#I've only killed the engine once and that's it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undercoverpena · 3 months

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1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Gray?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Gives hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

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Chapter 20 - Backstreet's Back - All Right!

Why this sat in the drafts for so long, I do not know so I apologize to everyone! I've been super busy with college and haven't had time to write much...but here we are

Today was an ABSOLUTE fever dream and we all need a little somethin somethin. So I present to you - the backstreet boys (formula 1 edition)

RACES SKIPPED ARE CANADA AND SPAIN (side note - Arthur hasn't been able to be at a race since Monaco)

Haven't been able to say this in a while but I hope you enjoy! Remember that comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!! Love you all :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You had gotten to the paddock super early once again. But that was only because Lando and Oscar has asked you to hang out, and you’d never skip out on some good times with your papaya friends. Andrea loved you and often let you sit in his office if you were bored. Actually, all of the team principals seemed to do that.

Even Toto, which was weird considering you stole on of his driver’s car with his other driver.

Like always, you found yourself killing some time by playing Subway Surfers. You were about to get a new high score when two shadows covered your screen, making your character get arrested.

“Hey, you made me lose my score!”

You were about to tear them a new one, but your face had a shocked look once you finally pointed your head up.

“What the f-!”

“Has anyone seen the kid?” was a question that Max did not imagine that he’d hear first thing in the morning when he arrived on Sunday.

His eyes glanced to the corner that you were almost always in, listening to music. But, the corner was void of any rookie teammate. He looked toward Christian, who asked the initial question.

“Have you checked her driver’s room?”

The Brit sighed, “We checked her room, your room, hospitality, and even the Ferrari garage, Williams garage, and McLaren garage. No one has seen her, yet the log says that she’s already here because she tapped in at the entrance.”

Well, Max was stumped. And he knew why Christian was wanting to see you. They were finally in the Red Bull Ring, the home race for the entire team. It was a big deal, and Christian didn’t want you to get overwhelmed. There was a lot on their shoulders. Charles had pole, but Max was right behind him. Charles was always strong in the Red Bull Ring, almost winning in 2019 and then winning in 2022. The Ferraris had done well the last two races, and you two needed to hold them off. Thankfully, you were right behind Max in P3, but Carlos was behind you in P4. A Ferrari sandwich if you will.

Everyone was kind of counting on the both of you for a Red Bull 1-2.

“Have you seen Vito or Mitch?”

“We’re right here.”

The Dutchman turned around to see your race engineer and manager, but you were nowhere to be found. He opened his mouth to say something but Vito held out a hand.

“Yes, we’ve already tried to call her and Arthur. Both phones went to voicemail.”

“Oh god.” Max shivered. If you weren’t picking up, and your boyfriend wasn’t picking up. Well, he didn’t want to imagine what you were up to. Just as he was about to suggest looking in the garages again, Lando popped his head in.

“Have any of you seen Bug? She was supposed to meet up with me and Oscar earlier and she never showed up!” the curly-haired Brit whined.

Now, that had Max even more worried. You never skipped hanging out with your favorite Brit (after Christian) or Aussie. Before he was about to start getting a search party together, Mitch suddenly made a weird face.

“Do any of you hear that?”

The five went silent to try to hear whatever Mitch had heard.

Lando’s face scrunched. “Sounds like the Backstreet Boys?”

The group quickly walked over to the opening and didn’t know whether to be relived or just upright confused.

Because there you were, holding a giant boombox (God only knows where you got that) with sunglasses on, with Arthur to your right and one Ollie Bearman to your left. The soundtrack was indeed Backstreet Boys, namely the 1997 hit song “Everybody.”

As Max learned at Vegas, you definitely knew how to make an entrance. By now, most of the drivers had walked out of their garages to see the commotion.

And much to Max’s surprise, Nico Rosberg, Mark Webber, and Jensen Button walked up to the three of you, giant smiles on their faces. The song had ended a bit ago, and you handed the now silent boombox back to the German. The Australian of the group gave both Ollie and Arthur pretty big hugs.

“Well, Oscar lost his grid dad,” Lando said, earning a hit from said Aussie.

“Hey! He was never my grid dad in the first place.”

The now group of six made their way to the giant group of drivers, including but not limited to: Max, Lando, Charles, Carlos, Logan, Lewis, George, and Oscar (in no particular order). Arthur’s hand was behind your back as you enthusiastically talked to the very tall British brunet dressed in Ferrari red.

“I cannot believe that you come here, apparently to see me, and say that you need to be in the Ferrari garage! Arthur’s even going to be in the Red Bull one!” they heard you whine as the group got closer.

Ollie rolled his eyes. “That’s only because he’s your boy-oof. You did NOT have to hit me.” He glared down at you as he rubbed his side.

“Yes I did.” Your arms crossed as you finally stopped in front of the giant group, who were all staring at you. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

Lando mirrored your stance, even popping his hip out. “What’s up?” he jokingly mocking. “We were supposed to go to breakfast?” He pointed between him and Oscar.

A look of realization glossed over your face as you looked at the papaya drivers.

“Oooohhhh, yeah. Sorry. Uh, their fault?” You pointed at Ollie and Arthur, who both looked betrayed.

“Our fault?” Ollie squawked. “You were the one who dragged us to breakfast!”

“You had breakfast?”

“Yes Lando, I had breakfast.”

The younger Monegasque silenced you. “The big boys are talking. And then you dragged us to find Nico because you thought he had a boombox.”

“The big boys? Seriously Thur? I can take you any day.” You glared up at him.

“Oh yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked down at you, getting in your face to really show the height difference.

That’s it.

You suddenly jumped on him, bring him to the floor. The Max and Charles jumped into action, trying to get you separated. Ollie just watched with a giant grin on his face, laughing at the two of you.

“Ollie, kindly shut up?”

“Yes mom.”

The two of you were separated quickly, because you really didn’t have much malice toward your boyfriend.

“I totally won.”

“Kid, you lost horribly.”

“Max, has anyone ever told you that you don’t have to say everything that comes to your mind?”

Charles, Lewis, Lando, Oscar, Logan, and George all nodded in agreement while Max stared at them with wide eyes.

“You all agree?!”

“Can I have my drivers back please?!” Christian suddenly yelled, making everyone look at him.

“Please take her. She’s rabid.” Arthur pushed you forward, making you take a swing at him (that he was ready for and dodged rather easily).

You stuck your tongue out at him, before giving Ollie a hug and gently guiding him to Charles.

Your finger pointed at the red-clad driver. “Take care of my son please, even if you are the enemy. He likes his sandwiches without the crust and needs a nap with his blanket in 5 hours.”

“Gosse?”

“Aw you brought my blanket?”

Ollie’s face flushed red as he realized everyone’s eyes were on him. Charles just looked worried as though someone just handed him an actual child and told him “good luck.”

You turned to follow your team principal, who was muttering something about you giving him even more gray hairs every weekend. “By Ollie! Have fun!”

The parade went by smoothly. You laughed a lot when Nico brought the boombox to the interviews. He had a lot of questions for you and Max, since it was the team race today, which made your anxiety skyrocket just a bit.

You and Arthur were able to have just a few minutes of alone time back in your driver’s room.

Because this was a surprise race, Arthur didn’t have to work or be with his brother. So, he was all yours for the entirety of Sunday. However, your excitement didn’t last long as he told you that he had to go back to Switzerland for more testing right after.

You sighed as you pressed your head against his chest, his arms around you. “If I had known that you’d be gone so much, I wouldn’t have called Seb and just have kept you as my WAG.”

Arthur sadly smiled down at you. “I know chéri, but I like testing. It gives me a purpose.”

Another sigh escaped your lips as you finally met his gaze. He cooed as he saw tears forming in your eyes.

“What is wrong mon fille jolie?”

You let a few tears escape, but they didn’t get very far as Arthur wiped them off as quickly as they fell.

“I just miss you and I miss home,” you confessed, hiding your face in his neck as you stepped closer. Arthur gently brought you over to the couch and readjusted you so that you were just lying on his front.

His hands gently ran through your hair. He knew you needed to be in the car soon, but he wouldn’t let you go without trying to console you.

You continued, “And I know that we just had summer break not too long ago, but it wasn’t enough.”

Arthur just listened, know you needed to spill to feel better.

“Everyone is counting on me to bring in a 1-2 since it’s the home race. But the last two races weren’t the best. I barely got any points.” You muttered the last part, “I’m never going to win a race by now.”

“Hey, none of that.” Arthur lifted your face so that you could look in his eyes. His were filled with determination. “Do you know how amazing you are? You podiumed at your first race and are fourth in the championship. As a rookie! You are incredible. Parfois j’aimerais que tu te voies comme je te vois.” (translation: Sometimes I wish you saw yourself as I see you.)

You huffed. “I still can’t understand you, but I’m hoping that was a compliment.”

“It was.”

He moved his head down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. At the contact, a sigh expelled from your nose.

It felt so good to be so loved.

If someone was to write a poem, about how Arthur looked at you and how you looked at Arthur, their pens would be void of ink and the stars would be shadowed by their words.

The two of you were so lost in each other that a knock at the door scared you both and ended up with you on the floor.

Mitch poked her head in before shaking it slightly.

“I don’t even want to know what you were up to, but Y/n needs to get in the car.”

You quickly stood, with Arthur’s help, and grabbed your helmet, making your way back into the garage. Like clockwork, the Monegasque took your headpiece and gently made sure that it was safely secure. And, with a kiss on the “forehead,” he sent you off. He could tell that you didn’t really want to get in the car. Which was understandable. It wasn’t very often that Arthur saw you not want to drive. But he knew that you were going to be amazing today.

Starting Grid:

Charles Leclerc

Max Verstappen

Y/n L/n

Carlos Sainz

Oscar Piastri

Pierre Gasly

Daniel Ricciardo

Lewis Hamilton

Yuki Tsunoda

Alex Albon

Lando Norris

Logan Sargeant

Valtteri Bottas

Fernando Alonso

George Russell

Lance Stroll

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Nico Hulkenberg

You rolled your tires as you waited for the lights to go out. They were tense, but that helped you be ready to press the accelerator. If you weren’t tense, you knew there’d be something wrong. If you felt high-strung outside of the car, inside was 10 times worse.

All the pressure, all the doubts, all the hopes and dreams – were on your shoulders.

And you weren’t going to let them down.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the 2024 Austrian Grand Prix! Charles Leclerc has a strong start in the initial few seconds, but Max Verstappen seems to be on a mission to turn this into a win. Verstappen gets down the inside and pushes Leclerc a bit wide to gain a position on the pole sitter. We both know that he will probably start to bolt in just a few corners.

“His rookie teammate Y/n L/n seems to also have the upper hand against the other Ferrari of Carlos Sainz as she seems to do what she does best – go around the outside on that initial turn 1 and somehow make it out in front.

“Now the track is a bit rainy, and we saw what happened the last time that happened, so we’ll keep an eye on our Red Bull number 2.”

You felt water droplets fall into your visor as you were picking up speed on the Ferrari in front of you. You knew that this “dirty air” would be much worse than regular, since it was contaminated with water as well.

You pressed your radio button when it seemed almost impossible to catch up to the red car. The rain had also stopped so your intermediates were getting dangerous to drive with.

“Mitch what is the plan because I cannot catch up to Leclerc in these conditions.”

“Do you think you can go the rest of the way in mediums?”

You thought for a moment. You couldn’t go the rest of the way on softs, as they would degrade too quickly. And hards took forever to warm up.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Then box ahead of Max. You’ll come out right behind him. So, he’ll give you a tow and then when he boxes, you’ll do the same. Max has priority.”

“Copy.”

You quickly pitted the next lap. The Red Bull team seemed to be on fire as you were in and out in a few seconds. You didn’t know, but they somehow set the record for a new pit stop – 1.789 seconds.

The crowd got excited as you suddenly appeared behind Max and in front of the number sixteen car.

With Max in front of you, the tow was very helpful as you started to build bigger gap. You guessed that Ferrari must have messed up Charles’s pit stop as Lando’s papaya car was now behind you, instead of Charles.

You felt bad, but that’s on his team.

However, Lando was on much fresher tyres that you were, and he was gaining in the last ten laps of the race. You really tried to not let him overtake, but he did…with five laps to go.

Mitch suddenly came over the radio. “Don’t push it like last time. We don’t need another Suzuka. Third place will be just fine.”

But you weren’t having any of that. You never responded and just kept at the pace you were going, trying to get the maximum out of the car.

You hadn’t noticed, but everyone else in the garages could see that you were surprisingly gaining on Lando. Ollie watched as you were making qualifying times per lap. The crew was holding on to each other, cheering you on. With each tenth gained, the noise grew louder.

You saw the last lap flag, and you knew you had to keep your elbows out.

“And we are coming up on the last lap and L/n has somehow made it back into Norris’s DRS. She tried to get around the outside on the first turn, but is not successful. Yet, she’s keeping herself well in the DRS and doesn’t make try to make a move on the straights.

“Here comes the last real corner of the circuit and only a small straight for an overtake.

“SHE’S GOING FOR IT!

“IT’S A PHOTO FINISH…DO WE HAVE RESULTS?”

You slowed down your car as you drove around for the cool down lap. Your finger was jamming the radio button.

“Do we have it!?”

Arthur was biting his fingernails as everyone in the garage was waiting for the results. The mechanics were happy with another P1 finish from Max, but they were on baited breath to see if you had almost done the impossible and finished in a 1-2 sequence. A steward walked over to the pit wall and gave Christian the paper with the results.

A giant smile crossed his face as he was the one to give you the news.

“Congrats kid. It’s a 1-2 finish.”

Race Results

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Lando Norris – 15 points

Charles Leclerc – 12 points

Carlos Sainz – 11 points

Pierre Gasly + fastest lap – 9 points

Oscar Piastri – 6 points

Lewis Hamilton – 4 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 2 points

Alex Albon – 1 point

Logan Sargeant

George Russell

Lance Stroll

Fernando Alonso

Nico Hulkenberg

Valtteri Bottas

Esteban Ocon

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Daniel Ricciardo

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 244 points

Charles Leclerc – 201 points

Y/n L/n – 124 points

Lando Norris – 115 points

Carlos Sainz – 91 points

Lewis Hamilton – 70 points

Oscar Piastri – 68 points

Alex Albon – 39 points

George Russell – 36 points

Fernando Alonso – 35 points

Logan Sargeant – 29 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly – 12 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Valtteri Bottas

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 383 points

Ferrari – 292 points

McLaren – 194 points

Mercedes – 106 points

Aston Martin – 50 points

Williams – 41 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpine – 12 points

Alpha Romeo

Haas

“OH YEAH BABY. LET’S GO!” you yelled over your radio. The crew in the garage stood up from their seats and began to hug each other.

“Oh man, that was, wow! Can’t believe that. Great job everyone. Is this what winning feels like?” you asked as you took the cooldown lap, yet there was no answer. Everyone was too busy watching that final overtake and celebrating about it.

Arthur just watched your car take a lap on the screen. He softly whispered, “I knew you could do it.” The love in his eyes could have poured out if love was a physical thing.

Mitch came over the radio as you were beginning to pull in. “And congrats kid. You have surpassed Lewis Hamilton’s rookie point record.”

“LET’S GO! THAT'S THE SHIT!”

“You really need to stop hanging out with Max all the time. He’s teaching you bad words.”

You smirked under your helmet. “I’m a girl whose friends are dominantly male. Mitch you even curse over the radio.”

Max almost didn’t want to look at whatever car was in the second place spot. He knew you’d be devastated if you weren’t there. Last he knew, Lando was behind him with you on his tail. It was your helmet that caught his attention. His body turned to see you standing on your car in the P2 spot.

His heart dropped, but in a good way. He watched you jump off and jump into the arms of the crew. Head pats were definitely deserved as you tried to touch as much of the team as possible. He laughed when you purposefully hung off the banner, just to get closer to the crew who were a bit further back.

He watched you and Mitch hold out your arms (kind of like Lando and Carlos at the Singapore Grand Prix), mirror each other, and then hug it out. He swears he saw the older lady wipe away a few tears.

Next was Christian, who gave you a big hug as Max finally made his way to the wall of crew. It was his turn for hugs, high-fives, and helmet pats.

You had just gotten to Arthur, who held onto you a bit longer than everyone else.

Just for the two of you, he whispered, “If you didn’t have you helmet on, I’d kiss you right here in front of all these people.”

Your cheeks were bright red under the helmet.

Ollie, who had been able to escape from the prancing horse, had also come to congratulate you. His hug was a tag shorter than Arthur’s, but you knew he did it to make your previous hug not look as suspicious.

You had been on the podium time and time before, but this felt different. You don’t know if it was the adrenaline, the sun, or the happiness that ran through you veins that made the trophy a bit lighter or the bubbly a bit sweeter: maybe it was all three.

You were still hungry for a win, starving, but this was just the snack to tide you over.

Down below, Arthur and Ollie had somehow gotten a hand on the boombox once again. You could barely hear it on the podium, but you had a guess. Suddenly, the music screeched to a halt, making everyone confused. You watched as your two boys had a knowing smirk on their faces. The same smirk slowly crept on your face as well.

You turned to Max and Lando, who looked equally confused. You held your trophy to your lips, as though it were a microphone. You pointed at the two men, and lip-synced the words.

“BACKSTREET’S BACK - ALL RIGHT!”

