#and it will add so much to my eventual season 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lxclerc · 2 years

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𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬𝟓𝟓

SUMMARY: if charles can't value what's in front of him then carlos is more than willing to take on the role. REQUESTED: yes but it's for a personal friend. WARNING: kinda toxic carlos, unrequited love, asshole carlos (not towards the reader), a little bit of angst, SMUT, 18+, oral (f receiving), mean carlos, slight corruption kink (blink and you'll miss it), overstimulation, spitting, lost of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex, fluff PAIRING: reader x carlos sainz, reader x charles leclerc WORD COUNT: 6.6k

NOTE: this was meant to be much much longer but i decided to cut it into 2 parts. part 2 will lead to eventual threesome with carlos and charles. let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

part 2: call out my name

masterlist

The first time Carlos met you, he knew you were off limits. Always following Charles around with that same lovestruck look in your eyes, your body coming alive whenever the monegasque touches you. Your affection for him is written all over your face.

“We’re just friends,” Charles is always quick to correct whenever anyone assumes otherwise. “Best friends,” he’d add as if that made it better and Carlos would watch the way your face would fall, lips slightly quivering as if you’re about to cry on the spot.

Frankly, Carlos thought it’s a waste. Why are you, whose incomparable beauty and wit, is settling for a man who very obviously doesn’t return your affections? Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself? Do you enjoy the pain?

Carlos has very few bad things to say about his teammate, getting along with him so well he’d even consider him a good friend but one thing is for sure, Charles is an idiot for not claiming you given the first chance to do so. Can’t Charles see the longing looks and lustful gazes frequently thrown in your direction, Carlos’ along them?

Though he supposes he should thank Charles for handing you to him with a pretty little bow, for letting you slip through his fingers so Carlos can snatch you right up.

But Carlos bided his time. Charles is Ferrari’s golden boy, their walking god. The prodigal son he’s called. Il Predestinato. The Chosen One. Carlos is the newest member of the team, one with much more to prove. Charles may very quickly deny speculations between the two of you but his claim all over you is still evident. In the way he touches you, the way he keeps you firmly by his side. Carlos had far too much to lose by immediately creating tension within the group.

He’s a patient man. He can wait, plan and plot. And so apart from the usual hellos when you meet each other and the mandatory polite smiles, he stayed away from you, choosing instead to always keep a watchful gaze on your figure whenever the two of you are in the same room.

He’ll play the game and he’ll play it well. He’ll wait. He’ll wait patiently knowing that by the end of it, it’ll be you puny on his palm. And it’s not like you notice, far too busy over your unrequited feelings for the monegasque to even look in his direction.

In his time watching you, Carlos learned so many things about you, things not many people notice. He learned your mannerisms, what makes you tick and what makes you smile, what makes you frown and what makes you pout. He knows your coffee order as well as his own and the foods you don’t eat. He learned the things you like and disliked, learning you till he’s got you memorized like the back of his hand, all his knowledge about you being kept safe for when he finally deems it’s time.

It isn’t like his attraction for you is pure though. Carlos wants you in such a primal way, wants to take you, to claim you. He can barely remember the amount of times he’d touched himself to the thought of you.

It seems the universe is on his side though. He hadn’t even needed to do anything to have you falling straight into his arms.

It was after the Bahrain grand prix, the first race of the season with Ferrari taking home a 1-2. Everyone is in their best mood, drinking the night away as celebration for the best opening start of the season. Carlos found you in the nearly empty hallway leading to the bathroom away from the crowd of people. You’re leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped around yourself, cheeks red and wide eyes a little less bright than usual.

You look like a wounded angel in your little white dress, legs and back bare with your hair falling beautifully over your shoulder, shorter strands littering your face. You look breathtaking and Carlos couldn’t not approach you.

And so armored with his usual friendly smile, he situated himself next to you. “Hey.”

You look up at him from under your eyelashes, offering him a smile of your own. You look sad though and he can’t help but hate Charles a little bit for it. “Hey, Carlos. Congratulations on P2.”

Carlos smiles at you again in thanks. “What are you doing here?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. In his drunken stupor, Charles had found a woman to entertain him for the night, all wrapped up in her on the table you shared.

But you only shrug your shoulders and the action made his eyes travel to your collarbone to the V neck of your dress leading to the valley of your breast. Your skin is covered in goosebumps and he noticed your visible shiver.

“I needed a breather,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie. You need a breather from Charles and his suffocating presence. “How about you?”

The truth was that he followed you after he saw the way you removed yourself from the group, eyes downcast and bare skin so tempting he couldn’t not follow. He ignored your question and instead shook off the jacket he wore, placing it around your shoulder. You smile at him, a little less sad than the one you gave him earlier, as you slip your hand through the sleeves, the jacket being much too big and practically swallowing your body.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, both leaning against the wall. You look a little lost in your head, still hung up over the sight of Charles kissing some girl he just met. For the longest time, you’ve managed to convince yourself that you’re fine with your place beside him even if he never returns your feelings. Loving Charles has always hurt but you’ve been doing it for so long that you’ve become familiar with the pain, even allowing it to bring you comfort.

Carlos sighs, practically hearing your thoughts as his hand reaches towards you, placing them on your shoulder to force you to face him. For months, he’s watched you torture yourself over Charles from afar but he’s only now realizing that he can’t do it from up close with your sad, defeated eyes staring back at him.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he says and Carlos had to control his breathing as you looked at him like that, eyes so wide and naive, looking so pure and lost. He wants to protect you and ruin you at the same time. “You deserve better, cariño, not a boy who doesn’t know how to treat you right.”

“He’s all I’ve ever known,” your voice breaks a little and he wanted nothing more than to punch his teammate at that moment.

“That doesn’t mean he deserves you,” he says through gritted teeth.

You’re unable to say anything else as you melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his torso and he pulls you to his chest. His arms around you are tight, seemingly trying to keep you together as you break apart.

The two of you stay like that for a few seconds. You don’t cry, which is a good thing because Carlos doesn’t think he can handle that without marching back inside the club and punching the living daylights out of Charles, but you do stay in his arms, your hands clutching at his shirt.

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he says, deciding that the best thing for you right now is sleep. You only nod, lightly pulling yourself away from him.

The bar you guys had went to was just in the hotel lobby, a small place with barely any people and so he leads you out, hand firmly clasped against yours as the two of you ride the elevator to your floor.

“Charles…” you start, voice quiet. “Charles has my key card.”

Carlos nods. “You can stay with me.”

He half expected you to argue but you only nod your head as he leads you to his own hotel room, swiftly swiping the card to open the door, opening it bigger for you. The rest follows swiftly. Carlos lends you clothes to change into after having decided to share a bed. The two of you made quick movements to prepare for bed, the long day had you exhausted and determined to get under the covers.

And yet, as soon as Carlos turns off the light, it’s like all of your exhaustion melted away, finding yourself wide eyed as you stared at the ceiling, his presence next to you pressing against your skin. You’ve shared a bed with a man before, of course. Ever since you were kids till adulthood, you and Charles never had a problem sharing one. But Carlos’ presence is much different from Charles’ familiar weight next to yours. Carlos’ feels demanding, firm. His skin feels a little too hot, causing you to lightly pull down the covers to reveal more of yourself to the chilly, air conditioned air.

It’s a little terrifying. He feels much stronger than you. But it’s also a little exhilarating, your mind daring you to reach forward and touch his skin. He’s not wearing a shirt and you’re tempted to run your fingers through his chest, his jaw, his hair.

“Carlos,” you speak softly, still staring at the ceiling.

“Hmm?”

“Can I touch you?”

He doesn’t think you know how your question sounds. He doesn’t think you know how the innocence in your voice makes him want to wrap his hand around your throat. But nevertheless, he nods despite the fact that you can’t see him. “Yes.”

You don’t need to be told twice, shifting so you’re facing him, the darkness bathing the two of you hiding the blush in your cheek as your hand reaches forward, soft pads of your fingers hesitantly placing themselves on his jaw.

Your fingers are cold as it slides from his jaw to his neck, palm pressing against the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. His own hand places itself on your waist, drawing circles on the fabric of his shirt as your hand finally reaches his chest, tracing every bump and hollow curve till you reach his abdomen.

Carlos sucks in a breath, his hand flying to wrap around your wrist, stopping your movement. With the minimal light, he can see the way you looked at him, so so innocent as though you don’t understand why he stopped you.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, amor,” he warned you, voice quiet as he stared into your eyes.

But a pool had started in your panties and for the first time that night, you actually feel alive. You wanted more of him. You want him to make you forget. “Make me forget tonight.”

Carlos groans at your words, cursing in Spanish that you barely had the time to decode before his lips are on yours, climbing on top of you as he holds your wrist over your shoulder. You moan into the kiss, trying to pull your hand away to be able to touch him again but his body is firmly pressing you against the mattress, knees keeping your legs open.

“Carlos,” you whine, desperate for some sort of friction as you rut against him.

“Don’t whine.” His voice is low and demanding, full of authority as his lips sucked on your neck, finding a sweet spot that had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head. He’s sucking and biting, flawlessly marking up your neck as you all but fall apart under him.

“Please,” you mutter breathlessly, still pulling at your wrists. You’re desperate to be touched, trying to create as much friction as you wiggled under him.

“Please what, angel?” Carlos mocks. He’s waited for this for far too long to be nice now.

“Please touch me,” you don’t even hesitate, Charles being the farthest thing from your mind with Carlos all over you.

“Where can I touch you, niña bonita?” his words rushed through your veins, close enough to feel the thump thump thump as he pressed his lips against your jaw, planting open mouthed kisses

“Everywhere,” you breathe out and Carlos grins, finally letting go of your wrist, giving you free reign to run your fingers through his hair as he makes a quick effort to rid you of your – his – shirt.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, wanting to be absolutely positive that this is what you want to, that you aren’t just letting your emotions get the best of you.

“Yes, Carlos, please.”

And who was he to deny such pretty pleas?

His lips left a path of destruction everywhere he touched, the burning sensation of his breath against your skin going straight to your core. Eventually, he reaches your nipples, tongue swirling and fingers pinching the other. His teeth marking all over your breasts as he continued his trail down.

“Stop me,” he tells you as his fingers pull the garter of your panties. “Stop me or I won’t be able to stop, baby.”

“Don’t stop,” you quickly say, writhing under him. “God please, don’t you dare stop.”

“You don’t have to call me god. My name is just fine,” he mutters against your skin as he pulls your underwear down. If this is the only night he gets with you then he’s going to make sure to ruin any other man for you. “Thought you were a good girl, baby. Always looking so innocent.”

His lips pressed against your clit, tasting the honey that seeped out of you, causing you to shudder as he situated himself between your legs, elbows pushing your legs apart. His tongue flats on your clit, swiping a lick as you moan out, fingers clutching desperately at his hair, a chorus of pleases and Carlos tumbling out of your lips. He doesn’t think there could be a much better sound as he pokes his tongue into your entrance, your tight walls pushing him out.

Your body is arching up as he sucked at your clit, making Carlos place his arm around your stomach, pushing you back down as his other hand gathered your wetness, spreading it all over your folds before slowly pushing in, a cocky grin on his lips as your moan grows louder.

His tongue and fingers worked together, one slowly pumping in and out of you as he let you adjust and his lips sucking into your clit. He swears he’s meeting his creator as you come into his mouth, voice becoming strangled and your back once again arching as you scream his name, loud enough that Carlos hopes everyone in the floor can hear it. You sound angelic and sinful all at once.

“One more, pretty girl,” he tells you. “Tan bonito como este,” he tells you, watching as you shudder with each swipe of his tongue. You’re far too gone to even care about what he’s saying. “Y todo mío.”

Your fingers running through his tousled, demanding him to keep going and to stop at the same time, the faint taste of iron on your tongue as you bite your bottom lip, soft angelic melodies of his name escaping your lips. He sucked harder, wrist working faster as he added another finger in, pumping in and out of you at a much faster rate than he had a while ago, working to bring you to your second orgasm of the night, one he knew you needed but in reality, he needed more.

"That feels good doesn't it love? You like it when I touch you like this?" Carlos groans and rubs your clit faster. You buck your hips and nod quietly. "Use your words angel," he taunts.

"Yes, yes, oh my god, yes please. yes," you moan loudly.

“Good,” he says, a smug smirk playing on his face. It’s incredible how easy it is for you to submit to him, to beg to his name as if he’s your newfound religion.

It’s an ego thing as his tongue carved Sainz on your clit with the promise of making you his. His kisses stamped your inner thigh, teeth gently nibbling on your skin as he marked what’s his. You don’t know it yet but you’re his. Once he’s done with you, you’ll never want another man again. His tongue slipped inside you, his finger now tracing his name.

“Can I… can I come please?” Your voice is shaky and broken as you ask him, full of obedience that he didn’t even have to teach you as you so easily surrendered yourself to him and his control. In that moment, your body belonged to him and you both knew it.

“Look at me. Look at who’s making you feel this good,” he demands, your cum dripping from his lips. It takes effort for you to even comprehend his words and much more to force your eyes open as you meet his hazel ones. His efforts doubled in speed and strength, your screams becoming louder as he pushed you to the edge.

You gasp loudly as you feel your whole body trembling even more and then you feel your body tense as you come against his mouth. Your whole mind feels like exploding and all you can see is stars. You feel so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’reexperiencing, your body is still trembling as you feel yourself come down from your high.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he tells you softly as he crawls over to your side, brushing the hair from your face and placing his lips on you. Your body is motionless against his as you climb down from your back to back orgasm.

“Open your mouth, cariño,” he says, gently tapping at your jaw. You comply as he spits into your mouth, the taste of you now present on your taste buds. You’re quick to swallow, making Carlos grin at you. Your undeniable submission to him gives him a kind of satisfaction.

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” He asks softly, hand on your cheek a deep contrast to what his fingers had been doing to you a few moments ago. “Do you want to stop?”

You shyly shake your head. Carlos thought you looked most beautiful like this, so incredibly ruined for him. “I’m not- I haven’t–” you start, stuttering over your own words.

“Speak up, cariño,” he tells you and your cheeks heat up even more.

“I haven’t…done it,” say finally, voice increasingly getting shyer with each syllable.

For a minute, Carlos was frozen, not having expected your admission. You’re twenty four years old after all, he had expected you to at least have some experience, but he knows you’re telling the truth from the light blush on your cheeks as you all but hide your face to his shoulder, touching him so surely as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

He could feel himself melting a little, your shy smile and red cheeks so adorable that he couldn’t help but smile back at you as he wraps his arm around your naked figure, pulling you closer towards him.

“We don’t have to,” he assures you. “We can just go to sleep now.”

“I want to,” you’re quick to say, placing your chin on his shoulder. “I was saving it for…”

For Charles. You don’t bother finishing your sentence, you both already know. The sting in his chest is instant, a reminder that you’re not his, at least not fully.

And then the pride rolls in. You’ve saved this for Charles for years, probably rejecting a multitude of men along the way and yet you’re so willingly offering it to him now, with no hesitation and no question with the monegasque the farthest thing from your mind as you stared up at him with those big eyes of yours.

Before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours again, whatever little softness his kiss carried a while ago is gone now. He’d never let you go, not when he’s already got a taste. There’s no way he’s ever letting you go now, not when you’re holding on to him like that, nails digging on the skin of his back, naked body pressed against his.

And if he does lose you, if another man gets to touch you after him, he’ll make sure to ruin you for them. He’ll make sure it’s him on your mind every time, his name you’re begging to scream out.

You’re warm. Tingling with anticipation threaded into your nerves and heat. And you feel your body throbbing all at once as Carlos claims your mouth. Your hands are eager, pulling at the shorts he’s still wearing, a whine at the back of your throat.

“Carlos,” you breath out, needy all over as he takes his time marking your skin.

“What did I say about whining?” He asks, immediately getting you to shut your mouth and instead settling for biting your lower lip.

Still though, Carlos does as you ask, pulling away from you in order to remove his clothes. You gulp as you watch his unbearably hard cock reach his stomach. He was carved by god himself you’re sure. No mere mortal can possibly look as beautiful as he does now in all of his naked glory, chest perfectly refined, hair tousled and back and arms littered with scratches.

Heat travels to your cheeks once you realize you’re staring. You try to avert your eyes but Carlos is crawling back at you, hands cupping your cheeks as he all but forces you to meet his eyes. “You can stare, Amor. I’m yours to look at.”

His declaration ignites a blazing warmth in your chest, giving you the courage to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you in order to once again connect your lips. He’s yours. He’s yours. And you’re his. You’ve never felt this alive before, never quite felt like this before. Not with any man and not with Charles. You’re his. You know that now.

“You’re beautiful,” you mutter to no one but the world as his lips travel from your lips to your jaw.

Carlos only hums as his lips travel all over your face and neck. You whimper as his mouth presses kisses all over your sensitive skin, your hands traveling to his hair and tugging lightly.

“I have been thinking about this moment for so long.” He rasps, kissing your throat softly. Your body trembles against his as he continues to cover your face and neck with kisses.

Your brain is all over the place, eyes heavy and clouded as you try to tell him how much you’ve been wanting him. All your thoughts overwhelm you, disabling any rational understanding of what is going on. You just want him. You need him.

All you can taste, all you can feel, all you can see, all you can think about is him.

The whine that comes out of you only drives Carlos to seek out more of those sounds, they are potentially the most amazing sounds he’s ever heard. Your arms wrap around his neck, in an attempt to bring him closer to you, your hips accidentally move against him making him groan.

“Didn’t take you for the needy type, angel,” Carlos teases and you want to tell him to stop, to just fuck you already. You needed him so badly but you know doing so will result in nothing. He’s going to kill you with anticipation, have you begging for his touch.

“Carlos,” you beg, wanting to cry with unmet arousal. “Please. Need you so bad.”

“Shh,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

His lips travel to your breast, greedily claiming your nipple with his mouth. His tongue circles your most sensitive nerve, making you let out another moan. You whine as your cunt starts clenching around nothing, begging for attention. Instinctively you start moving your hips against his making him groan against your skin. His lips leave your breast with a wet pop and he looks at you intensely as you try to catch your breath. You’re panting, barely able to think straight.

He groans as you continue to grind up against him, grasping your hips to halt your movements, causing a whine out of you as he pushes your hips against the mattress, so desperate to feel him again. Finally, he slowly moves towards the bed and gently spreads your thighs apart as he fits himself between them. He positions his body against yours, hand coming up to your face to caress your cheek again as you feel his other wander all over your body making you breathless already.

You feel his cock momentarily against your wetness which makes you thrust against him.

“I need you,” you pant against his lips, but Carlos pulls his hips away slightly with a small smirk on his face. “Please…”

You need him so bad and you’re getting impatient as you feel him press kisses all over your neck, being much gentler than you know he’s used to. He’ll have his way with you eventually but for tonight, your pleasure and comfort is all that matters. Panting, you feel him slowly go down your body. He momentarily wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and sucks lightly making you arch your body against his.

You feel yourself dripping down the sheets, whining helplessly as you become desperate with need.

You can’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock in order to relieve yourself some tension. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh fuck,” Carlos rasps, reaching down and grasping himself to line up between your lips. He keeps rubbing the head of his cock to your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him and back down. He loves the sounds you make as he spreads himself around your slit, where you’re still dripping for him.

You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You’re still so so wet. Carlos swallows your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kisses you full of fervor, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

You’re trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covers your whole body with his as you writhe against him, wishing he was just in you already.

“Are you ready, cariño? Let me know if I start to hurt you or if you want to stop.” He whispers as he looks deep into your eyes.

You bite your lip and nod, too shy and excited to talk.

“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, angel?” He says before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“Please, Carlos,” you stutter, your body trembling even more.

He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer fold sliding his cock teasingly around your core. You arch your back slightly and whine out of frustration.

You want to beg him to do something again as he leans down to line up his cock with your entrance, your legs trembling under him with a mix of nerves and excitement. Carlos slides in so slowly it’s agonizing. He’s careful, like he’s afraid you might break.

You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. He’s so big, stretching your walls. It feels as though your organs are moving around to give him space with how full you feel. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.

Once he’s fully inside you, you sigh against his lips. You feel so full, as if he’s made for you and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You feel one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reaches up to your face.

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, I just need a moment,” you mutter, breathless.

He smiles as your eyes are drifting close, both so full and exhausted at the same time.

You feel yourself gradually adjust to his size, your lower lip between your teeth as you open your eyes again to look up at Carlos’ beautiful sight above you.

“Please move,” you beg.

He nods quietly and starts by thrusting into you slowly, one hand reaching down to play with your clit, while the other holds your hand tightly. The sting hurts you for a while, but it easily changes to pleasure as he moves against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he’s giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure.

He grunts as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper sweet nothings as he sets a pace.

“So tight,” he groans.

The angle is so good, but when his pace picks up he finally leans down to wrap his arms around you, making you gasp as he thrust into you faster and harder, pinning you against the mattress and taking full control of your body.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Doing so so good for me. Eres tan perfecta.”

You whimper as his lips move back up against your own as he kisses you passionately.

At a certain point you feel the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point inside you that has you clenching like a vise around his cock. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, back arching as he keeps thrusting into you, the feeling of him repeatedly hitting your most sensitive spot causing a loud noise you’ve never made before escaping your lips, a strange cry of his name.

“Fuck,” Carlos muttered against your ears, feeling your walls clenching around him, letting him know that you’re close. “You’re so loud for me, angel.”

“God.” You’re lost in pleasure, tears streaming down your face as you desperately claw at his skin. Whatever pain you were feeling before is lost now as you all but float in a cloud of lust.

