i found out like, an hour ago” was what you said two days ago, throwing a little ‘i love you’ and hanging up.
besides that you didn’t even go and see him to say goodbye before you left. he would lie if he said he wasn’t offended but, maybe it was urgent… besides, he’ll get lots of kisses once you’re back, right?
wanting to surprise you and help you a bit, chan decided to go and clean up your place. if you left in a rush, there was probably a mess. huge mess, knowing you. he also missed you so he thought while he’s at it, he’ll steal a hoodie or two of yours. just so smell your scent…
but was be surprised when he walked into your place, keys in his hand, a cough echoing from your bedroom. chan frowned, closing the door and walked towards the source of the noise.
and his heart skipped a beat, shock washing over him. you were curled up on your bed, laying under two blankets and warm pair of socks on your feet. painful cough ripping from your throat as you tried to reach for the glass with water.
“y/n? what are you doing here?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who walked into your place without you knowing. when you turned around, his heart clenched.
glossy and puffy eyes, nose all red due to constant blowing and pressing tissues, flushed cheeks and tear stains adorning them.
you mumbled something incoherent, plopping down onto your bed again. chan hurriedly walked over tho you, putting his hand on your forehead.
“oh my god, you’re burning up! did you take some medicine? how long have you been sick?” he asked, grabbing your hand with his free one. you sniff, looking away in embarrassment. but chan isn’t having any of it, stern yet concerned look on his face “y/n.”
you sigh and try to sit. chan helps you, placing a pillow behind your back before you rest it against the headboard. he sits down at the edge of the bed, both hands grabbing yours and ebony eyes looking at you in anticipation.
“well, there’s no business trip. i got sick and–“ you cough, covering your mouth with your elbow. chan sighs, looking at all the tissues laying in the floor. once the attack stops, you groan “i didn’t want you to get sick too… and other reasons”
the last part is mumbled so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it. but he did, which resulted in him frowning.
“is it about me seeing you like this? y/n, we’ve been dating for three years now… it is weird i haven’t you sick before but trust me, i lived with seven other guys for the last few years of my life. i’ve seen a lot” he giggled, a smile tugging at your lips too
“well this too but also…” you trail off, this time he didn’t understand a word you said.
“what?” chan huffed, squeezing your hand encouragingly. you sigh and look down.
“well… i didn’t understand the meds descriptions and i was too scared i’ll mix them up” you murmured, cheeks turning even more read. even though you’ve been living in korea for three years, the medical language still leaves you clueless.
“oh baby” chan grunted, hands moving to cup your cheeks “you should have called me”
“i know i just… didn’t want to bother you. and then i was too exhausted to look it up, my eyes watering after mere seconds of looking at my phone. i thought it would go away eventually…” you explained quietly, finally looking at him.
and his features are nothing but soft. as much as chan would love to gush about how cute you are, he knows he has a task ahead.
so he gathered all the medicine available in your house, quickly making you some hot soup and warm water with honey to ease your throat pain.
once you’ve eaten and took a quick nap, chan is sitting next to you and explaining slowly each medication and what is it for. occasionally looking up at you with loving eyes, he makes a mental note to write it all down later and put it in the medicine container.
[ masterlist <3 ]
taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang
#skz#skz fluff#stray kids#stray kids fluff#bangchan#bangchan fluff#bangchan x you#bangchan x y/n#bangchan x reader#bangchan skz#bangchan imagines#bangchan scenarios#bangchan drabbles#skz drabble#skz boyfriend#skz imagines#skz soft hours
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how are we feeling about this project amber update
assuming this is in relation to childe bc who the fuck else JWDJWJKDJKW anon im so sorry if not. also so so sorry for how out of hand this got. i am simply unwell about him.
But! Well. there certainly are thoughts
(obviously 4.6 datamine of arle SQ and her voicelines; This Will Not Spoil Anything Abt The Main SQ Plot, i only discuss the relevant parts. also some p Heavy negativity towards fanon ooc at the start youve been warned dont @ me)
(i mean i didnt even read anything of the SQ but The scene w childe so idek the main plot of the quest rly either lmao. tho go at ur own risk if u wanna check the dialogue out; its the 2nd quest log but it does hint at the greater story)
TLDR: how i feel abt his appearance in a vaccuum? quite solid despite the briefness, actually. accounting for the way fanon is 100% likely going to be reading into this and turning it into the Lets Infantilize Ajax Even More 2024 championship? conflicted.