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing 1-2 in the house! The Red Bull Ring was shining as our drivers carried home two new trophies! Congrats to y/n.89 for her first record as she surpasses Lewis Hamilton's rookie points with 124 points total!

liked by y/n.89, maxverstappen, lewishamilton, and 4,203,893 others

y/n.nation THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

y/n_on_top that fight for the win will go in the history books mark my words

landonorris please tell your drivers to slow down so the rest of us can have a chance

charles_leclerc I second this y/n.89 idk, you all just sound like misogynists here... maxverstappen1 what she said

lewishamilton I knew someone would have to beat it. congrats kid

y/n.89 thank you Lew! (someone should take notes ahem landonorris) landonorris sure bug, sure

redbullfan 1-2! 1-2! 1-2!

y/n.lover she is legit currently in p3 for the constructor's championship...what do they feed her?

y/n.89 the tears of my enemies (Charles cries a lot) charles_leclerc HEY redbullracing lots of energy drinks and protein!

arthurxy/n Arthur back in the rb garage - too bad ollie couldn't join them

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 my boys are BACK

liked by y/n.nation, boxbox_express, change_ur_f-car, and 85,395 others

y/n&co God I've seen what you've done for others

rookiefan I kinda feel bad for her boyfriend...but at the same time Arthur is more than happy to show her off (her bf needs to take notes!!)

olliebearman MOM ON PODIUM

y/n.89 did you have a nice nap? olliebearman yes until charles_leclerc forgot my blanket y/n.89 when I find you charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc Charles you better run charles_leclerc HE'S 18?? WHY DOES HE STILL NEED A BLANKET AND NAP y/n.89 you're 26???? why do you still need to call my teammate goodnight? lestappenlove and I OOP

prema_y/n anywayyyyy the second pic is hilarious

Arthur.nation thur is glowing, wonder if he has a gf??

arthurgirly4life I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

boxbox_express the trio no one knew we needed, but the trio that we deserve

arthur_leclerc has posted

arthur_leclerc a driver, a reserve driver, and an endurance driver walk into a bar...

liked by thurthur, ferrari_fanfest, porsche, and 102,284 others

arthur4porsche this makes no sense but it's hysterical??

y/n.89 ollie actually smacked his head on the bar

olliebearman YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T TELL - DAD, MOM IS MAKING FUN OF ME AGAIN arthur_leclerc it was funny? olliebearman grandpa? charles_leclerc yes? olliebearman not you, you forgot my blanket. the better one maxverstappen1 take that Charles

arthur&crew if max and Charles are grandpa...does that make Christian great-grandpa??

christianhorner sadly yes y/n.89 SADLY?? YOU MADE HIM CRYYYY charles_leclerc w o w , could never at Ferrari y/n.89 Charlie, you cried yesterday

redbullracing maybe the driver should become our photographer?

olliebearman has posted

olliebearman why is it that when we're together, we're always eating??

liked by ferrari, y/n.89, logansargeant, and 83,294 others

olliebear WHAT ARE THESE PICTURES I'M DYING

arthur_leclerc blocked and reported for that last picture

olliebearman why? trying to look good for someone?? arthur_leclerc say goodbye to the blanket olliebearman too late, your brother lost it :( arthur.nation HELLO??

y/n.89 I look sexy

olliebearman your boyfriend sure thinks so :D y/n.89 what Arthur said, blocked and reported

prematrio what are these comments??

y/n&co shhhhh just let them

oscarpiastri guess the invites got lost in the mail??

landonorris same here... y/n.89 you weren't in prema? kimi.antonelli thanks for the food mom! olliebearman brother? maxverstappen1 here we go again

change_ur_f-car what a time to be alive

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

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gallifreyanhotfive · 19 days

Text

What Stories Are About the Academy Era? A Guide

@zombies-sold-cheap

Context:

Stories set in the Academy Era/Otherwise Early Days are sparse to say the least (even Divided Loyalties only shows you the Academy through a dream), but you can actually piece together a pretty decent chunk of the Doctor’s early life (while it still remaining very mysterious) using the Expanded Universe. I've done a lot of infodumping in my time, so I'll do my best here by typing up my personal reference guide to this era. Anyway:

Theta Sigma and his friends would attempt to climb Mount Cadon. At the peak, you could apparently see all of time, but they never got to the top because of hallucinogenic snow. While attempting such a climb, Vansell broke his leg, and Theta Sigma fixed it with a time bubble he made from a sonic wrench and some twine. (Audio: Devil in the Mist)

Theta Sigma and Koschei traveled into the past of Gallifrey in search of Valdemar. Theta was horrified by the power that Valdemar represented, but Koschei was intrigued. (Novel: Tomb of Valdemar)

Theta Sigma time-locked his dorm room so thoroughly that even centuries after he graduated they hadn't managed to undo it. (Audio: Time in Office)

Theta Sigma also once used the food machine to get mercury for his own science projects and in doing so almost caused his professor to regenerate. (Audio: Time in Office)

At some point, Theta Sigma and Koschei traveled to the planet Machasma and used sonic agitation to get them out of trouble. (Audio: Darkness and Light)

Theta Sigma, Koschei, and three others were part of a band called the Gallifrey Academy Hot Five (see: my username). Theta Sigma played the perigosto sticks, and Koschei played the drums. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

Millennia came from a wealthy family and was gifted in temporal engineering. She and Rallon had a "thing" for each other (wink wink) (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma once made High Tutor Albrecht regenerate in an incident involving a perigosto stick and a temporal feedback loop. He was reprimanded by Borusa for this. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

Koschei was obsessed with the Necronomicon. (Short story: The Nameless City)

Runcible was the hall monitor at the Academy and regularly got into conflicts with the Deca because it was his job to make sure students were in bed after dark. They have mutual hatred of each other. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Indeed, the Master would one day stab him in the back and kill him. (Television: The Deadly Assassin)

Drax built a skimmer and would sometimes use it to take Jelpax home because they lived close to each other. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma attended Ushas's 94th birthday party. (Novel: The Death of Art)

Theta Sigma engineered a dangerous bacteria that rendered all multicellular life that came in contact with it comatose. This was a huge scandal on Gallifrey, and the Academy thoroughly hushed it up and had all samples destroyed. However, Ushas kept a sample and would one day use it in a scheme as the Rani. (Audio: Planet of the Rani)

Koschei taught Theta Sigma hypnosis. He'd also hypnotize others a lot because he thought it was amusing. (Novel: The Dark Path)

Mortimus once asked Ushas out but was so thoroughly rejected that he thought she wasn't interested in dating at all. Unbeknownst to him, Ushas later had a relationship with Magnus. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma and Koschei were bullied by Torvic. Theta was eventually forced to kill Torvic to save Koschei's life, but when Death came to offer Theta to be their disciple, he had Koschei take his place. He forgot about this deal and lived for centuries under the impression that their places had been swapped and that it had been Koschei to kill Torvic. (Audio: Master)

Despite this, he apparently drew pictures of Torvic in his diary. (Short story: The Three Paths)

Theta Sigma was also bullied by Anzor at the Academy. Anzor would use a galvanizer to make Theta do his navigational homework. He also turned another student named Cheevah into a crystal and threw him off a bell tower. (Audio/Novel: Mission to Magnus)

Koschei was in charge of organizing the end of term parties, but the Eighth Doctor recalled that they weren’t good. (Comic: The Glorious Dead)

Theta Sigma and Koschei would sneak out of the Capitol and go drinking with the Shobogans. (Novel: The Eight Doctors)

Theta Sigma was given an avatroid named Badger as a young child to act as his friend, protector, and tutor. He apparently gives bone crushing hugs. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Theta Sigma did not have a good relationship with most of the House of Lungbarrow. Indeed, his first memory is of Satthralope smacking him so hard he could not walk afterwards. (Audio/Novel: Cold Fusion)

Satthralope would also let the drudges attack Theta if he refused to come to dinner. Drudges are basically servants of the Houses, about two and a half meters tall, and strong enough to hold a fully grown Time Lord in one arm. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

One time, those at the House of Lungbarrow wanted Theta Sigma to return home for Otherstide and even sent Badger to collect him. Theta refused, so they contacted his professor Delox, who proceeded to expel him from her classroom after chastising him on his family in front of the entire class. After this, Theta appeared to exhibit many of the signs I associate with a nervous breakdown. Distressed, Theta came up with an idea that would prove he wasn't what they all said he was - he would go after the Toymaker. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Millennia and Rallon were the only two to join him on this trip, the rest of the Deca thinking them mad. They stole a Type 18 TARDIS, and after making it to the Toyroom, Rallon's body was basically immediately taken over by the Toymaker. The Toymaker had Theta play a game of Capture the Flag. He turned Millennia into one of his dolls, and Theta returned to Gallifrey, the only survivor. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Because of these events, Theta was put on trial. The only two to attend this trial to support Theta were Jelpax and Magnus. Vansell showed up but only to reveal that he had been working with the CIA, having been tasked with watching Theta. Koschei and Ushas had been off working on a research project at the time. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

While Theta, Rallon, and Millennia were gone, Mortimus ran away from Gallifrey, which made many think he had gone with them, and eventually also ended up in the Toyroom. (Novel: Divided Loyalties) Other accounts suggest Mortimus left Gallifrey later, so perhaps he returned after this trip.

Theta Sigma was on the same zero-grav hyperball team as Padrac, who he called "Paddy." (Audio: The Eleven)

Theta and Koschei's "kindergarten spat" apparently almost destroyed the planet. During this time, Theta used to call Koschei "Scabby Knees." (Audio: Blood of the Time Lords)

Theta Sigma had no friends in his very early life. Instead of creating imaginary friends, he had an imaginary enemy called Mandrake. Mandrake was actually a dead lizard he pinned to an engine part that Theta would defeat using a stick. (Audio: The Widow's Assassin)

There was a Hermit who lived behind the House of Lungbarrow on the mountain. Theta Sigma once went to him, depressed and full of despair, and the Hermit showed him hope in yellow flowers. (Television: The Time Monster)

Shimmerlings live in the time vortex, but after a storm, they were stranded on Gallifrey and dying. A very young Theta Sigma saw the Hermit throwing them into the Untempered Schism to save them. Theta asked him what was the point because he wouldn't be able to save them all before they died, and the Hermit taught him the value in saving who he could, despite not being able to save everyone. (Audio: Crossed Lines)

Theta Sigma was the Time Tot Hide And Seek Champion for 42 years in a row, which apparently drove Ushas nuts. (Comic: Weapons of Past Destruction)

When Maris - a retired CIA agent - was hired to find out where Theta Sigma, now probably the Doctor, had run off to in the TARDIS, Ushas and Koschei kidnapped her, interrogated her in an attempt to find where the Doctor had gone, and eventually almost killed her when she knew nothing (she was extracted from the situation before she could be murdered). (Short story: Celestial Intervention - A Gallifreyan Noir)

After graduating, Magnus rose quickly in Time Lord society, which Borusa felt threatened by. Borusa had the CIA manufacture evidence implicating Magnus in treason, leading to him fleeing Gallifrey and becoming a renegade. (Novel: Timewyrm: Exodus)

Koschei befriended a professor at the Academy named Salyavin because he wanted access to the restricted libraries. He wanted to find The Worshipful and Ancient Law of Gallifrey, an act which was illegal. Salyavin took the blame for this, was sent to Shada, and stole the book (since he was condemned anyway, he might as well). (Short story: The Legacy of Gallifrey)

Theta Sigma and Ruath, another student at the Academy who was obsessed with vampires, once electrified Borusa's perigosto stick. (Novel: Goth Opera)

After the Academy, Koschei attended a ritual with Theta Sigma and Susan, then likely called Arkytior, in Arcadia. Here, he gave her a toy, which was actually a communication node that he planned to use to find Theta and her if they ever left Gallifrey. (Audio: The Toy)

According to one account, Koschei led students at the Academy in a coup against Lord President Pundat the Third and tried to convince Theta Sigma to join. Pundat died of stress soon after the revolt and was replaced with Chancellor Slann. There was a second coup, but they were overheard by the authorities trying to yet again convince Theta to help. After each coup, there were bloody reprisals against the students, but Theta, who was not involved, had his memory wiped. Koschei assassinated Slann, but the students weren't ready for another go. He ended up fleeing Gallifrey. (Short story: Birth of a Renegade) There are, however, many other accounts of him fleeing Gallifrey.

Koschei and a "friend" were locked in a bathroom of a bar in the Tower by the Time Lords after a prank gone wrong. The two fought, and the friend left Koschei behind in the Tower, where he remained locked in for centuries. (Short story: Rebel Rebel)

Theta called Vansell "Nosebung" and continued to do so for centuries. (Audio: Neverland)

Theta Sigma came in fourth place in the Time Lord Academy Sprint Championship. (Comic: Space in Dimension Relative in Time)

Theta Sigma fed a snapping wart fowl to Valyes's summer project, and Valyes still holds a grudge over this. (Audio: The Next Life)

Flubbles are koala-like animals with six legs. Theta Sigma used to keep one under his bed at the Academy as an illegal pet. He almost got caught when she went into heat and started performing her mating call. (Novel: Island of Death)

Theta Sigma used to chase tafelshrews - a species almost like rodents - through the snow of Mount Cadon. (Short story: The Three Paths)

By some accounts, Theta Sigma was loomed, and by some, he had parents. In a version where he had parents, his father and Mr. Saldaamir were once working in the House and were therefore ignoring Theta. Because of this, Theta, at this point a small child, caught a cobblemouse and set it loose in the House, interrupting their plans. (Novel: Unnatural History)

A cousin of Theta's - Glospin - used to bully him quite a lot. He once claimed to find evidence in the Loom pointing to the fact that Theta did not belong in the House of Lungbarrow. If this was believed, Theta Sigma would have been executed. This caused the two to have a physical altercation. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

During this fight, Glospin got a genetic sample from Theta, allowing him to force a regeneration into a Theta lookalike. Then, Glospin murdered Quences, the Kithriarch of the House of Lungbarrow (basically the head of the family), before regenerating again, thus framing Theta for the murder. This was because Glospin wanted to become the next Kithriarch instead of Theta, but because of this, the House of Lungbarrow buried themself (the Houses are sentient, did I mention that?) for centuries. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Despite doting on Theta (and Theta generally being his favorite), Quences had been convinced by Satthralope to disown him when he announced he didn't want to be a Lord Cardinal. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Some of Theta's cousins include Quences, Satthralope, Glospin, Innocet, Arkhew, Owis, Salpash, Luton, Rynde, Jobiska, Maljamin, Farg, Celesia, Chovor, DeRoosifa, and Almund. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Grandfather Paradox was also of the House of Lungbarrow from the same generation as Theta, but of course, he never actually existed. (Novel: Christmas on a Rational Planet)

Pandad VII issued a Burn Edict on Braxiatel, but Braxiatel killed his would be assassin. As punishment, Braxiatel was forced to take up the mantle of Lord Burner for some time, the personal assassin for Lord President Pandad VII. He was ordered to erase an old man and his granddaughter (wink wink) who were fleeing Gallifrey from history but refused to do so and let them go free. That very same day, Pandad died when a power relay that was in his office overloaded, but an inquiry led by Braxiatel found that this was an accident. Just an accident. Nothing shady going on here. (Audio: Disassembled)

Magnus tried to drain the Artron energy from a giant sphere from the time vortex. Theta Sigma opposed him and used the gun of a member of the Chancellery Guard to stop him from draining the energy because he had learned that the energy was alive. This set the energy free. Magnus never forgave him for this, and their friendship ended. (Comic: Flashback)

Theta Sigma had a great aunt lived in a house high in the mountains. She would sing him lullabies. The Eighth Doctor said she was "terrible." (Audio: Together in Eclectic Dreams)

Anyhow, I'm spent, so I'll post this now. Might add on some more later lmaoooo

Don't forget to check out the next part in the reblogs!

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worldlxvlys · 2 months

Note

hello🙋🏻‍♀️ I'VE GOT A REALLY GOOD FIC IDEA! i've got a request for dwb!chris. okay, here it goes: reader doesn't answer his texts so he kinda gets worried but since reader is lowkey bipolar he gives "her" space and all but he hasn't seen her in a few days so he kind of gets worried and after a while he finds out she's being held hostage by guys chris have deals with and shit yk? you just go from here just don't kill reader nor chris please🥲 (not yet) ily🫂

taken

dwb! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: reader held hostage, mentions of blood, violence, knives, guns, mentions of gun shots, reader is tied up, cursing

a/n: for @mbbsgf ily <33

it will make more sense if you read prison for life first ;)

silence was the only thing i could hear.

my eyes were open, but i was only met with darkness.

there was a stinging sensation where my hairline met my forehead and a faint ringing in my ears.

i tried to move my hands, but something held them captive.

my fear started to grow as i tried to move my feet, only to find them immobilized as well.

i couldn’t move and i couldn’t see. i needed to rely on the senses that i could use.

taste. there was a copper-like taste in my mouth, blood.

feel. something rough was wrapped around my wrists, it dug into the skin, creating a burning sensation.

hear. i tried to focus on what could be heard beyond the silence. wait, silence ? no, not silence. there’s a slight humming noise, almost like an engine.

smell. gasoline. i’m in a moving car.

fuck. how am i gonna get out of here ?

what if i don’t get out of here ?

are they gonna kill me ?

stop, breathe. you need to calm down.

i focused on my breathing, doing my best to keep it at a normal rate.

i just need to stay calm and think.

CHRIS’S POV

at first, i figured she needed some space. it wasn’t unusual for her to need time to herself, and i’m always willing to give it.

but the second her location turned off, i panicked.

we always agreed to keep each other’s location turned on, no matter how angry we were with each other, to give the other peace of mind.

once her location was off, i immediately called around.

anyone and everyone who could have seen anything suspicious or heard anything at all was called.

the odds of absolutely nobody knowing anything were slim to none.

and sure enough, after a few calls, i found someone who had information.

“yeah, chris. not too long ago, jerry saw your girl with jones and his boys”

my face fell at his name.

“jones?” i asked in confirmation.

“yeah, why ? what’s wrong?”

“he took her. and it’s my fault”

“what ? he took her?”

“i’m getting her back. i can’t lose her”

“i’ll get the boys”

READER’S POV

the car came to a sudden stop as i heard muffled voices get closer.

there was a loud beeping noise before a rush of cold air hit me.

i was forcefully yanked out of, what i assume to be the trunk, both arms being gripped tightly.

i was thrown over someone’s shoulder, which roughly hit my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

i broke out into a coughing fit, trying to regain my breath, which is pretty difficult to do when you’re hanging upside down.

“shut the hell up” a gruff voice spoke.

the voice seemed familiar, but i couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

i assumed that it had something to do with one of the many drug deals i had went out with chris to.

i assumed that this entire situation had to do with chris and his dealing habits, but i really had no way of knowing for sure.

i couldn’t, however, think of any other reason why i could be in my current situation.

hopefully, chris would be able to find me.

after what felt like a long while, i was placed onto a chair.

suddenly, the blindfold that had been covering my eyes was yanked off, making me squint my eyes at the harsh lighting.

i blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the change.

“what’s wrong, princess? the light bothering you?” the man in front of me spoke.

he saw my eyebrows furrow in confusion and removed the piece of tape that covered my mouth.

“you recognize me yet?” he smirked at me.

i blinked up at him.

“of course not. we met briefly a while ago, but i’ll reintroduce myself. i’m jones, jake’s best friend”

my face fell at the revelation.

jake. as in the dude that chris beat to a bloody pulp and put into a coma, that jake.

“that’s right, honey. the one your boyfriend put in the hospital ”

well, i’m fucked.

he took in my frightened state, finding the way i shrank away from him amusing.

“yeah, not sure why your little fuck toy thought he was gonna get off scot-free, but he was wrong. cause i got the one thing he would do anything for, right here in front of me” he spoke as he twirled a knife between his fingers.

“can’t say i blame him though” he whispered as he brought the knife to my cheek, drawing the faintest bit of blood, making me grimace. “you’re a pretty little thing”

his hot breath blew in my face, making me back my head up as much as i possibly could.

“i apologize in advance” he spoke as he ran his finger along the edge of the knife, “but i do have to rough you up a little bit, send a message to your boy”

CHRIS’S POV

“are we sure that this is where he took her?” i asked as jerry pulled up the address.

“the street cams put him here about 20 minutes ago. he couldn’t have gotten much farther”

“i just wanna be sure, we don’t have any time to waste here. but if you’re positive, we need to move now” i spoke as i tucked my gun into my waistband.

suddenly, my phone dinged with a text message.

i pulled it out, seeing it was a text from her.

i was met with a photo, and my heart dropped at the sight.

several bruises covered her face, along with a cut by her hairline that was surrounded by dried up blood.

her face was covered in sweat and her eyes were tired, her white shirt covered in blood.

underneath was a text that read:

123 RANDOM ADDRESS

RANDOM CITY, STATE

better hurry.

READER’S POV

i had been in the same spot for hours. i was cold, hungry, and my legs had fallen asleep.

i was trying, but struggling to stay awake, knowing that i was losing too much blood to let my eyes close.

my face was sore, the constant blows to the face finally taking its toll on me.

there was a deep cut from jones’ knife that laid across my ribcage, but i tried not to focus on the stinging sensation.

i knew i was really starting to lose my grip on reality when i heard chris’s voice, as i knew he couldn’t possibly be here.

suddenly, the sound of gunshots going off around me made my eyes shoot open.

that definitely woke me up.

the ringing in my ears intensified as the sound of gunshots rang out.

i could barely keep up with what was happening as the room around me began to spin around.

i looked directly in front of me and was barely able to make out chris and jones fighting.

so i wasn’t hearing things.

my vision began to get blurry as i struggled to figure out who was who.

the sounds of grunts and blows being landed echoed through the room.

“chris” i whispered out, but not loud enough for him to hear.

chris spoke angrily, but all i was able to make out was, “you fuckers need to learn how to stay away from my girl”

chris was able to get on top of jones, and he punched him over and over again.

he seemed to be blinded by rage, and he had no intentions of stopping.

