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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if...? Part 7

So, vote came in with an overwhelming landslide for two parts instead of a giant part 7. Too bad you’re getting a giant part 7 and a part 8 and... I’ve given up. Whatever the final number pf parts this ends up on, it’ll end up on. You lovely LOVELY enablers are just adding fuel to the fire. Your comments and reblogs are such an inspiration, thank you! <3 <3

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7

“I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with this.” Davarax drawls after Dulsissia had dropped off Corin for training and Barthor has to be called over twice by Paz before he’ll stop talking to her.

Dulsissia gives Davarax her sweetest smile. “I’m just being a good influence on him.”

Davarax hums, crosses his arms and turns to watch Paz drill the others through the warm-up before the training can begin.

Fighting back a laugh, Dulsissia turns her focus to the children as well and she tilts her head slightly when she sees Paz correct Corin’s posture and awarding him for getting it right with a nod and a pat on the head before moving on to Din, who seems a little jumpy today and Paz wraps his arm around him while saying something that has Din nodding and his shoulders relaxing a little. “Davarax?”

“Mmh?”

“Has Paz always been so protective of them?” Dulsissia has observed him with other kids in the Covert and usually Paz radiates hostility and tends to behave like he’s superior to them all. She’s seen him be downright rude. Very different from how he is with the rest of Davarax’ children.

“Towards Raga, yeah,” Davarax replies, “but Din is what knocked him into a complete parental tip-yip towards anyone he deems a member of his group.”

Feeling another soft rush of emotion, Dulsissia glances over at the Mandalorian next to her. “Truth be told, considering how his father behaves,” Dez Vizla had not impressed her with his manners during Paz’ birthday and revealed where the boy has his occasional arrogance from, “I’m amazed he knows how to be this sweet. I haven’t met his mother yet, is that who he takes after?”

Davarax doesn’t answer right away. He shifts his weight uneasily and uncrosses his arms to cross them again with a different arm on top. “Paz’ mother walked out on him and his father two days before Paz turned five years old. She left the Tribe to be with some guy who owned some shipping company. It’s not something we talk about out loud, so… don’t.”

Stunned, Dulsssia cannot believe what she’s hearing. “She left her son behind?”

“She wanted a fresh start and leave the Mandalorian life behind.” Davarax replies, uncomfortable.

Realizing she’s standing there with her mouth open, Dulsissia shuts it and turns back to stare at the children. The idea of leaving Corin behind when she planned to escape from Macero had never once entered her mind. Dez Vizla does not appear to be as cruel as Macero, but still…

This time Dulsissia stays in the room when they train, curled up comfortably in a corner and dividing her attention between the Mando’a dictionary and the children. She’s feeling lazy today and just wants to be near her son and the ones who has become so very dear to her.

Despite the fact that Davarax is teaching them to fight, the mood is so light and the air is so filled with comfortable belonging that Dulsissia finds herself relaxed and time just flies by.

She’s almost a little sad when Davarax calls for the end of the session.

Getting up on her feet, stretching a little, Dulsissia adores the sight of Corin huddled up with the other children and talking with nothing but excitement and happiness in his eyes. She is a little surprised when he comes running over to her, usually she has to drag him out of the room, but he quickly reveals why.

“Mom, Barthor is going to show us this machine he made in his room. Can I go? Can I?”

“I’ll walk Corin back.” Paz promises.

“Me too.” Din pipes up.

“Me too!” Raga shouts.

Laughing, Dulsissia looks down at her big-eyed boy and tries to put on a strict face. “Food in one hour.”

Nodding so eagerly it has to hurt, Corin darts over to the other children at superspeed, before she has the chance to change her mind. “Let’s go!”

The group trample out of the room like a herd of wild tauntauns and she saunters over to the man left behind. “Looking at the stuff you have them doing, I feel like giving up. I’ll never be that good,” Dulsissia confesses with a smile.

Davarax bends down to pick up up a towel from the floor. “You will. Just give it time. And do the work.” He makes a displeased grunt when he straightens back up and rolls his right shoulder in an irritated manner.

“What’s wrong?” Dulsissia asks, instantly worried. It’s not a sound she’s heard from him before.

“Nothing.” Davarax sighs and rolls his shoulder again. “Just my shoulder acting up. I pushed things a little too hard during Fighting Corps training yesterday.”

Dulsissia knows there is not much she can do for this far too capable man who saved her and her son and keeps showing them so much kindness, but maybe she can ease his pain a little? “Sit.”

Davarax looks over at her, confused. “What?”

“Sit.” Dulsissia repeats, pointing at the floor to underline her order.

He hesitates, but then slowly sinks down to sit on the floor. “Why…?”

“This,” Dulsissia taps a finger to the armor on his shoulder, “pauldron, is it? Off.”

Still visibly confused, Davarax reaches up and detaches the pauldron. “Dulcy, what are you-”

“I’m no expect, but… I do know how to ease tense muscles a bit.” Dulsissia refuses to think about why she knows how to rub out muscles tense after hours of a rigid posture in uniform. Another stupid thing she’d thought might bring them closer together back then. “Let me know if it hurts too much.”

“I think I can take it.” Davarax replies without trying to hide his amusement.

“I know you can, that’s not why should tell me.” Dulsissia gets on her knees behind him so she reach his shoulder and starts feeling around to get the correct grip before she starts massaging. “I want you to tell me because I don’t want to hurt you. And suffering through the hurt in this case wouldn’t achieve anything. It’s just silly. You don’t become a better fighter by putting yourself through pointless pain, my good Sir. It’s just-”

“Silly.” Davarax says, still horribly amused.

“Yes. Exactly.” Dulsissia pushes a little harder and finds where she can feel a tight tendon. All the layers of his underarmor makes it a bit difficult, but she starts to work on it. “I don’t know why some thinks it is cool to pointlessly ignore pain. I get why you might have to in a fight, but this? It’s so-”

“Silly.” Davarax concludes, half-laughing.

“Yes!” Dulsissia declares, giving his shoulder a light slap.

In a flash, Davarax twists, gets his right arm around her waist and hoists her forward and around to land across his lap, her back cradled by his left arm. “Hitting people in the shoulder causes pain, you know?”

Initially startled by the abrupt change of her position, Dulsissia relaxes in his grip and gives him a sweet smile. “You can take it.”

“Hmm.” Davarax hums. “I’m not sure. I’m a delicate soul.”

She giggles. Dulsissia can’t believe she giggles yet again, but being around him… It’s like forgetting all the bad stuff in her life and just being hopeful again. “In that case, how can I make it up to you?”

“I have a couple of ideas.” Davarax replies, his low voice a sweet caress.

Curious and a little giddy, Dulsissia lowers her eyelashes in a coy move she hasn’t used since… ages ago. “I’m listening…”

“One, spend a couple of hours with me tomorrow. Just you and me. No kids. No interruptions.”

Dulsissia feels heat rising in her face. She can’t think of a better way to spend a couple of hours. And considering that Corin spends most of his time with Din or the other kids these days, he probably won’t mind it much if his mother is too busy to hover. “Okay. We can do that. A-and what’s the second idea?”

“My second idea…” Davarax’ right hand moves up to slide behind her neck and he bends down so his t-visor hover right in front of her face. “A kiss to make it better?”

Her heart flutters like crazy. Dulsissia is fairly certain her face is approaching a rather unflattering shade of red by now. “We can do that too…”

“Yeah?” Davarax’ hand caresses her neck.

Dulsissia swallows, already a little breathless. “Yeah.”

She feels his left arm tightening behind her back, lifting her a little up and against him, at the same time as Davarax’ right hand moves up to cup the back of her head. A couple of months ago, she might not have seen the point of a simple forehead touch, but now? Now that she slides her own arms around his neck and meets him halfway, the two of them holding on and curling up together like one, feeling them breathe together, betting even their hearts are beating in synch, she can only pity her old self.

Lifting her feet, Dulsissia tries to make her way from the kitchen area over to the refresher without stepping on a child. All of Davarax’ children are currently present in her and Corin’s quarters and they lying on their bellies on the floor, entirely focused on a boardgame Paz had brought. Dulsissia glances down at the boardgame as she manoeuvrers her way through the minefield of children. It appears as if Din is giving Barthor a run for his credits. No wonder he looks so grouchy.

Well, there is one child not lying on the floor and that is Raga, who has clearly lost interest in the game and is merely sitting on Paz’ lower back while braiding some cloth into yet another hair tie to her growing collection.

Dulsissia almost makes it to the refresher, knowing she’s going to need the time to do her hair and try to make herself look good, when there is a knock on the door.

Sighing, seeing how none of the children are going to open the door, even her sweet Corin is too busy cozying up with Din to notice, Dulsissia enters the minefield yet again and struggles her way over to the door.

Huffing, she pushes the hair out of her face just as she presses the button and the door slides open to reveal Davarax.

“Oh.” She blinks surprised. He’s not supposed to be here for another hour. “I thought…”

Davarax sighs and looks down. “Listen, there’s been a change of plans.”

Dulsissia can tell from the tone of his voice that it isn’t good news. She absently crosses her arms and braces herself. “What’s happened?”

He doesn’t lift his visor. “Nevarro is not our only Covert. We have several. And we keep creating new ones, to have room for more people and in case of emergencies.”

This makes sense to Dulsissia, so why does his words make her body tense up?

“She’s sending me and someone else to a new location to eliminate a threat and set up a new Covert.” Davarax finishes.

So, he’s going away again. Dulsissia feels a heavy weight of disappointment drop into her stomach but she forces herself to keep a brave face on. “It’s for the good of the Covert. I understand.” She clears her throat. “How long… do you think it will take?” Two weeks? Three? More?

“Six months.” Davarax replies, lifting his t-visor to look at her at last. “If everything goes according to plan.” But the tone of his voice also says he has no faith in that happening. He sounds… tired.

“That’s…“ Dulsissia has to clear her throat again. “Okay. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. We’re starting preparations now.” Davarax shakes his head. “That’s not the worst.”

Now she feels a jolt of actual fear. “There’s something worse?”

“She’s sending Dez Vizla too.” Davarax says. “And he’s insisting on bringing Paz along.”

“What?” Dulsissia exclaims and Davarax grabs her arm, so she lowers her voice after a quick glance back at the children now watching them with curious looks. “He’s twelve.” She hisses. “It’s not safe out there for him.”

Davarax merely shakes his head again. “I know. I voted against it, but they think I’m too soft on ‘my kids’.” He lets her go and takes a moment to simply lean against the door frame, as if he hasn’t the strength to stand upright by his own power, then he straightens and looks into the room. “I have to tell him. Send him out to me?”

For half a second, Dulsissia wants to say no. She wants to shut the door and refuse to open it for him or that horrible Vizla man, but then her brain kicks in and she gives a faint nod. This isn’t something Davarax agrees with or even wants to do, but he is helpless to prevent it and it is best Paz hears it from him.

Leaning against the wall of her room, looking out into the hallway through the open door, she watches as Davarax talks to Paz over by the door to his room. She can tell the moment Paz realizes what Davarax is explaining to him by the frantic shake of Paz’ head and when he knows there is no way to escape his father’s command by the defeated slump that follows Davarax’ comforting hand on his shoulder.

It’s in the middle of the night, but Dulsissia can’t sleep. It’s hours since Corin cried himself to sleep and she can tell by the sound of his even breathing that he’s finally found peace, but not her.

She keeps staring up at the ceiling. Everything inside her is a churning turmoil.

Davarax is leaving. Paz’ father is dragging him into danger. And the other children are miserable.

She is miserable.

Why now? There weren’t that many new souls in the Covert. And why Davarax? The leader could have sent anyone. Was it because of Dulsissia? Was this her revenge for Dulsissia not heeding her warning and staying away from him if she didn’t take the Creed?

What if she will never see Davarax again? What if something happens and he never comes back home? That is one thought she cannot stand.

Dulsissia takes care to make as little noise as possible as she sneaks out of bed and tiptoes on bare feet over to the door. Never before has a door made as loud a whoosh as the one her door now makes. Cringing, she looks over at Corin, but he’s still asleep. Good.

The hallway is cold, she’s just wearing her simple nightgown, but she can’t risk getting dressed in case it would wake Corin up. The door whooshes loudly again as it closes behind her, she waits but doesn’t hear any sign of Corin waking up so she walks over to knock on Davarax’ door.

He’s probably asleep. He should be asleep She hopes he’s asleep. He needs sleep to be rested for tomorrow.

The door slides open, revealing a fully dressed and armored Davarax, who seems as puzzled to see her as she is to find him awake. “Dulcy? What’s wrong?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” She hears how it sounds like an accusation.

Davarax’ helmet pulls back a little. “I don’t know. I…. Thinking too much, I guess.”

Dulsissia deflates. “Can I come in?”

That seems to puzzle him even more and he hesitates before taking a step aside and gesturing her to come in. “Sure.”

Dulsissia walks inside. It’s strange, now that she thinks about it. She’s had him in her room countless times by now, but she’s never been in his.

It’s a nice room. Small, but tidy. He has a neat row of vibro-blades on the wall. Two blasters hanging there as well. She suspects what those things on the shelves up above the bed are not decorations, but some kind of explosive devices. Clothes are neatly folded and stacked on a chair in the corner or the room with a bag on the floor next to it. The only hint of luxury is the large bed at the very end of the room, with bright white sheets and a thick fur cover.

Then she sees the most beautiful holo-picture of Paz, Raga, Barthor and Din standing on a writing desk. It hurts her heart and makes her at peace with her decision to be here.

“Dulcy?” Davarax asks, sounding a little worried. “Talk to me.”

“It’s going to be a lot longer than six months, isn’t it?” She says.

Dulsissia hears him sigh somewhere behind her. “Probably.” He takes a step towards her. “Listen, you will still be safe here. You and Corin. You can still make a life here. A-and maybe even meet someone else…”

“I don’t want someone else.” Dulsissia states. “I want you.”

She hears him step closer. She feels his gloved fingers slide down the back of her bare upper arm, as if he’s afraid to touch her but wants the contact too much to be able to stop himself. “Dulcy…”

Dulsissia turns her head a little in his direction and Davarax instantly backs up a couple of steps.

“Sorry…” He sounds a little shaky. “Sorry. That was crossing the line. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“When Din broke his nose, you took off your gloves to help him.” Dulsissia says. “So you can take off your gloves.”

“Yes.”

“Not including your helmet, can you take the rest off?”

A moment’s pause. “Yes.”

Dulsissia turns to face him, still strangely calm. “Do you want to? Now?”

Davarax stands frozen, but he can’t hide the hitch in his breath. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” She replies. “Now please answer my question; do you want to take them off?”

Another moment of hesitation and this time Dulsissia can tell his eyes are moving over her. She knows if she was to see her own reflection, she’d see a woman without any make up, in a shapeless and sleeveless white nightgown that barely reaches her ankles, sporting unkempt and wild hair. She wonders what he sees. Because she notices how Davarax’ hands clench into fists, like he has to stop himself from reaching out for her.

Finally he gives her his answer in a quiet, almost shameful whisper. “Yes.”

Nodding, pleased they want the same thing, Dulsissia reaches up and slides the nightgown off her shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. “Then take them off.”

The sight of her seems to knock the air out of his lungs for a second, then his hands move to start removing his armor, his clothes, and not once does he take his eyes off her.

Dulsissia watches as more and more of him is revealed and realizes she had been right; he really is lovely all over. Beautiful. With his golden skin, finely tuned muscles and battle scars.

Once his body is as bare as hers, he waits for her to decide what happens next and she walks over to him. Placing her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating as fast as hers, Dulsissia savours the heat of his skin and wants to place her lips to every scar. So much pain is written on his skin. “I’m guessing you Mandalorians have some secrets when it comes to this as well?”

“Some.” Davarax replies in a hoarse whisper, strained with the effort of keeping still.

She looks up at him. “Will you show me?”

He does.

And for a while, all she can think about it how good it feels, how good he feels, the heat of him, the weight of him, all of him. Her whimpers mixed with his half-choked groans. Her fingers digging into his back and his hand gripping her hip. And she will never ever forget the feeling of him shaking apart in her embrace, allowing himself to crumble, trusting her to put him back together again.

After, she holds him to her chest so he won’t see the tears in her eyes as she thinks about how that they might not ever have this again.

Dulsissia stays as long as she dares, but eventually she sits up and scouts for where she’d dropped her nightgown. She has to get back before Corin wakes up.

Davarax’ bare fingers trail down her back. “Marry me.”

Blinking surprised, she looks back at him. “What?”

On his back, sprawling carelessly, barely covered by sheets, Davarax moves his hand to cup her face. “Marry me.”

Now it is her turn to huff a laugh and Dulsissia lifts a hand to cover his. “You definitely need sleep.”

Davarax sits up and leans forward to place his forehead to hers in a sweet kov’nyn. “Marry me.”

Dulsissia swallows hard, memorizes the feeling for a little while, then she gently pulls free and gets out of bed. “I’ll wait for you.” She walks over to where she can pick up her nightgown and puts it on. “I won’t be with anyone else. You have my heart.” Dulsissia looks over at him. “But I can’t marry you. I’m never getting married again. I’m sorry.”

Davarax sighs, looks down and then back up again. He nods. “I understand.”

Dulsissia tries to smile but fails. She draws a deep breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Davarax nods and he merely watches as she leaves.

They are standing by the door leading into Nevarro city and Dulsissia is doing her very best to be strong for the children. She, Corin, Din, Raga and Barthor are lined up to say their goodbyes to Paz.

Poor Paz, all dressed up in travel gear meant for a grown man and looking utterly miserable.

Corin is hiding halfway behind Dulsissia’s leg, he hasn’t done that in months, while Din is the first to step forward toward Paz.

“You promised…” Din whispers, pale and scared. “What if they come while you’re gone?”

“They won’t.” Paz replies in a shaky voice, placing a hand on Din’s shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. He tries to will conviction into his voice. “Okay? They won’t.”

Before Din can say much of anything, Raga rushes forward to throw her arms around Paz’ torso and sobs out loud as she buries her face in his chest. Not letting go of Din, Paz closes his eyes and bends down to place a kiss on Raga’s hair before resting his cheek against the curls and wraps his other arm around her.

Dulsissia has to look away and blink away tears of her own.

“Don’t go.” Raga barely manages to say through the heaving sobs.

“He has to.” Barthor says quietly and with no small amount of sadness himself. He reaches out and runs a gentle hand up and down Raga's back.

Paz lifts his arm from Raga’s back and holds it out so Barthor can move in and then he hugs them both before pulling Din close with his other am. A second after getting the three in place, Paz lifts his head and opens the arm he has around Din again, wiggling his fingers for Corin to join them.

Corin doesn’t hesitate. He darts over and squeezes in tight next to Din, letting Paz lock them with his arm as he does with Barthor and Raga.

Dulsissia discretely wipes at her eyes and looks down just as Paz lifts his gaze to her. He can’t really fit all four in his embrace, but he’s trying his very best. “You…” Paz swallows hard and tries again. “You have to look after them for me while I’m gone. Understand?”

Raga sobs even louder. Din’s fingers are digging into Paz’ jacket.

“I promise.” Dulsissia replies, even as everything in her rebels at the fact that this little boy, Paz is just a child himself, should feel such a responsibility. He’s too young for such a weight.

The sound of heavy footsteps makes her look over and soon Dez Vizla enters the hallway, followed by Davarax, and the leader of the Vizla clan doesn’t even pause as he walks by his son. “Paz. Let’s go.”

Raga wails even louder. Barthor backs away, so does Corin, and eventually a reluctant Din, but Paz has to pry Raga off himself and he more or less shoves her at Dulsissia before he runs after his father, failing entirely to hide his own tears.

Dulsissia restrains Raga, desperately trying to run after Paz, and looks over at Davarax standing there. “You keep him safe, Davarax. Whatever it takes. You hear me? You keep him safe and you make sure the both of you come back to us.”

Davarax nods. He looks at each child in turn, then sighs and crouches down. “You hear that? I’ll keep Paz safe. I promise. And we’ll be back before you know it. Then we will all be together again.”

Barthor cautiously approaches him. “Don’t forget us?”

Davarax reaches out and gives his hair a light ruffle. “Never. Not as long as I live.” He then looks over at Din. “I will be back, Din. Trust me.”

Din merely stares down at the floor.

Corin is next to approach him. “I will look after mommy until you get back.”

Davarax does his little trademark huff-laugh and taps Corin lightly under the chin with a finger. “I appreciate that, Corin. Thank you.” He then reaches out a hand and puts his palm gently to Raga’s back as the little girl is clinging to Dulsissia’s leg and crying so hard her small body is shaking. He has no words that will take away her pain, so in the end Davarax straightens back up, hesitates, looks at each of then in turn once more, then he walks away.

The door closes behind him and he’s gone.

Feeling a deep hollowness spreading inside, Dulsissia absently bends down to pick up Raga. “Let’s go.” And she carries the heartbroken soul, while the other three morose children walk behind her.

Davarax made sure to get one of his friends from the Fighting Corps to step in to train the children, if only twice a week. And Decco takes over Dulsissia’s training, which makes it a lot less fun and brings a lot more tough work instead.

“You’re as bad as he was.” Decco grumbles, crouching next to where Dulsissia is squirming on the floor after she got sent flying there by the other woman.

“As bad as who?” Dulsissia asks, wondering whether she can be bothered to get up or not.

“As Davarax.” Decco straights up and shoves at Dulsissia with her boot. “He complained when I trained him too. Now get up.”

Dulsissia remains where she is and frowns thoughtfully. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to be your mother so don’t make me put you over my knee.” Decco threatens. “Get up.”

Dulsissia scrambles to her feet.

It doesn’t take more than two days before Davarax’ absence takes its toll, though. Dulsissia is surprised to find Din’s mother on her door one morning, asking her with resigned worry if her son was there. He’d disappeared some time during the night and no one knows where he is.

“He’s not here. Sorry.” Dulsissia says and the Mandalorian wanders off to ask the next person.

Considering her options for a moment, Dulsissia looks back at where Corin is sitting on his bed, reading. “I need to go check something, sweetie. Can you be a good boy and stay here?”

Corin shrugs. He’s clearly not heard what the question was about, otherwise he’d be running around looking for Din too. Good.

“Okay then. Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” Dulsissia slips out and closes the door behind her before heading down to the storage room Davarax had revealed to be Din’s hiding spot.

At first she can’t see him and Dulsissia is a bit relieved she hadn’t told his mother she knew where Din was, but then she takes a step further into the cluttered room and a blanket across an old pilot seat moves.

“Din?” Dulsissia steps closer and she chokes on a startled sound when the blanket goes flying, revealing Din curled up on the seat and holding a sharp piece of metal out in a defensive move.

Once the shock is over, Dulsissia cautiously approaches the boy. “Din, it’s me. It’s just me. Dulcy.”

Blinking, as if in a trance, Din finally seems to actually see her and he slowly lowers the weapon.

“Are you okay?” Dulsissia asks, daring to crouch down next to him, seeing how he’s still acting rather dazed. “What are you doing down here?”

“I thought…” Din mumbles, looking around, frowning confused. “I thought they were here?”

“Who, Din?” Dulsissia reaches out and cautiously eases the weapon out of his hands. He lets her take it, looking increasingly distressed and confused.

“Them!” The boy gulps for air. “The droids. They’re going to kill us all. Like they killed my mom and dad.”

“There are no droids here, Din.” Dulsissia puts the weapon away and then gently brushes the hair away from his sweaty brow. “No droids. You’re safe.”

Din shakes his head and his eyes brim with tears. “No. I’m not! He said he’d keep them away and they stayed away, but now he’s gone away! Him and Davarax both! And now the droids are going to come and kill us all!”

“No…” Dulsissia inches up to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around the shivering boy and hugs him close when she hears the first quiet sobs he’s trying to hide. “No, baby, no. You’re safe here in the Covert. We all are. The droids won’t come for you or any of us. It’s going to be okay.”

She sits with him until the tears dry up and Din is able to function somewhat normally again. He’s tired, exhausted and cold, so she ends up carrying him back to his parents.

Forget about the fight training, Dulsissia suspects the muscles she might get is from carrying these children around.

Din makes a miserable sound when she hands him over to his father, but doesn’t fight it. Dulsissia wonders if maybe she should have just brought him back to her room instead, suspecting Corin might have had a calming influence on him, but it wouldn’t be fair to Din’s parents.

“Thank you.” Din’s mother says, sounding both relieved and as exhausted as the son.

“Listen,” Dulsissia decides to risk it, “Din and my son have gotten very close. They are very fond of each other. If you need help with-”

“I appreciate you bringing me my son, but the day when I need help from an outsider is the day you can take my helmet.” The woman snaps and the door slides shut in front of Dulsissia’s face.

Huh. Rude!

It takes about two weeks before there is a knock on Dulsissia’s door and she opens it to find the teacher with the stinky room standing there with a firm grip on Raga’s arm.

The little girl is staring defiantly down at the floor and the man is taking short, angry breaths.

“You think she’s innocent and manageable? You manage her!” The man yanks Raga forward so she stumbles inside the room, “Enjoy!” and stomps away.

Shocked, Dulsissia slowly turns away from staring at his back to looking at the miserable looking child standing in the middle of the room. Raga is rubbing her arm where the man’s hand had been grabbing her and her lips are trembling.

Corin is sitting on his bed, wide-eyed and scared to move.

“Oh, baby…” Dulsissia sighs and closes the door. She walks over to Raga. “Are you okay?”

She nods, but keeps staring at the floor.

Dulsissia crouches down and wraps her arms around her. It takes a little while, but eventually Raga relaxes and leans against her.

Bribing her son and Raga with treats and a new story on the datapad, Dulsissia uses the opportunity to sneak off and talk to Raga’s parents.

Raga’s father doesn’t say much, but Raga’s mother points inside their room, over at where three other children are wrestling on the floor, screaming and pummelling each other. “I hear what you’re saying, Dulcy, but I got my hands full here. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with Raga’s antics right now. My boys are about to take the Creed and I have at least five other assignments I have to finish. Just… send her home. I’ll keep her here until Davarax comes back.”

One of the boys cries out in real pain and Raga’s father turns his t-visor towards them. “HEY! Calm down! The first one who breaks something on someone gets their ass kicked by me!”

Blinking, Dulsissia has to gather herself for a moment before blurting out an idea she comes up with on the spot. “How about I look after her for those hours of school? I can teach her some stuff? I mean, that would be better than her just staying at home?”

Both of Raga’s parents look at her for a second, then the mother says, with no small amount of dry disbelief; “You’d do that…?”

Raga’s father follows it up with; “Why?”

But then there is a thump and something shatters on the floor and the man stalks off inside the room. “Right. That’s it! Who did that? Get back here!”

“No killing!” Raga’s mother shouts after him before turning back to Dulsissia. “I can’t pay you.”

Dulsissia nods. “That’s fine.”

Sighing, Raga’s mother shrugs. “Sure. Fine. Go ahead.” Then there is the sound of some kind of ruckus and she mumbles that she has to go. “I said no killing! I will kick the ass of anyone who dares to die today, I am NOT cleaning that up!”

That is how Dulsissia ends up having Raga around almost as much as Din and her own son and why why she ends up approaching the last of Davarax’ children; “I need your help.”

Barthor looks up from his datapad. He’s sitting in the corner of the common room. Alone. As usual.

“With Davarax and Paz gone, I’ve promised to look after Din and Raga in addition to my own boy and I have no idea how to entertain them or what to teach them or… I need someone who knows stuff to help me set up some sort of activities so they won’t kill each other.” Dulsissia says.

Barthor lowers his datapad and smirks. “You just don’t want me to feel left out when you guys have fun.”

“That too.” Dulsissia admits. “But mostly I really do need your help. All the stuff I used to do as a kid means we have to go outside.”

Barthor considers it, then nods. “I’ll help you.”

Davarax and Paz have been gone for three months when a messenger appears on Dulsissia’s door and hands her a small box with her and the children’s names on it. It’s from Davarax.

The children all get a large lump each of what looks to be a mix of sugar and something even more sweet, to their utter delight as none of them had tried this particular kind before, and Dulsissia finds a cylinder-shaped container within the box with her name written on the lid.

Opening it, Dulsissia gingerly eases out its content into her hand and her eyes instantly well up with tears at the sight of the beautiful wildflower. She places her free hand over her mouth to muffle a faint cry of how much she misses him.

“Mom?” Corin asks, sounding anxious. “Did Davarax do something wrong?”

“No, baby.” Dulsissia whispers, placing a soft kiss on the flower’s delicate petals. “He did something perfectly right.”

After that, she gets an idea. It takes no small amount of courage, but Dulsissia scrounges together the ingredients she needs, slips her blade into her pocket, her blaster into the lining of her pants, and then she goes back up into Nevarro to sell her cookies again.

It takes her several weeks to save up the credits and another one to manage to purchase it, but finally she can gather the children in her room and tell them they are going to record a holo-message to Davarax and Paz.

The children eagerly ramble their words, simple everyday things that has happened to them, and Dulsissia wraps it up by telling Davarax and Paz that they are both sorely missed, to be careful and come back home soon. She knows Davarax will see the flower in her hair.

She packs the small holo-projector with the message into a box along with some cookies and then hands it over to the Mandalorian in charge of communication.

A couple of months later, another small box is delivered to her room and Dulsissia feels a jolt of excitement when she sees the holo-projector inside.

Dulsissia gathers the children and they all huddle together in the room to see the message.

The holo-image sputters slightly as it lights up but then stabilizes and the image of Davarax from the chest up comes into view.

“Greetings from the new Covert.” His voice declares and Dulsissia doesn’t realize she squirms with delight along with the children at the sound of him. “Thank you for the message and the cookies. It really brightened our days.” Davarax turns his visor and gestures someone over. When Paz steps into view, Raga makes a tiny sound. He looks tired, but unharmed.

“Hey.” Paz says, a little awkward, and goes silent until Davarax nudges him. “I, uh, hope you liked the sweets. They got plenty of that here. So that’s good. Uhm. Wish you guys were here.”

With that, the final words a rushed and emotional thing, Paz steps out of frame and Davarax turns back to focus on them again.