in other words; a certified labyrinth warriors moment - theyve expanded on childes character in a very interesting and quite a compelling way and while i Do like the potential in what im seeing from hoyos end theyve also done it so that its going to be misinterpreted to hell and back by fanon so i kinda have an immediate jaded love-hate moment going on JJWJDKJDKJWJDWKJ
its literally just labyrinth warriors flashbacks - that event has some of my ALL TIME favorite insights into who ajax is and how he views the world and himself but when the event came out all everyone cared abt was to warp it into baby boy stuck in scawwy paper boy dungeon dehumanizes himself by calling himself a weapon and doesnt love himself he is such a sad trauma meowkitten 🥺🥺so yeah
bc like lets look at this properly for a bit; okay he went back to fontaine to look for skirk still somewhat injured and waa waa my 286 month infant baby cannot Make decisions like that!!!!!11! which is to say. i am tired of him getting this shit every time.
is it smart of him to get on the move immediately with just the bare minimum of rest? no. do i like that hes straining himself before proper recovery? not particularly no. do i feel the particular need to psychoanalyze this grown man and feared warrior whos 100% survived Way Worse in Way More Extreme Situations for it? hell fucking no.
while not at all the course of action a medical professional would approve of. from childes POV its perfectly logical hes priorizing going back for skirk when its literally the FIRST TIME shes showed up in like. a Decade. when hes been looking for her all this time are you kidding me 😭😭😭 but fanon must keep fanoning for their widdle baby girl so what does a hater like me know
anyway. seething and venting over im gonna try to avoid bringing up how much i hate this kinda infantilization of ajax now im sorry for bringing it up so much on ur innocent ask anon KJWDJKWKJDJDKWJKD. neutral discussion moment. i Promise
so it seems that theyre going for the pulcinella-is-shady-about-ajax (and prolly his family) angle for good and like. personally for me as long as the only real source of that claim was scara (a cynical edgelord who doesnt believe in non-exploitative human relationships, mind you) i was rather skeptical towards just instantly drawing that conclusion, but well. with the scene in arles AQ it appears to be sth theyre building towards
i actually really fucking loved that scene bc while theres outsider perspectives (scara obvi; and even arles line for him has that vibe. and ppl still take that shit face value 💀💀) and a lot of fandom assuming childes like. completely clueless and naive and ignorant towards the potential risks involved with trusting pulcinella. this is actually a very clever demonstration of quite the opposite? and showcasing how despite his aversion towards schemes and lies hes still intelligent and knows the kind of people hes dealing with when it comes to his fellow harbingers
like. childe has a negative opinion of arle based on what pulcinella has told him about her because at face value many of her deeds are in heavy conflict with his values of loyalty and family. and because he does not have the further context behind her actions and what the HotH under her is really like. Obviously hed hold a very hostile and wary view towards arlecchino
(ESPECIALLY when with all this biased intel hes still going to run into kids from the house!!! and then hes going wtf? these are good kids. what the hell is that knave doing with them??? blink twice if you need help i will start a civil war for yall like thats how he is with kids!!!!)
so YES. pulcinella has given him if not false then at least misleading intel based on the political tension between himself and arlecchino and the wider HotH. and childes taken that at face value! sure! he is close with pulcinella of course he would!
BUT. THEN. he returns to fontaine and seeks arlecchinos help looking for skirk. and observes her behavior and modus operandi for himself as well as the kids. does he go "nah she must be just hiding the crazy evil shit i would never distrust pulcinella" and leave it at that when reality doesnt completely match his expectations?
NO. because when offered the opportunity through the traveler asking about the HotH childe immediately capitalizes on the opportunity to prod for answers and see if pulcinella is lying to him!!!!
and hes so fucking smart with the way he does it too???? i LOVE his intelligence. the entire thing is so simple yet elegant; it Completely relies on his reputation as the kinda gullible harbinger whod Never scheme or hide Anything to indirectly affirm or deny his suspicions. he doesnt Need to Pretend to care about the possibility of arle betraying the kids bc he genuinely does!! and when she pushes back against the accusation he doesnt Need to fake admitting to her that well, actually, its all just rumors so he could be completely wrong. and so on. like he navigates the entire thing so effortlessly. and whats the end result?
