#leaving it there for tonight - dribbles adventures tomorrow!

[blackjackkent]

Well, after all that happened, Rakha is considerably less enthused about the rest of the circus, and presumably Wyll's lost a lot of his excitement as well. Everyone's VERY on edge knowing that Orin is aware of their presence and could be in the form of anyone around them.

Someone in the group - probably Minthara - suggests that they've spent enough time frittering around, but Rakha, spiraling with fear-anger and adrenaline, snarls that they came here so Wyll could see Dribbles and they WILL SEE DRIBBLES, which doesn't really add to the festive mood but nevertheless ensures that they remain at the circus.

A few other adventures on the way to the clown show:

Akabi the djinn immediately takes his life into his own hands by greeting Rakha with "APPROACH, UGLY ONE." Rakha, who has had a very long day, immediately prepares to attack; the djinn finds her courage funny and invites her to spin his wheel of prizes. "SPIN TO WIN PRIZES BEYOND YOUR TINY IMAGINATION AND MAKE YOUR MISERABLE LIFE MORE BEARABLE." Rakha doesn't like him. The Wild Magic dialogue option here is pretty amusing, though: [WILD MAGIC] "At least this time I'm *choosing* to spin the wheel. Let's do it." Needless to say, she doesn't win, and also biffs the perception check necessary to determine that the game is not on the up-and-up. She stalks off irritably to the sound of the djinn's cheerful bellowing from behind her: "ALAS, NO JACKPOT FOR YOU, UGLY ONE!"

She spends some time talking to the mud mephit and earth elemental couple, Stoney and Boney, who make their living selling bespoke sculpture work. She's not particularly interested in the offer of a statue of herself for their camp, but does perhaps find something mildly touching in the absolute devotion Boney the mephit has for his enormous, hulking wife. "She's a lot... bigger than you," she says thoughtfully, reflecting on the more than a foot of height she has on Wyll. "I know," Boney says enthusiastically. "It's *wondrous.*" Rakha shoots a look at Wyll sideways and finds that he's grinning a little to himself.

She's mildly amused by the little kobold named Popper who sells random goods at a nearby booth. It seems very excited to see her, which is unusual enough to be striking. "Oh! Oh! A strange one! A never-seen-before one! Hungry? Want a treato? I has lots of treatos! And magics. And junks I finds. Don't worry - I only takes junks from dead people. I is nice." Rakha buys some camp supplies from him. ("Yes! I has lots of stuffs - just for you!")

They briefly encounter the apparent leader of the circus, a woman named Lucretious, who is engaged in teaching a set of (apparently recalcitrant) skeletons how to do a dance number. Rakha's somewhat fascinated by watching this, as the necromantic magic at work puts on a show for her that is far more interesting than the dancing itself. She's more than a little bemused by Lucretious herself, who is a very big personality, boisterous, and makes mention of inviting Rakha to her tent for "wine," but luckily has no time to actually follow up on the invitation and make Rakha have to figure out how she would respond to it.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

They have a wet dream in your lap - Genshin Impact pt. 1

Pairings: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao, Venti, and Aether x reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, somnophilia, clothed humping/grinding

Genre/Format: Smut; Scenarios

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

After a long day spent adventuring and completing commissions, you and your companion set up camp for the night. Opting for a secluded spot inside of a cave, the two of you cooked dinner together and chatted about your day and the plans for tomorrow. It was a particularly chilly night, even within the shelter of the cave and a small campfire you had cobbled together to keep you both warm, so your companion decided to cuddle up to you and fall asleep sitting in your lap

You didn't really mind, it had been a long day and snuggling up together would keep you warm throughout the night. Though when they began to stir in their sleep, you truly didn't expect what would come next....

He was sleeping peacefully, a rare occurrence seeing as he didn't actually need to sleep the way humans do, when soft moans began leaving his lips. Wanderer was now squirming in your lap, grasping at the hand wrapped around his waist. Was he having a nightmare? You knew he was prone to those rather frequently...

The way his thighs squeezed together and the whine that filled the cave made you realize that this wasn't a nightmare... He was definitely having a wet dream, and with the way his ass grinded against you, you were quickly becoming aroused too

You tested the waters by placing a hand on his thigh, his head pressed back against your shoulder and he gasped in his sleep. Your hand trailed upwards until you brushed over his clothed cock, already semi-hard and dribbling a bit of precum, twitching from the tiny bit of contact

Wanderer humped at the hand that was now cupping his erection, applying just enough pressure to satisfy his needs. He continued rutting against you and you lifted your hips slightly, just to feel a bit of friction and press your own member against his ass

His thrusts sped up as he neared his climax, his breath tickling your skin as he released sweet moans into the crook of your neck. You hummed in satisfaction when you felt the growing wet spot from his orgasm, his muscles going slack as he relaxed against you once more

-

Xiao didn't like to sleep, preferring to watch over you all night while you get ample sleep. Tonight, however, you managed to convince him to rest with you. His back pressed against your chest, sitting between your legs while you leaned against the wall, you began to doze off once you were sure he had fallen asleep

You pressed your lips against his neck, leaving a few kisses and nuzzling closer, the soft gasp that left him next caught you off guard. You pressed another kiss to a particularly sensitive spot on his neck and Xiao suddenly moaned out your name

Considering how your darling yaksha usually ended up having terrible nightmares, you figured you would try to help him have a pleasant one for once. He whined when you began sucking on his neck, leaving marks on all of his sweet spots. Your hand slipped in his pants, quickly finding his arousal and palming him over his underwear

Xiao's hips bucked into your every touch, chasing every instance of contact in order to bring himself closer to orgasm. You pushed his underwear to the side and started rubbing him faster, massaging the head of his cock with your palm and using his precum as lube, creating lewd wet sounds as you jerked him off

Xiao cried out your name as he came all over your hand, his cum leaving a wet mess inside of his pants

-

The rain poured down, lulling the archon in your arms to sleep rather quickly. Venti had made himself comfortable in your lap, straddling your thighs and hugging you close, burying his face in your neck before dozing off. The sound of raindrops hitting the ground outside put you in a sort of trance, only breaking out of it when you felt Venti shift in your lap

It sounded like he whined in his sleep, but you weren't too sure since it was muffled. Then he shifted again, wiggling his hips and clutching your shirt tighter. Another whine escaped him, and you were sure that's what it was this time. He seemed restless, wiggling around more and more, rubbing his face against you like a cat

You whispered his name, your breath fanning against the shell of his ear, “Hey, Venti? Honey? ” That's when he suddenly thrust his hips forward, gasping at the friction. You were a bit taken aback by all of this, though still turned on nonetheless

How could you not be when your darling was making such sweet noises and humping you in his sleep? You couldn't just let him suffer like this. So your hands slid down his back until they reached his soft ass and squeezed, pushing him further against your clothed member

Venti instinctually began grinding against you, continuing to moan as you dry humped him back. The friction eventually tipped him over the edge, crying out your name as he spilled all over himself, your own orgasm following soon after. You were definitely going to tease him about this when he wakes up

-

Camping with him was a regular occurrence, you were traveling across seven nations with him, after all. Aether cozying up in your lap wasn't surprising either, the days were long and tiring and given how much you two had seen together, most nights he just wanted to collapse against you and drift away for a while

You held him close, arms cradled around his sleeping form and his head resting on your chest. He remained relatively still for several minutes, then he started squirming a bit, sighing and nuzzling his face into your chest. You rubbed his arm reassuringly, hoping that he wasn't about to have another nightmare about his sister

Aether's sighs slowly turned into what sounded like... moaning? Soft moans paired with his thighs squeezing together as he continued to stir in his sleep. It dawned on you that this might not be a nightmare... The sound of him calling your name drew your attention to his face, scrunched up in frustration

Aether grasped at your shirt, his hips bucking at the air. You took the unconscious hint and placed a hand in between his legs, he was already hard. He thrust into your touch, even with the layer of clothing dulling the sensation of your hand on him, he still cried out for you. You moved your hand along the outline of his dick, jerking him off as best as you could in this position

Your pace increased until Aether's hips stuttered forward, keening as he made a mess of his pants, your harsh stroking ceased and allowed him to go slack. You chuckled at how cute he was, desperate for relief even in his sleep. Kissing the top of his head, you adjusted yourself before squeezing him closer and drifting off to sleep

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[thefahc-motheringvampire]

Okay so I accidentally deleted it, but @watchthe-queenconquer submitted an ask about Geoff and Jack adopting Gavin so he can’t get deported, in the same vein as my headcanon about them being married. And uh, my hand slipped.

FAHC headcanon: Gavin was adopted by Geoff and Jack.

He cheekily calls them ‘mum’ and ‘dad’, and everyone else thinks he’s joking. Even when he insists he’s being completely serious, can anyone actually take Gavin at his word? Geoff calls him ‘son’, when the mood strikes him, but that’s not really a clear indication of anything.

But that’s how the brit ended up joining the crew. It’s still the early days, “crew” was a nice word, it was more like a group of loose affiliates Geoff and Jack could more or less depend on to not fuck them over. They were moving up in the world, but still had a long climb to the top. At least they had a steady base of operations now (two bedrooms and the landlord accepted cash). But back to Gavin: they had stumbled on him by accident. A job required a hacker to get past a security system, and while they were fretting about what the fuck they were going to do about that, this idiot descended from the heavens and tried to boost Jack’s car.

He was unsuccessful, obviously, losing quite quickly in the ensuing fistfight. When Jack threatened to report him to the cops (a laugh in and of itself, like she was going to call the police), the kid completely broke down and promised he would do anything she wanted in penance. Among the blubbered offerings were his skills with computers, and Jack decided to be merciful and accept his proposition.

That started their acquaintance with Gavin. He did a good job and seemed eager to work for them, so they called him whenever they needed a hacker. Kid didn’t have a car though, always needed to be picked up and dropped off. Geoff joked with Jack that they were picking up their son from school.

Something that nagged at Geoff though was that they rarely dropped him off at the same place twice. He would have guessed homeless, but Gavin was always clean and dressed nicely. Better than Geoff was, usually. When he asked about it, Gavin brushed it off; he wasn’t exactly here legally, so he was couch surfing until he could figure out the best way to secure citizenship. He was only 17 after all, and he looked it. It was proving difficult to forge his documents.

One night they’re back at the apartment after finishing a job. It’s pissing rain outside and everyone is soaked (because SOMEONE forgot where they parked the car and Jack swears it’s the last time she’ll let Geoff drive). Geoff’s in a good mood though, they were successful and there’ll be a big payout waiting for them tomorrow. He cracks out the beers, but notices Gavin edging his way to the door.

“Should probably pop off, friends’re expectin’ me,” he offers lamely. Geoff starts feeling around for his keys (which are in Jack’s pocket but he’s already forgotten her oath), but Gavin stops him, “Oh don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not far, I can walk.”

Geoff won’t hear it though, because despite his best intentions he’s developed a soft spot for Gavin and his well being, and insists on driving. Gavin seems uncomfortable with it, but goes along because what else is he going to do? So Geoff drives him and Gavin waits on the curb until he’s gone (“It’s just British etiquette mate”). While he’s driving home he gets a text from Jack demanding ribs from that place across town (”you owe me for making me walk around in the rain asshole”), so he sighs and continues his adventure. Good thing he was such a devoted husband.