“Hold it in, baby,” he demands, tongue licking your tears away as his hand pushes your hair out of your face, wanting to see you fully as you reach your high.

“Please, Carlos,” you sobbed, squirming under him. “Need to…need to come please.”

His thrust doesn’t stop or falter, getting harder and harder as his hand grips your waist. There would surely be a bruise of his handprint there tomorrow but you’re far too gone to care. “Look at you so desperate to cum on my dick. Who’s making you feel this good, angel?”

“You!” You cry out, more than willing to pledge your life away to him at this point, the only thing that matters is your release. “Only you! Please, Carlos.”

“That’s right. Only me. Sólo yo.” Carlos smirks at the sight of you under him, so completely defenseless. “Go on, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you spasm under him, losing control of your body. Your vision is hazy as you ride out your high, your body out of your control as your nails dug to his skin, teeth buried on his shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure quite like this.

You feel his cum shoot inside your walls as his body slightly relaxes on yours. He’s barely broken a sweat, his stamina completely phenomenal, but he knows you’re spent and after tonight, you deserve a break, especially considering it’s your first time. And so with that, he gently pulled out of you, making sure not to put anymore pressure on your tired body as he dropped to the place next to you.

Despite your clear exhaustion though, there’s no hesitation in your movements as you turn to him, breathing shallow. Placing your seemingly heavy head on his chest, you throw your arms over his stomach. Carlos’ breath hitched. He had just fucked you, made you come three times and yet somehow the action of you so naturally cuddling to him had his heart racing.

“You did so good,” he told you gently, arms more than welcoming, immediately wrapping around you. “Are you okay, niña bonita?”

“Yes,” you mumble, voice hoarse from all the screaming as you bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck. “Tired.”

“Sleep,” he told you softly, lips planting a kiss on the top of your sweaty hair as he pulled you closer towards him.

You let out a hum, already drifting off to dreamland with your naked bodies pressed against each other, not an inch between the two of you as you tightly held on to each other.

—

The next time you saw Carlos was the next day as you climbed into Ferrari’s private plane. Nearly the entire team is hungover, half asleep as they lugged their baggage, you along them but for an entirely different reason.

As soon as you stepped into the plane, the Spaniard's eyes were on you and yours on him. You wore the jacket he lent you last night over a simple shirt and jeans, opting to wear something comfortable for the flight rather than something stylish. He, on the other hand, still looked breathtaking in a simple buttoned up shirt and jeans, hair tousled as he watched the way your cheeks turned red.

Charles, far too tired and sleepy, barely noticed as you disappeared from his side as you all but made a beeline towards Carlos.

“Good morning, angel,” he greets you, heart soaring at the obvious way you seeked him out, not even hesitating to leave the monegasque’s side in favor of his. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admit, still with a nervous tone to your voice as you take the seat in front of him. “But worth it.”

As Carlos reached forward to lightly push your hair back, his touch now so familiar, you missed the way Charles searched for you upon noticing you’re no longer next to him. You also missed the look of pure jealousy in his eyes, one you’ve longed to see for as long as you can remember. But Carlos hadn’t and for the first time, Charles saw a version of his teammate he’s never seen or expected, one that’s very obviously staking his claim on you, eyes challenging Charles to fight back as you lean into Carlos’ touch.

Carlos didn’t have to say it but Charles understood anyway.

Carlos is a patient man and he played the game so well, biding his time properly and it had all paid off so well, everything falling perfectly into place as the sight of you next to him became a common occurrence. You often wear his shirts after nights in his hotel room, meeting up with Charles for breakfast only to practically reek of Carlos’ cologne. He’s all over you even when he’s not around, his imprints on your skin, his scent all over you, reminding Charles that he’s lost a game he hadn’t realized he was playing.

And when he is around, it’s not like Carlos is trying to hide it, an arm always around your waist or sometimes hands on your hips. This time though, it’s Charles that’s watching. He watches as the Spaniard touches you so easily as though he’s done it a thousand times before. He watches as you’re quick to relax against his chest, your soft easy smile painting your face and a certain glint in your eyes that Charles knows so well.

Carlos, as Charles is beginning to realize, is a pretty fucking great liar. When they’re together with the team, talking cars and strategies or with the marketing team, doing challenges and interviews, it’s like nothing’s ever changed, both of them still so close. The only noticeable difference now is that you’re rarely on Charles’ side. Instead, you choose to always be by Carlos’, barely sparing your childhood best friend a glance as you stare at the Spaniard as though he hangs the stars and the moon.

Eventually though, the unsaid stare off they often shared comes to a close. It had been during the spanish grand prix with Charles naively thinking he’s doing his teammate a good deed by knocking on his door before the marketing team comes and nags him about a video that needs shooting. Charles didn’t want them to be late and he didn’t want Carlos to have to stand for a lecture.

But when he opens the door, not having bothered to knock, thinking it’s just another boring weekend before a race with Carlos on his phone like the thousand other weekends before that.

Charles couldn’t be more wrong though because instead of the sight of Carlos engrossed in his phone, you're laying on his lap, the dress you wore bunched up around your waist and your eyes shut close as soft moans escaped your lips. Carlos has a hand holding you in place while another is busy assaulting your cunt, three fingers deep inside you, pumping in and out at such a brutal pace that has you biting your lower lip till you can taste blood, tears dripping down to your cheeks.

Charles is frozen in place, the sight of you so open, so perfectly spread for Carlos, caused him to swallow deeply. He can hear the filthy sound of Carlos’ fingers leaving your cunt only to unrelentingly push back in.You’re far too gone to even notice his presence, your fourth orgasm on Carlos’ fingers having completely drained your body as you keep taking more, but Carlos looks up at Charles, the pace of his fingers disappearing within the lips of your cunt never stopping as he raises an eyebrow.

The smirk pulling at his lips brings Charles back down to earth, forcing himself to look away from your naked body as he spun on his heel, shutting the door behind him.

Charles can feel his heart racing, his pants suddenly much tighter than it had been minutes ago. The sound of your moans keeps repeating in his head, completely distracting him from the tasks at hand.

After fixing his erection, Charles finds his way back to the hospitality, reuniting with his media aid as he tries to shake the sight of you whispering and messy on Carlos’ knees.

“Where’s Carlos?” One of the Ferrari people asks him, but Charles only shrugs, not quite sure if he’s able to use his voice.

A few minutes pass as the team waits for Carlos till the Spaniard finally emerges from his drivers room, hair messy and lips swollen. No one but Charles seems to notice though and the memory of you on his lap haunts Charles as he meets his teammate’s gaze, smug and proud as he runs his hand through his hair.

Carlos claps Charles on the shoulder, mischief clear in his hazel eyes. “Finders keepers, right?”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz fanfic #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst

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gingiekittycat · 5 months

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I miss the narrator

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I miss the narrator from Good Omens season 1.

I will admit, when I first watched the show it threw me a bit. Sure, the narrator's jokes were funny, but I thought that as a story-telling device it was distracting. There was just so much of it all the time, and it often felt out of place. And when I went to look up reviews online, it seemed a lot of people agreed: if there ever was a season 2, the narrator had to go.

But THEN.

THEN.

Then I read the book.

And I realized: the narrator is the footnotes. It's the little jokes in between the plot. In descriptions, in metaphors, in transitions. The narrator is what makes the magic of the novel.

The narrator is the authors.

More specifically, the narrator is Terry.

Terry's influence on the novel, on the story; Terry's influence in the way he and Neil wrote the book. Neil has said before somewhere (I will find the source eventually and add it) that he was writing in Terry's style when he co-wrote the novel. And it shows; to me, when I read Good Omens, I was reading a Terry Pratchett novel. At the time, I had no previous experience with reading Terry's work, and the only novel I'd read of Neil's was American Gods. And in my opinion, Good Omens reads nothing like American Gods.

In subsequently reading more of Terry's work, it became even clearer to me that the narrator in the show was Neil's way of keeping Terry in the story. And maybe it WAS clunky in a visual medium, maybe it WAS distracting, jarring. But it was also hilarious, and whimsical, and playful, and fun. And I don't see how Neil could have done without it and still stayed so true to the novel. The jokes, the metaphors, the descriptions, the footnotes; this is what makes Good Omens what it is.

There was no narrator in season 2.

I will say up front that, overall, I enjoyed season 2. It had so many funny moments, and so many thought-provoking, poignant moments too. It used some dialog from the first book (looking at you Resurrectionists minisode) to remind us why Good Omens is not just a romp between an angel and demon, but also a philosophical, thought-provoking piece of media. It had a lot of Pratchett-esque moments; the Job minisode stood out to me here. The end was, of course, emotional and gutting, but I like emotional and gutting (anyone who has read my fics knows this). But... I found myself missing the narrator.

I missed Terry.

And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was even on purpose. Maybe the lack of narrator really is illustrating the fact that, when Terry died, he left a hole in the world that can never be filled. You can't make the same show you would have made had Terry been alive. You can't even try. You can make your own thing, you can make it amazing in its own right, but you can't make it the same. And, all said and done, I think that's a very important commentary on grief. When you lose something, or someone, you're not the same as you were before; and it hurts, but you change, you adapt, you grow. Eventually, you make something new.

So... do I want there to be a narrator in season 3?

That's a good question. I think I would accept both outcomes. However, knowing that season 3 is supposed to be the sequel Neil and Terry plotted, I think it would be appropriate to have a narrator this time around. True, we have no novel to base it off of; we don't have any of Terry's footnotes, his metaphors, his jokes. But we have Neil, whom Terry influenced while writing the original novel; we have Neil writing in Terry's style, putting himself in Terry's shoes for a moment (his hat, his scarf). We have Neil, who loved Terry, who has in part made this show as a labor of love, because he promised Terry he would, and he's going to keep that promise. We have Neil to remind us why we love Good Omens in the first place.

And I think having a narrator in season 3 would be a wonderful way to illustrate that.

#By the way #If you are a fan of the show and haven't yet read the book #Please do yourself a favor and go read it immediately #Good omens #Good omens 2 #Good omens 3 #good omens 3 speculation #Neil gaiman #Terry Pratchett #Good omens narrator #My 2 cents #Good omens meta #My meta

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viennakarma · 24 days

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hi! oh my gosh i loved wreck my plans, fernando is just chef’s kiss because that man was sooo patient he deserved that happy ending

even if you don’t add anymore parts to that story, i just wanted to ask how you think it would be between reader and nando in the future. and if luna gets a new sibling ☺️

Hi there! Thank you so much, hun.

So, a few head canons about the life after, in wreck my plans:

- You went back to social media after a while, and the followers were surprisingly receptive to you. There, you shared small snippets of your life (nothing too personal), pics of you, of Luna, your pets and even pics of Fernando (but they didn't show his face or anything recognizable).

- You found out you were pregnant again a little bit before your 3 year anniversary with Fernando, so you decided to tell him about the baby with a cute little present (a box with a custom AM baby onesie, baby socks with the number 14 and the positive pregnancy test). You moved in together around that time (Luna also started picking up spanish because of the familiarity of living with Fernando).

- Luna took the news very well, you and Fernando were scared she wasn't going to like it, but she was very excited about a little sibling. And because of Luna, it didn't take long for her to tell her dad about it. Which resulted in a frantic call you got from your Lewis late at night asking if it was true, he went ballistic once you confirmed and before he could do anything, you hung up on him.

- Only two weeks later, a paparazzi posted pictures he took of you, Luna and Fernando walking around in his hometown. It sent the world into a frenzy. You calmed down an angry Fernando telling him it was a coincidence, but deep down you knew it wasn't. Luckily, your pregnancy wasn't showing at that time, so no one noticed.

- You sent Lewis a big rant via text, and all the screenshots of the texts the woman who he cheated on you with sent you when you were pregnant with Luna. Then you blocked him before he could reply. There was a big wave of hatred towards you when the news came out, not only on social media, but also in general media outlets.

- Only a couple of days later, Lewis was questioned about your (now public) relationship with one of his rivals. Surprisingly, he said you were a single woman and he just wanted you to be happy. He also held himself accountable and came clean about the cheating that caused your relationship to end.

- Fernando wanted to retire immediately after finding out you were pregnant, but you convinced him to think better and at least finish the current season in Formula One. When the season ended, you were around five months pregnant.

- You went to the last race of that season with Fernando, a pretty dress that clung to your body as you proudly showed the baby bump and a jacket with a big 14 on the back. That was his last race before retirement and there was a small symbolic ceremony to celebrate his career.

- Fernando and Luna got a great relationship, and she even asked him to take her karting in his track frquently. She enjoyed time with him, and Fernando always respected his role as a step father. Eventually, after her brother, Vicenzo, was born, she started calling Fernando "Papá Nano" because her brother called him "Papá". (There was a long conversation with Lewis about his opinion on the matter, and after some discussion, he said Luna could call Fernando that as long as Lewis kept being the only Dad/Daddy)

- You and Lewis manage to get a good, respectable relationship for the sake of Luna. You never found out if he was the one who leaked your relationship with Fernando (and you never cared to ask).

- You and Fernando got married in a little intimate wedding ceremony on the beach, just the closest family and friends. Vicenzo was 2 and Luna was 7 when the wedding happened. You got pregnant again by accident after the honeymoon.

IDK I JUST THINK ABOUT AN OVERALL HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE READER DESERVES IT.

#f1 fanfic #fic talk #f1 x reader #ask rae #f1 imagine #f1 fic #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader

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tkwrites · 4 months

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Private Lessons - Quinn Hughes x Sarah (ofc)

Photo from Pinterest

Title: Private Lessons

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah (OFC)

Warnings: None? If I should add any, please let me know.

Summary: As requested by @eyesthatroll, Quinn teaches Sarah to skate.

Word Count: 3,300

Comments: After taking a bit of a breather, I’m back with a requested fic. 2 months after you requested it, your wish is my command, Mari. I hope you enjoy it!

This was an interesting exercise for me to write something requested by someone else that wasn’t necessarily my own idea. I wrestled with it and got in my head a lot about it, but ultimately, I like the result I finally came to.

Thanks for your patience and support. Please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see in their universe! I can’t guarantee I’ll write it, but I love the inspiration and challenge these requests bring!

eyesthatroll asked: tory!! i absolutely adore your writing 🥹 maybe if it’s in your wheelhouse, you could write quinn teaching sarah to skate (or them going skating together) for the first time. i think that would be very adorable 😭 it’s totally fine if that’s not in the cards for the series though, don’t feel pressured! love ya! 🫶🏽

Private Lessons

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

At the end of every season we have a family skate. It's on the 15th. I'd like to bring you if you can come.

Sarah knew this was a bigger deal than his crafted to be casual text was letting on. If it really was casual, he would have mentioned it before he left for the three game road trip.

She also knew dating a hockey player meant she would have to face her fear and past failure eventually. Even if a team event wasn't involved, it was such a big part of Quinns life. She wouldn't be able to avoid it forever.

Does everyone skate?

Usually yeah. Not all of the partners do, but most.

I've never skated before.

Really?

Desert flower, remember? she sent with a picture of a blooming cactus.

He laughed. There are lots of different skill levels there. People bring their kids and stuff.

Meaning what? That I'll be the only adult with training wheels?

No wheels ;)

She sent a gif of someone rolling their eyes. I'd love to go with you, but I really don't want to be the only one who doesn't know what they're doing. Could I persuade you to give me some private lessons?

I guess that depends on what you’re willing to give me. ;)

I mean, there’s not much I wouldn’t give you. What do you want?

A long pause passed in their conversation. When she finally read his response on her way home, her cheeks pinked so much, she had to put her phone in her bag for fear of giving herself away on the train.

That’s how they ended up at a mostly empty training rink the Wednesday night after he got home.

She found him waiting for her in the lobby, surrounded by a swarm of kids all jockeying for his attention. It looked like a whole little league team was getting out of practice or a game right as he arrived. They were so excited, acting as if he came in just to see them.

Sarah waited off to the side, watching him sign autographs and give advice, and talk to each of them. She was tired and hungry, but seeing Quinn in this element gave her a new side of him to admire. He was patient and kind, and invested. She remembered him telling her how he always liked to talk to kids because he remembered how much it meant to him when his favorite players were willing to stop and talk. Seeing that quite literally come full circle was a gift she hadn’t expected to see.

When he finally looked up and met her gaze, he flashed her a grin and mouthed, thank you.

Smiling in return, she nodded to an empty room off to the side before settling in with her laptop to work on her publication.

A big sigh announced his presence a while later, as Quinn slid down the wall to sit next to her on the floor. “Sorry about that,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It’s fine. I always have stuff to work on, and seeing you with the kids is sweet.”

“Winning me some brownie points?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Like you even need them.”

Sarah closed her laptop and turned her head so they could finally say hello properly.

He pulled her close to deepen the kiss. Even though he'd gotten back in town after midnight the night before, they hadn’t seen each other until now. He'd debated going to the aquarium after practice, but remembered they wouldn't let him back without a pass the last time he’d tried. Besides, he didn’t want to interrupt her work so close to finals.

The urge to climb into his lap was so strong, Sarah had to pull back from the kiss before she made a public spectacle of herself.

“I missed you,” he said, trailing a finger from her cheekbone to her jaw. It felt like the road trip was finally over now that she was back in his arms.

“I missed you, too.”

“I have to confess something,” Sarah blurted, nerves eating her from the inside out as he showed her how to tie her skates.

Quinn looked up from pulling her laces tight.

“I’ve been skating before.”

One of his eyebrows cocked up, “you have, have you?”

“It was terrible. It was on a first date with this guy when I was a freshman, and I’m pretty certain the only reason he suggested it was so he could get his hands on me.”

Quinn wrapped his hand around her calf and joked, “I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already had my hands on you, then.”

“You’re not mad?” she said, surprised.

“About what? That I’m not popping your ice skating cherry?”

Laughter barked out of her mouth before she explained, “no, that I lied. I mean, I didn’t really lie. We went on ice, on skates, but no real skating was involved.”

“Now I feel like you’re lying,” his voice was teasing.

“After half a wobbly, too touchy lap, I fell and broke my wrist.”

The bemused smile dropped off his lips, “oh my god, Sarah, why didn’t you tell me before?”

Her bottom jaw moved as she worried the inside of her lower lip. “I didn't know when it would come up.” she said. “I mean, if anyone can teach me to skate, you can. But that's why I wanted it to be just us first.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve broken lots of bones skating,” he said, stroking her leg.

She smiled tightly. “I bet none of those were from you falling down.”

“I don’t know, maybe? You’d have to ask my mom, but I fell plenty when I was learning, that’s really normal.”

“It just feels like one of those things that I'll never live down, you know?”

“Well, you and I are the only ones that know now.”

“Yeah and Josh Jackson and all those people at the Reno rec rink.”

“You keep in touch with everyone who was there that night?” he joked, hoping she would see how ridiculous her worry was.

A hand flew up to cover her face as she blushed. “I guess it just lives in my head every time I think about ice skating.”

“I know the feeling, but it was one time seven years ago, right? And you’ve got a better teacher, now.”

She dropped her hands so she could meet his gaze, giving him a hopeful smile.

He changed the subject. “Are these too tight? Can you move your toes?”

“Yeah. I mean, no they're not too tight.”

He smiled, stood and held out a hand, “come on. I can't promise you won't fall, but I'll do my best.”

As they walked through the tunnel to the rink, she said, “This is the weirdest feeling.”

“It can't be worse than wearing heels.”

“Have you ever worn heels?”

“Well, no,” he admitted.

“Then you can't say a damn thing about it. At least in heels, the ball of your foot is on the ground. With this, it's like my feet are suddenly half an inch wide.”

“You're thinking too much.”

“What am I supposed to do, not think?”

“Don't think so much,” he said, stopping at the boards and turning around. “Okay, I'm going to get on and help you on, okay?”

She nodded.

He bit back his smile at the determination on her face. “It's slippery, so be prepared.”

“Gee, thanks, Hughes,” she said, flatly. “I had no idea ice is slippery.”

He laughed. She’d never called him by his last name. Of course it would come out when she was nervous.

“I'll have you the whole time. I won't let you go until you tell me to,” he promised, reaching to help her through.

She stepped on and immediately over corrected, jerking back.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him to keep them upright. “Calm down,” he said, trying to sound soothing. “I know it's a weird feeling.”

In all actuality, he didn't know. He'd been skating so long it sometimes felt easier than walking.

“Just hold on and let me pull you.”

Skating backwards, he took her on a lap. Her fingers were hooked around his elbows, so he was forced to awkwardly hold the backs of her arms.

“Can you relax? I’ve got you.”

She glanced down and felt her legs wobble. Visions of the ice rushing up to kiss her on the temple made her dizzy.

“Look at me,” he said in a voice that couldn’t be ignored.

Sarah met his eyes. The dim lights over the rink made them a sort of muddy green she’d never seen before.

“If you keep looking down, you’re going to fall,” he said. “You go toward what you look at.”

“I just want to make sure my feet are right.”

“Do you have to watch your feet when you’re walking?”

“Well, no, but this is new.”

“Sure, but once you get over the fact that you’re on the ice and used to your skates, it’ll start to feel more natural.”

“Yeah, I’ll just get over that.”

He shook his head, and moved on. “Okay, start picking your feet up like you’re walking.”

“Like I’m walking?” she repeated. “That seems really counterintuitive.”

“It’s not that different from walking, you're just gliding instead.”

She leveled him with a deadpan, sarcastic look.

She was about to ask him how she was supposed to walk when she couldn’t lift her heel or push off with the ball of her foot, when she realized arguing his syntax wasn't going to get her anywhere. This was a case where she had to swallow her pride and ask for what she needed.