“chris” i spoke out, loud enough for him to hear this time.

his head snapped up at the sound, and he rushed over to me.

“oh my god, baby. the fuck did he do to you?” he whispered as he worked on untying my restraints.

he gently ran his hands over my wrists, looking at the bruises that the rope left on my skin.

“alright, i got you. come on” he whispered as he picked me up, bridal style.

“you made it” i smiled lightly, before my vision was consumed by darkness.

——

when i woke up, i heard the sound of monitors beeping next to me and i felt chris’s hand laying on top of mine.

i took in my surroundings, realizing that i was in the hospital.

when chris saw that i was awake, he immediately sprung up.

“hey mama, how you feeling?” he asked.

“i’m just glad that you’re here. i didn’t think you would find me” i whispered to him.

he brought his hand to my jaw, lightly caressing it “i’ll always find you, baby. i’d do anything to make sure you’re safe, you know that”

“i love you so fucking much” i spoke as i leaned my forehead on his.

“i love you too, ma. i got you, always” he said as he placed a kiss on my cheek.

—————

thank you to @lustfulslxt for reassuring me and pushing me to keep writing, i literally would not have finished this without you <33

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quasi-normalcy · 10 days

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Actually, you know what? Ever since I learned that Ira Steven Behr signed that grossly unfair letter against Jonathan Glazer, I've been forced to kind of reevaluate some of my interpretations of things in Deep Space Nine.

Like Section 31. I was willing to suppose that it was always and only intended to be villainous. But knowing as I do now that the showrunner who included it is perfectly willing to turn a blind eye to genocide, I'm forced to wonder...was it critical? Was it?

Like, let's consider canon here. In "Statistical Probabilities", Bashir and the other augments calculate, in no uncertain terms, that the Federation can't win its war with the Dominion. Their model even accurately forecasts things that happen later in the series: the Romulans declaring war on the Dominion; a full-scale revolt on Cardassia Prime. The end of the episode kind of pooh-poohs their model, like, "Well you couldn't even forecast what Serena would do in this room" but like...(1) the premise is basically lifted from Asimov's psychohistory concept, which works on populations rather than individuals, and (2) there's even a line of dialogue in the episode saying that the models become *less* uncertain the further you go in time. And indeed, the Federation ultimately wins the war not because any of their assumptions were wrong, but because there was another factor that they weren't aware of: the Changeling plague. The plague that had, of course, been engineered by Section 31 to exterminate the Changelings.

So again you have to ask: *was* this critical? Or was the real message that a black ops division willing to commit genocide is necessary to preserve a "utopian" society, no matter how squeamish it makes a naïve idealist like Bashir? And yeah, the war is ultimately won by an act of compassion, but only *after* Bashir sinks to S31's level by kidnapping Sloane and invading his mind with illicit technology. So...is this really a win for idealism?

And then we have the Jem'Hadar. They're a race of slave soldiers, genetically engineered to require a compound that only the Changelings can give them. By any reasonable standard, they're victims. And yet, the series goes out of its way, especially in "The Abandoned", to establish that they're irredeemable. You can't save them. Victims of colonialism they may be, but your only choice is to kill them, or else they--preternaturally violent almost from the moment that they're born--*will* kill you. And of course, I've long assumed that this was just a really unfortunate attempt to subvert what had become the standard "I, Borg" style Star Trek trope where your enemies become less scary once you get to know them, but like. I would say that there's pretty close to a one-to-one correspondence between this premise and the ideology excusing the mass murder of children in Gaza.

Or the Maquis. There's this line at the start of "For the Uniform" where Sisko tells Eddington that he regards the refugees in the Demilitarized Zone as being "Victims of the Maquis", because they've kept alive the forlorn hope that they would ever be allowed to return to their homes and...Jesus, when I write it out like that, Hello, Palestinian Right of Return. [The episode of course ends with Sisko bombing a Maquis colony with chemical weapons, though it is somewhat less objectionable in practice than I'm making it sound here].

And you know what...I get that DS9 is a show that's intended to have moral complexity, and to be kind of ambiguous in a lot places, and not to give you simple answers and so on. And I'm *not* trying to do the standard JK Rowling/ Joss Whedon/ Justin Roiland thing where a creator falls from grace for whatever reason and people comb through their oeuvre to show that they were always wicked and fans were stupid for not seeing it earlier or whatever. But I will say that these things hit different when you know that the series was show-run for five seasons, comprising every episode that I've just named, by a man who would go on to sign his name to a letter maliciously quoting Jonathan Glazer out of context to drag him for condemning an active genocide. And given that I've been a fan of DS9 for basically my entire life, this is deeply unsettling to me.

#long post #star trek deep space nine

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alexsoenomel · 3 months

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The Reveries Of My Mind (Dean Winchester x Reader fluff/smut)

Summary: What happens when you discover you can feel someone's torment and struggles through an unexplainable bond?

"Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine."

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , vanilla sex, dreams about the reader dying --not too graphic , first person fic

Word count: 6.7k

Note: I took my time with this one. I really like it. I've been struggling to write for so long it feels good to be back. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

And a huge thank you to my wonderful beautiful best friend @ambergoddess444 for being the best beta reader <3

I’m gonna kill him.

I heard Sam’s voice echo in my mind as I was eating my pancakes. I looked at Dean who was stuffing his face with eggs and bacon, not really paying attention to Sam’s resting bitch face.

STOP CHEWING SO LOUD FOR THE LOVE OF CHUCK!

I heard him again and almost choked on my milk.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I answered.

Dean just glanced at me and continued eating his breakfast.

It was Sunday and luck was on our side because we couldn't find a case. This would happen once in a blue moon so we were quite content with having a day off. Monsters sometimes sleep.

After breakfast Sam said he was going to go and catch up on some reading while Dean and I were left alone.

“Can I borrow Baby?” I asked, since it was July and summer was in full swing in Kansas. I wanted to forget about my job – about hunting – I wanted to go outside and feel the summer breeze in my hair in his beautiful Impala. I already knew his answer as soon as I saw his brow arch. He was very protective over his Baby; only allowed me to drive once after I begged him for my birthday.

Absolutely not.

“Why?”

I crossed my arms, my lips thinned.

“Why ask when you already gave me your answer?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, eyes widened as we were sitting at the table opposite of each other.

“I keep forgetting you can do that,” he said, looking away from me.

“You keep forgetting about your mental shield,” I told him as I went to the kitchen to get myself some coffee.

I didn't realize Dean was following me until I heard his voice.

“I can't just sit in silence and breathe while I think about nothing.”

“You mean to meditate?” I chuckled.

“Yeah…that.”

I took a sip of hot coffee Sam made after breakfast and turned around to face him.

“You have to strengthen your shield, Dean.”

“There has to be another way,” he said desperately as he poured coffee into his black mug.

“No there isn't, I told you. Everyone has a mental shield, but the reason why I can hear people's thoughts 99% of the time is because their shield is not strong enough. And how do you strengthen your shield? You shut up and meditate. Focus on it and build it.”

Dean wasn't pleased as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Sam meditates, can you still hear his thoughts?”

“I can, because it takes years to actually strengthen the damn shield and he started meditating six months ago.”

He just rolled his eyes as we went back to the library.

“I don't want you in my head,” he stated.

“I cannot help it, dumbass. Can I take the car or not?”

Dean took the keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of my face. I tried to take them but he refused to give them to me.

Typical.

“I'm driving,” he told me with a smirk.

***

“Where do you want to go?” He asked me as I closed the car door.

“I don't have any particular destination in mind. I just wanted to drive around and listen to music.”

Dean gave me a soft smile before starting the engine. Baby was purring – I could never get tired of that sound; it was smooth and powerful – no wonder he was so protective of her. The car held memories, sacred moments and was filled with stories – good and bad.

“Sounds like a plan,” and with those words we were off.

We were on the main highway, heading to God knows where. Dean, of course being the driver, was controlling the music as well.

Dream On by Aerosmith was playing. I loved that song, but I was in the mood for Van Halen.

Driver picks the music. Shot-

“Shotgun what?” I smirked, glancing at him. I saw he gripped the wheel tighter and licked his lips.

“God, I hate when you do that,” he said. I chuckled.

Front windows were down, summer breeze in my face and hair gently caressing me as Crazy Train started playing. Ozzy was too chaotic for this drive. As much as I loved his songs I wanted something to ease my mind and not encourage my body to produce adrenaline. I dared to change the song.

Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult.

Much better.

“Hey, I was listening to that,” Dean of course complained.

“Well not anymore,” I told him as I showed him a middle finger.

A chuckle left his lips before he spoke.

“Wanna grab a few drinks?”

“Dean I don't wanna get drunk at” – I looked at my phone to check the time – “11am.”

“You don't have to do anything you don’t wanna do. We can buy a few beers and go to our favorite hiding spot. If I get too drunk maybe, maybe I'll let you drive.”

I couldn't believe what I just heard. My heart was racing from excitement. Sam was always the designated driver; Dean would sometimes drive drunk without us noticing. I know that because he admitted that…while we were drinking after a successful hunt.

“Really?” I played skeptical; part of me was. “You're not afraid I'll crash your beloved car?”

“If you do, I'll kill you,” he looked at me and gave me a flat smile.

Fair enough.

“Well okay.”

She won't crash my car.

Well I think she won’t.

I hope she won’t.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the trees blurred on my right side as we passed by; absorbing the warmth and sunshine in my face.

It's My Life By Bon Jovi started playing.

Perfect.

Dean bought a couple of beers and some Slim Jims at the first gas station just before his favorite hiding spot.

The hiding spot was an abandoned house we found a few months ago when we were hunting a vampire nest. It was an old cabin in the middle of nowhere, a few miles away from the main road. After exterminating the nest, we started coming there every once in a while to relax and get away from everything that made us hunters. Sam completely forgot about that place but Dean and I would occasionally go, mainly at night to get away from the bunker’s haunting reminder of the life we were living. There we were just regular folk, drinking and having fun. The house was dusty and old, but dear to us, like a portal to a regular life and what we desperately wanted, but could never have.

As we were approaching the house I couldn’t ignore the strong sense of serenity coming from Dean. His mind was at ease, no racing thoughts, no sorrow he would usually carry within himself – he was happy. I’ve never told him about that; I know he would probably freak out – yell even – so I kept my mouth shut. I would be lying if I said it didn't freak me out as well. Every emotion he would feel, I would feel too and sometimes even twice as strong. It was like a bond of some sort; an invisible string connecting us and letting me see and feel every inch of his mind. I would wake up whenever he couldn’t sleep, I’d laugh whenever he’d laughed and I would get angry whenever he’d get angry…I felt everything and it was driving me insane not being able to talk to him about it, because it was only him I’d felt connected to.

I smiled at him when he turned off the engine, feeling the warmth in his soul. I got out of the car and stretched my legs, inhaling fresh summer air and soaking in the sunshine on my skin.

“Let’s have a picnic,” I suggested, “I don’t wanna go inside. The weather is beautiful.”

“A picnic? Here?” He asked, looking around. Nothing but endless grass fields around us; the highway was peeking through the greenery but we could barely see it anymore.

“You will be fine, princess,” I chuckled, “Besides it’s good to connect with mother nature every once and a while.”

Forest nymph.

He started calling me that when I told him about my love and admiration for nature and my passion for hiking and exploring woods. He told me no sane person loves hiking, but his younger brother understood. Now, occasionally I’d go hiking with Sam.

I ignored his thought, even though I wanted to tell him we weren’t in a forest, and found a perfect spot next to the house and sat down. He rolled his eyes and joined me.

Dean cracked two bottles and I opened one of my favorite honey BBQ Slim Jims and took a first bite. I loved the smooth texture and a light honey flavor mixed with BBQ aroma in my mouth.

“Cheers!” He said lifting his bottle for a toast.

“Cheers, for not dying!”

He chuckled.

“For not dying!”

One beer…

Two beers later we were both feeling the consequences of our own actions. I was tipsy due to my low alcohol tolerance while Dean seemed sober but was far from it. He had a strange gift – being able to fake sobriety. He had been doing it for years and now seeing him behaving like a drunken fool looked strange and unfamiliar.

He was looking at me; green eyes sparkling under the sun making me wonder if he and I were ever meant for something more. I was in love with the idea of being in love with him but it scared me more than death which I had experienced a couple of times. He was my best friend, my annoying best friend with a heart of gold and a shadow he wanted to remain hidden.

We stayed for hours, soaking in the sunshine and summer heat while reliving old memories and wondering if this life we had was worth it. We soon realized, it was.

“We still get to experience this,” I stated, showing him a butterfly that flew in that moment right in front of me.

“Butterflies?” He wondered, tilting his head a little in confusion.

“Nature, dumbass,” I smiled, “And other small pleasures, music, alcohol, food…and also knowing the world is less shitty because of us.”

He nodded in a silent agreement before hearing him call me forest nymph again. His warm green eyes fixed on me, making me a bit nervous. He didn't say a word.

“What?” I finally asked him.

His right hand went into the pocket of his jeans and he pulled out his car keys.

“You can drive,” he told me and gave me the keys.

***

When we came back home safely, since I didn’t crash his precious car, Sam was still in his room, probably reading and Dean decided to take a nap since naps weren’t a regular occurrence in our household.

I decided to continue the book I started a couple of weeks ago. I missed being able to read books I wanted, and not just ones for research purposes. I could still feel him. He was content. I smiled and opened my book.

An hour into the book and a picture flashed right in front of my eyes. I saw blood, so much blood on the sidewalk. Hairs on my arms rose as another frame appeared: it was a girl lying face down, head bludgeoned. A wave of fear rushed over me as I closed my book, not being able to simply ignore it. I knew exactly what this was – Dean’s nightmares – I knew exactly who this was.

Another flash. His hands, covered in blood. He was trying to wake me up. He was calling my name over and over again like a prayer of despair, but I didn’t wake up; I didn’t move an inch.

Usually I would ignore his nightmares; I was too afraid to say anything, afraid of his reaction and not being able to give him a good explanation, but my silence was killing me. Something told me – maybe it was intuition or my impulsiveness, or both – I had to wake him up.

Quickly I got out of my bed and rushed to his room. His jaw was clenched, his body seemed stiff under the white sheet that covered him just below his chin. I could hear quiet moans coming from him as another picture appeared right in front of me – he was on his knees, holding me tight, eyes bloodshot red and filled with tears…My heart broke in a second before I closed my eyes, trying to make it go away. As I approached him I could see his eyes fluttering rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, his forehead glistening with a faint sheen of sweat…I had to wake him up.

“Dean?” I whispered and sat next to him. A whimper escaped his lips.

“Dean?” I called his name again, this time a little bit louder and with a hand on his cheek. He was warm.

“Dean, wake up!” I could feel his shock as he shot his eyes open, taking a deep breath like he forgot how to breathe, shivers running through him – I could feel them all over my skin.

He took in his familiar surroundings before he looked at me.

“You had a nightmare,” I told him.

“Yeah, a really bad one,” he simply added, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache started to settle as he got up and went to the bathroom to splash himself with cold water. He was only wearing black boxers and it wasn’t like I have never seen him shirtless, it was the fact that every time I did, I had to tell myself not to stare like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time.

I swallowed thickly without saying a word.

I have to tell him. I repeated that sentence over and over again. I have to tell him he deserves to know.

When he came back my eyes registered his bulge for a second before looking up. I was praying he didn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, so much for napping,” he lied and started putting on his blue jeans. I knew he was lying, he would always lie and repress his emotions and needs. I knew he was exhausted. Those nightmares had been happening for a week straight; the exhaustion showing on his face in a form of dark circles; the once lively features now appeared subdued; eyes dimmed.

“I saw it,” I utter these three words without much thought.

“What?” He was about to button his red flannel, stopping mid through.

“I saw your nightmare, you have been having the same nightmare for a week now.”

I refused to look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me as he took my words in. I could feel a slight sting in my chest coming from him – shock.

“You can read minds AND see people’s nightmares?”

“Not people’s; yours. It only happens with you, I wake up every time you have a nightmare, I feel every emotion you feel,” – I took a deep breath before I continued; I knew him well enough to know he hated secrets, even though he was a damn hypocrite and had his own – “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out. I cannot control it, trust me I tried, but I can’t. It has been happening for a while and-”

His eyes once trusting shited and now held a hint of disappointment, his jaw clenched. Anger.

Anger and disappointment.

“For how long?” His deep voice echoed in my ears as he cut my frantic explanation short.

I froze. I knew this question was coming. I knew right there that keeping this thing a secret was a mistake. I couldn’t answer it. I couldn’t…

“For how long (Y/N)?” He demanded crossing his arms. I didn’t like the sound of my name when he was angry.

I stood up, barely feeling my legs before I answered: “A year.”

“Does Sam know?” The next question came out less angrily, his voice softer than seconds ago.

“No.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It started as just me feeling whenever you were happy, it was hard to recognise it at first, I thought it was my happiness and then it progressed to other emotions like fear, anger and sadness and after that I started seeing your dreams. I didn’t tell Sam because I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?” He asked like I hadn’t given him the answer.

“I told you I didn’t want to freak you out. It feels like I’m invading your privacy.”

He scoffed.

“No shit Sherlock!”

His eyes widened before he spoke again: “Wait, so that means you can feel whenever I get horny?”

I chuckled. “No, because being horny isn’t an emotion, Dean. It’s a state.”

“Oh thank God,” he expressed his relief.

“I do feel the sudden rush of endorphins and happy hormones every time you come though,” at this point I had nothing to hide, especially when I could feel his anger subsiding. It wasn’t like him to just ignore something that made him angry, but for whatever reason he was over it. Now he was mortified.

“Oh God!” He said and opened the door of his room. “SAMMY! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE WE HAVE SOME RESEARCH TO DO!”

I swallowed a laugh before he turned around.

“We're gonna get to the bottom of this!”

***

Sam was genuinely surprised when I told him about the bond. He would usually try to find an explanation or guess what it was; this time he was silent. No logical explanation, no guessing, no nothing…

“Well that’s something I have never heard off,” he just told you and went to the library to try and find some books about…

Mind reading?

Bonds?

“I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” he said, looking at the spines of old books on the shelves.

“You’re telling me,” Dean agreed.

“It’s not like I’m a monster with abilities.”

My statement was enough to light a bulb in Sam’s head: “Yes but…” – he went to the second shelf behind you, like he knew what he was looking for – “You’re something else.”

Dean and I looked at each other in confusion before Sam pulled a book from the shelf.

“Indigo children?” I read the covers.

“Huh?” Of course Dean had no idea.

“I mean it makes sense, you said you were always highly empathetic, ever since you were a kid right?”

“Yes,” I nodded as he was flipping the pages trying to find a specific chapter. The book was annotated but it wasn’t his handwriting.

“Also you started reading minds when you were 7?”

“Well kinda.”

“Before that it was like a guessing game, you just knew?”

“Sort of.”

Chapter 54. Abilities.

Indigo children are children who are believed to possess special, unusual, and sometimes supernatural traits or abilities.

“I have been on this Earth for how long and I’ve never connected the dots,” I said, admiring my own stupidity and inability to dig deeper. I was never curious enough to find an explanation for my ability; never cared enough to think about it too deeply; when I started living with Sam and Dean five years ago I told them right away what I could do. They first thought I was Azazel’s long lost special kid, the one that was lucky enough to somehow hide in the shadows back when Azazel was still alive, but that wasn’t the case. My parents were killed by a vampire and I’d never met Azazel; I didn’t even know he existed until they told me. I only knew regular black eyed demons.

“So, you were a gifted kid? That still doesn’t explain your ability to do what you have been doing for a year,” Dean scoffed.

Who names gifted kids indigo kids? Seriously?!