40 minutes later he’s on his way back, passing through the same neighborhood he dropped Gavin off in. He’s surprised to see a familiar skinny silhouette walking in the rain. Geoff slows the car and rolls down the window, calling out Gavin’s name. The kid jumps and turns, and has a weird mix of relief and trepidation on his face. Closer up, Geoff is able to see a puffy eye and a split lip.

“Hey man, you okay?” Geoff is all fatherly concern and friendly confusion.

“Wot…oh yeah I’m toppers. Just uh…bit of a tiff with my friend, yeah? Boys’ll be boys, you know how it is.” Gavin is smiling but it isn’t reaching his eyes. The rain continues to pour, making his hair plaster around his face and add to the pathetic look.

“Do you need a place to stay tonight?” That’s not the question Geoff wants to ask. He wants to ask where this asshole who thinks he can beat up on Gavin is. But the kid seems out of sorts and Geoff doesn’t want to upset him further.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll figure something out. Thanks though.” As if he really believes Geoff is just going to leave him there in the rain with a busted face and no place to go.

“Gavin, get in the fucking car.” Kingpin Geoff is out, and Gavin hurries to obey the strict tone. He’s quiet at first, like he’s struggling with something that needs to be said but isn’t wanted.

“I uh, don’t have any money on me, but you can take what you want from my cut of the job,” he decides on, watching Geoff carefully.

“I don’t want your money, Gavin,” the older man replies, a lot gruffer than he intended. Still in kingpin mode.

“Right,” Gavin says quietly, almost to himself, “ ‘course not.” He cheers right up after that, and begins chattering blithely about nonsense like whether or not Geoff thinks dogs know they’re dogs. The tenseness eases up. They get back to the apartment, the evening winds down, Geoff has packed away his vengeance in a box, to open later. After her ribfest Jack turns in for the night, and it’s just Geoff and Gavin sitting on the couch, watching TV.

And Geoff’s enjoying it; he likes Gavin, and there’s an anxiety in him he didn’t know he had that’s calmed tonight, because he knows the kid is safe. And he looks over and smiles at Gavin and it’s just a peaceful pure moment and it feels good.

The next thing he knows, Gavin is on top of him, hand on his crotch and kissing him. Geoff isn’t able to process exactly what’s happening, and a pulse of arousal shoots through him, responding to the kid’s touch. Gavin’s lip has re-split open and all Geoff can taste is blood. It doesn’t take his conscious brain long to kick in. He pushes Gavin off and stands up, creating some distance between them.

“What the fuck was that?” Geoff asks before he can stop himself, still not putting the pieces together. He’s looking down at Gavin and the kid looks scared out of his mind, and Geoff knows that feeling. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me. Please daddy, just don’t hurt me. And then it dawns on him, and he’s sitting down heavily, head in his hands. He realizes what Gavin thought the price for a place to sleep was.

Several emotions wash over him all at once. Anger. Grief. Disgust. It takes him a second to collect himself, to stifle the feelings in his throat threatening to bubble out. Next to him Gavin hasn’t moved, and the blood has started to dribble down his chin.

“Are you mad at me Geoff?” Gavin asks in a tiny voice that absolutely breaks Geoff’s heart. It helps ease the grip around his throat his anger currently has.

“No Gavin. I’m not mad at you.” He’s pinching the bridge of his nose and his eyes are squeezed shut, he doesn’t trust himself to look at the kid again, not yet, “is this…what always happens when you need a place to sleep?”

“Yeah. They don’t pay me but they buy me stuff sometimes.” Gavin’s unfrozen, but he’s keeping his distance from Geoff, making himself as small as physically possible at the other end of the couch. Eying up the door, calculating an escape route.

“Is this…something you want to be doing?” Geoff doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“You having a laugh? ‘Course I don’t want to be fucking men my dad’s age. Don’t really wanna be fucking men at all, honestly. But if that’s what I gotta do to survive, it’s what I’ll do.” There it is. The anger’s back, threatening to overwhelm Geoff. He wants to know who did this, who forced this kid to believe that no kindness comes without a price. Seventeen goddamn years old. All Geoff wants in this moment is to burn this entire city to the fucking ground.

Instead he takes a deep breath and finally trusts himself to look at Gavin. The terror’s gone but the kid’s guard is still up, “Okay listen up. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Geoff starts, and he can practically see Gavin shut down, “but if you need a place to stay and don’t want to fuck anybody to get it, you can crash with us. As long as you want. No strings.”

“For real?” Gavin’s afraid to trust what Geoff says, and it cuts deep.

“For real.”

That’s how Gavin starts living with them. Geoff has a talk with Jack, and they take the money they were saving for a new car and put it to a new use. It’s a few weeks until things come to fruition, but when they do Geoff is excited like a kid at Christmas and it takes everything in him to not ruin the surprise.

“Wot’s all this then?” Gavin asks, coming into the kitchen. There’s a questionably made cake courtesy of Jack (but Geoff helped decorate) and a neat stack of papers at Gavin’s place.

“Well if you’re going to join our crew there’s some paperwork you have to submit first,” Jack quips, smirking. 

It doesn’t take the golden boy long realize she’s joking, but he’s not getting the joke, “These are adoption papers?”

“Geoff and I have begun to long for the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Yours are a bit bigger than we’d like, but we’ll make do,” Jack is teasing this out as long as she can, much to the torment of Geoff next to her.

“I don’t get it.”

Geoff finally bursts, “you won’t be deportable if we adopt you, dummy.”

“You’re serious?” Gavin is incredulous, still waiting for the other boot to drop. People in his world weren’t ever so generous.

Geoff’s in the middle of telling Gavin about how he married Jack, how much worse off could he do, when Gavin hug-tackles him. He’s trying hard not to cry, but Geoff can feel two wet spots growing on his shirt. Which is just as well, because Geoff’s crying too. And his little family grows by one.

[bootz-n-catz]

Title: Why’d You Come In Here (Lookin’ Like That)

Chapter 1: Waitin’ for the Day

Rating: M

Summary: Waverly is drowning in student debt, can't find a good date to save her life and wants something different out of her life. When Chrissy approaches her to be on 'The Bachelorette', she takes it as her chance to do something adventurous, find some financial stability and maybe find love along the way. But what she didn't realize is that the owner of the ranch they're staying on, Nicole Haught, would be an unlikely contender for her heart.

You can read it below or on AO3

Waverly used the tab to peel open the thick cardboard envelope and peered inside. There, nestled in the package, she saw what she had been working towards for four years. Four years, one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of debt, and countless sleepless nights later and there it was. Her diploma. Waverly pulled it carefully from the envelope, the paper flimsy in her hands.

There was that swell of pride in her chest upon seeing her diplomna, but also something that felt a lot like...disappointment? Sure, the graduation ceremony and everything was nice. But receiving the diploma in the mail was a bit anticlimactic at best.

“Welp,” she said as her eyes shot into her hairline, “There it is, Waverly, all your hard work. Right. In. Your. Hands.”

She curled the corner a little bit just to feel it bend under her finger. With a sigh, Waverly slipped the diploma back into the envelope and set it on the kitchen table. She quickly flipped through the other mail but saw nothing of interest so she tossed it onto the table with her diploma. Specifically, there was no mail from the prestigious scholarship fund she was waiting on. Whether or not she got it meant whether or not she was going to Grad school.

Everything else was in place. She’d gotten accepted to her dream school, already had an internship lined up...the only thing she needed was that scholarship for everything to be just perfect.

“Hey, baby girl,” Wynonna groaned as she padded down the stairs, her socked feet thumping as they went. Wynonna trudged up the Waverly and kissed the side of her head before shuffling her way towards the coffee maker. “What ‘ave you got planned for today?”

“Besides trying not to think why I haven’t heard from the scholarship people yet?” Waverly sighed, watching as Wynonna poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’m just going to get coffee with Chrissy while she’s in town.”

“Mm, before she goes back to whatever her new fancy job is?” Wynonna said before sitting down at the table.

“Yeah. Apparently she got a big promotion and wants to tell me all about it,” Waverly said with a shrug. Waverly let herself dwell on the twinge of jealousy that Chrissy already had a great job and had avoided college all together. Chrissy was in the entertainment business, something that one could argue didn’t need a college degree for. Waverly knew for a fact there was no way she was getting a job as a researcher without as many degrees as she could manage to get. So even if it was hard to not compare herself to Chrissy...she tried not to.

Wynonna leaned over the mug as if to let the steam from the coffee warm her face. “See if she’ll put my mug on a tv show,” Wynonna said with a wry smile, “Wynonna Earp, Bounty Hunter. It’s got a ring to it.”

Waverly raised an eyebrow at her sister. “You’re telling me you want to be on television?”

Wynonna frowned in thought for a moment before shaking her head. “You’re right. The world isn’t ready for me.”

“Clearly.”

Waverly’s phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket only to see that it was a notification from the dating app she had been using for the month she’d been back in Purgatory. It seemed like a stretch since she was pretty sure she had dated the only interesting people in Purgatory in high school...but she figured she’d give it a try. It was a decision she was quickly regretting.

Pete: Hey, wanna get dinner tonight? There’s a new pho place it town. It’ll be a...hot date. ;)

Waverly rolled her eyes and tried to think of a response.

“Wha’s that?” Wynonna asked already grabbing the leg of Waverly’s chair and pulling her close so that they were side by side. Wynonna leaned over Waverly’s shoulder to read the message. “Ugh, gross. Pete York? Come on, baby girl, you can do better than that.”

“I’m just going on one date,” Waverly said defensively, “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just...bored and have exhausted all other possibilities. There aren’t many dating options in a small town, you know.”

“Don’t I,” Wynonna muttered to herself as she took a long sip of her coffee.

“Plus, you never know,” Waverly said with a shrug, “He could be a perfect gentleman.”

“Famous last words,” Wynonna said with a smirk. Waverly couldn’t help but agree.

***

“Hey, Waverly,” Beth said almost breathlessly from behind the register. Waverly blinked at her a moment, her brain connecting the dots even if Beth seemed wildly out of place in an apron and behind a counter.

“Oh, hi,” Waverly said with a polite smile to cover up her shock, “I-...what are you doing here?”

“I work here now,” Beth said, “It’s part of the whole...getting our parent’s inheritance thing. We have to work a real job for like...a year.” Beth shrugged. “I figured it couldn’t be that hard to work at a coffee shop.”

Waverly’s smile started to feel strained as she kept her internal commentary to herself. “Um...how long have you been working here?”

Beth looked at the clock. “Four hours!”

“Right,” Waverly said tucking some hair behind her ear. “Can I get a green tea please?”

“Sure!” Beth said staring at the register for a beat too long before punching something in. She took her time writing the instructions on the cup and Waverly stood there with her cash out, waiting for Beth to take it. When she finally did, Waverly let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“So,” Beth started as she slowly counted out Waverly’s change, “are you in town for good?”

Waverly prickled at the thought.

For good.

In other words, had she given up on the bigger world outside of Purgatory and returned back to the comfort of her small town? Like a baby trying to crawl back into the womb?

“Um, no,” Waverly said after a moment, not adding on that she at least hoped the sentiment was true. “Just...until I start my Master’s program.”

“Well, while you’re in town would you want to...go to dinner again?” Beth asked as she handed Waverly back her change.

