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lewmagoo · 1 year

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i smile at the moon | rhett abbott

description: in which two wild souls become knit together as one

warnings: 18+ only, werewolves, violence, animals fighting, perry abbott slander, mentions of death, family drama, mentions of blood, smut, breeding kink, unprotected sex (basically a mating ritual lol), possessiveness, creampie, biting, scratching, all around animalistic themes

pairing: werewolf!rhett abott x f!werewolf!reader

notes: yeah so this started out as me wanting to write naughty werewolf smut and then it turned into a 10k+ word story complete with my own werewolf lore. thanks to @lovinglyeternal bc they basically created this monster by sending me a werewolf rhett concept. you are responsible for my insanity ;-)

He could smell you.

Each inhale of your scent was intoxicating. Stronger and sweeter than anything he’d ever smelled before. Citrusy, in a way. Warm and spicy like a hot cider.

All his life he’d been told that the scent of one’s mate was unique and indescribable. The most wonderful, appealing, all-consuming scent. Before he found you, he’d tried to imagine what it would smell like. His mama’s brown butter chocolate cookies, fresh out of the oven? Cotton candy, from the county fair? The comforting sweetness that hung in the air of his favorite childhood ice cream shop?

However, all of those scents paled in comparison to you. It hit him like a freight train the first time he met you. His knees went weak, his spine tingled as if he’d been struck by a bolt of white-hot lightning. It hit you just as hard, overwhelming your every sense. At that very moment, both of you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were made for each other. The Fates had brought you together and your bond would never be severed.

You would never forget that first meeting in the woods. You were part of a neighboring pack. New to the region, having recently migrated from your old home because tensions between your pack and a rival one had grown to concerning levels.

To avoid a full-blown war, your pack had moved out west, hoping to start fresh. And a fresh start was exactly what you found. But little did you know that it would also lead you to find the one you were destined for.

You met him the day his pack came to make a formal introduction and welcome you to the region. The Northeast Wyoming pack was comprised of the Abbott family descendants.

However, the pack was not as great as it had once been. What used to dominate the entire northeastern region of Wyoming had been reduced to a very small family of wolves. Royal, the alpha. His wife Cecelia. Their son, Perry; the eldest and next in line for alpha status, and their younger son, Rhett. Finally, there was Amy, Perry’s young daughter.

Rumor had it Perry once had a wife, but she’d ultimately left the pack and chosen to become an omega. Or, so you’d heard.

When you heard the pack was coming to welcome you to the area, you had no idea what to expect. These were potential allies, but if something went wrong, they could very quickly become your enemy. You hoped it wouldn’t come to that. You were tired of fighting and wanted nothing more than to finally enjoy a season of peace.

Little did you know that you were about to meet the one you would mate with for life.

They came at sunset, bearing gifts. Food for your table. Good bottles of wine. They even brought a few toys for some of the small children in your pack.

Cecelia did most of the talking. She was warm and friendly and gave you a hearty welcome, informing you that she was so happy to have new neighbors in the region, and was looking forward to rebuilding the community they’d lost over the years.

Silently, you wondered why their pack was so small. Yours had nearly twenty members. Theirs had five. Perry had a child, an heir, already. Which left Rhett, the only one who hadn’t furthered the bloodline yet.

Of the whole family, he was the last one to arrive that night. Royal made an offhanded comment about him always being late, and how he was just being lazy. The comment rubbed you the wrong way. Especially since Rhett wasn’t even there to defend himself. You didn’t even know the man, but you already felt a strange sense of protectiveness toward him.

Odd, you thought. But instead of dwelling on it, you simply turned and joined the rest of your pack, ready for the evening’s festivities to begin.

Rhett arrived a little while later. A rickety old GMC Sierra pulled into the gravel driveway, and it caught your attention. You glanced over to see a young man climbing out of the driver’s side. You couldn’t quite see his face yet, but you could tell he was handsome.

That’s when you caught it. The breeze blew in your direction, and a scent unlike anything you’d ever smelled before filled your entire being. Deep and musky, like pine and woodsmoke, yet sharp and fresh, like the air after a rainfall.

It pulled the deepest of gasps from you, and you dropped the stack of plates you’d been carrying out of the house for the outdoor supper. You vaguely heard your mother calling your name, asking what was wrong, but you hardly registered it. Without another thought, your legs were moving of their own accord, carrying you straight for the brunette-haired man walking up the lane.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a figure quickly approaching. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the scent. Sweet and spicy and delicious. He tensed, his eyes widening as his nostrils flared slightly. He’d never been hit with something so strong and irresistible. Suddenly his world was spinning off its axis as he realized what this meant.

His heart began to pound in his chest. His palms grew clammy. His knees went weak. And then, suddenly, you were in front of him, eyes glowing yellow, bright as the sun, and he thought he was going to suffocate right then and there as the breath left his lungs.

You weren’t sure who moved forward first. But all at once you were in each other’s space, like two lovers reunited after years apart.

Rhett leaned in and pressed his nose to the side of your neck, breathing in deeply. You buried your face against his chest and inhaled sharply. This was customary for wolves. Especially ones mated to each other, to greet one another by taking in the other’s scent.

When you parted, you realized that his eyes were glowing, too.

“It’s you,” he whispered, awestruck. His chest heaved. He could hardly take in oxygen.

You barely knew what to do with yourself. You were so overwhelmed that all you could do was stare at him, drinking him in. The one you had dreamed of since you were small. Your hands lifted of their own accord, and you ran them over his face. Down his neck. Across his chest. Feeling that he was in fact real and that this wasn’t a dream.

Then, when you found your voice, you breathlessly spoke. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”

Rhett finally found the breath he needed, and a disbelieving laugh brushed past his parted lips. He could hardly believe his eyes. Here you were, standing before him. The one he thought he’d never meet. He’d been certain that he was cursed to go through life without a mate. Yet here you were, standing in front of him, and an all-consuming sense of elation buzzed through him, like fizzy champagne in his veins.

You watched as he took a step back, his boots crunching against gravel as he threw his head back, face turned to the sky. He took a deep breath and let out a deep wolf howl, sounding through the wilderness. It echoed off the trees and it shook you to your core.

You couldn’t help the laughter that began to pour from your mouth. Laughter of disbelief. Laughter of joy. Laughter of love. “It’s you!” You repeated his own words from moments prior, still laughing, so happy you could barely contain it.

He looked back at you, his eyes, back to a thrilling and human blue, framed by smile lines as he grinned at you. His howl had alerted the rest of your pack, and his own, and moments later, they were all gathering in the clearing to see what was going on.

You grabbed Rhett’s hand, holding it up high as your fingers intertwined. “I’ve found him!” You cried. “I’ve found my mate!”

That night, what had started as a friendly dinner between new neighbors turned into a celebration that lasted well into the night. It was a joyous occasion, to find one’s mate, deserving of an extravagant celebration.

You swore you didn’t stop smiling for the entire night. The realization that in a moment of divine fate, you had met the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. Your soulmate. The half to your whole. Suddenly, all the strife that you’d gone to just to get to this point seemed all worth it. Because now, here was this beautiful man beside you, rugged but gentle, with kind eyes and a shy smile. And he was everything you’d dreamed he would be.

Your families gave you time alone that night, and you walked beneath the light of the half moon, side by side, straying away from all the activity to find a quiet spot.

You sat in a clearing in the woods and you talked for hours. You told Rhett all about your pack, and the unrest that had forced you to move all the way out here to Wyoming. You spoke of each pack member with such reverence and respect, and it sent a pang of envy through him.

He revealed to you that he did not have the most positive relationship with his family.

“We’ve, uh, we’ve been through some shit, the last few years. It’s put a strain on the pack. ‘specially my relationship with my brother.” He gazed out across the expanse of the woods, and in the silver light of the moon, you saw a sadness in his eyes. “His wife Rebecca left him and Amy. He didn’t take it very well.”

“That’s sad,” you whispered sympathetically. “Do you know why she left?”

Rhett’s eyes remained trained toward the distance, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed. “Don’t tell my folks I said this, but he ran ‘er off. I saw it comin’ from a mile away, but everybody else seemed blindsided when she wound up running for the hills.”

“Were they mates?” You questioned.

“Nah. Perry said they were, but they weren’t. He didn’t want to wait to find his mate. Went against pack customs just so he could have Rebecca for his own. She went along with it at first. Even had a baby with him. But when I tell you I ain’t never seen a more unhappy woman in my life. She was a nice gal but she was fuckin’ miserable with my brother. Eventually it got so bad that she up and left. Didn’t even take Amy with her, that’s how bad things were,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at the thought. You’d always been told that the bond between mama wolves and their pups was unmatched, running deeper than even the lowest depth of the sea. For one to just up and leave her baby was unheard of. It made you shudder to think just how terrible things must have been to push Rebecca away like that.

You shook your head. “Poor Amy.”

Rhett hummed in agreement. “Her mama’s been gone a year now. She’s adapted okay, but she seems kinda lonely. Kids at school can’t relate to her because they ain’t wolves like she is.”

“I guess it really was fate that brought us here then, huh? All my little cousins will befriend her, she won’t have to worry about feeling as alone anymore.”

He smiled softly, glancing at you. “Sure am thankful to that Fate fella. I’ll have to thank him if I ever meet him face to face. Thank him for bringin’ you to me.”

It was your turn to smile, and you turned your face away, hiding the shy glimmer that lit up your eyes. But Rhett reached out, hooking his fingers under your chin and turning your face back toward him. “I know we’ve got some more formalities to go through before we’re joined together, but I want you to know that right here, right now, I’m pledgin’ myself to you and only you for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply again, letting his intoxicating scent wash over you once more. “And I pledge myself to you,” you replied.

Your gaze remained fixed on his own, and his hand shifted, moving to cup your cheek. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your own eyes, as if asking permission. You gave the tiniest of nods, and he leaned in, so close you could almost taste him.

Until, suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded through the woods. You broke apart abruptly, and Rhett sighed, rising to his feet. “That would be my mama.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Guess we should head back then.”

And so you did, walking hand in hand back to the house. You knew from that moment on that everything was about the change. You would soon begin the ritual of preparing for your wedding, a formality in which your packs would be joined together through your matrimony. Everything you had been dreaming of for your entire life was finally coming true, and it all felt so close, yet so far.

That night, after you bid goodnight to Rhett, you went to bed with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart. You fell asleep dreaming of the life you would lead together. A future that held many unspoken promises. A home of your own. A growing family that would carry on your bloodline, one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed upon a wolf.

In the following weeks, much preparation was made. You began the process of getting to know Rhett, spending many nights going on walks, learning the inner workings of one another. And then came the week just before your wedding. A night on which the moon hung low and full-bellied in the sky. The night you shifted beneath the glow of that very moon, sharing the very special and intimate moment of transforming into your wolves.

Rhett’s wolf was deep brown, almost black, with the softest fur you’d ever felt. He was breathtaking, and as you shifted into your own wolf, you found yourself nuzzling into him, letting him know you were there, that you were with him until death did you part.

And then, finally, your wedding day arrived. It was a beautifully warm day. The sun filtered through the trees and cast dapples of light all over, like rays of magic falling from the sky. You’d kept things simple, as wolf weddings normally were. A crown of flowers placed delicately upon your head. A simple, flowing dress. Bare feet so you could feel the forest floor beneath you.

You stood before Rhett, underneath the swaying leaves of a century-old weeping willow, where you spoke your vows to one another, and joined yourselves, and your packs, as one.

As you pledged yourself to your mate, you wept tears of joy, and when he kissed you, so tenderly and reverently, you held onto him tightly, as if he might disappear if you let go. Now that you’d found him, you never wanted to let him go.

“I’m yours,” he whispered against your mouth.

“Forever,” you echoed.

The celebration that followed was grand. Music and dancing, old folk tales told around a bonfire whose flames seemed to touch the very sky. It was the most wonderful night of your life, and nothing could steal your immense joy away.

And so, your life together began. Your union brought your families together, and gave the Abbotts a sense of community that they had not previously had. Just as you’d hoped, Amy made friends with the young ones in your pack. Your parents developed a strong connection with Royal and Cecelia. The rest of your family was warm and welcoming.

As you became integrated with the Abbotts, you made the decision to live on their property. Before you’d even met, Rhett had been in the process of converting the old barn loft into an apartment. It soon became a project that you worked to complete together. A home built with love, filled with love.

Through that process, while you waited for the apartment to become livable, you took up residence in Rhett’s childhood bedroom. It was small, but it was comfortable, and it smelled like him, your favorite scent in the whole wide world, so you were content.

Living in the house allowed you to grow closer to his mother, and especially to his niece Amy. Your heart ached for the little girl and all that she had been through. You longed to be a comfort to her if she needed it. And much to your utter joy, she took well to you.

“I’m happy you’re mated to Uncle Rhett,” she told you in earnest. “I’ve never seen him smile so much before. I can tell he really loves you.”

Her words made your heart warm in your chest. “I’m happy, too,” you replied.

The girl’s face fell a little as she looked down at the napkins she was folding for the dinner table. “I wish my mama and daddy had looked at each other like that.”

And in an instant, your heart was breaking in your chest.

The absence of Rebecca Abbott weighed heavily on the entire family. Cecelia still held out hope that she would return. Royal liked to claim that she’d gone and “shacked up with a good-for-nothin’ lowlife.” Perry liked to insist she was going to come back any day and beg for his forgiveness.

Rhett believed otherwise. “I don’t think she’d ever come back here in a million years. Either she found another pack, or she’s out there still runnin’ around as an omega,” he told you.

Rhett’s belief that she wasn’t coming back, and Perry’s insistence that she was, often caused tension between the brothers. They both tried to remain civil for Amy’s sake, but it seemed that Perry was only growing more restless as time went on.

He would get especially agitated just before the full moon. Which was natural for any wolf, but with him, it seemed to increase tenfold. And when his anger and bitterness reached its breaking point, he would take it out on whoever was in his path. Usually, it was Rhett.

You would never forget the first time you witnessed him blow up at your husband in front of you. There was one thing you were certain of in that very moment: it was going to be the last time he ever did it.

A perfectly quiet family dinner in the Abbott kitchen was disrupted when the conversation turned to Rebecca. It was Perry who brought her up, claiming that he was certain she would return soon, that he could feel it.

It was very common for wolves to be able to feel when their mate was near. You always felt Rhett’s presence when you were apart, and it was that much stronger when you were together.

However, you and Rhett both knew what utter bullshit it was for Perry to claim he could feel her when they weren’t even mates to begin with. And his comment pushed Rhett to react.

“Quit sayin’ she’s gonna come back. You and I both know she won’t ever come back here again, Per.” The moment he said it, Rhett wished he could take the words back. Not because of his brother, but because of Amy.

Her wide eyes flickered up from the plate that she’d been staring at. But instead of looking at Rhett, she looked at her father.

“Is that true, Dad?” She asked, her voice small.

Perry clenched his jaw as he glared at his brother. “Now look what you did. Got my daughter all upset.”

Rhett sighed. The child needed to hear the truth. “Look, Ames. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Your mama isn’t coming back.”

