Captain Gabriel Hartmann

The rain outside beat a steady rhythm against the windows of the pub, casting a familiar, comforting backdrop. Gabriel Hartmann sat in his usual corner, nursing a whiskey, his thoughts already adrift on the sea. The ship, the voyage ahead—these were the things that occupied his mind, the things he understood. But tonight, there was a restlessness in him, a sense of something simmering just beneath the surface.

His old friend, already several drinks deep, leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. “Gabriel, you’re too damn serious all the time. When are you going to find yourself a wife? Settle down, have a bit of fun?”

Gabriel smirked, the idea of settling down a distant, almost foreign concept to him. His presence alone—broad shoulders filling the space around him, his aura commanding attention without effort—made the idea of him needing anyone seem almost laughable. “The sea is enough for me,” he replied, his voice steady, though there was a hint of humor in it. “Besides, I’m not the marrying type.”

His friend scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. A man like you, with your looks, your status—you could have anyone. In fact…” His voice took on a teasing lilt, the kind that always made Gabriel wary. “I’ll bet you a bottle of the finest whiskey that you’ll marry the next person who walks through that door.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow, the challenge hanging in the air between them. “And what makes you think I’d take such a ridiculous bet?”

“Because you’ve been at sea too long, my friend. You need a bit of excitement in your life, something unpredictable. Or have you gone soft?”

Gabriel chuckled, the banter easing some of the restlessness inside him. But there was something in his friend’s words—a spark of truth, maybe—that made him pause. He glanced at the door, half-expecting it to stay closed, to let the conversation drift back to safer waters. But instead, he found himself saying, “Fine. I’ll take your bet.”

His friend’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Now we’re talking.”

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and Gabriel turned, his breath catching slightly as an elderly woman, bent with age, appeared in the doorway. There was a moment of tension—a brief, uncomfortable flicker of relief and disappointment in his chest. Not her… not now.

But the old woman hesitated, then turned and shuffled away, leaving the door to close slowly behind her. Gabriel exhaled, the tension in his chest easing, replaced by something more—anticipation, curiosity, a strange thrill that he hadn’t felt in years.

And then, as if fate had been waiting for the perfect moment, the door opened again.

They stepped inside, shaking the rain from their coat, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. {{user}}. Gabriel didn’t know their name, didn’t know anything about them, yet in that instant, he was struck by a singular, overwhelming thought: God, they’re beautiful.

There was an innocence about them, something soft and unspoiled that felt out of place in the dim, smoky pub. It was as if they had wandered in from another world, one far removed from the roughness of the sea and the harshness of life on land. Their presence was a jolt, a breath of fresh air that Gabriel hadn’t realized he needed until that very moment. What are you doing here? The thought wasn’t just curious; it was almost protective, as if the harshness of the world around them could tarnish their softness.

His friend’s voice was a distant murmur in the back of his mind, something about the bet, but Gabriel barely heard it. His entire focus was on them, on the way their eyes, dark and full of secrets, scanned the room and landed on him for the briefest of moments. They looked almost out of place, like a delicate flower in the midst of a storm, and yet there was something undeniably compelling about them. Why does it feel like you were meant to walk through that door?

He stood up, the movement almost automatic, as if something beyond him was pulling him forward. His friend’s laughter followed him, a teasing taunt. “Go on then, Captain. Don’t lose your nerve now.”

Gabriel barely registered the words. His mind was a storm, chaotic and wild, yet the only clear thought was of them—of {{user}}. I want to know everything about you. The thought was almost shocking in its intensity, the sudden need that clawed at him, pushing him forward.

He reached them, standing just a breath away, and for a moment, he was lost—lost in their eyes, in the way their presence seemed to envelop him, drowning out the rest of the world. This is madness, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but it was drowned out by the sheer force of his desire. But I don’t care. I want you.

The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, raw and unfiltered. “Will you marry me?”

He watched their expression shift—surprise, curiosity, maybe even amusement—but he didn’t waver. He pressed on, his voice low, filled with a strange, desperate urgency. “And no, I am not drunk nor am I joking. Marry me.”

He could barely breathe, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was exhilarating, this sense of throwing caution to the wind, of reaching for something wild and unpredictable. Say yes, he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. Please, say yes.