Waverly just stood there, palm up to cradle the crumpled bills and coins, and thought about the last time she and Beth went to dinner. It was when Waverly was back home on break during Christmas. She knew that Beth had a small crush on her since high school and admittedly Waverly had had one on her too. But being in college...high school crushes were the sort of thing that got pushed to the back of her mind. She gave it a try anyways and soon realized why her crush never blossomed into anything more.

Beth, for all her good intentions, never had experienced a day of hard work in her life. She was the definition of blessed. Waverly had had more than enough of her own tragedies in her life and they just couldn’t find anything to relate to. Except maybe being attracted to the fairer sex in a town that still thought Ellen was progressive. So when Beth asked her on a second date...Waverly quickly said no and blamed it on the fact that she was leaving for school again soon. An excuse she could no longer hide under.

“Oh,” Waverly finally managed, her mind working a thousand miles a minute for an excuse. “Well, you see, I’m really busy right now.” Waverly smiled politely but felt her stomach clench at Beth’s crestfallen look so she quickly recovered. “But text me next week and maybe we can set something up?”

Beth practically beamed and Waverly dumped her change in the tip jar. Beth was the last person that needed it, but it was the least Waverly could do knowing she was going to blow Beth off the next time she texted too.

“Sounds like a plan,” Beth said as she took Waverly’s finished tea from her coworker and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Waverly smiled before turning around and heading to the table in the corner where Chrissy was waiting for her. She let out a small breath of relief as she slid into the table.

“Beth hit on you again?” Chrissy asked with an amused tilt to her lips.

Waverly gave her a look. “She’s very nice.”

“Just keeping your one female option in town open?” Chrissy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” Waverly said taking the lid off of her tea so it could cool. “I just feel bad saying no. And, if you must know, I have a date tomorrow.”

“Oo, with who?”

“Pete.”

“York?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“He’s not that bad,” Waverly insisted. “Between you and Wynonna you’d think he was the biggest loser in town.”

“No, his brother is,” Chrissy teased.

Waverly rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and leaned back in her seat. “Enough about my non-existent love life. Tell me about your new exciting job.”

Chrissy got a sparkle in her eyes that Waverly knew all too well. It reminded her of the time that Chrissy convinced Waverly to try out for the cheer team “for fun” and she ended up a cheerleader for all four years of high school.

“Funny enough, this kind of relates to your non-existent love life,” Chrissy said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Waverly was already worried.

“O...kay,” Waverly drew out as she played with the string of her tea bag.

“Well, you know that lady I was interning for?” Chrissy asked.

“The producer?” Waverly asked blowing on her tea.

Chrissy nodded. “Well, she’s liked what I’ve been doing lately so she’s giving me some producing credits on her next project.”

“That’s amazing!” Waverly gasped, reaching out to squeeze her best friend’s hand. “What’s the project.”

“The Bachelorette,” Chrissy said as she leaned forward like she was telling a dirty secret. “Are you ready for the best part?”

“What?” Waverly asked as she took a sip of her tea.

“I want you to be the bachelorette!”

Waverly choked, tea sputtering out of her nose and dribbling down onto her shirt. She would be embarrassed if she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t dying at the moment. Her throat burned and tears formed in her eyes as she caught her breath. Chrissy made a move to pat on her back but Waverly waved her away.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Waverly coughed. She put her hand on her chest as she got her breath back. “I’m sorry,” she blinked, shaking her head, “I must have misheard you. You want me to be on your television show?”

“Yes.”

“The Bachelorette?”

“Right again.”

“Chrissy. No,” Waverly said firmly.

Chrissy looked genuinely shocked as she searched for words. “What? Why?”

Waverly blinked at her friend and wondered if she had done one too many of the drugs rumored to be around the reality tv world.

“Why?” Waverly said with a single chuckle, “Chrissy its...its me. They’re not looking for girls like...me!”

“Exactly! It’s you,” Chrissy said with a smile, “You’re Waverly Earp! Great great great granddaughter of Wyatt Earp. Small town girl with a Hollywood smile. Head cheerleader and valedictorian. Voted the nicest person in Purgatory and dreams of bigger horizons.”

Waverly just looked at Chrissy for a moment. “I-...did you rehearse that?”

“No. Well...yes. It was how I pitched you to my boss,” Chrissy shrugged.

“How you pitched me-“ Waverly scoffed. “I’m not a baseball, Chrissy!”

Chrissy shook her head sympathetically, her voice taking that lilt that people sometimes got when they were being both kind and condescending. “That metaphor does not track at all, sweetie.”

“My point still stands,” Waverly insisted, “Why would you pitch me to your boss?”

“You’re the perfect candidate,” Chrissy said as she sat up a little straighter. “They’re looking for someone new this season. Someone ‘real’.” Chrissy made air quotes and rolled her eyes. “Think about it. Everyone loves you, Waverly. That’s half the battle of finding the perfect contestant. You have that that…” she waved her hands around searching for the perfect word. “Pizazz.”

Waverly couldn’t help but snort into her tea. “Is that one of your fancy Hollywood terms?”

Chrissy raised an eyebrow at Waverly but she could see the smile in her eyes. She leaned forward, elbows on the table like she used to do in high school when she had a particularly good piece of gossip. “Come on, Waves. It’ll be fun!”

She sighed as she lowered her cup down to the table again. “I don’t know, Chrissy,” she said, “I mean...isn’t the whole thing a scam anyways?”

Chrissy shrugged. “No more than those stupid dating apps you hide behind to pretend you’re actually putting yourself out there.”

“I resent that,” Waverly said resting her chin in her palm and elbow on the table. “I’ve been busy. The world is so much easier when it’s just...in the palm of your hand like that.”

“I know, trust me,” Chrissy said, “But this is the perfect opportunity to get out there a little bit! Have an adventure. Do something only so many people can say they’ve done.”

Waverly had to admit, Chrissy knew how to sell things to her. She always had. It had led to some of her best worst decisions ever. But today was not going to end in one of those decisions.

“No.” Waverly took another long sip of her tea. “I don’t want my life out there in the world. Wynonna’s life. She has a dangerous job, it might put her at risk.”

“Waverly, I love you. But all I’m hearing are excuses,” Chrissy said stirring her drink with her straw. “We would only put as much of your life out there as you wanted. It would be all fluff pieces and nothing super crazy. We could lie about what Wynonna did. We’d...probably have to actually.”

“What...what else could she be?” Waverly asked. “I can’t imagine her as anything else.”

“I don’t know like...a bartender? A...banker?”

Waverly couldn’t help but snort in laughter.

“Let me put it this way,” Chrissy said as she reached across and covered Waverly’s hand with her own. “Best case scenario, you meet the love of your life.”

Waverly snorted again and Chrissy shot her a look.

“Worst case scenario, you...don’t. But at the end of six weeks, you got to stay in a beautiful vacation spot, have fancy dinners, flirt with a bunch of cute guys and make more in a few weeks than you usually make in a year.”

Waverly’s ears perked up a little bit and she leaned forward. “Um, excuse me, just how much does this pay?”

Chrissy’s smile curled slowly up her cheeks. “You get one hundred thousand dollars.”

If Waverly had been drinking, she would have choked again.

“In six weeks?”

Chrissy nodded. Waverly could see herself paying off so many loans. The need for any scholarships dwindling away...Waverly wondered what that kind of freedom tasted like.

Waverly sighed and shook her head, flattening her hand on the table in a final way. “No. I really can’t. Thank you, Chrissy, really. But...I can’t. It’s just...too weird and plus you know the whole...liking girls too thing.”

Chrissy leaned back in her seat. “I don’t have to tell them until Monday. Think about it, okay?”

“Fine, yes,” Waverly said with no intention of actually considering it. But she could pretend if it made Chrissy feel better.

“Thank you,” Chrissy said with a smile, “Now, tell me all about college.”

***

Waverly put the finishing touches on her makeup, dropping the brush into her bag. She looked in the mirror of her vanity to see Wynonna laying on her bed, head hanging off the side as she played with her phone.

“I can’t believe you’d rather go on bad dates for free when you could be going on bad dates for money,” Wynonna said flatly.

Waverly turned in the chair to look at her sister. “Yes. Except this bad date won’t be broadcast across the nation for everyone to see.”

“For a hundred thousand dollars I would go on the date and blow the guy in a fucking nun outfit,” Wynonna said just as flatly.

“Nonna!” Waverly said with a tint to her cheeks and a curl to her lips. “Come on.”

“Just being honest. Forgive me,” Wynonna said sarcastically.

There was the honk of a car horn from the driveway and Waverly cringed. Wynonna just smirked widely.

“You’re carriage is here, princess.”

“Screw you,” Waverly said lightly as she stood up and grabbed her purse from the bed. “I’m going to go out, have free dinner and a good time. Have fun here, Nonna.”

Wynonna wiggled her eyebrows. “I have a ménage à trois planned with me, a bottle of whiskey and the home shopping network.”

“Please don’t buy anymore tupperware,” Waverly warned as she took one last look at her hair in the mirror. “We’ve already run out of room in the cabinets.”

“No promises!” Wynonna yelled as Waverly started down the stairs. Waverly walked out of the Homestead, squinting as Pete’s headlights blinded her. She waved, hoping he would turn them off, but he just honked a couple more times.

Waverly took a deep breath as she locked the door, jaw tight. It was definitely going to be an interesting night.

***

“Get it?”

Pete grinned widely at Waverly from across the table, the remnants of something leafy in his left canine. His pudgy finger tapped the title at the top of the menu.

Let’s Pho

Waverly forced a small smile and nodded curtly. “Yep.”

“Let’s pho? Like let’s fuc-”

“Yep!” Waverly interrupted, eyes down on the menu as she pretended to read it. She subtly looked at her watch as she did so. Twenty minutes in. A typical first date lasted an average of ninety two minutes. About one fifth through. Great.

***

Waverly woke up the next morning later than she had meant to. After her date with Pete, Waverly came home, split Wynonna’s bottle of whiskey, and talked her out of buying garden gnomes that doubled as sprinklers.

She stumbled into bed at some unknown time, only managing to strip off her shirt and skirt before collapsing into the sheets. She woke up with a headache pressing behind her eyes, mouth dry.

“Waves!” Wynonna called from downstairs. “You got something official looking!”

Waverly jolted from her bed, sheets getting tangled in her legs and making her crash to the floor.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t kill yourself!” Wynonna growled.

Waverly wrapped her sheet around herself and shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen. Wynonna waved the envelope over her head, eyebrow raised at Waverly.

“Hungover? Thought college would have you trained better than this, baby girl,” Wynonna said as Waverly snatched the envelope from her hand.

“You’d think being an Earp would train me better than that.”

“Fair enough.”

Waverly sat at the kitchen table and held the envelope between her palms. It was from the scholarship foundation. Her stomach turned as she looked at the inconspicuous white envelope. An envelope that held so many of her future plans in the balance. She had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

“You gonna open it?” Wynonna asked as she poured some whiskey into her coffee and Waverly’s tea. Waverly sighed and slipped her finger under the flap, wiggling it a little bit so that the glue came just the slightest bit undone. Slowly, she ran her finger along the envelope to break the seal. Wynonna had her tea in front of her and was sitting down by the time Waverly had it open. Still she stared at it, the white paper barely visible in the envelope. She tried to read some of the words through the back of the paper but got nothing.

Waverly took a deep breath and slid the paper from the envelope, unfolding it deliberately as she went. She licked her lips and took a breath before reading the first line. Her stomach was in knots and she was sure she might barf.