“Barthor, I’m expecting your project to be done when I get back and to see it operational. Din, I know this is tough for you, but I’m proud of you that you’re doing so well. Raga, I’ll talk to your teacher when I get back, don’t worry about it. I got your back, remember? Corin, good job, you keep looking after your mom.” Davarax then leans back a little and his voice changes tone from gentle to a far more mischievous one. “Okay, Dulcy, this is when you pause the message and usher the kids out. The rest of this message is just for you.”

Dulsissia’s hand flies out and she presses the pause button while her face flares up red.

The children all whine in disappointment, but Dulsissia shows no mercy. All she can think about is what Davarax will say. “Out. Now. Go play. Food in thirty minutes.”

“But can’t we please stay?” Corin pleads. “We won’t tell him we heard.”

Raga tilts her head, raises her eyebrows, not convinced that this isn’t something she’d like to hear.

Corin frowns while Barthor drags Raga up on her feet as well. “But… Mom doesn’t do grown-up kissy stuff.”

“Oh, sweet angel, she definitely does.” Dulsissia corrects him, gesturing for them to hurry up.

She’d feel guilty if not for the comical look of disbelief on Corin’s face as the others drag him out and how curious she is to hear what Davarax has to say.

The door has barely closed before she activates the message again.

Davarax waits a couple of seconds then he tilts his head. “They gone? Yeah? Okay.” He leans forward again. “I miss you, Dulcy. I miss you like crazy. Dez punched me twice in the head yesterday because I couldn’t focus. It’s been too long. I can’t stop thinking about you. Things haven’t gone smoothly here, like I suspected, and I fear I may shoot the next one who causes trouble and keeps me away from home. From you.” He exhales a laugh, leans back and shakes his head a little, as if he can’t believe his own words, before he focuses on her again and sits back up. “I’m running out of time on the holo, but there is one final thing I wanted to say; Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” His voice is so wonderfully soft at that, before the smile returns to his voice. “I know you don’t speak Mando’a, but now you have a dictionary. You’re a clever girl, Dulcy. Look it up.”

The image flickers as he leans forward and reaches out and then he’s gone.

Heart racing, so emotional she can barely breathe, Dulsissia wants to hug the holo-projector close and cry her eyes out at the same time. She needs him back. She misses him like crazy too!

But no time to cry, she has a message to decipher.

It’s not easy juggling four children, training with Decco, sneaking up into Nevarro to sell her cookies and deal with everyday challenges as well, but it keeps her busy and prevents her from sliding into self-pity.

Plus, the challenge of Davarax’ message is a delightful distraction.

Dulsissia could just play the line for Decco, but that wouldn’t be right. His words was for Dulsissia and Dulsissia alone, so she decides to try to write down the words as she hears them and go from there.

It takes a bit of work and a bit of time, but the reward? Oh, Dulsissia can hardly believe it.

He loves her. He just told her he loves her. He will carry her in his heart forever.

The abrupt marriage proposal had seemed like a spontaneous thing, born out of residual oxytocins and the distress of having to leave, but even after telling him that can never happen; he still loves her.

Dulsissia is not proud of it, but she spends the next ten minutes just crying. She’s feeling too much and it’s the only way she knows how to deal with it. Once that is done, when she feels calmer, that’s when Dulsissia has to find some discrete way of letting him know she feels the same.

If she was a Mandalorian, she would have sent him a weapon, right? But she’s not. And he’d said he preferred her cookies anyway. So…

Dulsissia records a message with the kids, adds her own after like he’d done to her, telling him just how much she misses him too, that he has to be careful and adds the word she’d learned and rehearsed saying just for this moment; ner cyare.

And in the box, she adds a small bag with a cookie meant for Davarax alone. A cookie shaped like a blaster.

It becomes something to look forward to, something that makes the wait a little less torturous, those packages with these short messages from Davarax and Paz. Visible evidence that they’re alive and sweet, reassuring words that the connection between them all are still there.

Then comes the day when it’s been a year since Davarax and Paz left. A whole year! How is that possible? And it’s been three months since she heard from them. Decco reassures her that the two are fine, otherwise the Covert would have been buzzing with news, but still… she doesn’t like it.

The explanation comes three weeks later, when Corin and Din come running into the room and startles Dulsissia in the middle of wrapping up her wrist, still swollen and stiff after yesterday’s training accident.

“They’re back!” Corin blurts out.

“The ship just landed!” Din adds, equally excited.

“Who? What are you two talking about?” Dulsissia asks, fastening the bandage with a frown.

“Paz and Davarax, of course!” Corin shouts, as if he can’t believe he has to spell it out.

Dulsissia jolts as if someone just punched her in the stomach. She can’t breathe. They’re back?!

“We have to go meet them.” Corin says. “Right, mom?”

She automatically looks over at the mirror she can barely see in the refresher room, thinking she should pretty herself up before Davarax sees her, but Dulsissia realizes that she can’t wait. She looks back at the boys. “Get Barthor. I’ll get Raga.”

It’s not long after that that they are gathered up by the door to Nevarro, where they had said their goodbyes. The children are eerily quiet, just stares at the door, but Dulsissia can’t blame them. She is failing to find a single word of reassurance.

They wait. Seconds tick by. Minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen.

The door opens. Dez Vizla steps inside, barely deigns to send a glance their way as he walks on, and then; there he is.

Davarax appears, stepping inside and is just… there. He’s there. Real, alive, breathing, there.

The children rush forward. Dulsissia can’t move. She can’t anything. She’s frozen in place.

Crouching down, Davarax greets the children with a delighted laugh and accepts everything from hugs to semi-angry shoves for staying away so long, and only once they have started to calm down does he cautiously glance up at her.

Dulsissia tries to smile, but her stupid eyes well up with tears again.

Davarax straightens back up and walks over to her. He barely has time to open his arms before Dulsissia rushes forward and throws her arms around his neck, hugging the man with a touch of desperation. She bites her lower lip hard to hold back the sobs, just holds on tight. Dulsissia loves how his arms goes around her waist to pull her impossibly close while his helmet burrows against her neck.

For a little while, they are allowed to hold each other and linger in the realness of each other, before Dulsissia makes herself lean back a little. Her hands slide over to cup his helmet to hold him still so she can lean her forehead to his.

Davarax shivers at the contact. His arms are still not letting her back away a single inch.

They might have remained like that for ages if not for Dulsissia being distracted by Raga rushing forward with a happy sound and she looks over just in time to see the girl throw her arms around Paz and be hugged tightly in return.

Placing a hand against Davarax’ chest, Dulsissia eases herself away from him and watches the boy with no small amount of unexpected sadness.

It’s Paz, there is no doubt about that, she’d recognize him while being blindfolded, and he more than confirms it with the arms eagerly reaching out for Din and Corin and Barthor to join as well, but Dulsissia can’t help mourn the fact that she’ll never see his sweet face again.

Paz is wearing the trademark blue Vizla helmet.

That brings a lot of mixed feelings to Dulsissia, but right now she decides to focus on the fact that her two boys are finally back with them. They are alive, unharmed and back where they belong. She pushes the thoughts away and smiles at Davarax. “Welcome home.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #What if

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

KILL4ME

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader (and kind of x female!OC but that’s not the main focus of anything)

Summary: You're a new actress trying to get your start. You end up getting your first role cast in a music video for Marilyn Manson’s “KILL4ME” music video but it turns out to be much more than you expected.

Warnings: SMUT (male x female, female x female)

A/N: 1) I made the reader straight with no prior female x female experiences. I don’t know why if I’m being honest but that’s how it is so please don’t come at me for it. 2) This is NOT how the film industry should work. If you’re trying to get into the industry, please stay safe, be responsible, and recognize red flags. Typically, randomly popping up pornographic requests is NOT professional or safe. This is just a fantasy I had while watching the music video and was written this way strictly for entertainment purposes.

Word Count: 5696

__________________________

This project requires nudity and sexual scenes. If you are not comfortable, do not apply.

The warning had been clear as day and yet, here you were, sitting in your car at the old mansion that was the filming site, nerves going off the charts and feeling less than comfortable with the imminent nudity and sexual scenes. You were an actor, you reminded yourself. This was the only job you’d landed since arriving in Los Angeles and, despite your promises to yourself and your family that you wouldn’t resort to full nudity for a project, there were bills that needed paying and your waitressing job wasn’t cutting it.

Besides, shouldn’t you be thrilled? This wasn’t just any music video you’d landed a role in but a music video for Marilyn Manson! He was a goth rock legend and you couldn’t hide your excitement when you’d found out who you’d been booked to work for.

But still, the nudity and sexuality made you uneasy. There hadn’t been a script or anything. Your only instructions were to come looking your best and with an open, ready to work mindset. So here you were, physically feeling like a million bucks but butterflies going crazy within.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, you opened the door to your barely working 2008 Honda Civic, feeling even more self-conscious when you saw the other cars that were parked outside of the massive mansion were all beautiful and sleek, most of them black and very expensive looking.

Crew members stirred around outside, entering and exiting the house with lights and props and sound equipment, everything needed for the production. You walked through the large black door that led into the beautiful white mansion, opening into an equally fantastic interior. You audibly gasped, “This is beautiful…”

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice questioned from beside you and you spun quickly to face her, snapping out of your amazed daze.

“Yes.” You answered hastily.

She checked the clipboard in her hand, “Great, you’re right on time. Come right this way, we’re gonna get you into hair and makeup.” You were about to reply when she’d taken off down the hall without giving you a moment to speak so you followed, avoiding the moving equipment around you.

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked away into a small room that was full of makeup, hair styling tools, and costumes. Nobody told you what they were doing as they pulled your hair straight and did up your makeup, surprisingly simpler than you’d expected with just light eyeshadow and moderate eyeliner.

“Alrighty, now I’m gonna have you undress and put on that robe over there.” The man in charge of costumes directed.

Your brows furrowed, “How undressed?”

“All the way, sweetie. No panties, no bra. It’s all gotta go.” He must have seen the uneasy look on your face because he gave you an unsympathetic shrug, “You signed up for a nude project, hun. Welcome to Hollywood.”

“Y/N is here. I believe that’s it, Mr. Manson.” The same woman as earlier announced as you entered the room you were supposed to be briefed in. It took everything in your power to remain professional when you saw Marilyn Manson standing there, talking casually with another girl who you assumed to be a co-star.

Like you, his makeup was already done up and he was in full costume. His face was painted pale white with a black loop drawn across one half and his other half blank except for the unnaturally blue contact and dark panda-like eyeliner. His lips were stained bright red and you almost felt like you were looking at a picture of him online.

“Thank you, Yolanda.” None other than The Marilyn Manson (and yes, “The” was now an official part of his name in your mind) thanked the woman who you assumed to be an assistant. “Come on in, Y/N.” He beckoned you into the room and you tried to front your most professional, most confident face but the way you held your robe tight to your body gave you away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Manson.” You came up, reaching to shake his hand, “It’s a real honor to get to work with you.” Kiss ass, you muttered to yourself.

Instead of shaking your hand, he simply waved his hand in the air, “Ah, the pleasantries. I hope it will be a pleasure to work with you as well.”

You retracted your extended hand awkwardly, unsure of whether or not that was a blow off or him just being mysterious and cool, and scuttled to stand with the other girl. She was beautiful and blonde, tall and thin. Model-esque. You felt insecure next to her, especially in front of someone as influential as Manson. You were just you, an inexperienced actress-to-be, on her first professional job with a bunch of people who definitely knew their way around a camera.

“Alright, so I know you came here with minimal details,” Marilyn began, a weirdly neutral look on his very painted face, his tone flat and low. It was hard to read him with his contacts in. “Hopefully, that’s a good sign this will work well. You’re both willing to take risks. You’re flexible. Well, I’m here to give you the details. As you know, there is nudity and sex required for this video. It will be between you two,” You stiffened up awkwardly as he gestured all too casually between the two of you, “And my old friend here.”

On cue, none other than Johnny Depp walked into the room. Your jaw visibly hit the floor. There is no fucking way. “Hello.” He greeted with a smile, the same smile that you’d seen millions of times in his movies that you’d binged every so often.

Were you the only one feeling so shocked? Why the hell was the actress next to you so calm? Why was Johnny so calm? You were about pretend to fuck Johnny fucking Depp!

Johnny stepped forward to shake your hand, “I’m Johnny, nice to meet you,” He introduced politely.

Starstruck, you took his hand, “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you as well.” Then he leaned down and kissed your hand, actually kissed your hand like a fucking gentleman, eyes never leaving yours. God, the way he looked up at you through his strands of middle parted 90’s hair… it was enough to make your breath catch.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he moved from you to the girl next to you, “I’m Marie.” She responded to his introduction politely. He brought her hand to his lips as well but, maybe you were crazy - just imagining some fantasy, but it felt detached and fast when he did it to her.

“Great, well now that we all know each other,” Marilyn interjected as Johnny moved back to stand by his friend, “I’ll continue. I’ve already shot my parts so I’ll be here to direct you if needed but I want this as natural as possible. Aside from a few artistic shots, I need this to be raw, primal, and absolutely fucking filthy.”

You and Marie listened on in intent silence, soaking in his every word. But you found it hard to focus when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny eyeing you. No, no, it couldn’t be. He was probably just zoned out behind you.

***

A few hours later, all of the artistic shots had been done. There were shots of you pulling up thigh high stockings that clipped onto the garter belts hanging from your nearly sheer black underwear and having a leather corset tightened tightly on your back, cinching your waist smaller than you’d ever seen it. You had put on massively high heels and large, luxurious costume jewelry.

Even though the outfit could be seen as objectifying, you’d never felt more confident or powerful in your life. After your last shot of just your nearly bare thighs, you were dismissed momentarily so Marie could film her sections.

You walked over to your bag and took out a water bottle, not realizing how much this took out of you, running the same seemingly simple shots over and over again under blaring lights. “How long have you been acting?”

Oh God. It was him.

You turned to see Johnny standing next to you, very close, much closer than was considered polite distance but not so close that you felt suffocated. He looked gorgeous, hair hanging perfect from his beautiful tan skin. Earrings hung from his lobes, dangling just slightly. His white button up shirt was only buttoned half way, showing off his smooth, toned chest that barely showed any signs of his older age (not that he was ancient but he was definitely on your list of celebrities over 45 that you would let rail you). But the cherry on top was the eyeliner. The fucking eyeliner. It took you back to so many of his characters that you’d fallen in love with but with the white shirt and earrings, you were getting almost a refined Jack Sparrow crossed with Sweeney Todd feeling and God you’d never been so turned on by a pirate/ serial killer.

“You okay?” He asked, and you blinked rapidly, totally horrified that you’d been staring.

“Oh! Sorry! Um, this is my first real shoot, actually. You know how Hollywood is…” You chuckled awkwardly, reaching your hand around to rub your neck. Of course, he knew how Hollywood was, stupid! You cursed yourself, hoping you didn’t sound as dumb as you felt.

He leaned a hand up against the wall, “Yeah, I know how that is. But don’t worry, this is a great place to start.” He reassured, looking away at the set oh so casually. Your eyes trailed up his arm that had planted itself just beside you on the wall. Was he really doing what you thought he was doing?

No! He was Johnny Depp. He could have whichever woman he wanted at the bat of an eyelash. Why would he want you?

“Y/N! We’re ready for your scene with Marie!” The director called to you from behind the camera and you perked up.

“I better go.” You nodded over to the set, walking away awkwardly, almost scared that you be perceived as rude for having to do your job.

He chuckled and waved you on. This made you blush bright red and turn to run off to set.

You found yourself directed to a bed, “All right,” The director began, Marilyn standing directly next to him, hand on his chin as he watched his vision be brought to life, “Now, first, we’re going to get shots of you making out. I need it hot, I need it passionate. I don’t care if you’ve never kissed a girl before, make it look like you have. Next, we’re going to do totally nude shots of you grinding.”

Your eyelids fluttered slightly in shock at what he said. Okay, you could do that, you hyped yourself up.

Before you knew it, you were lying on the bed, Marie on top of you. Her soft lips were against yours and her nails raked gently down your throat, sending shocks down your body. Even though you were acting, it was hard to separate the feelings that arose, regardless of your sexuality. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like this. Your hands tangled in her hair and your eyes were screwed shut.

“Cut!” The director yelled and Marie immediately pulled back, snapping out of character and back into her over-professional attitude. You, on the other hand, needed a brief moment to pull out of character. After just a second, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, Marie still straddling you. Your breasts filled the tight push up bra you wore but you felt surprisingly comfortable in it, even around all these people. That was, until you glanced over to see Johnny standing beside Marilyn, at first looking at a monitor and reviewing footage, but then over at you, his gaze stuck on your accentuated chest.

Your face flushed red as you quickly looked away, not seeing the amused smirk that graced his face. Little did you know, he was very aware of what he was doing and very pleased with your reaction.

“That was perfect. Now we’re gonna move onto the sex scenes.” He waved you and Marie over and you obeyed once she climbed off your torso.

Marilyn and Johnny too came over, completing the small group. Marilyn spoke, “Now you knew there was sex and nudity and I’m very pleased with how this is turning out,” He paused, giving you both a very serious look, “But now, I’m going to ask something of you that you probably aren’t comfortable with. Usually with sex scenes, there’s fabric in place to hide cocks and shit but I don’t want any of that. It distracts actors from the scene and there’s always the issue of whether or not you see it. I want raw, I want primal, I want absolutely fucking filthy.”

He was quiet for a moment, waiting for you and Marie to piece together his request, but filling in the rest when he saw both of your professional exteriors crack in confusion, “I want you to all actually fuck. Only if you’re comfortable with it but if you’re not you’ll be paid for the work you’ve done and we’ll find someone to replace you.”

You nearly choked, “Like… porn? You want this to be porn?” Johnny chuckled to himself, seeing your embarrassed, nervous reaction. You were so cute.

He looked pensive for just a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I suppose so.” He answered bluntly, “Like I said, only if you’re comfortable with it but, if not, you’ll be fired for the rest of the video.”

Oh God, were you really about to agree to porn? Like actual fucking porn? Three way porn at that! But three porn with Johnny Depp…. It was the one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t do. But then again, your rent was due in two weeks and you were $300 short. “I’m in.” You answered, almost regretting it immediately.

“Me too.” Marie agreed, long arms crossed across her chest.

“Good. Now let’s get to it.”

The lesbian sex scene had gone by relatively hitch free, save for a few awkward placement issues. Marie, being straight as an arrow, had no clue what she was doing, and you too were inexperienced in the department but with a little direction, the scene was finished.

She knelt on her knees, holding your naked hips up and grinding your bare core against her own. Your eyes were closed, trying to remember every previous sexual encounter and porno you’d seen to try and make the sexiest faces and the sexiest form.

Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off you as you writhed on the bed, completely naked and grinding up against another beautiful woman. Everything about you looked so authentic but innocent but dirty. He found himself craving you in the most unprofessional ways as he watched your breasts bounce with every roll of your hips.

When the scene was over, you nearly jumped off the bed and rushed for your robe. You were embarrassingly wet right now, the eye contact you’d made with Johnny while having your clit rubbed was just absolutely intoxicating and you were just thankful that you were able to control yourself enough to not get your juices all over Marie.

As they changed the scene around, you stood beside Johnny and Marilyn. “Method actor?” He asked.

You cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You looked pretty into the scene up there. Wonder what you were thinking about…” He continued. Your heart was in your throat. His tone was dark and sultry and implied exactly what he thought you were thinking about and boy was he correct. “As a method actor myself, I completely understand your… position.”

Johnny looked down at you, his dark eyes unyielding as he dove into your very soul and could see you every fantasy.

“Okay! Everyone on set!”

Ignore the cameras, you screamed at yourself. You’re not doing porn, you’re just having a threesome with Johnny Depp and some girl named Marie. Yeah, that was a convincing story to tell yourself. Just relax in this totally normal situation. Pfft, as if.

But you were an actress. Then something occurred to you, the ghost of a voice spoke to you. It was actually words spoken by Johnny in an old interview you’d seen him do, words that had stuck with you as a foundation in your training: “The most important thing that an actor needs to do is not to act, but to react. That's what it is all about, and you do one of the most difficult things in the world, which is to just be--to be in the state of being.”

Just relax. React to the scene. Be in the scene. Hell, this wasn’t even a scene anymore. This was a secret fantasy you’d never known you’d had coming to life. There wasn’t even any acting involved. So just be.

“Action!”

Immediately in character, you caressed Marie sexually, hands running along her sides as you nipped along her neck. Now that you were the dominant character, her scantily clad body was putty in your hands. Your teeth raked along her skin and you felt her shudder beneath your touch, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

Then a quiet metallic sound drew your attention. You and Marie both looked over towards the ornate door to see Johnny standing there, looking in through the gold grated peephole.

Marie looked at you, her eyes full of question. Should you let him in? Honestly, you weren’t sure if your characters knew who he was. No! Stop, you’re not playing a character now. You’re you. You are the character.

You chewed your lip seductively and walked over, legs crossing and hips rocking as your heels clicked on the hardwood floor. You reached down, perfectly manicured fingers gripping the handle delicately and unlocked the door. Before he could even get ahold of his surroundings, you had him by the collar and pulled him in. He could play all the sexy flirty games he wanted, but right now, you were in control and you were going to make him want you more than anything, even if it all was just for the camera.

His hands found your hips immediately as he attempted to steady himself but, gosh, all he wanted to do was take you here and now, preferably without Marie or the cameras, but he figured that if that’s what it took to fuck you, he was more than willing to compromise.

You pulled him in, your lips finally crashing against his. At first, he was hesitant but only for half a second, before he returned the kiss with even more fervor than you’d gone in with. Marie came up on his side and nibbled his ear, hands roaming up and down his chest between your very close bodies.

Johnny pulled back from this kiss and twisted just enough to snake an arm around Marie’s thin body and led her to face you. Then his hands came to firmly hold the back of each of your necks and forced your faces together, pressing you and the other woman to kiss. You both complied obediently, a strange mix of submissively and dominantly, like you were submitting to him but then fighting between the two of you.

Her lips moved graciously against yours, smooth and soft. It was so much more different than kissing a man. This felt delicate still despite the absolute filth that was ensuing. Her hand shot out to hold you by the jaw and pulled you in roughly, Johnny’s hand almost not needing to do anything.

He watched in amazement as the two of you obeyed his every physical command, the way you both looked so lost in each other. He knew you were straight just by interacting with you earlier but you could have had him fooled now.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in threeway with two other girls but this was definitely the hottest one. Before, it was all just to see if he could pull it off and then just to have the novelty of having girls bend to his will but this was different. You were different. He couldn't really explain it but he was completely enamored by you. An air of innocence surrounded you from the moment he set eyes on your otherworldly beauty but the saw in your eyes a fire that burned with the ability to be more than that. He was determined to see just how hot that fire burned.

He pulled you and Marie apart before bringing her to kiss him. While he did, his free hand absentmindedly groped your chest, your breasts spilling from the top of your push up bra. A twinge of jealousy went through you as you watched them kiss, although you knew how irrational it was. They were actors. You were too. There was nothing personal about this. But, for some unexplainable, unprofessional reason, there was for you.

You slinked behind the older man like a cat and ran your fingertips ever so gently across his closed shoulders and down his biceps. They trailed down his sides as his body moved from the intense makeout session with Marie before coming around to tease over his growing bulge. In his black well fitting pants.

His body tensed ever so slightly, barely noticeable except to you two, when your hand made contact with his erection. You smirked to yourself, a dark, sexy smile, the kind of smile you’d expect to see in a twisted Tim Burton film. You were finally the mysterious gothic beauty you’d always imagined yourself as in all of his stories.

With swift fingerwork and a quick, almost too skilled, flick of your wrist, you had Johnny’s belt whipped off him and held firmly in your hands. He pulled Marie off of him and shoved her roughly onto the bed, undoing the buttons of his shirt as you walked in circles around him, trailing your gaze up and down his perfect body and dragging the leather of his belt on his torso and thighs as you did so.

The way you looked at him, like a lioness about to devour her prey, made Johnny feel like he was on fire. You seemed so in control and confident and you had a way of touching him, as if you knew exactly what made him tick. It was intoxicating.

His shirt was unbuttoned in a matter of seconds and without warning, he had you pressed back against the mattress as well. He crawled over your body, rolling his hips just right against your clothed core. A small, quiet whisper of a moan escaped your lips at the sudden, well placed contact.

Your hands tangled into his hair as you pulled him down to you, forcing his head into your neck. He kissed and sucked and nipped and licked just right, like he had a map to your body. You were embarrassingly wet from just kissing and you secretly prayed that nobody noticed but you were too lost in the moment to do anything about it.

Your leg wrapped around his waist and pulled him into you again. “Fuck…” His voice was a raspy, low whisper, said just loud enough for you three to hear.

Johnny kissed down your neck and across your breasts, moving over to Marie’s chest, which he dove into with full force. She squirmed and moaned beside you as he assaulted her perfect breasts. You rolled over as far as you could and caught her lips in yours, swallowing her moans.

That was, until Johnny’s hand trailed down to rub your core. You gasped into Marie’s full lips and rolled your hips into his hand, begging for more. Suddenly, he sat back onto his heels and grabbed your hips roughly, flipping you over onto all fours like he’d done it a million times before. “Ah!” You squealed slightly at the sudden action.

He climbed off the bed and knelt just behind you, palms rubbing over your ass and admiring every inch of you. Marie adjusted to sit just in front of you, legs spread to reveal her bare vagina before you. You weren’t sure when she’d lost her underwear but low and behold here you were face to face with all she had to bear. You’d never eaten a girl out before but you’d seen enough porn and fooled around with yourself enough to know what might work as a good start.

Cautiously, you started a few kitten licks to her clit, noticing every flinch or shudder that left her lips. Just as you began to get the hang of it, there was a loud rip as you felt the fabric of your panties be literally torn from your body. You gasped loudly, looking back behind you to see Johnny with his tongue between his teeth, admiring your body.

Johnny ran his surprisingly soft hands up and down your ass before dragging his fingertips through your already dripping folds. You moaned against Marie’s clit, her hands pulling on your hair, as his fingers circled your clit. You pressed your hips back against him, begging for more, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Before you knew it, the three of you were a tangle of limbs. At all times, you were being touched by someone, whether it was groping your chest, your ass, or your pussy, but it was always a game trying to figure out who it was. The heat was becoming unbearable and you were grateful for the lack of clothing. Your body was slicked in sweat, both yours and Johnny’s mostly.

He’d taken a clear preference to you and you almost felt bad for Marie but you didn’t feel too bad, seeing as how your lifelong fantasies were coming true. When someone was touching you, it was almost always Johnny, although he didn’t let his bias completely ruin the shot. He was a professional after all.

Soon, after at least ten minutes of blind fingering and hand jobs, you found yourself straddling Johnny as he lied naked on the bed. This was it, the moment you actually had sex with Johnny Depp. He held his large erection in one hand, guiding it to your entrance and then moved his hands to grip your hips tightly, lowering you down onto this length.

“Oh my… fuck-” You hissed out, throwing your head back as you adjusted to him. You’d never felt so full before, so complete. Without even moving, he made you feel absolutely incredible.

He chuckled sexily below you, loving your reaction. This whole scene had been a game with you, fighting for who was seducing who, who was in charge, but here he was finally proving it was him.

You steadied yourself on his chest, soft hands splayed out against his surprisingly taught, tattooed skin. To look at him like this, you never would have guessed how much older he was than you. He could pass for a very handsome man in his thirties easily.

You swiveled your hips experimentally and clenched your walls around his cock. Johnny sucked in a sharp breath as his fingertips dug harshly into your skin, sure to leave little bruises in their place. You looked down and locked eye contact with him through your long eyelashes, your hair disheveled and hanging in your face sexily, as you squeezed your muscles around him yet again and moved your hips.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned out beautifully, short nails digging crescents into your skin. His grip moved to cup your ass cheeks from below, grabbing them firmly and moving you up and down until you found a pace that worked for both of you.

Marie lied on the bed beside Johnny, one leg strewn across his chest and the other behind your bouncing body, as she toyed with her clit with one hand and fingered herself with the other.

You reached down to play with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between your soft fingertips but the action was half hearted at best. All you could focus on was how Johnny felt inside you, hitting all the right spots. How you had him at your will just as much as you were at his. His hair was strewn around his face on the pillows like a damn god, his eyeliner smeared every so slightly from the sweat. His eyes screwed shut every now and then but otherwise, he looked at you like no other man had ever looked at you before.

He reached between your bodies and found your clit, rubbing it in small, tight circles. Your walls began to clench uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm nearing. Your back arched as you leaned back, moving your hands to rest on his thighs as you rose and fell on his length. Marie leaned down, attaching her lips to your perked nipples and biting one gently, licking over the skin to soothe it before doing it again.

Johnny reached down to finger her roughly as she ravaged your breasts. You continued to bounce, the new angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. “I’m gonna-” Marie whined out, her voice high and seductive.

You nodded quickly, eyes screwed shut, “Me too!” You exclaimed, trying with all your might to stave off your orgasm for as long as possible but the pleasure was just building up too much.

“Cum for me.” Johnny demanded from both of you and that was all it took for you to crash over the edge. Hot flashes stroke across your body in electric waves as your body failed to keep moving. He continued to lift your body for you, helping you ride out your high but his fingers dug tightly into your skin when your walls spasmed uncontrollably around him.

“Fuck!” Marie whined out, her legs shaking against Johnny’s body as she came.

You reluctantly rolled off Johnny’s body when you felt him lift you off and rested off to the side, breathing heavily while you recovered. He got up onto his knees next to you and stroked himself quickly, aggressively, using your slick to glide his hand across his erection, before painting Marie’s body in white ribbons.

“And cut!” The director’s voice yelled out, harshly returning you from your daydream. Your eyes suddenly snapped as wide as a deer caught in headlights as the studio lights flicked on around you and the crew was visible again. The reality of everything came crashing down on you. Shit, that wasn’t some secret fantasy in your head. That was a pornographic threesome with Johnny Depp and some woman named Marie!