Without so much as a warning, Perry shoved his plate away, which bumped his glass of water and sent it spilling across the table. You tensed beside Rhett, afraid of what was coming.

“Perry!” Cecelia exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at her son’s outburst.

He stood up from his chair, its wooden legs scraping against the linoleum. “What’d I fuckin’ tell you, Rhett? You’re really gonna upset a little girl like that and rip away the last shred of hope she had left?”

Rhett sighed deeply, shaking his head. “It’s better than you lyin’ to her about it.”

“Fuck you!” He shouted. “Ever since you brought this bitch into our home you’ve been subscribing to her fuckin’ ideals.” He motioned toward you. “She probably put you up to this, didn’t she? Told you to destroy what hope my daughter had left.”

At the derogatory comment directed at you, Rhett shot out of his seat, quick as lightning, his eyes glowing. You followed suit, immediately on the defensive.

“Alright, enough!” Royal barked. But even his authoritative tone didn’t get the attention of his boys.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that!”

“It’s true! She’s fuckin’ changed you, man. Turned you into someone I don’t even recognize.”

“Yeah, she changed me! Into a better man! Which is more than I can say Rebecca ever did for you! Oh wait, that’s because she wasn’t even your mate to begin with!”

“Stop!” Amy cried, already in tears. “Just stop!”

But it was too late. Perry had been pushed over the edge, and before anyone could even register what was happening, he was lunging. Cecelia tried to grab him, but he was too quick, and in seconds, he was crowding Rhett’s space.

But he didn’t get very far. Much to your own surprise, you moved faster than you ever had in your life, placing yourself in front of your husband. Your body burned with the overwhelming desire to protect. Your eyes flashed yellow, and you bared your fangs, growling lowly.

“Touch him and I’ll drop you right where you stand,” you snarled.

Perry growled right back at you, his eyes going bright yellow to match your own. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he made another move toward Rhett, you would go for his throat.

“Dad, stop,” Amy spoke up. She got up from the table and ran to stand between you both. She let out a little growl of her own, entirely non-threatening, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to see her family fighting. “Please. Everyone just stop! I don’t want you to fight!”

“Listen to your daughter, Perry,” you spoke out. You could feel Rhett against your back, ready to act if need be.

A beat passed. You held Perry’s gaze, unwilling to back down. Another beat. Then, finally, he surrendered, stepping back. He knew it wasn’t worth it. It was suicide to go up against another wolf’s mate. When it came to protecting what was yours you would fight to the death. Perry seemed to know he wouldn’t stand a chance.

He had no idea what it was like. He’d never experienced that deep, primal, territorial need to protect. Not with Rebecca. He had it with Amy, but that was different. She was his child, it was natural to protect her. But he had no idea how deep the bonds of two truly mated wolves went. He couldn’t bond with Rebecca in that way because she’d never been his to begin with.

Rather than fight a losing fight, Perry stalked away that night, leaving the rest of you in the kitchen to process what had just happened. And Amy, who remained in front of you until her father disappeared from the room, finally turned, and rushed into your arms.

Your heart broke as she began to cry. “I’m sorry!” She whimpered, apologizing for her father’s behavior.

It only made you angry, because it wasn’t fair that this 9-year-old little one had to apologize for him. You hated all she had been subjected to in her young age. And that was the moment you pledged to always look out for her. If her mama wasn’t going to do it, then you would. And you would do a damn good job of it, too.

After that night, Perry steered clear of you. He seemed to realize that if he were to ever challenge you, you would kill him. No hesitation. He didn’t stand a chance. Rhett knew that you had his back, and you would always stand by him, even when faced with adversity brought upon him by his own family.

That protectiveness was a two-way street. Rhett looked out for you just as fiercely as you did him. And while you were busy defending him against his brother, he was going to bat for you against other things. You would never forget the first time you saw him physically defend you. It was seared into your mind like a brand.

You were out on a hike with Amy. It was blackberry season, and she was desperate to pick them while they were perfectly ripe. Her grandmother was too busy with other gardening endeavors to go out into the woods to help her pick wild ones, so you offered to go instead.

Before the heat of the day grew too overwhelming, the two of you set off, with you leaving a kiss against Rhett’s lips and a promise that you’d be back in time to join him for lunch later that day. Amy was so excited, babbling excitedly the entire hike up into the woods.

She was fascinated by all things nature, and she knew the area like the back of her hand, so she was well aware of where the very best berries grew. She led you deeper and deeper into the woods until you came upon an entire gathering of sprawling blackberry bushes, ripe for the picking.

“See? I told ya!” She excitedly said, running on ahead of you, her tin bucket swinging in her hands.

You couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness, quickening your steps so you could catch up with her. What followed was an hour-long blackberry picking process, and after the fact, that bucket was full to the brim with ripe, juicy berries.

“Grandma’s gonna be so happy! She can make her blackberry preserves! And blackberry pie! And blackberry syrup for pancakes!” She spoke a mile a minute, informing you of all the ways the berries could be used, and how she couldn’t wait for you to try them all.

However, you found yourself growing distracted when the wind carried a strange scent in your direction. You paused, lifting your head and breathing in deep. Something didn’t feel right. Amy noticed this, and she eyed you curiously.

“What’s wrong?”

“I smell something,” you replied. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end.

Amy turned, sniffing at the air. Then, suddenly, she gasped. “Cougar,” she said.

You glanced around. You couldn’t see it, but you could tell the animal was close. You’d never had an encounter with a cougar. While you knew you could hold your own against an animal like that, having Amy in tow only made you nervous that the cougar would try to harm her. Surely it would be able to sense that you were wolves and not normal human beings. But maybe that would only make things worse.

You wrapped your arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Let’s just go. Maybe it’ll leave us alone.”

But no sooner had you spoken than you heard a bone-chilling growl, and you turned, catching sight of a large cat just ahead of you. Your blood turned to ice in your veins, and on instinct, you pushed Amy behind you, keeping a hand on her as you slowly backed away.

You locked eyes with the cougar, flashing your golden irises, hoping that would be a deterrent. However, the cat only bared its fangs and crouched back on its haunches. Your heart began to hammer in your chest. There was no time to hesitate.

“The second he jumps, I want you to run,” you told Amy.

“But I don’t wanna leave you!” She exclaimed, trembling with fear.

“You can’t shift yet. You’re safer running than you are staying here with me,” you emphasized. Amy was just a baby, her wolf hadn’t even made its appearance yet, and even if it had, it would only be a pup. Not strong enough to fight a fully grown cougar.

“But-” she never had a chance to finish the sentence, because in a flash, the cat was lunging at you. Amy let out a shrill scream that carried through the trees.

On the Abbott ranch, Rhett’s head snapped up when he heard the scream. He had been hard at work trying to finish up the project of converting the old barn, but at the sound of his niece’s shriek, he dropped the tools he was holding.

A shock of what felt like electricity rippled through him, and he grunted, realizing that you were in danger. Without a moment’s hesitation, he was running, hyper-focused on the area that the sound had come from. As he ran, his body shifted and transformed, until, moments later, he was no longer a man, but a sleek, black wolf, running fast as the wind.

In the woods, you were preparing to fight for your life. You physically tossed Amy out of the way so that when the cat landed, it would hit you instead of her. You didn’t even have time to shift into your wolf. Or, rather, white-hot terror blossomed within you when you realized you couldn’t shift.

Your fangs had elongated and your claws had come out, but your body remained in its human form. And when you realized this, it was too late. 200 pounds of muscle crashed into your chest, sending you back toward the forest floor.

You screamed, growling as threateningly as possible, but it didn’t seem to do much to scare the animal. You thought for certain that this was it, that you were going to die right then and there. But then, in a flash of black fur glinting in the sunlight, an earth-rattling roar ripped through the air, and in a split second, the cat was no longer on top of you.

Gasping sharply, you sat up, eyes wild as you took in the sight before you. There was Rhett in his wolf form, and he had the cougar by the neck. Beside you, Amy let out a sob as she scrambled toward you. You grabbed her, wrapping your arms protectively around her, turning her face away so she wouldn’t have to watch.

The cat snarled and hissed, clawing at Rhett’s wolf, and it caught him on the side, at which he let out an agonized yelp that made you flinch. But he quickly regained dominance and in seconds, the cat let out an inhuman screech and quickly scrambled away from the wolf, turning to hiss once more before running off, wounded, into the woods, clearly realizing it was not going to win this fight.

Rhett followed after it to make sure it was long gone. In the meantime, Amy was crying against your chest. “Is it gone?!” She whimpered.

You ran your fingers through her honey-colored hair, soothing her softly, even as your own body still trembled with fear. “Yes, baby. It’s gone.”

She sat upright, glancing around. “Where’s Uncle Rhett?!” Her voice was panicked, terrified.

But you didn’t have to reassure her, for seconds later, the wolf returned. Amy scrambled to her feet and ran to him, falling to her knees as she threw her arms around his neck. The wolf whined lowly as he nuzzled against the girl, sniffing at her to make sure she was unharmed.

As you approached, he locked eyes with you, and you knelt beside Amy, reaching out to run your hand over his fur. You could tell he was hurt. The slash in his side from the cougar’s claws was bleeding crimson. But he wouldn’t rest until he saw you both to safety.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and he rested his head upon your shoulder before he finally pulled away. He pointed his head toward the trail home, wanting you to follow, and so you did. Amy gathered up her half-spilled bucket of berries, grabbed onto your hand, and followed Rhett’s wolf out of the woods and back toward the house.

It was only after he made sure that you and Amy were safely returned home that he allowed himself to shift back to his human form. As Cecelia fussed over Amy, Rhett trotted after you into his bedroom upstairs, and as soon as the door was shut, his fur faded away, giving way to pale, smooth skin. Within moments, there was your husband kneeling bare before you, all signs of his animal form gone.

“Baby,” you breathed, falling to your knees in front of him, reaching your hands up to hold his face. “You’re hurt.” The claw marks along his ribs looked even worse in his human form.

He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll heal,” he replied. Then it was his turn to check you over for any harm. “Did that son’bitch hurt you?”

“I…I don’t think so. Just scared me, is all. I couldn’t shift, and by the time I realized that, it was on top of me.”

Rhett’s brow furrowed as he frowned, large hands coming up to rest against either side of your neck. “It’s ‘cause you were scared,” he whispered. “It’s happened to me before. I froze up, got so fuckin’ into my head that my wolf didn’t wanna come out.”

“Really?” You asked, a little relieved that you weren’t alone.

“Yeah. She’ll come out again, don’t you worry.”

You hummed in understanding, happy that Rhett knew exactly what you were dealing with, and that it was nothing to worry about. Then, the time for realization kicked in. The realization that it all could have been so much worse, and you were lucky that Rhett stepped in when he did.

“Thank you,” you whispered, after you’d both finally stood, allowing Rhett to gather a clean set of clothes. “I feel so fucking useless, not being able to protect Amy the way I needed to. I hate that I froze up. I’m just so relieved you heard us and got to us in time.”

Rhett shook his head, stepping toward you as he finished pulling on his jeans. String fingers tilted your chin up. “You did your best in a fuckin’ scary situation. Hell, you were ready to sacrifice yourself so Amy would be safe. That’s not you bein’ useless. You protected her just like any mama wolf would protect her pup.”

His words brought unexpected tears to your eyes. When he saw them glimmering along your lash line, he smiled softly, thumb stroking over your cheek. “You did good, little wolf.”

The nickname, which he’d dubbed you after the first few weeks of knowing you, made you smile, despite the tears running down your cheeks.

After that encounter, it seemed that your bond only deepened. You grew even closer than before, your hearts knit together by an unbreakable invisible force. And as your love blossomed and flourished, you crossed the threshold of new milestones together.

One of those milestones was finally moving into the old barn that you’d been renovating together. It had gone from a barebones wooden shell to a cozy home with room for your family to grow. It allowed you to still remain near the rest of your combined pack, but also gave you a haven of privacy. Gone were the days of sharing his childhood bedroom and trying to stay quiet while in a house full of wolves with keen hearing. Now you had your own space to do whatever you pleased together.

Although moving into your own space was a very big milestone for you, it was nothing compared to what was coming your way.

There was a very special and celebrated time that took place between werewolf couples. Much like regular wolves, werewolves had a mating season. The first season shared between mates was pivotal in their relationship.

You and Rhett had yet to experience that season yet. On your own, you had endured heats before. It was only a natural occurrence. But you had heard that the heat you experienced on your own was nothing compared to that first one you would experience with your mate.

Secretly, in your own mind, you had fantasized about what it might be like. You were already insatiable enough as it was during heat. The thought of it being increased tenfold was unimaginable for you.

You knew the pattern of your cycle. It was easy to follow. You would enter into heat twice a year. Once in the springtime, and once in autumn. Each time it would last around 7 to 14 days.

Your marriage to Rhett took place in early summertime. Which meant, along with the changing of leaves and the cooling of the air, you would soon be entering into that heat stage. You knew it was coming. It was marked in red on your calendar.

You were nervous, to say the least. While you were eager to experience it with him, it was all so new. Sex was not a foreign concept between the two of you. You’d had it plenty of times since your marriage. But this was different. This was a primal, instinctual ritual. One that could potentially result in your bloodline being continued.

You were entirely unprepared for just how intense it would be. As the season turned, your body prepared itself for another cycle. It started subtly at first, but soon grew into so much more.

Possessiveness and protectiveness over your mate was the first thing you noticed, increased even more so than usual. That possessive streak reared its ugly head when an unsuspecting human girl tried to flirt with Rhett. You found yourself pulling him against your side and quite literally growling at her. It was not your proudest moment, but you could not control the wolf inside you. She did what she wanted.

The protectiveness came when anyone disrespected him. It didn’t matter who. Although Perry generally tried to steer clear of running his mouth at Rhett in your presence, there were times when he slipped up. And this time around, you found yourself with your claws at his throat when he made a comment under his breath.

“Say it again,” you hissed, baring your sharp canines. “Go on, say it!”

It took both Rhett and Royal to pull you off of him. That instance, however, you were not sorry for. You would never be ashamed of defending your husband.

Soon, the irritability and possessiveness melted away into something else. Your every sense was heightened. Your already keen wolf senses were increased to the point where you could hardly even bear it.

And then came the desire.

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for how all-consuming it would be. It hit you like a freight train, slamming into your body and sending you into orbit. It started as a dull ache that very quickly began to spread throughout your body.

The first day you woke up with it, you were animalistic. It drove you out of your slumber and sent you shooting upright in bed, growling as you pressed your hands against your lower abdomen, where the ache had settled.

Much to your utter dismay, Rhett was not in bed beside you. He was more than aware about your approaching heat, and he tried to spend as much time with you as he could. But that morning, his father had called him out of bed at an ungodly hour to handle an issue with an injured calf. That took him away from you, and when you discovered he was gone, you let out a pained yowl, curling into a ball.

“Rhett!” You desperately cried out, hoping he was still nearby. But you were met with no answer.

Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, and you gasped sharply, placing a hand over your mouth when you realized that your need had soaked straight through the panties you’d worn to bed. They weren’t just damp. They were drenched.