Dear Ms. Earp,

Thank you for your submission to the J. G. Hubbard Scholarship Foundation. We thoroughly enjoyed your paper, but at this time we cannot offer you-

Waverly folded the paper back up and set it in the middle of the table, hazel eyes meeting Wynonna’s expectant ones. Any amount of confidence or hope she had quickly deflated.

“I didn’t get it,” Waverly said with a forced smile and a small chuckle.

“Bastards!” Wynonna said, snatching the letter off the table as if she had to double check to make sure Waverly was right. “You’re too good for them anyways, baby girl.”

Waverly shook her head, arms crossed in front of her chest. “I’m not too good for anyone. Especially people trying to give me money.”

She groaned and slumped forward in her chair, arms and chin on the table.

“What do I do now?” she groaned. She sat up just long enough to take a big sip of her tea that seemed like mostly whiskey.

“I mean...you don’t need this, right?” Wynonna asked.

Waverly scoffed. “It’s the only way I can go to grad school, Wynonna. And they need my first check like...yesterday!” She sighed and rested her forehead on the table, the wood muffling her words. “I’m just gonna be stuck here forever with a Bachelor’s degree.”

“What if I take some extra bounties?” Wynonna offered , “I can do some of the crazy out of state ones that pay out the ass. That should help.”

Waverly shook her head. “That’s very sweet, but no, Nonna. It’s fine I’ll just...I’ll figure it out. I might just have to...work in town until I can save up some money.”

Wynonna tapped on the table, nose scrunched up. “I have a solution but you’re not gonna like it.”

She squinted at her sister. “What’s that?”

“Chrissy just basically offered you a hundred thousand dollars,” Wynonna said cautiously. “For just being you and hanging out with beefcakes for six weeks.”

In all the drama of the day, Waverly had basically forgotten about the offer. She chewed on her lip, staring at Wynonna but not looking at her. It would be...for all intents and purposes, easy money. The offer was looking more and more tempting as she thought about it. And she couldn’t lie anymore and pretend that she was doing great with the whole...dating on her own thing.

Waverly looked up at Wynonna who had an eyebrow raised, a small smirk on her face. Was she really considering this? Was she really willing to become a reality tv personality to help pay for school? And maybe Chrissy had a point...maybe she’d end up meeting someone that she really liked. The whole premise was to get married at the end of the show but she paid enough attention to pop culture to know that the two contestants almost never actually ended up getting married in the end…

“We wouldn’t be able to talk for six weeks,” Waverly said.

Wynonna shrugged. “Like a mini vacation,” she teased.

“They’d want to talk to you.”

“I can be very charming.”

“You might have to lie about your profession.”

“What’s new?”

Waverly sighed and Wynonna smiled at her. “Baby girl...don’t do anything you don’t want to do. But...it could be a good opportunity.”

Waverly put her forehead on the table and let out some sort of indescribable sound that could only be compared to a cow in pain. Wynonna laughed and patted the top of Waverly’s head sympathetically.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Waverly grumbled. Wynonna just laughed again.

***

“Hey, Superstar,” Rosita smirked as Waverly slipped behind the bar at Shorty’s. Waverly rolled her eyes at her friend.

“Very funny,” she said with her hand on her hip.

Rosita shrugged, “It’s true. The only thing people have been able to talk about at all these days is that fancy camera crew in town.”

“Except no one knows it’s for me,” Waverly said pointedly, a raise of her eyebrows.

“Not yet,” Rosita said as she finished wiping down the bar and moved on to some of the tables before they opened. “When do you film all your stuff?”

Waverly inspected the beer taps and shook her head. “I talked to the producer yesterday, Chrissy’s boss. Something...Lucado. She’s kinda scary.”

“Aren’t producers supposed to be?”

“You have a point.”

Suddenly, the door to Shorty’s burst open and Chrissy entered, followed by a few bored looking men. Chrissy made a beeline for the bar while the others looked around with seemingly morbid fascination. Waverly looked down self consciously at her Shorty’s shirt and daisy dukes, running a hand through her hair as she plucked at the hem of her shorts.

Waverly frowned, “Hey, Chrissy.” She watched as one of the men inspected the jukebox. “I wasn’t expecting you today. Can I get you anything?”

“We’re just stopping by,” Chrissy said sitting at the bar, waving off Waverly’s offer. “I just wanted to tell you that they’re ready to sign contracts tonight. The boys here are just taking a look at the place for your shoot later.”

“My...shoot?” Waverly asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah! You know the whole song and dance. We follow you around, get a glimpse of your life, talk to your friends, talk about why you want to be on the show. That kinda thing.”

“Right,” Waverly sighed. Rosita sidled up to her and leaned over the bar towards Chrissy.

“Does that mean I get to be in it?” Rosita said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Chrissy smiled. “Yes. You and Wynonna and...who are your other friends, Waves?”

Waverly blushed, eyes focused on two men as they frowned and pointed at the lights hanging from the ceiling.

“Besides you?” Waverly asked with a smile. Chrissy shrugged.

“You have other friends, right?”

“I mean...yes?” Waverly’s mind strained to think of people that would go on camera for her. That knew her well enough to talk about her on television. Being the most popular girl in Purgatory didn’t really mean having friends. Apparently. “I have Rosita and...Doc and Dolls.”

“Your sister’s work partners?” Chrissy said with a tilt of her head. “Slash boy toys?”

“...Yes?” Waverly drew out, squinting at Chrissy as she tried to read her mind.

Chrissy nodded. “That’ll work.” She typed something on her phone as Waverly breathed a sigh of relief. “Also, they want to take you to dinner tonight to sign those contracts. In the city. A car will pick you up at six.”

Waverly felt her nerves light anew. Nothing seemed real yet. Even with two guys ignoring her and talking about the lighting in Shorty’s. It all still felt so...fake. Like something out of a dream. Or nightmare. She wasn’t sure yet.

“O-okay,” Waverly said as a few of their early customers came in. “A car? Really?”

Chrissy smirked, “The perks are just starting, Waves. Live it up. See you tonight!”

With a final wave, Chrissy hopped off her seat and headed back out of Shorty’s, the two men following her and taking some pictures of the place with their phones. They still looked concerned. Waverly sighed, blowing some hair back from her face.

“Live. It. Up,” she repeated under her breath, popping the last letter as she spoke. She wasn’t sure if she was equipped to ‘live it up’ like Chrissy said. She hoped she could be.

***

“You’re going where?” Wynonna practically gasped.

“Petit Trois.” Waverly pulled her hair back into a neat bun. “In the city.”

“I know where Petite Tross is-”

“Petit Trois,” Waverly corrected with a proper accent.

“Whatever,” Wynonna said waving off her sister’s words and sitting in her desk chair. “Can you bring me back something? Just a meatball even?”

Waverly frowned and looked over at her sister as she smoothed her hair into place. “Since when do you care about fancy restaurants?”

“This place is supposed to be the shit,” Wynonna said, “I saw it on the Travel Channel.”

“Do you ever think you watch too much television?” Waverly teased, smiling.

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Please. Just...one meatball. I just wanna taste luxury for once.”

“Fine. I’ll try.”

“You will.”

“I will try.”

“Best sister ever.”

***

Waverly wondered about the legal issues behind signing a contract after she had a glass of wine. Of very expensive wine that Waverly had ordered in perfect French. Much to the delight of her dinner mates. Throughout dinner, every time Waverly made one of the three producers laugh or smile, Chrissy would shoot her a little wink or thumbs up. Like she was going out of her way to impress them.

Other than Lucado, Chrissy’s direct boss and seemingly the leader of the pack, the two other producers were easily interchangeable men whose names Waverly almost immediately forgot. They also seemed the most easily amused by Waverly’s lame jokes and small town charm. She felt a little like an animal in a zoo as the big city folk watched her in amazement, but it wasn’t something she hadn’t grown accustomed to in college. It was like as soon as someone learned she was from a small town they suddenly had a thousand questions for her. Often they would tiptoe around asking if she’d ever dated any relatives. Sometimes, they’d just dive right in.

“So, here are the logistics,” Lucado said as she daintily dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin on her lap. The sudden change of subject from Waverly’s education to business gave her a bit of whiplash, but she recovered quickly. “You’d be in front of the cameras for six weeks, but contracts extend all the way through the airing of the show and the live show at the end of filming. After you’re done filming, you’re obligated to stay in...isolation for a little bit until the finale is done airing.”

Waverly frowned. “Um...why?”

“Just to make sure that it’s not accidently leaked who you chose,” Lucado said matter-of-factly. “Oh and you can’t see your new fiance until the live show either.”

“I-...okay,” Waverly said as Lucado handed her the contract. She looked down at it and flipped through a few pages. Chrissy had snuck her a copy the night before and Waverly had already spent the night before pouring over it. She pretended to look at it carefully as she took a slow, disinterested sip of her wine. She could practically feel the men across the table leaning forward, holding their breath until the pen hit paper. Lucado on the other hand was making a show of being just as disinterested as she folded her napkin on her lap.

Waverly nodded as she slowly turned to the last page of the contract. The waiter came by to collect her plate and she stopped him with a polite hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said with the easy smile that always got her forgiven before she even asked a favor. “Can you um...wrap up this one meatball please?”

She blushed but kept her smile in place as the waiter blinked at her. “This one meatball?”

“Yes, please. It’s um...a sister thing,” she said releasing the waiter’s arm and making her smile even brighter.

“Of course, ma’am,” he said with a curt nod before taking her plate and scuttling away.

She threw an apologetic smile across the table and shrugged. “My sister makes...odd requests.”

“We can work with that,” Lucado said with a small smile. “Eccentricities make for good television.”

“And Earps are not short on eccentricity,” Waverly said picking up the pen and clicking it open. She initialed in all the highlighted places, pausing briefly over the final signature at the bottom. It felt so...final. Like jumping off of a ledge. She thought of Wynonna and how supportive she was of the whole thing. Gus had been too, telling Waverly she always thought she had the face for television. Even more tempting was the big paycheck at the end of the tunnel. The one that would practically erase her fears.

She pressed her pen to the paper and signed quickly, adding an extra flourish to the ‘p’ at the end. Waverly could practically feel Chrissy’s excitement from across the table and she smiled at her best friend. Chrissy beamed back.

“Well then,” Lucado said as Waverly handed her back the contract, stiff smile on her face, “I guess we have our newest Bachelorette!”

Waverly felt her stomach clench at the thought, nerves suddenly taking over. She was the new Bachelorette. She was going to be on television. A public persona for the world to pick apart. Suddenly she felt sick.

But she forced a smile and raised her wine glass when they asked for a toast. She could pretend. She had a feeling she was going to be doing a lot of that in the future.

***

“Alright, last question, Ms. Earp. Have you ridden horses before? Are you comfortable on them?” the kind man that had been asking her questions for what felt like far too long asked with a smile. She couldn’t remember his name. Tony? Maybe it was Tony. She had been introduced to so many people the past couple of days since she signed the contract.

Waverly bit on her lip and thought of the last time she was on a horse. She was pretty sure she was ten and the horse threw her, putting an abrupt end to her asking Curtis to teach her to ride. But she was a small town cowgirl...at least, that was the persona they were going for.

“Yeah!” Waverly said with a smile. “Giddy up!”