“Can you break it down, like the physics of it, for me?” she asked. “It helps me to see all the steps before I do something.”

As he talked her through the mechanics of skating forward, she held onto his arm. She had so many questions he’d never considered, like how he used his edges to push off.

Skating was so automatic on his part, he didn’t even have to think about it. He’d never had to break down what he was doing like this.

Seeing how his legs worked up close and in slower motion helped her envision doing the same things herself.

“Okay, come back here.”

He moved in front of her again.

“You make that look so easy,” she said, a bit of a whine in her voice.

“Sarah,” he said, swallowing the bite in his tone, “I've been doing this for twenty years. I do this for a living. I'd hope I make It look easy. I couldn't take over writing one of your papers, or come into the aquarium and start taking care of Walter.”

“Yeah,” she said, resigned.

“I know it's frustrating that you can't pick this up right away, but no one can. You can’t read your way into skating well.”

That touched a nerve and she glared at him.

He let go of one of her hands so he could hold his up in surrender. “All I mean is that you just have to physically get used to it. How long did it take you to perfect your golf swing?”

“That’s different.”

“How is that different?”

“I started that as a kid.”

“So? You can learn things now. You learn new things all the time.”

“Yeah. It just feels so daunting. I really don’t want to look like an idiot in front of all your teammates.”

“No one will care. They’re just excited to meet you. We can come back every night I’m in town if you want. Or you can just not skate.”

That caused distress to fly over her face. “No. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” He glanced behind him out of habit, even though there was no one else on the ice. It was a clean sheet too, freshly zambonied after the pee-wee hockey game that ended right before they arrived. Perfect learning conditions.

Sarah recentered herself by pulling a breath down her spine, “this is such a big part of your life. I want to be able to participate.”

“Yeah?” he asked, a half smile lifting the right side of his mouth.

“Yeah, and like you said, I have a better teacher now.”

“Tell me about your day,” he said.

“Okay,” she answered, dubious of his intentions.

“It’ll help you to stop thinking about what your body’s doing. I think you’ll find it will sort itself out if you let it.”

He could tell she didn’t really believe him, but went ahead anyway, telling him about the little boy at the aquarium that afternoon who had insisted he’d caught an octopus as big as Walter and thrown it back the last time he and his mom had gone fishing.

“I mean, maybe he did,” she said, shrugging. “But his teacher gave me this look like, ‘don’t believe a single word he says’. I felt bad, She just looked so tired of him.”

Quinn laughed and decided not to point out that she was skating perfectly naturally now that she was out of her head about it. “What happened in class?”

“Well, even if I get a C on my comparative physiology final, I’ll still pass the class.”

“That’s huge, Sarah,” he said.

“Yeah, it's such a relief, but then, Paul dropped that he's adding a test on top of our publication. Thankfully it’s not a huge part of my grade, but still, more on the pile. He’s calling it a review, but that just means it’ll cover everything we’ve studied this term.”

“That doesn’t seem fair for him to add that at the last second.”

“Well, he can do what he wants, so,” she shrugged. “He said he thinks we need it. I think he's just being a controlling jackass.”

“Can't you report him or something?”

“For what?”

“For changing the syllabus so late.”

“Well, he's the head of the program, so I can't complain to him, plus if I went to the dean, I'm pretty certain she'd tell me ‘this is graduate school, and you should grow up.’”

Quinn winced.

“Yeah. He's just a dick because he can be. He’s the lord over this little kingdom and he wants us all to know it.”

She shook her head, “I’m sorry, we can be done talking about him.”

“You can keep complaining if you want.”

“No, it's okay. It just makes me more mad, which makes me not want to study, which only shoots me in the foot.”

“Okay,” Quinn said, “I think you’re ready for me to be next to you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you’ve been skating fine for the last five minutes.”

She looked down as if to confirm, “I have?”

“It’s not like you were standing still.”

“But you’ve been pulling me.”

“I was, but I’ve mostly just been holding your hand, keeping distance. You've been moving yourself forward.”

“Really?” Shaking her head, Sarah laughed a little to herself, “you really are a better teacher.”

He gave her a wink and spun to stand next to her.

“Keep talking,” he encouraged.

“About what?”

She didn’t know what to look at now. There were empty stands, and scratched glass, and the whole smooth sheet of ice, lines etching a curving lacey pattern around the perimeter.

“Whatever you want.”

“I don't -” glancing down, she remembered his advice and jerked up. The sudden movement caused her to promptly fall on her rear with a frustrated grunt.

Her hands fell to her sides in a gesture that said, why is this so hard for me?

“You're doing great.”

“I just fell down.”

“So? I fall all the time. You just need to learn to get back up.”

He did fall, and she was always so impressed with his ability to just pop back up and continue playing as if nothing happened.

He coached her back onto her feet, and they continued around the rink as he told her about the road trip he’d just come home from. Only five days away, but the comeback overtime loss and two wins made it a huge confidence builder.

He admitted that though some of the strain was lessened for the next month with their guaranteed spot in the finals, he still felt so much pressure to perform.

“There was this moment on Friday, though, where we were just gelling, you know, and it felt like ‘we deserve this now.’”

“Of course you deserve it. You work your ass off for that team, Quinn.”

Throwing her a thankful smile, he said, “I mean we all do it together.”

“And you’re a big reason everyone is buying in.”

“Look at you, learning hockey talk.”

“That is something I can read my way into.” she joked. “Plus your mom explained a bunch of the idioms to me.”

He laughed.

She fell twice more, but got up each time. The last time, she even managed to do it without his help.

“You’re doing great,” he praised, moving in front of her again, “you’ll be a natural in no time.”

Pulling herself to him with their clasped hands she winked, “it's because I have the best teacher.”

She was close enough now that he would just have to lean in to kiss her. He did, because he could. They were apart so much, it only made sense to take advantage when they were together.

Whenever people kissed on ice rinks in movies, Sarah was always struck with what a dumb idea it was. It seemed incredibly stupid to not pay attention to what you were doing on such a volatile surface.

In reality, when Quinn kissed her, she melted. It felt so romantic. Cold, but cozy with his warm body pressed against hers, and the confidence in knowing he wouldn’t let her fall. The only sound was the pleasant scrape of their skates on the ice.

Suddenly, everything she’d stopped herself from saying over the past few weeks came bubbling up into her mouth.

Just the night before, she’d felt on the cusp of saying something other than “I miss you,” at the end of their goodnight phone call. She had bit it back, not wanting that first time to happen over the phone. She felt like the moment had to be perfect.

Fuck that, she thought, now. She didn’t want to hold it in anymore. Plus, wasn’t this moment perfect enough?

Pulling away, she waited for him to open his eyes.

After a moment or two, Quinn realized she wasn’t teasing, and met her gaze, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong.”

Suddenly, it felt too formal. They weren’t in the Elizabethan era where one declared their feelings in some kind of a grand speech, but she couldn’t not say it. It felt too disingenuous to keep holding it in.

“I just…” she brushed her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck as she ran over a few possibilities in her mind rapid fire, dismissing them all for being too much. Honesty, it seemed, was proving to be the best policy. “I just really love you.”

Quinn could feel his eyes crinkling closed as his face melted into a goofy smile, one reserved only for family and people close to him.

It felt like something broke open in his chest, finally set free. “I love you too.”

Sarah giggled and it came out a little watery. She never expected to cry when she told him, but her body always did like to cry over big emotions.

Quinn wiped her tears away with his thumbs before tilting her face up to his.

This kiss was softer, not as hurried. Desire giving way to something deeper – less fickle, and more settled.

As they walked back to the locker room, Quinn realized, suddenly, that he'd left something unsaid. He tugged on her hand, and she turned.

“I’m really proud of you,” he said. “I know you were really nervous.”

She leaned up to kiss him. “Thank you for being a very patient teacher.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fan fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic

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lindsey-laufeyson · 6 months

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Saying Goodbye

Tom Hiddleston x wife!reader oneshot

Your husband just finished filming season 2 of Loki, thus concluding his long journey as the God of Mischief, but as a stunt double for The Marvels, you’re stuck doing a reshoot on the night of the wrap party when all you want to do is be there for him.

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/N: After watching the Loki finale, as well as Tom’s interview on Jimmy Fallon, I guess I wrote this to process my own grief (and be a little self indulgent)…

When you walked into the wrap party, you spotted your husband immediately, talking to Ke Huy Quan across the room by the bar. Tom’s dyed black curls were slightly disheveled and he was gesturing wildly with his hands, clearly very passionate about whatever the topic of conversation was. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched him, until you were pulled from your thoughts by a familiar voice.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Owen Wilson greeted you, pulling you in for a hug. “Glad you could make it!”

“And just in time, evidently,” you added as you pulled out of the hug. “Is he doing any better?”

Owen shook his head and sighed. “He’s not doing any worse, I can say that much.”

The two of you walked over to Tom and Ke, and you slid your arm around Tom’s slender waist. “Sorry to interrupt,” you told them both.

Tom’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “Darling! You made it!” he said excitedly, standing up from his seat at the bar and quickly giving you a hug and kiss before addressing the entire room. “Y/n Hiddleston, everybody!” he shouted, pointing at you as if you were the big surprise guest for the night. Everyone played along and cheered while you waved bashfully at them all before turning back to Tom.

“How are you doing, my love?” you asked him, concerned, as you cupped his face in your hand.

“I’m wonderful,” he assured you. “Why?”

You glanced at Owen apprehensively. “Owen said you were sort of… spiraling.”

“What?” Tom looked at Owen confused. “You said I was spiraling?”

“You’ve been spiraling a little,” Owen said quietly from behind you. You and Ke proceeded to watch the two men bicker back and forth.

“I think I’d know if I was spiraling.”

“I mean, it’s a subtle spiral, but a spiral all the same.”

“Is there even such a thing as a subtle spiral?

“So you’re admitting that it’s not subtle. Good!”

“No, I’m saying there was no spiral to begin with.”

“Oh my god! If either of you say the word spiral one more time, I’m going to start spiraling,” you shouted abruptly.

“I promise you, darling, I’m fine. Really.” Tom attempted to reassure you as he pulled you close to him. You looked over your shoulder at Owen briefly who held up his hands in defeat.

“Alright,” you conceded, before turning to Ke. “I’m so sorry, Ke! I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“It’s okay,” Ke said cheerfully. “Tom was just telling me about how I shouldn’t get too attached to anything because everything ends eventually.” You and Owen both gave Tom a look.

Tom chuckled nervously and then clapped his hands together. “Shots anyone?” he asked, as he turned to the bartender. “Another round of Loki shots, please! And add one more for my beautiful wife!”

“No need,” Owen called after the bartender. “She can just have mine!”

“Oh no, I’m good. I’m driving,” you chimed in, shooting a glare at Owen.

“That’s fine. I’ll just have both of theirs,” Tom said nonchalantly.

You quickly stepped between Tom and the bar. “Hey, maybe we should forget the shots and have a little fun of our own at home.” You gave him a playful wink, hoping to distract him.

“But you just got here,” he protested. “Please, let’s stay for a while and celebrate the end!”

The way he said ‘celebrate the end’ sounded excited and happy, but you could tell it was forced. Still, it was his night tonight (though he would never accept it if you told him that), and you didn’t want to be the one to spoil it, so you obliged.

You, Tom, Owen, and the rest of the ‘Loki’ cast and crew spent the next couple of hours laughing, dancing, and sharing stories (most of which ended up being about Tom), and it seemed like maybe Tom was handling things better than you had originally thought. There was a moment when he reprised his rendition of ‘Very Full’ from the first season of the show, and you thought for a moment, during the slower part of the song, that he was finally letting his feelings to the surface, but as the song picked up again, so did his demeanor. It wasn’t until people started to say their goodbyes for the night, that you really began to see his happy exterior fade.

“I think it’s time to call it, boss,” Owen said to Tom as the last few cast members departed, leaving only the three of you along with a couple of closing staff in the venue rented out for the night’s festivities.

“I suppose so,” Tom agreed with a sad smile.

“We’re still on for lunch before your flight leaves tomorrow, right?” you asked Owen as he hugged you and Tom goodbye.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied. And with that he left.

You then turned to your husband and held out your hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get you home.”

The two of you spent the car ride reliving the fun of the party, and were laughing as you walked in the front door of the house. As you set your purse down on the buffet in the foyer, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzled into your neck.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

You placed your hands over his and swayed back and forth. “Of course, baby. But I want to ask you one more time…” You turned around to face him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other gently cupped his face. “Are you alright? Because it’s perfectly okay to not be okay right now. You just closed a huge chapter of your life and no one expects you to just take it on the chin.”

As you said this, Tom’s eyes slowly welled up with tears as he finally let go of the mask he’d so tirelessly upheld all night. “I’ve said goodbye to Loki before, and I thought I could do it again” he began, his voice cracking slightly. “But it’s only that much harder now. He changed my life. He’s become such a deeply rooted part of me over the last 13 years. How am I expected to just move on from that?”

A tear fell down his cheek and you brushed it away with your thumb. “No one expects you to, sweetheart,” you replied in a soft, comforting tone. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, causing more tears to fall as he hugged you tight, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You held him there for a moment, stroking his hair while he quietly cried.

“But, Tom,” you continued, taking his face in both hands, lifting his head, and looking deep in his eyes. “Even if Loki’s on-screen journey is over, it doesn’t mean he’s gone. You said it yourself that he’s a part of you. Even if Kevin Feige never calls you up again— which, let’s be honest, is never out of the question at this point—” He let out a small chuckle. “As long as you’re around, so is he, and that’s because you put your heart and soul into that character, much like everything else that you do. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.”

Tom smiled at you through his tears before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. When your lips finally parted he leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “Thank you, love,” he whispered.

“No, thank you Tom,” you replied, tears forming in your own eyes now. “Thank you for giving us Loki.”

…

One year later:

youtube

#tom hiddleston #loki #original content #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston x reader #Tom hiddleston x wife!reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst #loki spoilers #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x you #owen wilson #loki season 2 #loki series #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fanfiction

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jellycrusher · 6 months

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Wolves and Lambs: Part 2

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Synopsis: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter's Premise: "It's easier this way. To hide it from everyone. Being a female alone made it hard for me to enter this sport and rise at this level. If the public knew I was a female Omega, my career is over. No team would give me a contract."

Taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 @fanboyluvr @giffywiffy3408 @notyouraveragemochii @cmleitora

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

In this society that we now live in, there are three "types" of humans.

The most common one, which also makes up 90% of the population are the Betas.

Then, there are Alphas, they're said to have superior characteristics which make them great leaders. Which is why most of the successful athletes are usually Alphas.

And lastly, a class that is even rarer than alphas, the Omegas. One of the pecularities of Omegas is that they constantly release a sweet scent, what we call pheromones. These affect mainly Alphas and lures them. During their heat, the pheromones they produce will be much stronger and will be more luring to Alphas.

One can take medicines to control their pheromones, especially during their heat period. Suppressants can be taken by Omegas. Alphas can also take them if they wish not to be affected by any Omega in heat.

Society has indeed taken it in to protect Omegas because of their special constitution. Sadly, there are a lot of people who thinks that Omegas are inferior and are only good for mating.

Just because someone is an Omega, it doesn't mean that someone isn't meant for greatness ahead.

It was horrifying to think that your career is now ruined when it hasn't even started yet. You choke on your own saliva, making you cough so loud that a few heads turn in your direction. You fiddle with your fingers when you closed the book. Oscar quickly noticed the panic in your voice and in your body language.

"Oh no, don't worry. I'm an Omega, as well. I thought this was public knowledge?" Oh right, bugger me, I wasn't paying attention to Megan when she told me the names of the two Omegas on the grid. You looked at Oscar with a puzzled look and he quickly adds, "Good thing that the venue was swimming with Alphas. Our smell won't really affect anyone. But you? You didn't smell of anything at all. Maybe a hint of sweetness but nothing too obvious. There were a few Omegas at the event so I think the other drivers didn't suspect you."

Realization hits you. You pull out your phone from your pocket and opened the calendar. "I must've missed my suppressants. I was so busy with pre-season testing, the gala, and extra training. That can't happen again."

Wondering if only Oscar was the one who noticed your peculiar scent. It's scary to think that if maybe somebody else has caught you, you won't even be able to continue as a driver for your team.

"It's easier this way. To hide it from everyone. Being a female alone made it hard for me to enter this sport and rise at this level. If the public knew I was a female Omega, my career is over. No team would give me a contract." You confess.

"Well, that's true. It took a lot of convincing before my teams in F3 and F2 trusted me. We had to work twice or thrice as hard to prove to people that we' can deliver the same results as others, if not better." Oscar leans back on the couch, arms sprawled on the backrest. "Besides, my heat doesn't affect my performance anymore. Not since I met Lando."

"What d'you mean?"

"Lando's my mate. I don't get intense heat ruts anymore since he gave me my mark. One time I drove through a GP when my heat came. That was scary, I almost crashed." he says, amused when you got visibly surprised at the revelation.

You felt relaxed that he was able to confess this information with you even if you just met for the first time during the gala. Maybe he was just trying to comfort you when your secret was discovered by him.

"Please don't tell Lando just yet. You didn't, right?" you ask. Oscar shaking his head at your question.

"I kinda have a responsibility to take care of you now. It's not my place to tell anybody. In our line of work, nothing stays a secret so I guess you'll tell who you'll want to tell at the right time." Oscar leans forward to you, gently placing his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. We stick together."

"What secret?" You jump at the familiar voice. Lando pops up behind you two.

"Nothing. She's just telling me which of the drivers she finds cute." Oscar stand up from his seat and guides Lando to the direction of the restaurant.

"I bet it's me, right?" Lando points to himself. Oscar gently punched the side of Lando. They waved goodbye and disappeared into the restaurant.

It wasn't much of a calm air to make you continue reading your book in the lounge. Despite Oscar making you calm even after your conversation, you were still worried. You needed to let out some steam.

When you came up to your room, you took a suppressant and changed into your workout clothes. You arrived at the empty hotel gym and started pretty quickly on the treadmill.

If you weren't a race car driver, no one would bat an eye if they thought you were a track and field athlete at how fast you were going through that treadmill. Your music blasting through your headphones on maximum level when you didn't notice two men entering the gym.

You were breathing too hard through your mouth to even notice the waft of Alpha scent coming from the two men. They were cheerfully chatting and joking when they took notice of you aggressively running on the treadmill. Surprised at the unsettling scent you were giving off. You were angry, very angry.

They chose the two empty machines at either side of you. Careful to not disturb you, they quietly took their place and slowly started running.

Once you got all the frustration off your mind, you pressed a few buttons on the machine to slow it down. You take a moment to catch your breath but not long after, your nose twitched at the strongest Alpha scent you've ever smelled your entire life.

You try to hold your breath and cover your nose with one hand but that didn't help. You didn't know where it even came from. It's so strong that it's starting to make you sick and dizzy. Your limbs felt like jelly and your throat was getting dry. No scent has had this kind of effect on you before. The music blasting in your ears is not helping any bit so you yank it off.

"Hey!" Shocked at the unexpected voice, you shriek and tripped on the treadmill. Good thing it was running very slow that you weren't hurt when you amusingly slid off the machine. The man quickly paused his machine and yours, then ran to help you. "Are you okay?"

You recognized him to be Charles Leclerc. The other half of the driver pair of Ferrari. He offered his hand out to help you stand. You got a bit too close to him as you rise from the floor. You can't help but sniff him inconspicuously. He had a strong Alpha scent, similar to the one you smelled earlier but not entirely the same. The effect it has on you was not as powerful as earlier. Maybe what you've smelled was a mixture of scents? You're not entirely sure.

"Surprised you're a driver with that kind of a reaction with just a hello from Charles. Wonder how you'll do at the track." You turn on your heels at the sound of an arrogant voice behind you, and saw Max Verstappen still very much running and have not batted an eye when you fell.

"I..." You step forward in annoyance, almost about to snap back at him but your feet quickly froze. You recognize the smell. It's coming from Max. The golden boy of Red Bull. The man who dominated all of the drivers last season, and who had broken and topped a lot of records.

The salty taste of fear lingered on your lips. Your muscles screamed at you to leave, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You were utterly frozen, your body cutting all communication with your mind. Unable to distinguish if you were immobilized in fear or in shock at how his measly Alpha pheromones have this much effect on you.

Thankfully, Charles' voice brought you back to reality when he checked up on you. You bolted to the door as soon as you regained control of your body, leaving the two men baffled at your swift exit from the gym and into the lobby.

"What's up with her?" Max stopped his treadmill and stepped down. Both of the men still looking at the direction you left.

"What's up with you? Why were you rude, mate?" Charles lightly smacked Max's head with his Ferrari cap. "You scared her off. Look, she even left her things in a hurry." They noticed your green flask still on your treadmill.

"What? I was just telling her, that kind of reaction is dangerous on track." Max replies.

"In what universe did you tell her that?"

"I did!"

"You did not. You clearly need to work on your communication skills, Max. Use your words." Charles reached for your flask and aggressively placed it on Max's hand. "For that, you apologize to the woman and return this to her."

"FINE. I'll apologize." Max scoffs as he fix his hair in his Red Bull cap. "Reserve that treadmill for me." He points at the machine you were previously using that was beside Charles.

Charles scoffs and shoos Max away. Max headed to the lobby but he was not able to locate you. He doesn't even have your number. He thought to ask his fellow drivers but surely no one have asked it yet. He spots an Aston Martin staff but when he asked where you might be, they are clueless.

"Max!" He turns at the call of his name and saw Pierre. "Why do you look so troubled?"

"Have you seen y/n by any chance? I have to give her this." Max raises your flask to Pierre as Yuki and Esteban walks up behind him.