You glanced over to the more experienced actress and breathed out a sigh of relief to see her looking the same way you did, completely shocked and a little disappointed at what you’d agreed to, but too pleased and amazed at what you’d just done to care too much before.

Johnny, on the other hand, looked like he was already recovering with a cool exterior. He’d already begun climbing off the bed to get his clothes back on, leaving you and Marie alone on the bed to register what had happened.

“Fuck me, that was hot.” Marilyn stepped onto the set, completely comfortable and practically ignoring the fact that he’d just watched his best friend fuck two women. You blushed a bright red. Great, you forgot that Marilyn Manson now would have the image of you fucking in his memories for forever. Not exactly the impression you typically went for in Hollywood… Or was it?

The director watched over the footage, “They looked like they were enjoying themselves a little too much.” He snorted, pointing out something on the screen to Marilyn and you just prayed that it wasn’t a funny face you made in the heat of the moment.

Marilyn waved him off, “No such thing as too much fun with sex, Paul.”

Even though the crew were all doing their various jobs, you were convinced that every eye was on you. WIth a beet red face, you slinked out of the bed, hands covering your breasts and keeping your thighs as close together as you could, trying to shield your nudity from the room. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your body, it was just the feeling of being so exposed to a room full of strangers that made the blood rush to your face.

You rushed around, trying to pick up whatever small scrap of clothing you could identify as yours. On the ground, beside the bed, was a crumpled heap of thin stringy black fabric. Your underwear! “Thank God!” You murmured to yourself, bending down to pick it up, only to have it fall in two, rendered unwearable.

Your face dropped when you saw it and sighed, starting to become more comfortable in your naked skin but more so because you had no other choice at the moment. Could you even request clothing from the crew? Where did your actual clothes end up? Why did you even think that was a ridiculous request to want your clothes back?

Just as you dropped the shredded underwear, ready to find a crew member and get your clothes back, you heard Johnny chuckle, low and sexy behind you, “You’re a great method actor,” He complimented with a wink and slight smirk, knowing damn well what he meant, the nonchalance of his entire being making you dumbfounded, “Perhaps, we could do this again under less professional circumstances.”

And with the invitation, said in the most casual way - as if inviting you for coffee, he pushed the last button through the loop of his pristine white button up, and walked to find his best friend, leaving you standing on set, naked, clutching the underwear he’d literally ripped from your body just minutes earlier, eyes on his majestic figure and trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

#johnny depp #johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp fanfic #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp smut #sweeney todd imagine #jack sparrow imagine #edward scissorhands imagine

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wonder-kid-pugh · 4 years ago

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The Bet - (Kelley O'Hara x reader) part 3

"Please tell me you didn't"

I scrunch my face and look at the forward, "Hey Chris. I'm good thanks for asking, how are you?" I guess she isn't in the laughing mood as she shakes her head at me, "This is serious Belle. Please tell me you didn't". "I didn't what?" I ask. The forward sighs exasperatedly, "Please tell me you didn't sleep with Kelley". My head snaps to her as I slam my locker shut, "What!"

She tugs on the hoodie I'm wearing, "That's Kelley's hoodie. She always wears that hoodie". I tilt my head at her before looking down at the hoodie and my eyes widen as I see she's in fact right, "Shit. I forgot to give it back to her and I was in a rush this morning that I just grabbed the nearest one". She narrows her eyes at me, "So you did sleep with her?"

"No! I did not sleep with Kelley" I whisper shout at her before calming down a bit, "Look she came over to my house and we ended up hanging out and going for ice-cream. On the way back it was raining and she gave me her hoodie. I must have forgotten to give it back to her. And like I said today I was in a rush and grabbed the closest thing to me on the way out the door".

"How does she know where you live?" Christen asks. I snort, "Guess who's my new neighbor". Her eyes widen, "No way!" I nod with a chuckle, "Way". Christen let's out a breath as she runs her and through her hair, "Look I'm sorry. But I'm really only trying to look out for you. Kelley's one of my best friends but she doesn't have the best track record when it comes to dating and I just don't want to see you get hurt".

I smile at the green eyed girl and hug her, "Thanks Chris. I'm so thankful to have you as my friend". She hugs back, "I'm glad your my friend too B". When I pull back I look at her with a smirk, "Now tell me about your date with Tobin this weekend".

Kelley's Pov

"Are you sure about this Kels?" Tobin asks as I put my books into my bag, "I mean it Kel. Your playing a dangerous game". "You talking about the bet?" I ask. She runs her hand through her hair and let's out a heavy sigh, "This is serious Kelley! This isn't just some girl anymore, this is our teammate". Tobin nods her head down the corridor where I turn and see Christen and Belle both smiling and laughing about something, "Christen is getting really close with her. She will kill you if you play her like every other girl you've ever had".

I keep my eyes on Belle watching her smile and giggle as Christen tells her something, her hands waving all over the place. Her eyes had this certain sparkle in her eyes as she listened to her which made her eyes shine. "It's just a bet Tobin" I say. I shut my locker closed, "Besides" I start, "she'll never know". I look back at her and smile as I see my hoodie she's wearing, "I'll make sure of it".

I walk towards the two but just as I reach her it seems Christen leaves to head to class, the idea of being late is unbearable for the girl. "Hey Beauty" I grin as she chuckles and nods back at me, "Hey Beast". I smirk and look her up and down, "Nice jumper...I could have sworn I've seen it somewhere before though". She blushes slightly and crosses her arms in front of her, "I didn't even realise I brought. I was in a rush this morning and grabbed the closest thing. Do you want it back?"

But I shake my head, "Nah it's fine. It looks better on you anyways..." She licks her lips with a hint of a smile but quickly shakes her head, "What's up so?" I raise an eyebrow at her, "Well I was wondering when I could bring you on our date?" But she furrows her eyesbrows at me, "Did we not go on our date?"

"Funnily enough when I got home I found money in my back pocket that magically got there" I say making her grin with a small smirk. "So because I didn't pay that means it wasn't a real date so that means I still have to take you out for our deal" I smile cheerfully.

She playfully groans throwing her head back, "So if I ask for the money back does that mean we don't have to go on a date?" I shake my head, "Nope! I already spent it so no take backs! We are going on a date". She sighs with a roll of her eyes, "I guess there's worst things...." "Admit it, you love me really" I tease but she rolls her eyes and nudges my shoulder, "Cmon we have class".

"Let's go Beauty"

But as we sit in class my head was anywhere but. All I could think about was the conversation I had with Tobin and I look at the girl beside me furiously writing notes next to me. I knew she hated the reputation attached to me. She never hid that from me she was very vocal about it. So I knew how much it would hurt her if she knew about the bet. Especially after her opening up to me about her family life at home. Something like that you don't just tell to anyone.

The thought of hurting her made me feel a pang in my heart. But I had to shake it off. Everything would be fine. It's no big deal. As long as she never finds out nothing will happen. But who was I trying to convince?

Tobin or myself?

.............

"I don't understand you" she tells me as we sit in her room doing homework and just hanging out really. It's become a daily occurance really. We share a few classes so I usually come over to her house so she can watch Peter while we do homework. Then on the weekends I was just hang out here or we would walk around or do something.

Today though we had the house to ourselves as Peter was at a friend's house and her mom was at work like usual. "What do you mean?"

She sighs and looks at me hard as if she's studying me, "You act different when it's just the two of us like this. Yet when we're at school your all cocky and arrogant and live up to your reputation. But when it's just us your revert back to your dorky goofy self which I can actually tolerate". I scoff, "I would hope you would more than tolerate me if we hang out this much".

She gives me a look, "I'm serious Kelley. Why?" I scrunch my face at her, "Why what?" She groans frustrated throwing her hands up, "Why me? Why do you act different with me? You flirt but you make sure not to cross the line. We constantly hang out but your careful to make sure to keep in line and not do anything I'm not comfortable with. And I'm not the only one who hasn't noticed that you haven't slept with anyone in months. So I'll ask again, why me?"

I bite the inside of my cheek as she stares back at me expectantly. I open my mouth trying to say anything but no words come up. I sigh as I look back at her. Not knowing what to do and in a moment of complete impulse.

I kiss her

But as I realise what I'm doing I immediately pull back and start spluttering out an apology, "Shit! Belle I'm sorry! I shouldn't have-" But I'm cut off my her lips meeting mine. I slowly kiss back. Her hands cup my face as mine trail down her back before finding purchase on her waist pulling her closer to me.

We continue to kiss until I pull back both of us breathing heavy. "Because your different" I answer as she stares back at me, "I don't have to live up to this reputation when I'm with you. When I'm with you I just get to be me and I like you for that. You got to know me without my reputation. Why would I want anyone else when your here?".

"No games?" She asks and I could hear how vulnerable she sounded as I nod, "No games". She nods and cuddles into my side hugging me, "Just....please don't leave". I hug her back and kiss her head, "I won't. I promise". We stay like that just laying with each other.

And it was then I completely forgot about the bet

...........

"So I guess you won the bet" Ash says as we walk to training with Tobin and Allie. I shake my head, "No I didn't". Allie looks at me, "So your saying..." But I nod, "We haven't slept together". Tobin narrows her eyes at me, "What are you playing at O'Hara?"

"I'm not playing at anything! I genuinely like her. I know this started out as a bet" I say but I smile as I start thinking about my girlfriend, "But at some point it stopped being about the bet. I really like her guys". Ash coos, "Awe our little squirrelly has finally grown up!" I roll my eyes at her, "Shove off". "Does she know about the bet?" Allie asks. I bite my lip and shake my head, "No. She doesn't".

"You need to tell her Kel" Tobin says. I frown, "I can't". "Why not?" She asks. I think back to what she told me about her family. If she knew about the bet she would be destroyed and she would never trust me again. I shake my head, "I just can't Tobs". Tobin sighs as we come up to the field, "Look Kels you need to tell her soon before she finds out from someone else. Imagine how much worst she'll feel if she finds out from someone that isn't you. She doesn't deserve that Kelley".

I nod, "She doesn't but if I tell her she'll be hurt anyways and she'll never want to be with me then". "Well shouldn't that be her choice?" Tobin challenges but before I could answer the team spots us. I go over to Belle and wrap my arms around her waist, "Hey Beauty". She giggles and leans back into me, "Hey Beast". "Do you want me to walk home with you and pick up Peter? We can pick up food on the way?" I ask as I rest my chin on her shoulder.

But she shakes her head, "No it's fine. One of Peter's friend's mom is dropping him here and then we'll walk home". "Cool. Still up for movie night?" I ask. "As long as your fine with Disney cause I promised Peter could choose then sure" she laughs. She turns her head to the side so I can peck her lips and I hum, "Sound great".

"How do you do that?" Mal asks. We both look at her confused before she points at us, "You have Kelley whipped. How did you do that?" The team and my girlfriend laugh as I glare at the younger forward, "Shut it before I go and tell a certain baseball player about your crush on him". Belle detaches herself from me and walks over to Mal hugging her, "Don't you dare come at my Mal Pal"

I stare at her shocked, "Your my girlfriend! Your supposed to be on my side!" She just gives me a cheeky grin, "But she's my Mal Pal". Mal grins as she hugs her back, "Yeah!" She sticks out her tongue at me as the rest if the team laugh. "But!" I try but she shakes her head and walks back over to me, "Nope!" "Belle!" I whine but she just mocks me back, "Kelley!" We hold each others stare for a minute before I sigh and cross my arms, "Fine!" She smiles and pecks my lips again quickly.

"Oh my god the power" Sonnet teases but is bonked on the head with a ball that Belle throws, "Hey!" But my girlfriend just shrugs, "Only I can tease Kelley". As Belle starts to mess around with I smile as I watch them.

"She's good for you"

I turn and see Christen coming up beside me and I nod, "Yeah". "I still haven't decided if your good for her" she says. "Chris" I sigh but she shakes her head, "I'm allowed be cautious Kel she's my best friend. I just don't want her to end up like all your other girls. I don't want her left heartbroken after you". "I really like her Chris" I whisper as I watch her and Mal team up against Sonnett and Lindsey. Christen sighs, "Just don't hurt her Kelley she's too pure for that". I smile as Mal and Belle cheer as they're able to knock the two blonde over but quickly stop and run as they start to chase after them, "I'll try". But Christen shakes her head, "You better do more than try O'Hara". But as I open my mouth to protest I'm cut off by a loud shout.

"Kelley!"

I turn to see the small seven year old running towards me, "Petey!" Once he's close enough he jumps up and I catch him before playfully spinning him around making him giggle. I can see Belle over talking a woman probably one of Peter's friend's parents who agreed to bring him here. "You training?" Peter asks me as I hitch him up on my hip. I smile and nod as I start tickling him, "Yup! Wanna play with me for a bit?" He nods rapidly as I put him back on his feet as I grab a ball and roll it towards him. We pass the ball back and forth for a little while before Belle comes over and joins us, "You being good Pete?" He nods but I grin, "No he isn't! He keeps megging me with the ball!"

Peter grins widely as Belle crouches down beside him and and high fives him, "Good boy". I hold my hand over my heart in mock hurt making them giggle even harder. As Belle picks him us the rest of the team starts to surround us. "Who's this little guy?" Christen smiles as she looks at Peter in Belle's arms. Belle smiles at the team, "Girls this is my little brother Peter. Pete these are my friends that I told you about. The ones I play soccer with". Peter flashes them a toothy smile paired with a small cute wave which makes the youngsters awes.

"He's adorable" Mal squeals making Peter's smile widen even more. "How old is he?" Rose asks and I just look at Peter who counts it out on his finger, "7!" "Wow that's big!" Ali smile as Peter nods. "Why didn't you tell us you had a brother?" Tobin asks. But Belle just shrugs, "Guess it just never came up". "How come he already knows Kelley?" Sonnett asks. But before either of us could answer Peter's face lights up, "Kelley comes over a lot. She does homework with Bells and she plays with me and gets me ice cream. She's Bells best friend!"

But as soon as he says that Christen shakes her head, "Oh hell no". She plucks the seven year old out of Belle's arms and carries him off toward the stands. "Uh Chris? What you doing?" Belle shouts after her. "There's no way in hell your brother is going to like Kelley more than me!" I scoff as the rest of them giggle before following Chris towards the stands leaving me and Belle alone.

"Did they just kidnap my little brother?" Belle asks while I nod, "Yup!" "So what were you and Chris talking about before I came over?" She asks as she tangles her fingers with mine as she interlocks both our hands together. I smile and spread our hands out wide so she comes closer to me, "Just how I'm not good enough for you". She sighs and frowns a bit, "I'm sorry Kels. I'll tell her to lay off". But I shake my head with a tiny smile, "No she's right I'm not good enough for you". Her frown deepens as she watches me but I give her a small smile back, "Your amazing and I know my previous relationships have been less than stellar. But being with you makes me want to be better. So yeah I know I'm not good enough for you".

"But one day I hope I will be"

............

I was grabbing some books from my locker when I felt arms wrap around my waist. "Well hello" I chuckle. But I'm surprised when I'm grabbed my the shoulder whipped around and pulled into a kiss. But I don't kiss back knowing that Belle isn't usually like this and it doesn't smell like her. And I'm right as I push her off of me instead of seeing my girlfriend I see Reagan.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask as I wipe my lips on my sleeve. But Reagan just smirks at me. "What's going on here?" Belle asks as she comes up behind me. I put my arm around her, "She just came out of nowhere and kissed me!" But she doesn't back down, "Cmon baby you can drop the act now". I step back away from her as Belle scrunches her face at her in disgust, "What are you even talking about?"

At this point a crowd begins to gather obviously trying to see what's happening. But I can feel my stomach drop as Reagan's smirk only grows as she crosses her arms. "Didn't your girlfriend tell you?" Belle glances at me, "Tell me what?" "That your nothing more than a bet. Do you seriously think that she actually cared about you? The only reason she's dating you is to win a bet" Reagan announces to everyone listening.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any worst, Reagan twists the knife in the worst possible way.

"Why would the biggest player in school want you. Hell not even your dad wants you"

It's a deafening silence as I don't even know what to do. I don't even know how she knew about that. But I can see Belle tense up as she clenches her fists. But just as I think she's about to launch herself at Reagan she instead pushes herself through the crowd. "Belle wait!" I follow her pushing past people. She has a head start on me but I follow her into the locker room. When I enter I see her throw a soccer ball against the lockers her back to me, "Belle?"

"Tell me she's lying" she says. She turns around and I frown as I see tears well up in her eyes. "Tell me it's not true and I'll believe you. Please tell me it's not true" she pleads. For a split second I think about lying to her but I keep my mouth shut knowing that will only make this so much worst and I guess she can tell as she glares at me, "Goddamnit Kelley answer me!" I wanted nothing more to tell her it was all a lie, that she was just sprouting nonsense and we should just forget about it. But I can't lie to her. "It's not what you think" I say barely above a whisper.

She lets out a bitter chuckle as she wipes her hands over her face, "Of course. I should have known". "Please just let me explain" I beg stepping towards her but she whips around on me, "No! You don't get to try and fix this. I don't think there's anything you could say that can fix this".

She glares at me, "Did the team know? Did Chris know?" I'm frazzled as I try to answer, "No-I mean yes but-" She doesn't let me finish as she scoffs, "Oh fucking course. Of course they fucking knew". She runs her hands frustratedly through her hair, "All of you were probably having a big old laugh behind my back right? What did you tell Christen to warn me to make it more of a challenge? Thought it would make the game more interesting? See if I was dumb enough to still go for you even after she warned me about you? How could I be so stupid?"

I shake my head, "No Beauty please it wasn't like that!" "Don't call me that!" She shouts at me. "You don't get to call me that" her voice cracks. "Belle please" I say tears starting to well up in my own eyes. She shakes her head, "I can't believe I was so stupid to actually think you could change. That I could change you. I should have known I wouldn't be enough to change you. I never am". She swipes at her face not allowing the tears to fall.

I wanted to scream at her. Yell, shout anything to tell her she was enough. That she was so much more than enough. But I don't know why but it was like I couldn't move. But honestly I don't think it would have mattered at this point. I had broken her trust.

And there was nothing I could do to make her believe a word I'd say

I just stood there not wanting to say anything that could make everything impossibly worst. She just sniffs wiping her nose on her sleeve before crossing her arms around her almost as of she's hugging herself, protecting herself. I have never seen her in a more vulnerable state. I could feel my heart crack as she looked me in the eye showing me her blood shot eyes all red and puffy, "I never want anything to do with you ever again Kelley O'Hara".

Without another word she swiftly leaves the locker room. Carefully not to even brush past me, not wanting to even touch me. I wanted desperately to run after her and tell her everything. I just wanted to run after her and hold her. Reassure her that this was all a misunderstanding and she had everything twisted. I just wanted to tell her she was so much more than enough. I wanted to tell her that I love her. But I knew I couldn't. She was heartbroken.

And it was all because of me

............

A week

It's had been a week since Reagan told the entire school about the bet. It had been a week since Belle found out. It had been a week since she pretty much broke up with me. It had been a week since I had experienced my first heartbreak. It had been a week since I had last seen Belle. It had been a week since she blocked my number after numerous attempts to call and text her.

It had been a week since she left my hoodie on my front door step

She left school immediately after what happened and hadn't returned to school since. She didn't come to class or training. Everyone on the team tried to reach her especially Christen and the youngsters but no luck. I didn't even see her at her house. I tried going to her house. But the blinds were drawn with no sign of life and when I tried to knock I would get no answer.

But whether she was there or not I don't know but either way no one was answering the door.

When Chris heard what happened she was furious. She practically launched herself at me ready to attack me for hurting her best friend and I pretty much let her but the rest of the team pulled her back off me before she could do any real damage not accounting the bruise I had my back from when she shoved me into the lockers.

Everyone could tell things were different. The team was falling apart. The dressing room was buzzing with talk or life as it usually was. The youngsters weren't joking or laughing as they use to. The team didn't play the same. We could barely string a series of passes together. There was a big massive hole missing in the midfield that was missing someone to call for passes and to slot if through for the forwards. There was no one praising the youngsters for a good practice. There was no one lift team spirits.

But just when I thought things couldn't get worst, they did.

After another dreadful practice we all dragged ourselves into the locker room only to notice something had changed. The locker across from mine was cracked open. In-between Mal and Rose's locker everything was bare. I slowly open the door only to find everything had been emptied out. The locker that was full before training had been cleaned out and stripped bare. The locker that always had extra prewrap incase her teammates needed any. The locker that always kept a speaker in case we wanted to lift team spirits and let loose before a match or a particularly hard training session was now gone. Even the sticker on the front of her locker had been ripped off but not entirely only leaving behind her number.

Actually that wasn't true. As I reach inside left folded neatly in her locker was her jersey along with her key to the dressing room and locker. Which could only mean one thing.

Belle had come and cleaned out her locker while we were training and she had no intention of coming back.

I trace my hand over her number looking down at it sadly before I hear a locker slam. I barely get to turn around when Christen pushes me back against the locker. The whole room is shocked as they have never seen Christen like this as she holds me against the locker glaring at me furiously. "Chris!" Tobin breathes out as she moves up behind her but Christen ignored her. "This is all your fault O'Hara!" She growls at me, "you promised me you wouldn't hurt her and you did it in the worst possible way". She looks at me hard as if debating what to do next but thankfully she releases her grip on me. But she still glares at me, "Just when I don't think you could get any lower, if usual Kelley fashion you prove me wrong".

She doesn't even wait to get changed as instead she snatches her bag from her locker and leaves but not before hitting my shoulder on the way out. Everyone looked at me to see what I would do. All of them probably expecting me to do something. But I can't find it in me. As instead I as well grab my bag and walk out of the locker room in defeat to start the long walk home. As I'm walking home though I pass the park that I brought Belle and Peter to for the first time. The place we would come so often so Peter could play or even for us to mess around with a ball together. I change my course to park myself at the bench where we had our first real conversation and I just sit there wishing I could turn back time to that moment.

I don't know how long I'm sitting there before someone sits beside me. I turn hoping to see her but my shoulder slump slightly as I see it's only Becky. We just sit there for a while before I sigh, "Why don't you hate me?" She just looks at me with a small smile, "Now why would you think I hate you?" I shrug stretching out my legs in front of me, "Well I wouldn't be surprised. I single handedly destroyed the team. Christen hates me, the youngsters don't know how to act around me, Chris and Ali lost it when they found out Tobin and Ash knew about the bet. I didn't only ruin my own relationship, I dragged their relationships into it as well. The team has never been so divided. So I wouldn't be surprised if you did hate me".

Becky shakes her head at me, "I don't hate you Kel". I look at her as she looks at me sympathetically, "It may have started as a bet but I could see how much you cared about her. Everyone could and I think that's why everyone was so upset. Because they genuinely thought you were done with everything and everyone else. That you were happy with Belle. And then when everything went down they didn't know which side to take". She sighs as she leans back, "I don't know if you remember but before we met Belle. When we first heard about the new student coming I told you I didn't like your lifestyle per say and I told you one day it would come back and bite you in the ass and you would regret it later".

I scoff, "Are you really going to tell me "I told you so" right now?" She snorts but shakes her head with a smile, "Maybe later but right now no". She looks at me seriously, "Look you can't change the past. But that doesn't mean you can't do anything right now. If you really care about her, show her she was so much more than a bet. Show her that you love her". I bite my lip as I look down at me shoes kicking a lonely stone on the ground, "Do you really think I could fix everything?" She shrugs as she gets up from the bench, "You don't know until you try". But she gives me a smile.

"But the Kelley O'Hara, since when do you give up on something you believe in?"

............

I stare at the door in front of me. I bite my lip as I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet as I try to talk myself into knocking on the door. I knew it shouldn't be this hard. I been here so many times that I didn't usually have to wait for someone to answer the door usually just use to walking in. I had been acting like I haven't been here for everyday for the past week waiting outside her house hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl I've fallen for. Wait to pounce at the chance to talk to her. But I knew fear was hold me back this time. This time I knew I had to make it up to her and the overlying fear that she would completely reject me wanting nothing to do with me after everything that's happened which would be understandable.

Letting out a heavy sigh I quickly knock on the door before the fear overwhelmed me entirely. I prayed that this time it would be different. That someone would open the door. That I would at least have the chance to explain. "Beaut-" I start but I catch myself and correct myself, "Belle? Can you please open the door? Can I please just explain?" As usual there was no reply. "Please just....open the door. Please take one more chance on me" I beg through the door. I wait for a second hoping for any sign of life.

But still no one opens the door

I sigh and run my hand through my hair as I turn about to walk back to my house when I hear the small click of the door opening. I whip around but tilt my head when it's not the person I expected to see, "Petey?" He waves at me happily. But he quickly stops as he sneezes into his elbow and pulls a blanket tighter around him. I frown as I see him sniffle with the tip of his nose bright red. I open my mouth to say something to him but I'm cut off by a shout, "Peter! What have I told you about opening the door to strangers?"

But she stops once she sees me. I lick my lips as I look at her for the first time in over a week. She isn't smiling like she use to. It's more like how she was when we first met. Not smiling but not frowning so I guess that's something. Peter now frowns, "But it's not a stranger. It's Kelley!" "Might as well be a stranger" she mutters harshly making me wince and Peter looks at her confused. But she quickly shrugs it off as she ignores me and kneels down in front of Peter as she fixes the blanket around him and puts her hand to his forehead, "I told you, you should be in bed". He sniffles again, "I know but I wanted cuddles and then I heard Kelley at the door".

She sighs and glance at me before picking the small boy up on her hip, "Let's get you back to bed little man". He looks at me before looking back at his sister, "Can Kelley read me a story?" She sighs as Peter lays the puppy dog eyes on thick but I quickly step in, "I-I don't mind". She barely looks at me out of the corner of her eye but sighs, "Fine". Peter cheers while I smile slightly as Belle quickly waves me into the house. Belle carries him up to his room as I follow behind them. She tucks him into the bed before she turns to me, "I'm going to go get his medicine". I barely have time to nod before she leaves. I sigh but shake it off before turning to Peter with a smile, "Okay what book are we reading?" He hands me a book from beside his bed and I start reading. As I'm reading I can see how he's not really listening, "Hey what's wrong?"

He plays with his fingers, "Is Bells okay?" I frown as he looks at me, "She's seems sad and she doesn't smile as much". He lets out a small whimper, "She was crying one day in her room. Was it because of me? Did I do something wrong?"

My heart broke as looked down at the boy how was worried about his sister. And what was worst was he somehow thought it was his fault for something I did. "No you didn't do anything Petey". His eyes drooped as he leans back into the bed, "Is she going to be okay?" I just hum and nod as I watch him start to nod off, "I hope so". Barely a minute or two later he was out like a light. I brush some hair out of his eyes before I bring the blanket up over him. Belle then walks in with the medicine but stopped when she saw Peter asleep. She leaves the medicine on the desk, "Come on let's just let him sleep".

I nod as we leave and head downstairs letting the kid sleep. She goes back down to the kitchen and I follow her not really knowing what to do. I just stand at the door awkwardly as she moves around the kitchen obviously trying to keep busy. She starts bring dirty dishes to the sink stacking them with small clinks filling the silence. I hated it to be honest. I had practiced endlessly what I was going to say to her but now my mind just went blank at the sight of her.

I mean what do you say to the girl who thinks completely destroyed your trust?

But it seems like while I was about to go into a mental downward she was the one to break the silence, "You need to stop talking to doors". Getting myself out of my thoughts I scrunch my face at her confused, "What?" She sighs and turns and leans against the counter with a hint of a smile, "People are going to start talking if they keep seeing you talking to a closed door". I let out a small breath as it feels like all the air was knocked out of my lungs. The entire time I thought she was listening she was, "You heard me?"

She scoffs, "Of course I heard you. You kept showing up outside my door and just started talking to a closed door. That's not something you can ignore". I knew I shouldn't but against my better judgement I can't stop myself before it comes out if my mouth, "Why didn't you open the door?" Any sense of a smile disappears as she narrows her eyes and crosses her arms at me, "Oh yeah cause I was definitely going to open the door to the girl who played with my heart. Why not give her another crack at fucking me over?"

"Belle" I sigh but she shakes her head, "It's hard enough trying to explain to Peter why your not around anymore? I just can't anymore Kelley". "Please just let me explain Belle" I beg with tears starting to well up in my eyes, "I know you think you know everything but you don't know the full picture. Just let me tell you everything and then if you still want me gone....I'll go".

She pursues her lips while I look at her pleadingly until she eventually relents, "Okay". I let out a huge sigh of relief and I try to step towards her but she immediately steps back making me falter again. But I push it aside and take a deep breath before I start explaining, "Look I won't deny it that it did start out as a bet". I can see her glare at me hard so I keep going, "But! That was before I got to know you. Before I even knew you were on the team or even before Peter. So yeah it started out as a bet but it became so much more. The more we hung out the happier you make me. I enjoyed being with you. The happiest part of my day would always be coming over and doing homework with you or even playing with Peter. I guess I ended up liking you more than I planned".

She scoffs but I can see the small hint of a smile making me smile before I sigh as I run my hand through my hair, "I don't know exactly when but I didn't care about the bet. All I cared was being around you. I knew you would never go for me so I thought I would be happy with just being your friend". I smile as I play with my fingers, "But then we got together and I couldn't have been happier. And for a brief while I forgot about the bet". I look straight into her eyes hoping to show her how genuine I am, "When everything settled I knew I had to tell you. I should have told you....but I got scared. I was scared that you would want nothing to do with me once you knew. I was scared to lose you..."

"Well how did that work out for you?" She bites back which makes me physically flinch. "I know I should have told you..." I start but Belle scoffs, "Yeah you should have". She lets out a frustrated sigh, "You know what's the wrong thing about all this?" I could see her crumble slightly as her shoulders slump the tiniest bit and slight tremble in her bottom lip.

"The worst part was I didn't even hear it from you"

I suck in a short breath and bite the inside of my cheek as she keeps going, "I knew I shouldn't have gone anywhere near you. Everyone knew who you were and I had been warned so many times. But I couldn't help it. That day when you brought Peter and me for ice cream and how you were more worried about us than yourself I knew there was a side of you that everyone else didn't see. I got to see the two sides of you. The you at school and the softer side of you with Peter and I. Now I don't know whether any of it was real or not..."