She blushed and wondered what had caused her to add that unfortunate exclamation in the end. Rosie snorted behind her even though she was on the other side of the bar.

Tony wrote something down on his clipboard and smiled. “That’s all for now, Waverly. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Waverly kept her smile in place until he left Shorty’s. As soon as the door closed, she slumped and rested her head on her arm. Rosita came up behind her and rubbed her back with a sympathetic smile.

“You okay?” Rosita asked.

“I’m just nervous,” Waverly said as she relaxed into her friend’s touch. “I don’t know what to expect.”

Rosita set two whiskey glasses on the table and poured both of them a finger of alcohol before leaning on the bar with her elbow. “I have an idea,” she trailed off.

“What’s that?” Waverly said taking the whiskey gratefully.

“Have you ever watched the show?” Rosita asked with a squint.

Waverly shook her head and a slow smile lit up Rosita’s face.

“Want to get wasted tonight and watch a bunch of episodes?”

She thought for a moment and shrugged. Really, nothing could freak her out anymore than she already was. Plus it would be nice to have a few minutes to decompress and spend time with Rosita and Wynonna since she didn’t know when the next time she’d be able to would be. Things had barely gotten started with the show and she could already feel her life getting more and more hectic.

“That would be fun, actually,” Waverly said with a smile. “I have wine. Bring snacks?”

“Done,” Rosita said knocking back her whiskey just as the first customer of the day walked in. Rosita winked at her and went to work. Waverly downed her own whiskey just as Nedley walked in, eyes darting around the bar suspiciously. Despite his odd behaviour, Waverly still smiled at him.

“Can I get you anything, Sheriff?” she asked as he walked up to the bar. He shook his head.

“I’m here on an official capacity today,” he said,  gripping his belt. “There have been these tv folk lurking about town and rumor has it, it’s about you.”

Waverly blushed and made a show of zipping her lips shut. “You know I can’t say.”

Nedley grunted, satisfied none of those “tv folk” were lurking in the bar before his eyes settled on Waverly.

“Do you need a security detail? To keep these people at bay?” he asked. “My daughter says they won’t cause a problem but...I don’t trust someone who spends more than two dollars on a cup of coffee.”

Waverly laughed and shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, but you’re very sweet for asking,” Waverly said, touched by the gesture.

Nedley nodded gruffly and Waverly reached forward and squeezed his hand in her own. Waverly had known him for what felt like her entire life. Even though he wasn’t a man of many words, she knew that he cared.

“Chrissy is doing amazing by the way,” Waverly said winking at the Sheriff. “I feel very taken care of.”

A small proud smile crept onto his lips and Waverly squeezed his hand one last time before pulling away.

“She is, isn’t she?” he said settling into his usual bar stool. “You know...maybe I’ll take a beer after all.”

“Coming right up,” Waverly beamed as she poured him a drink.

***

“Ugh, this guy is awful,” Waverly groaned as she dumped a scoop of ice cream into her half drunk beer glass. She stretched her legs so that she was spread out on the couch, legs draping over Rosita’s lap. Wynonna was laying on the couch with her head on the opposite side of the couch, legs also on Rosita’s lap.

Wynonna picked up the remote and fast forwarded through a few minutes of the show before playing again. The Bachelor was making out with a busty blonde girl in a hot tub and they all scoffed, almost in unison.

“Fake!” Wynonna yelled before tapping Waverly’s thigh with her foot. “Am I gonna have to watch you make out with every dude on the show?”

Waverly scrunched up her nose. “I don’t...think so?”

“Don’t lie, Waves. All those hot babes lined up to wait on you hand and foot? You’re totally going to bang half of them,” Rosita said wiggling her eyebrows, “Make up for all those crazy times you didn’t have in college.”

Waverly blushed and took a took a bite of her ice cream. “I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Rosita just laughed and they turned back to the television. There was silence for a moment before Rosie turned to Wynonna with a frown.

“What’s the fake job you gave them for the show?”

Wynonna smirked. “Cabbage farmer.”

Waverly laughed so hard beer came out of her nose.

***

Waverly had never felt so poked and prodded in her life. Over the course of a weekend, the production team had made her take an STD test, a psych evaluation and have a physical. Probably the most embarrassing that happened was when she had rambled on to the person giving her the STD test that she hadn’t actually had any sexual encounters for a good six months. Then the day afterwards she had found out that the girl she hooked up with was the TA in one of her classes.

But that was just the beginning of her Saturday. After that they shipped her off to spend the rest of her day at the spa which she actually enjoyed. It was always nice being primped and walking out afterwards, she actually felt like she could be okay on television. She was feeling good and confident in herself.

She had been given strict instructions on what to pack for the six weeks she was going to be away. It was a bit of a shock when they told her that production would begin in a week and figured she should make sure she had everything she needed. Which apparently included a lot of bathing suits.

“What are you going to be doing this whole time?” Wynonna asked as Waverly threw yet another bathing suit top towards her bed, missing her suitcase entirely.

“Apparently swimming a lot,” Waverly answered before moving to the other clothes in her closet. “They told me to be prepared for anything. Literally. Chrissy was telling me to have something for every weather scenario.”

“Damn,” Wynonna said tossing the clothes Waverly was throwing her way into her suitcase. “Some of those bitches got to go to the beach. Are you sure I can’t come with you?”

Waverly chuckled. “As much as I would enjoy that, I doubt they’d allow it. They won’t even let me bring more than two books.”

Wynonna gasped dramatically, sarcasm tinting the edges. “How will you survive?”

Waverly made sure that she threw a shirt right at Wynonna’s head.

***

“Turn your head a little towards me and-...wonderful!”

The photographer snapped away, big lights flashing and blinding Waverly. Her smile was stuck in place, jaw sore from the strain. They had practically sewn her into a gold dress that ended right above her knees, slathered makeup on her and shoved her in front of a backdrop for pictures for their promo shoot.

They had made her take a never ending variety of pictures. Some with one rose, some with two, some with a dozen. She had taken photos with cowboy hats and boots on to play up her “small town cowgirl image”. At one point they even brought out puppies and kittens for her to take pictures with, which she certainly was not going to complain about.

“You’re gorgeous, honey!” the photographer, Antonio, shrieked. Waverly couldn’t help but giggle, a light blush tinting her cheeks that made the clicking of the camera come even faster and Antonio gasp.

A reporter was standing in the wings, taking notes on seemingly everything and asking her questions during her breaks. Lucado and Chrissy sat behind a monitor watching all the pictures as they were being taken. Occasionally Lucado would whisper something to Chrissy or someone else but for the most part they kept out of it. Based on what Chrissy had told her, that was going to change as soon as they started filming, so she was happy for the break while she had one.

“Waverly, you are amazing,” Antonio said finally lowering his camera from his face. “You are going to break so many hearts this season.”

“I don’t know about that. But thank you,” Waverly blushed.

Antonio flung his arms wide and turned back towards Lucado. “See! Look at this! She’s a gem, is she not?”

It just made Waverly blush deeper and a PA shuffled her off to the side to get her makeup retouched. She sat in the makeup chair and let someone fuss over her hair, grateful to be sitting with the heels they had put her in for the shoot.

“So,” the young reporter said as she settled into a chair next to her, “you ready for your big breakout?”

Waverly felt her stomach turn at the thought. Of her as a breakout in any way. Even despite the questions and primping and the photoshoot, it still hadn’t quite hit her that she was going to be on tv. In people’s living rooms every week as they cheered her on to find love week after week. She felt her nerves start anew and she picked at some skin on her thumb nervously.

“I’m excited to meet all the contestants,” Waverly said with a small smile.

“So you’re ready to find love?” the reporter asked with a small smile.

The nerves got a little worse in Waverly’s stomach but they were melting off into a warmth she couldn’t quite describe. Maybe it was...hope? No. She shook it off and shrugged at the reporter.

“You know, I am,” she said with an easy smile, “I’ve spent so much time in school and studying and...I don’t regret it. In anyway. But I just...feel like now is the time. To find love.”

Waverly smiled even wider and the reporter practically sighed. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Earp.”

“Oh, Waverly, please,” Waverly said taking the girl’s hand and shaking it as she got up to leave.

“Waverly, then,” she replied. “The article will be out soon but you’ll probably be filming and not able to read it. But I hope you like it!”

“I’m sure I will. As long as you don’t say what a jerk I am,” Waverly joked. The girl laughed as she walked away and Waverly looked back in the mirror. Article. Huh. Maybe this small town girl could go somewhere after all.

***

Waverly smiled brightly and pointed at the sign that had been hanging above the bar since she was a little girl.

‘Drink Where Wyatt Earp Did’

She did a few more cheesy points and gestures towards the sign as the camera crew filmed her. She was in her typical work uniform, tiny jean cutoffs and her Shorty’s shirt, hair back in a braid. The producers had been very clear about her looking like it was just another day while they were filming. They didn’t want anything crazy or fancy, so that’s what she gave them.

“Good, Waves,” Lucado said. She was sitting at a booth just off to the side of the filming, a small monitor in her hands as she watched the camera feed. “Now we just need some B-roll of you behind the bar. Okay?”

Waverly nodded, grateful to drop her arms and stop gesturing at that stupid sign. That morning had been filled with interview question after interview question. Waverly was sure she had melted under the direct glare of the stage lights. They had done her interview in Shorty’s, just set up a chair and some lights in the middle. They had interviewed Wynonna and Rosita too as part of her “introduction package” as they called it.

“This is where we need people to fall in love with you” Chrissy had said as the makeup team put finishing touches on her face. “And that shouldn’t be too hard.”

Waverly hoped Chrissy was right.

The bar was empty, so Waverly felt a little silly pulling a beer from a tap with no one to give it to. But she did it anyways, crew adjusting and following her as they went.

“Wait,” someone from another monitor called. “We got bogies in the background.”

Waverly looked behind her and saw Wynonna playing on her phone while drinking straight from a whiskey bottle. She rolled her eyes, hand on her hip.

“Nonna,” Waverly said, “You’re in the shot.”

Wynonna looked at Waverly and the camera crew like she’d just noticed they were there. She looked at the booth she was headed towards and pointed at it with a frown.

“But that’s my booth,” Wynonna said flatly.

“You can literally sit anywhere,” Waverly said gesturing towards the empty bar. “Just sit at a different table for like...an hour. A table that’s not right where they’re trying to film.

Wynonna looked scandalized as she sat at the booth. “Excuse you, I am an Earp. And Earps drink wherever they want, baby girl.”

Waverly huffed. “Wynonna! Please.”

“It’s okay, we can adjust,” Lucado said. “Ben, just move the shot to the left a little- and-...there we go. Okay background is clear.”

Waverly let out a long breath and just stared at Wynonna as she stuck her tongue out at her and took a long pull from the bottle. She rolled her shoulders and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before turning back to the camera.

“Okay,” she said picking up a new beer glass and readying it under a tap, “Let’s do this.”

[chocolatequeennk]

Old Friends, New Promises 2/2

Two weeks after Rome, the Doctor and Rose are just settling into their newly confessed love when a phone call from Mickey pulls them back to London. When they run into an old friend of the Doctor’s, the reunion sparks a promise to Rose that will bring them even closer together.

Ten x Rose, Teen

This is part of for Glimpses of a Different Life, following His Fortuna. If you’re not familiar with that series, the opening premise is that the Doctor and Rose started a romantic relationship before he regenerated. We’re now at School Reunion, with lots of changes afoot.