"We just got back here from lunch outside the hotel but maybe you could send her a text to get that. Much easier." Yuki suggests.

"Yeah right, like I have her number." Max chuckles sarcastically.

"We do!" Yuki, Pierre, and Esteban answered in chorus.

"Wait, when did you get her number?" Max asks as he was genuinely bewildered at their response. He remembered that you were barely mingling with any of them during the pre-season testing in the circuit.

"Of course we got her number. Who wouldn't?" Pierre says as he scrolls through his contacts looking for your name.

"We competed through heads and tails to see who'll ask her number first." Esteban adds as he giggles.

"Lando introduced us to her during the gala. She was pulled away by Lance multiple times but when she got away from the sponsors, she would come back to the bar to chat with us." says Yuki.

"Here you go." Pierre shows Max your number and he types it in on his phone. He thanks his pal Pierre and sat down on the lobby couch to put your name in his contacts and start messaging you. The three of them bid farewell to Max and continues to walk up to the elevator.

Unknown Number: Hi! You left your flask in the gym. I'm still at the lobby. I was wondering how to give it to you.

It took almost 5 minutes before Max got a reply.

Aston Martin Y/N: Who's this? How did you get my number?

Max looks at the conversation thread and felt stupid that he didn't mention his name. Anybody would be wary in your position if they got that kind of text.

Unknown Number: My apologies, I didn't tell my name. This is Max. From Red Bull. I got your number from Pierre.

Then it took you 10 minutes to respond. You were fiddling with your hands on the screen as you think of a reply. It was supposed to be a simple reply but the fear in your body hasn't subsided yet. Fully sprawled out on the floor of your hotel bedroom.

Unknown Number: Do you plan to get it from me or do you want me to give it to any Aston Martin staff?

Another ping on your phone and you read the new text. Worried that you'll inconvenience a staff, you quickly typed in your reply.

Aston Martin Y/N: I'll get it. Going down in a sec. Wait.

You took your time to even stand up. Letting your pheromones and instincts recover from the nightmare you experienced just by taking in his scent. As you slowly walk towards the door, you changed his name in your contacts. At that moment coincidentally, you received another text from him.

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: Are you almost here? I still have to work out with Charles.

Aston Martin Y/N: Can you please wait? I'm waiting for the elevator.

Max decides to wait by the elevator when he read your text. He tilts his head up every time it opens and was starting to get irritated at how long you took to come down when finally he sees the door open with you in the elevator... with what seems to be ear plugs up your nose.

He bursts out laughing, even snorted at one point. "Still on brand, I see?" He noticed the green earplugs with a small brand logo peeking out on the side.

"You really enjoy teasing me, huh?" You say in a nasally tone while yanking the flask off his hands as he busies himself laughing his ass out. You turn back to the elevator, about to press the button.

"No, no. I'm sorry." Max fixes himself. "I apologize for earlier. Didn't mean to say those things that way."

"What do you mean?" You stop your hands from pressing the button and looked at Max.

"I'm glad you're okay. Just... maybe you could work more on your reaction time. A fraction of a second could mean winning or losing, and even crashing or not." Max mellows out his voice into concern.

"I am fully aware, not like i've just started racing this year. Thank you for the tip." You reply but as soon as you get a whiff of his scent despite there being a plug up in your bloody nose, you frantically press the elevator button.

The strength of the smell was less this time, maybe because Charles' scent is not in the mix. But nonetheless, Max's pheromones are still causing your hair on your arms to stand up even with the plug. You don't want to imagine the effect on you if you are able to clearly smell him this close without the help of suppressants.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be? You always seem to be in a hurry." Max asks in confusion. You pinch your nose to help minimize the scent.

"I just.. need.. to get out of here." You press the button a few more times and finally, it opens. "Thank you for giving me back my flask. Bye!" You ran inside and pressed the close button.

"What's wrong with her?" Max says out loud, leaving him utterly confused as he goes back to Charles in the gym.

He calls out to Charles when he stepped up on the treadmill.

"Hey! How was it?" Charles asks in between breaths.

"Do I stink?" Max sniffs his shirt and even his pits. He even lifts the collar of his shirt to prompt Charles to sniff him.

"No, mate. Why? Did somebody tell you that you stink?" Charles asks, fully focused with his workout and didn’t bother to actually sniff Max.

"No one. Just asking."

You spend the rest of your day cooped up in your room, trying to avoid Max. You try to think of ways to pass the time but all you have is a deck of cards and a television. Not really a fun way to spend your free time in the room.

No amount of Alpha pheromones have bothered you before. Not unless someone is raging mad like what you've regularly felt during races. But not like this. The combination of Charles' and Max's pheromones are dangerous for you, clearly more of Max's. Like it's enough to trigger a heat from you. Right now, you can't afford that. Good thing you took a suppressant before you met them.

A few minutes before dinner, you heard a knock on your door. You rush to get up from your bed and walk to the other side to get to the door.

"Hi Oscar!" you beam up at the presence of your fellow Omega when you opened the door.

"Hey! They want me to ask you if you're interested to play Switch and PS5 with the guys. They have food and drinks." says Oscar as he stands in front of your doorway.

"Sure. I could use some food right now. Let me get my phone." You smile and went straight for your nightstand.

"Great. I'll text..."

"Wait. Is Max there?" You halt in your steps.

"Him? He never joins us for game night. Too focused on race day." Once Oscar mentioned the absence of Max, you relax and continued to grab your phone and room key, then went back to the doorway. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing. Just wondering."

Oscar didn't think anything more about your question. "They say to hurry. Almost done with the current tournament on Mario Kart. You have to join as the 4th driver." He gently pulls your hand and escorts you to the elevator.

Still, the mystery of why Max's pheromones have that effect on you continues to linger on your mind.

A steward reminded each team that the briefing was about to commence. All 20 drivers are ushered to find their own seats. As you were to take yours, you scan the room and noticed Charles and Max sitting together on the first row with either of their respective teammates beside them. As you were about to sit on the other far end of the next row, other drivers appeared out of nowhere and sat on the chairs next to you.

Oscar made sure to take the seat on your right and pulled Lando to sit next to him. As Alex was about to sit next to you, George hastily took the seat on your left. You quietly giggle at how amusing the boys look. You've gotten so close with some of them after spending your pre-race break by playing video games as a group.

The briefing started and they discussed new rules, and addressed some concerns that were brought up during the pre-season testing. Everything was on point and on time. Good lucks were thrown back and forth to all the teams and everyone bid their goodbyes before heading back to their respective hospitalities in the paddock.

You and Fernando struts back into your own room in the team's garage and came out in your white racing top with your race suits' sleeves tied to your waists and a green cap to keep your hair in place. Your trainer proceeds to work with you to test your reflexes using tennis balls.

Megan pats your shoulder and points at the far end of the Aston Martin Garage. Oscar, in his orange overalls, tries to peek his head through and calls your attention. You excused yourself from your trainer and sprinted towards Oscar.

"What's up? You need anything?" you smile at the Australian driver.

"Did you take your suppressants?" Oscar asks and you nod quickly in respond. "Good. Don't underestimate the pheromones of these guys during races. I had trouble back then when I was still unmated, especially with Lando's. They could really fuck up your races without even needing any contact with your car."

"Really? That bad?" You reply with a nervous laugh.

"Just make sure you have your suppressants with you every race week. That's a priority. Don't ask anyone else to give you or else, your secret might get out. Also, I don't bring mine anymore since Lando takes care of my heat prior to every race week."

"Okay Mom! At least somebody's getting some action." You sheepishly tease Oscar, nudging him at his side.

"Anyways, good luck out there rookie!" Oscar jokingly pulls down your cap to cover your eyes and he steps away, back to his team garage.

"Good luck to you too, Mom!" You shout. Oscar raises his hand and waves it, still walking forward.

You go back to your trainer and continued on with your training.

"Formula 1 is back, and it's time for Qualifying for the 20th World Championship Bahrain Grand Prix. 23 races in 2023 and we get underway for the 6th time in F1 history right here in the Bahrain International Circuit"

You and Fernando went to your respective corners beside your car. Like a well-oiled machine, every part was doing its job perfectly. A team of engineers briefed you of the strategy, at the same time Fernando's team of engineers did theirs.

You fix the rest of your race suit on and placed the earpiece before putting on your balaclava. An engineer hands you your helmet and hans device. Now all set-up, the two Aston Martin drivers lowered themselves into the cockpit and buckled up. Mechanics making their final checks and removing the tire blanket. The engine roared and echoed back. Music to your ears.

Driver number 13 officially representing Aston Martin for the start of the season. Time to do what you do best.

You and Fernando went to do incredibly flying laps through Q1. The engineers back at the pit wall seem pretty pleased with the pace. In Q2, it was unfortunate that Fernando failed to continue for Q3 after a Haas collided with his rear wing and puncturing his rear tire.

Your pit mechanic signals you to go out of the garage once again when Q3 had resumed, followed by the drivers of Ferrari and Red Bull. For the first five minutes, Red Bull and Ferrari had dominated the front row as Verstappen in P1 and Leclerc in P2.

In the last seven minutes, you were able to climb P3 with purples in sector 1 and 2.

You heard a familiar beep in your earpiece as Ben, your race engineer, informed you,

"P3, that's P3."

"Do I have enough pace to try for P2 on the final lap?"

"Confirm. We can try for P2."

You push flat-out on the throttle, eyes darting forward like a hawk. Concentrated on getting purple on all sectors.

Max was granted the provisional pole as he crosses the line, followed by Charles. Charles was informed by his race engineer that he's on P2 at the moment. Max was able to snatch the purple sectors in 1 and 2, while Charles got purple in sector 3. Time's up for Q3 and the remaining drivers' lap times are still to be recorded.

One by one, the remaining drivers cross the line. Max and Charles was told to wait as their race engineers inform them through the radio that you now got purple in sectors 1 and 2. You've yet to complete sector 3 and cross the line. The two men now looking back at their mirrors, catching to see a glimpse of you.

"And it's y/n on pole position for the first race of the season! Her maiden pole! What an amazing lap by this year's only rookie, and she starts on the front row tomorrow."

The two men, in awe by your performance, didn't notice their respective engineers talking through their radios.

Your PR officer guided you to the flock of reporters in the media pen for the driver interviews. Each of them congratulated you and asked about your maiden pole. You carefully answer every question while your PR officer stand beside you, before going on to the next reporter.

Charles and Max were also inside the media pen at the same time as you. Charles to your right and Max to your left. You were the first one among the three of you to finish your media duties. Your PR officer bid you goodbye as she rushes to the team hospitality while talking to someone on the phone.

Charles approached you from behind, "Hey y/n! Congratulations on your maiden pole!"

You gave a genuine smile at the compliment from the Monegasque. "Thanks Charles! You two were extremely hard to beat."

"I look forward to racing with you on the front row tomorrow!" Charles quickly waved goodbye just as how short he said his greeting.

He seems to be in a hurry as well so you just responded, "You too!"

A few seconds later, somebody came behind you to pat your back. As you turn your head, Max blurts out, "Congratulations. That was a pretty good qualifying debut."

Still wary at his presence, you vaguely took a step away from him and held your breath. "Thank you... Congratulations to you too." You try to take a sniff but relief wash over you as his pheromones today wasn't as strong as you'd think. Possibly because you did two doses of the suppressants.

"What's your problem?" Max darts his eyes at you.

"Huh?" You reply, looking confused.

"You always seem to act like I stink when you're around me. I thought it was just my imagination but you act the same every time you stand by me." Max stood tall and crossed his arms.

"No. That wasn't what I..."

"I have the same perfume as Charles yet you don't have a problem with him. Kinda rude for a rookie, don't you think?!" Max continues.

"Are you done? You gonna let me explain?" You reply, also crossing your arms.

And there it is again. That scent. But this time it smelled a bit different. Smelled stronger but muskier. More aggressive than the last time you smelled it on him. Once again, your throat starts to dry up. Your chest and legs are starting to feel weird.

Max noticed your nose scrunch and sees you slightly take another step back. Appalled by your reaction, he cursed under his breath so quietly. He was about to voice out his irritation at you when Oscar runs to insert himself between the two of you.

"Hey Max! Sorry but I need to snatch her away. It seems that y/n is needed by... her engineers! Yes, for a meeting." Oscar mumbled and chuckles as he tries to make more space between you and Max.

"Her engineers asked you to get her? You're a Mclaren Driver." Max raised an eyebrow in response.

"Oh, who minds the small details?" Oscar wafts his hands in the air before pulling you away from Max. "Sorry if i interrupted your conversation!"

Oscar pulled you away from Max's line of sight as fast as he can. Almost comical to see you two running across the paddock. He turns to a corner and lets go of your hand. You lean your hands on your knees and try to catch your breath as Oscar looks back just in case Max is still in the area.

"That was close. A photographer almost took a photo of you two and from where I was standing, the conversation didn't seem to look so friendly." says Oscar.

"Yeah, that was close-- Huh?"

When Oscar pulled you away from Max, you thought he could sense the trouble you were in. Your trouble with Max's presence.

"Wait, you couldn't smell him? His pheromones?" You ask, clearly puzzled at the reason for Oscar's interruption.

"No. Max didn't smell any different when I stood between you two. Why? What's wrong?" Oscar now looks concerned as he walks closer to you.

"Nothing. I just think my nose is busted." You dismiss the lingering thought at the back of your mind. Surely that musn't be it.

"Wait, I just remembered that you really are needed at your garage. Lance was looking for you earlier." Oscar pats your back and pushes you to the direction of your garage. You almost curse that you lost track of time as you ran back like your life depended on it.

"And it's lights out and away we go!"

Next Part: Part 3

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gingergofastboatsmojito · 1 month

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It's all in the side notes

I can’t believe why is not painfully obvious for everybody else too, it's like everyone notices everything around it except this huge elephant in the Sydcarmy room.

Let me explain:

The side notes on the script are what the actors play, not just the script itself. The subtexts, the nuances, the silences, all of that is indicated by the director and rehearsed over and over before shooting at least 2 takes of every single scene.

02X01 was about teamwork towards The Bear's opening, that's why the director opened and closed the ep with that, to make that point. The side notes were all about playing every single scene with a SOU, fast-paced dialogues, etc, because every second counts and that's why a clock was ticking on pretty much every scene.

When 02x02 ends with a close-up of Claire smiling after Carmy gives her the wrong number, that´s not the point the director tried to make, but that Carmy TOOK HIS FUCKING TIME in giving her the wrong number, he almost gave it to her in slow motion, meaning that as he was giving it to her he was deciding what he eventually ended up doing with the last digit. He was on the fence the whole time and ended up deciding to "cut her off politely" in a very Carmy way. That was a side note in the script (the speech rate and the "decide as you go", and "be doubtful first" part).

In 02x03, the Sydcarmy vs Clairmy battle really began and it continued throughout the whole S2, all side notes because the script was barely obvious about Claire until he said: "I have to call my GF" after passing the gas inspection. Notice a pattern here? Or is it just me?

02X04 was mostly focused on Marcus in Copenhagen and introduced us to Chef Luca, raising the question, on purpose leaving it as an unanswered question - that will probably be answered in S3- on whether Luca was talking about Carmy when he was talking about a chef that was way better than him and that inspired him to become the chef he is today and up his game as much as he could. In other words: Not Sydcarmy material. Except we buy into the whole SydMarcus shipping they tried to insinuate with the Facetime call, which I won't get into because I feel dirty even typing about it. How dare they? Is it because they are both black? WTF?!! Well, my point is this is probably the least Sydcarmy episode of the season and we need to make a mental note about who directed it.

02x05 This episode's arc is all about the script's side notes: "Who's Claire? / I'm saying goodnight!" is all about the intonation, not the actual words. This is the bridge of the whole Sydcarmy song, that's why it's mid-season. Notice something? I have...

02x06 The masterpiece, it's all about the side notes but again, super non Sydcarmy, it's just supposed to show us The Berzatto's background story so Syd is not part of the equation. Claire is, in a way that will later make a lot more sense during Omelette's panic attack, of course.

02x07 AKA: My favest, is also a non-Sydcarmy kinda ep. Is all about Cousin's arc. BTW: I 100% ship these 2 and I hope S3 brings more RichJess fluff and stuff:

02X08 is all about the side notes again and takes us right back into SydCarmy vs Clairmy territory. Carmy had to call his new GF after passing the inspection to give her the good news.

02x09 I shouldn't even have to say a damn thing about this ep. Other than pointing out the obvious: IT'S THE MOST SYDCARMY EP OF THE WHOLE FUCKING SEASON, TYVM!

All I'm gonna add is that Carmy is laying awake after having sex with her:

I already talked about the common blue light in this scene here.

I'm not even gonna get into his panic attack. I mean... Do I have to? Seriously?

Anyway...

Storer finally joined the ship Calo was sailing since the beginning of the season here and all the side notes in this script are HIS.

The cinematography is his, the music is his, and every line, because he co-wrote it with Sydcarmy CEO: Joanna Calo herself.

And so we arrive to 02X10 where Sydcarmy is eaten alive by The Bear but ironically enough the one who doesn't survive is the Clairmy team LMAO! Sydcarmy on the other hand keeps going strong (Ayo was promoted to co-star for a reason, she's no longer part of the cast, she's the female lead of the show now) and in S3 we'll get to see how exactly will that play out.

My point is: The director and then the editors in the ER with the EP's sign-off can change what the writers write if they choose to and the actors have to perform the side notes according to the director's instructions.

In this case, since Storer joined the Calo Sydcarmy ship as I previously mentioned and usually they co-write and always co-produce the seasons those scripts, side notes, musicalizations and editions ARE ALL THEIRS. Every time Calo touches something, she turns it into Sydcarmy gold, and Storer and her are on the same page. That's why most Sydcarmy eps of the season were hers or his or directed by both.

June can't get here soon enough.

#gingerpovs #the bear #sydcarmy #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmy x sydney #sydney adamu #syd x carmen #sydcarmy for life

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rabbit-surfboard · 8 months

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Fictional podcast recs

One of my friends got into audio drama and I just sent them a whole list of recommendations to go through, I thought someone who follows these tags might also appreciate it and perhaps have some more to throw in. I resisted the urge to throw in the little blurb about audio dramas as a weird little medium and their tropes that I wrote up. It was something to the effect of nodding at how the medium has rapidly been improving since Welcome to Nightvale started, also how a lot of the tropes that tie the medium together are products of the indie podcast scene being accessible and primarily based in audio. Also at how well horror works in the format. Those paragraphs went unsaved but writing first about the medium in general helped me to reflect on a lot of the things that make audiodramas appealing or repulsive to me for discussing each show in brief beyond just explaining what they're about.

All recommendations are tagged for the tldr.

Fiction podcast recommendations in no particular order:

The Magnus Archives

Horror

The biggest criticism I ever had of this podcast’s voice acting from episode 1 turned out to be a relevant plot point. This thing is probably the best of the best, but I would never recommend it to someone unfamiliar with podcasts because the listener only notices a plot hook somewhere between episodes 20-40 and that’s daunting in the face of a 200 episode show. Getting sucked in rewards you with 200 episodes of thoughtful content and a great explanation for most of the weird things this show chooses to incorporate.

Old Gods of Appalachia

Horror

Fantastic production quality on this ongoing show. Many seasons with interconnected lore and a hell of a narrator. It’s not my personal favorite but it’s quite excellent.

Red Valley

Found footage mystery

One of the newer shows I’ve gotten into, Red Valley is well-crafted. It becomes compelling very quickly with a rapid pace that slows down to land in a neat spot for a while so you can savor the cool parts. The production quality is excellent and the two main voice actors have excellent chemistry. The third and final season is currently being produced.

The Silt Verses

Horror

Often compared to American Gods, this newer podcast made by an experienced team is doing a lot of creative and fresh things at once. The magnificently fucked up religious system of The Silt Verses is both a neat plot vehicle and cleanly works as a criticism of late stage capitalism, where many podcasts like to jab at capitalism this one is much more pointed in its commentary. Episodes are long and very well produced. All the credits in the third season have been mostly diegetic and add flavor to the world.

Archive 81

Found footage horror

Slow to start but by season 2 the production quality and plot are among the best in the game. Unfortunately, on an extended hiatus.

Ars Paradoxica

Science fiction, historical

Very well produced considering its age, this is a highly regarded show among people who follow the medium. Excellent time travel mechanics here. The plot drags a bit by the end because time travel stories must violently contort themselves into a conclusion, but the first season or two are fantastic and it’s always nice to have an ending instead of interminable hiatus.

Caravan

Gay demons n stuff

Showed up, did magic and gay shit, disappeared and went on hiatus probably with some kinda unsatisfying cliffhanger seeing as I don’t remember the plot. Could I recommend it in good faith? Not until they at least cough up season 2. I don’t remember it being bad and that alone is notable for the medium.

Mabel

Gothic horror

This is the deepest cut on the list except for maybe Caravan. Lesbians pine at each other for increasingly complicated reasons, eventually devolving into them doing datura and then spewing cryptic poetry together for the rest of their days. The production quality is fair. The slow windup and creepy house are American-gothic af. This show has had a few hiatuses, but each time it comes back significantly more intriguing.

Welcome to Nightvale

Goofy spooky news broadcast

Old and iconic, not very consistent. Sometimes explores emotional, tense, spooky, or funny scenes well, but the show is really focused on being local news for an ooky spooky desert town because Cecil is damn good at his job. Don’t come here looking for plot, it’s a fun vibe and I don’t know that anybody’s ripped it off and notably improved on this classic. Above average production quality for its time which improved through the years.