You chuckled.

“Wait, you have been able to do that for a year?” You heard Sam, your eyes still on the book, trying to find something, anything that would indicate the existence of the said bond.

“Yes, why?”

“Go to chapter 55,” he told me. I flipped a few pages until I saw: Chapter 55, Soulmate bonds.

An Indigo child can stumble upon an unprecedented neural synchronization when encountering their soulmate. This synchronization extends beyond telepathic communication, as it involves the transmission and reception of emotional states and dream imagery, resulting in an intimate sharing of thoughts, feelings, and subconscious experiences. Although very rare, it is possible for an Indigo child’s soulmate to be mortal, with no supernatural abilities. If an Indigo child does encounter their soulmate the bond can snap into place usually after 4 or 5 years (one case showed it can also happen after six months).

“I read this book before we met so it never crossed my mind,” I heard Sam say as I was absorbing the information. I’d known him for five years…

Five years…

It made sense.

As I was reading the first chapter out loud Dean’s wave of shock made my heart beat faster as Sam went to the kitchen to get some booze. It was like he read my mind. I have never heard of his bond. As much as I loved the idea of Dean being mine, I knew he came with tons of baggage, untreated alcoholism, and rage so immense it made my stomach turn. I was no better though just with less intensity and alcoholism.

That’s bullshit.

My heart broke hearing these words, but I finally got the courage to look at him, and for the first time his face was unreadable. He was silent. And then he just left.

Sam came back with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and three classes in the other.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He left…to process, I guess,” I said before hearing Dean slamming the front door.

Sam, knowing me too well, didn’t say anything and just poured me a glass of Dean’s fine whiskey. I took a sip feeling a sweet burn down my throat. We were silent for a while, my words buried deep in my mind; struggling to articulate my thoughts as if I had any at that moment.

“How do you feel about all of this?” Sam finally spoke, breaking the pleasant silence.

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to blink back tears. I cleared my throat and took another sip.

“I think…I’m scared to tell him he already has me wrapped around his finger with or without the stupid bond,” my answer was honest. I was scared – terrified of crossing the boundary; breaking the only rule I had: no long term relationships. Anything more than a friendship with Dean would end catastrophically; I was aware of that and yet I still secretly hoped. I wanted him to want me, I wanted him to look at me and see a safe space; I wanted him so painfully to see me and think: “She’s worth it.”

“Oh he knows, he's just being a dick about it,” Sam’s bluntness surfaced as he drank his glass of whiskey.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not really following him.

He knows?

“You two have something I’ve only experienced once in my life and yet you refuse to acknowledge it.”

My forehead creased as I subtly tilted my head in confusion. Then I heard Sam’s voice in my head as he looked at me with a soft smile on his face.

Jessica…

“Oh…” was all I could say.

“Yeah, he was scared before, now he’s probably terrified. Talk to him when he gets back.”

“So he can reject me? And probably tell me to move out? Even if he feels the same, I know Dean, and he would rather give up alcohol for the rest of his life than talk about his feelings.”

Sam snorted and nodded silently agreeing with me.

“Trust me. He won’t reject you. He’s my brother, I know him a little bit better than you do.”

***

Dean was gone for hours it seemed. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the bond, so I did what any sane hunter would do – I repressed my thoughts with more whiskey and drowned myself in more research with Sam. The more I drank it felt like I became more sober.

I wanted to know more about this soulmate bond. I wanted to know if there was any other way for people to block me from entering their minds besides strengthening the mental shield.

“I’ve never asked you, how did you find out about the shield anyway?” Sam asked me behind his laptop while I was trying to find books about telepathy.

“A witch told me,” I stated behind bookshelves, “When my parents died I let it control me, I couldn’t stand it, I could hear every single person I came in contact with and it was driving me nuts. So, I found a witch, a good one, and she helped me control it and told me about the shield since she was the first person I couldn’t tap into.”

I remember her fondly. Her white crow would sometimes appear, to let me know she was alive and I would visit her every year on her birthday in winter. I would tell the Winchesters I was seeing an old friend; without adding too much detail, since I knew Dean’s hatred of witches far too well.

“Good witches exist?”

“Oh yeah, she’s wonderful.”

There wasn’t any other way for other people to shield their minds from me, sadly.

“Oh but I think I found something,” Sam told me and turned his laptop towards me. I read the short paragraph and looked at him.

“I can do that?”

“You can try.”

***

Dean was still gone by the time we decided to take a break from research. Sam decided to go for a walk before bed while I went to my room to try and contact Dean through the bond. The article Sam found stated it was possible to contact your soulmate if you focused all of your energy on them.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I laid on my bed and closed my eyes, picturing Dean standing right in front of me. Even in my mind he made me nervous. His aura was so captivating and stoic; you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. His name escaped my lips a few times, eyes still closed, but all I could hear was dead silence.His face still engraved in my mind, I studied his features: his smile lines, beautiful kissable lips, his perfect nose, freckles…

Dean? I called.

(Y/N), what the hell?

He heard me. I could feel my feet going cold as my body went numb. My heart was in my throat.

I’ll explain later! Please come home, I wanna talk to you.

In a second, my mind lost focus as I became more aware of my nervousness and he was gone. I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Crap!” I uttered in frustration and decided to text him.

Please come home.

***

I heard his footsteps thirty minutes later. I was ready for the worst; I was ready for Dean to tell me to leave; I was ready for all of it to end.

I heard him knock seconds later.

“You there?”

“Come in!”

He closed the door behind him. I was in the middle of trying to read my book, emphasis on trying, since the nervousness turned into full blown anxiety and I couldn’t focus on anything but him. I put the book down as he sat on the bed. I was hit with a sudden smell of cigarettes and alcohol in my nostrils. He probably went to a bar.

“How did you do that?” He asked, this time looking me dead in the eyes. His gaze wasn’t soft – I couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated – his eyes bore into mine with such seriousness I’d only seen a handful of times.

“I did some research with Sam. The bond allows us to communicate telepathically.”

“I-I can also do that?”

“If you concentrate hard enough, yeah.”

An astounded chuckle was all I heard. And then:

This is crazy.

I know.

His lips parted slightly once he realized he could hear me. I on the other hand didn’t want him to hear me, but looking at him, seeing the evident worry and fear in his green eyes, I couldn’t control it. It became natural.

“Where were you?” I asked and boldly decided to sit next to him.

“Went to our favorite hiding spot to think. When thinking became too much, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks.”

“And? What are your thoughts?”

His hand gently found mine, intertwining his fingers with mine. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing at that moment. I could feel my cheeks burning as he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I feel like ignoring how I feel about you just made everything worse.”

I’m terrified.

I ignored it and focused on his actual voice. “And I feel like this bond slapped me in the face.”

“You and me both,” I smiled.

Sam was right after all. I didn’t know what else to say but all I could think about was pressing my lips against his. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but my body refused to cooperate with my mind.

I didn’t need to kiss him first, because his lips found mine in a matter of seconds. The kiss was gentle, warm; his lips perfectly pressed against mine. I opened my mouth letting him know he could explore it with his tongue and he was happy to do so. A whine escaped my lips when he broke the kiss.

“I heard you,” he smirked.

Please stay with me. My mind yelled.

“I will,” he heard me. Again.

***

Dean went to get ready for bed and so did I. It was already 11pm, Sam was long gone, snoring in his room after a long walk and I went to take a shower.

It will probably happen.

Maybe it won’t?

Maybe we will just cuddle and sleep?

Yeah right.

Why am I so nervous?

I’m nervous because the last time I was in love with someone he left me for a girl named Karen.

In high school.

Crap.

My thoughts were racing as I was washing myself and getting ready to spend the night with him. I put on my shirt and a pair of clean underwear before brushing my teeth. I turned off the lights and went under the covers. Somehow it was always cold in my room, no matter the season. I focused on my soft pillow and how it felt against my cheek as I turned on my side. That lasted maybe two seconds as my mind kept drifting and wondering what was coming next. The thought of him pressed against me made me excited; his lips on my neck, hands on my hips…

I didn’t even realize I was rubbing my thighs together, desperately seeking some form of release. Thank God I was tired, a few moments later I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and my body finally relaxing. I wondered where Dean was as I started drifting and soon enough I got my answer.

He would always take long showers; so I wasn’t surprised when he came 15 minutes later. He found me peacefully drifting between realms of reality and dreams, and with his hands wrapped around me pulled me back to reality – to him. My back pressed against him; we stayed like this, as my patience was running low and I could feel myself getting wet.

He was melting any sense of restraint I had and even with nervousness practically suffocating me, I turned around and snuggled against him, his chin resting on top of my head. He was warm; skin soft as I took a deep breath to breathe in his scent – forest after rain and him.

“Did you know?” I whispered into him.

“Huh? What?” His deep raspy voice so close to ears made me shiver.

“Did you know that I have feelings for you?”

Sam said he did, but I wanted to hear from him.

“I suspected it, but refused to believe it. Until Sam confirmed it.”

“How did Sam know? I’ve never told him.” I said and lifted my head to look at him. It was dark, but I could still see the outlines of his face – he smiled at me.

“He told me you get smiling eyes when we are together. I didn’t really know what he meant until we took down that vampire nest back in Austin. I told you, you were an idiot for trying to take down a whole damn nest by yourself and you kept looking at me with those dove lookin’ eyes.”

I smiled. I remembered that. It was a few months ago and I was indeed an idiot. He and Sam almost died and I had to do something. I was reckless and instead of coming up with a plan I let my machete go wild.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re hot when you’re angry.”

I could feel his smirk before I kissed him, this time cupping his cheek with my hand. He immediately kissed back, pulling me closer to him like that was even possible. This time, one kiss turned into another and another. We both didn't want to pull away; his hands hesitantly started roaming under my shirt, instantaneously sending shivers all over my body. I took his hands, breaking the kiss.

“Touch me. I'm yours,” I whispered before kissing him again, not being able to get enough. I could feel his little smirk against my lips as he tugged on my shirt trying to take it off. I took it off and in seconds he took his. My mind was focused on him and only him as I felt his soft skin under my fingertips.

You're going to be the death of me.

Likewise, sweetheart.

This time I smiled between kisses. I liked that nickname, I couldn’t wait to actually hear it out loud. He wasted no time before he pushed me onto the bed and straddle me; his lips not leaving mine. We were like two addicts; we couldn't stop; we didn't want to stop. He pressed his hips on mine and I could feel him, pressed against my wet center. A soft moan escaped my lips as my fingers tugged on his damp hair. He moved his lips on my neck, while his hand found my center. A light brush was enough to make me moan his name. I was so sensitive, so vulnerable underneath him; he was consuming every reverie of my mind.

I was growing impatient, but he knew that, and now I couldn't hide anything from him anymore. The bond was stronger now, we didn't even have to try to communicate with one another; it was like breathing.

I lowered his boxers as much as I could and wrapped my hand around his hard dick, earning a groan from him. I pumped him a few times, as my impatience became his. He kissed me before standing on his knees and took my panties off. He stopped for a second.

Adoration – I could feel it through the bond. He was making me blush in the dark; my cheeks growing warm.

You're so beautiful.

Before I could answer him, he positioned himself between my legs and slowly entered me, stretching me nice and slow; his lips found mine again as he swallowed my gasp and slowly started to move. My legs wrapped around his hips, wanting more, more and more…

I was about to get drunk and see stars. My hands were around his neck before I cupped his face. He broke the kiss when we both couldn't breathe, biting my shoulder lightly, his pace becoming faster.

My mind only knew his name as I was chanting it over and over again, like a sweet prayer. He nuzzled his head in my neck, kissing it sloppily.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear.

I was in a complete haze, unable to muster anything but his name.

His nose resting on my cheek, he placed a soft kiss only to swallow my moans once more, as we both started to fall apart.

“Dean, I-,” I wasn't able to speak, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach and I could tell, feel, he wasn't going to last much longer.

“I know, baby. I know. I can feel it,” he said and I wasn't sure if he could feel it through the bond or if my body was telling him – or both.

My moans became desperate; with that voice Dean could make me do whatever his little heart desired.

We came in sync, eyes locked and growing breathless. He couldn't keep my name out of his mouth and I didn't want him to. When he pulled out and laid next to me we were both panting and growing sleepier. I lazily moved closer to him, kissing his shoulder as he immediately wrapped his hand around my torso and pulled me close.

“And you thought we'd just cuddle,” he chuckled.

I raised my head to look at him.

“You heard me?”

“Yeah, we have to figure out how to not hear each other's thoughts all the time.”

“Well…” I started and he just shot me a death glare.

“I ain't meditating.”

I cupped his face, squeezing his cheeks lightly making his lips pout.

“Fine,” I said and gave him a pack on the lips, “we will find another way.”

“Thank you.”

I stayed in his arms until we both fell asleep. He played with my hair and I drew small circles on his chest. He asked me about the research – what I found, what I didn't – asked me about us.

“If it's meant to be it's meant to be,” my eyelids grew heavy as I mumbled the words and drifted to sleep.

Dean kissed my forehead and closed his eyes.

***

I could feel Dean’s hands pulling me closer to him, his fingers digging into my flesh as my ears heard him say my name in a form of whisper. I lazily opened my eyes not knowing if he was awake or not. His fingers dug into my stomach as he repeatedly called me in a frantic tone.

He’s dreaming.

“Dean?” I turned around and even in complete darkness my eyes registered his clenched jaw, while my body felt the stiffness of his.

“Dean?” I repeated again and nuzzled my head under his chin and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. I knew what he was dreaming about – I was dying again and he was trying to save me.

Dean, baby wake up!

I told him through the bond as I stroked his soft hedgehog-like hair. I could sense the fear lingering within him as his eyes shot open, his breathing came in uneven gasps and his chest was rising and falling frantically. I wrapped my hand around his torso and embraced him in a tight hug as the weight of the nightmare still lingered.

“I’m here,” I repeated a couple of times, giving him the reassurance I knew he needed.

“It’s just a dream, Dean.”

His breathing became stable again.

“You died,” eventually he told me. The fear was gone and replaced with sadness – sadness so somber and heavy I only felt once when Charlie died.

“No, I didn’t. I’m here,” I told him and placed his hand on my chest.

“I’m right here,” I said before kissing him. A sigh of relief left his lips.

“I feel like I’m gonna lose it…the same dream over and over.”

He was desperate, so desperate for answers it made my soul ache, but I knew this wasn’t the time.

“I know, and we will figure it out. Sleep baby, I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered before kissing him lovingly. His hand found my cheek as I broke the kiss resting my forehead against his.

“Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine,” I told him as my legs intertwined with his. My hand was on his chest, feeling his heart beating faster. Something was traveling through the bond, something lovely and warm I could only describe it as love. Suddenly I heard it; a whisper traveling through the bond: I love you, before he kissed me again.

I love you too.

Tagged: @lacilou , @littlemadamred , @girls-alias , @captainannatheweirdo , @nancymcl

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silverskye13 · 9 months

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I've... been watching Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood again.....

Blurbles about all the hermits under the cut!

Rendog: Wolf Chimera. He has a human form he rarely uses, and generally gets away in public with the glaringly obvious lie of "Oh all this hair? It's a... uh... rare skin condition." It does help that his best friend is a known doctor and somewhat mad scientist. Shortly after he was created he killed his creator and stole their philosopher stone, entrusting it to Doc, a friend he had before his chimera-fication. He and Mumbo came from the same facility.

Docm77: Military and Cosmetic Automail Engineer. Started off in Rush Valley and, once he decided he knew enough about automail, started to work his way up through the military building specialized prosthetics. He's been trying to launch a body modification program for years, viewing it as a more humane was of augmenting humanity than the fleshcraft that comes with human transmutation. He was, understandably, horrified when Ren showed up on his doorstep one day as a chimera.

Bdubs: Istvalan Creation Alchemist. Bdubs is a freelance alchemist not associated with any military powers -- and he's trying desperately to keep it that way. His creations are intricate, and he specializes in a wide variety of materials. He's best known for his experimental [and extremely temperamental] "Pretty-Alchemy", where he McGuivers transmutation circles and equations on how they "feel" instead of how alchemically sound they are.

Welsknight [and Helsknight]: Soul-bound armor. A pair of swordsmen who were forced into a suit of armor to guard the chimeric facility that created so many monsters. Welsknight, the brains of the operation, is situated in the helmet while Helsknight, the stronger fighter, is bound to the chestplate. They spent a lot of time bickering amongst each other, but when their goals happen to align, they are a force to be reckoned with. When their facility was destroyed, they were ordered to kill the escaping chimeras -- until a very charismatic Ren convinced them to flee instead.

False: Military sniper. She spends a lot of time fending off Doc's advances [ie. automail modifications to help her shoot and aim better]. She's worked her way up through the ranks because of her skill, but her general aversion to leading and governing keeps her out of the upper echelons of Central Command. Instead she finds herself bouncing between command stations whenever uprisings occur in Amestris. She was one of the military officers sent to respond to the chimera facility's collapse. When she recognized Ren among the people escaping, she found there was "too much smoke" to take proper aim at the escaping creatures. She was demoted shortly after the event, not that it bothered her much.

Grian: The Updraft Alchemist. One of the few alchemists who have ever taken up Doc on his offer for cosmetic automail. The wings attach to nerves in his shoulder blades, and after several years of tweaking, actually respond to his movements. He can't fly with them per-se, they function more like an incredibly sensitive glider -- which works just fine for Grian, since he specializes in temperature alchemy, causing dramatic updraft/downdrafts. He was not at the chimera facility event, but has become good friends with many of the people involved through Doc -- he spends so much time getting his wings repaired after his various crashes, he almost lives in Doc's work room.

Tangotek: The Fuse-Metal Alchemist. He mostly uses alchemy in welding and crafting, though he's been known to create fire and weapons on the fly when he needs to. As a state alchemist, he's expected to be a living weapon on some level -- and his powerful alchemy definitely helps with that, though he's best at making walls and fortresses than he is at real standing combat. No one knows how he got ahold of his philosopher's stone -- in fact, most people don't even know he has one. He only uses it when he feels like his life is threatened [or needs a good kick to make something truly impressive]. He used to work in the chimera facility, making containment for the more volatile creatures. He's absorbed a lot of the theory on human transmutation, but has yet to use it.

Mumbo: Lizard Chimera and Chimera Expert. Mumbo's first miraculous use of transmutation was to turn himself into a chimera. Unfortunately, lizards aren't quite as smart as people are, so it took some time to relearn the formula and materials involved. He was subject 0 at the chimera facility, and, once he'd regained his wits, helped in the experimentation into chimera crafting -- though he was under the impression all the subjects were willing volunteers like he was... oh dear. He was the one who orchestrated the escape, and, having befriended Ren by then, escaped with him when the facility collapsed. He swears he'll never do human transmutation again -- except maybe on himself. Like, being able to climb up walls is nice and all, but imagine what he could do with bird wings? Or a bull's strength? Or--

#spazzcat doodles #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #hermitcraft au #rendog #docm77 #bdoubleo100 #welsknight #helsknight #falsesymmetry #grian #tangotek #mumbo jumbo #yes i have more ideas but this is all i could draw tonight and my shoulder hurts ahah #its late anyway i should sleep #anyway enjoy this silly au

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 1 month

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Grifter

@would-we-be-friends-if-i asked:

Sophie Devereux (highly capable grifter/pick pocket, is the Dutchess of Hanover)

@pomrania writes:

I've no doubt that the OG Leverage crew (no diss to the new stuff, I'm just not as familiar with it) all together would not only survive, but they'd come out of the whole thing somehow the rightful owners of the castle, and kick the vampires out. Individually... Sophie's skill at social manipulation borders on the supernatural, so I think she'd be fine because nobody would register her as someone they could and/or should act against; she'd be given a ride back to civilization when she wanted it.