When you stood, your knees almost buckled, and your hand shot out to steady yourself against the bedpost. “Holy fuck,” you whimpered. You had never in your life felt such a sensation.

It was an ache so strong that there were no words to describe it. An agony that was not quite painful, but maddening nonetheless. And there was only one way to soothe it. Rhett was the only one capable of easing the burning fire. The only one who could act as a soothing salve. But he was nowhere to be found.

How could he just leave? In your agitated state it only served to upset you all the more. He knew you were coming up on your heat. He knew you needed him. How could he leave you all alone to deal with it?

Of course, he hadn’t done it on purpose. That morning when he’d woken before the sun, he could smell you. Your scent had increased, its spicy sweetness making his head spin. But he knew how Royal would get if he refused to help his father with the issue at hand, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the man’s contrariness.

Leaving you in bed that morning had been incredibly difficult. But he left with the hope that this project wouldn’t take long, and he’d be back with you before you ever woke up.

But that was four hours ago, and he was still dealing with an injured calf, a distressed mama cow, and one irritated Royal Abbott. The situation had given Rhett a distraction, but back at home, you had none.

You swiped your phone off of your nightstand with the intent of calling him to see where he was. However, when you dialed, you were alerted to the sound of ringing coming from his own nightstand. He’d left his phone at home.

You growled in frustration, tossing your phone onto the bed, just as another surge of molten need vibrated through you, sending you to your knees. Your body trembled, and the intensity was so great that you could feel yourself beginning to shift.

Your claws lengthened from your fingers, ripping shreds into the side of the duvet as you held onto the mattress for support. You felt out of control, and it was a scary feeling. You hadn’t felt this way since your first full moon, and even that wasn’t comparable to how intense it was now.

The full moon didn’t leave an agonizing ache in your cunt like this. No, this was solely the result of your body’s natural drive to mate. But how on earth were you meant to do that if the one you were mated to wasn’t even here?

Tears welled in your eyes, and you forced yourself to rage deep, ragged breaths. Maybe if you could just get to the bathroom, you could put yourself under a cold shower and hopefully snap yourself out of this feverish state.

You stood on unsteady legs and stumbled toward the steps, which you rushed down until you made it to the main floor area below the loft. You burst into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower to a cold spray, stripping out of your shirt and panties and jumping in.

You hissed as the chilly water enveloped you, cascading down your heated skin. It provided a small amount of relief, but it didn’t take the discomfort away completely.

You knew that you couldn’t relieve the ache yourself, but that didn’t stop you from trying. You reached a trembling hand between your thighs, running your fingers over your center, your legs nearly giving out as you brushed against your swollen, thrumming clit.

You let out a sharp whimper and jolted forward. You tried to soothe your need to be filled by using your fingers, but they were nothing compared to Rhett. His fingers, his cock. They didn’t reach that spot inside you that made you see stars. You were left feeling unsatisfied and even needier than before.

In frustration, you leaned back against the shower walls squeezing your eyes shut and trying to steady your breathing. You imagined this was how wolves felt in the wild. You hardly felt like you could exercise your human control anymore. You’d heard of werewolves shifting permanently into their wolf bodies and giving in to their wild nature. It didn’t seem that far-fetched that it could happen to you.

In the midst of your plight, Rhett had just looked at the sky and realized that the sun’s placement must mean it was nearly 10 o’clock in the morning. His eyes widened. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since he’d left early that morning, but it had been almost five hours. He knew you were awake by now, and probably desperate as all get out.

He patted his jeans for his phone, but found his pockets empty. And then he remembered, he’d accidentally left it behind that morning. “Shit,” he cursed. He snatched up his Carhartt jacket that he had draped over one of the stall doors. “Dad, I gotta go,” he called out to his father.

“Hang on,” Royal replied, but Rhett shook his head, already halfway out the barn door.

“M’ wife needs me, I gotta get back. Ask Per for help if you need it.” And then he was gone, scrambling out into the cool October morning. His mind was spinning as he pictured you home alone. You were likely at your wit's end.

Sure enough, when he finally made it to the house, it was your scent that nearly knocked him flat on his ass as he walked through the door. He grunted as if he’d been kicked in the gut, stumbling back against the wooden door.

His every sense was overwhelmed by you. Deep, spicy, sweet. Irresistible and divine, all at once. His heart rate began to quicken in his chest, and he gasped as he straightened, hastily kicking his boots off by the door. “Little wolf?!” He called out.

At the sound of his voice, a sob of relief tore from you. You had just climbed out of your cold shower, towel wrapped around your body. “Rhett!” You wailed, your voice coming out as a desperate, animalistic yowl.

He knew exactly where you were, he could hear the pounding of your heart, the shallowness of your breath. He was drawn straight to you like a moth to flame, and within seconds, he was at the bathroom door, just as you flung it open.

“Rhett!” You wailed again, throwing yourself into his arms as sobs wracked your body. “Wh-where were yo-you?! I needed you and you were gone! Why did you leave me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby. Dad needed help and I didn’t think I’d be gone that long, but that was five fuckin’ hours ago. I’m sorry.”

You clutched at his shirt, and he gasped when he heard a rip, only to find that your claws had torn through the fabric of his flannel. “Shit, okay, hold on,” he told you, pulling you back to look fully into your face. Your skin was damp, but it wasn’t from the shower you’d just taken. You were sweaty but also hot to the touch, as if you had a high fever.

Your eyes were glowing gold, and through your parted lips he could see your fangs. And oh, how you trembled. So much so that he had to hold you steady so you didn’t fall. “Please,” you whimpered, “it hurts so bad, please, I-I can’t take it anymore! I feel like I’m on fucking fire!”

Rhett was overwhelmed. You smelled so good, like the natural scent that had drawn him to you when you first became mates. But there was something else, something that could only be described as sex. It felt like it was altering his very brain chemistry.

Then he growled, deep and low in his throat, and pressed his nose to your neck, breathing in deep before he began trailing lower, in search of the source. He ripped your towel away from your body and nuzzled at you until he finally stopped between your thighs, pressing his nose against your cunt and inhaling.

You gazed down at him, and his own eyes flashed yellow to match yours. Possessively, he nipped at your inner thigh. “I’m here now, little wolf,” he assured you, “I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” you sobbed, “I can’t…I don’t know if I can…” but the words died in your throat.

He straightened back up, leaning in to kiss you deeply as he quickly shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it aside before you reached for his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but quickly growing tearful and frustrated. He shushed you with another kiss and unbuckled the belt himself, shoving his jeans and underwear down his legs all at once, freeing his already hardening cock.

As soon as you saw it, you mewled, dropping to your knees and rubbing your face against the velvety skin. Rhett grunted, his head spinning at the sight of you nuzzling your cheek against his dick. You were so far gone, and it was dizzying to him.

“Need it so bad,” you whined, kitten licking the tip as the shaft hardened. “Need it so deep inside me.”

“I’m gonna give it to you, promise,” he rasped. Then he hauled you to your feet, with the intention of pulling you up to your bedroom in the loft, but you never made it. You couldn’t wait another second, and in a flurry of desperation, you grabbed onto him, tugging him hard and sending you both to the floor.

He landed on his back as you climbed on top of him, but in true wolf fashion, he snarled, wrestling you until you were the one lying on your back on the floor. In this way, he showed his dominance over you, securing his right to be your mate.

“Gettin’ big for your britches, little wolf,” he muttered as he ran his nose over your flesh, inhaling you. You had very quickly turned to putty in his hands, especially when you felt his cock against your inner thigh.

“Need it! I need it, please! Please, please, please!” You wept, entirely forgetting your little fight for dominance that had taken place moments earlier. The ache between your legs had increased all the more. A throbbing, burning, crushing ache that made you feel like you were suffocating, as if you’d die if you didn’t become one with him in the next few seconds.

Rhett looked down and he saw why you were so desperate. Your cunt was puffy, and with the sunlight that was streaming in through the windows, he could see how wet it was. You’d only been on the floor for a few moments but your arousal had already dripped down onto the hardwood. “Oh my god,” he whispered in amazement.

He couldn’t contain himself if he tried. He placed his hands on the floor, at either side of your head, and nudged his hips forward. When you felt the blunt head of his cock against you, you whimpered. It burned, it burned, it burned. Until, suddenly…

“Oh!” He was inside you in one fluid motion. Every last inch of him, filling you to the brim, fitting inside you like he was created to. Because he was. You were two unique souls made perfectly for each other.

“I’ve got ya, sweet baby. I’ve got ya,” he assured you as you whimpered and whined at the fullness.

And suddenly, all at once, that terrible, gnawing ache began to fade. It felt like a healing salve to a grave wound. You gasped, your eyes widening as you gazed up at your husband. “Rhett,” you squeaked.

“I know.”

Tears filled your eyes as you finally felt relief for the first time that day. Those same tears began to track down the sides of your face, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless sob. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and clung to him as he began to slowly move.

With each push and pull of his cock within you, your body reacted accordingly, providing you with even more lubricant until he was moaning, gasping at the feeling. “Shit, darlin’, you’re dribblin’ all over me.”

“S-sorry,” you peeped, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ca-can’t help it. Feels too good. Feels…oh, feels so fucking…good…”

You threw your head back as he built a rhythm, slow at first, but the pace soon quickened. Back and forth, faster and faster, until it could only be described as rutting. You felt so fucking full, and he kept you that way, barely pulling his hips back, instead fucking you in a pulsing motion. It was too much and not enough. You started to grow desperate again. The ache was gone, but it had been replaced with molten heat, as if your insides were melting.

“Harder, harder, harder!” You cried out.

He obliged, grunting laboriously as he drove into you harder. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunged his cock into you repeatedly. The sounds escaping both of you were animalistic. Growls and snarls and hisses, the wild animals caged within you trying to claw their way to the surface.

He was so deep inside you, every ridge and vein of his cock creating such divine friction within you that it felt like you were being burned alive in the most wonderful, indescribable way.

Your claws dug into the tender flesh of his back, and he gnarled, snapping his teeth at you, but not in a threatening way. He nuzzled into your neck, the sharp tips of those fangs pressing against your pulse point, and you whined, leaning into the pleasurable pain.

His teeth drew blood, and as soon as the crimson blossomed against your skin, he used his tongue to soothe over it, licking up your lifeblood. The bite mark healed quickly, as injuries normally did, but you could still feel the sting even after it was gone.

And then, something else happened. It was common for werewolves to shift partially, where their eyes, fangs, and claws became visible. But it was also common for them to grow a little in stature, too.

You could feel it. His muscles rippled beneath your touch, expanding. His shoulders grew broader. And something else, grew, too. When you felt it, you let out a wolfish yip, jolting against him as his cock swelled within your cunt.

“R-Rhett,” you squeaked, and he shushed you, kissing you languidly.

“You’re okay, little wolf. Feels good, don’t it?”

You managed to nod despite yourself. Your tears kept falling and they wouldn’t stop. But they weren’t tears of pain. Quite the contrary. It didn’t matter that he was growing inside you. Your body was designed to accommodate it. The feeling was incredibly pleasurable, and it sent an intense shudder through your body.

You screwed your eyes shut and mewled as he kept rutting into you, stretching you, filling you, completing you. This felt right. This felt good. This felt like the most natural thing in the world. And it was. Your bodies were joined as one. One force, one soul, one heart.

“You feel so good,” you repeated yourself, unashamed of the tears still streaming down your cheeks. “So good, so good, so good.”

His hips quickened within you. His hands remained at either side of your head, and you could hear his claws gouging into the hardwood. He’d be pissed about that mark later, but right now, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Nothing else mattered but this. Fulfilling this natural, primal, raw desire to claim, and be claimed.

The intensity mounted, like a kettle beginning to boil. You held onto him so tightly, encouraging him to go deeper, faster, harder. And he did, until it felt like he was fucking you into the floor.

He leaned back to watch you, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in your head, the way you shuddered so powerfully, as if you’d just been struck with a bolt of lightning. It felt like you had, because each nudge of his cock in your slick walls sent sparks surging through your core.

His eyes flickered further down, to the place where your bodies met. Where your cunt clasped him in a vice grip. “Takin’ me so well,” he gruffed, at which you whimpered. Then, you felt his big, warm hand splaying against your lower abdomen. “Gon’ fill you up, little wolf.”

“Please,” you squeaked.

“Yeah?” He leaned in close, and you opened your eyes, finding golden irises gazing back at you. “Yeah? Want me to get you full of me? Take all my seed like you were made to?”

You cried out, jolting against you when he thrust forward particularly hard, sending your body vibrating with ecstasy. “Need it so bad!” You practically shrieked.

“I’ll give it all to you. Get this pretty tummy nice an’ round. Full of my pups.”

At his words, your entire world tilted on its axis. Your brain went blank with white-hot pleasure. All you knew was “yes, yes, yes!” That was what you wanted. That was what your body was begging for. To mate. To be bred.

Rhett kissed you again, swallowing your babbled pleas. You felt as if you were not of your body. Like you were floating over yourself, watching your husband fuck you. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Your body shook and shivered. Your eyes rolled back in your skull. You couldn’t speak. You could hardly breathe. It was immeasurable. Indescribable. You were certain you were going to pass out from the ecstasy. It surged through you from head to toe, sizzling and sparking, illuminating the very edges of your soul, sending you into orbit.

You swore you did black out for a moment. How was it possible that something could feel this good? You had experienced all-consuming pleasure before, multiple times. Rhett was a generous lover who always made you see stars when he fucked you. But this was different. This was mind-bending, soul-shattering, earth-shaking.

You didn’t realize you were repeatedly chanting his name. It left your lips like a prayer, breathlessly whispered up to the heavens. He spoke to you, but you couldn’t hear him. You were deafened by searing pleasure, ringing in your ears, rattling your very bones to their marrow.

You barely registered his mouth at your neck again, teeth nipping into tender flesh. All you knew was that you were existing on an otherworldly plane. And then you felt it. That flame that had been burning inside you was growing. Hotter, bigger, more intense.

Rhett could feel it. You were trembling uncontrollably, body convulsing as if you’d been struck by raw electricity. Your cunt kept pulsing around him, tightening so intensely that he almost struggled to move within you.

“Let go,” he rasped, knowing that he, too, was nearing his end. He could feel it, crackling to life at the base of his spine, thrumming within his heavy, aching balls. He was driven by his need to fill you with his very essence.

“I-I’m c-co-” but you couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come. They were impossible. So you simply cried and wailed beneath him, so certain you were about to burst into flames, reduced to nothing but ash.

But you didn’t burst into a fiery inferno. Instead, every nerve, every neuron, every atom of your body was consumed with something you could never, ever describe with mere mortal words.

Your eyes went wide as you locked your gaze with Rhett’s. Mouth open, chest pressing into his as you jerked forward. And then it hit you. Hard, deep, stretching over every inch of your body. You let out a carnal howl, which surely echoed for miles outside of your home.

You fell apart around your husband’s cock, keening, sobbing, consumed by blazing euphoria. You felt as if you were part of the universe, an explosion of blazing stars, scattered brilliantly across the universe in a blinding, breathtaking array.