childe has Confirmation of pulcinellas possible ulterior motives in action AND that arlecchino is a much more reliable ally than he initially assumed. all the while appearing as just The Straightforward 11th. like obviously id need to hear it voiced first to be sure but in text it v much gives the impression hes almost kinda just. playing up the threats towards arle and being "dumb" on Purpose?? to get the answers he wanted out of arle without appearing like hes fishing for anything particular. and i just hhhhhhhhhhh
i love when he does this so muchhhh!!!!!! 😭😭 he doesnt need to become some machiavellian schemer to be able to strategize !!!!!! he avoids scheming bc he Dislikes it not bc hes incapable of it like this has Always been the case Since Liyue AQ and i love whenever they show that side of himm . my Beloved
so anyway. while i do still think the like "pulcinella is bad and has his family hostage" is still kind of a generic plotline and i hope the writing regarding the whole thing wont ultimately turn out to be sth That simplified and black and white. its p clear theyre doing Something with pulcinellas motivations and as they are. im Really glad theyre letting it show that childes not just some completely passive party being manipulated in this all. he Is thinking abt this stuff and his position among the harbingers. ig we shall see where it goes - not the greatest fan of the concept still, but canon text supports it becoming a thing way more than when it was just scaras word we had for it. hope theyll surprise me positively w how they go about it!
then briefly for the rest uhh
also loved arle and childe just shittalking the rest of the harbingers it was amazing. i wasnt expecting this kinda dynamic between them at all but its great lmao. also i wanna see childe hang out w the HotH kids
as for project stuzha; so we dont really get anything solid on it other than being summoned back to snezhnaya for it is apparently a Big Deal. but still very interested. let my man have his endgame significance Trust
childes appearance was obviously v brief ultimately but that was clear from his leaked linecount to begin with - i am pretty satisfied with what they seem to have done w him. like its not The Best but also i wasnt expecting his lore to get some massive expansion in another harbingers SQ . the worst i feared was that it was just going to be a flashback of arle returning his vision which did Not happen so massive W. i am super hyped to hear this scene voice acted proper and happy to see him again, i really hope he gets to appear at least once more in an interlude or dains quest or something before going on hiatus again but idk if thats too much to ask LKKWJDJWDJWD
also: i am never changing my namecard after this patch drops. oh my godddddddd its So Fucking Beautiful 😭😭😭😭
But. Yeah. lots of good stuff. unfortunately lots of it will get misinterpreted and fanon will get obnoxious about it. but i still love getting to see him again and i am speedrunning that namecard day fucking one mutuals and/or followers in EU please add me (UID 711090267) ill need coop buddies for the world bosses
thank youuuuuuu for the ask i hope this monstrosity of a monologue doesnt scare u off 💀💀💀
#im actually so sorry for dumping this on you anon i Really hope this was what you were referring to bc . if not then JJWDJKADJKDW#ill feel horrible 😭😭😭😭 but also. this is the brand i have no clue What Else would it be#i Guess it could be about arlecchino as a whole ? im sorry anon i didnt actually read the entire SQ log so idk yet how it all goes#but sure ask me abt my arle thoughts if ud like after this jumpscare once the patch has gone live jjkjkdjkwjkjkdw#also 286 months is 23 years 10 months. no i dont have an age hc for him set in stone or anything but eh . its in the ballpark#asks#aaaand unsurprisingly this goes into#childeposting#genshin
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I have only finished writing the first draft of my first novel so I'm nowhere near considering the legal side of writing yet but I'm curious, so if you don't mind me asking I got two questions:
1) Do laws forbidding writers from reading fanfic of their work go over to other mediums, like visual novels for example? Or let's say I wrote a script and was lucky enough to get it produced as an animated short, would these laws still pertain to it? Or do stories outside the written medium have a completely different set of laws pertaining to them?
2) If an author writes a standalone and reads fanfic of said standalone, then goes on to write a series completely separate from their previous work with a different world and cast can the fanfic author still sue if they detect similarities? Even if their fanfic is attached to a completely different story?
Sorry if these questions are weird and rambly, it's 1 AM over here.
Let me clarify this. These aren't laws that I've been following: they're self-designed rules, based on the current legal realities obtaining in the markets where my IP is known and on offer.
Re 1): Written or not written—drawn, sung, or performed as interpretive dance for all I care—work created with consent in one's own universe must have come about with underlying binding written agreements in place. Without such agreements existing, viewing work in any format that's based in one's own universe will inevitably expose one legally. If I write a graphic novel and people write fanfic based on it, I will not read their fanfic because it could expose me legally to claims that further work done in my IP was based on their fic. Ditto if I write a script and it gets produced, and people see it and write fanfic about it, I won't read that fanfic either. The medium doesn't matter.
Re 2): If I write what for the time being is a standalone novel and read fanfic based on it, and then write a completely different series per your description, can a fanfic author still sue me if they detect similarities? Even if their fanfic is attached to a completely different story?