@r0sequarks writes:

Sophie is here to steal art, probably. She would not take the crucifix but also probably wouldn’t be shaving, so less of an issue. She is primed to keep Dracula’s attention, and isn’t going to be writing any letters, but is also good enough at reading people to tell something is wrong and go snooping. I’m really torn on how Dracula would react to her trying to con him - bemused, annoyed? - and could see him deliberately turning her, or letting her leave, or killing her, or her escaping.

@darthlordcommie writes:

Sophie: Charms people for survival. Her entire thing would be to be as good of a guest for Dracula as possible, trying to convince him that she'd actually be really useful as a guide in England. Even odds, made better by the fact that she'd take the crucifix.

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

I decided to do these in title sequence order, which was a mistake because that means starting with Sophie, and she's a tricky one...

I think...her amazing prowess at social engineering will work against Dracula defensively but not offensively. She's very very good at what she does but I can't see her getting Dracula to give her a ride back to the station, for instance. And while I do think she could convince him that she would be really useful as a guide in England, I don't think she could successfully convince him that she'd need to be alive to fulfill that role. (As an aside, check out a fic called A Tale of Two Counts wherein Jonathan Harker makes a similar mistake). Dracula already knows their relationship is prima facie adversarial - I don't think that even the remarkable Sophie Devereaux can convince a vampire that she's friend not food (Dracula has no compunctions about eating his friends).

For the rest though, she's golden. She is absolutely primed to keep Dracula's attention. I agree that Dracula will not react well to discovering that he's being conned, and they say you can't play a player, but I don't think there's any danger of that. Sophie is just better than he is at this. Dracula's fatal flaw is arrogance, and underestimating his opponents. It won't occur to him that anyone would try such a deception, or try it skillfully - Sophie unarguably can figure him out faster than he can figure her out. And once she does - Scheherezade is the roll she was born to play. She can charm him indefinitely, and more importantly, she can pivot faster than he can.

You seem sure Sophie wouldn't take the crucifix - I am less so. It depends, I suppose, on the type of character she has built going in. And since she's a charmer, I think she's more likely to be playing a character who graciously accepts gifts than one who doesn't. There's the secondary question of whether she keeps it - Jonathan forgets about it entirely, but I doubt Sophie would. She's very concerned about the appearance she's putting forth. If it's not in her character to be wearing such a decoration then yeah she'll take it right off again as soon as she's around the corner. In many ways her fatal flaw is arrogance as well - she's unlikely to be unsettled or deterred by the warnings she receives once she has a goal in mind. But yeah, she's not going to cut her chin shaving so it's a bit moot. If she keeps it, she won't take it off to protect her dreams either I think, so she'd still be wearing it while snooping. But again that may be moot because she's too careful a snooper to pass out on the couch of a room she's been explicitly forbidden to enter. She's going to want to stay close to Dracula. She can't work her charms by avoiding the Mark.

Art theft is a nonstarter here in the Castle, and she is very disappointed about it. She tries to draw Dracula into a conversation about his family history to figure out why tf there are no portraits here and it's very fruitful and I'm sure will be very useful information to have if she ever gets out.

If there were even one other human in the Castle serving Dracula she could turn them. But there aren't, which leaves her kind of stuck in an indefinite holding pattern.

Sophie I would believe speaks Romanian, so she may well enter the Castle with some idea of what she's up against - if she believes what she hears. It will be very important for her not to reveal that she does though. If Dracula figures out that she can communicate with other people, he might clock her as a threat and kill her.

Actually... she may also be able to speak or understand Romani or Slovak, which means there are other humans she might be able to get help from: Dracula's movers. Jonathan was unable to win their allegiance, but Jonathan isn't Sophie Devereaux. If she can get access to them ever. I don't think shouting down at them from her window is going to work, and I don't think she's foolish enough to try and risk getting made. Though possibly some degree of nonverbal flirting might lay the groundwork. If she can establish a rapport with one of them she can probably get him to come upstairs to meet with her on Moving Day (June 30th) and that's her exit strategy. It could work - so long as Dracula doesn't catch her at it.

So yes, Sophie Devereaux can surive Castle Dracula. But I don't think she ever gets a glimpse at the Hoard, which is a great disappointment to her.

#leverage #leverage: redemption #sophie devereaux #crooks #actors #leverage week #aristocrats

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drakoneve · 7 months

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Destined Meetings

request: Hey, do you think you could write something where the reader is related to tig somehow, and they're in charming for work or college and they start a relationship with juice? Cute and a little angsty at first?

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: club crimes, reader's mom isn't the best + suggested childhood trauma, alcohol and drug (maryj) use

a/n: there will be another part for sure, but i might make this a bit of a mini-series, lmk what you think. happy reading!

Tig hardly ever talked about it, but he'd been married once. He would rather die than ever admit he loved anyone but Dawn and Fawn, but he loved her. And you, his sweet, sweet Y/n.

His heart clenched at the thought of you. You were only two years old at the time of the accident. The day your mother decided she had had enough of Tig and the life he came with and that she needed to run.

It was that day, when your mother pulled out of Charming and never looked back. She only made it two towns over before she took a reckless turn right off an overpass into oncoming traffic.

Tig could remember the look on Unser's face as he approached the older man in the TM parking lot like yesterday, and how he wished he could go back and convince your mom not to go. Or to leave you, at least.

Unser had just began working with the club back then, and this case in particular had always stuck with him. A woman trying to escape her outlaw husband with their baby daughter who ends up getting into a horrific accident that ends up killing them both? One of the saddest stories Unser had ever heard.

Except for the fact none of it was true.

Because there you stood, alive and well, right in front of the Chief's desk.

"I know it sounds crazy," you shake your head, hopeful look on your face. "I wouldn't believe it either, actually. And I don't really have any proof other than my memories, but I'm sure it's him."

The aging polaroid in you had provided him of a much younger Tig and a woman he recognizes to be your mother back when she was pregnant with you.

"No, no," he waves your worries away. "I believe you. In fact, I remember your mother, vaguely, and you look a lot like her."

You grimace. "Yeah, I've been told a few times. So do you know where I can find Alexander?"

Chief Unser pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and begins writing on a slip of paper on his desk. "This is the address of the Teller-Morrow, the automotive shop your dad works at. I would take you there myself, but I'm swamped here."

"Oh, it's no issue," you shrug and take the slip of paper. "I can get there myself. Thank you for everything, though."

You turn and begin to leave when Unser calls for you to stop.

"I forgot to mention, your dad goes by 'Tig.'"

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Juice stretched out his arms and popped his neck while he wiped his hands with a rag. Two weeks of waiting for one part was finally over, and he could get this damn Taurus out of the shop. He tossed the rag into his toolbox when a sleek black car comes rumbling into the lot.

He leaves the garage to get a closer look and notices the car is actually a classic, a well taken care of (or well restored) '69 Chevy. While he admires the car he notices you, too.

Your hair is partly clipped back, with enough loose enough to frame your face in a casual look. You're pretty, and admittedly he'd be more distracted by you but Juice can tell by the look on your face you're nervous. Juice would know, it's a look he's had to learn to hide.

By sight and sound nothing seemed to be wrong with your car, and Juice can't help but wonder why you're here.

You shut the engine off and exit your vehicle, all the while silently composing yourself. Heart thudding in your chest, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

Juice takes the moment you shut the door to approach further.

"Hello," he greets politely, friendly smile on his face. "I'm Juice, and I'll be taking care of you today. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, no," you shake your head and laugh nervously. "Nothing's wrong with her. I'm actually-"

You pause, close your eyes for a second and bite the inside of your bottom lip. Juice can't help but watch you fondly, finding you oddly adorable.

Finally you open your eyes and flash a bright, genuine smile.

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

"This is gonna sound completely insane," you explain, nervously clasping your hands together. "But, um, I'm looking for Alexa- well, no, Tig, Tig Trager."

Juice raises his brows. "Tig? Uh, I don't know if now's the best time."

It's true, he's currently in Oakland with Jax and Chibs on quick business.

"Look, I know it's inconvenient and you don't know me," you plead. You're closer now and Juice can smell your sweet perfume and practically feel your hopefulness. "But until a couple months ago I had no idea my dad was even alive. And then I found out I was here for weeks before realizing he's here, too."

Your dad? There has to be a story there. Juice raises his hands to either side of your arms, holding you still in hopes to assure you.

"It's okay," he says sternly, but in an endearing way. "Tig's not here right now but he should be soon, so let's head on inside and you can tell me a little bit about you. Just to be sure, no offense."

You smile, relieved to be believed to some extent rather than none. "Thank you, Juice. Thank you."

Juice leads you into the Teller-Morrow through the garage entrance into the larger building. From what you could see on the outside you wouldn't have imagined such a spacious clubhouse inside.

Inside were several pool tables, a couch with mini pieces about, a bar with stools, and other tables each with their own set of chairs. Decorations littered the walls and floors and you laughed to yourself as you noted a nearly full ashtray on almost every surface and a wall completely dedicated to mugshots.

Juice leads you to the bar where he gestures for you to sit as he makes his way around. You slip onto a stool and watch patiently as Juice finds two glasses and turns to you.

"What's your preference?"

You shrug, "Whatever, I'm not partial. On the rocks, though."

He serves you and pours his own drink before setting the bottle down and leaning on the bar on his elbows in front of you.

"So tell me about you," Juice presses softly. He can tell by your fingers circling the rim of your glass that you're not excited for this conversation but he has no choice. "You said you've been here for a few weeks, where'd you live before?"

"Nevada, mostly," you tell him before sipping on your drink. "My mother moved us around a couple times and we lived in Colorado for a while before eventually settling in Sparks."

"Why'd you guys move around?"

You drain the rest of your drink quickly in hopes it'll support you through this conversation. Juice begins to refill your glass without being asked.

"I didn't know it then, but my mom was running from the Sons," you confess.

Juice's eyes widen slightly as he looked you over. What could you know about the club? They were notorious around Charming sure, but with their recent run ins with the ATF has the club struggling and making choices they wouldn't normally make.

You continue, "It wasn't until I graduated high school and I left that she told me my dad was actually alive. Then she told me about the Sons of Anarchy, and everything else I did on my own."

Juice nods, unsure of what to say. He nurses his drink for a moment before reaching for your hand.

"This life is complicated, but we're a family here."

The gesture, simple as it is, riles up all the pent up feelings you've mastered all your life comes rushing forward as tears brim your eyes.

"Family," you repeat and pull your hand from Juice to wipe your tears. "What a weird concept?"

The two of you talk well into the evening and you end up migrating to the couch with a bottle and a large bowl of buttery popcorn. Juice made good company. He's genuine, gunny, and from the way he talks you can tell the Sons are something special to him.

He tells you about himself in turn for the vulnerable information you've given him. You learn he was born and raised in New York before coming to Charming, and he has a little sister behind in the city. Juice tells you he works in the TM garage alongside what he does for the club.

"I'm not stupid," you tell him once you notice his hesitance. "It's not hard to find information on the club from the locals around here."

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm sure. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Before you can the rumbling of bikes coming into the TM parking lot distracts you. Instinctively you grabbed Juice's hand, but let go just as fast as you'd grabbed him. Luckily before he can say anything the door bursts open and income more Sons.

The first is a younger blond man with piercing blue eyes and you notice the President patch on his left. He greets Juice happily before his eyes look to you, and he looks confused but seemingly brushes it off and goes to the bar.

Your dad walks in near arm in arm with another handsome man with scarred cheeks, obviously older than he is in the polaroid you own, but otherwise he seems the same. Its as if he can feel your gaze as he turns to meet his blue eyes to your own.

You stand, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart in your chest. "Hi, Tig," you greet, silently cursing the waver in your voice. Immediately the polaroid is out of your back pocket and in your hand. "My name's Y/n, and my mom's Y/m/n."

He takes the polaroid from you without a word and holds it carefully in his hands. His friend has stepped away towards Juice, likely for questioning.

"I saw Unser earlier today," you continue on. "He told me that I have a grave here in Charming, so does mom. Funny, considering she always told me you were the dead one."

You take a shaky breath in, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "I just... I wanted you to know I'm not dead, very much alive. I don't, like, expect anything from you I just knew I had to say something."

Tig finally breaks away from the polaroid to meet your eyes again, and it makes you feel a bit better to see his blue eyes are as tear filled as your own.

He raises one hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe your tears. "Losing you was the worst pain of my life," he admits softly.

His words crumble your resolve, the walls you'd spent your adolescence building to protect yourself fell faster than they were constructed. You practically fall into his arms, and the two of you break down as you hold each other.

As you sob into Tig's chest he merely cradles you the way he wishes he'd been able to all these years. The way he deserved to have been there for you. He holds you tight against him like he's afraid you'll dissipate and it'll be decades before he sees you again.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he tells you. "We're gonna be okay."

This time, he's not going to be letting you go so easy.

303 notes · View notes

mothdruid · 1 year

Text

The Librarian

pairing: Rhett Abbott x Librarian fem!reader

summary: Rhett wasn't expecting to find you as the new librarian, let alone the one that was teaching Amy's summer reading program. Over the course of the summer program you two start casually dating, falling in love with one another.

wc: 10.3k

warnings: fluff, smut, 18+, mdni, pet names (mouse, darlin', sweetheart), oral sex, hand jobs, unprotected sex (p in v), alcohol use, swearing

a/n: finally! it's here! i hope you all enjoy it!

Rhett had been surprised when he heard that Cecilia signed Amy up for a summer reading program. Summer was meant for fun and helping out around the ranch, not having your nose stuffed in a book. Amy seemed happy about it though, so Rhett didn’t question it too much. What Rhett did question was why he had to go pick her up.

“It’s just for today, Rhett.” Rhett huffed and rolled his eyes for a moment. Rhett got to his feet, grabbing his ball cap and placing it on his head. Why couldn’t she just go pick her up? She was the one who enrolled Amy in the program anyways. Amy was a smart young girl, she made him proud to call her family. Sometimes he wondered how such a smart person had come out of their family. It wasn't that they weren't smart, just not necessarily book smart. Perry had been the only one who went to college, making Rhett hope Amy would eventually follow Perry's footsteps.

After Rhett muttered an agreement, he grabbed his keys and headed out to his truck. The ride into town wasn't too bad, hot like any other summer day. The heat like this reminded Rhett of his youth, days when he was much more concerned about looking cool than reading a book. A chuckle or two would come out when he thought about it by himself, remembering how much of a prick he used to be. He never spent much time in the library growing up, it was never something that interested him. It tended to just remind him of how much he had hated school.

Rhett pulled into the parking lot of the library, killing his engine with a twist of his keys. He waited for a moment before checking his phone.

pick up is inside the library - mom

Rhett rolled his eyes once more, exiting the vehicle and heading up to the doors. Sometimes he wondered how Wabang was able to have such a nice library. Afford one that wasn't falling apart. Rhett made his way in, finding his way up to the main desk. A middle aged woman greeted him, answering his question and pointing him in the right direction. Rhett walked past a few different areas before coming up on a slightly open space. Couches and tables with chairs littered the area with about fifteen kids sitting at them. Some kids were talking amongst themselves, while only a select few were actually reading.

"Can I help you?" A soft and oddly familiar voice interrupted his sight seeing. Rhett was surprised when he turned, seeing you looking at him. It had been years since he'd seen you, high school in all honesty. He hadn't even heard that you were back in town. He didn't remember you ever looking this cute.

"I.. I'm.." You smiled at him, watching as he tumbled over his words. He closed his mouth, jaw clenching as embarrassment plagued him.

"Well, hello to you too, Rhett. I'm assuming you're here for Amy?" Rhett nodded. Why couldn't he just fucking talk?

"When did you get here?" Rhett asked bluntly. One of your eyebrows raised, a little confused by the question.

"Do you mean when I showed up behind you? Or when did I come back to Wabang?"

"The second one." Finally, his words were working again. Rhett looked you up and down for a moment, taking in your brown overalls and white long sleeve shirt. You were holding onto a few children's books, a small silver necklace hanging around your neck.

"Earlier this year, got this job shortly after. I've been flying under the radar. Under your radar." It wasn't a secret that the two of you had a history. Throughout high school the two of you pined over one another, that was until Maria came along. It hurt a little at first, knowing that you weren't Rhett's first choice, but you also knew that his hormones were too high at the time. By junior year the two of you had moved on, only making small talk when needed during class or at school events.

Your family had always been singled out as the "weird" family in Wabang. It was mainly because your family didn't ranch. They didn't do anything relatively "normal" for the culture in Wabang, aside from taking you and your siblings to the rodeo every now and then. It had never bothered you, and sometimes Rhett wondered if that was why he had a crush. You were different, but not too far off. Always had your nose stuck in a book instead of trying to get fucked after the Friday night football game.

Rhett let out an amused noise at your confession.

"That so?" Rhett smiled at you, the curve gathering to one side of his mouth.

"No, it's not. Just pushing your buttons." There it was, that odd quirkiness that seemed to pull Rhett in so long ago. He watched you give him a wink before you walked over to Amy. She was sitting at a table alone, reading a book. His heart warmed as he watched you tap Amy's shoulder for her attention. You leaned over and whispered that Rhett was here to pick her up. Amy immediately lit up, excited that her uncle was the one retrieving her.

Amy quickly gathered up all of her things, shoving her book into her backpack before you walked her over to Rhett. "I didn't know you were getting me today." Amy said with a bit of excitement. Rhett smiled at her words.

"Neither did I." Amy giggled quietly as she started to head towards the front of the library. Rhett nodded his head at you, a soft smile still plastered on his lips.

"I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around cowboy."

Rhett couldn’t believe that he volunteered to pick Amy up. Again. Rhett was finding him picking her up from her reading program more often than he wanted to admit. It had been two full weeks into June, meaning the program was one third of the way done. Cecilia informed him after the first day that it was a six week program. Six lucky weeks that Amy got to spend with you.

Rhett didn’t want to admit that he was going to see you. But he knew deep down that was the main reason. Seeing you for not even a full five minutes was slowly becoming the highlight of his days. Amy and Cecilia also started to notice his happy demeanor after picking her up.

“What’s got you so uppity?” Cecilia asked when they walked through the door. A devilish smirk appeared on Amy’s face. She set her backpack down near the table. Rhett rolled his eyes at the both of them, setting his keys on the table.

“Uncle Rhett likes the librarian.” Rhett narrowed his eyes at her, a look of disbelief on his face. Amy giggled as she watched Rhett shake his head at her and held his finger up to his lips. It was supposed to be their secret, one they didn’t speak about. Cecilia turned around with a smirk on her face.

“It ain’t Mrs. Benson, is it?” Cecilia joked with Amy. Rhett gave her a simple ‘what the fuck’ face, listening to Amy giggle some more.

“No, Grandma! Mrs. Benson’s too old for Uncle Rhett. It’s Miss Y/LN.” Cecilia raised an eyebrow, acting surprised. It wasn’t like she had forgotten who you were, or who your family was. She remembered Rhett talking about you a little bit in high school, and how you would volunteer at the local old folks home. Cecilia had always known you were a kind soul, something she knew that might work out Rhett's rough edges. Amy trotted off to the stairs, running up the steps quickly to go search her room for something.

“Rhett..” He gave her a curious look, not exactly able to pinpoint the tone in her voice. Cecilia threw her dish towel up over her shoulder, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“What ‘ma?” Rhett didn’t like her silence. He slowly started to recognize the situation more than the tone of her voice.

“That’s Amy’s teacher right now. You can’t be messing anyth-”

“I ain’t messing anything up, ‘ma. Besides.. She’d be too smart for me anyways.” Rhett smiled while he thought about you. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like this. Feel more than just the urge to fuck. It was an urge to meet you, learn everything about you, the ins and outs of your very essence.