I immediately shake my head and step towards her taking her hands in mine, "Everything was a hundred percent real. I have never lied to you. There wasn't a minute that wasn't real between us. Every minute, every hour, every second it all was all a hundred percent true". I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles as I nudges my forehead against her own. She let out a breath which fanned against my face making me shiver slightly. I look into the bright blue eyes than I missed so much, "I lo-"

But she's quickly to cut me off shaking her head, "Don't. Please don't. I don't think I could take anymore, it's hurts too much". I slowly pick my head up spreading around her face. Peppering her face with feather light kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, her temples, her forehead before finishing on her nose which makes her smile lightly. "I love you Belle Rose. You are the only person who has ever made me feel this way. There is no one on this entire planet who could make me feel the way you do and that terrifies me. But I'm totally unapologetically in love with you".

Tears start to slowly slip down her cheeks as I gently wipe them away with the pad of my thumb. "I don't want to be hurt again" her voice cracks. "I promise I will do everything possible to make it up to you. Just please give me the chance to". She studies for me for a second before she barely inclines her head. I can't stop the smile on my face as I lean in closer to her, "Can I kiss you?" She lets out a soft laugh, "Wow eagar much Beasty".

All I can do is laugh before I lean up on my tip toes and kiss her with all I have before pulling away.

"Always for you Beauty"

#kelley o hara #kelley o hara x reader #kelley o hara imagines #kelley o hara imagine #uswnt #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines

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viking-raider · 4 years ago

Text

The Immortal Sky - Part III

Summary: Henry catches you in his bedroom in the middle of the night. Needing a date to a Royal Dinner, Henry asks you to come with him, but the night doesn’t end in the glitz and glamour it began with.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,740

Parts: I II

Warnings: PG-13 - Futuristic!AU, Dystopian, Language, Angst, Fluff, Politics, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Trust Issues, Forced Servitude, AI, Mentions of Abuse, Abuse of Power, Prophecy

A/N: Please, Tell me what you think. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her support and being my beta on this!

It was the third time in a week that Henry's nightmares and Kal's whining woke you in the middle of the night. You tiptoed down to his room, quietly opening his bedroom door, always calling out his name once or twice, in case you could wake him that way, but Henry never did wake.

So, you did what you always did.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you rubbed your palm up and down his thick arm, humming gently to him, then moved your hand to his broad and tense back, coaxing the strong muscles there to relax, before moving on to the one thing that always soothed Henry. Your fingers touched his curls, still slightly damp from the shower he took before bed. You didn't know what it was, but Henry loved having his hair played with, especially when he was asleep and agitated. You ran your fingers through them, how you learned he liked. Henry took a soft breath in and out, then relaxed for a moment, making you smile, assured he'd moved past the nightmare he was having.

But, as you moved towards the door, Henry whimpered again, and you turned back to see all your work of the last ten minutes, undone.

“Stubborn tonight.” You commented, looking down at Kal.

Shoulders slumping, you moved back to your spot on his bed and started caressing and rubbing his hair again, gently massaging the back of his neck. You thought you were about to get him to relax and calm down again, when he took a sudden sharp breath, tensed every muscle in his body and jerked upright. Pupils huge with his fright as his blue eyes scanned the room, like he would find the cause of his fear, but his frantic gaze shifted to you; your own pupils dilated from the start he gave you. He only looked at you for a moment, before his arm wrapped around your waist and hugged you against his shaking body, and buried his face into your neck.

Blinking, you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and rubbed his back. “It's okay.” You whispered into his hair, gently rubbing the back of his head. “It'll be all right.”

Both of you stayed like that for a long time, Henry holding onto you and you tenderly carding your fingers through the back of his hair, just still and quiet in the darkness of his bedroom, his grasp on you never loosening.

“Why don't you lay back down?” You suggested, your fingertips trailing down the cooling sweat along his spine.

Henry slowly let you go and laid back against his pillows, and you softly smiled at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, before standing back up. But Henry's hand caught your wrist and you looked back at him, you could see the fear lingering in the back of his cerulean eyes. Licking and biting your lip for a moment, you moved around the foot of his bed, to the open side, and laid down with him. You scooted close to him, draping your arm over his bare stomach, letting him know you were there with him, and closed your eyes.

Henry watched you for a few minutes, before finally allowing himself to relax and go back to sleep. The skin of his stomach tingled under the contact of your arm, the warm bare skin of your arm was like a balm to the fear and terror of his nightmare. He woke the next morning, still in the same position with you, but you were closer to him, the caress of your breath on his shoulder, warm and gentle. He turned his head to look at you and realized how deeply asleep you were, a smile tugged at his lips, amused for someone that still didn't completely trust him, would be so out cold in the same bed.

Gently detaching you from him, Henry sat up and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the ghost of your own hand in it still. You woke up a few minutes later to the smell of coffee, just as Henry came back into the room, holding a cup in each hand. He looked up and smiled, extending one of the cups to you.

“Thanks.” You whispered, taking the steaming hot cup from him and sat up. “And, good morning.” You added, taking a sip and discovering it was tea, just how you liked it.

“Morning.” Henry smiled and took a gulp of his coffee.

“You all right?” You asked, frowning at him, he seemed unusually chipper.

“I am.” He nodded, his bright blues holding your gaze. “What were you doing in here, last night?” He asked, finally.

“You were having a nightmare.” You replied, clearing your throat and breaking his stare.

“Yeah.” He nodded again, sitting down on his bed with you. “I tend to have them, nightly.”

“I've noticed.” You chuckled, lightly. “Last night was the third time you woke me up, because of them.” You confessed, shyly.

“I'm so sorry.” Henry blushed, gulping.

“It's all right, it's not your fault.” You assured him. “It's not like you're having them on purpose.” You pointed out.

“So, what have you been doing?”

“I do try to wake you up from them, but you never do. Until last night, that is.” You coughed, biting your lip, and feeling awkward. “So,” Your face grew hot and you hid your face around the rim of your cup. “I just sit with you, until you're okay again.”

Henry grinned at you, his scruffy cheeks coloring. “That's very sweet of you.” He complimented you. “Thank you.” He added, quietly.

“Mr. Cavill.” Lucy suddenly chimed in.

“Yes, Lucy?” Henry replied, looking away from you.

“You have an incoming call from your mother.” Lucy answered, just as the sound of Henry's mobile went off on his bedside table.

“Thank you, Lucy.” He sighed, setting his coffee down and picked his mobile up. “Hey, Mum.” He smiled, as he answered the call.

“Henry, I hope you haven't forgotten the Royal Dinner tonight.” His mother replied, right away, knowing her son well enough.

“Oh fuck.” Henry snapped, raking a hand through his hair.

“Henry.” She sighed, shaking her head at her son's language.

“Sorry, Mum.” He gulped, biting his lip. “I did forget about it, work's been crazy.”

Marianne sighed again, shaking her head at how much her son worked for the Marshals. “Well, You're still coming, we haven't seen you in almost a year, and we live in the same Sector.” She tisked at him, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “We'll have to find you a plus one, you can't come alone.” She said, running through a mental list of all the young and single ladies she knew, that could come to the Dinner with Henry, and not make the family look bad.

“Perhaps, Riley.” She said, picturing the redhead on Henry's arm. “I think she's still single, or Michelle, I just saw her mother the other day, and she made a point to say she was single..”

Henry pressed his fingertips to his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as his mother continued to run through the list, shaking his own head. He didn't want to go with any of those status and money hungry, plastic gold diggers. Then, his eye caught you, sitting up against the headboard, sipping your tea and petting Kal's head, totally oblivious.

“Mum,” He said, cutting her off. “I don't need a date.”

“Nonsense, of course you do.”

“No.” Henry chuckled. “I mean, I don't need one, because I already have one.” He told her, smiling at you.

“What?” You and his mother squeaked at the same time.

“Who is she?” Marianne asked, shocked to hear Henry had a girl already, that could so easily go with him.

“Um, she's a girl I met at work.” He replied, his mouth going slightly dry.

“She's a Marshal?”

“Uh, no.” He carded a hand through his hair, nervously. “But, she did help me on a case and we got close.” He told her, looking at you wide eyed.

“As long as she's respectable.” Marianne told him, suspicious.

“She is.” Henry nodded, smiling softly at you. “We'll see you tonight.” He said, then hung up with her.

“What are you doing, Henry?” You asked, with wide eyed shock.

“I need a date to the Royal Dinner tonight.” He answered, biting his lip.

“And you want to take me?” You gulped, feeling a nauseous pit in your stomach.

“Why not?”

“You want me to go to one of the most prestigious dinners London has, with the top officials, that run the city? Me. A low down Slummer, that is technically your slave.”

“Yes.” Henry nodded, stubbornly, he didn't care about any of that.

“You seriously think they're going to let me go with you?”

“I do.”

“Yeah, then push me in a corner with the rest of the slaves.”

“Like hell they will.” Henry snapped, angered at the idea.

“No, Henry. I can't.” You shook your head. “That's too much. I don't know the first thing about high society or Royal etiquette. I'll fuck things up and make both of us look stupid.” You argued, getting out of his bed and going into the living room.

“You won't, I swear.” Henry said, following after you. “I'll help you. We'll be in this together. I'm not any better at socializing with them than you are.”

“But, you still know what you need to do and how to look or act. I don't.”

Henry moved closer to you, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You'll be fine, I'll be right there with you, the whole time.” He said softly, lowering his head to stare directly into your eyes. “We'll be in it together.”

You felt so strange in the long, royal blue, Chiffon halter-strap dress, with matching suede, lace-up heels, that you were slightly wobbly on.

“You look so beautiful.” Henry smiled, seeing you all dressed up.

Henry himself was in a similar dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark grey tie, so the pair of you matched. You smiled and glanced away from him, shyly, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. Henry chuckled and pulled something from his pocket, a medium sized, velvet box.

“It's customary to be decked out in blues, for families of the Royal Council.” He explained, opening the box. “So, I figured these would go perfectly with your outfit.” He said, turning the open box towards you.

“Oh.” You gasped, softly, eyes huge.

There was a pair of sparkling diamond and sapphire teardrop earrings in the box, accompanied with a matching teardrop necklace. You couldn't believe how beautiful they were, and just how expensive they must have been, on top of your dress and shoes that Henry bought for you to wear to the dinner. You had tried to convince him to not spend so much money on you, but Henry wouldn't hear anything about it, he wanted you to feel as beautiful as you looked, to feel special, so he dropped tons of credits on you.

“They're gorgeous.” You whispered, touching them gently.

“Glad you think so.” Henry smiled, setting the box down and carefully removing the necklace, then stepped behind you, gently putting it around your neck and clasping it.

You slipped off your regular earrings and delicately put on the new ones, feeling the cool weight of the real stones. Henry felt his heart skip a beat seeing you in all your decked out glory, a small lump even formed in his throat, that made him clear his throat and look away to gather himself again.

“So, where is this Dinner?” You asked, as the car left the parking garage.

“Sector One.” Henry replied, fidgeting with his tie. “There's a venue that all the high end Royals have for their functions, like the dinner.” He explained, giving up on it. “The dinner will only be two hours.” He added, glancing over at you.

“I really hope I don't embarrass you.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“Oh, my family is going to embarrass me far before you do.” Henry chuckled, shaking his head at the thought and memory of the last few events he had to attend. “Don't worry about it. You'll do great.” He added in a softer tone, seeing the still unsure and worried look on your face.

Reaching over, he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, a soft and encouraging smile on his face. You squeezed his hand back and returned his smile, feeling a bit more fortified against your anxiety about going to the dinner with him.

The venue for the dinner was so elegant and lavish, it took your breath away and had your eyes the size of plates. The colors were so rich and vibrant, deep blues and glittering golds with smooth charcoal grays and rich blacks. The twinkling of expensive crystal chandeliers hung over all of the tables, at least a hundred it looked like to you.

It was a buzz with people, all of them dressed, more or less, in the same colors as the venue. Henry had explained to you the importance of the colors, because it was only higher Sectors, four and up, that could afford and had occasion to wear them, so it showed status and wealth. It had only hit you at seeing the venue and the attendees that you realized just how high fashioned you and Henry were dressed, as the son of one of the most popular and powerful Supreme Royals, Marianne Dalgliesh-Cavill.

“Henry!” A voice came from the crowd of people, before the owner of the voice finally appeared.

“Heather.” Henry smiled at his sister-in-law as she approached.

“It's so good to see you, it's been ages.” Heather grinned, throwing an arm around Henry's neck in a warm hug.

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled, hugging her back. “Work's been keeping me busy, as usual.” He told her, as they pulled apart.

“You work far too much.” She softly chided him with a gentle slap on the arm, then her eyes shifted over to you.

“Heather, this is my date.” Henry smiled brightly at you, giving his sister-in-law your name.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” Heather smiled, offering her hand to you.

“Likewise.” You replied, carefully taking her hand for a moment.

“You look amazing in your dress.” She complimented you, giving you a look over.

“Thank you.” You gulped. “As do you.” You returned the kind comment; loving her knee length, navy blue, silk dress.

“The rest of the family is at our usual table.” Heather said, looking back to Henry for a moment, before skillfully gliding through the crowd towards the table.

“Told you.” Henry whispered, leaning close to your ear and chuckling.

Henry guided you towards the large table, you noticed Heather sitting beside a young man that was the near spitting image of Henry himself. You noticed his mother next, it was hard not to notice her, even seated Marianne carried herself with deep authority, grace and importance. She was beautiful, her shoulder length blond hair carefully styled and framing her gorgeous face. She was in a flawless navy blue, off-the-shoulder dress and matching jewelry. Henry rested his hand on the small of your back as you both stopped in front of the table, both of you taking a deep breath before the entire table turned to notice you.

“Henry.” Marianne said softly, smiling as she stood, the rest of the table standing with her, out of respect.

“Mum.” Henry smiled back at her.

“Who is this young lady?” She asked, looking at you.

Henry offered her your name, glancing at you, a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am.” You said around a tight throat, hoping you didn't look as terrified as you felt.

“You as well.” Marianne replied, her eyes methodically moving over you. “Well, shall we sit?” She finally said, taking her seat again.

“Yes, let's.” Henry's father, Colin, agreed, sitting down beside her.

As everyone sat back down, Henry politely pulled your chair out and pushed it in once you sat down, before taking his own seat beside you, his hand lightly resting on your thigh, feeling the slight shake to it as he did. Henry gave you another sweet and encouraging smile, then went around the table, introducing you to the rest of his family, his little brother, the one that looked so much like him, Charlie, who was Heather's husband. His three older brothers, Piers, Nik and Simon. All of them were either part of the Cleric Council or the Royal Council. He introduced his sister-in-laws, who were either homemakers or in similar Councils as their husbands. They were all extremely polite and nice to you, easing a lot of your anxiety and worry about attending such a high end function with Henry.

Everyone chatted about family life and work related things, sweetly keeping you in the conversation so you didn't get left out, until dinner was finally served about forty minutes later. Everything was so delicious and flavorful, some of it you didn't even know the name of, let alone seen and had before. But, it was all so good.

“So, what is it that you do?” Piers's wife asked, looking at you from across the table.

You felt your throat go dry and Henry's hand grasp your thigh under the table, neither of you had fielded this question on the way to the event.

“She's not currently working.” Henry said, as you picked up your champagne glass.

“Then, how was it that she helped you in your last case?” Colin asked, before taking a bite of his food.

“I was conducting interviews for the case and she was one of the people I interviewed.” Henry said, his face somehow gave away none of the tension you could feel in his hand. “She had the information I needed.”

“You must have returned to interview her, if the pair of you hit it off so well, that you'd ask her to attend tonight with you.” Simon said, eyeing his little brother.

A smile started to break the control Henry had over his expression, before he managed to pull it back in. “Well, she is the witness for the case, so we got close.” His hand relaxed slightly.

“What was the case about?” Marianne asked, lifting a brow at her son.

“I'm still investigating it.” Henry replied, swallowing a gulp of wine. “So, you know I can't completely speak on the matter.”

Marianne stared at Henry for a moment, before her brow slowly lowered and she dropped the subject. “What Sector are you from?” She asked you.

“She's-”

“I asked her, Henry.” She gently scolded him.

The tension returned into Henry's hand, tenfold. You wouldn't be surprised to see bruises in its wake later.

“Lower than Sector Three.” You replied, trying your best to keep your face under control, gripping Henry's wrist, like it would help. “My family is of no prominence, but they make do with what they have.”

Marianne regarded you for a tense moment, before nodding her head. “It was nice of my son to invite you.”

“It was.” You agreed, nodding your head at her. “I'm quite honored for the distinction he's given me.”

The grip Henry had on your thigh changed slightly, it wasn't full of worried tension, but a grip of pride in your words and actions, standing up on your own against his mother's interrogation of you. After a short silence, the table returned to its normal conversation, seemingly appeased with the information gathered on you, however exaggerated it was. When you leaned in close to Henry and informed him you really had to use the restroom, he excused both of you and showed you to where they were situated.

“I'm quite impressed by how you stood up to my mum.” He commented as you both took your time returning to the table. “Not many people outside our family do.”

“With a good mind, I'm sure.” You chuckled, softly. “I hope, I didn't cross a line.”

“Oh, trust me.” Henry laughed. “If you had, she would let you have it.” He assured you, amused. “But, no. I think she likes you.”

“Really?” You replied, shocked to hear it.

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking across the room at his mother. “If she didn't, she wouldn't have let up on grilling you and just the way she is.”

“Well, that's nice to know.” You chuckled, nervously.

“You know what.” Henry said suddenly, grabbing your elbow to pull you to a stop. “Come dance with me.” He said, motioning to the modestly filled dance floor, several couples dancing to the soft song playing.

“No.” You shook your head, shyly. “I don't know how to dance.”

“That's fine.” He chuckled, slowly reeling you over to the floor. “I'll show you.”

“Henry.” You giggled, grinning and face warm.

Henry grinned back at you, finally getting you on the dance floor, and gently pulled you against him, positioning both of your and his arms properly, his arm around your waist and hand resting delicately on your lower back as you both started to gently sway to the song.

“See.” He smiled against your ear. “It's not so hard.” He teased you.

You and Henry enjoyed the rest of the night, but by the time the function was over, your feet and toes were screaming inside your heels. So, Henry had you wait at the entrance of the venue, slipping his suit jacket off and putting it over your shoulders, while he went down to the parking garage for the car, so you didn't hurt your feet anymore than they were already.

“Issy?” A soft voice whispered behind you.

Blinking, you carefully turned on your sore feet and saw the owner of the voice, a young boy in dirty, mismatched and over sized clothing, his dirty blonde hair cropped, stood meekly behind you, blinking back at you.

“Dax?” You whispered back, shocked to see him there.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” He asked, then looked you over. “Why are you wearing that?”

“I'm attending the event with someone.” You replied, becoming incredibly self-aware again. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm here with my Master.” Dax answered, looking around as if he expected them to suddenly appear. “My father sold me off to him two weeks ago.”

“I'm so sorry.” You frowned at him, empathetic. “Have you heard,” You glanced around to make sure Henry wasn't near. “Have you heard anything about Mikey?”

Dax tiptoed closer to you. “I heard he returned home not long ago. When he found out you had gone to look for him, he flipped out. But, no one knew where you went, they all looked for a long time. Still are, I'm sure.” He told you in a low voice. “Last I heard, he was going to--”

“Boy!” A voice roared and Dax flinched, like he had been struck. “What are you doing, bothering this young lady.” A portly man demanded of Dax, sallying up to you both and striking Dax on the back of the head. “My apologies, Miss.” He said, turning his red and blotchy face to you, and nodding his head politely.

“I am still trying to train this filthy miscreant.”

You floundered for a moment, unsure how to react. The man clearly thought you were one of the Uppers and treated you as such; but you were dumbfounded. “I-”

“Is there a problem here?” Henry's voice said behind you and you felt your stomach give out with relief.

“No.” You squeaked, turning towards him. “It was just a misunderstanding.” You told him, looking back to the portly man.

“Oh, High Marshal Cavill.” The portly man said, gulping at Henry, his fat neck jiggling with the motion.

“Beta Cleric Hunt.” Henry nodded his head to the man and resting his hand on your back, protectively.

“My apologies, if this stupid boy has bothered your lady.” Hunt said, all but tripping over himself to make Henry happy.

“Well, if she said it was a misunderstanding, then it was one.” Henry replied, looking at the boy, with a faint look of distaste. “Good night, Mr. Hunt.” He said, turning both of you away from them and back towards the car, parked at the curb.

You could hear Hunt berating Dax and hitting him several more times as you got into the car with Henry and drove away, your eyes burning as you did.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked after a few minutes. “He didn't hurt you, did he?” He looked you over, to make sure.

“No.” You replied, your voice weak.

“What's wrong?” He asked, seeing the tears threatening in your eyes, and became increasingly concerned for you. “What did he do? Did he say something?”

“No.” You shook your head, warm tears flowing free. “He--” Your throat closed around the word.

“He what?” Henry gently pressed, turning towards you and taking his handkerchief from his pocket, and gently dabbed at your wet cheeks. “Tell me?” He begged you, a knot twisting up his stomach seeing you so upset.

“Please.”

“He's..” You licked your lips and sniffled. “He's my...cousin.”

Henry's broad shoulders slowly melted as your words hit him. “I'm so sorry.” He whispered, crushed. “I had no idea, please forgive me.” He pleaded, feeling shameful with how he reacted to Dax and felt guilty for not ensuring that Hunt didn't do the boy any more harm for what was clearly and honestly a misunderstanding.

“He just wanted to know what I was doing there, since none of them knew what happened to me.” You hiccuped, biting into your lip as you tried to get yourself under control again.

“How does he know you were gone?” Henry frowned, shaking his head and thumbing away a tear about to drip from your jaw.

“He's only been his slave for two weeks.” You told him, sniffling.

Henry pressed his lips together and nodded, you had been gone for months, even before he had gotten to you in the raid. He dearly wished he could allow you to go home, even if it was just to let your family know you were safe and sound, but it was too dangerous, for both you and them, to risk. He had considered, on many occasions, on sending them an anonymous note on your welfare, but knew it would probably be traced back to him, no matter how careful he was. The whole situation was one mixed bag of risk, danger and complication, he tried his best to protect you, but knew in doing that, he was cutting you off from the very things you craved and needed the most in such a scary time, your family.

“Here.” He said softly, as the two of you approached the lift up to his flat.

Henry carefully picked you up in his arms, relieving you of the sore and painful throb of your feet and ankles, that was steadily making it impossible for you to stand, let alone walk. He held you in his arms on the lift ride up to his floor, down the hall and into the flat, then into your room. Carefully setting you down on your bed, Henry gently picked up one of your feet, resting it on his thigh as he delicately unwrapped the soft fabric from around your ankle and slipped the heel off; doing the same with the other one.

“Thank you.” You whispered, flexing your swollen toes.

“You're welcome.” He replied quietly, then left your room.

Sighing, you stood with a soft groan and slipped out of the dress, draping it over the foot of your bed before going into your closet and removing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear. You went out into the kitchen, finding Henry there as the coffee maker filled his cup and made yourself some tea, before sitting down on the couch.

“Thank you for going with me.” Henry said, sitting beside you, as you flipped through the channels.

“Of course.” You nodded, not looking at him.

He sighed softly, setting his cup on the table and carefully turned you towards him. You thought he wanted to talk about what happened after the event, and just as you opened your mouth to tell him you really didn't want to, he gently put your swollen feet into his lap, and started to methodically massaged them. Your foot almost vanished in his big hands, his fingers working the top of your foot, while his thumbs moved in firm circles up and down the bottom of your foot, paying extra attention to your arch and toes. You moaned at the luxurious feel of his strong fingers combined with the heat of his hands engulfing your feet, that your eyes fluttered shut, tv forgotten.

Home had never looked so beautiful to you, as you approached the worn building that housed your family's flat. It had been a year since you had gone looking for your brother and gotten kidnapped by Traffickers, then sold to Henry as a Slave, though Henry never treated you like one, he had treated you with the utmost care and consideration.

But now, it was time for you to finally return home.

You entered the flat, feeling giddy and excited to see your parents and brothers again. “Mum? Papa!” You called out, closing the door behind you. “Christophe? Michail?”

“Issy!?” Mikey's voice yelled out from down the hall.

Mickey came running into the living room, his eyes big and mouth hanging open. “Oh god, you're home!” He said, shocked and rushing you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up off your feet. “Thank god, you're all right!” He cried into your shoulder.

“And home.” You cried back, clinging onto him and hugging him tight.

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked, setting you down and holding you at arm's length.

“It's complicated and I don't want to talk about it.” You told him, cupping his face in your hands.

“We were so afraid that you were dead or had been kidnapped.” He told you, looking you over.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” You told him, shaking your head and so glad to see him again. “Where did you go that day?”

“I was staying with a friend.” Mikey told you, pulling you down onto the couch with him. “I'm leaving soon.”

“What?” You snapped, surprised. “Why? Where?”

“My boss's given me a better position, so I'm going to Bristol to be trained, before I can come back here.”

“Trained? Trained in what?” You frowned at him.

“He's making me an Adjutant Runner.” Mikey grinned, with such pride.

You felt your heart fall into your stomach at the news. An Adjutant Runner was easily one of the most dangerous positions as a Runner for a Crime Boss. They were higher in the hierarchy of the business, second to the Kingpin, that made and supplied the drugs, and third to the very top of the chain, the Crime Boss, that ran it all and reaped the biggest benefit, and generally worked untouched by the dirty and risky parts of the business. Crime Bosses were rarely arrested and successfully tied to the rest of the chain or the crimes, everyone below him took the wrap and consequences of the world they inhabited, even if it was openly known that he was the main man.

Countless Adjutant Runners either came up dead or ended up banished, and once someone was caught and outed, the Crime Bosses of Bristol never took them back into their employment, feeling they would be a weak point in their operations and their profit. So, the Adjutant Runners lucky enough to live and suffered banishment had very little resources to survive, no longer welcomed in London and no longer trusted in Bristol. That in itself was a death sentence.

“Michail, no.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him, crushed. “You can't do this, it's far too dangerous.”

Mikey huffed and rolling his eyes at you. “You sound like mum and dad.” He sighed, getting up from the couch, to pace. “I know the risks of being a Runner, especially for Jaxon Quinn. But, the money I can make being an Adjutant Runner for him and bring back home for you, our parents and Chris, can help us so much.”

“And when people start questioning where the money is coming from?” You argued, watching him pace. “Mum and Dad don't make enough money for us all to get by on to start with, that's with you and I working, and when suddenly that burden is lifted, but the jobs are still the same. What then?”

“We'll just have to stagger it.” He argued back.

You pressed your hands to your face, at your wit's end with him. “You sound like a lunatic!” You barked, throwing your arms out.

“None of you fucking understand how this could work out in our favor!” He roared back, facing you. “The things this could do for us!”

“And the things it can do to us, Mikey!” You screamed, jumping to your feet. “Mum and dad could lose their jobs, the flat and or get banished. Christophe will be homeless and parent-less! He'll end up like that pack of street kids that rob people or work to lure them into the dens of traffickers! If they don't banish him with our parents.” You panted, out of breath and so angry with him.

“You don't seem so worried about yourself!” He hissed, coldly.

That cut you. But, he was right. Henry had told you as he dropped off at the gate to your home Sector, that if anything happened and you needed a safe place, to come find him and he'd take care of you again. But, that was beside the point, you weren't going to let your idiot twin destroy your parents and little brother's lives, simply because he was unhappy with the amount of money he made as a dishwasher.

“I have a job, and I can apply for a place of my own.” You growled at him, gritting your teeth.

“And be ninety percent in debt for the rest of your life, or barely making ends meet.” Mikey taunted you, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he surveyed you.

“It's better than being dead or banished the rest of my life.” You cut him back.

“So, you won't come with me?” He asked, suddenly calm, despite the storm of his anger still below his surface.

“Fuck no!” You barked, shaking your head and looking at him, like he was crazy.

Which he was.

“Fine then.” He huffed, stomping down to his room and grabbing the bag he packed. “I'll do it for us, alone.”

“Mikey.” You sighed, trying to reel him back in.

He stopped, holding open the flat door and stared at you, before shaking his head at you and going out, the door closing with a soft click after him. You dropped heavily onto the couch and pressed your hands to your face, your shoulders hunched against as you shook.

“Honey?”

You looked up as the door opened again and the exhausted look of your mother came into view of your teary eyes. She looked more or less the same as she did the last time you saw her, but she had several more wrinkles on her beautiful face and her eyes looked a little more sunken.

“Mama.” You whimpered at her, rushing to her and wrapping your shaking arms around her, sobbing into her neck.

“Oh baby.” She sobbed back, clutching at you.

You explained as much as you dared to your mother about where you had been for the last year, ensuring to comfort her about your safety and well-being. But, a mother being a mother, Tasha knew there was something you were hiding and knew some of that secret was quite dark. But, she didn't press you on it, not wanting to darken the reunion with whatever it was.

A month after your return home, there was a knock at the door of your family home. But, when your father opened the door, no one was there, just a note on the worn door rug. Frowning at it, Tristan bent with a groan and picked the note up, before turning back inside.

“Who was it, love?” Tasha called out from the kitchen.

“A note.” He called back, tapping the screen.

“A note.” She echoed back and came into the living room, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “From who?”

“I don't know.” Tristan answered and activated the note.

You and Chris came into the living room as the electronic pad beeped and an unfamiliar and distorted voice started to speak. “I am sorry to inform you that your son, Mikey Keagan, has been found dead in Sector Fifteen of Bristol...”

You sat up with a strangled gasp of tears stuck in your throat and frantically looked about the room, not recognizing it, until something cold touched your arm and you looked into the black and furry face of Kal as he laid in bed with you.

“Henry.” You panted, taking deep breaths in and out, realizing it was all a nightmare and you were still in Sector Two with Henry.

Rubbing at your face, you dropped back against your pillow and stared up at the dark gray ceiling. You couldn't shake the fear coursing through your body from the nightmare. It had felt so real that being awake now felt like the dream.