You thought it would end, but it didn’t. Your eyes flew open when you realized you were still coming. “Rhett!” You shrieked. “I-I c-ca-can’t stop!”

His mouth fell open as he gasped sharply, grunting as your body continued to undulate beneath him. But he couldn’t reply, for suddenly, he was overcome. His own release rushed through him in an overwhelming surge, and his grunt turned into a yowl. The heat of his release flooded the very core of your being, filling you until it spilled out around the edges of his cock, dripping down to the floor beneath you.

It took what felt like an eternity for you both to come back to yourselves. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but once Rhett regained feeling in his extremities, he gingerly lifted himself from where his body had fallen against your own.

His eyes were back to their familiar human blue, so brilliant and comforting all at once. His face was soft with concern, and he lifted his hand to gently stroke your tear-dampened cheek. “Y’ okay, little wolf?” He asked.

You couldn’t find your voice, so you simply nodded, sniffling softly. He soothed you, leaning in close to kiss you deeply. “That was…fuck, that was a lot,” he continued on.

“I-I know,” you whispered, barely audible.

Gently, he eased his cock out of you, and you let out a heartbreaking cry at the emptiness. One that he soothed with another kiss. He brought his hand down between your legs, cupping your dripping cunt, soothing any pain he might’ve caused. But you weren’t in pain. Far from it.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Got a call from Dad this mornin’ about a calf that got hurt, had to go deal with that and it took all fuckin’ mornin’, and by the time I realized what time it was, it was too late. I know I shouldn't ‘ve left you all alone like that, and I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It’s okay. When I was crying at you about it I…I don’t think I was in my right mind. I’ve never felt like that in my entire life. Felt like I could crawl out of my own skin. Hurt so bad, I needed you somethin’ fierce. I’ve had heats before but nothing could ever compare to this.”

Rhett hummed, lifting his own hand to place over the one you’d rested on his cheek. “From now on, I ain’t leavin’ you. Don’t want you goin’ through that alone again. I’ll stay with you until it’s over.”

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

You spent a few more moments on the floor, catching your breath and processing what had just taken place. Rhett glanced at the claw marks he’d left in the hardwood and groaned in annoyance. “Next time you wanna fuck like animals, let’s do it in bed, where I can’t mess up the woodwork I broke my back tryin’ to get perfect,” he grumbled.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Noted,” you said.

You allowed him to help you up off the floor, and he pulled you to him, naked bodies pressed together. His gaze grew serious. “I love you, little wolf. I’m gonna take good care of you while you go through this, alright? Don’t want my darlin’ sufferin’ on my watch.”

You beamed at him and bumped your nose against his. “I know you will. You always do.”

Again, he kissed you, and then he guided you back to the bathroom from whence you’d come. There, you showered together, cleansing yourselves of your previous activities. For the time being, you were sated, and that terrible, gnawing ache was gone. What followed was this strange sort of floating feeling. Your bodies were producing special pheromones which intensified the bonding process immediately following sex.

You felt so connected to Rhett, even more so than you ever had before. It was a little overwhelming. After your shower, you refused to part from one another. You stayed close, curling up in bed for a little rest after such an exhausting morning. Rhett lovingly wrapped you in his embrace, your still bare bodies intertwined.

He traced patterns on your skin with his fingertips and told you all the things he loved about you. He confessed how grateful he was that you were his mate, and how he’d been lost before he met you. You spoke of your future together and what it might entail. Including the little ones you might add to your family if the Fates smiled down upon you.

You connected on an entirely new level, and it only served to knit your hearts closer together. And then, you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, cuddled in each other’s embrace.

But your body would soon wake you again, and you would be reacquainted with that all too familiar ache. This time, however, Rhett was with you. You found yourself whimpering, crying for him as you shook him awake.

He remained perfectly calm as he soothed you, kissing you so lovingly as he arranged your body into position. Slowly, steadily, he eased himself into you again, joining your bodies as one.

“You’re okay, little wolf. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

And you knew he would.

tagging (a mix of those already on my taglist/those who might be interested):

@cdauni @gothamrots @happyrebelruins @bobfloydsbabe @myfandomchangesalot @mikpieboo @petersunderoos96 @eighthwvnder @yanna-banana @bradshawsbaby @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @basiccortez @thesluttyarchivist @rhettabbotts @milesmillergf @briseisgone @laluneveillesureux @gohnspants @bobfloyds @wkndwlff @damrlova @withahappyrefrain @michaego

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic

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zvaigzdelasas · 1 year

Text

While most Ukrainians battled against Germany during the war, it’s well known that the western region of the country collaborated with the Third Reich — and that thousands of those involved were allowed to resettle in Canada. [...]

When Anthony Rota, [...] introduced Hunka during Zelenskyy’s Sept. 22 visit, he called him a “veteran from the Second World War who fought for Ukrainian independence against the Russians and continues to support the troops today.”

And Hunka made the argument himself after Russia invaded his homeland last year. “In the last war, I joined the Ukrainian underground to fight Russia, so I was fighting the same people they’re fighting now,” he told a reporter covering a peace vigil in North Bay, Ontario, in March 2022. “Nothing has changed there. The same enemy. First Stalin was there and now this idiot,” he said, referring to Russian President Vladimir Putin. [...]

In a post for the SS Galichina veterans’ blog Combatant News, Hunka wrote that 1941 to 1943 — after Germany invaded Ukraine and before Hunka enlisted — were the happiest years of his life. He also recalled eagerly awaiting “the legendary German knights” to come and attack “the hated Poles,” using a slur for Polish people, in 1939.

Captioned photos from the blog show Hunka during SS artillery training in Munich in December 1943 and in Poland around the time of a visit by Nazi mastermind Heinrich Himmler. “I know that if I ordered you to liquidate the Poles … I would be giving you permission to do what you are eager to do anyway,” Himmler said during that visit, according to several historical accounts. Now, the Polish minister of education is looking into whether Hunka can be extradited and prosecuted for what happened during the war.[...]

[After the war,] Hunka made his living in the aircraft industry, working his way up to inspector at DeHavilland Aircraft in Toronto. After retirement, he visited Ukraine nearly every year, according to a profile of him in a University of Alberta newsletter announcing the donation made in his honor by his sons. The profile said he also served as president of the parish council of St. Volodymyr Ukrainian Catholic Church in Thornhill, Ontario.[...]

In his mea culpa, Rota made it sound like Hunka was a constituent from his district [...] whom he did not know much about. “This initiative was entirely my own,“ Rota said[...]

But Rejean Venne, an independent Canadian journalist, wrote in his Substack newsletter this week that Rota and Hunka family members have had numerous chances to cross paths over the years. Among Venne’s examples:

- One of Hunka’s sons, Martin, was chief financial officer of Redpath Mining, a multinational corporation headquartered in Rota’s district. Redpath has contributed to Rota’s campaigns and Rota has provided government funding for recreational facilities operated by Redpath. (The company did not respond to inquiries from the Forward made Thursday.)

- Martin Hunka has also served as chair of the board of trustees for North Bay Hospital, which is located in Rota’s district and which Rota has supported. Hunka’s name can no longer be found on the hospital’s website and social media posts. (The hospital did not respond to a request for comment emailed Thursday.)

- North Bay Pride, an LGBTQ+ organization, gave an award to Rota nine months after Yaroslav’s granddaughter Leshya Lecappelain joined its board of directors. In 2022 and 2023, North Bay Pride received more than $100,000 in funding from Rota. (Asked about this, a spokesperson for North Bay Pride said Lecappelain had not been on its board for several years.)

“Rota’s response that this was a last-minute request doesn’t add up,” Venne said in an email interview. “The Hunka family appears well connected in Rota’s district.”

The Forward could not determine whether Hunka and Rota met before he was honored at Parliament. Rota and others at the House of Commons did not respond to several requests for comment sent Wednesday and Thursday. Efforts to reach Yaroslav, Martin and Peter Hunka, Lecappelain and other members of the family for comment were also unsuccessful.[...]

On Wednesday, the University of Alberta said it would return the CA$30,000 endowment that Hunka’s sons donated in 2019 in their father’s honor. The money was intended to fund research at the school’s Canadian Institute for Ukrainian Studies. But Per Anders Rudling, a university alumnus and expert on Ukrainian nationalism who teaches at Sweden’s Lund University, said the Hunka fund is just “the top of an iceberg.” In an email to the Forward, Rudling said the University of Alberta has “much larger endowments” honoring other figures connected to the Waffen SS unit. The “most problematic,” he said, is the Volodymyr and Daria Kubijovych Memorial Endowment Fund [Editors note: archive link - also "matched two-to-one by the Government of Alberta"] At CA$450,000 — about $334,000 — it’s 15 times larger than the Hunka fund the university is returning.[...] In a Facebook post Thursday, Rudling also questioned university endowments named for other Galichina Division veterans, including Roman Kolisnyk, Levko Babij and Edward Brodacky. Pointing to research he published in The Journal of Slavic Military Studies [Editors note: 1, 2], Rudling said, “I have tried to raise this issue in the past, to no avail.”

Asked about Rudling’s concerns, Michael Brown, a spokesperson for the University of Alberta, reiterated a statement in which interim provost Verna Yiu said the school is “reviewing its general naming policies and procedures, including those for endowments, to ensure alignment with our values.” Yiu also expressed the school’s “commitment to address anti-Semitism in any of its manifestations, including the ways in which the Holocaust continues to resonate in the present.” The honors given to SS Galichina fighters extend beyond academia. One of the University of Alberta’s endowments is for its former chancellor Peter Savaryn, another SS Galichina member. In 1987, Savaryn was awarded the Order of Canada, among the nation’s highest honors, bestowed by Canada’s governor general, the representative of the British Crown. Mary Simon, the current governor general, has condemned the Hunka scandal as “a shock and an embarrassment.”[...]

When the Hunka endowment was announced in 2020, the university said it would fund research on two “leaders of the underground Ukrainian Catholic Church,” Cardinal Josyf Slipyj and Metropolitan Andrei Sheptytsky. (A metropolitan is akin to a bishop.) Slipyi was a deputy in Ukraine’s 1941 self-proclaimed government, which pledged to work closely with Germany under Hitler’s leadership. Slipyi also assigned chaplains to SS Galichina and celebrated the unit’s inaugural Mass. After the war, the Soviets sent him to gulag prison camps. But Sheptytsky’s legacy is layered [sic]. He helped “dozens of Jews find refuge in his monasteries and even in his own home,” according to Yad Vashem, while also supporting “the German army as the savior of the Ukrainians from the Soviets.”

Harvard University also houses a Ukrainian Research Institute. Asked, after Alberta’s announcement, whether that institute’s funding would be scrutinized for Nazi ties, the university said in a statement that the institute had never received money from the Hunkas, nor had it received donations designated for research related to SS Galichina. Harvard did, however, in 1974 establish a fellowship and faculty position in European studies with money from a foundation named for Alfred Krupp, who was convicted of war crimes for using slave laborers from Auschwitz to build and work in a factory.[...]

In Canada, questions about the Ukrainian immigrants’ past dogged them for decades, and in 1985, the country launched a Commission of Inquiry on War Criminals, known as the Deschênes Commission. Investigators were mostly limited to considering evidence gathered in Canada, and ultimately they came to the controversial conclusion that the Galichina Division “should not be indicted as a group” and that “mere membership” in the division was insufficient to justify prosecution or revoke citizenship.

This week, as Trudeau apologized for the Hunka salute, B’nai Brith Canada called for the full release of the commission’s report, which had been heavily redacted, along with other Holocaust-era records, in order to “restore public trust in our institutions.” “Canadians deserve to know the full extent to which Nazi war criminals were permitted to settle in this country after the war,” the group said Tuesday[...]

Why would Hunka’s family risk his humiliation, at age 98, by putting him under a spotlight? Did they not realize how his military record would be perceived and portrayed? “It’s arrogance. It’s not naiveté,” said Jack Porter, a research associate at Harvard’s Davis Center for Russian and Eurasian Studies and himself a Jewish child survivor of the Holocaust, born in Ukraine. “They know what their father did,” he said. “It’s hubris, it’s chutzpah. They rationalize that these men were fighting communism. If a few Jews were killed, they also were communists.”[...]

More than 2.5 million Ukrainians died fighting against Germany. “There were many good Ukrainians; they should not all be stigmatized,” he said.

But he said veterans who fought under the Nazis like Hunka and his compatriots have been emboldened by the whitewashing of their history, especially since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine last year. “They’ve been hiding in plain sight,” he said. “They’ve been there for 60 years and nobody has touched them, so of course they feel OK.”

29 Sep 23

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zz0nie · 10 months

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"Look at me!"

notes; gn!reader reader is literally called "reader" im not a professional dancer i dont know how to write about it sorry ;w; COULD IMPLY TEENY ANGSTY PART!?!?" (OVERALL FLUFF)

800 wrds

She's entrancing you. Every movement, the flutter of her eyes as her legs control the light that has been struggling to catch up with her as she prances her way across the stage. Your mind goes to other places - Furina has been unusually interested in you, why wouldn't she invite Neuvillette instead of you?

You watch the way her chest heaves in excitement and thrill as you applaud her, gaze fixed on you.

"Wasn't that just amazing?" She gawps, hopping off the stage and running up to your seat, pulling your hands into hers. The proximity between the two of you is nothing but a few centimetres. But oh, how the way her eyes are staring into yours intensely. Oh, she's staring. You look away from any part of her face as you realise this, her eye contact with you is going to eat you whole, - you can feel your chest feel empty with nervousness - you feel hot suddenly and you avert your gaze to anywhere but her in a panic, as much as she tries to keep in frame with your eyes, you avoid her.

You close your eyes and smile at her briefly to the best of your current abilities. "It was amazing Furina," your smile widens as you attempt to look at back her, excitement filling up her body, or is it ego? "Maybe you could teach me how to dance like you." You joke around, taking a step back to place some space between you.

"Oh. My." She gasps, "Do you, Y/N really not know how to dance?" She grins, oh how pretty she is. You're cut off from your thoughts however as she pulls you forward to the stage, "Let's go then! This'll be great!" Her steps are quick, causing you to trip on your on feet from where you were stood. Was this a good idea?

Even though you were just extremely close to her, you can't help but feel nervous as she places a hand on your hip and then uses the other to place your hand on her shoulder.

She starts moving her feet to the left, and you clumsily follow - looking down to see where her feet go next. She's slow, and keeps her eyes on you - you can feel her eyes on you, examining you, as you try to copy her. - fixated on something that you refuse to give.

"Why don't you look at me?" She quietly hums as you stare, bewildered from the comment. Your face, red in embarrassment shakes in denial as you continue to look at your feet together.

Time comes to slow the dance and you know what she wants from you, you have seen it all the time. It's time for you to hold her close, and personal like you're cradling her heart. The way you spin with her becomes more fluid, like you're two regions of water mixing. If anything at this point she has full control over where you go and how you step.

"You are avoiding me, reader." She becomes more stern, controlling and like a true archon demanding for a request to be complete. "Look at me, please." She pleads this time, leaning her head to be able to look at you. As much as you turn your head she persists, you're getting dizzier by the second as she controls your movement.