Well, if they've got the money, and depending on where they're located (for national laws differ), sure they can. The suit may well be sourced in confusion, or malice, or both, but they can. And the suit may in due time be lost or thrown out of court for being frivolous, but no matter how the cards fall, it's going to wind up costing you, the writer, a fair bit of money to get shut of it. A year's worth of your earnings? Two years' worth? Five? And what will be left of your career at that point?
The whole situation is better avoided by not reading any fanfic based on your work. In any format. Any time, any place. Period.
What's workable, and legal, and safe, is the following approach to derivative works from the IP owner's point of view.
Let's say that (for example) a producer or playwright approaches me and wants to adapt So You Want To Be A Wizard as a stage play. If that happens I have them get in touch with my agent, my agent proposes a license fee for allowing them to do this, and draws up a contract with that person essentially stating that they have my permission to adapt my book. Once that contract's in force (meaning it's been signed and money's changed hands), it's perfectly safe for me to look at those people's material written in my universe, because we're both bound by a concrete agreement on how the creative process will go forward and how the results will be used.
Or alternately: Let's say that some writers I know think it would be fun to write Young Wizards stories, and when I hear about this, I say "Okay, let's do a YW anthology." And I talk it over with my agent and then we call in a crowd of writers whose talents I trust and whom I think would be interested in taking part. Those interested all sign contracts with me that say they've got my permission to create those works using my IP / in my universe, and to get paid for them. My side of those contracts stipulates (as seems fair) that, if they invent something particularly cool while working in my universe, I retain the right to use and expand on that concept or language at a later date if I like. (If they have a problem with that, that's their call: they don't have to sign the contract or be in the anthology.) And I can obviously now read all this work and have it, legally speaking, be perfectly safe for me.
But let's try looking at the situation from a different direction. I open my ask box one morning and find that someone's stuffed the idea for a Young Wizards short story into it, also saying, "And I'd like to publish this as fanfic, if it's okay with you." Without an agreement in place, without my permission, this person has forced me to look at material which potentially infringes my copyright. But that doesn't matter in terms of my immediate legal options, because fanfic is also conditionally protected by copyright. (This is a complex situation, but this article deals with some of it, and links to more discussion.)
My first urge is to simply delete the thing and pretend I never saw it. But unfortunately Tumblr's records of my web accesses will now contain proof that someone logging into my account, from my computer (or iPad, or phone...) has opened and viewed that ask. Should I ever wind up in court with this person, their lawyers will have demanded that data from Tumblr and will use it to prove that I had access to their client's idea.
So now—assuming they've actually gone ahead and done this writing and publishing—I have to get hold of my lawyer and have them contact Tumblr and get that person's identity and contact info from them, so that they can be sent a cease-and-desist letter. I hate having to do this, but evidence that you have not been defending your copyright can be used against you.
Now let me be blunt. Like most writers, I'm not wealthy. And the simple business described in the paragraph above could cost me a month's income or more in billings from the lawyer. What am I supposed to eat, next month, while I'm trying to write? ...It's a good thing I like ramen.
...Though if I was wealthy, things could get much worse.
Let's say that in an access of utter pre-caffeine idiocy, and a weary desire to be nice to a clueless innocent, I just tell that person in the ask box, "Okay, fine, knock yourself out... just don't make money from it and don't do it where I'll see it." And they say "Of course, I'd never want to cause you trouble, your fiction has meant so much to me..." And then some kind of gloriously indescribable series of events occurs that somehow or other raises the Young Wizards series' profile way higher than it is at the moment, and makes its originator even a little bit rich and famous.*
youtube
...And a year or two or five later, in these increasingly litigious times, that person from the ask box who was so nice and said they'd never want to cause me trouble... suddenly starts having second thoughts. ...After all, I've got all this money now, and without their contribution, maybe it would never have happened, right? Don't they have a right to some of that? It's only fair!
You can just hear the thought processes, because we've seen this play out elsewhere before now. "Come on, she'll never miss it. She's probably got a castle in Ireland with solid gold toilets by now. She's got a TV series in the works, and when that comes out she'll have lots more money. She'll never miss a few thousand [ / few tens of thousands / few hundred thousand...] out of that!" And shortly they're on the phone to some lawyers, and the tabloids, and Variety and The Hollywood Reporter, with claims that the Young Wizards series in the works is based on their idea. In fact, they can prove I not only read it, I gave them permission to write in my universe!
...And suddenly Hulu/HBO/RandoStartupStreamingNetwork has stopped taking my agent's calls.
(sigh) So, as I said above: just don't read fanfic based in your own universe, mmkay? You'll thank me later.
*Without the universe's originator then suffering some kind of toxic ethical shift after the fact. (shrug) Stranger things have happened.
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