“Well someone has to be smart enough to look out for you. Lord knows me and Perry can’t do it forever.” Rhett’s gaze flicked up at her from that table, a glint in his look. He hated to admit it was the truth. He wasn’t rushing to settle down anytime soon, but he sure did yearn for it from time to time. And one of those times happened to be now.

Which is what led him to now. Sitting in the parking lot of the library, twenty minutes before he was supposed to arrive. His foot was tapping on the floor near the gas pedal, his nerves finally starting to get to him. After the conversation with Cecilia, he planned to ask you out. But now it was one week later, three full weeks into the summer program. He looked up at the ceiling of his truck, pulling the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes. “Fuck.”

Rhett moved out of his truck, finally deciding that this was it. It was now or never. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Benson who gave him a small smile. “You’re early, Rhett.” He nodded his head to her, walking up to the front desk.

“I know Mrs. Benson, I was hoping to talk with Miss Y/LN. I don’t want to interrupt the kids though.” Rhett whispered to her with a smile. It was a partial truth, he didn’t want to interrupt them. He also didn’t want them to see him ask out their summer learning teacher. Mrs. Benson gave him a knowing look. Was it actually that obvious?

“She’s in the back room. There will be a door all the way down the third aisle of the non-fiction area. Just over there.” Mrs. Benson pointed in a direction near where the kids would be, but not that exact spot. Rhett tipped his hat and gave her a nod with a thank you. He headed off to find you, making sure he didn’t get lost somewhere in the library. Perry would never let him live that down.

Rhett peaked around the corner of what he thought was the third aisle. He was rewarded by seeing an open door at the end of it. He made his way down the aisle, knocking on the wooden door frame when he got to the doorway. He poked his head in, looking around in the old store room. It wasn’t very big, but sizable. There were three aisles within the room, made by many bookshelves that housed old, unused, and extra copies of books.

“Come in!” He recognized your voice immediately. There was a small rustling noise that came from the third aisle, letting him know where to find you. After a few steps into the room he peered around, finding you on your tip-toes trying to grab a book from above.

“Need any help?” Rhett asked, hoping you would entertain his offer. He took in your outfit, a knee length maroon skirt with a neatly tucked in beige button down. A pair of slip-on black Toms covered your feet, which you rolled back onto after not reaching the book. You looked down the aisle at him, surprised to see him, a small smile covered your lips.

“Some help would be much appreciated. Normally,” he made his way down the aisle, “there is a stool. But it is MIA today apparently.” Rhett nodded with a smile, reaching for the book you pointed at. You checked your watch, seeing there was another fifteen minutes before pick up. “Pretty early today, Rhett.”

“Yeah,” he handed the book to you and watched you flip the pages, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, that so?” You looked at him, his warm oases staring down to meet your own eyes.

“Yeah, it is.” You moved back, leaning against the wall behind you. Rhett moved to stand in front of you, your hands clutching the book to your chest. Your heart fluttered, this exact situation being something you had dreamed about since meeting him. You could tell something was different, he was a little different. It wasn’t just the awkward small talk the two of you had while he picked Amy up.

“Well, go on.” Rhett bit his bottom lip for a moment, thinking about the right way to ask you. He had been over it multiple times prior, but now his mind was failing him.

“Would you like to go out? Like to dinner or something.” Rhett ran his tongue over his bottom lip, pulling your gaze away from his. You watched as the slick muscle glided over the dry skin, wetting it thoroughly. Rhett took notice and moved a little bit closer to you. Your cheeks filled with a warmth when you noticed how close he was, only a few inches away.

“I-I would like that, Rhett.” He never thought he would be able to get someone as articulate as you, to stumble over her words. You looked away for a brief moment, turning your head to look down the hallway. Rhett brought a finger up to your cheek, gently pulling your face back to face him. A soft smile matched his soft gaze. He tipped his hat up, leaning closer to you.

When his lips pressed against your it was like fireworks went off. It was gentle, a gentleness you were surprised Rhett had inside of him. One of his hands moved to your waist, just resting, while the other cupped your jaw and cheek. Three weeks of small talk and ruminating on memories had finally come to a precipice. The kiss wasn’t anything crazy, maybe the beginnings of what could have been an intense makeout. Rhett pulled back, the hand on your waist moved to adjust his hat a little bit. His thumb was rubbing your cheek, making your heart flutter.

“When do you want me to pick you up?”

“There ain’t no way.”

“No, I’m being serious!” The two of you had moved to the Handsome Gambler after diner, deciding to get a few drinks.

“How am I supposed to believe that little ol’ you stole a traffic cone?” Rhett could barely picture it in his brain. University years you drunkenly toting home a traffic cone. Not to mention the fact you were apparently living in the dorms at the time.

“I was different then, more wild.” You sipped at your cider while watching him. That dopey smile appeared again, making your heart flutter. It was true that your years at university were a bit more wild. Experiencing everything that wasn’t little ol’ Wabang was exciting at the time. You tried to experience as much as you could while at university. Partying, drinking, smoking, fucking, etc. It was all new and something you needed to try, at least once.

“I just,” Rhett leaned across the table a little bit as his voice lowered, “can’t really picture it.” You cocked your head to the side, giving him a questioning look.

“Picture what, Mr. Abbott?” Rhett felt a heat rise to his cheeks at your words. Mr. Abbott had always been a title reserved for his father, but he couldn't ignore what it stirred up in him. He leaned back into the booth seat, his hand holding his beer firmly on the table.

"Picture you out partying and what not. I'm just used to you being a little bookmouse." Rhett was mentally kicking himself in the ass. Bookmouse? What the hell was that?

"A bookmouse?" Rhett flushed even more, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Yeah," Rhett thumbed the rim of his glass bottle, "cause you liked books and were quiet." Another flutter. You couldn't help but smile at Rhett's cuteness. The way he was talking, both awkwardly and confidently, made you giggle.

"Well, this bookmouse did a lot more than just read books at university." You winked at him. Rhett's mind swirled with possibilities of what you meant. He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself in his pants. "Maybe I'll show you some day."

Rhett raised an eyebrow at your proposition. Fuck, he liked the sound of that. He leaned over the table one more time, "How's about we get out of here?" Eyes flicking towards the door.

"I'd love to but," Rhett's eyebrows knitted together, "I gotta get stuff ready for the kids tomorrow." Rhett had almost forgotten that it was the middle of the week. He actually had forgotten until you grounded him. Rhett nodded, jaw clenching in a casual way. He wasn’t annoyed at you, more or less annoyed with the situation. Rhett loved that you enjoyed helping the kids with reading, making sure they grew up smart. Just like you.

“How’s about,” you mocked with a glint in your eye, “you take me home, cowboy?” Rhett smirked at your request, watching you finish off your bottle of cider. He nodded and finished off his own drink. He climbed out of the booth and offered his hand out to you. You gladly took it, lacing your arm around his.

The walk to his truck was full of giggles, your feet not wanting to keep you balanced. It had been awhile since you decided to drink, mainly leaving it back in your university days. Rhett was there for every stumble though, a smile plastered on his face while he caught you. When the two of you got to his truck you leaned near the rear fender, staring at him. A soft giggle came out of you, earning you a cute questioning face from Rhett.

“Hmm?” Rhett crept closer to you, his hands grabbing the top of the truck's bed. Rhett had effectively caged you between him and his truck. “What’s got you gigglin’ like that?” Rhett leaned towards you, bringing a hand up to tip up the brim of his hat. Rhett was only a few inches away from your face. Rhett couldn’t get enough of this, seeing you nearly pinned underneath him.

“You’re cute.” Rhett could smell a hint of cider on your breath, lacing your words while you talked. “I want you to come home with me.”

“You’re pretty cute yourself.” Rhett tilted his head so his lips were near your ear, “And that could be arranged.” Rhett’s hand traveled down to your waist. You squinted at him, remembering your words from earlier.

“We can’t do anything tho-” The hand that was on the truck came to your cheek as his lips covered yours. It was another gentle kiss, just like the one earlier in the back room. Your hands rested against his chest while his lips worked over yours.

“We don’t have to.” Rhett didn’t want to pressure you into anything. He wanted this to work out. He yearned for it to work out. “I’ll help you get stuff ready for the kids, promise.” Rhett pressed a small kiss to your cheek before removing himself from you. He stepped towards the passenger side door, opening it and gesturing for you to climb in. “Hop on in.”

The ride back to your little house was quick, not too far out of town. You always deemed yourself lucky by getting somewhere this close in town, not out in the middle of nowhere. Rhett’s hand sat planted on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles during the ride. Rhett made sure to get the door for you, offering his hand to stabilize you when you stepped out of his truck. A smile spread across his face when he saw the inside of your place. Art adorned the walls while the shelves of your bookcases were packed full. It was messy but neat, something Rhett always found captivating about you.

“Whatcha think?” You toed your shoes off while you looked at him, balancing yourself against the wall. Rhett took off his own boots then followed you into the kitchen.

“It’s you.” Rhett couldn’t think of any other way your house would be. It felt homey. It felt like you. You grabbed out two glasses from the cabinet, filling them up with water from the sink. You offered him one, which he reluctantly accepted. Water wasn’t his favorite type of drink, but it would do for now. Rhett placed his hat on your kitchen table, sitting down while you sat across from him.

For the rest of the night the two of you joked while getting around your items for the program. Rhett questioned your choices of coloring pages, while you pressured him to drink more water to sober up. A warmth had spread all over him, knowing this is the spot he wanted to be. He wanted to be here helping you get wax paper ready for sun catchers, and laughing about the embarrassing old things the two of you had done.

“Sleep is finally catching up with me.” You checked your phone briefly, seeing how late it was. Rhett hadn’t realized how late it actually was. A part of him was surprised that you were even up this late. He thought you might be the type that went to bed at 10pm almost every night.

“It’s about time I left then.” Rhett didn’t want to leave, he wished he could stay forever. He reached for his hat, fingers barely touching it when he spoke up.

“Or you could stay.” Your eyes met his, watching as his tongue wetted his bottom lip. Rhett tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. The proposition was too tempting.

“Would that be okay?” His cerulean eyes never left yours. After a moment you averted your eyes and nodded. The two of you placed your cups in the sink before making your way back to your bedroom. A nervousness was settling inside of you, a part of you worried that things would get out of hand. Rhett noticed this and placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you in so his chest was pressed against your back. “It’ll be okay, we won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Rhett wouldn’t admit it, but he was also nervous. Nervous to finally have you in this manner, something so domestic. It was scary, opening himself up to someone. It was more terrifying than riding a thousand pound bull. The thrill was much different though. “I don’t have any pants for you to sleep in.” Rhett nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll wear my underwear, if that’s fine.” You reassured him that that was okay before moving out of his grasp. You dug into your own dresser, finding your own sleep shorts and then an old t-shirt. You excused yourself to the bathroom, taking your clothes to change into. You hadn’t expected your nerves to ramp up.

After you brushed your teeth and changed you made your way back to your bedroom. Rhett sat on the edge of his bed, typing out something on his phone. He had shucked off his pants and flannel while you were gone, sitting in his grey boxer briefs and white t-shirt. A flutter stirred inside your chest, making your nerves jump up again. Rhett set his phone on the side table before noticing you were back.

“Oh, hey.” A small smile covered his lips when he saw you. God, you were so fucking beautiful. He took in your messy hair and old Wabang High t-shirt, one that he probably also had laying around somewhere.

“There is a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet.” Rhett nodded before standing up. He stopped next to you, bringing a hand up to your cheek. A small kiss was placed on your forehead. Rhett’s thumb rubbed softly against your cheek until he left for the bathroom. You climbed into bed, a loving smile on your face.

Many thoughts swirled around in your head but one specifically stood out. He is the one you would want to do this with every night. He is the one you wanted to be domestic with. The one you didn’t want to screw up with. Rhett was the one.

The sound of your alarm woke you up first. You quickly turned it off, not wanting the blaring noise to continue any longer. When you laid back down a firm arm wrapped around your midsection. It reminded you that there was someone else inside of your bed. Rhett Abbott. He was pulling you back into his toned chest.

Heat radiated from his chest to your back, igniting a flame inside of you. This is everything you ever wanted. The man you had always wanted curled up behind you, keeping you close to him. If it wasn’t for having to work you would lay here all day with him. Rolling around in the sheets, the both of you treating each other to all the pleasures you had to offer. But alas, the library was calling. You went to sit up, the firm arm not releasing you.

“Don’t.” His voice was gruff, soaked in sleep still. When you looked at him he kept his face pressed into your shoulder blade, rutting his hips into your ass lightly. The heat in your chest moved up to your cheeks, his erect cock pressing into the flesh of your ass. A small part of you loved that he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Hide the effect you had on him, especially so early in the morning.

“Rhett, I have to.” Rhett nuzzled into you, pressing his hips harder into your ass. Rhett was really trying to get you to stay, tempting you with something you both wanted. You didn’t have intentions of giving in fully, but what would be the harm and giving him something to remember?

Rhett’s hand gripped on your hip, you rolling your ass back onto his cock. A groan emanated out of him. “Fuck.” You pulled back from him and rolled over to face him. Rhett moved onto his back as you shifted to hover over him slightly. Your hand snaked under the blanket, palming his dick under the covers. Rhett let out a few more groans and profanities, eventually pushing the blanket down to his mid thigh.

Rhett’s breath was a touch shaky as you dipped your hand below the elastic band. His hips bucked slightly when you fully grasped his cock. Rhett groaned at the contact of your soft hand on his cock. “Fuck, darlin’.” His head fell back into the pillows as you watched him, feeling his cock pulse under your touch. Rhett’s hands drifted to push his boxer briefs down, letting you get a full view of everything. Rhett looked back up at you, oases warm and inviting as ever.

You connected your lips with his, consuming his groans while you continued to stroke his cock. His hips bucked every now and then, trying to get more friction. When you pulled back from the kiss, you moved your mouth down over his cock in your hand. After stopping your strokes you locked eyes with Rhett, letting a large glob of spit fall off your tongue to his cock in your hand. Rhett groaned as you resumed your strokes, a new slick feeling to your hand. You ran your thumb over his head every now and then, collecting his precum to mix with your spit.

“So dirty.” It was all Rhett could say as his hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you up to him. He smashed his lips into yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You never thought Rhett could get this needy, but god did you love it. Rhett’s cock started to twitch more often in your hand, signaling his orgasm was approaching. You pressed your forehead to his when you pulled back from the kiss. Then as faint as a whisper you heard him speak. “Please.”

“Give it to me Rhett, let go.” Rhett’s free hand moved to push up his t-shirt, showing off his flexing abdomen. Without another second Rhett was spilling his cum on your hand and his stomach. A ragged ‘fuck’ fell from his lips, with whimpers mixed with groans following. You stroked him through his orgasm, his hips stuttering and bucking with every stroke. Rhett couldn’t remember the last time a hand job made him feel this good.

Rhett laid there, blissed out on the bed. Rhett could barely focus on the world around him, only focusing on the amazing hand job he just had. He was pulled back from his thoughts when he felt a warm wet washcloth drag over his stomach, He groaned softly when you wiped off his cock, cleaning off all potential left over cum.

Rhett smiled as he watched you toss the washcloth into the hamper, moving back over to him on the bed. “That enough to hold you over?” Rhett pulled his boxer briefs back up around his waist. He leaned up and kissed you, one of his hands cupping your cheek.

“More than enough.”

For the next three weeks Rhett made it a point to show up for pick up early. He would seek you down in the library, not caring if you were with the kids or not. If you were with the kids he would patiently wait, scanning whatever bookshelves were closest. That’s where you caught him today.

“Gonna start reading anytime soon?” Rhett looked up from the shelf to see you. You were wearing a pair of mom jeans today, something you corrected him on a few weeks ago. The baggy sweater you wore complimented them. Rhett put on a little bit of an embarrassed smile as you crept a bit closer. He took his cowboy hat, leaning in a bit closer to you. He was only a few inches away from you now.

He couldn’t help but stare at you. How did he manage to actually capture your attention? Someone this ethereal giving him the time of day seemed like a dream. Your eyes flicked from his cerulean eyes to his lips. Rhett brought his hat up to the side of your faces, shielding anyone from seeing the two of you. It felt like the heat of the library had been turned up a few degrees.

Just as he was about to kiss you, you put your hand up to his chest. Rhett stopped immediately, not wanting to push too far. It wasn’t that he was worried about you not wanting him. You definitely wanted him, or at least that’s what he picked up on from late night texts and pictures you had sent him. “Hmm?”

“I don’t want any of the kids to see.” Rhett smiled. That was one thing he had learned to love about you within the few weeks. Even though they tended to be too much sometimes, you always thought of your summer program kids first.

“You’re right,” Rhett took a step back from you, “wouldn’t want them to get any ideas.” He placed his hat back on his head.

The two of you slowly made your way over to the work area for the kids. They were reading, as usual. You had told Rhett that this was the best way to get the kids to calm down before handing them back to their parents. Amy had always been a relatively calm kid, so he couldn’t imagine what she’d be like riled up.

“End of the week?” Rhett was counting down the days. Waiting for the end of the program to finally show up. Waiting for the night he could take you out, show you how much he cared about you. Rhett ashamedly couldn’t wait to bed you either. His own hand was starting to get boring, the only thing spicing it up was the half naked photos you sent him accompanied by texts about what you’d like to do with him. His brain clung to the memory of you jerking him off, something he couldn’t let go of. Which made the next day extra special.

Rhett barely got a lick of sleep that night, fisting his dick harshly until he came to the picture you sent him. It was as if you knew the effect you were having on him. Sending a picture in this old cowboy hat you had found somewhere, black lace bra and panties on display. It was a good thing that Rhett wasn’t a religious man, because he would definitely be condemned to hell after this month.

So, Rhett made sure to show up to the library an hour early that day, not just fifteen or twenty minutes. Mrs. Benson politely told him that you were in the back room again, a bit of a confused look on her face. He bee-lined for the back room, silently walking in and closing the door behind him. He made sure to switch the lock on the back room door before looking up and down the aisles for you. He found you in the third aisle, in just the outfit he needed you to wear for his plan. He had double checked in the morning, asking for an outfit picture which earned a small winky face with a picture.

The plaid skirt flared out from your hips, stopping at a little bit before your knees. A baggy cardigan covered your top, making Rhett wonder if you had a tank top or anything underneath it. God, he wished he could have done this sooner.

“Hey.” Rhett watched you jump slightly, spooked by his presence.

“Oh my god, Rhett. You scared me.” You held your hand over your chest, Rhett’s eyes trailing to look at your fingertips touching the bare skin of your clavicle. Nope, no tank top. It was the skin he craved to mark up, leave little trails that you could remember him by daily.

“Wasn’t my intention.” He flashed a crooked smile as he took a few steps closer. You could tell there was something different about him today, almost as if he was stalking you. When he reached you he pecked your cheek, making your heart flutter. You loved that he still had this effect on you. You checked your wristwatch, realizing he was much earlier than normal.

“What’s got you coming in so early? There ain’t another hour, well, forty-five-ish minutes before you have to be here.” You went to turn back to face the shelf but Rhett grabbed your wrist.

“Wanted to give you a surprise.” Rhett walked around you, guiding you so your back was almost against the bookshelf.

“A surprise? I don’t recall you saying you had one for me.” Rhett chuckled at your words, leaning in and kissing your jawline.

“Wouldn’ be much of a surprise then, now would it?” Rhett’s lips trailed down your neck, nipping every now and then. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest and shoulders, the material of his flannel soft under your fingertips. One of his hands settled on your waist while the other cradled the other side of your jaw and neck. A soft noise escaped you, urging Rhett to continue with his plan.