“He's in trouble, Kal.” You whispered to the Akita, then got out of bed.

Tiptoeing down the hall, you made sure Henry was still asleep, and found him crashed out on his stomach and snoring lightly, then rushed into the kitchen. You didn't dare use Lucy's voice activation in case it woke Henry, so you used the screen in the kitchen to get what you wanted from her. Using Henry's life pin, you were able to actually get into Marshal records and found there was, thankfully, no notice on Mikey's death. Relieved in that event, you set about your next plan of action, ordering a backpack to put a change of clothes and any other supplies you might need and a mobile, so you could navigate out of London and make your trek to Bristol, hopefully in time to find and stop something from happening to him.

You flinched and froze at the soft ding of the delivery pod announcing the arrival of your things, expecting Henry to come out and ask you what you were doing ordering something at one in morning. But, he stayed asleep. You took the mobile and backpack out of the pod and went back into your room, shoving some clothes into it, got dressed yourself, then filled a water bottle and took a couple of snacks out of the cabinets, packing them as well.

“Ssshhh, Kal.” You shushed the Bear as you slowly opened the door and he whined. “I have to do this.” You told him, slipping out into the hall and quietly closed the door behind you.

Finding your way out of Henry's building by way of the stairs and out onto the street, you plugged in the headphones that came with your new mobile and turned it on, pressed your finger to the print scanner, watching the device light up and sign you into your mobile account.

“Eric?” You whispered, holding your breath as you waited for his long missed voice.

“Ms. Keagan, welcome back.” Eric's voice replied.

You laughed, and nearly cried, at the sound of his voice. “Thanks, Eric.” You smiled. “I need you to bring up a map of back ways that will take me from Sector Two back to Sector Twenty-Eight.”

“Of course, Ms.” Eric answered.

A moment later, you had the extensive layout on how to get back home from where you were and set out for the first checkpoint, not wanting to waste any more time and knew that you had to get to your Sector as quickly as you could and out of the city, or almost out, by the time Henry woke up in a few short hours.

When Henry did finally wake up, just after nine, he found Kal sitting by his side of the bed and staring at him. “Hey, bud.” He said in a sleepy deep voice, patting the Bear on the head.

He got out of bed with a stretch and a yawn, then padded down the hall, scratching his tone belly as his stomach growled for breakfast. But, he made for a pit stop at the bathroom, only to pause and turn back. Your bedroom door was wide open and your bed was empty. Frowning, he called out your name as he stepped into the living room and found that empty as well. So was the bathroom and the kitchen, but the control screen on the kitchen wall caught Henry's attention, still showing the orders you made and the file you pulled up under his Marshal account on your brother.

“Fuck.” He snapped with a huff, raking a shaky hand through his disheveled curls.

Henry paced the kitchen, saying he was upset with you was an understatement, but he was also a bit impressed. Putting all that aside, Henry knew there was something up with your brother, he knew it the moment he met you. If you had just wanted to go home after what happened with your cousin at the Royal Dinner the night before, you would have just gotten the backpack and mobile and left, you knew how to get home. But no, you had specifically used his life pin to get into documents only he or any other Marshal could access to look your twin up.

For what? He wondered. What was it that you suddenly needed to know about him, that would then cause you to pack a bag and run, in the middle of the night, after almost two months with him. It must have been something illegal, if you didn't wake him to ask him for help, or at least try and convince him to take you back home, because you feared something was wrong.

“But, she has to be afraid of something.” He said out loud. “But, what?” He sighed, staring at the screen. “What are you afraid of? And, what is your twin up too?” He asked, a crease deepening between his brow.

He looked at Kal. “I'm going to have to find her.” He told the Bear. “She's not safe out there with Traffickers and Bosses looking for her.” He said, resolved to go after you.

Getting showered, dressed and making a liquid breakfast out of a cup of coffee, Henry set out to go to the first place he knew, for a fact, you would be going too. Home. It would be the prime location for you to go to try and find your brother and any leads of where he might have gone, if he wasn't there. It only took Henry an hour to get to your home Sector and about twenty minutes to find your building, then mount the stairs to your family's flat.

“Yes?” A woman frowned, answering his knock.

If it wasn't for the wisps of gray hair and soft wrinkles, Henry would have sworn it was you answering the door. It took him a moment to gather his composure again. “Hi, I'm High Marshal Cavill.” He cleared his throat and showed her the badge clipped to his belt as identification. “I'm looking for one of your children.”

“Mikey isn't here.” She told him.

“I'm not, exactly, looking for your son, ma'am.” Henry informed her with a frown. “I'm looking for your daughter.”

The woman's face changed, considerably. “She's not here either.” She said softly. “We haven't seen her in almost a year.”

Henry bit the inside corner of his lip, warring with the knowledge that this mother hadn't seen her beloved daughter in almost a year, and he had seen her only the night before.

“Do you know anything about her disappearance?” She asked, hopeful.

His mouth worked for a moment. “I've been put on the case, into it. Do you know where I could find her brother, Mikey?” He asked, wanting to know what the secret surrounding the boy was all about. “I understand they're twins.”

“Yes, yes they are.” She nodded, licking her lips nervously. “I haven't seen my son Michail in just over a month.”

“Do you know why that is?”

“My husband and I believe he became disheartened with his sister's absence and got himself into Sub-Blue down in the lower Sectors.” She explained to him, looking deeply troubled and worried.

Henry nodded his head, pressing his lips together, she didn't know anything, that much was obvious to him. Licking his lips and letting out a sigh, Henry gave her his number and asked her to call him, should she see either of her children again, then returned to his car. He drummed his fingers against his thighs as he stared out the windshield, the pattering of filthy rain fell against the angled glass and matte-black paint of the car's body.

“Where are you?” He mumbled, watching and searching each face that went by, hoping to see yours.

He wasn't sure what he would do, once he did find you again. Mostly, he just wanted to know what was going on with you, what it was about your brother that had you so worried and afraid. Henry squinted his eyes through the wet on his windshield, he watched a little boy dash across the street and into the building, knowing you had a little brother as well, but shook his head; the boy was too young to be your brother, Christophe. Grunting, Henry started the car, deciding to go to your place of work, maybe some of the people you worked with had answers.

“Where's your Supervisor?” Henry asked, flashing his badge at the first worker he saw upon entering the Sector Twenty-Eight Supermarket.

The bored and exhausted looking man at the cashier pointed to a door at the very back of the store and Henry made his way to the back, stepping into the dim and cool stock room that fed the rest of the market.

“You can't-”

“High Marshal.” Henry snapped, cutting the clearly under worked Supervisor off.

“Oh.” the Supervisor squeaked, gulping at Henry. “How-how can I help?” He mumbled, chewing on his lip, nervously.

“I want information on one of your workers.” Henry told him, giving the Supervisor your name.

“Her? She hasn't come into work for months.” He explained to Henry, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm surprised the Council of Daily Operations hasn't sent her a failure notice.”

“They know where she's been.” Henry remarked, he had listed her address on her life pin application as his place.

“If they know where she is, then why are you here?”

Growling deep in his chest, Henry grabbed the front of the Supervisor's uniform and slammed him into a set of stocking shelves. “Because, she's part of an important investigation and in deep fucking trouble. Do you know where she and her brother would hang out or any activity they might be in?”

“Her, no. That girl is a straight shooter. She would be the last person I'd expect to get into any kind of trouble.” The Supervisor remarked, surprised. “But, Mike.” He snorted, shaking his head. “If you ever saw that boy, you'd know he's nothing, but trouble. He used to steal off the very shelves his twin sister worked so hard to stock.”

“Hm.” Henry growled, pressing his lips together, and let the Supervisor go.

Returning to his car, Henry brought up the AI screen in front of his windshield. “Lucy, look up Mikey Keagan.” He ordered, scowling at the slightly transparent screen.

“Michail Charles Keagan. Age, twenty-three. Birthday, 4th December, 2844. Place and Time of Birth, Unknown. Height, 183cm. Weight, 86 kilograms. Place of Occupation, Daily O's Soup Kitchen, Dishwasher.”

Lucy's voice listed out as the report appeared on the screen. Henry scrubbed his palms over his face and swiped through all the documents the Councils had on Michail.

“There's basically nothing on this kid.” Henry sighed, shaking his head at the meager information. “Nothing, but some stupid offenses.” He slumped in his seat, at his wit's end already, then sighed, he couldn't give up yet. “Let's go to his place of work, perhaps his employers and equals have something to say.” He said, ordering Lucy to take the car that way.

Your feet were screaming by the time you reached the street your family lived on. You stopped and adjusted your shoes to loosen the strap to accommodate your swollen feet, with a sigh of relief. You were about to step out into the street, when you saw Henry striding along the sidewalk across from you.

“Shit.” You gasped, quickly dashing into a nearby alleyway, your heart pounding as you spied him going into your family's building.

You hadn't expected him to show up so soon, but there he was. No doubt going to your family's flat in search of you. You were glad that you hadn't gone up yet, even if you were gone again by the time Henry showed up. Henry was a good High Marshal, you had seen that in the several cases you'd witnessed him working at in the long hours at his flat, while you stayed with him. He would have been able to get the truth out of your family about seeing you and whatever other information they could give him, then been able to stop you in going to Bristol, to find your brother and stop him.

A few minutes later, you watched Henry leave.

“Hey.” You called out to a street boy.

“Yeah, what?” The boy snapped back, looking at you dubiously.

“You know my brother, Christophe, don't you?”

“I might.” He replied, folding his thin arms.

“I need you to go up to our flat and see if he, or any of my family, is there.”

“What do I get out of it?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

You narrowed your eyes back at him. “You know Jinyu's?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll take you down there, and get you something to eat.” You told the boy, seeing how thin he was, it had no doubt been some time since he had a decent hot meal.

He weighed the option, then took off across the street and into your building, coming back a moment later. “Christophe isn't home, only your mum is.” He told you.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, playfully ruffling his dirty hair. “Now, let's go. I have things to do.” You told him, turning down the alleyway, and taking the back way to Jinyu's, in case Henry spotted you on the streets.

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years ago

Text

A Moment

A/N: As I perused my Masterlist, I realized I had never done a virginity-loss story. Because I’m still in my soft-bitch-feels, here’s a continuation of “Say You Don’t Care” with Ahkmenrah. And it is achingly sweet.

Warning: Full smut ahead, so begone under 18s.

A month passed after your admission of virginity to Ahkmenrah, but for the first time, nothing changed.

He didn’t distance himself.

He didn’t start acting like you were made of glass.

He didn’t stop flirting with you or teasing you.

And he didn’t stop touching you or kissing you.

In fact, you were currently straddling him on the couch in the breakroom, your mouth hot against his as his hands rested on your thighs, his fingers sporadically clenching with an itch he didn’t hide from you as your hand palmed his hardness over his shendyt.

Detaching your lips with a slight gasp, you breathed, “Ahk?”

“Yes, my sweet?” he answered, his freed lips moving away from your mouth and travelling along your jaw.

“Touch me. I—I need you to touch me.”

Ahk’s gravelly groan sent a shiver of lust down your spine.

“Where? Tell me where,” he purred as his hands came to rest on your hips, his fingers flexing into the flesh of your bum while his thumbs pressed into the indentures near your hipbones.

“My—my . . .”

Ahkmenrah’s right hand slid over to your juncture, his thumb now pressing enticingly above your legging-covered clit.

“Yooour?” he teased.

In frustration, you squeezed where your hand had been rubbing and he hissed, his own hand returning to your hip as he looked up at you.

“Seems we are at an impasse,” he chided as he bit his lower lip and looked up at you, his eyes fighting a losing battle to conceal their mirth.

You removed your hand from his shendyt then settled both on his shoulders, the beads of his wesekh cool under your palms as you looked into his polychromatic eyes, more green than blue today, and took a deep breath.

“I want you to make me come.”

“Make you come, hmm?” Ahk teased as he gently pushed you off his lap, reaching up to stretch as if he were disinterested while you stood, hands popping onto your hips as you blew out a breath of exasperation.

With a slight quirk of his lips, Ahkmenrah slowly reached for the strings that bound his wesekh and after untying them, he laid the jumble of beads on the floor by the couch. Next, he stretched out, nestling into the cushions as he patted the spot in front of him for you to lie down. Once you did, Ahk settled his leg between yours, his hardness still evident and pressing into your hip; he cupped your face and turned you toward him, kissing you sweetly, then with hunger before he released your face and slid his hand down your body, dipping beneath the waistband of your leggings.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, letting his fingers work. He loved to touch you, to work you up and whisper in your ear to let go, so it didn’t surprise you at all that Ahkmenrah was taking his time, sliding between your lips and dipping shallowly into your heat, teasing you with his intent.

A moan escaped as you grasped his wrist when he brought his fingers to your clit.

“So pretty like this my love,” Ahk spoke in your ear, his breath warm as its puff disturbed the strands of hair nearby.

“I wish you could see what I do to you.”

His name tumbled off your tongue in response and you opened your eyes to focus on the way he was looking at you as his middle finger circled your clit, the pressure increasing as your body closed in on its release.

“Come for me, my sweet girl. Come,” he spoke, his voice straddling the line between a command and a plea, which never failed to send you over the edge.

Unable to hold your eyes open, your neck arched and your head pushed into the sofa’s armrest as you soaked Ahkmenrah’s fingers. Breathy pants fell from your lips as your thighs clenched and held his hand prisoner.

Eyes still shut, basking in the bliss of a good climax, you suddenly realized that your body still ached for something—it ached for him.

When your eyes popped open with this hard awareness, you shifted into Ahk’s body and began kissing any part of him your lips could reach, uttering, “I need more, Ahkmenrah. I’m ready for more.”

��My sweet,” he answered as he began to detangle himself, his mouth softly smiling. “It is easy to get carried aw—”

“No,” you cut him off, grasping his face and looking him square in the eye. “I mean it.”

Ahkmenrah’s lips parted as he furrowed his brow and searched your face. The understanding that eventually settled in his expression without either of you needing to speak another word, let you know you were right—it had been worth waiting for someone who knew you so well.

“Not . . . here,” he spoke with resolve as he struggled to sit up on the couch.

Once he clambered up, he reached for your hand. Ahk quickly led you to one of the newest exhibits on the topmost floor—a home-series that was done to showcase a variety of eco-friendly interior designs, and two of the displays were bedrooms.

“Is this suitable?” he asked, choosing the brighter of the two rooms, the bedding done in crisp whites and shades of purple.

You sat on the bed and bounced, making sure it was actually something plush and not a piece of plywood.

“It’s comfy enough,” you answered, excitement fluttering inside your stomach.

“I have been making use of this serene location to study,” Ahk said as he pulled out a drawer and held up a set of flashcards. “I find the scents here most appealing. It is not . . . not a fake odor, like all of your modern things.”

“Plastic—plastic is the smell you don’t like.”

“Unnatural,” he said, shaking his head.

“Is--is there a way to ensure we won’t be interrupted?” you stammered, now wondering if those butterflies weren’t just a bit of nerves, too.

Ahkmenrah’s lips pursed as he thought, then he smiled as he barked a short order in ancient Egyptian. His eyes watched and waited, trained on the doors that led to this exhibit until you both felt the floor tremble as his guards settled, their intimidating outlines only just visible through the frosted glass.

“Now then. We shan’t be disturbed.

“But I have to ask, just once more,” Ahkmenrah stated as he sat down on the bed next to you, reaching out to turn your face to his. “Are you certain?”

“More than—I mean, I’ll have to edit some of the details, but who will ever have a better ‘first time’ story than me?”

Ahk laughed and pressed his forehead to yours.

“If you want to stop, at any time, please say so.”

“I won’t want to.”

“Humor me?”

“Yes, Ahkmenrah, my loving, doting prince. I promise I’ll say stop if I want to stop.”

“Thank you.”

You kissed him softly, but soon found yourself straddling his lap once again, the kiss turning eager as your mind was consumed with the thought of your beautiful Egyptian undressed and poised to satiate your ache.

Reaching for the hem of your shirt, you broke the kiss to pull it off and toss it on the floor. You began to push at his cape, tugging at the sleeves before frowning.

Ahk chuckled and gave your bottom a squeeze.

“Allow me,” he said, moving to stand as you slid off his lap.

“Please do,” you gestured with a wave of your hand.

Ahkmenrah took a few steps forward, his back to you as he worked out of his cape and let it fall to the floor. You sucked in a breath as you watched the muscles in his back flex, realizing that this was a sight you could drink in for a lifetime.

He stepped out of his sandals, and you watched as his hands came to rest on his heavy belt. He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder, “Would you like me to turn around?”

“Yes. I mean no. No. Or . . . I don’t know, “you stammered, and he laughed.

As he straightened his shoulders, you watched the backs of his arms as his hands crossed in front of his hips and in a flash, his shendyt whispered to the floor.

You swallowed hard as your eyes raked over his backside, and your heart may have actually skipped a beat as you took in all of his honey-colored skin.

“Ready?” he asked, clearly able to feel your absorption in his form.

“Turn around.”

Ahkmenrah spun around and just stood there, hands at his sides, cock hard, a smirk on his face, looking like a deity come to life.

“I sometimes find it hard to believe you aren’t made out of wax,” you said as your eyes trailed over every inch of his body. You had probably seen almost every inch of him—just not all at once.

“Some people believe a perfect form is a myth. Clearly, the gods stopped creating man in their image when those Macedonian wretches—”

“Easy, killer. Keep your focus.”

“Yes. Too dark right now,” Ahkmenrah agreed, moving swiftly to stretch out on the bed. “Your turn!”

With a deep breath, you stood and removed your shoes and socks, then added your leggings to Ahk’s pile of clothes, working them off in a way that was nowhere near as sexy as watching his shendyt drop like an expensive dress.

Clad only in your bra and panties, you chanced a glance at his face and felt emboldened by the unadulterated lust that emanated from his gaze. Not to mention the very light grip he had on his cock as he watched you, his thumb running back and forth over his tip.

You unhooked your bra and let it fall to the floor, your nipples drawing into peaks thanks to the constant stream of air conditioning that seemed to run, winter or summer, throughout the museum.

“You are so beautiful,” Ahk stated, his voice just as confident as it had been when he was discussing his own appearance.

With another glance and a shy smile, you slid your panties down your legs and stepped out of them, moving closer to the bed.

“Like Anat,” Ahk breathed. “No—even more stunning than she.”

You were a little embarrassed by his praise, but Ahkmenrah released his cock and scrambled to the edge of the bed, his legs opening just enough for you to stand between his knees.

Those strong fingers of his ghosted over every part of you he could reach, and before your eyes could slip shut, he said, “I love you, Y/N. I am honored by your decision.”

“I know,” you answered with a sweet smile.

Ahkmenrah stood and pulled you flush with his body. His earthy scent was as intoxicating as his warmth, and his hands gently ran up and down your back, making you pliant under his touch.

Your hands were resting on Ahk’s waist and you slid them up, over his chest, and to his shoulders. You looked into his eyes and were lost, two silly grins spreading across your faces as you looked at each other in anticipation of the coming intimacy.

Moving one of his hands under your chin, Ahk tilted up your head and lowered his mouth to yours.

At first, his lips just laid softly on top of yours, your eyes slipping shut and your hands wrapping around the back of his neck. Slowly, he pulled back to capture your upper lip, then your lower, pulling it between his lips and lightly sucking.

You licked lightly at his upper lip and Ahk released your bottom lip so you could deepen the kiss, your tongue entering his mouth, relishing in the taste of him.

You felt yourself being pushed gently back onto the bed and Ahkmenrah settled between your legs, his weight propped up on his arms as he began to kiss down your neck, pulling moans from your throat as he sucked and licked his way to your breasts.

His mouth encased your nipple and you reached down to grasp the back of his head, threading your fingers through his thick curls, pressing his face into the flesh of your breast until he pulled back, his tongue gently flicking at the stiff peak before moving over to repeat his actions.

You appreciated his attentiveness, but that ache, that need that felt like it was an animal all on its own made you hurry Ahk along, wriggling higher up on the bed and pushing his shoulders down so he’d keep going.

“I know you’re eager but I want this to be as painless as possible,” Ahkmenrah said between kisses over your stomach and your abdomen.

You nodded and squeezed your thighs around him in agreement, and when Ahk reached your core, he gently licked at your clit and you felt like your body was on fire. He was paying attention, though, and didn’t play with you for long. Instead, he sat up and spread your legs, your thighs easily falling open and for a moment you lost your breath, nerves fluttering through you as you thought this was it.

However, Ahkmenrah reached out with his finger and gently worked into your opening, thrusting shallowly as he gathered your copious wetness.

The sensation wasn’t enough—even when he added a second finger.

“Please,” you begged, a part of you just wanting to finally know what it felt like to have someone inside of you, another part of you craving the intimacy, the new connection that would be formed between you and Ahkmenrah.

He leaned forward and hovered over you, his fingers still working inside of you, but he was spreading them, pushing them against your tight walls, encouraging them to stretch.

“Soon, my love,” he soothed. “So soon.”

Ahkmenrah looked down at you, his own cheeks flushed, his lips parted as he breathed, his bright eyes memorizing your face as you looked up at him, and as you got lost in the affectionate warmth that radiated from his eyes, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you and replaced them with the tip of his cock.

He teased at your entrance, slickening himself, and you blinked, realizing that this was a new sensation.

“If it hurts—”

“I’m ready,” you said with finality as he bent to kiss your mouth before tracing his tongue along the edge of your jaw.

When he got close to your ear, he whispered, “Do you want to watch me disappear inside of you?”

A fresh flood of arousal coursed to your center as you processed his words, then nodded.

He pulled another pillow off the bed and situated it under your head before he sat back on his haunches and pulled your thighs flush with his, your legs spread open as he gently grasped your knees to hold them in position.

Ahkmenrah watched you as your eyes dropped from his face as soon as he pushed forward, his cock entering you slowly, giving you time to adjust.

It felt more odd than painful, to be stretched so wide with no abatement.

“Move,” you instructed, your eyes glancing up and catching the look of stern concentration on his face—he was so focused, it was comical. “Move, please,” you requested with a giggle.

Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and slowly pulled back before thrusting into you again.

“I am not going to last,” he admitted, opening his eyes again to check on you. “Are you—”

“I’m fine. Please.”

Ahkmenrah began to move with a slow, steady rhythm, determined to guide you away from the strange, uncomfortable sensation of having sex for the first time, and to move you toward that satiation of your earlier ache.

You watched him moving in and out of you, and you had no idea it would be so erotic to finally understand the feeling of having a man inside of you, and as you relaxed, your walls stretching as nature intended, you realized how powerful sex could be.

Ahkmenrah was lost; his face was still twisted in concentration and his fingers were bruising on your thighs. His chest was flushed and as it crept up his face and neck, the red deepened his skin from its golden hue to a pretty, deep russet.

He looked like a god, exiled from heaven and entirely at your mercy.

Had you known your body could turn this once-king, who always felt larger than life, so human, you may have been ready even sooner to give yourself to him. And therein was the contradiction—you were giving yourself to him, but it felt as though he was completely bent to your will, his body a slave to yours and not at all the other way around.

Overcome with emotion, you reached for Ahkmenrah and he blinked, refocusing on your face before he released your thighs and moved up your body, his torso resting against yours, his heat merging with yours, and you closed your eyes as you moved, too, no longer afraid of the discomfort.

“Ohhh,” Ahk moaned low in his throat. “My love.”

“I love you,” you whispered in his ear, reaching to kiss his jaw, clutching at his back and wanting nothing more than to extend this moment for eternity.

Not long after your declaration, Ahkmenrah held himself up, his hand cupping your face as he bent his forehead to yours and came, yet another new sensation that you thought felt strange as his cum flooded within you.

When he stopped moving, you held him against you, whispering for him not to move, not yet, not yet. Murmurs and whisperings of love passed between each of your lips as you softly kissed.

“Are you all right,” Ahk gently asked, when he moved to lay next to you.

With a grin, you rolled half onto him, and nipped at his lower lip.

“When can we do that again?”

Ahk’s face split into a wide grin, his teeth white and flashing as his chest began to rumble with laughter.

“Considering the way I feel about you, a moment, my love. All I need is a mere moment.”

You watched his eyes as he spoke, the laughter dying in his voice as his seriousness took hold, and for what could have been seconds or minutes, you locked eyes and luxuriated in the mutual radiance of your sweet love.

#Ahkmenrah #natm ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah fanfiction #ahkmenrah smut #but it is SWEET smut #Ahkmenrah x reader #female reader #rami malek characters #rami malek #first time #first time fic

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dimigex · 4 years ago

Text

New Altered Reality Chapter!

A03 / FF

I think it’s been like . . two years since I updated this story XD oops. The story is linked at the top if you want the full chapter and/or story. This is only a portion of the new chapter because it’s over 6k words

"Why don't you go train for a little while? It might take your mind off things." Rin made the suggestion as gentle as possible, ignoring the frustration that seethed just beneath the surface of her calm. She wanted the apartment to herself for a few hours and desperately needed Kakashi to stop fussing over her. Then, she'd be able to relax the way that she was supposed to. The man's constant attention put her on edge.

Since the doctor's appointment four days ago, Kakashi had been acting like a brooding hen. When Rin stood up to get her book from the bedroom, he'd jumped to his feet and offered to go instead. He didn't want her standing long enough to cook or clean, so he'd taken over those duties as well. While Kakashi was decent in the kitchen, he'd kept everything bland and refused to add any salt to the dishes. If the man mentioned her blood pressure one more time, Rin was fairly certain that hers would rise to dangerous levels when she yelled at him.

At Rin's words, Kakashi glanced up from the book in his lap. The man's brow furrowed as he marked his place with a finger. "What if you need something while I'm gone?"

"Then, I'll get it myself," Rin answered. She moderated her tone to placating rather than annoyed. It was more difficult than she expected. "I'm hardly an invalid, you know?"

"The doctor said you needed rest." Kakashi argued for the umpteenth time, as if Rin had forgotten it, as if he would give her a chance to forget it.

Rin held up her hand to stop Kakashi's next arguments before they could form. Slowly, she counted to five under her breath. The idea of laying in bed or on the couch for even one minute longer made her physically ill. She had done everything that she was supposed to: drinking glass after glass of water to keep herself hydrated, keeping the lights dim and the room quiet, resting on her left side whenever possible. There had been a dozen tiny things that might make a difference, or might not.

While that scenario would sound like a dream for some women, to Rin, it was a nightmare. She missed the days when training and missions kept her mind and body racing. When she was in the village, Rin kept herself busy wherever the hospital needed an extra set of hands. She hadn't chosen her specialization yet, but she was leaning toward pediatrics. Most medical nin worked in triage and emergencies, but there were plenty of quiet days as well. Rin liked the idea of helping children feel better rather than focusing on battle injuries.

Rin realized that her mind had drifted from the topic at hand and brought her eyes back to Kakashi. She couldn't help but appreciate the changes in her husband in the past few days, even when they annoyed her. In some ways, he was more like himself and others, he was totally different. Rin could manage the symptoms of her pregnancy; she'd done that when morning sickness left her more or less living on the bathroom floor for two months. But, she couldn't handle the hovering worry that radiated off of Kakashi.

"Why don't you go see if Minato has an update on your team?" Rin suggested, pushing into a sitting position.

Apprehension entered Kakashi's eyes. The man still hadn't been able to explain his nervousness over the chunin exams, no matter how much he tried. Rin almost felt bad for bringing up the memory, almost. Team Seven was the only distraction that could get Kakashi out of her hair for an hour or two. Sensing the man's wavering resolve, Rin pushed. "I'm just going to take a bath anyway. A cool one," Rin amended when Kakashi opened his mouth. He had been reading one of her many books about the dos and don't of pregnancy; Rin wished that she'd thrown them out once she finished.

"I'm sure he would have sent someone if there was news," Kakashi countered. His voice lacked its usual certainty, however. He wanted to know what was happening with his students as much as Rin wanted some time to breathe.

Rin nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Probably, but it would be good for you to get your mind off this mess." She gestured around the apartment. "Besides, if I need you, I can create a clone to find you. I still know how to do some things."

Over the past few months, Rin had been developing her chakra control. Once her pregnancy had been confirmed, she'd been removed from active duty. With missions off the table, she spent more time at the hospital. Even so, Rin was only permitted to assist with certain cases, so she spent her free time working through exercises that improved her control. Hopefully, that would allow her the freedom to study more medical ninjutsu after the baby was born. If she'd learned anything from being on a team with hotheaded Obito and reckless Kakashi, it was that a medic was always necessary.

"You promise you'll come find me if you need anything?" Kakashi's voice held a note of uncertainty that surprised Rin. When she nodded, he tucked a strip of cloth into the book on his lap and placed it on the table. "I won't be gone long, but maybe you're right. I'm sure there are rumors about teams finishing the second exam by now."

"Take your time," Rin offered, schooling her face to impassivity. If she looked hopeful at the free time, Kakashi would see the trap. He stood, stretching the stiff muscles in his back, then glanced in her direction. A slight frown appeared on his face.

He's debating whether or not to kiss me, Rin realized with a start. While Kakashi had changed significantly over the past few days, the hesitancy about displaying emotions with her remained. Honestly, it didn't bother Rin as much as his lost memories did. Kakashi had always been private and reserved with his affections. Deciding to meet him halfway, Rin caught his hand with hers and squeezed. Kakashi exhaled in relief.

"Go on," Rin prompted, dropping her fingers away. "I'll be good, I promise."

A smile tugged at the corners of Kakashi's mouth as he stepped closer. To Rin's surprise, he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. An unfamiliar explosion of heat washed through her chest at the gesture. "I'll bring dinner home," Kakashi continued, completely unaware of the effect he had on her. "Don't even think of trying to make it while I'm gone."

"Promise," Rin laughed, hoping that her smile disguised the fact that she had just been considering that very thing.

When the door shut behind Kakashi, Rin glanced at the calendar on the wall. She calculated how much longer she'd have to endure Kakashi's worrying before life could get back to normal. If everything went perfectly, they would meet their son in twelve weeks; Rin could hang on that long. She didn't have a choice.