Alice isn’t Dead

USA road trip, horror

Made by at least one of the Nightvale writers, totally different show with a lesbian trucker making wry observations of some magnificently twisted shit seen around the United States. The producers know how to run a show, so the production is pretty good.

Tanis

Found footage horror

Tanis is not good. However, it was the first fiction podcast to make me ask “Is this real?” and hesitantly believe it for a frankly embarrassing number of episodes. The stories in the first season were interesting and the lore is just some big-tent conspiracy style of cramming a bunch of fun Wikipedia research into what turns out to be an increasingly nonsensical plot. Every season after the second, I return to hate-listen and am gaslit into thinking the show might low-key rock a few episodes before the finale, which is routinely frustrating and makes sure to throw out any good plot points Terry Miles comes up with. The acting is routinely terrible, and the frame narrative allows lazy and frequent retcons, ruining what I think is a good premise. Also it’s incomplete.

The Black Tapes

Horror

Terry Miles started this show before Tanis began releasing about 5 months later. I think of it as one of his earlier works because it behaves like Tanis with an added layer of cringe from a time waster of an awkward romance(?) between the two main characters. I couldn’t finish this show. You won’t see this recommended as often as it used to be online because there’s many better shows now, but this used to be a big deal. There’s a bunch of memes making fun of the annoying cadence of the characters’ speech and iconic sponsorship reads in both this and Tanis. If you’re interested in some cringe atop your creepypasta podcast, the two are interchangeable.

Rabbits

ARG investigation

Not as horror focused as Terry Miles’ other shows, the cringe is dialed down and the show is better for it. Tanis and The Black Tapes are more well known, I think the only reason more people don’t think about this one is because the first two don’t inspire trust in the production or narrative quality of this show, but I remember it being fine for a season. I have not gone back to catch up now that more is out.

Malevolent

Horror

Inspired by The King in Yellow, one man performs two voices and verbally abuses himself with aplomb. Having a blind main character with an extra voice in his head is a frame story I haven’t heard yet (unless it came up in the magnus archives and I don’t remember), the concept works out great for the frame of a podcast to deploy the environmental imagery that foley cannot communicate. It also prevents the podcast trope of lengthy exposition about visual surroundings from sounding awkward or potentially impacting someone’s character development to show setting.

Wolf 359

Comedy, science fiction

A crew of whacky characters is stuck in deep space, hanging out and researching a star. Since that’s not actually very interesting they crack jokes and fuck around for a slow burn until interesting stuff happens. Good but not great, this one is long and satisfying and a bit less heavy than all the horror this medium often focuses on. Decent production quality.

The White Vault

Found footage horror

I lost patience with this podcast even though the overarching story seemed very cool – it progresses very slowly yet appears to grow bigger and more confusing instead of deigning to answer basic questions for a frustratingly long drag through the first four seasons. I worry that this frustration may be the point and the Patreon gated stories are the drivers for this tendency towards the confusing patchwork of ideas this show communicates. The production quality is good though.

The Left Right Game

Found footage horror

Genuinely great reddit creepypasta got turned into an overproduced podcast – I say “over” in comparison to the voice acting quality because it’s kind of impossible to sell some of the lines, which makes sense considering the source. Brief, complete, punchy, interesting, and just a little odd to hear such a clean production but a creepypasta this fun deserves the effort.

Wooden Overcoats

Comedy

Surprisingly good production quality for its age, and also a refresher from the usual tropes of the medium. Just a chill sitcom about a funeral parlor in a small town. I haven’t finished this 4 season show yet but its good.

The Black List Table Reads

Movie script readings

Some movie scripts just short of making the cut to be turned into a full Hollywood production were well liked enough by a group of film nerds that sat down to act them out as a podcast. Half of the episodes are interviews with screenwriters, and the other half see a script read all the way through by actors. They’re all rejected for different reasons so there’s a pretty broad spread of genres. My favorites were Blood From a Stone and Balls Out.

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nyasiaaaaa · 9 months

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In the Bleak Mid-Winter

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse) Fem reader x Arthur ( platonic) Fem reader x Micheal ( platonic )

Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him.

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Cursing, blood, death, child birth, drinking, alcohol, talks of war, guns, Tommy Shelby ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) ( Also Y/N is on dick, IDKY she acts like this)

A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually.

There is month and week time just in here, this is the only part where I would do that cause I had a lot to fit in. Because I had a lot of fit in, I have to add another part so too much won’t be going on all in one part. Also this is bit of a filler for that time jump from the end of season two to the beginning of season three

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 part 6

*******************************************

Although you didn't see Thomas again for nearly a year, you knew he was there watching you, keeping tabs on you. You had seen Arthur more than you had seen Thomas; he'd often come in, all cut up and in need of stitching.

You still remember the first time you met Arthur; you were busy with a patient in one of the ER exam rooms when one of your fellow nurses slid back the curtain.

"Hi, excuse us. I need to borrow her for a second," She said, smiling towards the patient as she grabbed your arms, pulling you out and sliding the curtain back.

"What"

"You've been asked for by name, exam room three. I'll take over here."

"Why, what's going on”You asked confused.

She shrugged her shoulders,

"All I know is that it's a peaky fellow, a Shelby, to be exact."

She went back into the exam room, but you stood still. Thomas, he's here to see you? You were confused, if he wanted to meet, he could've just come to your apartment; he did know where you lived.

Then it clicked ,he's hurt again; he has to be.

You turned and started to walk down the hall towards the third exam room. Walked…. ran the same thing.

Soon, you were standing in front of the curtain to exam room three. You took a deep breath as you smoothed your outfit out.

You don't know why you were so nervous to see him; you felt kinda silly; you had literally performed surgery on this man and dressed him.

You shook your head, then quickly pulled back the curtain before you could change your mind.

You’re puzzled because the man sitting in front of you is not Thomas Shelby.

"Hi," you drew out, unsure who this man was and what he wanted with you.

"Oi, you the girl that took care of Tommy when he was here?" he asked, all chipper despite his ear being split, cuts on his face, and blood being littered all over his body.

You shook your head slowly, still unsure where this was going

"Tommy sent me here to get patched up; he said you were, uh, sympathetic to the cause." That made you laugh a bit

"I guess I am; let's see what's going on here, Mr.Shelby." You stepped into the room, closed the curtain behind you, and went to the table to find some gloves.

"It's Arthur"

"Oh, Arthur, and who is Thomas to you again?"

You pulled the stool underneath you as you began to clean the cuts on his face with some wipes.

"He's my brother; I'm the oldest, then Tommy, and then John, and last Finn."

You made a face; you didn't know Thomas had a brother, let alone three; in all the stories you heard about Peaky Blinders, only Thomas had been brought up.

You continued to clean Arthur up, and as you did so, you asked a million questions like where they grew up, how old they were, and how betting even worked.

You have learned so much from Arthur in the past 30 minutes about the business and Thomas than you would have ever thought.

Arthur was so talkative, he answered all your questions, he honestly was a bit too happy, you had assumed he was on something but wasn't sure.

He had just gotten done telling you a story about when he and Tommy were younger when you finished his last stitch.

"It sounds like loads of fun," you said, cutting the string to the last stitch.

"Yeah, it was different back then; Tommy was different back then. "

You had wanted to ask what he meant, but he had gotten up before you could. He walked over to the mirror to look at his face; as he did so, you pulled some cream out of the draw for him.

"Here, make sure you put this cream on so you won't scar."

"Ahhh, thanks, Doc; Tommy told us whenever we need fixin' to come to you, and you didn't disappoint."

"And how is Tommy? Is he all healed up?" Part of you just wanted to say his nickname out loud, and another hoped that Arthur would continue his over-sharing streak.

"Yeah, all good; you know our Tommy strong as a horse," He said before walking away.

You smiled and waved to him, watching him walk away. Our Tommy that made you giggle and smile like an idiot. You started to clean up your mess and wipe stuff down when you suddenly stopped, and your smile dropped.

It had just dawned on you, but It was too late; he was far too gone when you realized. What did he mean by Tommy told us whenever they needed fixin' to come to you. You were hoping it didn't mean what you had thought, but it did.

To say you were overworked was an understatement; you couldn't have imagined first how many men were peaky blinders and second how often they got hurt.

Every time you turned around, your patient was a peaky boy, saying Tommy had sent them to get fixed up. Some of these men came into the hospital standing even though they had cuts the size of your arm on their bodies. They were bleeding out, but they remained calm like it was just another Tuesday, and soon, so did you because eventually, it was just another Tuesday.

You and Arthur became close; you would even say you became friends. You saw him often; either he was in for himself, getting more stitches, or he was dropping off a person to get help. And on those sad, rare days, he was picking up a body, someone you couldn't save.

You and Arthur talked a lot about everything and anything; you felt like his priest with the kind of things he confessed to you. How he felt the business was going, how he was still messed up from the war, how lonely he was.

On those days, you would just listen to him talk and give him a hug after; you knew he needed it. Your relationship truly felt like brother and sister, and you couldn't have been more happy about it, seeing as you are an only child.

Arthur and Thomas were the only Shelby brothers you had the pleasure of meeting. Polly and Ada, you have not, but Arthur said you shouldn't because they don't get involved in dirty business. Finn was far too young; he often just hung back, and Micheal Polly's son only handled legitimate business.

So you were pretty shocked when you had been requested, and Michael Gray was behind the curtain.

"You the peaky doc."

"I am." You had tried to tell the boys that you were only a nurse, but none of them listed, so you just accepted the nickname.

He nodded and started to take his shirt off; he had bruises and cuts all over his body. One big cut on his stomach and one on his forehead; that's the ones you will be focusing on. You put your gloves on and got to work; you cleaned the cut on his stomach a bit before starting your stitches.

Your head was down the whole time you stitched him, but you still knew he was staring at you; you felt it, and the way he looked down at you made you slightly uncomfortable.

Once you finished the stitches, you stood up from the stool, making you come face to face with him.

His eyes were quite different from Tommy's; you didn't know yet if it was in a good way or bad.

He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you, then looked down at your name tag before looking back up at you.

"Can I smoke in here?"

"Sure, and do you mind if I stand right here? It's the only way I can reach," you said, pointing to in between his legs.

He took a long drag of his cig before responding, "Whatever you want, doc."

Even from this position, you had to stand on your toes; he was pretty tall. You were pulling a stitch through when you almost fell, but Micheal had placed his hand on your back, keeping you upright.

You cleared your throat. "Thanks"

He just nodded at you with his hand still on your back

"Tommy pays your rent, right? I've seen your name in the books."

"Yeah"

"I always had thought he did that cause you to stitch the boys up with no questions asked and no coppers involved."

You just smiled back, unsure what to say

"But now I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean"

At this point, you were on your last couple of stitches

"You have your own protection detail; he sends his most important men to you, and he pays your rent."

You knew about the rent and never paid much mind to why Tommy started sending his men; you'd just assumed that it was your payment for free rent. A protection detail, though, you were confused; Micheal had to be mistaken. You'd never seen anyone following you, or maybe that was the point.

You tied the thread before cutting it, all while Micheal's hand remained behind your back; you looked down at him and asked.

"Why"

He shrugged his shoulders, taking one last drag before putting the cig out on the tray behind you.

He blew his smoke to the side before saying, "Tommy takes care of his own; he protects what's his."

You were stunned, but Micheal didn't allow you to process. He stood up, putting on his shirt before walking towards the door.

"Thanks, doc," he yelled as he left

You smiled and nodded back before turning around and cleaning up.

Had you really made that much of an impression on Tommy, you were confused and stuck, your mind racing to solve this riddle. If you had left such an impression, why hadn't you seen him in weeks? Not even so much as flowers or Arthur playing playing messenger, nothing. Micheal had to be wrong.

But what if he wasn't? What angle was Tommy playing? What was his end goal?

Your head was starting to hurt, maybe cause you were tired or cause your brain had been overworked trying to figure out what this man wanted from you. You decide to go back to work cause, whatever was happening, you wouldn't figure it out.

*******************************************

It had been a little over nine months after your visit from Micheal that you saw Tommy again.

You had been requested at his house, Arthur came and got you. This house wasn't in Birmingham it was nice and big, a mansion. You knew why you were here. Arthur had been keeping you up to date with all the Tommy and Grace drama. After Arthur told you about Grace and her and Tommy's Past and present, you knew that Micheal was wrong.

He couldn't have been more wrong cause here you are, arriving at Tommy's house about to see him for the first time in a year to help deliver his baby.

"There already a doctor there, you say," you asked Arthur as he helped you out of the car.

"Yes, Tommy said he still wants you there, though."

You didn't understand why you had to be there if a doctor was already there, someone who has had more schooling than you and should hold more knowledge.

Arthur had led you through the house, at first he got lost, it was a big house, but soon he found his way and plus it wasn't hard you just followed the screams and cursing.

You should have braced yourself before entering the room, but you had thought you would be fine; you weren't.

As soon as you opened the door, all eyes were on you, including Tommy's, his eyes which you hadn't seen in so long; they were so intense.

He was standing next to Grace, who was lying on the bed; he was holding her hand, blood smeared on his shirt. Two women were on the opposite side of him next to Grace, two women you assumed to be Polly and Esme.

You kind of just stood there, unsure of what to do and a bit scared. Grace's head popped from behind the doctor who stood in between her propped-up legs.

"Arthur, would you shut the door" Grace yelled

He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn't see anything, Tommy; go on, Doc." He gave you a push as he shut the door.

"Umm, where can I help?" you asked, and it was clear that you were nervous, but you hoped they thought it was because of the situation and not because of what it actually was, Tommy.

"The doctor is saying the baby is trying to come out feet first and that he must cut her open. Polly and Esme say that the baby can be turned, and if she is cut, she will bleed out." Thomas said as he rubbed his face; he was trying to hide it, but you could tell he was nervous.

"OK, OK, OK, Excuse me, I need to assess Grace to see which option is better." You placed your bag down and pulled out some gloves before approaching Grace.

"OK, Grace, I'm just going to see where the baby is at," You said as you reached up in her cervix, checking for the baby, and it was trying to come out feet first. You pulled out of her before speaking again.

"OK, Grace, the baby is coming feet first, but it's still far up, so I think we have a good chance at turning it around. It will be painful, but it's better than cutting you open and risking you bleeding out."

"Well, I can't do that, and I still believe that a c-section is the way to go; I've done many and have had many successes." The doctor tried to argue, but you knew that the risk of her bleeding out was higher than her not.

"I can do it. Trust me, Grace, I can do it."

"Are you even a doctor?" the doctor asked.

"No, but that doesn't matter. Grace, what do you want."

Graces looked between you and the doctor before looking up at Thomas, who was looking at you. And for the first time since you stepped into this room, you looked at him in the eyes. You nodded slightly, telling him you had this; he stared at you a little longer before telling you to go ahead.

You got right to work pushing on Grace's stomach, pushing the baby's head, and slowly turning the baby. She screamed in pain, and Thomas held her hand, encoring her along; after 30 minutes, you finally got the baby in the correct position. You would’ve let Grace take a much-needed break, but she said she felt the need to push and couldn't hold back.

"OK, Grace, that's fine. Push." You got back between her legs and sat on the stool at her feet.

It only took two pushes, and the baby was out, but It wasn't breathing; you panicked, and everyone looked at you scared. Except for Thomas, he looked at you in a way you can't describe as anything other than murderous.

You held the baby in your hands, quickly walking over to the dresser and placing the baby down before grabbing the suction ball from your bag below you. You sucked the goo from the baby's mouth and throat and ran your knuckles across his chest.

The baby still didn't cry out, and you were nervous. Had you pushed on its head too hard? You had never done it yourself, only seen it done, but-

The baby coughed and let out a cry; relief flooded your body, and tears slipped from your eyes. You cleaned the baby before turning around and walking over to Thomas.

"Here you go, Mr.Shelby, a beautiful, healthy baby boy."

For the first time ever, you saw Tommy smile, like a full ear-to-ear smile, as you handed him his son. You smiled to yourself before stepping away and collecting your things. You looked at the doctor who stood in the corner, flipping him off before saying.

"You can handle the rest, right, or do you need help with that too?"

He rolled his eyes at you before walking to Grace to clean her up.

You opened the door and saw Michael, Arthur, who you assumed to be John and Finn, and many more waiting outside the door.

"Grace is fine."

"And," Arthur asked.

"And it's a- "

"It's a boy," Thomas said, interrupting you, you turned around, and he was standing right behind you.

"Congratulations," You said to Tommy.

"Thank you," he said back before he got rushed with a bunch of hugs.

You went down the steps, deciding to wait for Arthur outside, and truth be told, you needed some air not only because of Tommy but also because that was the most ballsy thing you had ever done in your career. You just delivered a baby, all on your own.

You weren't waiting on the steps outside long when you heard the door open, and you stood up, brushing the dirt off yourself, slowly turning around.

"I thought you had gotten lost again. Arthur thought I had to come to find yo-"You stopped your sentence abruptly, seeing as Arthur wasn't the one standing in front of you.

"Micheal, where's Arthur?"

"I had asked him if it was alright if I took you home."

"Oh, OK, let's go," You said before hopping in the car, with Micheal right behind you, sliding next to you in the driver's seat.

The drive back was quiet, and soon you were back at your house; you hopped out of the car and walked towards your apartment building, Micheal right behind you.

"You don't have to walk me to my door, Micheal; I'll be fine."

"Who am I to defy orders?"

That made you stop and turn towards him.

"You’re wrong, Tommy's with Grace. We're friends; he has no feeling like that towards me."

"You sure about that"

"I just delivered his baby, Micheal."

"Exactly," he said, then turned around and left.

You walked into your building and up the steps to your apartment; you stood at the door searching for your keys and became frustrated when you couldn't find them. You threw your bag at the door, making everything fall and spill across the floor.

You took a deep breath before squatting down, picking everything up, and putting them back; your keys had also been on the ground. You grabbed them and unlocked the door, walking in and shutting it behind you.

You walk over to your bed and jump in it; you don't even have the energy to change. You were so tired, and your head hurt trying to figure out what Micheal got from playing with your head like this.

You wouldn't even let yourself go down the guessing road; he was with Grace, and that was final. They were apart and came back stronger than ever; their love was fairy-tale-like.

You couldn't help yourself, though; a small part of you still thought,

What if.

********************************

Months have passed since you last seen Tommy since you delivered his baby. You haven’t seen him, but you know he was keeping tabs on you. You also started to see Arthur less; he was a changed man so he says. He met a new dime, Linda. You’re not going to lie, you don’t like the bitch, but Arthur does, and seeing as he has stopped the fighting, drinking, and even snow, you’ve decided to let it go.

You still see peaky boys, though; they have become a part of your day-to-day life. You can’t remember the last time you had a regular patient or even a day off. And you needed a day off, you barely sleep cause of all the doubles you’ve been pulling at the hospital, and you never go out anymore. You honestly don’t remember the last time you got laid.

It’s been a while.

So that’s why you decided to take the day off and to take up one of the doctors at the hospital's offer to go out.

You honestly didn’t care where the doctor took you or what y’all talked about; you had one goal tonight: getting laid.

You were ready to go out, sitting at your kitchen table bucking your shoes, when you heard a knock on your door. He was early, but you were ready, so it was fine. You walked over to the door, a smile taking over your face. You opened the door and were immediately pushed out of the way as someone invited themselves into your home.

“ Um, excuse me,” you said, turning around to meet the stranger.

Only it wasn’t a stranger. It was Tommy

And he wasn’t alone; he had his son in his arms.

“What's wrong?” You asked, rushing over to them.

“ he fell. I was changing him, and he fell, and he cried and cried, but then he just stopped.” He was pacing your living room with the baby still in his arms.

You slowly approached him.

“ It’s ok, Tommy, babies aren’t glass, ok. Every kid has been dropped on their head, I’d reckon Arthur, more than once.”

You got him to stop pacing with your words, but he still held the baby in a death grip.

“ Let me see him, Tommy; everything going to be fine, just let me see him.” You spoke as softly as you could as you stood before him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

He looked up from the baby to look at you; you nodded as you placed your hands under his to take the baby from his hands. He slowly let go of the baby, releasing him to you. Once you fully secured the baby, you held him close as you walked over to your med bag at home. You fetched out your stethoscope and put it on before listening to the baby’s heart rate and breathing; you then checked his pupil reaction with your small flashlight.

The baby seemed fine; Tommy probably put the baby to sleep by rocking it for so long, that’s why it probably stopped crying.

“ Your baby’s fine, no signs of brain damage; he is just sleeping. That’s why he stopped crying,” you said, walking back over to him, and handing him back his baby.

You could see his body ease up slowly as he rocked the baby back and forth.

“ Did you drive here, or” you trailed off

“ Yeah, but my car ran out of petrol; I’ve sent Curly to get me some more.”

You nodded slowly; you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do next.

“ Do you have a quiet place where I can put him down?”

“ Yes, my bedroom, it's over there,” You say, pointing towards the back of the room.

Tommy walks back towards your room, and you just stand there, uncertain what to do in your own home. He came back soon and started to head towards a seat in your living room and to make things less awkward, you took a seat across from him in the other chair.

“ Can I smoke in here?”

You nodded to his question; he pulled out his cigarette holder and took one before offering you one.

“ Oh no, I don’t smoke,” you said, making him make a face.

“ I only smoked that one time cause I was a bit stressed.”

He just nodded at you, lighting up his cig and taking a drag, and y’all just sat there; honestly, how long does it take to get some petrol. You couldn’t be this still any longer. You had to get up.

“ Would you like something to drink?” You asked, walking over to your drink table.” Whiskey fine?” you asked, even though you knew that’s all he drank

You turned back to see him nodding his head, so you continued to ask, “ Brown or white?”