“Been waiting weeks,” he lips were soft on your neck in between words, “waiting patiently.” The hand on your waist found the bottom of your baggy cardigan. It was thrilling when he pushed it up slightly, his calloused fingertips grazing over the newly exposed skin.

“Rhett, I-”

“I locked the door.” He pulled back, pupils blown wide with lust as he stared at you. “Wanna make you feel good, the same way you did to me.” You checked your wrist watch again, seeing there was still forty minutes before you had to get the kids ready to leave.

“You better make it quickly then, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett groaned at the title you called him. You had picked up on it throughout the weeks, noticing how his breath would hitch after hearing it. Rhett smashed his lips into yours, a messy kiss pursuing.

The hand grazing your skin under your cardigan moved to the front of your skirt. Fingers dipped between the apex of your thighs, pressing tightly on your pussy. A moan was torn out of you, not expecting Rhett to do this. Was this the surprise he was talking about? It had to be. The hand on your pussy left your body, Rhett pulling back for a moment.

“I wanna taste you.” It felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, slightly worried about the situation. What if someone were to walk in? Rhett did say he locked the door though. Finally you spoke.

“Depends on how quick you can be, Mr. Abbott.” A smirk tugged at his lips. Without warning, Rhett started to drop to his knees. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt, barely brushing the skin of your thighs.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I can be quick.” The heat in your cheeks boiled as you nodded your head. He pushed the plaid skirt up your thighs, kissing newly exposed skin. “Hold this.” Rhett said as he offered the edge of your skirt to you. You grabbed the material, holding it in your hands tightly. Rhett let out a groan when he saw your soft pink lace panties.

Without warning Rhett pressed his fingers against your panties, rubbing softly at first. Rhett could feel a wetness soaking through the front of your panties. He watched as your hands tightened on your skirt, faltering slightly. His hand touched yours, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Keep your skirt up, sweetheart.” Your cheeks burned at the pet name he had started to call you through the weeks.

Rhett moved closer, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He slowly guided them down your legs, taking them off and sneakily placing them in his back pocket. He pressed quick kisses to your thighs before reaching your bare cunt. Rhett pushed his tongue between your folds, licking at your clit. You used one hand to hold your skirt, stabilizing yourself with the bookshelf behind you.

Your mouth hung agape as Rhett flicked and licked at your pussy. One of his arms wrapped under your thigh, placing one of your legs over his shoulder. You gripped the shelf behind you tighter, pleasure mounting inside of you. Rhett brought a hand up, slipping a finger inside of your entrance. It was a stretch, but it wasn’t enough. The sensation made you yearn for more, yearn for more of Rhett to be inside of you.

“Rhett..” His name was barely a whisper on your lips, trying to stay quiet. You looked over at your wrist watch once more, noticing only ten minutes had passed. Rhett pushed another finger inside of you, earning a moan as your head lolled back. His two fingers thrusted into you as his mouth gave all its attention to your clit.

“You taste so good.” Rhett whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “Been thinking about this for weeks.” The hand on your skirt tightened a little bit more, your hips starting to cant forward. You started to roll your hips against Rhett’s mouth, the vibrations from one of his groans adding to your pleasure. Rhett’s fingers prodded at that sensitive spot inside of you, increasing the speed of his tongue flicking your clit.

With that combination you let go, coming all over Rhett's mouth. Rhett’s tongue switched from the quick flicks to slow languid strokes, helping not to overstimulate you too much. Soft moans poured out of you, riding out your climax on Rhett’s tongue. Rhett pulled away from you, his fingers leaving you empty inside. A strong desire within you wished he would fill you again, with his cock this time. But you knew that there wouldn’t be any time for that.

Rhett helped lower your leg down, standing up and making sure you were stable. You let your skirt fall, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You brought his hand up to his mouth, taking the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits, making him groan and adjust himself in his jeans.

“You’re so dirty.” Rhett whispered against your cheek, his forehead resting against your temple. “Told you you tasted good, don’t ya?” You nodded. You popped off of his fingers, licking your lips afterwards.

“Can I get my underwear back?” You asked playfully. Rhett smirked again, giving you your answer. “Really?”

“It’s my prize, sweetheart.”

The two of you left the back room, earning a questioning look from Mrs. Benson. It was only ten minutes before the other children's parents would start showing up. Rhett hung around and chatted with you, letting Amy keep reading her book. Which ended up with her still reading after all of the other kids had left. Rhett said she could use the time, but you knew the real reason why he was hanging around.

It was a Friday night, which meant the summer program was over. It had ended that morning, Rhett showing up early to pick Amy up for the last time. He hadn’t mentioned this ride all week, probably not wanting to pressure you into coming. But you wouldn’t have considered it pressuring, you wanted to see him.

Rhett was beyond happy to see you out at his competition tonight. Even more happy when you gave him a small kiss, telling him to break a leg. It was something you had picked up in college, your theater friends explaining that it was bad luck to wish someone good luck before a show. Which you had explained to Rhett briefly one night while the two of you were cuddled up watching a movie. Rhett couldn’t help but think that was what saved him during his ride, when his hand felt like it was gonna slip from the rope. It didn’t though, finishing his ride without anything bad happening.

Tonight was the first time he was allowed to show any type of overly affectionate PDA. Finding you after his ride couldn’t come soon enough. You were hanging out near the rider area, patient as always. Rhett just needed you, needed to thank you for everything. You let out a squeal when his arms snaked around you, picking you up and spinning you around. You quickly grabbed for your glasses, making sure they wouldn’t fall off your face. Hoots and howls could be heard from the other riders. Rhett tipped his hat after he set you down, hand caressing your jawline. His lips connected with yours, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

It was a gentle kiss, like a lot of the kisses you had shared so far. Kisses at the library, when he took you home after dinner, on the couch cuddled up. So many gentle kisses before, but this one was different. It was something unspoken in this one. An unspoken amount of love for one another.

“Let me take you home.” He whispered, adrenaline still pumping through his system. Rhett hunted down Perry, instructing him to drive his truck home. Perry gave him a knowing look before telling him he was proud of him.

Your heart raced as you sat in the passenger seat, Rhett driving the both of you back. His hand was glued to the inside of your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles. It wasn’t that you were nervous to be with Rhett, that was not it. It was the gravity of the day. The two of you had been keeping things as steady as possible, not wanting anything to get too convoluted while you were teaching Amy. But you weren’t teaching her anymore. The two of you were essentially free now, free to be together to the fullest extent.

“We don’t hav-”

“I want to.” You looked at Rhett, his eyes flicking over to you before focusing back on the road. You adjusted your glasses, “I’m not nervous about doing it or anything.”

“I mean you did promise to show me your wild side one day.” Rhett snickered, remembering the first night the two of you went out.

“I think your surprise at the library counted as that.” You shot him a playful glare as the two of you pulled into your driveway. “It’s just..” Your words trailed off, biting at your lower lip.

“Jus’ what?” There was a short silence. The look on your face was softer now, not as playful. But Rhett could tell you were struggling with something, there was clearly something on your mind. He reached out, rough fingertips gently guided your face to look at his. Rhett knew it had to be now that he told you the thing he had wanted to tell you for weeks.

“I love you.” The two of you said it at the same, confessing your love for one another. You let out a giggle as Rhett flashed you a big smile. He leaned in towards you, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lips moved heatedly on yours, consuming everything you had to offer. His hand shifted to the curve of your jaw, fingers splaying out near your ear. The kiss continued for a moment longer before you both pulled back for air.

“Inside, now.” You demanded.

Rhett killed the engine while you got out. His hand snaked around your waist when you got to the door. While you pulled your keys out, Rhett’s hand sneaked into the back pocket of your jeans. A brief squeeze on your ass had you shooting him a look. He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss onto your neck. “Who locks their door out here?”

“It’s an old habit from the big city.” You explained while you slid the key inside the lock. “Plus, I don’t want any unwanted critters inside.” The two of you stumbled in the doorway, Rhett still close by your side.

“Is that what I am? Unwanted critter?” Rhett joked, hands pulling you flush against him after closing the door. You giggled as he started nipping at your neck.

“Don’t think I’d tell an unwanted critter I love him.” Rhett chuckled at your response. The two of you headed through the hallway, hands and lips traveling all over each other. Rhett’s flannel and hat had been lost in the living room, yours in the hallway.

Once to your bedroom, Rhett started to take a bit more control. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them tight to his. You could feel his cock getting hard in his jeans, his belt buckle digging into your hip. One hand moved to your face, cupping your cheek while kissing you roughly. He kept walking you back until the bed hit the back of your knees. The kiss broke as you went to lay down on the bed, Rhett following you immediately.

"You look so beautiful." Rhett said as he admired your beauty. He finally had you laid out underneath him, a dream come true. His hands ghosted over your sides, grabbing at your hips and pulling them tightly to his. Your arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers combing up through the hairs on the nape of his neck. Rhett’s mouth worked on your neck, groaning as he left a wet trail along your skin.

A small giggle came out of you as he nosed along up your neck. He kissed up your jaw before pulling up to look at you, “What’s got you gigglin’”?

“Oh nothing, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett rutted his hips into you harshly at the name.

“You better watch yourself with saying that.”

“What? Don’t like it, Mr. Abbott.” You teased. Rhett groaned, fingers grabbing your chin tightly.

“You know what that does to me.” You pulled him down and connected your lips with his. The both of you smiled into the kiss as your hips rocked together. His hands moved to the hem of your t-shirt, pushing up the shirt to get access to your skin. Fingers ghosted and trailed up the skin of your midsection. He pushed the shirt up over your chest, exposing the light pink lace of your bralette. Your back arched when he grabbed your breasts, kneading over the lace.

“Like what you see?” You only half joked.

“You have no idea.” Rhett tugged at your shirt more, signaling it was time to remove the article. After your shirt was gone Rhett kissed the valley between your breasts. His hands kneading at your flesh while kissing your chest. His fingers slipped underneath the band of your bralette, guiding it up over your head.

It was the first time he had seen your bare breasts. Yeah, you had sent pics of you in lingerie to him, but never anything completely bare. He pressed a few more kisses all over your chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched slightly, his mouth consuming more of your breast. His thumb and forefinger started pinching and rolling your other nipple. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly.

“Rhett.” His name was barely a whisper on your lips. You could feel him groan around your nipple when your hand trailed down between the two of you. You palmed the front of his jeans, his cock pressing hard against your hand. Rhett sat up, pulling his own shirt off and undoing his belt buckle and jeans. After he shucked them off he moved to undo your jeans.

“A matching set?” Rhett questioned when he saw the light pink lace panties. You had planned it out all week, knowing that you would finally have a moment like this. A moment of being completely vulnerable to Rhett. His fingers ghosted up over your legs as he settled between your legs. You felt completely bare under his warm oasis of a gaze. A bit of nervousness flowed through you, nodding softly as a response to his question.

“Cat got your tongue, mouse?” You shot him a little look. The little name took you by surprise, a small call back to your first night at the bar. Fingertips trailed over the pink lace covering your core. Rhett started rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt, feeling the small wet patch that had started to form. His gaze locked with yours as you let moans and gasps fall from your lips. His hands moved to the edges of the lace, pulling them down slowly over your legs.

After tossing the panties somewhere behind him, he grabbed one of your ankles and lifted it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your ankle. Soft lips continued down the inside of your leg, Rhett slowly settling against the bed. His hot breath fanned over your cunt, your insides clenching at the sensation. Rhett wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping you locked in place before he even started.

Rhett’s tongue flattened on your clit, licking slowly. Both of your hands snaked down, one landing on the comforter while the other took its place in Rhett’s hair. Your back arched, pleasure flowing through you with each lick of his tongue. One of his arms left your thigh, reaching out to your hand on the comforter. He laced his fingers with yours as he continued his feast between your thighs.

Gasps and moans mixed in with calls of Rhett’s name, urging him to continue. Small vibrations could be felt from Rhett’s groans, pushing you closer to your climax. The tightening sensation in your abdomen was becoming more noticeable. Rhett flicked his tongue on your clit then dragged it slowly back and forth.

“Holy fuck…” You could almost feel the smirk on his lips. Rhett flicked his tongue more intensely on your clit, finally pushing you over the edge.

This was a similar sensation that Rhett got from riding bulls, pure ecstasy. All Rhett could think was how beautiful you looked, coming all over his mouth. The way your back arched off the bed, hand tightening against his own. Seeing you give yourself up to him, letting him push you over the edge in such an intimate way had him grinding against the bed. Rhett couldn’t help but think about how good you would feel wrapped around his cock. Being connected at your core.

When he pulled back you finally got a break, your chest falling heavily. A small trail of wet kisses was created as Rhett moved back up your body. He nuzzled your neck and jaw, pressing more kisses before capturing your lips with his. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth.

“You taste so fucking good, mouse.” You rolled your eyes.

“My turn to taste you.” You pressed your hand on his chest, acting as if you were going to roll the two of you over.

“Nah,” Rhett grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours, “I can’t wait to be in you any longer. Been waitin' too many weeks for this.” You rolled your hips up, feeling Rhett’s clothed cock press against your cunt. A groan rumbled in Rhett's throat while he captured your lips with his. One of his hands snaked down between the two of you, pushing his boxers down.

A moan passed your lips when you felt his cock rest against your pussy. Rhett haphazardly pushed his boxers all the way off. You brought your hand down to wrap around his cock. He groaned at the few strokes you gave him before you guided the tip to your entrance. Rhett propped himself up, looking down at you as his hips pushed forward.

Rhett watched as your jaw went slack. The stretch of his cock was intoxicating, filling you up the more his hips pushed forward. Your eyes never left Rhett's, warm oases welcoming you. A small whimper left Rhett once he bottomed out. Your warmth encapsulated him, letting him know this was where he was meant to be. Rhett eventually broke the stare, nuzzling down into your clavicle. Small kisses were peppered all over your skin.

Rhett dragged his hips back a little, slowly pushing forward the small amount. The sensation already had your body shivering with pleasure. Rhett started slowly rolling his hips, wanting to savor the moment as much as possible. He knew that the chances of this activity happening again were high, but he just needed for this moment to last. You wrapped one arm around Rhett's left shoulder, threading your fingers into his hair once more. Your other hand rested on the front of his chest.

"God, you're perfect." Rhett groaned, placing kisses along your neck and jawline. He knew sex would be special with you, but life-changing wasn't what he was expecting. The way your body reacted to every small touch had Rhett teetering on the edge of climax already.

"Rhett, I-" You couldn't finish the sentence, to caught up in the waves of pleasure flowing through you.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Rhett pulled back to look down at you, cupping the side of your face. "Tell me."

"Harder."

Rhett pulled back, leaving just the tip inside of you. He kept his eyes on your face as he slammed back in hard. Your whole body reacted, back arching while your hands scrambled for purchase. Your mouth was agape as sinful sounds poured from it. Rhett kept this steady pace of hard thrusts, giving you exactly what you wanted.

"Oh fuck, Rhett!" The head of his cock pounded into the sensitive spot inside of you. Every time he hit it, a new jolt of pleasure ran through you. The coil in your lower abdomen was tight, about ready to snap and send you over the edge. You could tell Rhett was getting close too, harder breaths coming from him. Rhett didn't say a word, his hand moving between the two of you to rub your clit. That's when it was game over.

The combination of his fingers on your clit and powerful thrusts sent you tumbling over the edge. Pleasure washed over your nerves, Rhett’s finger still working your clit. Rhett groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. His thrusts started to stutter, focusing on the feeling of your walls working his cock. Crescent shapes formed in Rhett’s skin, your nails digging harshly as he kept your orgasm going.

“Fuck, sweetheart. The way you feel,” Rhett pressed his forehead to yours, “I ain’t gon’ last.” You nodded as you stared into his eyes. It was Rhett’s turn for his mouth to be agape, groans and heavy breaths coming from him. Your fingers threaded into Rhett’s hair once more, pulling him down to the nuzzle against your clavicle. Rhett felt safe with you, rutting into your warmth that he had craved for weeks. It was a sense of security, something he had never truly felt in his life.

“Fuck, I love you.” Rhett whispered against your skin.

“I love you too, Rhett.” With those four words and his name he was gone. His hips steadied as he thrusted into you one last time. Small kisses littered your collarbones as he kept his hips tight to yours, spilling his cum inside of you.

The two of you laid there for sometime, Rhett still slotted between your thighs as your fingers traced small circles on his shoulder blades. He traced a small pattern along your side, basking in the subsiding afterglow. That sense of security was blanketed over him. He never wanted it to end, wanting to feel this safe forever. A part of him wondered how he had never felt it before but he knew why. He hadn’t had you before. Not just in a sexual way, but he had never fully experienced this kind of love. The love that let him know he was always welcome. Always loved.

“Hmm?” You questioned, sensing a tiny shift in his demeanor. It wasn’t a bad shift, something much softer than what you thought Rhett might be capable of.

“Nothin’, I just..” Rhett propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. Your beauty was something Rhett could still marvel at. Like watching the early morning sun rise. “You make me feel something.” Small butterflies could be felt in your stomach.

“Feel what?” Rhett smiled, pushing some hair back from your face.

“Welcome.” A kiss. “Safe.” Another kiss. “Happy.” Another kiss. “Loved.” A final kiss. A warmth had raised into your cheeks. The smile on his face was one that was pure. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, just taking one another in. Rhett shifted, pulling himself out of you. Even though he was softened it still felt like you were losing something. Rhett moved to the spot on the bed next to you. You rolled on your side to look at him, letting out a soft noise as his cum started leaking out of you.

“We should clean up and talk.” The look he gave you was one full of sincerity.

“Talk about what?” You questioned. You used a playful tone to mask the tiny amount of anxiety you suddenly had. Rhett must have noticed because he cupped your cheek when he sat up.

“Don’t worry,” he pressed a kiss to your nose, “it’s nothin’ bad, mouse.”

The two of you made your way to the bathroom. Rhett used a warm washcloth to clean himself up, you sitting on the toilet watching him. It was domestic, something you could get used to. Might even let him clean you up the next time. Rhett kissed your forehead before heading back to the bedroom, letting you finish using the toilet and cleaning up.

Rhett had climbed under the comforter when you got back, his boxers being the only thing he wore. He was checking his phone briefly before looking at you, placing his phone on the side table. You moved to your dresser, grabbing a large t-shirt from the drawer. You didn’t bother with any underwear, climbing into bed and curling up next to Rhett. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close.

“So-”

“I th-” The both of you stopped and giggled. Rhett motioned for you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to talk about.” Rhett nodded, thumb rubbing softly on your skin.

“I want to talk about us.” Rhett was never great with conveying his emotions through words.

“What about us?” You teased. Rhett rolled his eyes.

“About how I want to,” Rhet paused for a moment, “want to be with you.”

“Rhett, you ju-”

“No,” Rhett bite his lower lip, “I want you more than physically. I want to be with you all the time.” You knew what he was asking of you. It was funny to watch him still beat around the bush after everything.

“Rhett, I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me.” You said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes once more, letting out a sigh.

“You really gon’ make m-” Rhett was cut off by you pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rhett, I want to be with you too.” Rhett smiled as he kissed you again. His arms wrapped around you completely, rolling the two of you over. He peppered you with kisses, happiness spreading over the both of you. Rhett couldn’t be happier with you, happier with his little bookmouse.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fluff #outer range fic #outer range #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman character

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kaihuntrr · 3 months

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part nine: your highness.

I mean. I did say it was a big update, yeah? I've been waiting for so long to post this chapter, you will not believe how long I've been wanting to talk about it!

Alternate versions of the art under the cut + the actual chapter mwam

It was one thing to fight a beast.