When a brief knock sounded on the office door, Minato glanced up from the paperwork in his hand. Shikaku slipped through before he had time to answer, and Minato's heart leaped into his throat. "Has there been news?"

The second chunin exam was coming to a close, and there still hadn't been any word of Naruto's team. Minato knew that his son and his teammates were talented shinobi, but the exams were designed to be taxing. He'd seen just as many groups fail because of bad luck as poor skill. With the relative peace in the shinobi nations, fewer genin were advanced to the next rank. Minato agreed with the changes, but he could still remember all too well how quickly the ninja wars had started.

Shikaku shook his head as he shut the door behind him. "None about Team Seven."

Minato understood what the man wasn't saying; there were more important things to worry about than Naruto's advancement. Shikaku's son was also competing in the exams, he had to be wondering about the same things as Minato, but Shikaku remained detached. He stayed focused on the other matters that required his attention to keep the village running. Shikaku had been an excellent pick as Minato's second in command, and Minato didn't know what he would do without him most days.

Dipping his head in understanding, Minato pressed a thumb and forefinger against his eyes to stave off a headache. It had been a stressful week. When he wasn't torn between worries over Kakashi's memory and Naruto's performance, Minato had been dealing with chaos of having multiple villages together. There had been half a dozen fights to break up, tempers that needed soothing, and the exhaustion of hosting delegates. He cringed. "What is it this time? A broken nose over which kage is the strongest? Blood feud over the death of a distant relative? A comment taken the wrong way?"

"None of the above." Shikaku didn't crack a smile at Minato's attempted levity. Whatever he had come to say must be bad. Minato waited in silence. "I wasn't sure what to make of the report, so I brought it to you immediately. Someone made an attempt against the village barrier."

Minato shifted, mind flashing back to Kakashi's warning about Orochimaru. Even so, he forced himself to think logically rather than responding with a knee jerk reaction. "Did the Anbu tasked with that portion of the village find anything out of the ordinary? Which team was it?"

Again, Shikaku shook his head. "Obito's team deemed it a false alarm, something bound to happen with this many foreigners in the village."

Minato nodded without answering. Technically, his advisor shouldn't know the names of the men and women in Anbu, but Obito's presence hadn't been easy to hide, especially from someone who worked closely with Minato. Shikaku had been an effective jonin commander because he knew the strengths and weaknesses of every jonin in the village. There were few who weren't under his purview at some point, but Minato had no doubt that the man knew them as well. He wouldn't be good at his job if he didn't.

"Was there any evidence to suggest otherwise, anything at all?" Minato hated asking the question, but he couldn't afford to be lax with village safety during the chunin exams. There had been too many warnings to write this off as a coincidence. Though, he knew that if Shikaku had more information, he would have supplied it already.

Shikaku's sigh spoke volumes. He'd been under the same pressure as Minato the past couple of weeks. "No, everything appears to be in order."

Minato wondered if Shikaku had been thinking about Kakashi's warning when he brought that message. As much as Minato wanted to, he hadn't been able to keep that solely between himself and Inoichi. He relied on Shikaku too much to withhold such critical information. Even so, he held back as much as he could about Kakashi's memory loss. Until he figured out the cause, the less that everyone else knew, the better.

Tapping long fingers against the polished wood of his desk, Minato considered. He wanted to hear the report from his Anbu, but that would require summoning Obito. Or, perhaps, he could get by with asking Tenzo about it. The remorse that Obito had shown for what he did to Kakashi wasn't enough; the boy needed to realize that his behavior would not be tolerated. Minato decided to summon Tenzo once Shikaku left and get the full report on the disturbance. Though, he suspected it was a false alarm.

Sensing that he'd only skimmed the surface of Shikaku's reports, Minato nodded. "What else?"

A wry grin twisted the jonin's commander's face as he glanced down at the notes in his hand. "Uchiha Fugaku has requested a private meeting with you." Minato's eyebrows rose at that, wondering who Fugaku would want to talk about, one of his sons or Obito. It wasn't like the clan head to meet with Minato for something minor.

Minato dipped his head in understanding, then Shikaku continued his thought. "He requests a private meeting in the Uchiha compound."

The locale didn't surprise Minato. Fugaku must have found out something about the mystery surrounding Kakashi, but it wasn't something he wanted to risk being overhead. Which meant that it probably touched on some clan secret. Having the Hokage come to the compound instead of the other way around would raise the clan's opinion of Fugaku, at least. There were still some people, particularly in the Uchiha clan, who wished that Fugaku had become Hokage instead of Minato. Hopefully the man's information would be worth the hassle.

Minato glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite noon, and he was already longing for home. "When am I supposed to be there?"

Shikaku consulted his notes to be sure he was correct before speaking. "Tonight. Your schedule was too full to allow time during the day, and with the second exam ending in the morning, there wasn't another opportunity."

Fugaku didn't want to wait that long, Minato realized after a moment. He dipped his head in understanding; there were a million loose ends that needed to be tied up before the final exam could begin. Even problems as important as this one had to wait. Minato rubbed at his temples in frustration, then gestured for Shikaku to continue. "What else?"

(Full chapter and story available on A03 and FF, linked at top of the post)

#Dimi writes #Altered Reality Update #KakaRin #Kakashi #Rin #Full chapter available on Archive and Fanfic #This update is ridiculously old and I'm sorry #Hopefully this will give me inspiration to keep going

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penisman420-69 · 3 years ago

Note

A gentle glow from the computer screen washes over the dark desk, colors flickering in rapid motion. The monitor whirs in self defense of the growing heat. The ceiling fan lays mockingly silent in the stifling air. Reclined in his seat, Dream's head is tilted back to watch the wooden slats for the slightest tremor.

Betrayal.

Beads of sweat collect near his hairline. He tugs absently on the sticky plastic of his headphones, where they rest around his neck. The small light on the exterior blinks green.

"Dream?" He hears George say faintly.

"Wait, did he leave?" Sapnap asks.

"It says he's on the call, still." George's voice slowly grows closer. Dream begins to detach his eyes from the fan. "Dream?"

The concern in his voice makes Dream sit up. He pushes his headphones back on and wipes his face. "Yes, yes, hello, sorry. I zoned out for a sec." He blinks to register what's on his screen, seeing green grass blocks and Sapnap's avatar crouching in front of him. "Shoot, did you end the stream?" He quickly tabs out just in time to see George laugh.

"No, but I'm about to. Couldn't end it without you saying bye," George says. The small considerate act is enough to bloom a warmth in Dream's chest.

He smiles. "Oh, alright. Bye stream!"

"Bye!" Sapnap yells.

George waves to the camera. "Bye you guys, thank you so much. Also, pray for Dream's air conditioning."

"And my broken fan," Dream adds.

"Bye bye," George repeats, then disappears from Dream's view. This stream has ended. A familiar feeling creeps into Dream's chest whenever that message appears post-stream; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.

He frowns. "Sorry I spent so much of your stream complaining about the weather," he says, clicking back to the server. Sapnap has placed an oak sign before him that reads: wee waa dream can't take the heat. He rolls his eyes and breaks it.

"It's fine, really. I just feel bad for you," George says. His avatar bounds over and starts placing doors on the ground. "Any idea when it'll be fixed?"

"Soon, I hope," Dream answers with a huff, opening and closing the doors to appease George. "I don't think I can take much more of this." They'd been playing for the past three hours, meaning Dream had been accumulating enough sweat in his boxers to stick to his chair for much longer than any man should. Physical comfort was a key component for him to stay mellow, and not much could distract him from itchy tags and blistering heat. Not much, that is, besides gaming. "Seeing you was nice, though, something about your cheerful face distracts me from my agony," he confesses, words leaving his mouth before he can attempt to filter. He cringes. What was that?

"Oh my god, shut up," George says. He sounds embarrassed.

Sapnap coos. "Maybe I should stream with my camera on too."

Dream laughs, running away from the two of them to ease his sudden spike in nervousness. "That would keep my attention."

"Oh yeah, are my streams not interesting enough for you Dream?" George says, flying after him.

"What?" Dream says, feeling a pang of guilt. "What makes you think that? I love your streams."

George continues to act offended. "If you loved them you wouldn't zone out randomly."

"I didn't mean to," Dream whines, which only makes the other two laugh. "I just got distracted by my misery, and tried to airbend a breeze in here."

"Yeah right," Sapnap says, "you couldn't have been doing just that for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Dream repeats, bewildered. He didn't feel it had been that long; he was exploring the map and then clicked onto George's stream to see where he was, and of course George was smiling and yelling, but somehow so full of energy and spirit, and the hot air started to seep into Dream's soul—

"You were AFK for a while," George says, "we were still talking to you though and thought you'd muted yourself or something. Chat thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh," Dream says.

"Hold on, did you mean to mute yourself?" Sapnap asks, laughing as his own words leave his mouth. "Lil too excited watching George?"

Both Dream and George explode in disgusted yells. Good lord, Sapnap.

"Sapnap!" George sends a series of hits raining down onto his avatar. "You are so inappropriate off-stream."

"You're gross," Dream says with a laugh, but it's feeble and half-hearted. His pulse is rapidly drumming inside his skull. He is not lost to the strange dilemma of why he faded from their call for so long to stare at his George-less ceiling. Why did George have anything to do with it? Envy, perhaps, of his friend's ability to be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. He brushes it off. "It's true, though. George's face does get me excited."

George groans, making Sapnap and Dream laugh. "Now you're just trying to make me uncomfortable."

"Flustered, you mean," Dream inputs quickly.

"Okay, no, I'm sick of you two," George says, immediately exiting their server. "Consider this a rage quit."

GeorgeNotFound has left the game. Dream sends a :( into the chat.

"Noo, Georgie," Sapnap pleads.

"You did a great job today," Dream says, wholeheartedly. "I'm going to re-watch what I missed of it later." George laughs.

"I seriously have to go. I'll talk to you soon," he says, a small sound emitting from Discord signifying he's left the call.

The feeling returns to Dream's chest—it's akin to the cold rush that follows when he removes his hands from a steaming coffee mug. Some nights after their friends have logged off for good, he'll do anything to avoid giving in and going to bed. Twitter, mini-games, coding, creating playlists. His favorite nights, though, are when George wakes up early enough to keep him company. Their conversations radiate with the warmth of both the Florida night and the English sunrise.

So whenever George jokingly becomes angry with him, Dream can't dispel the tiny tremor of worry that maybe he's gone too far. He doesn't like to mull over the thought of them really fighting; it would terrify him like nothing else. He knows George will call again tomorrow, and that he isn't nearly as upset as he lets on. Yet he still finds himself carefully watching the dot next to George's name switch from green to a pale grey.

"I think I'm gonna hop off too," Dream says to Sapnap.

"Alright, seeya."

After disconnecting, he swivels around in his chair to face his bed. The dark comforter has been kicked to the floor, sheets askew. The window above his bed is shut tight to keep out the humid air and insects, but he can see the soft orange streetlights in the distance.

He sighs and wishes for rain.

He remembers running barefoot on his neighborhood streets as a child when storms would roll in from the sea, splashing in gravelly puddles and letting the cool raindrops dampen his hair. That space was always euphoric—a brief temperance from the smoldering air, green palm trees swaying in the wind, the hint of thunder and lightning—but it feels so far from him now. Especially in this dreadful weather.

He turns off his computer and begrudgingly gets in bed. He's nearly grown accustomed to the dark when his phone vibrates, the notification lighting up the room. He squints.

A text from George.

I feel like this song is a good way for me to get back at you, it reads. Dream clicks on the link, opening his Spotify to a new 'Glass Animals' song.

"Heat Waves," he responds, smiling. Very funny.

He'll listen to that in the morning. As he sets his phone back on the nightstand, Dream finds himself warmed by the gesture, even though it was an insult on his behalf. George is a thoughtful guy. Nothing wrong with appreciating that. Not that Dream finds it unnerving that interacting with George has a direct correlation with his general contentment and moods; in fact, it isn't worth the overthinking.

Settled by his own logic, he allows his body to focus on sleep. He slips in and out of shadows, occasionally tossing and turning in irritation at the cotton sheets. The fabric clings to his dampened skin up to the moment he sluggishly kicks it away. Something clatters to the floor, but Dream rolls onto his side.

Eventually, the night cools enough for him to sink deeper, and deeper, until he turns his head from his soft, warm pillow to a cold pile of sand.

Confused, he grasps at the foundation beneath him only for the rocky grains to slip through his fingers.

He sits up rapidly, glancing at the beach now surrounding him. Although the image is narrow, he can tell there is a murky-purple lagoon lapping a few feet before him. The moon ripples across its ominous surface. The night is quiet; a taunting breeze brushing the back of his neck and bringing chills down his spine.

He looks down at his hands, seeing his bright sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Bright green.

A sinking feeling begins to rot in his stomach as the familiarity sets in. He's been here before. He shifts his head cautiously, realizing where the shadows at the edge of his vision are coming from, and raises a hand to gently graze the ceramic covering his face. He doesn't need a mirror to know what the mask looks like.

He pulls up his hood, tensing as he anticipates the next subject he'll recognize. At any moment, behind his right shoulder, a voice will call from the edge of the trees that'll say—

"Dream?"

He freezes. That's—that's not right, it isn't supposed to be—

"George?" He asks quietly, turning around with caution. George stands a few feet behind him, goggles perched atop his head and an axe in his hand. He's looking around their location, dazed. The starry sky reflects itself on his lenses.

He walks across the sand towards Dream slowly. "Where...are we?"

"Um." Dream considers curling in on himself, but can't help fighting the comfort of honesty. "My head, I guess." He knows from experience that this place values integrity more than anything. Facing it head on, so to speak. He just doesn't know why he'd let George in here—it isn't safe.

"It's pretty," George says, sitting on the sand next to him.

Dream's heart aches faintly at his remark. Once, he'd thought it was pretty, too. He can't find the words to tell George that after so many years of frantically slipping on the sand, coughing up lung-fulls of the dark water, and running from the woods—it has become a thing of nightmares.

He stares at George. Can he feel the memories here?

"So this is..." George gestures around with his axe vaguely. "Florida?"

Dream cracks a smile. "Yeah, you finally made it," he teases softly. George's grin is bright enough to make him look away. "It's a lagoon I used to come to as a kid."

"You make it sound like that was lifetimes ago."

Something foreign and lost weighs on the tension in Dream's features, forgotten behind the ceramic. "Maybe," he says, "I've had multiple lives here."

George says nothing. He lifts a moon-soaked hand to point at the water. "Do you see those?"

Dream turns his head, and small glowing blobs appear near the shore. Their light blue color is stark against the darkness as they float idly.

"They're moon jellies," Dream says in disbelief. He's never seen them here before. The curling darkness steals all hint of life besides him, his beating heart, and occasional whispers in the wind.

George hums in approval. Dream looks at him again, grateful for the mask covering his own features. Pale moonlight makes George's skin glow a soft porcelain, pink lips pressed together in a delicate brush stroke.

The word bubbles up from deep in Dream's chest, winding into his bloodstream and landing gracefully in his head.

Beautiful.

He wants to back away from it, to shove it deep down. But for once, it feels safe here, safe to admit it to himself without needing an air of humor to skate by on. Here, it isn't a joke.

"Why are we here?" George asks in a murmur, gaze lifting to face Dream. The word here hangs with a heavy lilt, as if he'd meant to say, what brought me? Who pulled me?

Was it you?

In his large brown eyes Dream can see the faded reflection of his sloppy black and white smile.

"I know why I'm here," Dream says carefully, "but I don't know why you are." A brief rustling of leaves and twigs behind them causes him to tense again. "It's dangerous here, George. We should go."

"Why? Don't you want to stay in this memory?"

Dream ignores the comment, and lightly wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. George doesn't try to stand. He keeps them rooted to the white shore with a confused frown.

"Nothing is going to hurt us when I'm here," he says.

Dream feels his face grow hot. "Knock it off. This is serious."

George looks at him earnestly. "I'm being serious."

Now that his arm is draped protectively over George's small frame, Dream becomes extremely aware of how close they are. He can sense George's body heat, watch his chest rise and fall, see the goosebumps on his neck. Dream's heart begins to pound. For how long has he wanted to meet him? To hear his voice in person? The fear inside him slowly begins to ebb away into fondness.

The moon jellies rapidly multiply until the lagoon is dappled blue, and gleaming.

George grins. "I told you it's pretty."

"Because of you," Dream says warmly. Even though George rolls his eyes, he means it. They laugh lightly at each other, glowing water and gentle sparks blooming as the moment passes.

George's gaze lingers on Dream for a few heartbeats, before letting go of his axe. He raises his hand to reach for the ceramic mask.

Dream freezes as his eyes follow the motion. His hood falls when George runs his fingers gently through his wavy hair—he can't remember the last time he let someone do this. It feels intimate. It feels terrifying. His eyes shut when George finds the metal clasp on the back of his head, he exhales when he feels the weight of the mask drop from his face.

The breeze is cold on his cheeks. He can smell the nearby saltwater. He opens his eyes, and sees twice as many stars as usual.

"How did you do that? I've never..." He looks at George, who is smiling softly.

"I know honesty is important to you," George says. His hand moves to gently touch Dream's cheekbone.

Dream reaches and delicately takes George's hand in his, slender knuckles and fingers sliding together with timid grace. He feels alive. He leans closer, studying George's eyes until he slips down, further, to his soft lips. His breath is trembling.

"And what if I kissed you right now?" He murmurs, heart racing. "How honest would that be?"

George's eyes grow wide. "I—well, Dream—you—" he stammers, giving Dream exactly what he needs to let go.

Their movements happen nearly all at once—the inclining of George's jaw, the slide of Dream's hand into his hair, the connection of their lips. The kiss is raw with emotion, and gentle. Hot embers rise from Dream's chest to heat his face. The soft presence of George's mouth against his own is surreal, as their senses collectively slip away into the dreamland. His hand rises to softly cup George's jaw. He pulls his face closer, breath hot, heart stuttering. Nervous energy quickly ebbs into a strong hearth of longing, as he kisses George again, and again, and again. George emits a soft noise that makes Dream melt. He can feel George's hands in his hair, then on his neck, then on his chest.

Dream pulls away to capture brief puffs of air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as he looks at George's flushed cheeks and mouth kissed red. Because of him. A low feeling stirs in the space just below his ribcage, the first flickering of a dangerously hot flame. All of it, all of George, just for him.

Dream parts his lips to say something, anything—and promptly wakes up.

I have heatwaves saved on my computer it doesn't phase me anymore I've read this several times you can't hurt me with this

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mando-chicken · 4 years ago

Text

Mental Occupation | Chapter 3.

“When Fives is killed, his essence refuses to become one with the force, instead, searching out the easiest sentient being to attach itself to. After years working beneath Palpatine, Fox has had his mental shields completely eroded and his defences completely shattered, making him the perfect person for Fives’ essence to transfer into. The two of them must figure out how all this strange ‘jedi stuff’ works and how they can both coexist long enough to save their brothers and if they’re lucky, perhaps the rest of the galaxy too.”

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Thire tried not to frown as he watched Fox silently eat his morning meal, listening to his fellow commanders as they playfully teased one another and swapped gossip, while keeping an eye on his older brother for any signs of distress. While it was quite common for Fox to stay relatively quiet first thing in the morning, especially before his first cup of caff for the day, he seemed to be even more withdrawn than usual. In truth, Thire had wanted to let him sleep for a little longer as he was certain that the other commander had barely slept, but the mess hall didn’t wait around for anyone, and he wanted to be sure that Fox got a decent serve of rations before he would no doubt sneak away to hide in his office under a pile of datapads.

When Fox was stressed, he tended to push his brothers away and throw himself into his work. He could detach himself from the world with the cold, hard logic of forms and reports, refusing to accept comfort or express any of the emotions swirling around in his mind. They would give him space for a while and allow him to work his way through whatever was weighing on his mind, and he would always come back to them in the end. He just needed them nearby to offer their support in the form of silent companionship and reassurances.

But this situation was unlike anything they had faced before, and Thire wasn’t sure that Fox’s usual method of dealing with trauma would help him to move on from the horrifying situation he had just been through. While the exact details surrounding what happened were rather vague at best, one thing was blaringly obvious. Fox had killed a brother.

The very thought made Thire’s insides squirm in discontent, and he was unable to stop the slightly ill look from claiming his features as he rolled the concept around in his head. It truly made no sense as to why Fox would allow such a thing to happen – he was practically the king of preaching about how important the stun setting of their weapons were when dealing with their targets – so for him to then turn around and shoot one of their own brothers was unspeakable. There was no doubt that it had to have been an accident, but Fox didn’t make mistakes. Alpha-17 didn’t raise some rookie amateur who went into every situation guns blazing, he raised a calm, confident commander, who always managed to get the job done efficiently and competently.

He didn’t know what had happened to Fox, and for the sake of preserving what was left of the man’s sanity, Thire would give him some time to process it, but he was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another. He just hoped that Cody was able to keep his younger brother, Rex, at bay long enough for him to do so. To say that the Captain had been mad would have been a massive understatement – the man was seeing red and looked about a second away from trying to return the favour – it was lucky that Thire had managed to turn up when he did, because even General Skywalker seemed to be having trouble keeping him calm.

From the corner of his eye he could see that despite the fact Thorn was happily ribbing Stone for something that had happened on one of the missions overnight, the other Commander kept subtly glancing at Fox. He was trying to act as normal as possible, but the curiosity burning in his eyes was more than obvious. It made sense – Thorn had been in a completely different sector when everything had gone down, only hearing about what had happened over comms and during the debrief afterwards while Fox slept in the medbay – he was closer to Fox than any of them, had known him longer, and worried for him like an anxious mother nexu. Thorn was clearly struggling not to just grab his brother by the shoulders and shake the information out of him, but if there was one thing all members of the Guard had to learn, it was patience.

Stone was perhaps the most collected of them all, but that was only to be expected. He had always been able to practically ooze calm from his very pores, and this situation was no different. He wasn’t uncaring, of course, simply able to remain confident and collected – perhaps that was why he kept getting assigned to working with Senator Binks, much to Stone’s eternal agony – but it was easy to see how he was unnerved from the way his brow was constantly furrowed and he kept getting lost in his thoughts.

“How are you feeling this morning, Fox?” Of course Hound would be the one to speak to the Commander so bluntly. The kid was only a sergeant, technically not high ranking enough that he should be addressing a commanding officer so casually, yet they’d admittedly taught him a couple of bad habits over the years. Thorn had taken the younger clone under his wing when he was fresh off Kamino, teaching him how to survive in the treacherous landscape that was Coruscant. They’d brought him to their table, allowed him to work closely with them, and inevitably brought him into their inner circle.

Fox jerked after a moment, seeming to suddenly realise that he was the one being addressed, blinking owlishly at Hound, “fine.” His response drew a disbelieving scoff from Stone, who offered a raised eyebrow. “I’m a little tired if you must know,” he continued slowly, sensing that his answer was not exactly what they’d been looking for, “nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”

That got a genuine laugh from the table. A good night’s sleep? Unheard of. But Thire was pleased to see that at least some of Fox’s cynical humour remained.

“Seriously though, what did happen last night?” Hound managed to ask after quieting his amused chuckles, “there’s some real strange rumours floating around the barracks, and I thought that maybe you could give us a little info-”

“Quit digging for gossip, Hound, before we chuck you back to the CT table,” Thorn growled, wrapping an arm around Hound’s neck and dragging him into a firm headlock, “never should have let you hang out with us, you’re too nosy for your own good, kid. You’ll find out when the info gets declassified, just like everyone else.”

Hound pulled an admirable attempt at making sad tooka eyes, but Thorn simply tightened his hold until the younger clone was forced to slap at the commander’s arm, needing breath. “Should’ve left me where you found me,” he grinned after finally being freed from Thorn’s hold, “besides, you love me too much to send me back now.”

Thorn simply glowered at him, stealing a tuber from his brother’s plate in retaliation, “perhaps,” he nodded, “or perhaps I just knew you’d never make it on your own, especially not with the way you keep poking your nose into everyone else’s business.”

Hound made an indignant squawking sound, puffing up like an offended bird. He tried to reach out with his own fork to steal back a tuber from Thorn’s plate, but the older brother was too swift, too used to dealing with vengeful little brothers, and slid the plate out of Hound’s reach. He ensured to shove another tuber in his mouth, just for spite.

When Thire looked to Fox, he didn’t have that disapproving scowl on his face, or the amusement that twinkled deep within his eyes, giving away his true feelings. Instead, he seemed almost nervous, like he was intruding on something not meant for him to see. While his brothers played and joked and tried to keep the atmosphere as normal as possible, Fox seemed to keep looking away, distracted by something only he could see. His fork moved around and around his plate, but barely any of the food had been disturbed. Most worryingly, the cup of caff that should have already been downed, sat untouched before him, no longer steaming as the commander preferred.

Before Thire could mention it, however, his wrist comm chimed at him, signalling an end to their morning meal and a need to return to duty. “Alrighty boys, that’s our cue to head out,” he sighed, taking the last sip of his own caff, scowling at the bitter taste of the now cool dregs. His words were met with a chorus of groans as the rest of the table rushed to stuff their faces with the rest of their meal.

Thorn was the first to stand, his stance already shifting into his usual command stance, “You heard Thire boys, and you all know your designated duties for this morning, so I’d suggest you all get to it.” He was answered by a mix of affirmatives as the other commanders and their sergeant gathered up their now empty plates and mugs, breaking apart to return them to the serving area to be cleaned in time for mid-meal.

Thire, as agreed with Thorn last night while Fox had slept, stayed behind to wait as Fox too returned his items (a still full caff cup among them) to the servers. He moved to walk in step with his fellow commander, leading their way through the bustling hallways and towards the offices. There were men running in all directions – officers barking orders at squads as they raced towards their destinations, and soft-shells sprinting down the corridors, arms piled high with datapads and flimsi sheets – it made navigating the base a challenge at best, and a nightmare at worst.

Eventually, they managed to reach Fox’s office and Thire was quick to type in the access code, sliding inside and out of the steady stream of brothers. Fox is swift to lock the door behind them, glancing around the room briefly, before wandering over to his desk and taking a long look at the rather intimidating pile of datapads. He places his helmet down at the foot of the desk, and Thire is glad that Fox is at least feeling well enough to keep the bucket off his head to look his brother in the eyes.

“I know it’s not much,” Thire begins, clearing his throat, “but like I said, we were able to get you the first few hours off this morning, so you can focus on dealing with that monster,” he gestures at the unsigned pads, “or you could, y’know, actually relax for a few minutes.” He expects Fox to offer him his usual deadpan expression, but the man just nods slowly, seemingly unsure what to say in response.

He continues, saving his brother from having to come up with something, “I should be heading off though, I’ve got chancellor sitting duty,” he huffs, the irritation in his tone completely genuine. Fox makes an odd expression, caught somewhere between looking like he’d tasted something sour, and horror. A reasonable enough response, given the shadiness of the man’s character, and, of course, the fact that he always seemed to enjoy using the Guard as his personal servants.

“Yep, I understand that look,” he grinned, hoisting up his bucket and placing it over his head, clicking it into place. He took a step to the door before pausing, “just make sure you comm me, or Thorn if you’d prefer, if you need anything. And I mean it, anything, Fox.” He waits until his brother gives a nod, before heading back out the door and merging with the stream of brothers heading toward the exit. He didn’t like Fox’s behaviour, but there was little he could do about it. He could, however, think of someone who would know exactly what to do with him.

Thire pulled up his wrist comm, beginning to type out a new message to Commander Cody.

-----

Fives is quiet when Commander Thire leaves the office, taking a moment to ensure he was completely alone, before huffing out a deep breath. He swayed slightly on his feet with the force of it, bringing a hand up to his head to begin massaging his aching temple. He could already tell that a nasty headache was brewing from the stress alone. Yet another problem to add to his steadily growing list.

It had been particularly painful to sit through morning meal with the other commanders of the Coruscant Guard, trying his best to pretend he did not see the way they were all eyeing him, clearly dying to interrogate him for answers he simply did not possess. He had been especially startled when the lone sergeant, Hound, his mind supplied, had spoken to him, and he regretted not having been paying full attention.

Rather, Fives had been entirely absorbed by his own thoughts. Something did not sit right with the way his brain seemed to be randomly supplying him with information he was certain he did not have previously. The names of all the commanders came to him as easily as the names of his own batchmates, as if he’d known them all along, despite the fact he had only met half of them before and even then it was only a mere glance in passing.

Yet somehow he felt as though he already knew their tells. He knew how Thire constantly worked hard to prove that it was the right decision to promote him to the rank of commander. He knew how Thorn had a particular soft spot for the shinies that came to join the Guard, and would defend them to his final breath if it came down to it. He knew how Stone preferred to hang back from the others, but loved them no less fiercely. And he even knew that despite all his bravado, Hound was a soft man at heart and always carried candies in his belt pockets for children he came across on patrol.

But Fives didn’t know them, not really, they were strangers.

He had always been good at reading people. It was a skill he had possessed since he was a child – to look at one of his brothers or one of the trainers and near enough feel their emotions echoed back at him as clearly as words printed on piece of flimsi – and he had always assumed that it was a natural ability. But this seemed too much, even for his natural aptitude for noticing subtle cues.

There were so much unexplained knowledge suddenly bombarding Fives’ thoughts, and his head only pounded louder as he tried to figure out why he seemed to already know how to navigate the base with his eyes closed. The layout of the base seemed to suddenly click in his mind, like he had forgotten it briefly, but had always known it seep down. It was as though his mind was clouded, something blocking him from accessing all of the thoughts he could feel buried somewhere deep within his head, only the occasional thought drifting through the fog and to the forefront of his mind.

Fives sunk down into the rather uncomfortable seat across from the lone desk, the crimson of his borrowed armour catching his attention. He knew that he was most certainly not in his own body, and so wondered if he had somehow, accidentally, acquired some of the commander’s lingering thoughts. As far as Fives’ knowledge of the situation went, it seemed as reasonable an explanation as he would be able to come up with.