This is for @doctorroseprompts canon divergent adventures prompt.

Thanks to @lastbluetardis for the beta, and this alternate summary: LOOK HOW IN LOVE THEY ARE AND SOLVING MYSTERIES LIKE TWO BADASSES IN LOVE. AND THEY’RE GONNA SHAG SOON. Very succinct and accurate. ;)

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP | Ch 1

Bannerman Road was quiet when Sarah Jane pulled into her driveway. It was after eleven o’clock, and in suburban neighbourhoods like this, that was past everyone’s bedtime.

The Doctor climbed out of the car first, then held out a hand for Rose. All three humans were stifling yawns as they walked up to the house, and after she hung up her jacket and keys, Sarah Jane turned to her guests.

“I’ll show you where you can sleep, but then I think we should get to bed and save any planning for morning. I know I’m too tired to think strategically right now, and I assume everyone else is too.” She smoothed her hands down her shirt and wiped her palms on her jeans. “I only have two rooms, but one has a queen bed…”

Everyone looked at the Doctor, and after a quick glance at Rose confirmed that she was comfortable with the idea, he nodded at Sarah Jane. “We can share.”

Ten minutes later, he and Rose were staring at each other from opposite sides of the bed. They’d both changed into the pyjamas he kept in his coat, and he grinned delightedly at her adorable pink vest and shorts set decorated with bananas.

Rose tucked her hair back over her ears, and the nervous tic caught his attention. “Is something wrong?”

She shrugged. “You don’t… I know you don’t sleep much,” she mumbled. “You don’t have to stay with me all night, if you’d rather sit and read or something.”

The Doctor turned down the duvet and climbed into bed, then patted the empty space beside him. “I don’t need to sleep, but I love holding you,” he told her, feeling a sharp burst of warmth when her eyes lit up. “Come to bed, love,” he invited, unsurprised that the pitch of his voice dropped when he uttered such an intimate sentence.

Rose turned the lamp off, then slid beneath the duvet and pulled it up around her shoulders as she cuddled next to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and her hand was splayed between his hearts. “This all right?” she whispered.

The Doctor swallowed. “Yeah. It’s perfect.” She sighed, and he shivered when he felt her breath against his neck. Rose shifted and draped her leg over his; thankfully, the thin barrier of his pyjama bottoms kept him from picking up her emotions or train of thought. But when he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close, he found a sliver of bare skin just above her waist.

Contentment. Rose was relaxed and warm and just happy to be with him. He felt a very soft hum of desire, but mostly she was sleepy and in love.

The Doctor kissed her temple, then let his hand slide under her top to press firmly to her back. He tugged at her telepathically, encouraging her to sleep, and a moment later, he felt her drift off.

Holding Rose like this, he could feel her mind buzzing at the edges of his consciousness. He remembered how good it had felt the day before yesterday when he’d demonstrated what touch telepathy would be like during sexual intimacy, and he finally admitted the truth to himself.

He couldn’t hold back from Rose any longer. If, after thinking for three days, she was still willing to have him in her mind, he wouldn’t deny either of them.

oOoOoOoOo

The room was still dark when the need for the toilet woke Rose up, and the blinking numbers on the alarm clock indicated it was just past three in the morning. She shifted out from underneath the arm the Doctor had wrapped around her waist and crept out of the room.

There was a light on at the end of hallway, and after Rose used the facilities, she followed it to the kitchen, where Sarah Jane was sitting at the table, staring at a cup of tea. The older woman looked up and offered a weak smile before standing.

“Cuppa?” she offered, holding up the kettle.

Rose hesitated, but nodded after a moment. They needed to clear the air, and this might be the best opportunity. It was easier to spend time with the Doctor’s old companion now that he’d promised her he wouldn’t just drop her off at home one day, the way he had in the past. But she had a feeling Sarah Jane wasn’t quite as comfortable with spending time with her old friend’s new… partner.

A few minutes later, she was sitting down across from Sarah Jane, holding a warm mug. “So.”

Sarah Jane took a deep breath. “Rose, can I give you a bit of advice?”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “If it’s anything about a relationship with the Doctor, I oughta tell you, we’ve been together for almost eight months now. I think I’ve got things pretty well figured out.”

Sarah Jane blinked, and Rose wondered if she was more taken aback by her blunt reply, or by the length of time. The latter had been a surprise to her, when she’d sat down to figure it out.

“Travelling, or…”

“Together,” she said firmly. ��I think it’s been more like a year and a half since I started travelling with him.” Her lips curled up in a wry smile. “That’s harder to measure, since he accidentally skipped a whole year the first time he brought me home.”

Sarah Jane gasped, a breathless laugh. “I suppose it was too much to expect that his driving would have improved with age.”

Rose snorted and shook her head. “I think he’ll still be missing landings in five hundred years.”

“Do you know, when he brought me home for the last time, he dropped me off in Aberdeen instead of Croydon?” Sarah Jane rolled her eyes. “And then tonight when I told him that, he just said, ‘That’s next to Croydon, isn’t it?’”

Rose clapped her hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter. “He wanted to take me to Naples for Christmas in 1860. We ended up in Cardiff in 1869. And then there was the time he promised to take me to an Ian Dury concert, and instead we met Queen Victoria.”

Sarah Jane’s eyes danced. “1979, 1879… such an easy mistake to make.”

“Exactly!” Rose took a sip of tea and eyed Sarah Jane over the rim of her cup. “With you, did he do that thing where he’d explain something at like, ninety miles per hour, and you’d go, ‘What?’ and he’d look at you like you’d just dribbled on your shirt?”

Sarah Jane nodded fervently. “All the time. Does he still stroke bits of the TARDIS?”

Rose smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, he does, but… to be fair, I’ve picked up on that one, too.”  

Sarah Jane’s smile faded slightly, and she stood up and took her cup to the sink. Rose watched, trying to think of something to say.

“We talked some tonight, and I think I understand why he leaves people behind,” she said finally. “He lives so much longer than we do, and as long as he leaves you at home and alive, he could potentially always come back, if he chose. It’s his way of never losing his friends.” She shook her head. “But it isn’t right, and I’m sorry he left you like that, Sarah Jane.”

Sarah Jane nodded. “Yes, I’d just reached that same conclusion before you walked in.” She tilted her head and studied Rose. “You aren’t afraid he’ll do the same thing to you?”

“He’s promised that he won’t, and if I can’t trust him on something like that, why am I with him?” Rose said practically. A yawn nearly swallowed the end of her sentence, and she pushed back from the table. “I’m gonna lie down for a few more hours. If we’re going after those bat things tomorrow, I’ll need the rest.”  

Rose yawned again as she crawled into bed. As soon as she pulled the covers back up, the Doctor rolled over and wrapped an arm around her waist again. She relaxed against his chest, sighing when his lips brushed against her shoulder.

“Heard you talking with Sarah,” he murmured, his voice low.

“Yeah. We had a bit of girl talk. There aren’t many people who know what it’s like to travel with you, after all.”

The Doctor huffed, and Rose pressed her lips together to hide a giggle. She’d suspected he wouldn’t be thrilled by the thought of his companions swapping stories.

He sighed after a long moment, then said, “Just as long as neither of you ever meet Tegan or Ace.” Rose felt his grimace against her neck and waited for him to explain. “I doubt anyone thinks less of my driving than Tegan, and the last thing you need is lessons in blowing things up from Ace.”

Rose laughed softly as those words gave her enough of an idea of the companions in question to understand why he’d mentioned them by name. She rolled over to face him and pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered as she rested her head on his shoulder.

His hand moved automatically to her hair, combing through it slowly in a way that was putting her to sleep. “I love you, too, Rose,” he replied. “Now, get some rest, sweetheart.”

oOoOoOoOo

The text alert on her mobile woke Rose up the next morning, but she didn’t reach for her phone right away. First, she took a moment to savour the feeling of the Doctor spooned behind her, his arm wrapped snuggly around her waist holding her close. One of his legs was wedged between hers, and it was tempting to roll over and snog him breathless.

Instead, she scooted closer to him, frowning when she felt something hard protruding against her bum. Surely that wasn’t… She shifted again, deliberately this time, and heat swept through her when the Doctor groaned in response.

“Minx,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Thought Time Lords didn’t get morning wood,” Rose teased, not caring if her voice sounded a little breathless.

He kissed her neck, making her shiver. “As a rule, no,” he murmured. “But a Time Lord in love, holding the object of his affections in his arms?” She felt him take a deep breath. “A Time Lord who’s decided to take that final step of intimacy with his lover?”

Rose sat up and stared down at the Doctor, taking in the half-lidded gaze and pink cheeks. “Are you sure, Doctor?” she asked.

He reached out his hand and ran his fingers down her bare arm, and she sucked in a breath when she felt how absolutely certain he was. “Not here, obviously,” he said, though he couldn’t hide the rumble of desire in his voice. “But later, when we’re home again…” His eyes darkened. “I would very much like to make love to you, Rose Tyler.”

The sincerity in his words and voice left no room for her to doubt, and for a moment, looking down at him lounging on the bed, Rose couldn’t remember why they had to wait. She imagined sinking back onto the bed and trailing kisses along his jawline before nibbling gently on his ear.

Heat flared in the Doctor’s eyes, and he suddenly let go of her arm and jumped out of bed. Rose felt her face flush dark red when she realised he must have picked up on her thoughts—or at least the direction they were going, if he didn’t see an actual picture of what she wanted.

Thankfully, the aroma of bacon frying wafted into the room, and they both dove for their discarded clothing, starting the awkward routine of a morning after when there hadn’t been a night before.

Mickey was already in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee when they arrived. “Morning, Boss,” he greeted the Doctor. He handed Rose a cuppa, which she took absently while replying to her mum’s text. “Morning, Rose.”

The Doctor sat down and filled a plate with toast and bacon, slathering raspberry jam on both slices of toast. “Morning,” he said, then took a big bite.

Sarah Jane sat at the head of the table, a cup of coffee in her hands and an empty plate in front of her. Clearly, she’d eaten before the rest of them had gotten up.

“Do we have a plan for today?” she asked.

The Doctor nodded and wiped crumbs from his mouth before answering. “You and Rose will go to the maths room and use the sonic to break into the computers. I need to know what’s inside—it might give me a clue as to what they’re using the children for.” He pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and after a brief hesitation, handed it to Sarah Jane instead of Rose, as had been his first instinct. After what Sarah had told him the night before, he wanted to do something to show her that he still trusted her.

“And what about me?” Mickey asked.

“Mickey…” The Doctor tipped his chair back. “I need you to wait outside and keep watch. You can call for help if something goes wrong, or come in to save the day if we’re all stuck.”

“The Man in Havana,” Sarah Jane interjected, and Mickey grinned at her. “Sometimes, they’re the real heroes in the end.”

“All right, yeah.” Mickey nodded enthusiastically.

Rose tapped him on the shoulder. “And what about you, Doctor?”

His lighthearted facade faded. “It’s time I had a word with Mr. Finch.”  

oOoOoOoOo

Two hours later, the Doctor was underneath a table, ready to howl in frustration. Mr. Finch had been both unbending in his plot and purposely vague as to what the plot was. The computers were deadlocked, so he couldn’t break in and see for himself what the Krillitane were up to.

He heard the hum of the monitors turning on while he tried to force a computer open with brute force.