The music in the background comes to be and you have had it with her constancies making you feel guilty. Your heart aches, a stinging feeling that plunges deep into you. She pulls away from you, however still holding onto your hand. This time, you search for her eyes, her smile, anything that screams 'Furina' but you're left with nothing but a solemn expression. Is this how she feels against you? Like a fighting battle, ignoration of beauty from one. How it aches you to see her this way. So instead of letting go, you pull her back, setting her feat off-guard and face perplexed as you dip her to the ground.

Looking Furina in the eyes you sigh, "You make me nervous, Furina." You look away briefly, then back at her with panic in your eyes, "Sorry-"

You are stopped, pulled in by the neck to a passionate kiss, Furina's lips collide against your own, shock spreading throughout your body in realization what is happening. Losing grip on her as your arms become weak, you pull her back up with your last strength - leaving the kiss - clueless on what to do. It was something small, passionate and sweet. Something you'd like to call, "genuine".

For the final time, the music comes to a finale and you bring your eyes towards her own mis-matched ones. Furina is smiling, a genuine smile - the one she only wore around you two alone, - and if you looked close enough you could've sworn you could see a little tear prick the corners of her eyes.

"You finally looked at me."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #furina x y/n #furina x you #furina #zz0nie

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humming-pokemon-helpers · 7 months

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//By the way, not ready to launch the full official masterpost yet, but... if you can tell from how I've been posting, I have a major 'story' arc planned very soon! Stakes will raise as the arc goes, the absolute peak being ultra but mostly at drama (early)/high (later). My current title for the arc is "A Vision in the Mirror"; current 'prelude' posts are being tagged with #vision prelude :)

//This is sort of a "gauging interest" post; if people are interested in participating in some way, whether with a major role that spurs their own character arcs forward or in some minor way, my DMs are open! (Or comments. Or reblogs. So on so forth.) Not starting seriously for a little bit yet, considering a planning server to bounce ideas in.

//To get the fun stuff out of the way first, this is a pretty flashy arc near the end! For anybody interested in participating, there's going to be stuff to do either battling or in situation/crisis management on a legendary scale. Or just posting about "what the fuck is that"! There's a lot of personal intrigue on the lead-up to it as well, which will be focused mostly around Vanilla and his friends, Colress, and what seems to be a mysterious doppelganger of Vanilla with unknown goals. (There's also plenty of chances to get involved in the lead-up!)

//This arc is also going to be focusing on some rather heavy topics, similar to the previous arc. Overall themes include regret and forgiveness, duty and choice, perfection and reality (which is my fancy way of avoiding saying 'truth and ideals'), and most concretely, Pokéballs and the ties between humans and Pokémon. (I feel pretentious now, saying all that.)

//Specific topics that are likely to come up and may be challenging along the way include depictions of anxiety, trauma, and suicidality, discussion of death (human and Pokémon), (non-graphic) injury and death, blackmailing/defamation, impersonation, and vague discussion around Pokémon abuse. Everything will be tagged appropriately, but those are the main ones that may be worth blocking the #a vision in the mirror tag might be useful for.

TL;DR: New arc soon! Looking for anybody interested in either smaller-scale character drama (say, being messed with by a strange Zorperson then having problems with Vanilla, in support later on, etc) or in larger-scale, "protect-the-region" style information gathering, fighting, planning, etc. Note the triggers and the themes, if either influence your interest!

#//ooc post #//this got long oops. lmk if something. doesn't make sense writing this late

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jussst-lurking · 1 year

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Lesbian Lestappen

Ok, seeing a picture of girl Max unlocked an entire fucking story idea in my brain! Here goes (this is long btw):

It would sort of be lestappen through the years (cliché I know) but!!! they’re both girls. So imagine, Max and Charlene in karting as the only girls and they are both really really good, Max was basically winning everything in the regional Dutch championships, and even though it’s her father who’s doing this with her, she’s always compared to her mother (maybe also because ppl see that she’s talented but no one thinks she’ll actually take this further than karting).

Meanwhile Charlene is really successful in the regional French championships and when they both start racing internationally and against each other and as the only girls in the classification people start whispering about them. Some see them as promising young talents, others don’t look on them as favourably.

Anyways, the two of them get pitted against each other a lot (as society tends to do with women and girls) and they constantly fight each other for wins and they cannot fucking stand each other (especially Charlene, because Max tends to get the better of her more often than the other way around, and she really has this mindset that there can only be one girl here.)

Fast forward a couple years: in a shocking move that nobody saw coming Toro Rosso offers Max a drive for 2015. People are outraged, say she’s too young at 17, say she won’t be able to take the pressure, write disgusting speculative articles about whether she’ll be able to keep up with the boys, or that she’s getting the seat because she’s a girl or some shit (as if you’d get preferential treatment in motorsport when you’re female). Anyways, Max enters the sport and serves absolute cunt, not taking shit from anybody, achieving multiple p4 in a car that clearly doesn’t belong there, she’s battling with many of the well established drivers and wins (sometimes) but she also gets criticised a shitload for her ‘overly aggressive’ driving style, with many calling it unnecessary and dangerous, others even joking that it’s not ladylike to drive that way. Max obviously doesn’t give a shit, says that’s the way she drives and that people should deal with it.

Then, in 2016 more shocking news: they’re putting her in the Red Bull not even half way though the season. People criticise the move left and right, again the arguments of her being too young, too immature, unable to handle the pressure of a top team, that she’s driving too aggressively and will only bring the team down etc. Max shuts them up by winning her first race for the team, with an RB 1-2 in Malaysia, and that phenomenal drive in the wet in Brazil. Rules get changed because of her, older drivers are afraid of her (see: Nico Rosberg in Abu Dhabi 2016) and the discourse around her never really stops.

People also see how well she’s getting on with Daniel, and oh, they’re vile about it! Say she’s flirting with him and manipulating him and all of that good stuff. Some people think she slept her way into that rb seat anyways…

At the same time, Charlene is setting the junior categories on fire, winning f3 and gp2 in a row, both times as a rookie, and it’s hard to look away from her. It seems almost inevitable when it gets announced that Charlene will debut in f1 with Alfa Romeo. Like with Max, there’s backlash, but maybe less so because Charlene proved herself by winning 2 junior categories in a row. Still, some question the direction f1 is headed in. (Also when f1 gets rid of the grid girls and many see it as pandering to woke culture and all of that. Maybe they even try to blame Max (and Charlene) for it.)

There is an absolute shitstorm when Ferrari kicks out Kimi (of all people!) and signs Charlene for 2019. People say the nastiest shit about her.

She doesn’t want to admit it at first, but all the vile comments and inappropriate interview questions get to her and so she reluctantly seeks out Max.

Max herself is dealing with the news of Daniel leaving and people blaming her for it, saying the team is building around her, trying to make her the first female world champion and so on.

Charlene confides in Max that she’s struggling with all the things people say about her and that she sometimes questions whether she actually deserves the seat. Max tells her that people are assholes and that Charlene shouldn’t listen to them because she 100% deserves that Ferrari seat, but also that it’s harder for them here, that they basically have to be twice as good to get half the recognition and therefore it’s important to just keep pushing, keep your head down and do the talking on track.

Things heat back up between them in 2019: they are in a fierce battle for 3rd in the championship and shit hits the fan in Austria, people are taking sides, pitting them against each other even more. The battles they produce are some of the most entertaining races of the entire season.

Things calm down in 2020, what with the pandemic and Ferrari being shit, there isn’t really much happening between the two of them except for that incident in Sakhir.

But then 2021 comes around and Max has her first proper chance to fight for the title. She grabs her opportunity with both hands and leads the championship by Monaco. Even though Ferrari is better this year, Max and Lewis are in a league of their own and all the attention is on them. Then, Silverstone happens. A heated battle turns into all out war, splitting the fan base, and Max is getting slandered and demonised by the media and she has so much pressure on her shoulders. She appears to handle it well, but Charlene sees all the vile and sexist shit people are saying about Max and she absolutely is not having it and reaches out to Max to make sure she’s ok. They start a tentative friendship, mostly bound to the paddock and even though Max isn’t saying it and it’s not visible from the outside, her friendship with Charlene, who can relate to her in a way others can’t, gives her so much strength to keep going. Max wins her first Championship in the most controversial fashion possible, but she holds her head high and ignores the people calling her a fake champion.

She takes the number 1 for herself, mostly because that’s what she always wanted, but also to remind people who the reigning champion is. The gold details on her helmet and the golden boots are there to highlight it even more.

2022 starts with a bang, the new regulations seem to be working as Max and Charlene battle for the win and for the championship. Everybody is surprised by how well they seem to get along with each other, and despite multiple attempts by the media to put the two against each other, they have nothing but kind words to say. The battle for the championship doesn’t last very long though, because Ferrari keeps screwing up the strategy and suffer from unreliability. Max is Charlene’s number 1 defender when people try to put the blame on her. They get closer, get into a habit of discussing their races together and sometimes they go out after a race or meet up in a hotel room to watch a movie to unwind. Max is always there to comfort Charlene after a bad race and they both start to fall for each other (or maybe in Max’s case she starts realising that she’s had feelings for Charlene for a while now) and then, probably in Austria (because where else would it be) Max ‘accidentally’ ends up kissing Charlene during their race debrief that evening. Max apologises but Charlene says there’s no need to and kisses her. They get together and everything and Max wins her second title and then maybe they appear at the fia gala together but they don’t explain anything? And all of f1 is going crazy about what that means and so on and so forth, and then there are those cryptic pictures on instagram and then in 2023 they are so obvious and when Charlene gets pole in Baku Max just straight up kisses her, but they both refuse to elaborate on it, and that’s how everyone gets to know they’re dating.

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #fic idea #this idea came to me at the most inconvenient time ever #I’m in the middle of exam phase #and I already have a summer project (my space au)#but this would be sooo cool to write

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hungry-tum-stuff · 1 year

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Regional Phenomena: Zora’s Domain

! Spoilers for the Regional Phenomena Questline in Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom !

Synopsis: Link and Sidon venture together to save Zora’s Domain. However, Sidon is exhausted from working tirelessly to keep the Domain’s water clean, and he might need a break before they can tackle what’s waiting for them on the sky islands.

CW: Hunger, Stomach growling, Denying one’s own needs, Angst, Tummy rubs, Starved-to-stuffed, Cuddling.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note(s): Okay so I’m making moves in my niche little fanfic here, but

1. I won’t be rewriting actual cutscene dialogue from the game even though it takes place when a cutscene happens, this is all just fanfic. You know how it works.

2. Link talks briefly in this one. I have never written speech for him before, and feel free to comment any feedback you have on how his voice sounds to you! But just bear in mind that Link, as a silent protagonist, is meant to be interpreted by the player. And as a semi-verbal person, I put a lot of thought (and had a lot of fun) in writing him, even though he doesn’t even say an awful lot.

3. No Yona Hate! I don’t want to see it! She’s neat and I purposefully left the relationships in this fic as ambiguous (aside from Yona still being Sidon’s fiancée) so you can interpret the fic however you please.

4. Thank you for reading <3

Link readied his spear just as Sidon’s water bubble enveloped him.

“You have him now, Link!” Sidon called out from behind him as Link rushed the monster. It lunged at him, and the protective bubble burst, showering Link with water. That was his signal to thrust at the creature with his spear, driving it into its weak point. The slimy monster wailed, and both Link and Sidon heaved a sigh of relief as it wilted and disappeared in a puff of gloom. Link looked to Sidon, who had taken a knee and was leaning heavily on his spear.

‘Are you ok?’ Link signed, to which Sidon nodded and pushed himself up wearily.

“I’m quite alright, brave Link. It is still as exhilarating as ever to fight alongside you.” He smiled encouragingly, to which Link smiled back. They both turned around as Yona stepped forward, worriedly looking them both over.

“Goodness, I’m glad you both are alright…” Yona took Sidon’s hand and inspected anywhere he might have been hit, and the Prince chuckled abashedly.

“I’m alright dear, really…” Sidon takes her hand, squeezing it gently. “I must ask though, are you certain Mipha Court will be safe if I leave? What if another monster like that attacks while I’m gone?”

“Sidon dear, we’ll have bigger things to worry about if you don’t go.” Yona stopped her fussing over her fiancée to take both of his hands, looking him in the eyes. “I know for certain that Zora’s Domain will be safe with the help of you and Link, I just hope you trust me to keep it safe while you’re gone.”

“Of course I do!” Sidon insisted. “My love, you are the caretaker of our people. There isn’t a soul I would trust more than you.”

Yona beamed. “Then it’s settled. Go with Link, and save our domain.”

Sidon nodded assuredly, and gave Yona’s hands a quick squeeze before letting go and starting towards the cliff atop Mipha Court.

“Link, let’s not waste any time. To the reservoir!” He called, charging ahead as if he were already on the front lines of a battle. Yona and Link both watched him dash away with equally amused grins, but before Link could take a step to follow him, Yona caught his arm.

“Link. I have a favor to ask of you.”

Link turned around, already listening intently.

“Could you please… Keep Sidon safe? I know that sounds a bit silly, but you know him… He gets in over his head, and I worry not just for him, but for the whole Domain if something were to happen to him. Especially after his father was attacked…” Yona trailed off, and Link placed a hand on her shoulder, nodding solemnly in understanding.

‘We’ll keep each other safe.’ He signed. ‘You don’t have to worry about either of us. I promise.’

Yona smiled, nodding gratefully.

“Thank you, Link. Good luck, I’ll be here when you both return.”

And with that, Link waved goodbye and headed up the staircase of Mipha Court. He gave Mipha’s statue a fleeting glance before diving off the cliff and into the reservoir below. As soon as he surfaced, he caught sight of Sidon standing atop a chunk of ruins, staring down at the Hylian in awe.

“That was an impressive dive my friend! I would expect most to be scared of a plunge like that.” Link hoisted himself up onto the rock and put his hands proudly on his hips before signing a response.

‘If we’re going into the sky, I can’t be afraid of heights.’ Sidon chuckled softly, and at that Link couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. The Prince was still acting less energetic than usual, and he couldn’t tell if it was nerves or something else.

“I suppose not. Though I still don’t see any clear way to get up onto the island… Come, let’s investigate that light in the water.” Sidon readied himself to dive into the water, but before he could, Link stepped in front of him to keep his attention.

‘Wait.’ He signed quickly, looking up at the confused Zora. ‘Are you sure you’re ok?’

Sidon tilted his head, though his gaze did not meet Link’s. “Of course. I wasn’t hurt in the fight, my friend. I cleared that matter up with Lady Yona.” He insisted, but Link shook his head.

‘That’s not what I’m asking.’ Still confused, Sidon opened his mouth to speak, but he froze as a loud, angry growl tore from his stomach. Link immediately looked at the Prince’s midsection, surprised by the noise.

‘I was going to ask if you were tired or hungry.’ Link raised an eyebrow again, glancing up at his friend. ‘But I guess I don’t need to ask anymore.’ Sidon looked away and placed a hand over his belly; embarrassed.