“ Brown”

You poured the both of you a cup, filling yours up a bit more than his; you would need the whole bottle if he stayed any longer. You walked over to him, handing him his cup before sitting back in your seat. The silence followed again shortly after, and it was killing you; he had finished his cig, and you had finished your glass; you were seriously thinking about getting that petrol yourself.

“ You were a nurse in the war? “ Tommy asked, pointing towards your medals on the shelf above your fireplace.

“ Yes, I was stationed in France, you? “

You already knew the answer, though, cause of Arthur

“ Yep, I was in France, tunneler.” he finished his drink before continuing, “You kept your medals?”

Even though he didn’t phrase it like a question, you still knew he was asking why you had kept them.

This question caught you slightly off guard, but you knew most people around here threw theirs into the cut as a fuck you to the king for the way they were treated when they got back.

“ You mean, why didn’t I throw them in the cut like everyone else?” You asked as you got up, getting his cup and you for a much-needed refill. “ I don’t see them like how you might; I see them as my team telling me good job and not the king. My team nominated me for the medal, not the king.”

He nodded, slowly taking his drink back and sipping before asking you another question.

“ And the war,” he cleared his throat, “is it still with you.”

You didn’t know why he was asking you all these questions, but you didn’t mind answering them. The more you talked about your experience, the easier it was to continue your life and leave the war in the past.

“ Honestly, there must be something wrong with my brain because no matter how hard I try to think back, I can’t remember half of the things that happened.” You let out a slight chuckle as you spoke.

“Nothing, eh?”

“ Well, not nothing; I remember why I was nominated for that medal.” You paused, unsure if you should tell this story. Men like Tommy don’t often reminisce about their time in France. But Tommy tipped his glass towards you, encouraging you along.

“ Ok, umm, my group and I had been relocated closer to the battlefield; we were located where fighting had taken place and tunnels dug. So there were a lot of caved-in holes and shells everywhere, but they said they had swept the area, and there were no bombs or anything. Nightfall came, and we were all set up; everyone but the guards were asleep. I couldn’t, though; I could hear the fighting going on in the distance. And even though it was really dumb, I went for a walk. I just couldn’t keep still and didn’t want to wake up the others.”

You looked down and realized that you had finished your drink, so you got up to get some more; you went over to the drink table but didn’t pour anything. Instead, you just leaned against it before turning back to face Thomas.

“ I was walking, and um, I tripped, fell right on my face. I had dropped my flashlight, hitting the ground must have turned it off. So I reached around looking for it, and that was when I touched something, but it wasn’t my flashlight; it was my hand. I panicked and backed up as quickly as possible and ended up finding my flashlight. I quickly turned it on and saw a hand sticking up from the mud, almost like it had broken through. I was trying to calm myself down when I saw the hand twitch; I had assumed the guy was dead. Next thing I know, I’m on my hands and knees digging through the dirt, and it seemed like no matter how fast and hard I dug, dirt kept refilling up the hole.” Tears started falling from your cheek, but you wiped them quickly, not wanting to cry in front of Tommy.

“ I uhh eventually was able to dig his head out, then shoulders and then I was able to pull him out, he wasn’t breathing, so I began CPR and mouth to mouth, the mud got all in my mouth cause his face was caked with it, but I didn’t care. Finally, after five minutes, he began coughing and gasping for air; I pulled him up into my lap, propping him up a bit, hoping that would help. Then he opened his eyes. He had tried to speak, but he just kept saying the same thing over and over again; he wasn’t making any sense. I told him he should save his strength, which made him quiet down. And so we just laid there for a bit, with him in my lap holding onto my arms; he just looked at me, and I looked at him. He eventually remembered that other men were still down in the tunnels, and thankfully, the tunnel hadn’t fully clasped. Together, we dug them out and helped them back to camp. They were all too badly injured for us to help, so they were driven to the nearest hospital.”

You had walked over to Thomas, picking up his cigarette holder, taking one, and lighting it up. Tommy took notice but didn’t say anything.

“ Soon after I was nominated for the award, the soldiers I had saved and the nurse in my unit nominated me. And the rest is history.” You took a couple more puffs of the cig before putting it out on the table since you didn’t have an ashtray.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but there was a knock at the door; you walked over to it, opened it, and was greeted by Curly.

“ Tommy, I’ve got the petrol for you and filled your car; it's all ready to go.”

You turned to face him, smiling, before heading to your room to pick up the baby. You brought the baby out to Thomas, placing him in his hands.

“ Welp, this has been fun, but I’m tired, and this little one needs to get home. See you, Tommy.”

He said your name, tilting his head down before leaving your apartment.

You have never told that story to anyone before; it brought up a lot of emotions, more than you expected. It had felt good telling that story, though, especially with a person who also served, who might have understood where you were coming from.

You had washed up and changed your clothes; the Whiskey made your eyes feel heavy, and you practically had to drag yourself to bed. You did make it, though. You got under the covers all warm and cozy, and you were about to fall asleep when you suddenly realized,

You never went on your date.

********************

You wish you could say the next time you saw, Tommy was as pleasant as the last.

You had a late shift at the hospital tonight.

You walked into the hospital late, around 8:00 p.m. The air felt good, and you had been inside all day at home, so you decided to walk to work; it wasn’t far. You had run into a friend at the door and were walking in together. She was talking to you about her lazy husband, but as soon as you entered the hospital, you had tuned her out. You heard a voice screaming in the distance; you knew that voice. You started running in the direction the voice was coming from, leaving your friend without a goodbye.

It felt like you were running in slow motion; the hallway was getting longer and longer, and you thought you would never get to the end.

When you finally reached the end, you stopped and scanned the room. Tommy was being held back by multiple guards and doctors, Polly and Linda were screaming at the nurses, Arthur had been pressed to the floor, and John was against the wall.

“ Mr.Shelby, if you don’t calm down, we will have to put you out,” one of the nurses said, trying to get him to calm down, but that only made him more mad.

The nurse screamed as Tommy held a gun to her face. “ I’m sorry, what was that? hmm”

You had rushed over, placing yourself in between the gun and the nurse,

“ Tommy, Tommy, look at me. What's wrong? Tell me how I can help.”

His breath was coming out shaking. He waved the gun to the side, trying to tell you to move, but you didn’t; he did it again, and you still didn’t move.

“ Move!” he yelled.

“ No, Tommy, what’s wrong?”

He yelled out in frustration, then put the gun back in his holder. He turned around walking away from you, putting his hands on top of his head.

“ Talk to me, please, Tommy.” You begged

You blinked and suddenly he was in your face, he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. He squatted down to your eye level before pointing his arm out in no particular direction, his mouth opened and closed, as he struggled to find the words.

“ Them fuckers shot Grace, and now these doctors won’t let me see her.”

“ Ok, I will go check on her, okay, but you can’t threaten them; they’re just doing their job.”

“ Ok, Tommy,” he nodded slowly back at you.

“ Ok,” he whispered.

You turned to the nurse you had protected earlier.

“ Take them to a private waiting room, please.” She nodded, whispering a small thank you as you walked towards the surgical wing. You were about to walk through the door when you had been tugged back; it was Tommy.

“ I got her, Tommy, I promise.” He squeezed your hand before letting go.

You pushed through the door to the surgical wing and started to run; you weren’t sure which room she was in, so you checked every single one, busting through the door and looking at the person on the table. You have reached the last surgery room with no luck so far. Grace had to be in this room; it was the last one. You opened the door, saying a slight prayer.

“ Time of death 10:55”

You tried to talk, but the words got trapped in your throat; you felt it sitting there, causing your throat to burn as you struggled to breathe. Tears began falling down your face as you fell against the wall, feeling too weak to stand alone. This wasn’t supposed to happen; this isn’t how things were supposed to go.

“ No,” you sobbed out.

“ No, no, no, no, no, what did you do?” you screamed at the Doctor.

You pushed yourself off the wall, walking over to Grace; you touched her arm, and she was still warm. You looked up at the Doctor; it was Dr.Brown.

“ What did you do? The shot was to the fucking shoulder; what - did - you - do”

He just stared at you, not answering you. You looked around the room, and everyone was staring at you. You went around the table and pushed Dr.Brown against the wall; you didn’t know what you were doing; you didn’t know what you wanted from him.

“ Do you think you could tell Thomas for me?” his voice was shaky.

You let go of him, walking backward. You stared at him in disgust, and then you started to laugh.

It was an eerie laugh; you were practically choking on it. You wiped the tears and snot from your face with the back of your hands.

“You want me to tell him that you killed his wife because you don’t want him to smell the alcohol on your breath 'cause you want to live right.”

The Doctor stared at you with his mouth gaping open like a fish; you even saw his eyes start to fill up with tears.

“ Oh, don’t worry, I’ll tell him, and when he’s in the right mind, I’ll tell him that you’re a drunk and you killed his wife.”

You walked out before he could spill some bullshit to you.

You wanted to walk slowly and drag your feet, but you knew better.

You’ve lost patients before and family, but it didn’t feel like this. You’ve never felt like this; you never felt so responsible for someone's death.

You know that there was no way you could have stopped it, and there was no way you could have known. But what if, what if you called a taxi instead of walking? What if you told the police about the Doctor's drinking. So many moments played through your head, so many moments you wished you changed because somehow this feels like your fault. You knew that. Dr. Brown was a drunk; you should have fought harder with the hospital board. You should’ve-

You stopped cause; deep down, you knew there was nothing you could have done. There is no way you could have saved Grace.

You approached the private waiting room and stood there for a second to gather yourself. This death isn’t yours to cry for; it’s theirs. You wiped your tears and snot on your shirt; you cleared your throat and took a deep breath.

You pushed open the door and entered the room; they all stood when you entered, except for Tommy, who already standing cause he had been pacing. You looked around the room. Every single person's eyes were on you, waiting for you to speak; it was so quiet, no one made a sound.

“ So,” Tommy’s voice cracked as he spoke.

You took a deep breath before you tried to speak, and you tried, you really did, but you couldn’t keep it together. A sob left your mouth before you could stop it.

This caused Polly to bring her hand to her mouth as she fought back her tears.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before trying again.

“ I’m s-so sorry, Tommy; when I got there, she was already gone. There was nothing I could do.” Your voice grew horse as you spoke, and your throat burned as your fought back tears.

“No,” he whispered.

“ Tommy”

“NO!” he shouted before throwing the chair across the room.

Polly started telling everyone to get out and give him some space, but you stayed. You knew the last thing he needed was to be alone with his thoughts.

Everyone had left, and it was just you two alone.

He had stopped throwing things and rested his head against the wall.

“ Get out”

“ No,” you said, walking over to him,

You had placed your hand on his shoulder, but it was only for a second cause soon he had flipped you, and now you were against the wall. He held a tight grip on your shoulders, keeping you bound to the wall. His eyes started directly into yours, and even though he appeared mad, his eyes showed he was hurt.

He pushed you deeper into the wall. “Why didn’t you save her?” You heard the pain in his voice as he spoke. “You saved me; you brought me back to life; why couldn’t you save her? Why couldn’t you bring her back.” He whispered out

You just stared at him; you were speechless.

Then it finally happened: he broke down; you put your arms around him as he slowly fell to the ground, with you falling with him.

You held him in your arms as he cried; his grip on your arms kept tightening as if you would let him go. You hadn’t planned on it; you would hold him till he asked you to let go. You’d lay here as he slept if he needed you to.

He needed you, and you were going to be there for him.

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #michael gray #polly gray #ada shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x y/n

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lemotmo · 27 days

Text

Where is the promised romcom?

So I’ve been mulling something over in my head for days now. In one of his cameos/interview Lou said that Tim called him up to play Tommy again and that he would eventually get involved with Buck. He said that Tim wanted to create some kind of a romcom situation for Buck. (Did Tim mention the same thing in an interview somewhere? Or did I just make that up in my head? I’m not sure. I thought he said something in the same vein, but I might be wrong. Not that it’s relevant to this post.)

Well, where is the romcom?

Buck and Tommy basically met in 7x03, exchanged one simple look and then nothing until 7x04 where he spent all of this time obsessing over Eddie having a new friend, only to reveal in the end that he liked Tommy. (Which… really? Even Tommy was all ‘My attention?’ Are you sure about that?) Cue Buck and Tommy kiss. Then in 7x05 they go on a very awkward date. Buck ends up saying something very dumb, so Tommy leaves. In the end he asks him to meet for coffee and they reconcile. (Then Buck proceeds to be dumb again as he asks Tommy to be his date to his sister’s wedding. Which is sooo not a good idea for a second date. But whatever.) I’m sure we’ll see them being cute together at the wedding and there might even be a dance and/or kiss. But it’s all so bland and uninteresting. Where's the chemistry? Where’s the tension?

So again, where is the romcom in this scenario?

Compare it to this:

Buck and Eddie meet in season 2. When Buck sees Eddie for the first time ‘Whatta man’ is playing as introduction music. There is some hostility at first, but they get over it pretty quickly. They become fast best friends that help each other through hardships. They support each other through the lawsuit (which hurts their friendship, but only briefly), the tsunami, the firetruck falling on top of Buck’s leg, the shooting, the Eddie breakdown, different relationships… They are there for each other, through everything. Buck also forms a very tight bond with Eddie’s son: Christopher.

Next to that, they are there for each other on an emotional level. They understand each other better than anyone else. They’re like two peas in a pod.

So basically, they are a unit at this point. Sure, they still see each other as best friends, but that isn’t a problem, because best friends realise they’re in love with each other all the time in romcoms.

This is such a great set up for a romcom. They love each other through and through, but never considered there might be more to it. (Although I still headcanon that Eddie knows exactly how he feels about Buck. He has known since the shooting. But that’s neither here nor there.) Now one of them comes out as bisexual (which again YAY!) and the other will be forced to rethink their relationship. Eddie will see Buck and Tommy together and he will be confronted with them at the wedding. Romcom-wise this could be an excellent opportunity to introduce some feelings of discomfort in Eddie, when he sees them together. Or they could go with the romcom trope of the current ‘boyfriend’ (Even though Tommy isn’t his boyfriend yet. They haven’t even gone out on a second date.) realising that his love interest is completely gone over his best friend and gently remind him of that or make him realise that’s what it is. Or maybe they will reveal to us that Eddie has been aware of his feelings all this time, he just didn’t think he ever stood a chance with Buck.

There are so many ways to go with this scenario. If it’s just bucktommy, there is no real romcom scenario to explore. But if you add Buddie to that story, it just becomes so much more interesting and potentially romcommy (Is that even a word?).

This isn’t saying that Eddie (nor Buck for that matter) doesn’t still have a lot to unpack in his personal life and that everything will be peachy with Buck as soon as they realise they are into each other, but it will set up a great narrative for them to try to ‘hide’ their feelings from each other, telling other people while trying to act ‘normal’ when they’re spending time together. Eddie still thinking bucktommy are together, when in reality they have become just friends. Buck thinking that Eddie would never be interested in him because he is ‘straight’. Endless romcom scenarios to choose from right there.

Finally, I know there has been a rumour going around that Buck won’t be able to afford his loft anymore and he’ll move in with Eddie. It’s just speculation based on a few random facts and observations, but I swear, if we get this scenario? I will ascend! It would be the peak romcom scenario: Two friends moving in together while one of them (or maybe both?) is still possibly in a relationship? I have seen this movie before, many times. And let me tell you… the people forced to co-habit because of outside circumstances? They always end up together.

TLDR, in the end, in a romcom you want the audience to cheer on the couple with the deepest connection and chemistry. The superficial love interest (Which fits Tommy to a T. I mean, what do we even know about the guy? Nothing, only that he is brought in to help Buck out of the closet. What does Buck know about him? Not a lot. He hardly spends time with him before he gets kissed by him.) never turns out to be ‘the one’.

I don’t know guys. All of this just makes so much sense to me. Only time will tell if I’m right (or wrong).

Thoughts?

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy as a stepping stone #not tagging 'bucktommy' for obvious reasons #ship and let ship and all #911 spoilers

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hesalleyes · 1 year

Text

If you're a bit confused about Rusty Quill or what's been happening, hopefully this will be a handy guide.

Hello everyone, especially all newbies to the Rusty Quill family! I thought I'd talk a little bit about the company. There's a lot of information out there, some of which may be contradictory or difficult to find, and so I compiled it into what I think is a decent timeline. I've also included some of my thoughts on what Rusty Quill has been through, and where it's going.

(check the end for associated footnotes!)

A Brief And Mostly Objective Timeline For Rusty Quill Ltd.

Alexander J. Newall wanted to start a company for creatives. His father (presumably) laid down the starting capital and Rusty Quill was founded 29th June 2015. Alex owned 99% of the company, John Newall, 1%. (1)

Alex reached out to a bunch of his improv friends and asked if they would participate in an actual-play podcast. Alex hadn't seen a fully produced actual-play with sound effects and background music and he wanted to fill that niche in the market. James Ross, Bryn Monroe, and Lydia Nicholas all agreed. Tim Meredith was otherwise engaged, but said his brother Ben would be up for it. Rusty Quill Gaming (RQG) was born and started airing episodes in June 2015.

Meanwhile, besides running, editing, producing, directing, and mastering RQG, Alex also worked nights at an extremely boring data entry job James Ross set up for him. James also helped Jonny Sims get that same job (2). At the time, Jonny was playing gigs with his band The Mechanisms, but his passion was for writing. The Mechanisms were a folk band that reimagined classic stories/myths to music with hefty narrative pieces, which has obvious applicability to a podcast company. Because of this fortuitousness, sometime in 2013-14, Alex and Jonny met and found that they were both highly creative people who desperately wanted out of this job. Jonny invited Alex to a Mechanisms show at the Edinburgh Fringe.

Alex loved The Mechs show. He was convinced he must work with Jonny on something. Jonny had a few ideas and pitched what would become The Magnus Archives, though it was first more of a Twilight Zone anthology, which is why the "narrator" had Jonny's name. Alex wanted to add more of a narrative framework and they shaped it together, all five seasons, so that it was cohesive the whole way through. Some things did, organically, pop up later. For instance, Martin started mainly as a foil to Jon, and only became the love interest after a bit of writing.

Around 2018, Patreon funding eventually allowed RQ to build a studio in Rusty Towers that enabled them to record their high-quality audio (3). Before that, they were - at various times - recording in a ‘yurt’ made of blankets and duvets for most of season one (usually at James Ross’ house or Martyn’s hallway, since Alex was - at that point - intermittently homeless due to asbestos problems).(4)

In 2016, RQ set up the Rusty Quill Forums, an official RQ fan-space where fans could interact with each other and RQ members. (5) This early arena for interaction would precipitate the more immediate (and much larger) Discord, Rusty Quill Official. Anil Godigamuwe, Community Manager, was the main force behind running and moderating the forums.

2016 was also the year that Mike Lebeau decided to gather a few people to play games and raise money for charity in what would become the predecessor to Rusty Quill Giving and Gaming. This event involved only Mike, Bryn, Ben, Anil, and Martyn Pratt (Chief Technology Officer). It only lasted twelve hours and they raised £700. (6)

Late 2017, Rusty Quill, in association with Historic Royal Palaces, released Outliers, a historical fiction podcast. Probably the least known of RQ’s podcasts, but very good and well-done. (Yes, this is a plug for Outliers. Go listen! It's great!)

In 2018, the Rusty Quill Official Discord server (RQO) went live and most of the fans from the forums moved there. (7)

February 15, 2019, Stellar Firma, the improv comedy sci-fi show starring Tim and Ben Meredith, began airing.

Mike wanted to explore more of the video side of creating. On January 25, 2020, RQ Streams launched, and soon there was a decent amount of content generated on RQ’s Twitch channel. Video content would gain traction in the form of New Player Challenge (NPC). Many RQ members would stream, including Anil, Autumn, several editors, and Helen Gould (member of Rusty Quill Gaming and later promoted to Head of Inclusion). The streams would get big enough that RQ would eventually hire a few mods specifically for the streams (30). RQ Streams wasn't fiscally sound as a primary source of income, but streaming helped encourage community engagement.

In February 2020, Alex gave an interview to Haggis and Dragons at PodUK. The host asked why, despite their success, Rusty Quill hadn't been present at many events such as PodUK before. Alex responded that the company was dedicated to making sure they took care of their people first, but now that all the finicky backend admin stuff was finished, they could do fun things like conventions. (8)

A month later, COVID-19 shut down the world.

At this point, TMA had been running for four years, and - while relatively successful and critically admired- was still a smallish podcast, especially when measured against engagement levels of other fiction podcasts at the time. Whether COVID, the whim of Tumblr, or a spark that refused dim, the fuse on TMA had been lit. It would jump sharply with the season four finale in Halloween 2019, but when season five premiered on April 2, 2020, TMA was at its second highest peak in popularity , its highest only a month away. It would maintain a high level of engagement until the series finale in March 2021. (9) Whatever the reason, TMA had exploded, and no one could've predicted it.

In July 2020, Hannah Brankin, Chief Operations Officer and spouse of Alex Newall, became a director in the Rusty Quill company. (10)

In August 2020, Autumn Jarvis (longtime fan of RQ) with a history of convention organization came on as Community Assistant. (11) This role promoted her to Head Moderator of the Discord (RQO), coordinating communication between the Discord mods and RQ admin. RQ hired her to help Anil, as at this point, RQO had nearly 8000 members.