It was another to chase it.

The ship surged through the waves, engines churning to keep up with the pace of the fleeing scuttler. The monster’s blood tainted the blue seas with its red pigment, creating a trail all the way to itself as it swam. It wouldn’t be too much longer until it would collapse from exhaustion. Martyn looked on, still chilled from the water and the breeze, but his excitement kept him warm.

Still, it was strange.

In all his time hunting beasts, Martyn never understood the ones that fled. This one was incredibly peculiar since it rammed into the ship and left without actually trying to strike any of them. This might be more of the weird behavior that Mumbo had mentioned before; they were getting closer to the world border after all. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume this was because of the world border.

This was a chance to look into the beasts’ behavior here, but Martyn wanted to see something else: if there truly was a sea prince near the border.

Supposedly, people got swarmed by monsters before even reaching the border. But they had only been greeted by scuttlers, in a class far smaller and weaker compared to the boneback the Canaries had killed just a few days ago, that was strange enough. Why were people dying here, if there was nothing too significant to claim their lives?

It had to be a sea prince. He just knew it. There were no survivors, no floating bodies, just vast open waters with a chill breeze, exactly as the other parts of the ocean. But it was silent. Far too silent.

“Up ahead! There’s a shipwreck!” Bdubs’ shout alerted the hunters as he pointed forward.

Pieces of debris were scattered along the waters, metal and cloth drifting aimlessly. Martyn took a closer look and gasped.

There were people.

Martyn looked at the others, “Gods– we have to save them! Can the harpoons reach the beast?!” They had to save them. He couldn’t just sit back and watch people get slaughtered. If the scuttler came for them now, those survivors were going to die. They couldn’t handle another attack, but the ship could. They had to get on.

It looked like the scuttler was beginning to slow down, but he needed it dead now.

“We just need to get a little closer–,” Joel hefted his harpoon over his shoulder and prepared to throw it, but his balance was thrown off as the ship jerked to the side.

A shrill cry reverberated through the air. Another beast. Another scuttler. If scuttlers came in groups, maybe the beast Martyn had killed was a part of its little group. Maybe it was sad. Martyn’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. No, it was probably only angry. Beasts feel nothing more than hunger and wrath. Nothing more.

The bleeding beast stopped and turned back to roar at them. It was ear-piercing and horrid, blood spewing out of the scuttler’s throat before it dove down below the waves. It was quiet once more.

An uneasy, fragile silence, but it was silence nonetheless.

“Let’s… Let's get closer to the survivors. Quickly.” Grian’s voice was shaky as he looked towards the survivors of the wreckages. He felt Joel give him a little nudge, but Grian continued to stare. It wasn’t normal for him to be in this wrecked state. Joel sighed. He hated to see his brother in such a state.

Joel gave his harpoon to Bdubs, who looked all too eager to take it from his captain’s hands, and walked to Lizzie, glancing between her and Grian. “Do you want to stay downstairs for a while? I can handle steering.” Joel held Lizzie’s hand as she nodded, “Let’s head down, then.” He and Lizzie passed Martyn by and Joel gave him a small smile before disappearing below deck.

Martyn hoped Lizzie was okay.

The ship moved slower, carefully passing through the water and stopping before a pile of floating wood and a group of people bundled up together. Martyn could see the broken wooden boards and dented metal, sails shredded and scattered across the water. The survivors all sat on a floating piece of debris together, far bigger than the other broken pieces. It was like something shielded them from the disaster.

Scar lowered the rope ladder to the survivors with a smile, “Come on, we’ll get you to safety!”

None of the survivors went up immediately. Martyn raised an eyebrow as one of the survivors squinted at him.

The survivor wore a black coat with gold linings, split red and black hair, an eyepatch, and multiple accessories. “You… you’re the king’s hunters, aren’t you?”

Martyn nodded. “We are. Why are you asking?” He tilted his head, noticing the weird looks the survivors were giving him. Was there something he said? He wouldn’t want to lie. He wouldn’t want to say more words than needed, either. They needed to get on board.

“Tch. Spoiled brats. As if we’ll accept help from you!” Another survivor spoke up, crossing his arms. He wore an open purple vest, sash, and pants with dusty-rose hair in twin braids. He looked away from the Canaries to stare at his reflection in the water instead.

What?

Martyn looked at the others, as if questioning if he heard them right. They were out on open waters. If Martyn had just lost his ship and survived a monster attack, he would’ve accepted any help he could get, so why wouldn’t they?

He shivered at the thought of surviving a monster attack. There was no way he was going to lose the Canaries– they were the best at hunting, no beast could tear them down. Not even a sea prince. He knew they would be fine. He wouldn’t be a survivor. He was a hunter.

Cleo placed their hand on Martyn’s shoulder and smiled softly before turning to the survivors, “It’s dangerous to be here. The scuttlers may have left for now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back,” they motioned to the rope ladder. “Just get on.”

“If it’s so dangerous, then why are you here?”

“We don’t have time to talk about it here,” Cleo shook their head, “Come on.”

Never in Martyn’s life did he experience such a stubborn group of people. What were the Canaries supposed to do if they continued to refuse? Leave them to die? That was plain wrong.

A dark thought loomed in his mind. If they refused to come aboard, maybe they could just be bait for the sea prince. Martyn shook his head. Nope. Bad idea. Not good. Do not think of them like that.

The raven haired survivor turned to the others, “It’s safer to be on a ship than it is on these planks,” she began to climb the ladder. She wore a black hat, dress, and boots with white pants and pink vest. “Drop your disdain for a while. It’s better to come back alive than dead.”

At least one of them made sense.

As she climbed up, Martyn watched as the other survivors reluctantly followed her on board. The raven haired survivor sighed the moment she stepped on board, but gave the Canaries a smile.

“I apologize on their behalf, though I’m not a part of their crew,” the survivor looked at Martyn, her head tilted, “You’re the king’s hunters?”

Scar spoke faster than Martyn did. “That’s right!” He puffed out his chest, “We’re the Canaries; we’re on an important mission!”

The survivor laughed. “Ah, that sounds like fun. I hope this isn’t too much of a detour, but they’re a bit injured,” she motioned to the others, “Do you think you could pause your mission so they could return to shore to recover?”

Martyn took a closer look at them. The bruises and some bandaged wounds made it look like they had been in a fight with each other rather than a monster.

Who let these lunatics out to sea?

Another survivor walked up to the first, her hair was a fluffy white and brown split with shades that covered her eyes, a fairly fancy cravat with a red sash and brown pants with a black coat and hat with gold lining, “We’re just fine, Katherine,” she crossed her arms, “It’d be better if we were on our own ship though.”

Katherine shook her head. “That’s not true. Just trust me on–”

A scuttler’s roar interrupted her. Their ship jerked and began to rock from side to side as something suddenly jostled the side of it. It had come back from the depths, but at least the survivors were on the ship.

“Oh by the gods–,” Grian groaned. He looked at Katherine and the other survivors, “You should lead the others downstairs, it’s safer there.”

Katherine nodded. She proceeded downstairs and shook her head at the crew of survivors, “No time for arguing, let’s go.”

As Katherine and the other survivors headed downstairs, Joel emerged and quickly ran up to meet with the Canaries. “It’s back?!”

The beast growled, circling around the ship and snapping its jaws.

Mumbo walked up to the others, placing the telescope back in his bag, “Just the one, it seems,” he shrugged. “No idea where the bleeding one went.”

“It’s one less problem to deal with,” Joel shook his head dismissively. He raised his voice to grab everyone’s attention, “Let’s just do what we did earlier! Harpoons, everyone!”

The scuttler suddenly charged forward, ramming itself against the ship’s walls. The sound of something cracking reverberated through the air.

“Cleo, Bdubs, with me!” Joel waved to the two of them, all three quickly mounted the harpoon guns along the edge of the ship. They fired at the beast just as it crashed against the walls of the ship once more, making it start to rock wildly again.

The loaded harpoons were attached to thick rope anchored to metal parts of the ship, they latched on to the beast as it dove and thrashed underneath the ship. Blood poured out of the cracks in the scuttler’s armor, staining the water. The monster writhed in pain, but it persisted, attacking the ship again.

“Why didn’t we use these earlier!?” Bdubs complained as he held the harpoon gun steady and turned his head towards Grian. “This is so much easier than chucking them!”

“It’s hard to use the harpoon gun if the beast is biting the ship!” Grian shouted back. He turned and yelled across the ship, “Scar! Martyn! Catch it on the port side! We’ll let it struggle to death under the ship!” Martyn and Scar nodded and ran to the left. They leaned over the rail, holding their hand held harpoons steady, then threw them down in tandem as the beast emerged from the underside of the ship.

The scuttler shrieked in surprise from the harpoons suddenly piercing into its exoskeleton. Grian turned to Mumbo and Joel, “Mumbo, you and I can take straight shots at the beast, Joel, handle the steering,” he gave the two a smile. “Let’s take it down.”

Cleo, Bdubs, Scar, and Martyn secured their guns as the beast continued to toss and turn under the ship. Any slip ups and the weapons would fall off the ship. Such was the risk of trying to wear it down, but Martyn didn’t mind it. Any method to kill the beasts was a good one.

The scuttler suddenly surged forwards, dragging the ship behind it. Its blood spread across the water as it started to swim in a circle. The waters became faster and rougher as the beast swam in loops, a whirlpool began to form.

A whirlpool.

“It's trying to drag us down!” Grian’s eyes widened as he lurched forward, grabbing onto the rail to call to the crew. “Cut the ropes!”

If the scuttler was dragging them around, there was only one place for it to be. It had to be in front of them. It was the perfect moment to take the kill as soon as possible. Martyn had to act.

“Wait!” Martyn’s sudden shout caused the others to pause and look at him. “Don’t cut them- I have an idea!” He picked up the spare handheld harpoon at his side and ran forward to Grian and Joel.

“Wh- Martyn–!” Joel quickly ran to Martyn’s harpoon gun and steadied it, the wood beginning to chip under the force of the beast.

Grian looked at Joel and Martyn with his eyes wide. Martyn hefted his harpoon and used it to motion towards the beast, “If it’s bringing us down, I can jump off and stab it.”

“No- that’s a bad idea,” Grian shook his head. “We have other ways–”

“It’s quicker and more effective,” Martyn gripped his harpoon. Water splashed over the edge of the deck as the beast growled. Martyn glanced back at the others, then back to Grian, “There are survivors on this ship and I did not expect a scuttler to be so much trouble for us.”

Grian shook his head again. “D0n’t do it.”

“Let me.”

“You are not jumping off this ship, Martyn,” Grian growled. It wasn’t normal to see Grian like this. This… angered state. He glared daggers into Martyn’s eyes, surprising Martyn as he swiftly took the harpoon and clenched it in his hands. “That is an order from your captain.”

Martyn narrowed his eyes. There was no use for titles here. It certainly wouldn’t stop Martyn. “If I don’t kill it now, it’ll capsize the entire ship!” he hissed, a sudden surge of water crashing into the side of the ship as if agreeing with his statement. He took a quick glance at his crewmates, holding on to the sides and mast for dear life. “We’ll all die!”

Martyn attempted to reach for the harpoon, but Grian pushed him away. “There should be a better way to kill it–” Grian raised his voice. He gripped his hair and hissed as the scuttler roared. Even under the watery depths, it could be heard from the chaos surrounding them. “I just need some time to think!”

“There’s no time!” Martyn screamed. He was sure he and Grian were being overheard. He placed a hand to his chest, practically begging at this point. “I’ll be fine, let me do this!”

“Martyn,” Grian grit his teeth. He took in a sharp breath, trying to steady his hastened heartbeat, “I’m not–”

“I don’t see why we’re arguing over this–” Martyn leaned closer to Grian and snatched the harpoon from his hands in a quick and forceful manner. He could see Grian’s distraught look as Martyn tried to figure out what was going on.

“Because I can’t lose you again, Jimmy!” Grian stomped his foot on the ground, tears welled up in his eyes before he covered his mouth. For a moment, Grian forgot where he was. The blonde in front of him was unrecognizable as his heartbeat quickened and his hands gripped his face tighter.

Jimmy.

Martyn’s world fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to react.

“I’m not going to die like him, I promise.” Martyn smiled, leaping on the bowsprit extending beyond the figurehead of the ship, holding his harpoon above his head.

“Martyn, wait–!”

Martyn held his breath as he jumped into the water. A sudden rush of cold swallowed his entire body as water flooded his senses. It was a shivering, bone-chilling cold. Martyn quickly remembered how much panic flowed into his body when the cold shock hit. It was a bad decision, but a decision he knew he had to make. It was for the greater good.

The scuttler groaned as it trashed around, the harpoons stuck into its exoskeleton made it hard for the beast to move but it still looked eager to sink the ship. The rush of the whirlpool pushed him along as one of the scuttler’s beady black eyes turned towards him and it began to slow down.

It saw him. Good.

The scuttler twisted and turned within the lines of thick rope trailing from the ends of the harpoons, its energy waning as it struggled to snap its jaws at Martyn. Martyn just needed to swim closer, aim for its soft spot, and swim up after. It shouldn’t be a problem. Martyn focused on the beast, drowning out the sounds of roaring tides and the creaks and groans of the ship as he swam down, forcing his way through the rippling whirlpool to get closer to his kill. His hunt.

Martyn gripped his harpoon tight as he swam closer, the beast shifted and turned to its side, leaving itself exposed. That was his chance! He propelled himself forward, preparing to strike as the scuttler bellowed in pain as the ropes continued to tire and choke it out. He was close. It could have been the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but Martyn thought he could hear the beast’s rapid heartbeat sync with his own.

Goodnight, monster.

Martyn grabbed an edge of the scuttler’s shell and used all of his energy to plunge his harpoon into the beast. He felt the harpoon’s sharp edge stab right through the beast’s soft flesh as blood mixed with salty sea water.

With one loud screech, the scuttler burst out of the water and knocked against the ship in its frenzy to escape the ropes and harpoons that dug into its back and chest. Martyn gasped for air as he held on to the beast for dear life, digging the harpoon deeper and deeper into its chest as more blood spilled out of it. It dove back down into the water again, bashing its cracked exoskeleton against the ship’s metal side as it let out a deafening roar. Martyn held onto the harpoon as the water closed over his head again and the beast forcefully drug him down into the depths.

The scuttler thrashed against the harpoon, clinging to its final moments of life as it struggled and flailed and tried to hit him. Martyn twisted the harpoon, causing the spearhead embedded in its skin to tear the wound further and further open as blood rushed out of the bleeding beast. His heart pounded against his chest, full of fury and manic adrenaline. It was over. His eyes stung at the salty sea water. Martyn shut his eyes and kicked himself away from the beast as it sank deeper into the depths. He got to live another day at least.

Martyn took in a deep breath as his head breached the surface. He looked up to see the ship, while in need of repairs, was still in one piece, and so was his crew. “See, Grian?” he shouted as a laugh escaped him. Grian leaned against the railing and sighed, cracking a weary smile. Martyn smiled, “Everything is just–”

The world suddenly turned dark as rope wrapped around his ankle and dragged him under.

The forceful and sudden drag to the bottom shocked Martyn to his core, paralyzing him as his world got darker and darker.

Martyn could barely see the glimmer of light from the surface as he writhed in the watery depths. This monster brought him down with it, like some sick karmic justice.

This was it, then.

Martyn shut his eyes, the beating of his heart slowed as darkness began to swallow him up. Hunters were meant to die a glorious death, but this death was preventable. Grian was right. This was reckless. Stupid. Nothing but his own hubris brought this upon him, and this monster wasn’t even one of the more dangerous ones.

He was only surrounded by the haunting abyss, and his own thoughts.

How were the Canaries going to fare without him? How would Grian react, knowing he was right? Grian shouldn’t blame himself. This was Martyn’s own doing. His own fault. The cold grip of the ocean was suffocating. Was this how Ren felt? Alone in the cold? So far from his crew, from his life, from everything? Martyn couldn’t bear imagining it.

He couldn’t imagine how Scott was going to react.

Scott told him multiple times how much this was a bad idea. He should have listened- he should have stayed.

I’m sorry, Grian.

Thump.

I’m sorry, Ren.

Thump.

I’m sorry, Scott.

Thump.

Martyn could’ve sworn it was his own heartbeat resounding in his ears. Maybe it was a push for him to stay alive, to keep his life from slipping away from his grasp but–

CRUNCH.

Thump.

The sound reverberated in the mass empty void.

That wasn’t his heartbeat.

Martyn opened his eyes. He saw light. A blurry, faint light.

His blood ran cold.

What was he looking at?!

Its eyes were a piercing orange and blue, unlike the black beady eyes of any ordinary beast. It had massive red fins. Something that looked like coral was growing out of its head, adorning like a crown.

Two details were brought to his attention almost immediately at that moment:

It was the largest thing he’s ever seen.

It looked human.

From the face to the shoulders, it– he? Martyn wasn’t sure– had a human body. Its hair was long and teal, faint tips of orange as it floated aimlessly in the abyss. Martyn could be tricked that this was a human, if not for the strange markings, hair, and everything else that made it look… monstrous. How did a beast look so… human?

A crown made of coral. The creature’s large size. A beast he’s never seen before. It looked nothing like any beast Martyn had fought before.

Thump.

A thundering heartbeat.

It’s–

The beast tilted its head and narrowed its eyes. The low growl that reverberated through the water was enough to make Martyn shiver.

It’s a sea prince.

Its hair whipped around its head as it inched closer and closer to Martyn.

It swallowed, Martyn’s eyes darted from the sea prince’s piercing eyes to the small lump that travelled down its throat. Its eyes widened, the faint light burned into Martyn as it seemingly froze in place. Time stopped at that moment, those wide eyes stuck out to Martyn as it illuminated the dark ocean. It looked… shocked? No. Monsters don’t feel. They shouldn’t feel.

It barely opened its mouth but the sound echoed through Martyn’s ears as it growled. The sea prince lowered itself into the gloom of deep water, then turned around and disappeared into the darkness. The last thing Martyn saw before it faded into the gloom was its long tail swishing behind it, nearly hitting him as the sudden motion lurched Martyn’s body up towards the surface instead.

He couldn’t bring his head above water. The rushing, agonizing sound of the ocean flowed out of his ears as he was dragged onto the deck by several sets of hands. He was placed on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

Clear blue skies. Clouds of lazy white and gray. Passive sounds of birds.

No heartbeat.

He stared at the sky as he heard the distant shouts from his crew. He could feel their eyes on him, but Martyn couldn’t turn his head. He couldn’t blink. He couldn’t say a word.

“Martyn– Martyn, are you okay?” Grian crouched down beside him. “What happened?”

“Of course he’s not okay– he nearly drowned!” Cleo snapped. They let out a disgruntled sigh and shook their head before kneeling beside Martyn. They placed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid and unsteady heartbeat of their friend. “Focus on your breathing, Martyn. Deep breaths.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Martyn’s eyes remained glued to the sky. “I saw…,” his voice was quiet, prompting Grian to lean closer to Martyn. Martyn took deep, ragged breaths as his eyes glazed over the sky. “I saw…”

Martyn pictured the sea prince’s eyes locked onto him. The unnatural, piercing, yet alluring eyes staring out of the darkness. The crown of corals it wore on its head looked as elegant as they were deadly, viciously sharp points that could pierce the hull of any hunter ship. Its fangs were... haunting, even just a glimpse of it made his skin pale. Something was pulling him deeper into the tides, deeper into the abyss.

It was something terrifying.

Something terrifyingly beautiful.

Martyn took one last breath before his eyes rolled up into his head and he succumbed to exhaustion. His mind faded to darkness, yet those haunting eyes felt like the last thing he saw.

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