“I apologize… I am a bit hungry, but we don’t exactly have the time to stop on account of me, now do we?” Sidon tried to step into the water again, only for the Hylian to throw both of his arms out and stand firmly in front of him.

‘You need to eat.’ Link signed sternly. Sidon’s stomach grumbled again, and the Prince sighed and shook his head.

“I am hardly concerned with what I need right now. We both need to focus on what needs to be done.” Sidon argued. Link glared at him before dropping his arms and stomping off the edge of the ruins, beginning to swim towards one of the docks at the edge of the reservoir. Sidon watched him, briefly turning back towards the beam of light before following Link into the water.

“Link! You’re going the wrong way!” He called out, but the hero ignored him as he pulled himself up onto the dock. Thunder crashed overhead alongside the setting sun, and Link hurried under the awning as it began to pour. Sidon, already caught out in the rain, watched as he took something from his bag and set it up: A cooking pot. As Link began rifling through his bag and taking out ingredients, Sidon stepped over to stand just outside the edge of the awning.

“Link, you really don’t have to cook something for me.” Sidon swallowed thickly as Link took out some fish. “We should just figure out how to get above the clouds so we can get out of this storm…”

‘We don’t know what’s waiting for us up there.’ Link signed grimly. ‘I know you want to press on. But you’ve been in Mipha Court purifying the water non-stop. Bazz told me you were up there for days on end without breaks. So when we go up there I want to make sure you aren’t already at your limit. Because it sounds like you’re close to it.’

Sidon blinked, taking in Link’s words for a moment before lowering his head. Link frowned and set his ingredients in the pot as he got up to stand in front of Sidon.

“I’m afraid you’re right, my friend…” Link rolled his eyes and signed ‘Obviously,’ to which Sidon chuckled. “I apologize, everything that I’ve done in these past few months since The Upheaval has been for The Domain. I suppose I just… find it difficult to consider myself when the lives of so many others are at stake.”

Link nodded. ‘I know the feeling. Trust me. That’s all I felt when I woke up after The Calamity.’ Link admitted. ‘But then I met you. And everyone I know now. I’m still trying to put it into practice but you all taught me that I don’t have to carry the weight of protecting Hyrule alone. And that I’ve only hurt myself trying.’ Sidon smiled, but before he could say anything heartfelt in return, his stomach groaned longingly. Link snickered, and Sidon flushed, rubbing circles over his empty tummy.

“Your words mean a lot, dear Link. But you have me convinced, the smell of your cooking alone is driving me mad.” He admitted, and Link gasped and rushed over to his cooking pot to stir the stew he was making. Sidon finally stepped under the awning and sat beside the fire, his stomach churning and rumbling in anticipation. After determining that it needed a bit more time, Link set his ladle aside and sat down next to the Prince.

‘Done soon.’ He signed quickly, sighing and rubbing his own belly. Even though he started making this meal for Sidon, it was nearly dinnertime. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t starting to feel hungry too. Though, he figured Sidon had worked up far more of an appetite than him. ‘How long since you last ate?’

Sidon thought for a moment, seemingly looking for the answer in the flames of the fire. “About two days… That was when I last stopped to rest.”

Link’s eyes widened and he stared up at him in worried disbelief, and Sidon simply nodded and made the universal ‘it’s okay, calm down’ sign in the hopes that Link would hold his lecture. “I know I know, there was initially a night shift while Lady Yona was overseeing the purification alongside me, but then people in the Domain began to fall ill, and then she left to aid them, and the sludge just kept coming so I kept working…” His stomach moaned again, this time it was enough to make him flinch. “I felt like I couldn’t leave.”

Link huffed and reached a hand towards Sidon, to which he removed his own. Link placed a hand over Sidon’s belly, beginning to rub in slow, wide circles.

“Well now I feel kinda bad for making you wait.” Link said quietly. Sidon looked over, the fin on the back of his head wagging slightly. Link didn’t speak often, but when he did, Sidon was assured that the young Hylian was perfectly comfortable. But before he could make any comment, Link held a finger up to Sidon with his remaining hand. The strange new one.

“I just need both hands.” He interjected before he began rubbing both hands in opposite-direction circles. Sidon sighed, relaxing under the other man’s touch. His stomach however, was getting whipped into a frenzy and was growling furiously beneath Link’s fingers.

“That feels very nice…” Sidon winced as a particularly painful growl rippled through his belly. “But when will the food be done?”

“Soon.” Sidon frowned at the unclear answer, but nodded and continued to relax as Link rubbed his tummy. He could have sworn he heard Link’s stomach growling too in the moments when his own stomach was silent, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. The hero had an appetite that rivaled his own.

And of course, as soon as Sidon was eased perfectly into the motions of the other’s hands, Link got up, tasted the soup that was beginning to simmer over, and nodded before pulling out two bowls and filling them up generously. He handed Sidon his bowl, and the Prince hardly took the time to consider where his spoon might be before he began slurping down his stew with as much famished politeness as he could muster.

‘Slow down!’ Link signed frantically before beginning to slurp from his own bowl. Unfortunately, Sidon didn’t see his sign, and Link was still only halfway through his bowl by the time Sidon stood up to pour himself a second helping. By the time Link finished his bowl, Sidon was going in for thirds.

‘Be careful.’ Link signed, waving his hands around and repeating the sign a couple times to make sure Sidon got the message. Sidon just nodded, sipping a bit more politely now that the sharpest edge of his hunger had been staved off.

“Don’t worry, friend Link. Your stew is amazing! I surely doubt I’ll feel anything but full when I’m done.” Link smiled at the compliment, but he couldn’t help but shake his head. At least Sidon’s energy was coming back just fine.

Link himself went back for seconds, but he was surprised to find that there wasn’t an awful lot left in the pot. He glanced between it and Sidon as he poured himself another bowl, deciding that the rest would be better off left to him.

And that it was, because Sidon went in for fourths. And after that was finished and the pot was empty, he really began to feel the weight of his fullness.

“Oh dear…” Sidon exclaimed softly, setting his bowl aside and looking down at his belly. There was a gentle roundness to his usually toned torso, and Link couldn’t help but lower his own bowl to have a peek. He raised an eyebrow, and Sidon glanced over abashedly.

‘Overdid it?’ Link asked with a grin, and Sidon just pursed his lips.

“It’s hardly my fault. As I said, your stew is amazing…” He sighed, beginning to stand up. He took one look out towards the storm still pelting the reservoir, and immediately didn’t want to go back out there. He wasn’t even sure he could swim while he was so full.

‘And heavy. I told you to slow down.’ Link signed, packing up his bowls and cooking supplies before glancing over to the bed that Sidon was already eyeing up. ‘You should probably get some sleep too, y’know?’

The Prince looked back at Link, and then back at the bed. His belly felt heavy, but his eyelids felt far heavier.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt… And we’ll head out first thing tomorrow!” He exclaimed, excitement for their upcoming adventure still filling him with energy despite his drowsiness.

Link just nodded, yawning as Sidon got into bed. The stew had made him a bit tired as well, and without a second thought, he flopped into bed beside him.

“…Link?” The hero looked up drowsily, and Sidon paused for a moment before gathering the smaller man up in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

Link froze before smiling gently and returning the hug, and within the next few moments Sidon had laid his head down and fallen asleep, his stomach still churning away and digesting the four helpings of stew he’d eaten.

And Link simply curled up beside him, and fell asleep soon after.

#ITS DONE #TOOK A BIT BUT ITS DONE #I’m very proud of how this one turned out but I hope you guys like it <3 #sfw hunger kink #hunger kink #stomach growling #tummy kink #stuffing #angst #whump #hurt/comfort #fanficton

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deathandnonexistentialdread · 1 year

Text

Spoilers for: Jojo's Bizzare Adventure Steel Ball Run Chapter 11

Personal note: sorry for the kind of late update. I just finished a terrible exam half a hour ago and this chapter did not help my nerves (in a good way). Enjoy!

Yes!! Go Johnny!!!! Beat him and win!! You got this!!

I'm so glad we get to see Johnny taking action rather than being an omniscient spectator. Not that the omniscient 'I can predict your next moves and thoughts Joseph Joestar style' isn't a bad look on him. I think it's a pretty cool part of Johnny's character.

I just want Johnny to reach his dreams. Go Johnny!!

I would like to say that Diego's assumption is shocking to me but his mentality is literally what the colonizers (British) were like when the colonized unsuspecting regions of the world.

RIP to these two in particular. I hope they didn't break any bones.

🎶Sandman, Sandman does whatever a Sandman can

He is fighting for his clan

And can outsmart any plan🎶 (to the tune.od that Spiderman theme song).( I'm sorry.)

Sandman is here on the scene!!

Yes we got it. They are all lined up.

The number of times the commentator is pushing the point home

Now I want Sandman to win. I hope his situation gets resolved in a happy manner. He deserves it.

Manifesting a happy ending for Sandman

No. How??

Wouldn't the horse's strength break the tree. If the tree was alive, then yeah, it might be possible, but a dead tree? Those things snap easier than Mista when he encounters the number 4.

No. I don't agree with this. Almost all the things that Poco Loco does break all knows laws of physics, and I hate it.

How did the commentator mess that up. Gyro Zeppeli is the only one with a flowy cape. He is a dramatic boi.

I like how throughout this chapter, Diego acts like he just discovered that other people can also be horse jockeys.

He is the equivalent of the surprised pikachu face.

I get the explanation, but i also don't get it. How does the spinny ball sail cape actually work tho? Does the wind that Gyro catches in his cape push him forward??

The reason it works on sailboats is that sailboats literally Float on water. Is Gyro floating? I don't think so.

Or is the spinny ball doing it's spinny ball magic thing?

Congratulations to Gyro for winning!!! You planned it, and despite some hiccups, you succeeded!!

To Johnny and Sandman, don't take this loss to heart. It is only the beginning.

To Poco Loco and Diego...you guys..I have nothing to tell you guys. One of you breaks all the known laws of nature every time he breathes while the other is apparently the only jockey in all of the United Kingdom.

#jjba #steel ball run #johnny joestar #gyro zeppeli #poco loco #pocoloco #diego brando

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princeresnikov · 2 years

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it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 4

four. tangerine: ego death at the venn diagram intersection.

Chapter Summary: it appears hard to convince The Son of the severity of their situation, though he just seems worried that their concerned about the wrong thing. because everyone knows about the woman who lost her arm for a late payment, but The White Death is capable of far more cruelty when he truly cares about the payload. and The Son proves himself to be far more observant and cruel when it comes to making sure his bodyguards are focused.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 4509 words. i know this took a while but we're finally at part 4!! we get a lot of shit happening here, some implications, some accusations, as well as a whole flashback to New York!! the book is very liberal with it's flashbacks so we get one here. writing Tangerine's POV is sometimes a bit of a struggle characterisation-wise, considering everything that he has learned in literally five minutes, so please let me know if there's anything i could be doing differently/better, i love suggestions and i love feedback. have fun!!

Warnings: Don't be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them. There will be smut in the future chapters.

Chapter Warnings: Discussion of how The White Death takes fingers as punishment, but a little more extreme than in the movie. impied smut at the end but its not explicit.

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @felhomaly @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justicex101 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @tongerines

[ always open, just message or comment! ]

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Lemon would probably call her a Diesel, and he'd be bloody well right to, Tangerine catches himself thinking with a scowl. The world outside slips by in the darkness, nothing more than scattered lines of light, disorientating anyone who tried to keep up, like Tangerine with his thoughts in this moment.

"My father hired the two of you," The Son's implied question of 'instead of her?' rang out infuriatingly clear. The audacity this kid has to look at his designated guards with disdain of all things, after everything they went through to make sure he was safe was almost enough to tip Tangerine over the edge and smack him after the series of revelations he'd just endured. But he's not. I'm not going to smack the son of The White Death; he wasn't the kind of person who had personal mantras, but this one was sounding pretty good right now.

"Yeah he did; your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble you got yourself into, naughty, little frog," Tangerine's tone turns infuriatingly chipper, using the only non-violent way he can think of right now to get under The Son's skin. It clearly works, judging by the venomous look that's now being focused on him, "and we've all heard what tight a leash he keeps Miss Clementine on," there's something malevolent in his voice that he doesn't fight to hide, leaning in to make sure the other passengers can't hear his disparaging anger, "so I think if he wanted her on your case, he wouldn't have hired us."

There's definitely more to read into this if he wanted to think about the implications of it all for even a few seconds, but he did not have the time or mental energy in this moment to spiral like that. Sitting up again, he finds once more that The Son's practiced flat expression irks him more than he ever wants to let on, like he's subconsciously hoping for a reaction, for proof that he holds even some power over this asshole.

"Is that why Tangerine?" This, the smugness, the look in his eyes like he's evaluating Tangerine across the table, this is worse than no reaction, even if Tangerine doesn't quite understand what he's asking or implying.

"What?"

"If I were you," The Son shifts forward, oozing unwarranted condescension, "I wouldn't keep Tangerine knowing Clementine was alive." The mocking implication calls back to the stupid argument about whether or not Tangerine feels guilty about New York, which is a bloody moot point now all things considered, and the rest is nothing but an inaccurate guess meant to rile him up. I'm not going to take the bait, I'm not going to smack The Son, with each careful, controlled breath.

"Now seeing as the decisions you've made lead you to a place where you were able to be kidnapped as ransom bait by the Triad, despite you assumedly - well I bloody hope - knowing who your extremely psychotic, fucked up father is," Tangerine knows he's smiling by technicality only, to keep the surrounding passengers unaware of his sharply mounting frustration, "so I'm going to ignore your suggestion, considering, one;" holding up his hand with one extended finger for emphasis, "'s been my name for five years, and two," his smile grows wider, his tone grows brighter, the anger in his eyes still remains, "the decisions I've made are why we were hired by your dear, old dad, and why despite leaving seventeen dead bodies behind, you made it out with only a couple of scratches."

Finally a reaction from The Son, now petulantly scowling out the window, but thankfully keeping his mouth shut. It was enough to satisfy Tangerine's building frustration, letting himself breathe for a moment, ease the tense set of his shoulders, gazing back and forth down the aisle, refocusing, reassessing their carriage and their situation. No immediate threats. No Clementine. Relative peace, at least for a moment -

"Actually, it's sixteen."

"What's that now?"

The second Lemon tries to correct him, there's that pesky twitch of his eyelid that he can't seem to repress no matter how hard he tries. No, it was seventeen. Seriously, how does he not remember all seventeen? Sure it's been a long day, they haven't exactly had much time to rest, and things have taken several turns for the unexpected, but -

Christ. They're going through them, all seventeen. Each kill lines up in their memory as far as it seems, the order, the precision, the visceral feeling in close quarters. Memories fresh enough that he can almost smell the iron-rich blood splattered amongst the fish, neither brother is squeamish about taking pride in their work. But Lemon forgets the civilian. The one who exploded.

"Shit," as if it was so easy to remember once reminded, as if were so easy to forget in the first place, "that wasn't our fault," he adds, reiterating it to The Son beside him almost immediately, dodging any kind of accountability before he could even consider it.