The official Rusty Quill Discord server (RQO) went from a reasonable 1000 participants to nearly 14,000 before its shutdown in September 2021. In August 2020 (a few days after Autumn took over), a group raided RQO, proclaiming issues of racism, ableism, and other accusations directed at Rusty Quill, but also at the volunteer mods. It was the only major attack, but from time to time small incursions would occur thereafter. RQO’s many mods (at least 11, at one point) were unpaid. Whether or not that was a good business decision is debatable, but mods were responsible for monitoring content that was Patreon-exclusive, so one might think a Patreon subscription should’ve been included.

April 2, 2021, Patreon-exclusive Inexplicables began airing. The show was initially met with a lot of positive feedback and excitement. The RQO channels were full of theorizing and chat, which Alex could be seen reading. While Inexplicables seemed ripe for a sequel, there have been no indications of future content.

In May of 2021, Rusty Quill launched the Rusty Quill Network. Many felt the network wasn’t explained sufficiently, but subsequent clarification from Autumn verified that RQ was not doing any of the following for the new shows that would be included under the network’s umbrella: producing, funding, editing, or creating. Apparently, the RQN was designed to act as a distribution and collective bargaining service. Unfortunately, this aspect was never made explicit to the fans by official RQ channels.

In September of 2021, Autumn was terminated. While Autumn has stated the reason she was terminated, it was on a private server and because RQ has made no official statement regarding the termination, I won’t share that information. RQ did ask if she would like to appeal the decision, but Autumn declined. Later, the mods organized a walkout in protest and quit. Only the mod known as Crunchy remained, and was the last one to close out the server. Later, he would admit that the mods actively decided not to include him in this decision. (12) While there were RQ Streams mods, they, unfortunately, didn’t have as much power as the Discord mods and were unable to assist much (30). RQ released a statement on September 15, 2021 regarding the closing of the Discord and the mod walk-out, and RQO has been dark ever since. (13)

RQ Streams, it’s worth mentioning at this point, had some mods specifically for streams, but also relied on the Discord mods to moderate the chat during streams (30). Ultimately, when the mods walked out, RQ Streams was also forced to stop.

Since the mod walkout, any events run and sponsored by RQ have been modded by volunteers, and usually small enough that it hasn’t become an issue (RQGG21 being modded by some Discord mods, with other Gather events modded mostly by RQ employees) (30).

April 26, 2022, Chapter and Multiverse, the analogous successor to Rusty Quill Gaming run by Maddy Searle, the former lead editor of Stellar Firma, began airing. It would conclude its first season in August. While RQ has indicated that C&M will continue, it has been postponed until 2023. However, Maddy Searle posted a tweet (since deleted) indicating she is no longer employed at Rusty Quill. After claims that Maddy was reprimanded and forced to take down the tweet, RQ would later clarify that they have a 48 hour confidentiality policy regarding things like that, and that's why they requested the removal of the tweet for that time. Maddy hasn't reposted the tweet, or commented publicly on her reasons for doing so.

On June 10, 2022, Mike announced he was leaving Rusty Quill. (14) Although others had also streamed on RQ’s Twitch in the past, he was the primary force driving its relevance and the channel has remained mostly unused since the aforementioned Discord mod walkout, most likely citing lack of moderation as a main concern.

August 2, 2022, the original RQ production Trice Forgotten premiered. Trice Forgotten continues to update.

As per the September 21, 2022 Patreon email, Cry Havoc! and Neon Inkwell, the other RQ original productions, have been postponed to 2023. (29)

With their three original podcasts completed and many future projects postponed, Rusty Quill had reached a quiescent stage. Patreon emails were sparse and while RQ maintained a loyal base, activity around the company had slowed.

Then -

October 10th, 2022 a string of strange letters appeared in a Patreon email. (15) Fandom quickly deduced that it wasn't a mistake, but rather a cipher. A Discord server dedicated to cracking the code sprang up almost immediately and fandom deciphered the cryptic letters in a few hours. This began a mini-ARG leading to the announcement of a Magnus Archives "side-quel": The Magnus Protocol. On a subsequent livestream, Alex confirmed the sequel and announced that the project would be fully funded by a Kickstarter. No money would be taken from Patreon, current or proposed shows, income generated through ads, agreements, merch, RQN residuals, etc. (16)

The Magnus Protocol Kickstarter launched November 22. It was fully funded in less than one minute, and as-of publishing this post is currently at £ 624,268, 4162% of their original goal. Release for the project is expected in October 2023 and is said to follow two British civil servants, Alice and Sam, as they deal with the legacy of the burned-down Magnus Institute of Manchester. Curious, as the Magnus Institute from the original series was very much based in London. (17)

On December 12, 2022, Newt Schottelkotte - marketing director for the Fable and Folly podcast network - released an opinion article on Medium detailing several allegations against Rusty Quill. (18) Schottelkotte submitted the article to several publications that declined to publish it. They decided to self-publish on Medium, which allows for independent publication. In good faith, I won’t presume this was a targeted attack by another network, but rather the opinion of a contingent of industry professionals who tried to represent those allegedly wronged by Rusty Quill as a production company (perhaps taking advantage of the timing of the new Kickstarter to gain traction for their post - but that one can only leave to speculation). The testimonies were anonymous.

December 13, 2022, after a resulting influx of polarizing social media posts, RQ released an official response to the Medium article, refuting most points raised. (19)

Now, before I get into less fact-based territory, and knowing RQ intends to announce a more recent Operations Update in the new year, I feel it's relevant going forward to mention that for all the talk surrounding both sides of the story, the composition of Rusty Quill is not as large as some might think, considering the assumptions of some of the claims. In 2021 the company conducted a voluntary internal census on company makeup and satisfaction. (20) At the time they had 28 employees. 23 responded, and here are a few interesting tidbits they had to say:

91% identify as Neurodivergent

30% identify as non-cisgender; 48% identify as female, 26% as male, and 26% as not exclusively one of those categories

30% are people of color

30% identify as bisexual, 9% pansexual, & 9% queer. 26% identify as heterosexual. These numbers may or may not include the 17% who identify as asexual.

This census doesn’t include individual contractors (which comprises most of their editors and voice actors). In the census, RQ recognized their huge deficit in hiring people of color. RQ maintains a flat pay structure across all departments (including leadership), which - thanks to Patreon funding - stands above the London cost of living rate. (21)

The Less Than Objective Part

Rusty Quill is a small company. The average number of employees for 2022 was 21. (22) This number doesn't reflect possible layoffs/terminations since then. Most of its voice actors and editors are contracted. This is intended partially to allow flexibility on both RQ and the contractors’ part as well as enable RQ to diversify their talent without the contractual obligation of employment (the UK doesn’t recognize ‘at-will’ employment; termination must be for a cause). Meaning that even if the company finds itself in the position of having to terminate employees, it maintains the possibility of working with those same people as contractors to help out RQ financially, but also to allow those employees to find more stable or long term jobs in the interim.

However, holding onto only an essential team of staff (as you find in any small company, but especially in an industry without historical regulation - often relying on a presumed integrity of nebulous industry standards, as opposed to codified protections) employees are often forced to wear many hats. Most often voluntarily, but often to their detriment. This manifested in such things as Autumn transcribing Stellar Firma, without any transcription experience, or the continual mishap of Alex or Hannah responding to delicate situations with off-the-cuff inexpertise (generally sweet and earnest, but not as diplomatic or clear as needed - something that larger companies potentially avoid with dedicated teams regarding media training), but is perhaps most apparent in the early stages of RQG and TMA where Alex, in addition to being a primary player/voice actor, did the majority of the editing and mastering until Lowri Ann Davies joined halfway through RQG. Based exclusively on the runtimes of RQG episodes/specials (not including how long it actually took to edit down recorded footage to what we hear), Alex edited a total of 217 hours of RQG, over 9 whole days, or nearly 83% of the content. (23) Early specials, behind the scenes specials, and Q&As often contain jokes about Alex needing to sleep. This sort of work-life balance should not be necessary for success, but many creatives know that it’s the unfortunate reality for many startups without the resources of a major media network backing them.

And, as evidenced here, despite its exposure and popularity Rusty Quill’s resources were limited from the start. Alex and Hannah, as directors and main shareholders in the company, are solely responsible for the company’s fiscal viability. As such, I think this has led to some decisions where one or both of them have taken over projects or refused to delegate when it would have better served that project or even themselves. But there’s also something to be said for a duty of care, and the difficulty of giving that up.

In such an environment, it’s not surprising that a large part of smaller podcasting companies’ revenue is generated through fan-funding. The grassroots organization of a devoted fanbase can help grow a company without access to other funds or a robust marketing budget. Steady patreon subscriptions can make up for periods of instability in advertising returns, but issues begin to arise when companies encounter something like RQ did: an explosion in popularity that lacked sustainability, and the contingencies and strategies to deal with that. However, it’s a double-edged sword. The importance of Patreon and fan goodwill can help create the mentality that RQ owes the fans something. Nothing in Patreon's TOS requires artists to offer rewards; the idea behind Patreon - at least to me - is that in exchange of supporting someone making art you enjoy, you occasionally get glimpses into the creative process behind that art. This idea has evolved over the years, but I think Patreon has become, to some people, more transactional: I pay you five dollars, you give me one piece of art. This more give-take mentality can lead to feelings of ownership; fans pay for RQ to exist, therefore they should have a say in how RQ conducts its business. Whether RQ views it that way or not.

RQ has begun to diversify their income, however, with the creation of the RQN, where they get fees from providing marketing and distribution services for other podcasts. Although RQ has experienced a drop in Patrons, it has returned to subscription levels similar to those before the meteoric rise of TMA and is hopefully navigating towards finding a balance between delivering what fans want without enabling an unhealthy relationship of catering to what’s profitable instead of what they want and are excited about making. (24)

Fandom and The Illusion of Closeness

There’s no denying that many creatives have an intimate relationship with their audience, especially smaller and/or newer ventures. RQ had, for a long time, quite a close relationship with its fans. It’s still visible in the old forums, where Alex, Mike, and Anil could be seen posting with regularity. There are many images from past RQGGs (even up to RQGG19) where RQ staff and fans casually mingled.

However, there is an issue with something like Discord where the immediacy of contact creates the illusion of intimacy. The ability to ping a creator facilitates the idea that the creator is therefore available and willing to be pinged. It’s not so much an issue when there are 1000 people on a server with only a hundred or so active, and only a fraction of them irregularly contacting creatives. When that number goes up, even proportionally, it results in a huge uptick in forced contact. It’s been theorized that both Jonny Sims and Ben Meredith stepped back from the Discord server because of crossed boundaries. Another staff member had a fan harass them to the point of needing to block said fan and the fan was eventually banned from RQO by the mods.

On the other hand, Community Manager Anil continued to always be available and Alex & Hannah would occasionally hop on and respond when they were active. This apparent ease of access can trick people into believing that they are close to the creators, and the illusion of this perceived relationship can be problematic for both parties.

In these circumstances it’s natural for creators to develop a persona to protect themselves. There’s nothing wrong with this and it is, in fact, a healthy and smart thing to do; the person fans interact with is not, exactly, who that person is. Not to say they’re fake or lying, but that creators deserve a degree of privacy that comes from concealing certain things about themselves that fans aren’t - and shouldn’t be - privy to. Fans’ insistence on access to creators and their secrets can be extremely difficult and exhausting, especially for creators who don’t have a publicity or security team. For instance, Jonny was forced to reveal his past with drug abuse when people incessantly questioned and berated him about his portrayal of drug abuse in "Strung Out," a season five episode of TMA (notably also when the fandom had exploded beyond the comfortable community of its earlier seasons). Fan entitlement to knowledge about creators and access to them can be particularly egregious in this sort of setting where the creators are trying to maintain the intimate community they used to enjoy, one that (at least in the initial stages) they relied on financially, while dealing with a huge influx of new fans. Even Critical Role, arguably the largest podcast in the actual-play genre, has suffered from a similar issue, though the actors in CR have much more experience than RQ.

Rusty Quill is a business and their dealings are of proprietary interest. Like any other entertainment company, they produce a product for consumption but the way they run internally isn’t something consumers are (or should be) privy to - barring gross mistreatment which, despite claims, hasn’t been proven. When Autumn was terminated, RQ didn’t release an official statement on what led to the termination. While many fans wanted to know, RQ has no obligation to reveal internal processes like hiring/firing, especially if details of such could affect an employee’s future employment. Identifying particular employees as responsible for certain policies or potentially upsetting updates could open that employee to threats or harassment (which RQ experienced before).

The Disproportionate Critique of Small Creators

It would be ridiculous to assert that Rusty Quill has never made a mistake - sometimes repeatedly - or a misstep. They’ve issued an apology multiple times for the lack of sensitivity in their content or a miscommunication on their end. Miscommunication was, in fact, a key factor in why the Discord mods left. RQ tried to preemptively combat these issues by hiring Helen Gould as a sensitivity director to ensure their content had been looked over for things that could be harmful. Given their company makeup and the composition of their talent - both writing and on-air - RQ has tried to diversify itself so that their content doesn’t come solely from the perspective of cishet white male. Stellar Firma would be the only show to suffer from this, however, it’s worth mentioning that on the production side Maddy Searle and Katie Seaton seem to have been brought on intentionally to avoid, or at least ameliorate this issue.

There is a pervasive issue with fandom as a whole to apply a more rigorous rubric against smaller and/or indie companies producing entertainment because they’re accessible. It’s easy to see why this phenomenon exists; when a person sees that they can speak to a creator directly, that the creator might respond specifically to those critiques. It can feel as if the consumer has more power in the relationship. Complaining about Disney cutting out a lesbian kiss in Star Wars, for example, will never reach Bob Iger, but if you want to talk to James D’Amato about a choice he made in the most recent Skyjacks episodes, he’s almost certainly going to respond. By feeling more intimately connected to creators, fans can feel empowered to be more aggressive in their criticisms.

A sustainable medium must exist between the two extremes of critique. A small indie company like Rusty Quill cannot be above criticism because of its size or its intention to do better - at some point, it must actually be doing better (which, I believe, it has and is consistently endeavoring to). Conversely, it can’t be upheld to a stricter standard than a larger company purely because its creators are accessible and will directly encounter the critique aimed at them. Rusty Quill has expanded their base of collaborators - which includes having an open pitch form to allow anyone to submit ideas - and made headway on wider and more accurate representation in their shows. There are certainly other shows and companies tackling and portraying difficult issues and diversity with a better outcome than Rusty Quill. That doesn't detract from the efforts RQ is making and shouldn't invite a disproportionate level of critique.

So What Now?

While it is fair to offer critique aimed at Rusty Quill and what it does, I think the benefits of this coming from a large audience diminish due to a few factors: quantity with no control for quality, purity culture, and entitlement. These things could comprise a much much longer essay, but I’ll be brief.

One of the huge benefits RQ got out of early Patreon release on the Discord was a limited quantity of feedback. Alex would show up to ask about the sound quality: if anything seemed off or if we had comments or noticed something. Anil would collect extra content warnings if needed, and some titles even changed when fans pointed out redundancies. Both Alex and (to a much stronger degree) Helen interacted with patrons about Inexplicables, including thoughts and theories. At one point, RQ created a gaming system called Ensemble and elicited feedback from people, encouraging them to play. These comments and critique are very helpful for RQ because of their pointedness. Contrast this to the response to the s5 TMA episode “Strung Out" - or the controversy surrounding a later episode’s perceived insensitivity to current events, necessitating a warning and apology before the usual opening theme (a perception generated before the public launch of the episode, stoked by assumptions and Twitter discourse).

Fandom as a whole has veered bizarrely into an obsession with purity - if something isn’t perfect, then it shouldn’t exist. RQ will not and cannot get everything right. It’s not a format made for easy editing and revision after the fact. It can be lauded for its achievements and persuaded to do better in a way that isn’t overly aggressive or hyperbolic. People tend to forgive mistakes if they like something and focus on them if they don’t, but it’s better to avoid assigning a moral value to something like representation - the effort and commitment is important. (For clarity - I believe it is moral and ethical to do everything you can to achieve accurate and diverse representation. The morality I reference here is more in regards to labeling something, irredeemably, as bad just because it doesn’t live up to your expectations).

Not to be repetitive, but fans in smaller fandoms often feel a sense of entitlement because of their ease of access to creators. If Alex is right there talking about the Trice Forgotten schedule, why shouldn’t he answer a prod about the continuation of Chapter & Multiverse??? The answer is that he’s updating you on Trice - not Chapter. Fans are not, and shouldn’t be, part of the internal machinations of a company, however close they feel, and why certain things happen or when isn’t always going to be obvious. RQ has varying degrees of success when it comes to updating their fans about timelines or happenings in the company, and while there is definitely room for improvement, overall, it shouldn’t be a requirement or expectation. That is to say - the relentless inundation of tangential comments or questions offers no benefit and can impose an increasing feeling of frustration: for the company, for the fan asking, and for the fans witnessing. Not even mentioning the personel issue. RQ has shown a willingness to acknowledge, apologize, and modify their content when there are complaints made against it. Because RQ has acted this way, it might invite the idea that they should have the same transparency and openness to comment about the way their business runs; of which they have no obligation to do so, and in many instances, definitely should not.

For instance, several people may have been let go from Rusty Quill recently, probably because of financial issues due to the downturn in the UK economy (see RQ’s statement for more specific reasoning). Although it is tempting to be angry or upset about it, businesses make decisions involving structure and the reorganization of employees in their company all the time. For a variety of reasons. Lay-offs or terminations may be needed in order to keep a company afloat. Often these legal reasons and internal processes cannot be disclosed, and barring that the individuals involved may not have consented to their information becoming public - despite audiences wanting to see corporate due diligence. The point is that while it might be comforting to know why things happened, ultimately it isn’t reasonable to expect a company to share those details or any others that have to do with its internal running or function.

Moving Forward

Rusty Quill is in a precarious position. The unexpected juggernaut of The Magnus Archives turned them from a small, emergent company to a well-known name in the podcast community. They were unprepared for it, very few people could be, and nearly three years later they’re still struggling to find a sustainable balance. RQ has had to adjust to the influx of fans, fan opinions, money, and the resulting issues of accountability. And now that TMA is over, they’ve had some time to try to adjust to not having that same monetary inflow. Whatever outward critique can be placed on them for how they’ve handled the transition, the formation of Rusty Quill Network seems to have leveled out their income in a way that will enable them to stay solvent, even if it means occasionally stopping to restructure and reorient. There is no provable model for success.

While some detractors may claim that the Magnus sequel Kickstarter is a huge windfall, it isn't necessarily so. Money made from a Kickstarter must go toward what is promised - hence the use of clearly stated stretch goals. It is against Kickstarter policy to give funds to charity, so the KS money will be used solely for projects relating to TMP. That money is spent and should be treated as thus and not a surge of new money into RQ’s coffers. It’s not a bail out. (25)

RQ has a brand that people trust and they should lean into that reputation, heavily promoting their new shows and focusing on getting those running. RQN seems instrumental in keeping the company afloat and therefore it’s understandable that so much time is spent introducing and promoting the shows taken under that umbrella (that’s part of the incentivizing service they offer RQN shows anyway), But RQ cannot expect the ad revenue from their new shows like they did with TMA and have to adjust accordingly. I hope RQ recognizes that they’re still mostly a small indie company with a surprise hit and allow themselves the restrictions - and responsibilities - of that.

As for fans, I think RQ should capitalize on the good favor they have and reengage the fandom in an appropriate manner. Livestreams are wonderful, but should automatically have slowmode to at least 30 seconds on any stream, 60 on a huge one (like the KS promotion livestream). It not only allows the on-air talent to catch some messages, but it allows the mods to filter easier. How they reestablish a team of mods is theirs to outline, but with better communication and potential benefits (i.e. a patreon subscription) it’s likely folks would be willing.

Secondly, I believe RQ should reinstate the forums. The benefit to something more static like forums (or reddit threads or whatever is similar) is the ease of moderation and the forced expansion of time. Without the instant chat function of Discord, it isn’t as overwhelming to participate in forums or threads. These should be official RQ forums and moderated (which won’t be as difficult as a Discord). As mentioned, compensation is a tricky subject because when you start paying ‘volunteers’ they can claim employment and it opens up RQ to a whole swath of responsibilities. A “Mod Team” shirt or pin, a patreon subscription, maybe some mod-creator meetups could be provided for services rendered.

RQ could possibly look into reopening the Discord, perhaps limiting it to patrons. While that would make it more manageable, it potentially leads to issues involving classism or elitism. It could also exacerbate the earlier issue of fan entitlement. If RQ decides to reopen the Discord, they should do so with a lot of consideration.

I'm a huge fan of Rusty Quill. There are plenty of times I’ve been frustrated or disappointed with them, but at its heart, it tries to accomplish what I think to be a noble and admirable goal. Rusty Quill seeks to create good art with an emphasis on highlighting diverse voices that might not otherwise get a chance to perform. And, from what I’ve seen despite some ups and downs, tries to do their best to create sustainable income for those they bring along as collaborators. The love the team has for storycrafting is obvious and that - along with their community - is where they should focus.

EDIT:

I started this post about three weeks ago, so the Medium article was a big surprise. I won’t dissect the article because that’s not my goal, but I do have a few thoughts.

So, let's address the article on Medium.

Here is the article so you can read it for yourself. https://medium.com/@newtschott/whos-afraid-of-alex-j-newall-ae3a67f3a5e1

Here is Rusty Quill's response: https://rustyquill.com/2022/12/13/public-response-to-an-opinion-piece/

This tumblr post speaks about an inaccurate quote that the article mentions, and I think is relevant: https://www.tumblr.com/dadhuddle/703488191401984000/journalistic-integrity-re-newt-schottelkottes-rq?source=share.