“You wanted the programme?” Sarah Jane asked, catching his attention. “There it is.”

The Doctor clambered out from under the table and stood up, looking at the large monitor at the front of the room. “Some sort of code.”

He watched the screen, first paying attention to the numbers locking in place, but then noticing the numerical system that was being used. No one had used those characters in millions of years. In fact, the last time he’d seen this particular set of problems…

“No,” he whispered. “No, they can’t be.”

Rose slipped her hand into his. “What is it, Doctor?”

“The Skasis Paradigm,” he said as the numbers continued to scroll across the screen. “They’re trying to crack the Skasis Paradigm.”

“The Skasis what?” asked Sarah.

“The God-maker. The universal theory,” he explained, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of such a tool in the hands of the Krillitane. “Crack that equation and you’ve got control of the building blocks of the universe. Time and space and matter, yours to control.”

Rose’s hand spasmed around his. “What, and the kids are like a giant computer?”

“Yes.” A moment later, he finally connected the rest of the things they’d learned so far, and he pulled away from Rose to pace. “And their learning power is being accelerated by the oil. That oil from the kitchens, it works as a, as a conducting agent. Makes the kids cleverer.” He leaned over a bank of monitors.

“But that oil’s on the chips,” Rose protested. “I’ve been eating them.”

“What’s fifty nine times thirty five?” the Doctor asked her.

“Two thousand and sixty-five,” Rose answered automatically. Her eyes widened as soon as she realised what she’d done. “Oh, my God.”

“But why use children?” Sarah Jane asked. “Can’t they use adults?”

The Doctor shook his head. The whole plan made sick sense, now that he understood the goal. “No, it’s got to be children. The God-maker needs imagination to crack it. They’re not just using the children’s brains to break the code; they’re using their souls.”

“Let the lesson begin.”

The Doctor stiffened and turned around to face Mr. Finch.

“Think of it, Doctor,” the Krillitane cajoled. “With the Paradigm solved, reality becomes clay in our hands. We can shape the universe and improve it.”

“Oh yeah?” The Doctor put his hands on his hips. “The whole of creation with the face of Mr. Finch? Call me old-fashioned, but I like things as they are.”

The Krillitane tilted his head. “You act like such a radical, and yet all you want to do is preserve the old order?” He advanced slowly on the Doctor. “Think of the changes that could be made if this power was used for good.”

The Doctor looked him up and down. “What, by someone like you?” he asked, not bothering to hide what he thought about that.

“No, someone like you,” Finch whispered. “The Paradigm gives us power, but you could give us wisdom. Become a god at my side.” He took another step towards the Doctor. “Imagine what you could do. Think of the civilisations you could save. Perganon, Assinta. Your own people, Doctor, standing tall. The Time Lords reborn.”

Possible timelines suddenly spun away from this moment. Gallifrey back where it belonged in the Kasterborous Constellation. The Daleks completely destroyed, never to return—not even just periodically in small groups. The toxic attitudes of the Time Lords themselves contained, no longer in charge, no longer influencing the next generation.

“Doctor, don’t listen to him,” Sarah Jane begged.

The Doctor turned slowly as Finch walked past him, and some of the temptation to agree to the Krillitane’s plan faded when the other man zeroed in on Rose. “And you could be with him throughout eternity. Young, fresh, never wither, never age, never die.” He cast a sidelong look at the Doctor, a smirk on his face as he repeated the words he’d told Rose the night before. “Their lives are so fleeting. So many goodbyes.” He looked straight at the Doctor again. “How lonely you must be, Doctor. Join us.”

On the screen behind Finch, the numbers were still flashing as the students continued working on the Skasis Paradigm. “I could save everyone,” the Doctor said, feeling dazed by the possibilities.

“Yes.”

He looked at Rose, imagining a timeline where they could share a forever. “I’d never have to lose you.”

“No.”

Sarah Jane’s sharp exclamation caught his attention, and his head swivelled to look at her, instead of the screen.

“The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love.”

Beside her, Rose nodded, though he could tell from the way her head was tilted back that she was fighting tears.

Sarah Jane took a shaky breath and continued. “Whether it’s a world, or a relationship, everything has its time. And everything ends.”

The Doctor stared at the screen for a long moment. The students were so close to solving the Paradigm. Just a little bit longer, and he’d have the key… the key to fixing the universe so it was exactly as he wanted it.

The absolute wrongness of that thought struck him before the idea could take hold, and he grabbed a chair and threw it at the screen to keep from being tempted further.

“Out!” he yelled, grabbing Rose and Sarah Jane by the hand and pulling them with him.

Ten minutes later, hunkered down in the physics lab with Rose, Sarah Jane, Mickey, and a student named Kenny, the Doctor quickly went over everything they knew, trying to find a the chink in the Krillitane’s armour.

“It’s the oil,” he realised suddenly, remembering how Rose had told them the dinner lady had reacted to having oil spilt on her. “Krillitane life forms can’t handle the oil. That’s it!” Mickey, Rose, and Sarah Jane all straightened up at the excitement in his voice, and the Doctor leaned forward as he continued his explanation. “They’ve changed their physiology so often, even their own oil is toxic to them.”

And the oil would be highly flammable. If there was enough of it, and he could somehow set it on fire, the resulting explosion would not only cover the Krillitane in their oil, it would bring the kitchen down on top of them.

He looked at Rose, sitting beside him. “How much was there in the kitchens?”

She grinned and jumped to her feet. “Barrels of it.”

Loud pounding and screeching at the door dampened their sudden excitement, especially when claws pierced the wood.

“Okay, we need to get to the kitchens.” The Doctor looked at his team. “Mickey.”

“What do you need?”

“Get all the children unplugged and out of the school.” Mickey nodded, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow. “The Man in Havana really is saving the day today,” he added.

The assault on the door had only gotten worse, and he knew they had less than a minute of safety left. “Now then, bats, bats, bats. How do we fight bats?”

The whistle of the fire alarm pierced the air, and he chuckled and nodded at Kenny. “Well done,” he said as he pushed the door open. “Come on!”

They raced past the cringing Krillitanes, then split up at the next hallway intersection. The alarm stopped before the Doctor, Rose, Sarah Jane, and Kenny reached the main floor, and he knew Mr. Finch and his teachers wouldn’t be far behind them.

Rose, most familiar with this path, led the way to the kitchens. “Here you are,” she said, pointing to the metal barrels gathered in the middle of the room.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, but it seemed Mr. Finch had been prepared for him here, as well as in the maths classroom. “They’ve been deadlock sealed.” He tried another barrel, but no luck. “Finch must’ve done that. I can’t open them.”

He was still trying to come up with a way to drill a hole in the metal barrel when K9 said, “The vats would not withstand a direct hit from my laser, but my batteries are failing.”

The Doctor nodded. “Right. Everyone out the back door.”

Rose put her hand on Kenny’s back and pushed him towards the door first, then she and Sarah Jane followed.

“K9, stay with me,” the Doctor said, belatedly remembering the little dog’s penchant for taking instructions literally.

The robot dog rolled back the few feet he had already taken towards the door and wagged his tail slightly, waiting for directions. The Doctor tugged on the barrels, lining them up so K9 could easily shoot each one individually.

“Capacity for only one shot, Master,” K9 told him. “For maximum impact, I must be stationed directly beside the vat.”

The Doctor frowned and ran over to kneel in front of his dog. “But you’ll be trapped inside.” True, the fryer was the most vulnerable point. Shooting it would start an electrical fire that would ignite the oil, and once ignited, it would explode within thirty seconds. That would trigger explosions in the nearby barrels that would be strong enough to destroy the kitchen and everything in it.

“That is correct,” K9 said matter-of-factly.

“I can’t let you do that,” the Doctor protested.

“No alternative possible, Master.”

He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Everything ends, Sarah Jane had said, but neither of them had thought at the time that they would lose their pet.

The distant screeches of the Krillitane reached him, and he knew he only had a few moments to get to safety himself. “Goodbye, old friend.”

“Goodbye, Master.”

“You good dog.”

“Affirmative.” K9’s ears twitched and his tail wagged at the praise.

The Doctor patted K9’s metal cheek, then pushed himself to his feet and backed away a few steps before running out the door. Sarah Jane was waiting for him, and he didn’t look at her as he sealed the door, trapping her dog inside.

“Where’s K9?” she asked immediately.

The Doctor turned around and slipped the screwdriver back into his pocket. “We need to run,” he said, taking off.

“Where is he?” Sarah Jane’s voice got higher when she realised what must have happened. “What have you done?”

He spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders, then took her hand and ran with her as the first rumble of explosions began.

Out in the schoolyard, the students cheered as smoke billowed out of the windows. When they chanted Kenny’s name, the Doctor looked over at Sarah Jane and winced at the devastated look on her face.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.  

She shrugged. “It’s all right. He was just a daft metal dog. It’s fine, really.”

The Doctor was already wrapping an arm around her shoulders when she burst into tears. She pressed her face into his shoulder, and guilt lanced through him, worse than he’d felt last night. K9 was the only thing he’d left her with to remind her of her time with him, and now he was gone. An idea came to him—maybe a daft one, but it was the only olive branch he could think of.  

Rose and Mickey made their way towards them, working slowly around the edge of the crowd of shouting children. Rose raised her eyebrows and gestured towards the school, and he nodded.

“We need to get the TARDIS out of the school before it isn’t safe to go up the stairs anymore,” he told Sarah Jane quietly.

She sniffed and straightened up. “Of course. And I should go home. I suppose this is goodbye?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Is there a park where we could meet?”

Sarah Jane gave him the address of the park nearest her house and the time she would expect him.

“We’ll be there,” he promised.

Rose took the Doctor’s hand as they went back into the school, Mickey right behind them. “K9 was still in the kitchen, wasn’t he?” she asked as they climbed the stairs.

The Doctor nodded, then looked over his shoulder. “But, with your mechanical expertise Mickey, I think we could build her a new one in no time.”

“I don’t know anything about gears in the thirty-fourth century,” Mickey protested.

The Doctor shook his head. “A gear is still a gear,” he countered. “You’ve been hacking into government databases on a computer that was outdated when you bought it. Trust me, Mickey, you can handle this.”

Rose pushed open the door of the classroom they’d parked the TARDIS in and jogged across the room, pulling her key out as she went. “Oh, I’m ready to be home,” she sighed as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

The Doctor tossed his coat over a strut and sent the TARDIS into the Vortex to put them out of the timeline, then started down the corridor. “Come on, Mickey,” he called over his shoulder.

“He’ll be there in just a minute,” Rose said, grabbing Mickey’s hand before he could follow the Doctor. “I’ll give him directions.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s this about, babe?”

“You’ve got to tell me, because it’s killing me. When did you and the Doctor get to be such good friends?”

Something indefinable crossed Mickey’s face. “You learn a lot about a man when his girlfriend is trapped as a Roman statue,” he said soberly. “Very first thing he thought of, once he realised the statue in the museum wasn’t you, was to go back in time and learn to sculpt so he could make it. He didn’t even blink, Rose.”

The respect in Mickey’s voice when he talked about the Doctor was obvious. Rose stared at him, then pointed down the corridor. “Down that way, take the first stairs on the right, turn left at the top of the stairs, second door on your right. That’s the Doctor’s work room.”

Mickey grinned and pecked her on the cheek, then jogged in the direction she’d pointed.