"No? Well what would Thomas the Tank Engine say, Lemon?" Tangerine had no such need to avoid the truth of the matter; if he didn't acknowledge it, he wouldn't be able to learn from it, at least that's what he tells himself.

"That's really mean," Lemon had never liked how Tangerine would pick and choose when to indulge him in his interests, as it was more often than not used against him. Tangerine, however, was tired of having to use a children's animation to get through to his brother half the time.

"He'd say 'take responsibility, mate'," case and point; Tangerine's mocking impression of the cartoon train does it's job of ruffling his brother's feathers, who's already defending the cartoon to The Son, as if he cared, as if that were the most important part of this all.

"He doesn't sound like that."

Tangerine makes a mocking train horn noise. Okay, that bit was just to be an asshole.

Lemon chalks it up to compartmentalisation, quick to imply that Tangerine's insistent need to take on the responsibility of their collateral damage might be making him more volatile. There it is again, Tangerine's 'fixation' as Lemon calls it, on collateral damage, the implication of guilt. They could bicker in circles forever if they tried, Tangerine is sure of it, both knowing each other too well to ever have the upper hand for too long. Tangerine calls him childish for wanting to ignore an unavoidable part of their job that could be learned from as a profession, right up until Lemon crosses his arms and snaps -

"What'd you learn from Clementine then?"

"Clementine's clearly fucking different, don't do that -"

"She wasn't. Until today, she was collateral damage like all the rest of them -"

"Hey listen," The Son interrupts their argument with a mumble and an attempt to get up, "I'm just gonna get off at the next stop."

"Oh let's have a seat then," Lemon, beside him, eases him back into his seat without leaving any room for argument. However visibly annoyed The Son may be, he still sat, still was able to acknowledge when he was outmatched.

"You know that they call your papushka, little frog?" Tangerine can definitely see why Clementine used this nickname like a weapon; there was something so pleasing about seeing the exact grimace The Son makes every time he hears it.

"Fuck you," under his breath in Russian, like he thinks they won't understand it, then, quieter, "of course fucking I do -"

"The White Death," Lemon interjects pointedly, "not exactly a fruit."

"No," Tangerine agreed, carefully fidgeting with a zip tie he'd fished from his pocket, both for something to do with his hands, and to keep The Son's attention off of Lemon securing his free hand to the other arm of the chair, "there's a story - stop me if you've heard it," he continues, keeping his tone light despite his words, "where this woman found herself in the unfortunate position of owing your father a tidy sum of money," of course The Son looks almost bored by the story, but Tangerine forges on ahead; even if The Son didn't take his father seriously, he needed to know that The Twins certainly did, "now the issue was it took her some time to acquire this money, but," he smiles sharply at The Son, "she did pay it back, five minutes late, didn't she?"

"Yeah, what'd he do?" Lemon, somehow unfamiliar with the story, asks. At least The Son seemed to be paying enough attention to know the story and how it ends.

"Cut her arm off."

"Fuckin' hell!" Lemon sat up straight, wearing a look that fell somewhere between shock and horror. Hopefully he'd treat the assignment with more of the severity it deserves now that he apparently understands the full stakes.

"Yeah, said she owed him a finger for every minute," Tangerine explained, which did very little to improve his brother's current state, so he thought to clarify, "yeah, well, he's not a monster, he didn't make her sit through it five times, he just cut once, didn't he?" Immediately Lemon tightens the zip tie around the Son's wrist, securing him in place firmly, barely an ounce of wiggle room. "So our job is to keep you safe," Tangerine continues to his now properly captive audience blithely, "and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside-"

"You shouldn't worry about losing your hand," The Son tells him with almost the hint of a warning in his voice. Still, he tries to tug his arm free. It doesn't budge. So while Tangerine is about to say that he isn't, so long as The Son stayed put and didn't wander off, The Son, now cornered like an animal, doesn't give him the chance before feeling the need to lash out, "because the money didn't matter."

"What?" Lemon voices confusion for both brothers; did The Son not consider that enough motivation for his wellbeing?

"In that story, it's the principle that matters, not the money itself," there's something in his eyes that hadn't been there before, something about how his gaze darts to his hands and between both Lemon and Tangerine, something wild and even a little bit afraid, "my father has money, and actions have consequences; borrow from The White Death, you should know to expect serious repercussions if it is not paid back in time." It's different from his earlier paranoia, that had been veiled with arrogance; it finally felt like the reality of his situation had hit him, "I've seen it before, cruel on paper, but it's a routine punishment; it's why he takes them all at once," Tangerine thinks he saw a flash of this intensity in The Son's eyes when Clementine first called him a frog, but The Brothers let him speak, if only because it was refreshing to see him giving a shit about their mission, "but you speak like you think I also don't matter; talk all the shit you want, I am still The White Death's son."

"It's fucked up, we're acknowledging that, but that's why you can't just hop off and wander 'round the city on your own," Tangerine, unsure of where this was all going considering he thought his own story was pretty well motivating for them all, crosses his arms expectantly.

"You should hope I simply arrive late and you lose a hand than what would happen if I do not arrive at all, because I have a story - stop me if you've heard it before -" he mocks Tangerine from just moments ago, glowering at him, projecting frustration to veil his fear, "the first and last time my father's precious, favourite associate failed him with something much more valuable than money," there's resentment in the way his lip curls into a sneer of disgust, the malice he spits the recollection, "because her unforeseeable, unavoidable failure was still failure. So he made an example, gave her an audience; four fingers were taken, but he made her take them herself, one at a time." As the memory settles over him, some of the frantic energy seems to leave The Son, who sits back in his chair.

"What the fuck," Lemon muttered under his breath, clearly sharing his brother's sentiment, "he made her cut off four of her own fingers?" Every new thing Tangerine learns about The White Death has him regretting taking this job on, because now that he'd heard it, Tangerine realises he did know the story, though he never believed it. It was like a myth, something too cruel to come to pass, something he assumed most would rather die before they endured as a spectacle.

"He told her he would kill her if she complained, so she didn't, ever again," expression drawn, the kid couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with either brother, looking instead at the tabletop in front of him, "it was an effective lesson for someone too useful to kill, and he likes her far more than he likes either of you."

"What did he care so much about that it was worth that kind of torment for the unlucky bastard who failed?" Tangerine frowned. Something about The Son's demeanour was clearly off, as if he hadn't anticipated being so shaken by his own recollection of the events. When he looks to Tangerine, his gaze is guarded again, bordering on hostility.

"My mother," with The Son's harsh words came a sinking sensation in Tangerine's chest as he reads into the implications. There's the horror that comes when he considers the mother's bodyguard's 'failure' had simply been surviving the drunk driving collision that killed her client, "so even with my father's money," The Son looked back out the darkened window, as if trying to re-establish his aloof air from before, "you should know that your chances of leaving intact lower with each moment The Scorpion and I remain on the same train. You're fucking stupid to let her walk off."

"So we're not only in danger from your crazy ex, but because she's your crazy ex?" Lemon deadpans; he seems perturbed by it all, but not nearly as much as Tangerine had been expecting. It's here Tangerine starts to realise that Lemon may not even be away of the full context, either of the story of The White Death's wife, or The White Death himself. Never been the detail-orientated type for anything other than trains, Tangerine doesn't know why he still expects more, Lemon leans on him for that kind of focus.

"I think this is about the time you clue us in on what exactly the fuck went down between you and Clementine?" Tangerine scowled, trying to move on from the story and into comparatively less distressing topics.

"You honestly believe she's a real threat to you?" Lemon adds, just as sick of the clear doubts The Son kept voicing about them.

"As if that's any of your fucking business," the prick sits back, clearly feeling defensive all of a sudden.

"Considering it's kind of come down to kill-or-be-killed because of it, I think it's definitely worth knowing why she's so passionate about offing you," Tangerine refuses to back down, wearing a mean little smile as he needles the kid across from him. It takes an excruciatingly long time for The Son to finally find his voice again, refusing to relent on his defensiveness.

"Like The White Death, it takes very little for The Scorpion to justify her own violence," he says very carefully, deliberating about each word he spoke, "what I had to offer her would never be enough and so she felt disrespected," it practically curdles on his tongue, whole expression turning nasty, "do not underestimate her capacity for cruelty just to prove a point. She could have left New York quietly but she orchestrated her own violent death in front of you both; she poisons everyone she touches in one way or another, it's in her nature." He sits back, clearly desperate to leave the conversation but bound to this moment against his will.

There are holes in The Son's story that are big enough to be craters, his victim mentality neon and obvious enough that Tangerine kind of wants to reiterate his mocking impression of Thomas from a few minutes ago; take accountability, mate. Because what he's saying and the way he and Clementine had been interacting for only a few minutes clearly indicates he's not nearly as shiny and blameless in their altercation as he wants to imply. Perhaps it's the last of his bias for the Clementine he remembers from New York, but The Son talks about Clementine like she's an unfathomable monster, despite how he clearly once liked her well enough to want her.

"Oh, I get it now, like that fable," Lemon lights up with understanding, looking to Tangerine, "The Scorpion and The Frog."

"You poor, little frog," is all Tangerine can say with a derisive shake of his head. Just to make sure they've got all their bases covered, however, he does find himself searching their immediate area for the briefcase of money. The Son may have been his priority, but he still wasn't keen on losing an arm over some money either.

"We'll keep you safe from the big, mean Scorpion," Lemon assures, patting The Son on the arm. As much as he tries to jerk away from the touch, making a face at their mockery, there's very little space for him to go. But The Son's feelings are once again the least of Tangerine's concerns.

"Lemon, where's the briefcase?" Having finally looked everywhere he could think of from his seat twice, Tangerine finally caves and asks his brother, hoping for a simple, pleasant answer despite the discomfort rising in him.

"Oh, I stashed it," Lemon's answer is far too casual for someone who assumedly would also like to end today with all limbs and extremities still firmly attached.

"The case, Lemon," he hisses, leaning forward as his hands are clasped on the table in an effort to mask his frustration, "go get me the fucking case." At least Lemon takes him seriously enough in this moment to stand and see about collecting the case. The minute he's is out of earshot, however, The Son turns on Tangerine.

"He doesn't know you have shit taste in women too, does he?"

Tangerine's blood runs cold.

"Fucking excuse you?" Tangerine tries playing dumb and defensive, but there's nothing teasing nor hesitant in the cold look The Son gives him. Too specific, said with too much confidence; it's not an accusation, it's a fact of which The Son is certain.

Obnoxious bastard, Tangerine is furious to think to himself, immediately followed by how the hell could he be so sure? In the brief few minutes they'd spent with Clementine, he was sure they'd been on the same wavelength considering the situation, both so careful to not even so much as imply a less than platonic history, making only incidental or purposefully discrete contact if any. Nothing had been incriminating in hindsight, Tangerine's hand on her thigh completely hidden, perhaps even something of a power play given the situation, an attempt to keep her in line, like his touch would remind her what he was capable of. It had worked; if nothing else it had worked to keep her from making a scene, but that left only one conclusion to be drawn. Because The Son had seen in minutes what Tangerine can tell Lemon has always been oblivious to. Despite all the half-truths and obvious contempt he now held for her, The Son knew Clementine better than either of them would ever let on, and it had left Tangerine compromised.

Fuck.

"You're a liability," The Son continues maliciously, like Tangerine's inner monologue was shouting loud enough to hear, "to my father, to your partner;" he doesn't pull his punches, "Clementine preys on weak links."

"Suppose that's why she got with you in the first place, huh frog boy?" Even Tangerine's biting use of the nickname doesn't seem to faze The Son in this moment. I'm not going to smack The White Death's son.

"Your denial makes you a fucking idiot," he spits in response, "how have you not realised you were set up?"

"If this is a little test from your daddy dear, Lemon and I are more than up to the challenge."

"New. York." The Son overemphasises his words as if speaking to a child, but the beginnings of a realisation flicker to life in the back of Tangerine's mind. New York; the month with Clementine, she died in front of them, she's actually alive and here and is actually a deadly operative. Three thoughts he knew revolved around each other, but part of him didn't want to think about connecting just yet.

"It has a name," The Son continues when all the reaction Tangerine gives is to frown, "I can't recall, but my father liked to give these contracts to Clementine. Delicate matters; thieving, killing, blackmail, all sorts of variations with one commonality that made Clementine especially effective," he's dancing around the idea by now, waiting to see how long it takes for the dots to connect, "sweet-something, I think. Like honey."

"A honeypot?" Tangerine deadpans. It hasn't quite clicked yet; denial is a hell of a drug, "you think Clementine was running a honeypot while we were all in New York? What, on our target? I highly doubt it; The Scorpion kills her competition, always has, everyone knows that."

For a very long moment The Son gives Tangerine a calculating look, eyes narrow and disparaging. Whatever it is he may be looking for in Tangerine, he seems to come up with something he doesn't like. When he smiles, however, it's cold and cruel.

"So you think Clementine fucked you in New York because she loved you?"

Because there's the obvious answer; no, fucking of course not. Because they knew each other for a month, and it was never anything serious, and the hurt- the anger is easily justifiable given the context. There's the scathing 'is that what you believed? Is that why you're like this?' but even in his mind it sounds too defensive, too much at an attempt to deflect. He won't lash out, it's too telling, he's better than that. So he also finds himself considering; no it wasn't bloody love, but frankly I've never been able to explain why I gave a shit about her, since I can't say that for many people who aren't my brother, and to find out that it was all by some malicious design is taking some time to sink in.

Tangerine's expression is carefully neutral, refusing to give any sort of reaction to the question despite how close he was internally to strangling The Son himself.

And then there's the truth. The ego-shattering truth. If he'd never seen her again, Tangerine knows he would have gone to his grave believing in everything Clementine had said and done in New York.

It had felt like Clementine would have done anything he asked, which, in hindsight, makes Tangerine feel sick to his stomach. His ego had soaked up her attention, her praise, her willingness to fall into bed with him without asking questions about the blood stain on his shoes. The way she'd looked at him, eager to please, always ready to help him the moment he walked into the hotel and spotted him from the front desk, she was charmingly innocent, full of puppy love and useful information; he'd taken advantage of one to get the other. Leading her on was merely resource management, testing how useful she could be; information was one thing, but Tangerine was nothing if not resourceful.

It only takes a week for him to be sure, the first week of a month-long delicate operation. The fight wasn't part of that operation, the fight was a point of pride at a local pub that wasn't any real threat beyond some superficial wounds. Still, the pretty hostess whose been unexpectedly warm and eager to accommodate him looked concerned as he'd made a frustrated beeline for the elevator, looking markedly more dishevelled than when he'd left that afternoon.

"If there's anything you need, sir, please let us know!" She'd called, while he'd thrown her a tight smile, stepping into the elevator and rapidly jabbing at the button for his floor.

But fine, he'd reasoned upon getting back to his infuriatingly mild hotel room and poorly stocked medical kit, he calls the front desk. If he's making choices to suit his own pride and ego today, he could start on properly securing an informant.