Here is a link to a tumblr post from Harlan Guthrie, creator of the Malevolent podcast, which is part of the RQN. I felt it important to get a point of view of someone involved in the network. https://www.tumblr.com/malevolentcast/703493906802868224/you-probably-already-know-about-this-but-an?source=share

The issues the article raises are very important. If these allegations are true, they need to be addressed. Newt being the marketing director of a rival podcast company and failing to disclose this for several hours casts the entire article in doubt because the conflict of interest is something ethical journalists would've avoided. (26) Newt also favorably compared RQ's practices to Fable and Folly. (27) Newt and the other two editors of the piece also provided their contact information to provide help with "research, job searches, and more" to former/current employees of RQ. (28) Neither of these things are inherently wrong, but Newt's connection to F&F casts them in a different light. This could possibly be construed as encouragement for current RQ employees or network shows to leave RQ for F&F. It's unfortunate, because this conversation needed to happen, especially if the purported issues are factual. Now there is a haze over the veracity of this article because of this lack of disclosure and the conflicts of interest from the author.

There has been some talk stating that podcast networks are not rivals. They can be friendly, they can share actors, they can share spaces. They almost certainly don't share profits. Every show added to a network brings in income for that network. If one of these networks dissolves, then the shows under its umbrella can move to one of the other networks, raising its profits. It's difficult to deny that one podcast network would benefit from the dissolution of another. I would identify that as rivals, even if they're friendly.

I don't believe that Fable and Folly had anything to do with this article. I don't even think Newt intended for them to be involved at all or for people to make that connection. It's the appearance of bias that muddies the waters. Most journalistic codes of ethics tell journalists to avoid conflicts of interest, real or perceived. If it seems a journalist has a stake in the outcome of a story, it compromises the neutrality and the authenticity of the piece.

And unfortunately, despite Newt's claims of a background in journalism (unverifiable at the time of posting this blog outside of editorial publications), the necessary practices to lend credence towards these allegations weren't followed.

This post represents my own opinions, based in my involvement in the community. I've tried to provide sources whenever I could, though much of it was lost when the RQ Discord shut down, or mired in the sheer breadth of content. If there's a blatant untruth, please let me know with supporting evidence so I can correct it.

Footnotes:

1. Establishment of the company and ownership as per the foundation documents.

2. Alex & Jonny working the same job James Ross gave them (160 Q&A)

3. Patreon funding builds new studio via Studio tour video: (the video is patron-only, so here is a screencap of Alex stating that Patreon funded the studio)

4. Alex was homeless for a while, retrospective 189.5 (amongst others)

5. Rusty Quill Forums https://rustyquill.proboards.com/board/1/general-board

6. RQ Forums post celebrating the first RQGG

7. Rusty Quill Official Discord goes live, via RQ Forums.

8. Haggis and Dragons interview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkYsA50Ts9M&list=FLaf41raWk5sb2VhQcEcPpsg&index=27

(Alex talking about the company stepping back from the public 12:30)

9. Popularity of the term “the magnus archives” from Google Analytics

10. Hannah becomes director, via RQ filing documentation

11. Autumn becomes Community Assistant, via Patreon email

12. Rusty Quill’s official statement about mods walkout.

Announcement - plain text 15-09-21.pdf

13. Crunchy's tweet

14. Mike LeBeau leaves RQ, via his twitter

15. The first Magnus sequel ARG prompt, via Patreon email

16. Oct 24 Pre-Kickstarter Announcement Livestream https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLOj5JKq-QU&t

17. The Magnus Protocol Kickstarter launch livestream https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Xk1hgVY2cc&t

18 Newt Schottelkotte's Medium piece: https://medium.com/@newtschott/whos-afraid-of-alex-j-newall-ae3a67f3a5e1

19 Rusty Quill's response to the Schottelkotte piece: https://rustyquill.com/2022/12/13/public-response-to-an-opinion-piece/

20. Rusty Quill internal census

21 The end of the RQ census summary:

22. Average number of employees at RQ in 2022, via RQ filing documentation

23. RQG editing stats, courtesy of the LOLOMG: A performance review by Oscar Wilde team (the team theorizes that Alex was still mastering during that early gap, but forgot to credit himself) [additional note: LOLOMG was a fan project to celebrate the end of Rusty Quill Gaming] note added 10am - incorrectly attributed, my deepest apologies to Straw and their team

24. Patreon retention stats, via Graphetron

25. Kickstarter use policy

26 The lack of disclosure on the initial posting of the Schottelkotte article.

27 Comparison of Fable and Folly's practices to Rusty Quill's.

28 Contact information for the writer and two editors given to current and ex Rusty Quill employees and network shows.

29 Patreon announcement of Cry Havoc! and Neon Inkwell postponement (I knew I had this lying around somewhere!)

30 Some additional information from Crunchy (thanks Crunchy!). sorry for the awful paint edit job (added 16/12/22 7pm)

#rusty quill #rusty quill drama #the magnus archives #rusty quill network #the magnus protocol #that's like just your opinion man

879 notes · View notes

ashensgrotto · 11 months

Text

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 3)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (You are Here) Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author's Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui 's annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don't write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will had links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree with anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

***

Play the song you sang long ago

And wherever the storm may blow

You will find the key to my heart

We'll never be apart

***

“...And how is everything going with our trio?” Mr. Crowley had called both Trein and Crewel into his office along with Grimsley for a meeting that night after the rest of the staff had left for the day.

“Absolutely swimmingly,” Professor Crewel answered with a psychotic grin on his face, “Only nearly got my head bitten off by two mers today, but other than that, we’re fine!”

“You weren’t even near the pool,” Professor Trein let out a sigh, rolling his eyes heavenward, before turning toward Mr. Crowely, “The subjects have allowed test number 03182020 to interact with them as well as talk with them. We know that both of the morays see 03182020 as a match, we are still waiting for the octopus to make the decision as well.”

“I heard about that attack,” Mr. Crowley leaned forward on his desk, elbows resting on the surface as his long fingers criss crossed each other, “and the morays’ first instinct was to protect, not only the octomer, but 03182020 as well?”

“Yes, sir,” Trein answered.

“Hmmm…” Crowley shifted, fiddling a contract in his hands before one nail tapped against the desk.

“Whacha thinking?” Grimsley asked, a dark brow raised in question.

“We don’t have much time left before the contract is up - I had sort of hoped it wouldn’t come to this, not yet at least,” Mr. Crowely stood from his desk, moving toward the window and looking out into the courtyard behind the office, “When was the last time they went into heat?”

“All three had experienced their urges around September last year,” Crewel answered, pressing his hands into his pockets, “Now, normally for moray eels, their mating season runs from July to September - and octopi fry are typically hatching at this point.”

“And if they are anything like their counterparts,” Trein mused, “The twins and the octomer will likely die following the mating process.”

“Hold on, these things die after mating?” Grimsley cocked a brow at the two of them.

“Unfortunately so,” Crewel answered with a nod, “Octopi will mate somewhere between November and early February - following that process, the female will eat the male before she goes into incubation. The few lucky males that are able to escape their mate’s hungry clutches eventually succumb to death a few months after the mating process - some male Giant Pacific octopi have also been known to get dementia before passing. As for the females, after they lay their clutch of eggs - which can be roughly around a hundred thousand, they starve themselves and sometimes tear themselves apart piece by piece. After the eggs hatch, she succumbs to death as well - leaving all of her fry to the current of the sea and one can only hope some of the eggs make it.”

“As for morays,” Trein answered, “depending on the type, males and females will travel to a particular spot and breed there, the males - exhausted from the travel and mating - pass away. The female will incubate her clutch - which is about ten thousand eggs - before laying them in the rocky beds among seaweed before passing away as well. If the water is warm enough, the eggs will only take about 30 to 45 days to hatch - sometimes sooner depending on the temperature of the water.”

“Sheesh, talk about a sexual turn off,” Grimsley crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, we don’t know if mers act in the same fashion,” Crewel answered, “I’m guessing that they follow some of the same mating habits as their counterparts, but not all of them.”

“And we won’t know anything unless we try something,” Crowley spoke, turning toward the duo, “We can't wait seven months, it's now or never. Speed the process up - add about three degrees to the pool each day and try to see how the mers’ attitudes change toward 03182020 in the coming weeks. I want to see some results before the end of next month.”

“Consider it done,” Crewel and Trein smiled as their hands rested over their hearts, a sign of their understanding.

"We've got one last shot - do not fail me."

***

Floyd and Jade greeted you in their usual fashion the following morning, with chirps, clicks, and echoes of ‘Hello’ and your name.

“Good morning,” you smile with a soft wave at the duo, “Are you guys hungry?”

“Hungry!” Floyd shouts, back flipping into the water to toss it in your direction before reappearing on the surface again.

You only snort, pulling the buckets from the freezer before strolling toward the edge of the pool, kneeling down to deposit the contents into the murky depths.

Before you can do so, however, both of the twins pounce. Jade had shifted so his upper body laid behind you on the edge of the pool, his long tail still draped into the water with your shoulders trapped between his webbed hands as his face buried itself into your hair, cool breaths tickling your nape; Floyd, on the other hand, had attached himself to your front - arms wrapped tightly around your waist with his head tucked under your chin as he rested against your chest. Soft clicks and coos came from both brothers as they twisted their bodies closer to yours, noses nuzzling your warm skin as the slippery film that coated their bodies clung to your skin and clothing.

“Safe?” Jade had asked after a moment, pulling away and looking directly at your face.

“Safe?” you ask, confusion slowly writing across your features.

“Shimpy safe, Jade,” Floyd grinned, sharp teeth on display.

“Wait a minute, who are you calling shrimpy?!”

The twins only clicked and chuckled before removing themselves from you, though each still clung onto each of your hands, sharp nails tracing the smooth skin of your wrists as the two brothers chattered with each other.

It was then that it dawned on you.

Following the arrival of Crewel after the first encounter with Azul the previous day, the twins had believed that you, maybe even Azul, were in danger - hence why Floyd had acted like a guard dog most of the day, even going so far as to refuse to return to the water. It had been yours and Jade’s gentle urging that allowed him to submerge under the water, allowing the gills behind his ears and on his sides to breath again; now, Jade - on the other hand - had paced the water, keeping one eye on the set of glass double doors and growling any time someone walked by it. When you set out to leave for the day, both of the twins had let out ferocious growls that you jumped in your skin - but seeing you frightened was the last thing they wanted. You had made it clear that you were going to be careful and that you would return in the morning like usual - the two could do so little as they watched you leave, worry filling their brown and gold gazes.

You shouldn’t have been surprised since the two were likely very apprehensive about you and maybe had been up all night, wondering if or when you would return - and when you did, they wanted to make sure that you were safe; no injuries or pain on your body from the other humans that had made appearances prior to your arrival.

You smiled and patted both of their heads, trying to show some reassurance, “Don’t worry, guys. I’m okay. I was just a little nervous from that incident yesterday.”

Jade growled while Floyd hissed in agreement.

“I swear I’m okay,” you sigh, dipping your hands into the water as you lay on your stomach before the duo, “I wasn’t attacked or anything, I don’t have any bruises or cuts - nothing worth reporting. So, please be a bit more gentle when the others come in. I know you guys like me and all, but you also have to work with them too - after all, they brought me here to look out for you and vice versa.”

The twins looked at each other before clicking in agreement, although Floyd looked dejected - likely hoping you’d allow him to do more than splash the intruders during your time together.

You could only chuckle before standing and taking the knocked over bucket of seafood and depositing it over the side, “I hope you guys are hungry. You look like you both deserve this one!”

***

The next two weeks pass by slowly as you continue your interactions with the duo - now turned trio.

Azul made his appearance again a day or two after the Crewel incident, but only stayed and watched your interactions with the twins for a few minutes before disappearing beneath the surface again. Every time you saw him, you waved at him - trying to reach a hand out to accept your presence into the group, especially since Crewel had interrupted that near precious moment between the two of you; Azul was always shocked to see you wave at him and slowly began copying the movement with the tips of his fingers peeking out from beneath the water. He began to grow bolder, appearing closer and closer to the pool’s edge with each passing day until by the end of the second week, he was greeting you with the twins as you walked in - clicks and coos higher pitched than the twins'.

“Hey guys!” You grin, setting your bag down and heading over to the freezer, “And I see Azul decided to join us this morning! Nice to see you again!”

Azul ducked his head down, but you had seen the blush slowly creep up his face - turning his face and ears a deep shade of blue.

You giggled, setting the buckets down before them. You had stopped dumping the contents into the water earlier last week, instead handing out the food to the hungry mers as a way to continue to build trust between the four of you. Azul was far too nervous to approach you at the time, so you had tossed what he was interested in eating towards him - allowing you to get a good glimpse at his tentacles for the first time. They were long and black with a purple underbelly and multiple suckers that appeared to be the size of quarters and half-dollar coins. Whenever you tossed something in his direction, one of his appendages would shoot out of the water like a snake launching at its prey. It was fascinating to watch the tentacle curl around the meal, nearly crushing it within its grasp - the dozens upon dozens of suckers clutching it tightly as if it was afraid to let go.

After giving the impatient twins their choice of meals, you smile at Azul, “What would you like? I still have some crab, shrimp, some fish, and a few snails left over…”

Azul looks into the bucket that is turned on its side before several tentacles reached forward and pulled several pieces of fish and crab from the container before dipping below the surface to eat.

You take the remaining contents and dump it over the side before standing to get your notes. You flip through the filled pages as you take a seat on the edge of the pool, your shoes discarded so you can soak your feet in the water. You absent-mindly begin to hum, your head swaying with the tune that had been trapped in your head for a few hours at least.

Something slimy touches your foot, causing you to jerk slightly before you realize Azul had attempted to touch you. He looked broken as he regarded you, moving a bit away from you.

“Hey, it’s ok,” you offer your hand out, palm upward, “you just startled me is all.”

A soft click comes from the octomer as he comes to your side again, slowly.

“There we go, I won’t hurt you.”

The scene plays itself out how it should have been the first day Azul approached you; his hand slips into yours, allowing you to feel the surprising smoothness of his skin. One tentacle slips around your ankle, squeezing slightly as his gaze remains on your smiling face. You recalled reading somewhere that octopi used their suckers to help them travel along the ocean floor, but they were also used to taste by touch. Azul was likely testing to see if you were good enough to eat - maybe.

"Am I tasty?" you joked, which earned you a disapproving grunt from the octomer.

You giggled and reached out with your other hand to touch the top of another tentacle that had made its way up the side of the pool. It felt like a soaked piece of gummy candy - slimy and smooth - before lifting the edge and admired the pale lavender-colored suckers, rubbing your thumb slowly around the inner edge. Azul squeaked slightly, the tentacle around your ankle squeezing tighter and causing you to wince.

"Hey, not so tight there," you pull your legs up from the water and away from Azul’s grasp.

The octomer whined, his hands reaching out and clutching the ankle that had been in his grasp. Your eyes widened at the sight of multiple little circles that surrounded your ankle - deep blue in color and slowly turning darker to a dark purple. Azul releases you and ducks down so you can only see the top of his head and his eyes as they shift nervously between you and the marks in your leg. You offer another smile and reach out, stroking the top of his head, offering words of kindness and support - letting him know you were okay and that it didn't bother you.

One finger traces the outline from one of his suckers - a strange feeling settling in your gut at the thought that this was more than just a mere marking.

***

As time goes on and you interact with Azul more and more, you realize that he was touch-starved to an unhealthy amount.

He enjoys wrapping his tentacles around your legs when you sit on the edge of the pool before him, his head on your lap while you hold your notebook above him and jot notes down about your experiences with the mers. Jade and Floyd often attempt to sneak in for what you've deemed as a "cuddle session" - but Azul often growls at them with a few clicks in their direction before his arms wrap around your waist tighter. The trio do switch things up eventually, with Jade and Floyd both curled protectively around your form as Azul keeps a set of eyes on the glass doors.

Whenever someone attempts to enter the enclosure, all three go into defensive mode - Azul now taking a stance in front - or rather, over - you as the twins shift to lean over the edge of the pool, all three growling frighteningly and baring teeth at the intruders. It was also during the last week you noticed how their touches would linger longer on your skin, Azul - on more than one occasion - wrapping his tentacles around both your ankles, wrists, and your waist multiple times, leaving marks that had many of your coworkers arching brows at you.

"Not that I mind the interactions between the four of you, puppy," Crewel comments when you meet up with him and Trein at the end of the second month, two notebooks resting before you on the desk as Trein goes over them, "but the results we've seen are… kind of startling."

"I've noticed the trio has been a bit more aggravated than usual, as well," you answer.

"How so?"

You press your lips together, trying to think of the best way to describe the events of the previous week.

It wasn't uncommon for the trio to touch you - especially Azul, who seemed to now dominate the spotlight - however, those touches that had shifted from curiosity to protectiveness had now shifted to what you thought was longing. The trio's eyes would watch you intently when you were away from the edge of the pool - either as you were entering, getting their food ready, or preparing to leave - their gaze not once shifting away from your form. As soon as you had taken a seat at the poolside, all three were upon you in the same fashion following the "Splashing Crewel" incident. The twins would pull themselves up to sit behind you, pulling you into their arms while each of them grasped one hand to keep you still, as Azul would launch to lay on top of you with his tentacles curling around your legs and thighs. They would coo and click softly at you, noses running along the column of your neck and into your hair. It would take hours just for them to let you go, even with your soft pleading - only releasing you when you mentioned food. You also notice how the trio enjoy hearing your humming - it may have been the reason why they nuzzle at your neck, wishing to hear your voice bring whatever tune you happened to be humming out of your mouth.

As you explained this, Crewel’s and Trein's expressions turned dark.

"That is… unsettling," Trein answered after a moment.

"Perhaps those puppies should be put in place," Crewel thought aloud, crossing his arms and tapping a finger against his bicep.

"Why are they acting this way is what I'm concerned about," you answered.

"We couldn't be sure," Trein explained, "Personally, we've never had a keeper get this close to them, never mind see them react in this fashion."

"I would venture a guess as to say they might see you as a member of their 'family' or 'school'," Crewel answered, "Given the circumstances of your arrangement, I wouldn't be surprised if the reason they cling to you is primarily due to their worry when you are away from them."

"That’s what I was thinking as well," you nod in agreement.

"And as for the humming," Trein spoke, "Sound travels faster in the water than it does on land. Legends of merfolk often indicate that they are attracted to music - though it's typically the mers that use it to lure in unsuspecting prey."

"Do you think they were interested in my humming because of their love for music?"

"Perhaps," Trein nodded in agreement.

"I also noticed when they are, well, clinging to me, they also seem… warmer than usual?" You ask, trying to think of the proper terms, "I also noticed the water seemed visibly warmer too. Do you think their change in behavior may have something to do with it?"

"We'll have one of our men check it out," Crewel nodded, "If someone messed with the thermostat, we'll know."

You nod and leave the office, the door closing behind you.

"Think she's onto us?" Trein asked

"Never trust anyone, Trein," Crewel pulled a cigarette out of its case, "even your own coworkers."

"I suppose with all of those hints we've dropped, if she hasn't figured out what our plan is yet she likely never will."

"The only thing we can do now is wait for the right time. Hopefully this will satisfy that crow's interest."

***

Unbeknownst to the world above, the waters of the enclosure shifted as the twin mers lounged about outside a built cave.

"Jaaade! I'm boooored!!" Floyd grumbled, shifting his body to drape over one of several rocks that lined the entrance to their dwelling, "I wanna play with Shrimpy!"

"In time, Floyd," His twin shifted, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the rocky walls, "Azul has to finish up the final piece. Besides, our little pearl isn't around right now to play with."

"This suuucks! Why couldn't we just pull her under when we had the chance?"

"She would never survive if we did that, Floyd. You know humans can't breathe underwater, nor swim like this. We need to bide our time, just a bit longer."

"Luckily we won't have to wait too much longer," Azul appeared in the entrance, his tentacles swaying with motion as he moved to greet his friends and fellow captives.

Both twins perked up, shark-like smiles appearing on their features.

"Did you make it?" Jade asked.

"It's almost complete, I just need scales from both of you," Azul answered.

"Sooo, what does our scales have to do with a mer potion?" Floyd asked.

“It will make our mate more compatible,” Azul answered, “In order for us to successfully, one, produce fry, and two, live with us, she needs to be our equivalent. A human mate isn’t a bad thing, we just need a bit more… well, given that those other two-legged monsters have been observing us for the past two years, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were planning on using her for something.”

“Hence we need to take precautions to make sure she’s safe and comfortable,” Jade followed through.

“Does that mean we can eat them?” Floyd asked.

“When the time is right, you’ll be able to squeeze those beasts who’ve harmed our mate to your heart’s desires,” Azul grinned, “Personally, I don’t think they would taste good, but if you want to eat them, by all means help yourself.”

Floyd grinned, all teeth and gums as he bounced giddily in the water.

“How long after the scales are added will we need to wait?” Jade asked, turning toward Azul.

“At least one week.”

“What’s the plan for our Shrimpy, then?”

Azul grinned, indicating for the twins to follow him into the lair, explaining things as they moved, “Our home here will only be temporarily. Once they realize their precious little angelfish is one of us, they will try every means to get her away from us to revert the process. When they make their move, we’ll be able to shift our focus to breaking out. I’ll need several things to create a temporary transformation potion that will allow one of us to move about the surface to transfer us back to the Coral Sea. And we’ll need to work fast - once (Y/N) lays those eggs, she’ll need to be protected and guarded at all times. I’d rather not have her lay them here - hence our haste to get her out of here.”

“And then the big family we’ve always dreamed of!”

“Indeed - so, two weeks?”

“Two weeks. When the moment is right, (Y/N) will be ours…”

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