It made him feel dirty. He had no idea what had happened to himself, or to Commander Fox, but it felt downright voyeuristic to be partial to the random raw thoughts that came from whatever remained of the Commander’s mind. But he had no idea how to find out what had happened to either of them, or how to rectify their rather precarious situation. If Commander Fox’s thoughts were still able to linger, then was he too present somewhere, locked deep within Fives’ consciousness? Or had Fox somehow traded places with him and now inhabited a cold corpse? Fives certainly hoped not.

For a moment he closed his eyes, thinking hard on the foreign mass of thoughts plaguing his mind, deciding that he might as well try to figure out a few things while he had a few hours to himself. He deeply regretted not paying Commander Tano more attention when she had described Jedi meditation to him, but found that it wasn’t too difficult to try and isolate the foggy area from the rest of his mind. He recalled her talking about being able to create shields around a mind, to keep out the thoughts of others, something that all sentients could achieve (albeit not to the degree of a force sensitive).

He was no doubt clumsy with his method of ‘shielding’, and it was significantly more work than Fives had been expecting, but in the end he felt satisfied with his attempt. He was pretty certain that he had managed to corral all of the rogue thoughts into the one area, away from his actual thoughts so that he could tell which one of them was thinking what, rather than having a jumble of random sensations and thoughts mixing together.

His head seemed to burn whenever he disturbed the other mind lingering in his head, but Fives pushed determinedly onward. Poking and prodding at it like an overexcited child, desperate to find even the slightest sign that there could be even a spark of life. It was a tedious process but finally, after what felt like agonising hours of work, Fives felt a sharp feeling of surprise stab back at him.

The mass of fog seemed to shudder and shift, rearranging itself until it formed a slightly more coherent shape that Fives usually associated with the feeling of another person’s mind when he tried to get a grasp on their emotions, only amplified tenfold. He could feel Fox, if only vaguely. He seemed groggy, as though just waking up from a long sleep, and Fives was a little unnerved by the unnatural feeling of someone else’s emotions flickering through his mind. He silently prayed that the Commander wouldn’t be too angry, but it seemed his hope was in vain, for the first clear emotion Fives felt was irritation at a level commanders usually reserved for the poor shiny tasked with waking them from a pleasant nap. His fears were confirmed when a thought came thundering across his mind.

“What the kriff just happened!?”

#writing #star wars #the clone wars #arc trooper fives #commander thire #commander fox #commander thorn #commander stone #sergeant hound #mental occupation #fanfic

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impaladolan · 4 years ago

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Capture - Grayson Dolan [4/-]

summary: after the catistrophic realization of inescapable confinement, y/n is taken back to her previous quarters and her abductor seems a little different..

warnings: swearing & mentions of smut (idk if i should TW this, there’s a subtle mention of “malnourishment”, just in case you’re sensitive to that topic)

a/n: y’all wanted it... on a real note, i appreciate everyone’s excitement and care for this series!!! i seriously love every single one of you <3

(masterlist) *including all capture parts

When you felt the warmth of his hand radiate around the coolness of your ankle, your heart fled from its natural position, all the way down to where he resistantly gripped you. And with a sigh, you fall to him. Hopelessness filled you and you knew he'd keep you one way or another. If there was any chance of escaping, this would have been it.

Your body was swiftly caught by his massive arms, and he held you tightly. Not only in fear of you trying to break free of him, but in pity of your sake. "Y/N, you can't keep doing this. I can't let you go, it's too dangerous." His hard and complex composure was stiffened and your body began to shiver with the urge to cry, revolt, and frankly a want to bash his head in. "What's too dangerous?! You can't fucking keep me here forever. I want to go home, and see my family and friends again. Not this stupid fucking house and it's stupid fucking walls that I look at everyday!" You held back the sobs of pain, whilst you gritted your teeth and spat your endless reasons as to why you want to leave this dungeon of a home. He didn't show any signs of emotion, although his eyes glimmered with a tinge of remorse.

"Listen, and do it well Y/N. All your questions and disturbances will be dealt with at a later time. You may continue your petty little escape attempts, but that will only lengthen your stay here. The better you act and obey me, the more freedoms and control you will have within this household. Understand that if you continue your acts of disobedience, you'll earn consequences." His voice was stern and cold as he walked the both of you back into the stubbornly freezing house, where your heart sank lower into your stomach and a sudden arousal drifted through you. Being held flush against his bare frontside, and the strong scent of his lingering cologne made you want to fling every piece of clothing that disconnected your bodies from being skin-to-skin.

"Consequences, you say? What're you gonna do? Tie me up and make me suck your cock? Spank my ass like it even hurts?" You breathe against his ear, his grip tightening around your suspended body. "Edge me until I'm begging for your permission to cum? Fuck me like a man would? Though, you've barely done any of those things, have you?" He groaned deeply to your words, kicking open a door and slamming you against it with your feet dropping to the ground. He roughly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, eyeing you with a sort of distressed anger you've never witnessed before.

Well, fuck.

"Are you questioning my ability to pleasure a women, Y/N?" You struggled under his firm grasp, a throbbing slickness beginning to pool at your core. Your body really had a mind of its own, it clouded your mind with images of him— doing exactly everything you had mentioned before, but better. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your eyes blaring into his challengingly. "More so punish, don't you think?" The hairs upon the nape of your neck raised as he lowered his body closer to you, only a few inches of distance between.

In an instant, he lowered his hands to the valley of your hips and spun you around, roughly pushing you against the door as he reattached his hands with yours right above your head. "You're a bit mouthy today, hmm?" His deep voice presumed right against your ear as he collided with your backside, removing one of his hands from above you and slipping it under the hem of your dress. He slowly ran his hand slowly up your thigh, creating a trail of goosebumps along with it. “Well you’re a little fucking touchy today.” You silently grin at your own little comment, though that quickly fades away as he reaches his hand up, cupping his large hand around your breast. “You think I’m touchy, huh?” He fiddles his fingers around your nipple, pinching only soft enough to send a small shock throughout your body. “M’hm, sir.”

Your reply seemed to frustrate him further as he drew his hand from under your silky night gown, gripping your hips and pushing you to the bed with what sounded like a growl almost. You turned yourself around to face him, sitting up on your elbows as you mischievously grin. “Oops, my bad, I meant yes Daddy.” Just two words is all it took for him to come to his final breaking point. He initially froze, except for his hardening cock, and just gave you a cold stare. He brought his hand up and motioned to you. “Come here.” To his words, you slowly rose from your position on the bed and stood, taking only a few steps until you were close enough to decipher the natural color of his eyes.

Hazel.

“Remove this.” He said in almost disgust, pinching the fabric of the nightwear you were under. You simply bent down, running your hands down your sides until your fingers were met with the ends of the fabric. From there, you pulled it up and over your head without a second doubt, revealing your half-bare nakedness to his eyes.

Not like he hasn’t seen it before anyway...

His eyes lingered upon your breasts a little long as well as your physique, until he noticed the small indent of your ribcage against your torso. You hadn’t eaten very much of anything in days, so you did look a bit— malnourished. A sudden wave of guilt erupted inside of him, his brows dipping downward and his eyes drooping. “I want you to go and take a shower, Y/N. There will be some clothes on the bed for you.” He drew his eyes away from you and slipped his hand along your shoulder and below to the small of your back to guide you to the restroom. You covered yourself with your arms and knitted your brows together, unhappy with the switch of things.

But a shower does sound quite nice..

“Is there anything specific that you’d like for breakfast?” It was so weird how his change of tone went from frustrated and horny to soft and caring. “No, anything sounds good.” You shortly replied, setting yourself beside the tub. He only nodded, letting his hand drift away from you, removing the nice warmth.

Warm showers are underrated.

You didn’t take quite a long one, you only washed up and rinsed off, but the detachable shower head did look tempting...

After you had dried off and wrapped a towel around your head and a separate one around your body, there was a neatly folded pile of clothes laid on the bed as he had mentioned before. It wasn’t stringy lingerie or a skimpy night gown, a simple shirt and sweatpants— something you’ve honestly missed wearing.

It was rejuvenating to feel fabric against your legs, and a hell of a lot warmer than before. Maybe you’d be a bit more comfortable with the freezing temperatures.You pulled the loose shirt over your head just as a knock erupted from the bedroom door. “Come in?” You questionably answer, readjusting the towel above your head.

He didn’t have manners before..

“Do you like homemade pizza?” He questioned through the door, making a low grumble roar from your stomach and a smile widen your lips. “Yes, I do.” Now you were grinning ear-to-ear as he entered the room, a large plate that had three heaping slices of the most beautiful pizza you’ve ever laid eyes on. The tall glass of ice water in his other hand sent you over the edge too. “God, that looks delicious.” You basically drool as he hands it to you, an amused teeth-showing grin upon his lips as well. You take the plate and set yourself on the bed, practically inhaling all the water and attacking the first piece.

“Holler if you want some more when you’re done.” He somewhat chuckles as he goes to leave the room. “Did you fix your little problem?” You ask just before he grabs the knob, raising a brow and your lips forming into a funny smirk. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are, then no.” He simply answers, shutting the door as he leaves.

"My mom's gonna kill me Grayson!" I whisper-scream with wide eyes, slipping out of my window and onto the rooftop. "Don't be such a wimp, it'll be fun." The little boy motions as I fully escape out of the house, grabbing his hand for guidance.

to be continued...

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workofthediesel · 4 years ago

Text

The Long Way Home - Chpt 2

Read also on AO3!

(Chpt 1) (Chpt 3)

Summary: Waiting and worrying, that's all it came down to. With CB in the hospital, so sick and injured, that was all they could do. Just wait and worry, wait and worry.

Word Count: 8,830

Everything was fuzzy.

CB felt like he was floating, detached from his body, lost in a never-ending darkness. He couldn’t feel anything. It was a relief for some reason, but his tired mind couldn’t quite think of why.

Around him was nothing. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel. It was like all of his senses were disconnected. Under normal circumstances, this would be a cause for concern, but his emotions were as numb as the rest of him.

All of his memories were locked in a haze. When he tried to think of what had caused him to end up in this situation, he came up with nothing. He tried to think back on his life, but all he could recall were vague impressions, names and faces he knew he knew but which held no meaning to him now other than familiarity. He held onto them as best he could. They may not have been much, but right now, they were all he had.

Thinking was tiresome. Everything was tiresome. Exhaustion weighed him down in all senses—mentally, physically, emotionally, he was just tired.

Awareness came and went, but he never felt the benefits of a good rest. Whatever state he fell into when he wasn’t quite awake, he doubted it could be called sleep.

With nothing else to do, he drifted. He let the thoughts flit through his head as they came, each one too vague and ephemeral for him to hang on to. When he had the energy, he wondered. He wondered about who he was, where he was. He wondered about what was happening. He wondered about the things he knew and the things he didn’t, and if he’d ever be able to get them to make sense. And when all his idle wondering wore him out, he let himself fade back into the darkness, wrapped safely and securely in oblivion.

***

Poppa dropped everything the moment he got Rocky 3’s call. He must have, in order to have gotten there so quickly. Not that Dustin had expected anything different. Poppa thought of all of the freight as his children, and Dustin knew he’d been worried about CB too, so of course he’d come rushing over the second he heard what had happened.

He hadn’t come alone. Dustin had just enough time to lock eyes with Poppa as he stepped into the waiting room before Rocky 1 and 2 pushed their way in around him, making a beeline for their brother. Flat-Top wasn’t far behind, clearly trying to keep up his typical cool act but not quite managing to keep the concern off his face.

To Dustin’s surprise, that wasn’t where the line ended. Greaseball came in pulling a distraught-looking Dinah, shortly followed by Electra with Joule, Wrench, and Krupp. In a perfect world in Dustin’s mind, the whole yard would have come racing over, and the missing faces—especially Rusty’s—caused his heart to clench. Still, it was better than he had expected, and he tried to take some comfort in that.

“Have you heard anything?” Poppa asked in lieu of a greeting, sitting down next to Dustin.

Dustin shook his head. “Not yet.” Even though it had been hours. Even though the nurses had promised to let him know the moment they got any updates. Even though the cast of faces in the waiting room had changed at least three times, each group reassured that their loved one was alright as they were ushered through the doors to where the patients’ rooms were.

Poppa pursed his lips, his worry clear on his face. “Well, they say that no news is good news,” he said, trying to take a positive view of the situation. Whether that was for Dustin’s sake or his own, Dustin didn’t know.

Dustin found himself looking at Wrench, wanting her to reassure him that Poppa was right. He didn’t know if she’d ever worked in an emergency repair center like this before, but she was the one with the most medical knowledge out of any of them.

Wrench seemed to know what he was asking her for without him having to say it. “It’s true,” she said. “To an extent, at least. Of course, the best news would have been to hear he was fit for release hours ago, but for now, no news means that they’re still working on him, which means he’s still… alive.” She tripped over the last word, perhaps realizing too late that it wasn’t quite the reassurance Dustin wanted to hear.

It hurt just a little to have Wrench confirm that the doctors’ silence wasn’t as good of a sign as Poppa was trying to make it out to be, but Dustin nodded, trying to put on a brave face. Still alive was still good news. A wry smile twisted at his lips. How fast had his life changed that his definition of “good” was just “alive?”

But alive meant hope, he reminded himself. As long as CB was alive, there was a possibility that he could get better. He had to have faith that the staff here knew what they were doing, that they would be able to fix CB and send him home.

The silence stretched on a moment too long before Dustin found his voice. “Good,” he said weakly. “That’s good. It’s… something, at least.”

“Dustin, what happened?” Dinah broke in. Dustin wasn’t sure when she had moved from the doorway, but suddenly she was kneeling in front of him, gripping his leg with desperation. “Poppa told us that he got hurt, but he didn’t say anything about why or how or…”

“Rocky was a little sparing with the details,” was all Poppa said in his defense.

“That’s because we don’t have any details,” Rocky 3 said. “I told you: we found him passed out in the forest in the middle of nowhere. That’s it. That’s all we know.”

“There was a yard,” Dustin added, “a little further back on the track. They said that he’d been staying with them for a bit, but he wasn’t looking good when he left a few days ago.”

“Days?” Greaseball echoed incredulously. “He was on his own for days?”

“When he already wasn’t well?” Dinah tacked on.

Dustin nodded. The mental image of CB, sick and hurt and all alone, lost in the middle of nowhere so very far from home, stabbed at his heart. He’d been trying not to think about it, but despite his best efforts, he hadn’t managed to shake it yet.

“But he’ll be okay, though. Right?” Joule asked, turning to Wrench like she held the answer. There was a pleading tone in her voice, begging for a little reassurance.

Wrench sighed. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

The weight of the situation pressed down oppressively on their group. For the first time, it really hit Dustin that CB might not be okay; that he might have suffered injuries that could affect him for the rest of his life; that he might… he might actually…

He couldn’t even finish that thought.

“Where’s Rusty?” Dustin asked, mostly just to break the silence that had settled over them.

Poppa looked uncomfortable at that. He shifted in his chair for a few moments before carefully explaining, “He had to stay back at the yard. He’ll be taking charge of things until we get back.”

“Oh.”

“He wanted to come,” he added quickly. “Really. He felt awful that he couldn’t. But with me and Greaseball and Electra all leaving, and Pearl and Buffy and all them staying back, someone had to—”

“No, that makes sense,” Dustin cut him off. Because it did. Logically, he knew the whole yard couldn’t shut down just indefinitely just because one of its members got hurt, and that meant that there had to be at least one engine there to run it. Still, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, just a little, that Rusty hadn’t said to hell with it all to be there for CB.

Poppa was watching him carefully, like he could sense that Dustin was upset at Rusty’s absence. “Once things calm down a little,” he said, “we’ll work out a way for him to come visit.”

“We could take turns,” Greaseball offered. “One of us stays back at the yard to run things, the rest can come here.” He glanced at Electra, seeing if he would be on board with that plan.

Electra frowned. It sounded to Dustin like the sort of plan they’d only need if CB was going to be in the repair center’s care for a long time—weeks, at least. Clearly, Electra thought so, too. “Do you really think he’s going to be here that long?”

Greaseball could only shrug helplessly.

There were a few tense seconds of silence before Wrench asked, “How long has it been?”

“They admitted him about—” Rocky 3 cut himself off with a quiet swear, glancing at the clock for the first time since they’d come in, “seven hours ago.”

In that moment, Dustin could have cursed as well. Had it really been that long?

A quick look at the clock—the first time for him, too—confirmed that, yes, it truly had been seven hours since they’d brought CB in. The time had passed in a blur, yet it also felt like an eternity.

“But you found him before that?” Krupp asked.

Rocky 3 nodded. “It took us about an hour to get him here,” he said grimly. “No telling how long he was there before we found him.”

Dustin swallowed thickly. “Days, probably,” he said, his voice edging on bitter. He didn’t want to be mad at Crank and Gear—they seemed like they were doing their best, and it was a hard situation all around—but he couldn’t help it. They were the last ones to have seen CB. They let him leave and didn’t have anyone go after him to make sure he was alright. They didn’t get him the help he needed.

A sour seed of guilt dropped in Dustin’s stomach thinking about how the same could probably be said of him.

No one spoke after that. Silence settled over them, thick and heavy, as they each retreated into their own thoughts. Their only comfort was the fact that at least they were together. Seconds, minutes, hours ticked by. At one point, Krupp left to go get coffee. He came back with a cup of tea for Dustin. Dustin accepted it with a small nod, enjoying the warmth radiating out of the cheap paper cup before it slowly grew cold. He didn’t drink it.

The sunrise was unspectacular, the sky lightening to a watery gray before a faint pink bled out from the horizon. Dustin watched it, his eyes itching from lack of sleep. Between the uncomfortable waiting-room chairs and the buzz of fear that had yet to abate, he’d found it impossible to drift off once during the night.

He wasn’t the only one. Although some of their group had managed to fall into at least a light sleep, Greaseball and Joule were fidgeting where they sat, and Wrench was up, pacing the room. Krupp was sitting up straight in his chair, still as a statue as he kept a stoic watch over the room. Poppa sat quietly in the middle of them all, wide awake but looking every bit as tired as Dustin felt.

The door at the other side of the room swung open. Dustin paid it very little mind. After the amount of technicians they had seen come in and out of the waiting room, delivering news to everyone but them, Dustin had all but given up hope that someone would come for them anytime soon.

Of course, that situation was going to change sooner or later. “Family for the Red Caboose?”

Poppa was on his feet in an instant. “That’s us,” he said, not waiting for those of them who were still up to shake the ones who had managed to dose off awake. “How is he?”

“He’s out of surgery,” the technician said carefully, and Dustin could tell there was information she was holding back. “We’ve moved him to an intensive care room for the moment, for observation.”

The technician was surrounded by a group of concerned faces well before she had finished talking. It must have been a fairly common scenario for her, because despite the impressive size of their group and some of its members, she didn’t seem phased at all.

“Can we see him?” Greaseball asked, pushing to the front of the group.

“Maybe in a little while. We need to get him settled before he’s ready for any visitors,” the technician said in a tone Dustin could tell was intentionally crafted to put people more at ease. “In the meantime, does he have a medical proxy I could talk to in more detail about his condition and treatment options?”

“That would be me,” Poppa said, to no one’s surprise. Poppa was the medical proxy for nearly everyone in the yard.

The technician nodded, gesturing for Poppa to follow her back down the hall she’d just come from. “We can talk in my office,” she said. “It’s a little more private there.”

“It doesn’t need to be private!” Dinah objected.

The technician opened her mouth to respond—Dustin suspected she’d been in a situation like this enough times that she had a go-to speech about doctor-patient confidentiality—but Poppa beat her to it. “Yes, it does,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Just let me hear what’s going on first. I’ll be back before long.” With that, he was gone, the door swinging quietly shut behind him.

“But…” Joule said, talking to no one in particular.

Wrench laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s confidential information, you know that,” she said gently.

Joule turned to her, her eyes pleading for answers Dustin was sure Wrench didn’t have. “He’ll tell us how he is, though, won’t he?”

“Of course he will,” Rocky 1 said. “There’s no way he’d keep up in the dark about this.”

“We just have to…” Rocky 3 trailed off with a sigh.

“Wait,” Rocky 2 finished for him.

Dustin swallowed down a sigh of his own. He’d been doing nothing but waiting—and worrying—since they brought CB in. But, he reminded himself, they knew CB was okay now. Or at least, okay enough. He could handle a few more minutes of waiting to hear the real details of how CB was doing. He didn’t have any other options.

The silence that settled over them was no less tense than before. Dustin’s mind was spinning wildly, imagining worse and worse possibilities for CB’s condition even as he tried to distract himself. Time passed indeterminately, but he was used to it by now.

Dustin’s head snapped up the moment the waiting room door swung open. It was exactly who Dustin had wanted to see, but the sight of him wasn’t as relieving as he had hoped. “Poppa…”

Poppa forced a wan smile. There was a tired, almost defeated slump in his shoulders, and it made Dustin’s stomach sink.

Greaseball stood up and ushered Poppa into the chair he’d been sitting in. Poppa nodded gratefully, if a bit absently. There was clearly a lot weighing down on his mind, which didn’t seem like a good sign. The group waited with bated breath for whatever Poppa had to tell them, but seconds ticked by and Poppa still didn’t speak.

“How is he?” Electra asked at last.

It took a moment for Poppa to choose his words, which only filled Dustin’s chest with dread. “Well, there’s still a lot about his condition that they don’t know yet,” he said in the same careful tone the technician had used when she first came to see them. “He’s only just out of surgery, so they need to wait a bit before they can do the rest of their tests and all that.”

He was talking around the truth, and everyone could tell. “But for now?” Dinah prompted.

There was another pause as Poppa thought over what to tell them. “It’s a little hard to say. He’s stable, but they want to keep a close eye on him for a while.”

It wasn’t the news Dustin wanted to hear, but it was better than what he was fearing. “Can we see him?”

“They said he should be ready for visitors right about now.” The group broke out into relieved smiles before Poppa continued, “One at a time. Family only.”

The stunned silence lasted only a moment before Joule broke it. “What?”

“We are family,” Dustin said, his voice as strong as it was pleading. “They’ll let us see him. They have to.”

The look on Poppa’s face said he wasn’t so sure about that. “It’s not quite so simple,” he said. “If he were awake, then sure. He’d be able to tell the staff that he knew us and we knew him and that it’d be okay for us to be there. But with him out…” He sighed. “We can tell the staff how we know him, but in the end, it’s their job to make sure he’s safe, and that includes being careful about who they let into his room.”

“But…” Flat-Top said, his voice smaller than Dustin had ever heard it.

“We’ll just have to wait and see what the staff will allow,” Poppa said, “but at the moment, there’s no guarantee that any of you will be able to go in.”

That wasn’t what any of them wanted to hear. Dustin bit his lip, trying to hold in a disappointed frown. He didn’t want to go against what the hospital staff said—he figured they’d know best how to handle the situation—but he couldn’t deny that he was hurt. After everything he’d been through that night, all the adrenaline and panic and waiting and fear, all he wanted was to be able to see CB, to know that he was safe and sound. After a moment, though, his thoughts caught on to Poppa’s word choice; he’d said “you,” not “us.”

He wasn’t the only one to have noticed it. “But you’d be able to?” Rocky 1 asked.

Poppa nodded. “I’m his medical proxy,” he said. “That’s close enough for them to consider family. It’s a legal thing.”

As much as it hurt Dustin to hear that he might not be able to be there for CB, it was a relief to know that Poppa, at least, could. Although, knowing that did make him wonder, “So, why aren’t you with him now?”

“I wanted to check in with you all, first,” Poppa said.

There was a brief second in which no one spoke before Electra nodded definitively. “Alright, you’ve checked in with us,” he said. “You can go to CB now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go,” Dustin told him softly. “Go see him.”

“What about the rest of you?” Poppa asked. He clearly wanted to be off with CB, but his paternal instincts left him concerned about the rest of the group as well.

“We’ll be alright,” Dustin said.

“CB’s the one who really needs you right now,” Rocky 3 added. “We can handle a bit more waiting.”

“And maybe, when it’s a more reasonable hour,” Wrench said, “we can see if they won’t let us in.”

Poppa stayed where he was a moment more before getting back to his feet. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll be in there for as long as they’ll let me. Maybe I’ll come out and check in again around lunch?”

“We’ll meet you here,” Krupp promised, his tone so sure no one could have argued with it if they had wanted to.

Poppa nodded his agreement, making his way back to the door and pushing it open. He cast one final glance back at the group before he disappeared down the hall.

“What now?” Dinah asked quietly after a minute of silence.

“We passed a hotel on our way over,” Electra said. “I’d like to get some rest on an actual bed, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Wrench agreed. She cast a critical eye over the bedraggled group in front of her, slipping into what Dustin had come to think of as her doctor-mode. “We’ve had a long night.”

“But CB—” Joule protested weakly, swaying tiredly on her feet.

“Poppa will call us if there’s any news,” Wrench consoled, taking Joule by the arm. “But for now, there’s only one visitor allowed in at a time. There’s no point in all of us staying here now that we know he’s stable.”

Joule whined, but she didn’t try to resist as Wrench led her over to Electra. She positioned her behind him, and she somewhat reluctantly reached out to hitch on to Electra’s couplers. Krupp hitched on behind her, and Wrench brought up the rear.

Joule cast one last glance at the doors leading back to the patient areas of the repair center, a small pout coming to her lips.

Of course, the other electrics didn’t miss her hesitation. “We’ll come back later,” Electra said.

“After we get some sleep,” Wrench tacked on pointedly.

Joule stared at the door for another moment before finally looking away. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Electra took his line a few steps towards the exit before he paused, turning to look back at the rest of the group. “Aren’t you going to come, too?”

Greaseball looked surprised. “I didn’t think we were invited.”

“Of course you are,” Electra said earnestly. It warmed Dustin’s heart ever so slightly; despite all the anger and bitterness left over from the outcome of the finals, everyone still cared about each other. If the situation they were in had been anything less worrying, Dustin would have smiled.

“We could all use some rest,” Wrench said. It was impossible to miss the weariness in her voice.

Electra nodded in agreement. “I’ll get rooms for everyone.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Dinah said as she and Greaseball stood up.

In the most humble response Dustin had seen from him yet, Electra shook his head. “It’s the least I could do.”

Dinah managed to give him a small, grateful smile as she took hold of Greaseball’s couplers. Greaseball brought them a few paces towards the door before he paused, turning back to the freight, still huddled together on the waiting room chairs.

“Come on,” he said, motioning for them to join them with a tip of his head, “I’ll pull you over, too.”

“Really?” Rocky 1 said, sounding as surprised as Greaseball had moments ago. He didn’t leave his seat until Greaseball nodded.

“Thanks,” Rocky 2 said, hitching on behind Dinah. His brothers were quick to follow.

Greaseball brought his line a few steps towards the door, following Electra out. Flat-Top rolled behind them, trying to catch up so he could hitch on, before he stopped. Dustin had made no move to get up from his chair, and Flat-Top noticed. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I, um… I think I’m going to wait here a little longer. In case…” In case of what, Dustin wasn’t really sure. But after everything he’d been through in the past few days, even just the thought of leaving felt wrong. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

For a few seconds, Flat-Top just stared at him. Then he heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Alright. Fine,” he said, collapsing into the chair next to Dustin. “I already messed up my back trying to sleep in one of these stupid chairs, might as well wreck it entirely.”

It must have been a testament to how tired Dustin was that it took him a minute to understand what Flat-Top wasn’t quite saying. “You’re staying?”

“’Course I’m staying,” Flat-Top grumbled. “No way I’m going to make you sit here on your own for who knows how long.”

That brought the slightest hint of a smile to Dustin’s face. As much of a tough-guy act as Flat-Top tried to put on, he was a softie at heart.

The silence that settled between them wasn’t quite comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearably tense. Though Poppa’s information had brought a small amount of relief, Dustin knew they were both still worried about CB. For him, at least, it was all he could think about.

How long they sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, Dustin didn’t know. The waiting room hadn’t lost its bizarre timeless quality, and it felt like they’d been waiting both forever and for no time at all. As strange as it seemed, Dustin was starting to get used to the feeling.

Flat-Top was the one to eventually break the silence. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than Dustin had even thought he was capable of. He sounded sad and scared, like a child looking to their parents to tell them that everything would be fine. “He’s going to be okay, right Dustin?”

Dustin wanted to reassure him. He wanted to reassure both of them. He wanted to say and fully believe that things would turn out alright; that the technicians would be able to fix CB up easily, that he would recover in no time, that they could all go home before they knew it. But he couldn’t lie, not to Flat-Top. A tired, resigned sigh slipped past his lips. “I don’t know.”

***

The first thing to come back to him was sound. It was muffled, distorted, like it was coming to him from underwater, but it was there.

The noises washed over him in waves. They went from soft to loud in cycles, rhythmic and soothing. Sometimes CB thought he could distinguish the sounds from each other; other times they blurred together, turning into a low hum that wrapped around him like a blanket. It didn’t really matter whether or not he could tell the difference, though—either way, they were meaningless.

Meaningless or not, CB couldn’t deny that there was some level of comfort attached to the sounds. After spending so long floating in the dark, at last, here was something he could connect to. He wasn’t completely lost.

A small part of him was curious. What were the noises? Where were they coming from? Where was he? All in all, however, he had too little energy to really dedicate any mind to the questions. The most he could manage was to just think of them before the exhaustion took over.

He wanted to reach out, to see if there was something there he could hang on to. But he couldn’t make his hand respond. His whole body was tired, his limbs too heavy to feel like his.

So, he clung to the noises instead. He listened as hard as he could, dedicating as much focus to them as he could spare. It quickly sapped what little energy he had, but to him, it was worth it.

Right now, those sounds were all he had.

***

Standing in front of the door to CB’s room, Dustin felt almost nervous. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t have to be, but it didn’t do much good. This was the first time he’d get to see CB since they brought him in to the repair center, and Dustin was scared about what he would find.

After coming to the end of an onslaught of tests, Poppa had briefly explained to the group what the technicians told him about CB’s condition. It was clear he hadn’t wanted to scare them with the whole truth, but he wasn’t going to lie to them, either. Words like “internal bleeding” and “infection” and “possible brain damage” stuck in Dustin’s mind like barbed wire.