Clementine had her own medical supplies and a steady hand. Clementine never took off her gloves because she claimed her prosthetics were cold to the touch without them. Clementine's laugh was as bright and refreshing as her namesake. Clementine had blushed when she admitted to wearing nice underwear since she'd first seen him in the hotel as a form of wishful thinking. Clementine had been pliant and willing beneath him, and Tangerine, who spent his whole life taking orders and making sure his partner's needs were seen to, if only to keep up his reputation, had finally felt as if he'd met someone whose joy came from pleasing his every desire. It had been unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

In the end, Tangerine had been happy as the bad guy in Clementine's story, the bastard who lead her on, manipulated her, used her, and gotten her killed, it was a role he was comfortable in at the end of the day. It had been safer. She hadn't been a loose end. He didn't have to think about if she had survived and he had just left --

Yes, he would have thought she fucked him in New York because she loved him, but that was the point! That was always the fucking point! The distrust weaving through his memories grows thorns. He need to stop thinking about it; The Son, across the table, can probably see in his eyes that he's gone to New York, just as Lemon had pointed out before. He hates the look in that bastard's eyes; Tangerine's thoughts are a mess, growing traitorous, jealous teeth when he thinks too hard about The Son and his questions and his fucking history with Clementine.

The truth really did make him feel like a liability.

And he has no real answer.

When the phone goes off it feels like an actual godsend. Thank fuck. Thoughts on more immediate, less loaded things.

Unknown caller; undoubtably one of The White Death's associates checking in, making sure everything was under control. All things considered, The Son was secured in his seat, Lemon would be back with the case in a moment, and Tangerine was optimistic that he and his brother were more than capable of stopping Clementine if she did end up trying anything.

Tangerine answer the phone. It's an excuse to get up, get even a few feet away from The Son even just for a few moments. If he ever sees that smug, knowing look on that bastard's face again, it'll be too soon.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x oc #tangerine x reader #bullet train 2022 #bullet train #bullet train oc #tangerine bullet train x oc #bullet train movie #lemon #lemon bullet train #tangerine imagine #bullet train x reader #bullet train imagine #the son #the son bullet train #its in my nature #tangerine x clementine

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 2 years

Text

John (the Apostle) | No Matter The Cost | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “I am afraid of losing you.” (Platonic)

Requested: Yes

You overhear a painful message from Jesus to His Apostles.

You peel some dried-up dough from under your fingernail before taking a basket of freshly baked bread from Eden, who gives you a small smile. The scent wafts into your nose and isn’t exactly helping your currently high appetite – you haven’t eaten since yesterday.

Jesus sits at the head of the table whilst his followers sit around Him, eyes focused upon their Rabbi. You carry in the food and place it on the table under a grateful cheering of the men. Andrew rubs his hands together excitedly whilst Big James and John bicker over who gets to take a piece first, Philip giving you a kind smile.

“There it is, the famous rye loaf of (Y/n)! I’ve been hearing so many good stories from John about that, and I’ve been looking forward to try it out ever since!”

You flush a little at the compliment and catch John’s eye across the table, who swats his brother’s arm away from the plucked-apart bread on the table before giving you a playful shrug. “What? I’m a fan! Everyone is.”

Curtsying, you step backwards. “Well, I hope you will all enjoy it, then.”

Philip chuckles. “It seems that I’ll have to deal with just crumbs at this point!”

Big James and John are still fighting over a chunk with a slightly burnt crust – “The best part!”, according to James. You reach forward and pry it from his fingers before he can realise what you’re doing, and you toss it to Philip across the room. He gracefully catches it, the other men howling with laughter at the scene.

“That’s what you get!” Zee cackles, “The early bird catches the worm.”

“Uh, that is not how the saying goes,” Matthew corrects, but is ignored.

Jesus laughs and gives you a nod. “Thank you for the food, (Y/n).” You give a small bow and head back to the kitchen, where Eden is just done loading a bowl with grapes.

“I heard a lot of commotion about your loaf.” she grins, “It’s popular.”

“I should start a business to support the ministry.”

Eden’s eyes widen as she gives you a surprised look. “Oh, I like that idea!” She goes to bring over the grapes. Jesus’ voice drifts from the room as he opens a conversation about the camp that has been erected on the other side of town, and how the new attention cast upon them by Rome may grow to be a problem.

You carry a few cups inside to catch a few lines of conversation, putting them on the table in front of Jesus, Little James and Thaddeus.

“...Zee informed me just this morning that a few members of his former Order have even journeyed here.” Your heart clenches uncomfortably inside your chest. You’ve heard about the Zealots and know that it means serious business.

Andrew pipes up: “It would appear as if we’re building an army, teacher.” The comment causes panic in your chest - an army? - but Jesus chuckles lightly, calming your nerves.

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it. The other way to look at it is My way.”

Simon coughs and clears his throat. “The correct way, you mean.”

Jesus acknowledges it. You head out of the room to assist Eden further, but it’s difficult to not eavesdrop on the conversation taking place. “Those people are like those in regions all over. They are not an army… Not yet.”

You look at Eden with worry over your features, whispering to her. “Are they building an army? Do they have to fight? But… That is dangerous!” She shrugs and shakes her head, knowing as little as you.

Jesus continues his explanation. “They are in need of rescue, and you are going to help me rescue them.” A brief silence, before he softly adds, “Different kind of rescue, Zee.”

His voice increases in volume so you don’t have to strain so hard to hear, and Eden continues bringing food into the room. “It is not sustainable for me to do all the preaching, all the healing and ministry. I’ve called you to Simon’s home today, and thank you Eden, for hosting, because our ministry would only grow, and we want it to grow, till the end of the age.”

You listen on with bated breath, plucking a loose string on your apron. Eden returns to the kitchen and gives you a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

Nodding, you turn to the counter, but your friend does not appear fully convinced.

“There will be many more followers, and like those not here, all will have roles and responsibilities. Most will be disciples, students.” He pauses. “But I have chosen you twelve as my Apostles.”

Several beats of silence fill the room. You take a sharp breath. It means that everything will become entirely different from this point forward.

“You’re sending us?” Big James asks with slight puzzlement in his voice. You move closer to the room, occupying yourself with cutting up a cucumber.

“An apostle is the same as a messenger, and—”

“I know what it means, Matthew, that’s why I’m asking.”

A brief pause before Jesus speaks up. “You are my leaders.” He says, “And for this mission I have for you it’s best that you spread out and not be concentrated in one place.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Andrew speaks exactly your thoughts.

“I’m going home to Nazareth for a time,” Jesus clarifies, “and while I’m there, I’m sending you out in every direction, two by two, specifically to our people only.”

You dare to peek around the corner to see the confused faces of the disciples stare back at Jesus. “Every direction, Rabbi?” Thomas queries.

“Yes, but not to the Gentiles, not yet, that will come in time. But to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, just as Joshua led the twelve Tribes to take the Promised Land. You will proclaim as you go: ‘The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.’”

Jesus’ words cause goosebumps to spread over your skin, your breath hitching in your throat.

“And while you are on this mission, you will heal the sick and the lame by anointing them with oil. You will cast out demons, you will cleanse—” His voice stops and for a few long seconds, He looks at the frightened faces of his followers. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Matthew lets out a noise. “Uh, could… Could you just repeat that one more time?” Eden brushes past you with her hands full again.

Jesus softly breathes a laugh. “I’m sending you out, two by two, proclaiming as you go: ‘The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.’”

Eden turns to head back to you and there is bewilderment visible in her eyes. She seems to suddenly catch the gravity as well.

“Heal the sick, cast out demons.”

Simon’s voice is barely a whisper. “How soon are we talking about here?”

“Ah… There is that word again. I’ll get to that, Simon.”

You toss the final slices of cucumber into the bowl. Your knees feel weak at the dejection coursing through you whilst a lump forms in your throat. Are your closest friends really going to leave you so soon to perform such dangerous acts?

But what if something happens?

You head into the room with the food and put it on the table.

Philip leans forward. “Hold on… Heal the sick?”

“Cast out… Demons… ” Thad meekly adds.

“While you are on this mission, I grant you this authority. Someday, you will have it all the time.”

“Was there a ceremony I missed?” Nathanael quizzes, munching on a grape.

“This is it.” Jesus tells him.

Nathanael shrugs. “I don’t feel any different.”

“I don’t need you to feel anything to do great things.” Jesus reassures him.

John inhales sharply, whilst you collect the empty bowls to refill them. “With all due respect, Rabbi, we’ve only just begun as students, we don’t nearly qualify enough. Why would you need us for this work?”

Before Jesus can respond, Zee does. “He doesn’t need us. He wants us.”

“Thank you, Zee,” Jesus warmly comments. “Very good. John, if I needed religious teachers or qualified students for My ministry, I wouldn’t have chosen…” He gestures towards the room, where soft laughs erupt. You can’t fight your smile either as you disappear back to see where you can assist Eden - she is cleaning out some clay cups.

“Well, you get the point.”

“Can we get back to the part about healing the sick for one second?” Philip queries.

Jesus doesn’t answer it, instead gives instructions. “You will take nothing with you for the journey except a staff– No bread, no bag, no money. Not even Salome’s food.” You huff a chuckle, for you can vividly imagine John’s disappointed face at the mention that he cannot take one of his mother’s cinnamon rolls with him.

“Wear sandals and do not bring an extra tunic.”

“We cannot even bring a change of clothes?” Little James asks.

You’re starting to like this idea less and less. Not only do your friends have to carry out extremely controversial and potentially dangerous tasks, they can also not be outfitted beforehand.

“Even the wandering cynic philosophers carry an extra tunic,” Matthew mentions.

“Yes, they do, and I’d like to distinguish you from said cynics. They also carry beggar’s bags for people to put gold and silver coins into, and you will not do that. You received without paying, now give without pay. Whatever city or village you enter, find out who is worthy and stay there until you depart. And if anyone should not receive you or listen to your words, shake the dust off your feet and leave that house or town. Do not waste your time.”

You turn to Eden who looks at you with an equally as worried look on her face. “What does it mean?” you whisper at her, “What will they do when no one wants to feed them? They’ll starve! A-And-And, what if it is cold outside, and they have no place to sleep, then they will freeze to death!”

Eden puts a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm your growing nerves, but it barely helps as you rant on, “And how about the Romans? What if they get arrested and tried before we can even realise that they’ve been imprisoned!” The voices behind you are a blur as Jesus continues His instructions, but you can’t pay attention to them anymore, panic swelling in your gut as you ramble on. “What if they don’t return, and then we cannot find them because we don’t know exactly where they are! Or what if they get kidnapped by somebody, or-or-or what if someone gets an infection? They won’t be able to pay for a physician!”

Jesus’ voice suddenly cuts the air, your breath hitching in your throat. Locking eyes with Eden, you can see her pain.

“Listen carefully, all of you. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”

“So… You’re saying we could die .”

The moment the words fall from John’s lips – your best friend John’s lips – a gasp leaves your throat at the realisation. With a hand clasped over your mouth, you run out of the house, Eden reaching out for you whilst calling out your name.

“(Y/n)!”

Tears burn behind your eyes and blur your vision. You bump into a few random passersby and mutter half-hearted apologies as a sob gets stuck in your throat. Eventually, you dive into an alleyway and let out a wail, pushing your back against the wall as sorrow overtakes you. Your knees give out as you sink to the ground, burying your face in your hands.

You can’t lose them. You can’t lose your closest friends whom you grew up with.

You can’t lose John , who was always there for you throughout your childhood, when he brought you with him on his fishing trips, where you’d talk for hours gazing at the stars. You can’t lose him, the one who comforted you when your father passed away and who stuck up for you when you got bullied at the town square. There is nothing in you that can stand the thought of—

“(Y/n)?” With stained cheeks, you sniffle and look up at a concerned John, whose form casts a shadow over you as he leans against the wall. “You ran off, are you alright?”

Your bottom lip trembles. “Do I look alright to you?” You don’t mean to snap but all frustration pours out. “How could I ever move on if you or James died out there, John?!”

“Hey, hush now… It’s alright. Come on.” He holds out his hand and helps you up, wrapping his arms around you as you quietly cry against his chest. John rubs comforting circles over your back whilst your shoulders shake. “It’s alright, let it out. I get it.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust Jesus,” you whimper, “It’s just… I am afraid of losing you. You’re my best friend, John!”

“I know. I know.” he whispers. “I’ll be fine.”

You dig your fingers into his back. “How can you be certain?” you breathe, “Anything can happen! Jesus didn’t deny that you could die!”

“I indeed didn’t say such a thing, but if you could hear Me out, I would really appreciate that.”

Next to you, Jesus appears, a kind, patient smile on his face. You wipe your nose on your sleeve and try to gather yourself.

“I understand that it is difficult for you to hear. Eden is also upset, so you’re not alone in that. Saying goodbye to your friends for an undisclosed amount of time is very challenging.”

John wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer, earning a watery smile from you. Jesus lets out a soft laugh. “You may count yourselves blessed with a friendship like that. A lot of people need someone to build their trust upon. One of the many reasons that I’m sending my Disciples out to tell others about the redemption found in the Kingdom of Heaven. But there are also other important things that people need to hear. Things that may be hard, for people don’t always want to hear the truth.”

“Which is what frightens me.” you admit, “Th-There are evil people out there. And the Romans, they—”

“There are, (Y/n). But they also need to hear the good news. And they will, eventually. I do not expect you to comprehend it, My dear friend. It is a mystery to most. All you need to do is trust in Me. Your heart is all I require.”

Jesus’ eyes are so warm as he explains Himself in such a non-accusatorial way that you nearly tear up again.

“It is okay to be upset about it. My Father sees your frustration, but He will turn it into joy. He will handle it. This world, this suffering, it is only temporary. What we need to spread is the word about my Father’s eternal Kingdom that will come after this life, after everything has come to pass, that is way more important. I’ll need your friend John, but I also need you .”

He puts a hand on your arm and gently squeezes. “I see your pain. I feel your pain. But what you will get in return will be worth it, no matter the cost. You may not understand that now, but one day, you will.”

You look at John, who smiles at you. “Imagine the stories you’ll be able to tell each other, hm? It will bring you two only closer.”

You know that Jesus is right. Of course He is right. You inhale deeply and give a small nod.

“I’m terrified,” you admit, “But I know that Adonai is always with me.”

“In both life and death.” Jesus adds, smiling softly. “Now, John, why don’t you give it to her?”

Your friend blinks in confusion. “What do you mean, Teacher?”

“In your pocket.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot!”

Jesus chuckles as John reaches into the pocket of his tunic and pulls out a chunk of leftover rye bread. He hands it to you, smiling. “I managed to tuck this away for you. These men can be ruthless when it comes to food.”

You give a roll of your eye but smile gratefully. “Well, I’d count you amongst them, too. You pinched James’ arm to get to the crumbs!”

“Ah, yeah, I should apologise to him for that.”

The three of you laugh as you take a bite, enjoying your first meal of the day whilst slowly retreating to Simon and Eden’s house, unhurried for just a little while longer.

#john the apostle #the chosen x reader #the chosen #fanfiction #reader insert #john x reader #john x you #john the apostle x reader #john the apostle x you #platonic

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