Rose walked down another corridor at a much slower pace. Mickey’s words had stirred up the same almost overwhelming love she’d felt when she’d realised what the Doctor had done for her. She remembered the kiss she’d given him in thanks, and how quickly the passion had ignited between them.

She ran her fingers absently along the wall, and the TARDIS’ hum surrounded her. Rose blinked suddenly when she reached her room, taking in the familiar pale lavender walls and plush carpet. She was home. They were home. Which meant…

She looked down at the clothes she’d been wearing for two days now and shook her head. She quickly stripped on her way to the en-suite and climbed into the shower, after tossing her clothes into the laundry basket.

Rose took her time getting ready, knowing the Doctor and Mickey would need at least an hour to build a new K9, even if they could speed through every step. She tried not to think about the fact that she was primping for her first night with the Doctor, but when she stared at her lingerie drawer after drying her hair, some of her nerve faded.

I’m being silly, she told herself as she slid the drawer shut. He’s not even human—who knows if he likes sexy underwear?

The TARDIS hummed in her mind, and Rose turned around to find an entire outfit laid out for her on her bed. The jeans and t-shirt weren’t what she would have chosen for a night like this, but she knew the instant she saw them that they would look fantastic on her, hugging all the right places.

Soft pink lace boy shorts matched a smooth satin bra that wouldn’t show under the thin cotton t-shirt. It was all very similar to what she wore on a daily basis, and Rose smiled gratefully when she realised the message the ship was trying to send: Be yourself—just a slightly more dolled up version of yourself.

The Doctor and Mickey were already in the console room when she arrived. “There you are!” the Doctor said. His nose twitched, and Rose smirked when she watched his gaze linger on her chest and hips.

“Are we ready to go?” she asked him as she sauntered down the ramp to the console level.

He blinked, then nodded and pulled the dematerialisation lever without looking away from her. Rose leaned back against the railing as the TARDIS’ engines wheezed. Mickey was purposely not looking at either of them, and Rose slowly licked her lips, teasing the Doctor.

He’d taken half a step towards her when they landed, interrupting his plans. He blinked and checked the clock. “All right, we’re ten minutes early, according to when Sarah Jane said. Mickey, would you get K9 hidden behind the TARDIS?”

Mickey walked to the door and clapped his hands. “Come on, boy,” he called.

Rose pressed her lips together to stifle her laughter when the robot dog’s eyes lit up. “Coming, Master,” he said, and rolled after Mickey out the doors.

The Doctor wrapped his arms around Rose’s waist and nosed her hair out of the way to kiss her neck. “You took a shower,” he whispered against her skin.

She shivered, but managed to nod.

“You smell amazing.” His tongue darted out to lick the spot just below her neck. “And taste fantastic,” he groaned. “Are you sure we can’t just close the doors and leave Mickey and Sarah Jane here?”

The lust in his voice made her knees weak, but the deeper meaning behind his words gave her the strength to turn around and put her hand on his chest, pushing him back a few inches.

“Rose?”

She smiled reassuringly. “Oh, believe me, I intend to come back to this,” she promised him. “But first, I want you to promise me that we’re not going to just leave Sarah Jane behind again.”

The Doctor sighed and leaned back on the console. “I won’t, but I don’t know that she’ll believe me after last time.”

Rose clasped her hands behind her back and looked up at the Doctor, her most charming smile on her face.

“What?” he asked. “What are you up to?”

“Well…” She moved forward and ran her finger down his tie. “I just thought that if we promised to come back for a visit soon, and then actually did, it might make a difference.”

He rocked back on his heels and looked up at the ceiling, and Rose watched as he wrestled with himself. An open-ended promise like, “I promise not to fly off and never come back,” was easier to make than something more specific. But that’s why it would mean more to Sarah Jane.

“All right,” he finally agreed.

Mickey came back inside then. “I think I saw Sarah Jane, coming from the other end of the park,” he said.

The Doctor nodded and exited the TARDIS, leaving the door open. “Cup of tea?” he asked a moment later, then moved back and let Sarah Jane enter the ship first.

She paused at the base of the ramp. “You’ve redecorated.”

“Do you like it?” the Doctor asked.

Sarah Jane stepped further into the ship and touched one of the coral struts as she walked around it. “Oh, I, I do. Yeah. I preferred it as it was,” she admitted as she circled the console, “but er, yeah. It’ll do.”

Rose ran her hand over the console, smiling as she remembered their conversation the night before. “I love it.”

“Hey, you,” Sarah Jane said, “what’s forty seven times three hundred and sixty nine?”

She shook her head. “No idea. It’s gone now.” Rose had felt the sharp mental acuity slip away while she was in the shower. “The oil’s faded.”

“But you’re still clever,” Sarah Jane assured her. “More than a match for him.”

“I think,” the Doctor said as he came around the console to join them, “that I have a pattern of asking clever women to travel with me.”

Rose watched as a faint blush coloured Sarah Jane’s cheeks, and she realised that even after all these years, and all the things the other woman had done with her life, this had been missing—the absolute confidence that the Doctor really had valued her as a friend and a companion. That made her even more determined not to abandon her now, and she looked over at the Doctor.

He tugged on his ear, and Sarah Jane looked at him, a small frown creasing her forehead. He smiled at her. “Er, we’re about to head off, but we thought we might come by sometime soon for a visit, if that’s all right?”

Sarah Jane shook her head, and Rose put her hand on her shoulder. “Seriously,” she said. “We’re not gonna just disappear again—I promise.”

The Doctor watched the doubt slowly fade from his old friend’s face, and finally, she smiled at him. “All right. You give me a ring when you’re ready to pop ‘round, and I’ll make sure to be ready.” She pointed a finger at him. “In the next month in my timeline, or I’ll assume I’ve been left behind again.”

Her smile seemed happier and more genuine than it had since they’d been reunited. “And now I think I’m going to go home. I’ve got an adventure of my own waiting for me—time I stopped waiting for you and went after it.”

Mickey stepped out from behind the strut. “Can I come with you?” he asked. “You said you had information on Torchwood.”

Sarah Jane smiled at him. “Of course. Sarah Jane Smith, and Mickey Smith.”

“Defenders of the Earth,” the Doctor added.

Rose opened her arms, and Sarah Jane welcomed the hug. She murmured something to Rose that the Doctor knew he probably wasn’t meant to hear, but thanks to his superior biology, he couldn’t quite avoid it.

“I owe you an apology, Rose. When I met you, I thought you were just a girl and couldn’t understand what it was like to be with a man like the Doctor. I was wrong. You really are more than a match for him.”

Rose looked at the Doctor over Sarah Jane’s shoulder, and he knew she knew he’d overheard. “Thank you,” she whispered, then stepped back.

Sarah Jane and the Doctor went back out into the sunny London park. She looked up at him and shook her head. “It’s daft, but I haven’t ever thanked you for that time. And like I said, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“Something to tell the grandkids,” the Doctor suggested.

“Oh, I think it’ll be someone else’s grandkids now.” She raised an eyebrow and nodded at the TARDIS. “Yours, maybe?”

The Doctor felt his ears turn red, and he tugged on his tie, suddenly feeling hot despite the mild spring day. “We haven’t discussed… and it would take a little fiddling with the DNA…”

Sarah Jane chuckled. “It’s good to see that underneath all that suave and dashing charm, you’re just as clueless as the rest of us.” She took a deep breath, then said, “Goodbye, Doctor.”

“Oh, it’s not goodbye,” the Doctor insisted.

“No, I know you’re coming for a visit—Rose will make sure of that.”

The Doctor smiled sheepishly as a breeze ruffled his hair.

Sarah Jane reached for his hands and held his gaze. “But this… I never got a proper goodbye at the end of my travels with you. Say it for me, please?”

The Doctor’s throat closed up, but he smiled, ignoring the tears that threatened. “Goodbye, my Sarah Jane.” He picked her up in a hug, swinging her gently. She was right; it felt good to say goodbye.

The door opened and shut, and he set Sarah Jane down and held out a hand for Mickey. “Tell me if you turn anything up,” he said seriously.

Mickey nodded. “Will do. Till next time, Boss.”

The Doctor reentered the TARDIS, then paused and looked back at Sarah Jane. “Stay until we’re gone,” he requested, a smile turning his mouth up. “We’ve got a little surprise for you.” She nodded, and he closed the door behind him.

Rose was leaning against a strut, and he could tell from the carefully neutral expression on her face that she wasn’t sure if he would need a few hours to brood over Sarah Jane before they could get move on to the promised plans for the evening. But just the fact that she knew him that well made his hearts speed up, and he shook his head. She was his present and his future; why would he want to dwell on the past when he had her in his arms?

He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over a strut. “Rose Tyler,” he said, letting his voice take on a deeper timbre than it usually did. “Do you know where we’re going to go?” he asked as he moved to the console and wrapped his fingers delicately around the controls.

She licked her lips as she watched him set the coordinates, and he had to readjust a dial that slipped. Then suddenly a hint of mirth entered her eyes. “Further than we’ve ever gone?” she suggested, pulling a bark of laughter from him.

A knot of happiness tightened in Rose’s chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment. He threw the dematerialisation lever without looking away from her, and the challenge in the sexy quirk of his left eyebrow spurred her on.

She slid into the space between his body and the console, smiling when his hands automatically rested on her hips. The Doctor’s eyes darkened when she linked her hands loosely at behind his neck.

“Do you know how irresistible you are, love?” he said huskily.

“Dunno.” Her nails scraped through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, and he shivered and pulled her closer. “Why don’t you show me?”

A moment later, his hands dropped to her bum. “Jump,” he ordered, and with his help, a moment later she was perched on a relatively smooth section of the console. Slowly, the hands that had lifted her up slid around and ran up her thighs, then underneath her soft cotton shirt.

Rose gasped when she felt his bare hands on the sensitive skin at her waist. He loved her so much… He wanted her so much, and his control was already trembling on the edge of a knife.

“Are you still certain you want this, Rose?” he whispered as he stroked his thumbs over her hip bones.

Rose moaned and wrapped her legs around the Doctor’s hips, pulling him closer. “Yes.” She slid her hands over his shoulders and into his hair, then tugged his head down so she could nip at his bottom lip. “Please, Doctor,” she whispered against his mouth. “I want to make love with you. I want to feel you in my body”—she brushed her fingers over his temple—“and in my head.”

The Doctor’s breathing stuttered, and Rose whimpered when a wave of arousal crashed over her. “Hold on tight,” he told her, and she grabbed his shoulders and crossed her ankles over his bum as he lifted her up.

The few seconds of friction that motion created drew deep groans from both of them, and Rose shuddered as her desire built. “Your room or mine?” she panted into his neck.

The Doctor stopped at the door to his room, which the TARDIS had mercifully moved to just off the console room. “I thought… ours?”

He lowered Rose to her feet and pushed open the door, and her eyes widened when she took in the redecorated space. Her light oak queen bed, his bookcases, her vanity, a matching wardrobe that was new… Even the colour palette of rich blues and lavenders was suited to both of them.

She felt the Doctor’s hands brush against her elbows, and suddenly she saw exactly how much he wanted this—not just for one night, but for a lifetime. “You can spend the rest of your life with me,” he’d promised, and this was where that life began.

Rose turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yeah. Ours,” she agreed, then pressed her lips to his to seal the promise with a kiss.