“I know no one wants to hear it,” Poppa had said, “but we have to be realistic. Right now, the technicians aren’t sure if he’s going to be okay.”

Dustin’s heart still clenched at the memory. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t! CB was family, he had to be okay.

But of course, the world didn’t work like that. It didn’t matter who CB was, or how important he was to Dustin. He would get better or he wouldn’t, and no amount of denial on Dustin’s part would change that.

Still, he was desperate to keep hold of some hope, no matter how small. If anyone was going to be able to help CB, it would be the technicians in a repair center. He just had to trust them.

For now, though, there was nothing he could do for CB other than be there for him. Filled with trepidation, he poked his head into CB’s room.

Poppa had warned him of what to expect going into CB’s room, but the actual sight of it in front of him had Dustin stumbling back a step. He was surrounded by a sea of machines, connected to him by more tubes and wires than Dustin could keep track of. His leg was encased in a bulky cast and suspended in a sling over the bed. Swathes of bandages covered his body: his arms, his legs, his stomach, his head. A breathing tube jutted past his lips, anchored in place with a strap wrapped around his jaw that, for a few seconds, was all Dustin could look at. A second tube snaked down his nose, though Dustin had no clue what it was for. With Poppa’s permission, they had removed CB’s shoulder boxes and chest cabin for better access to his injuries. It was no secret that CB was one of the smallest cars in the yard, but seeing him now, stripped bare, he looked impossibly frail.

It was too much. It was everything he’d feared and then some. For a moment, Dustin wanted to turn tail and run. But CB was all alone in there, and Dustin couldn’t leave him like that. He took a deep—albeit shaky—breath to steady himself and forced himself to take the first step into the room.

The quiet whir of his wheels over the tile sounded almost out of place amongst the beeps and whooshes of artificial breath pouring out from the machines around CB’s bed. The sound of them—so cold, so mechanical—made Dustin’s heart clench painfully. He tried his best to ignore them as he sat down gingerly in the chair next to CB.

Words stuck in his throat for a moment. He swallowed thickly, reaching out to take CB’s hand. He did so gently, carefully, mindful of the IVs plugged into his arm and the back of his hand.

“Hey, CB,” he said softly. There wasn’t any real reason he needed to be quiet, but there was a hushed atmosphere that hung around the room that he didn’t feel comfortable breaking. “I’m sure Poppa already told you, but you’re in a repair center. They say you got real sick after you left, but it’s okay. We’re taking care of you now.”

He paused, waiting for some sort of response but, of course, none came. CB was unconscious, after all. Poppa had told him that the technicians suspected he was comatose, though it was still a bit too early for them to officially make the call.

That fact hurt too much to think about, and Dustin tried to put it out of his mind.

Rather than dwell on such a painful thought, Dustin chose to think more on the positives, as few as they were. “Everyone came to see you. Well, um… almost everyone. We couldn’t shut the yard down entirely on such short notice, so a few of the coaches and components had to stay behind to take care of things.” It was a conscious choice on his part not to mention that Rusty had stayed behind as well. “But Dinah’s here,” he went on, “and Greaseball and Electra, and all the freight. Joule came, too; I know you two were getting on pretty well during the championship. It’s just me in here right now; the technicians will only let us visit one at a time. They said only immediate family can come in, and… Well, we told them we all were, but I’m not sure how far they’re willing to humor us with that. It didn’t look like they were going to let Electra in.”

Dustin could only imagine what CB would have to say about that if he were awake. With any luck, he’d find the thought of Electra even trying to pass himself off as CB’s brother funny, not to mention the offense on Electra’s face when the hospital staff voiced their doubts.

“Everyone else is off getting some sleep right now. Electra got a whole bunch of hotel rooms for everyone so we can all stay close by while you’re here. We’re pretty far from the yard right now. Hours away, in fact. Too far for even a day trip.” It still hurt to think about just how far CB had managed to make it before they went looking at him. “Maybe when you’re a little better, we can get you moved home.”

He imagined CB would like that. After all those days he’d spent on his own, Dustin would expect it to be a relief for him to be able to come back home. He knew it would be a relief for himself. “We’ll have to see what the technicians have to say, of course. Right now, they… they think it’s going to be a while before you really get better. But it’ll be alright; we’ll be here until you do.”

There was a brief moment when Dustin ran out of words. There was still plenty he wanted to say, but it was all stuck in his throat. A lot of thoughts had weighed heavily on his mind those past few days—guilty sentiments he couldn’t voice because he knew whoever heard them would try to talk him out of it, and that wasn’t what he wanted. But now, in the privacy of CB’s room, he needed to say them.

It took a bit of force to push past the knot in his throat, but eventually he managed, his voice soft and shaky. “I’m sorry, CB. I can’t help but feel like all of this is my fault somehow. I knew you’d gotten hurt in that crash, but I didn’t try to help you for a week. I left you all alone, even though I knew you needed someone there with you. I’m… I’m so sorry. Maybe if I’d checked on you sooner, you wouldn’t have gotten so sick. Or if I’d been a better friend—better family to you, you wouldn’t have thought you had to leave in the first place. And now you’re here, so sick and so hurt… I could have stopped this.

“After everything that’s happened to you these past few days, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to ever make it up to you. I’m trying my best now—I’ll be here every second of every day until you’re back up on your feet—but it all seems like too little, too late.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he went on sadly, “but you do have to get better. Promise me that, okay? Promise me you’ll get better.”

CB, of course, wasn’t in a state to promise anything. He laid on the bed, dead quiet, completely unresponsive. The only motion in his whole body was the subtle rise and fall of his chest with the artificial breath.

“I know it’s going to be hard, but you’re a fighter.” Dustin gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You can make it through this, I know you can. All you have to do is try. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

The small, optimistic part of Dustin was hoping for some sort of confirmation from CB—a tiny squeeze of his hand, a small uptick in his heart rate, anything. Dustin waited and waited, but nothing came.

Swallowing back his disappointment, he gave CB’s hand another squeeze. “It’s okay. Take your time. We’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

***

At some point, CB became aware of light.

He couldn’t see; his world was still a never-ending void. But somewhere, somehow, he knew there was light. It lit up the blackness. Not by much, but enough for him to notice.

He never saw anything besides the light. No shapes or shadows, no colors, nothing. But the light was there and that was enough for now, because at least it was something. Something more to prove to him that he wasn’t totally lost, forever adrift in a sea of nothingness. Something else was out there. He only had to find his way back to it.

It was hard. He was still so tired. It was a fight for every moment of semi-awareness. With each passing… second? Minute? It was hard to tell—it was getting more and more tempting to just give up, to let it all stop, to float away forever into the void that surrounded him. On more than one occasion, he nearly did. But something stopped him every time. A thought, as small as it was, stuck in the back of his head. It tickled the edges of his memories, pulled at the core of his heart.

Something was out there for him.

He didn’t know what it was; everything in his head was still so fuzzy. But deep inside, he knew that whatever it was, it was important. He couldn’t walk away from it.

So he hung on. He clung to the light, to the sounds he could hear, to the vague memories that floated lazily in and out of his head.

It was exhausting. Some days, it was all he could do to just barely cling on to awareness. But he tried. Even when it drained him to the core and left him too tired to think, he hung on.

Whatever was out there for him, he wasn’t giving up on it.

***

It was a huge effort on their part, with lots of begging and pushing and calling in favors, but in the end, they managed to get CB back to the yard. Between Greaseball and Electra—both relatively famous in their respective racing circuits—and the urgency of the situation, they had just enough sway to get what they needed done. Wrench was able to get whatever specialized equipment she had back at her old yard shipped over night, and what she needed but didn’t have, Electra managed to get for her. Whether he was able to talk his way into borrowing it from somewhere or if he bought it outright, Dustin didn’t know, but to him, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they brought CB home.

Wrench’s work room had been transformed by the time they got back. What had been a very bare-bones clinic—an uncomfortably hard examination table, a few shelves stocked with a mixture of the supplies she had brought with her and the yard’s own first-aid kits, and not much else—now looked almost identical to the intensive care room CB had just been in. Machines and monitors surrounded a hospital bed, and the walls and floors had been scrubbed clean. A faint smell of bleach still lingered in the air. There was a desk set up in the corner, presumably for Wrench to work from while still keeping an eye on CB.

There were also, to Dustin’s pleasure, a few touches that made the room feel a little homier: a vase of flowers on the table, filled with cuttings from Ashley’s garden; a cozy-looking crocheted blanket on the bed, with vibrant yellows and oranges that seemed almost out of place in the neutral room; a collection of photographs strewn about, capturing the happier times before the championship; and a few recliners, one of which Dustin recognized from Poppa’s living room, dragged in so that visitors could have somewhere comfortable to sit.

It was this last addition that Dustin was most grateful for. Now that Wrench was in charge of looking after CB instead of the impersonal hospital staff, there were no longer any restrictions on who could visit him. His room was open at all hours to anyone who wanted to come, as long as they were careful not to interfere with CB’s treatment or Wrench’s work.

Dustin took as much advantage of this as he could, coming in to sit with CB whenever he had a minute to spare. And, he was pleased to note, he wasn’t the only one. Pearl, Flat-Top, Volta, Ashley, Purse—everyone in the yard found their way into CB’s room at one point or another. It seemed to be the unspoken agreement that whoever had the day free would spend it watching over CB.

There were, of course, those who spent more time in CB’s room than others. Rusty, for one, could be found there more often than not. He seemed to be trying to make up for all the time he missed staying back at the yard while CB was in the repair center. Predictably, Poppa and Dinah were frequent visitors as well.

Dustin was in CB’s room every second he possibly could be. Before work, after work, during lunch, on his days off; any time he had a moment to spare, he would spend it sitting with CB.

Poppa noticed this, of course, and he didn’t seem too pleased about it. Not a day went by where Poppa wasn’t shooing Dustin out of the room for one reason or another, whether it was to go home and get some proper sleep, to go and find himself something to eat, to send him back to work on the days he tried to sneak off unnoticed, or even just to take a minute to get some fresh air. Dustin tried not to be annoyed by it. He knew Poppa was just trying to make sure he took care of himself, and he couldn’t fault him for that.

Still, he had to admit, he did get a small sense of vindictive pleasure from being able to turn those words right back on Poppa. “You should go home and get some rest,” he said, slipping into CB’s room.

Poppa looked up, momentarily startled. CB’s room was usually—expectedly—quiet, so it wasn’t hard to sneak up on someone when coming in. He relaxed when he saw it was just Dustin. “Hey,” he said, greeting him with a small smile. “You finished with work for the day?”

“Yeah, just got off the track.” It was a small lie—technically, he wasn’t due to finish for another ten minutes, but he knew no one would miss him in the meantime.

“Good day?”

“Good enough,” Dustin said, settling down in the chair beside Poppa’s. “Flat-Top’s been complaining again, but what else is new?”

Poppa chuckled lightly. “Sounds about right.”

They went quiet for a moment before Dustin said, “I’m serious about you heading home, though. You’ve been here all morning.”

Poppa didn’t reply at first. For a second, Dustin was worried he might try to argue before he said, “I know. It would do me some good to at least get up and stretch my legs, but…” He sighed. “I always hate leaving him. It just feels wrong, you know? I think you get that better than anybody.”

Dustin nodded. It was a feeling he was familiar with. It didn’t matter who was there to sit with CB in his place, it always felt like he was abandoning the caboose when he needed him. They’d already left CB all on his own once and look what had happened. There was no way he was going to do it a second time.

Even though he knew exactly how Poppa felt, Dustin was determined to show him the same tough love the steamer gave him. “You still need to take time to take care of yourself,” he said, another one of Poppa’s favorite phrases when he was sending Dustin out of CB’s room.

Poppa chuckled softly, shaking his head. The origin of the phrase wasn’t lost on him. “You been waiting long to use that one?”

“Couple of days, maybe,” Dustin said, allowing himself a small smile.

It took a few more seconds before Poppa finally gave in. “Alright, alright,” he said with a sigh, pulling himself up from the chair, “point taken. I’ll head home for the night. Do you want me to bring you anything for dinner later?”

“No, that’s alright.” Truthfully, Dustin had lost his appetite the night they found CB, and it hadn’t come back yet. He hadn’t mentioned that to anyone—he knew they would find it worrisome, and he didn’t want to take any of their attention away from CB—but the look Poppa was giving him said that he had picked up on it anyway.

Poppa kept that look up for another few moments. Luckily for Dustin, though, he didn’t comment on it. “I’ll bring you something over, anyway. In case you change your mind.”

Dustin forced a tight smile, not wanting to seem ungrateful. It was a nice offer, and he couldn’t fault Poppa for it. “Thanks,” he said. Despite his best effort, he wasn’t quite able to make it sound genuine.

With nothing else to say, Poppa nodded. He hung in the doorway for another moment, reluctant to leave, but Dustin’s stern look eventually convinced him to head out.

Dustin watched Poppa go for a moment, then he settled down into his chair and made himself comfortable. He was planning on being here for a while—he’d spend the night if no one came and tried to send him out. He was once again struck with a wave of gratitude for whoever had thought to fill CB’s room with the plush recliners. He would have sat with CB for hours in any chair they had—he would have spent whole nights standing or slept on the floor if he had to—so he couldn’t have asked for better than the cozy chairs they had dragged in. Almost everything about CB’s room was upsetting to some degree, so he’d take what comforts he could get.

The hushed atmosphere of the room was a little more oppressive than peaceful. Normally, Dustin was a fan of quietness, but here it carried with it a tension Dustin hoped he would never have to experience again. One look at CB motionless on the bed and all he could hear would be the beeping of the heart monitor, which he wanted so desperately to be reassuring but truthfully was anything but.

Dustin wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence. The sound of the door opening was actually a welcome distraction. “I should’ve guessed you’d be here,” Rusty’s voice drifted in.

Dustin sat bolt upright, twisting around to look at Rusty over the back of the armchair. He wasn’t particularly startled to see Rusty there—he came in almost as frequently as Dustin did. However, his choice of words… “I’m not late for something, am I?” He’d been so focused on CB recently, it wouldn’t have surprised him if something else had slipped his mind as a consequence.

“No, you’re alright,” Rusty reassured him, rolling into the room. “I just saw Poppa on my way over and thought the room might have been empty.”

“Not likely,” Dustin said, allowing the slightest hint of humor to color his words. CB hadn’t been left alone for more than a few minutes since they’d brought him home, a fact that Dustin was deeply grateful for.

“I guess not,” Rusty said with a small smile. With how worried Dustin knew he was about CB, he was sure everyone coming together to make sure CB always had someone there with him was something Rusty appreciated, too. “Buffy sent over soup,” he went on, holding up a large thermos. “I think she’s worried about us not eating.”

It was a kind gesture, although a small part of Dustin wanted to tell her to save her worry for CB. He was the one who really needed it. “I’ll have to remember to thank her later,” he said instead.

Rusty nodded at that, sitting down in the chair next to Dustin. He set the thermos down on the small table between them. Dustin didn’t move to touch it. Neither, he noted, did Rusty.

“Have you been here long?” Rusty asked after a few moments of silence.

Dustin shook his head. “Maybe about fifteen minutes. Poppa only left when I came in.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Rusty’s lips. “Did Poppa leave,” he asked knowingly, “or did you kick him out?”

Dustin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Rusty knew him far too well. “I wouldn’t necessarily say I kicked him out…”

“But?” Rusty prompted, sensing there was more.

“But,” Dustin said, choosing his words carefully, “I may have… mentioned… that it might be a good idea for him to take a break. That’s all.”

Rusty shook his head, his smile growing.

“He’d been here all morning,” Dustin defended himself. “You know how he’s always telling us to go home and take care of ourselves after we’ve been here for a while? Well, I just think the same should apply to him.”

“He’s just worried.”

“I mean, we all are.”

“Yeah,” Rusty said softly, leaning forward and taking hold of CB’s hand.

Silence settled between them after that. It was slightly more comfortable sitting there with someone than on his own. Even as they each settled into their own thoughts, just knowing someone else was there with him made Dustin feel better.

They could have sat like thar for the rest of the evening, but Dustin had something on his mind. He’d been thinking about it for a while, but he was never sure if it was something he should actually bring up. He fidgeted in his seat, debating whether or not to say it now. One more look at CB, motionless on the bed, made his mind up for him. “Rusty?”

Rusty looked at him, a silent invitation to continue.

Dustin squirmed a moment more before tentatively asking, “You’ve talked to the Starlight Express, haven’t you?”

The first thing to cross Rusty’s face was shock. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to get any words out. “I don’t… I never… How did you…?”

“I was there,” Dustin cut him off softly. “I remember. I thought I was dreaming, but I wasn’t, was I? You really talked to them.”

Rusty took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself for his confession. “Yes.”

Dustin took a deep breath, too, bracing himself for what he knew was going to be a big favor to ask. “Could you do it again?”

Rusty paused for a moment, thinking it through, before he sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I did it, or if it was even something I did. As far as I remember, it just sort of… happened.”

Dustin nodded sadly. The idea was a bit of a long shot, so he supposed he shouldn’t be too disappointed. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely certain what he wanted to ask the Starlight Express for—if they would heal CB if he asked, if it would be worth it to try, if he should ask if CB would be okay or if he was already with them.

Rusty followed his gaze, the pieces clicking together. “I can still try,” he said quickly, rushing to offer his help now that he knew what it was about.

That was all that Dustin could have asked for, and he couldn’t hold back a small smile. “Would you?”

“Of course,” he promised. “I’ll try tonight. I don’t want to make any promises, but…”

“Thank you, Rusty,” Dustin cut him off gently.

Rusty nodded mutely. He was quiet for a moment before he said, “I’m kind of surprised I didn’t think to try before.”

“I’m just grateful that you’re trying now.”

Rusty nodded again, and they fell back into silence. The scene wasn’t quite peaceful, not with all the clinical beeps and hisses and whooshes pouring out from all the machines CB was hooked up to, but it was probably as close as it could get. Rusty remained where he was—leaning forward, both of his hands wrapped tenderly around CB’s—for hours until he had to go home for the night. Once he left, Dustin took his spot, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of CB’s hand in a way he hoped was comforting for CB, if he could feel it.

The night dragged on slowly until, in the early hours of the morning, Dustin finally fell asleep, his head resting on CB’s bed, hands still entangled.

#starlight express #stex #stex fanfic #cb the red caboose #dustin the big hopper #poppa mccoy #rusty the steam engine #coma #cw coma #cw hospital #see ao3 for the full list of tags #cb #rusty

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legobiwan · 4 years ago

Text

The muse came to me. Who was I to say no?

Dooku at the Opera: A Lineage Tale (A Comedy in 3 Acts)

Featuring: Yan Dooku, Rael Averross, Qui-gon Jinn, and Obi-wan Kenobi

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

“Here, take this.”

A dented, silver flask was thrust into Qui-gon’s inner pocket, the weight of the object throwing his deep brown dress robe off-kilter.

“Rael!” Qui-gon hissed, trying to fish the object from his voluminous, velvet-trimmed outwear. By the Force, he hated wearing this thing. “I’m not - “ The fabric tangled, wrapping around Qui-gon’s arm - once, twice - somehow pinning his limb immobile against his side.

Rael Averross tossed his head back and laughed for a good minute, leaving a scowling Qui-gon half-bound, trapped in the finest Jedi robes the Temple had to offer. Chuckling, he stepped forward to help Qui-gon unfurl from his self-made prison. “Just trust me, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

“I'm not sneaking Rodian liquor into the Coruscant Opera with Master Dooku at my side. He’ll flay me alive if catches me!” Qui-gon shuddered, testing out his freed arm.

“I’m not asking you to drink it,” Rael cocked his head with a small sigh. “That stuff would strip the paint off the side of a Grellan nightclub.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Qui-gon snapped, rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to know how Rael had such intimate knowledge of the infamous Grellan nightclubs.

“All I’m saying, kid,” Rael’s voice softened as he wrapped an arm around Qui-gon’s bony shoulders, leading him to the full-length mirror standing in the corner of his and Dooku’s shared quarters. “Is that Master Dooku has probably forgotten about about this particular escape tactic.” Rael put a finger to his chin, glancing to the ceiling in thought. “It was twelve years ago.”

Qui-gon frowned, his own confused expression staring back at him in the polished glass. The boy - man - seemed a stranger, wrapped in a long, velvet-trimmed robe, his tunics a darker shade of his customary beige, pressed, absent the usual dark soil spots and off-green streaks that so infuriated his Master. He looked...well, respectable.

He was fifteen now, had been Master Dooku’s Padawan for just over three years. He had also had the dubious honor of keeping Rael Averross’s occasional company for almost as long.

“Rael, it’s the opera, not the Citadel. Why do I need an escape tactic?” Qui-gon gestured with the flask in his hand, liquid sloshing against its container. “And if I’m not to drink this, then what in Nine Corellian Hells am I supposed to do with it?”

“I don’t know, kid, you’re a Jedi. You’ll figure it out,” Rael shrugged, pushing wavy black hair from his face. He cocked a crooked smile in Qui-gon’s direction, ruffling his short, spiky hair.

“Make your exit after the first intermission, but not too close to the start of the second act. Did that one too many times and Dooku’s cottoned on to it.” Rael began to push Qui-gon towards the door, ignoring the boy’s stammered protests. “Now get outta here before he gets suspicious.”

Qui-gon gaped from the other side of the threshold. “Rael!”

But the door only closed with a final whoosh, leaving a very confused Qui-gon Jinn in an empty Temple corridor, battered container of Rodian gin in hand.

What in the galaxy was that all about? It was the opera. Not just opera, but a Serennian opera. Truth be told, Qui-gon wasn’t much one for the more prestigious arts, not like his Master was, at least. But he had learned to keep those opinions secret after spending two weeks dusting and reorganizing Master Dooku’s extensive holoart book collection, a consequence of expressing his opinion at an exhibition of Tuerrilian landscapes that all the paintings “looked like the same smashball field with the goalposts removed.”

But this would be different, this wouldn’t be a bunch of boring green lawns perched atop various boring curved, silver architectures. This was a story about Serenno. Yes, with large-bodied, multiple-lipped Trellian singers in strange, pointed hats and all, but it was a way to get to know his Master better, learn something new about him, about his planet.

Behind Qui-gon, the door to Dooku’s quarters opened halfway. “Oh, and kid?” Rael called down the hall. “Say hi to Brigindia the Breadthful and Hagvor the Hu - “ Rael clicked his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks flushing. “Anyway, tell ’em Rael Averross sends his regards if you happen to leave by the stage door exit,” he finished, sly smile spreading across his face.

----

Knock knock knock.

Rael looked up from his holobook, tapping the bookmark button as he glanced at his chrono.

Not bad, kid, he thought, giving his arms a long stretch before leaving the comfort of Dooku’s plush arm chair. He stopped in the pantry before answering the door, pouring two cups of cold, Nemishian tea.

“So you got out,” Rael said as greeting. “Record time, too.”

Qui-gon pushed past the older Jedi, a flurry of wrinkled fabric and frustration, the faint odor of burnt Ceylla wood drifting from his robes. He made a series of aborted half-circles, like a jittery, indecisive Lothcat before Rael took pity on him and led him to the sofa, pushing a glass of the Nemishian tea into his hand.

The young Jedi sat, unmoving, for a good minute, eyes wide as he seemed to replay every last event of the past three hours in excruciating detail. Rael took his own glass, downing half of it in one go, giving a satisfied smack of his lips. Dooku always did have better provisions than the Jedi commissary, a way of enticing wayward Padawans out of mealtime trouble and sometimes extracting an extra hour’s work out of them.

“It was terrible, Rael,” Qui-gon finally spoke, eyes still wide, voice somewhat haunted.

Rael laughed, slapping his thigh as he sat back in Dooku’s armchair, extending his legs long, his ankles crossed. “C’mon. It couldn’t have been that bad,” Rael teased. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Five of them, actually,” Qui-gon murmured, taking a sip of his tea. The drink seemed to restore some of the color to his pallid face. “Each with a thirty-minute aria.”

“Ah, The Fall of the House of Carellic.” Rael grinned. “A classic.”

Qui-gon’s eyes widened, as he nearly dropped his glass. “You mean he’s seen this one before?”

“It cycles in every seven years or so,” Rael answered. “I imagine at this point Master Dooku has it memorized.”

“But then why,” Qui-gon's voice rose, “did he give me a three-hour running commentary of everything wrong with its portrayal of Serennian culture if he knows it so well?”

“That, my young friend,” Rael drawled, eyes tightening with barely restrained laughter. “Is all part of the experience. Now,” he leaned forward, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “How’d you escape?”

The corner of Qui-gon’s mouth quirked upwards. “Spilled your paint stripper on the mezzanine-level bar. Was a real shame everyone knows the Senator from Gorrusk likes to smoke indoors, although I think both his outfit and pride will recover from the mishap."

“And being the dutiful Padawan you are,” Rael continued, grinning, “of course you volunteered to accompany the poor Senator to the on-site healer, ensuring your Master would not have his night interrupted.” Rael tutted. “It’s just a damned shame there was so much paperwork to fill out.”

Qui-gon raised his glass in Rael’s direction. “Takes forever, really.”

Rael nodded, raising his own glass in salute. “Not too shabby, kid.”

The two Jedi sat in contented silence for a few moments, the adrenaline rush of Qui-gon’s frantic escape finally waning, the younger man’s head slowly tilting downwards, his eyes closing. A minute later, Rael heard a soft snore emanate from the pile of tunics sprawled on the couch.

Chuckling, Rael stood, collecting both glasses, pulling Qui-gon’s long legs fully onto the couch, boots and all, covering him with a soft blanket plucked from a nearby closet. Dooku could snipe at Rael later for letting his Padawan desecrate his furniture in such a manner. He wouldn’t be back for at least another five hours anyway.

Qui-gon was going to be one of the good ones, Rael thought. Still needed to loosen up a little bit - Dooku had him scared to rights most of the time, but he’d learn soon enough that his old Master was just as much bark as bite - at least, most of the time.

Fifteen years and Dooku has never gotten anyone to sit through the entirety of one of those Force-forsaken circuses. Rael had never been sure why he insisted on the charade every year - Dooku had to know full well his Padawans were sneaking off. Hell, even the other Jedi Masters always seemed to find a polite excuse to avoid Dooku’s yearly invitations to the opera, Master Windu going as far as claiming he needed to “shave his head and was busy that night and all the other nights the act was in town.”

Force help all of us the day he finds some kid willing to sit through that schlop. They’d probably end up being more terrifying than Dooku himself.

----

“Master,” Obi-wan Kenobi gave a series of gentle raps on the door to Qui-gon’s room.

Qui-gon peered his eyes open, squinting at the bright morning sun shining through the small gap in his curtains. Morning already?

“Obi-wan, come in,” Qui-gon groaned, voice still full of sleep. “How was the opera?” he asked, suddenly remembering where his Padawan had been last night, shuttled away in a familiar velvet-trimmed robe by his old Master.

Qui-gon felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped his Padawan would come to him after making his escape, would share in his escapades with Qui-gon over a glass of Nemishian tea, that they would laugh like two younglings as he and Rael had every year until Qui-gon’s Knighting.

But like most other parts of their partnership, this, too, Obi-wan seemed to approach with cool, measured detachment.

Obi-wan brightened at the question, however, pulling out a crisp holoprogram from his robes. “It was delightful, Master! Master Dooku and I had a splendid time. He even treated me to a Drynarian spiced wine during the second intermission.”

Qui-gon gaped at his student, certain he had heard him incorrectly. His eyes flitted to the cover of the holoprogram - The Fall of the House of Carellic - emblazoned in regal Aurebesh and Serennian script.

“You - you stayed?”

Obi-wan furrowed his brow. “Of course, Master. Granted, the opera as a whole was a bit bloated, the singers past their prime - Brigindia the Breadthful’s range didn’t quite match up to her alias and Hagvor the Hu - “ Obi-wan hissed, his cheeks flushing red. “Well, Master Dooku said that wasn’t really his name, that it was a ‘improper moniker bestowed upon a great artist for base reasons.’ I didn’t ask after it, but he was alright, as tenors go.”

“But Padawan, the letter-opener I gave you - “ Qui-gon stammered. Not that he had expected Obi-wan to stab anybody with it in an attempt to escape the opera, far from it. But he had thought - Qui-gon let out a breath - hell, he didn’t know - maybe rip a curtain or sabotage some official’s clothing?

“Oh yes, that was quite useful Master, thank you,” Obi-wan beamed. “The packaging on those meiloorun pastries can rather difficult.”

Qui-gon nodded dumbly at his Padawan.

“Oh, before I forget, Master, this is for you, from Master Dooku.” Obi-wan held out a flimsi, folded in half, Qui-gon’s name printed in familiar, elegant script. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower and a short nap before the day begins.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Padawan,” Qui-gon said, distracted, not bothering to close the door as Obi-wan hopped out of the room.

With no small degree of trepidation, Qui-gon opened the note.

“Qui-gon -

I would like to thank you for allowing me to borrow your charge for the evening. It is rare to encounter a young mind with such intellect, curiosity, and, shall I say, an inherent sense of taste and propriety. I find myself wanting to repeat the experience, if Obi-wan (and you) should be open to it.

As for your letter-opener, I am disappointed that you would arm your student with such an unimaginative weapon. I would say that next year you should confer with Rael in the matter, but I do believe that will not be necessary, given Obi-wan’s sincere enthusiasm throughout the evening. Senator Rembran of Gorrusk sends his regards to you, as he does every year. Ever since the incident at the bar, he has been convinced of the Jedi’s importance in the Republic, so I must thank you for the unintended repercussion of your clumsy sabotage those years ago.

Brigindia and Hagvor also send their regards to Rael. I do hope you didn’t share the mortifying origins of Hagvor’s colorful moniker with your student. He has yet to encounter Rael Averross in person, and I would prefer he and Obi-wan to meet without any prurient preconceptions, as Rael is a good, if infuriating man. How he remains my former pupil is still one of the great mysteries of the galaxy.

Finally, I would like to extend an invitation for you to join me (and Obi-wan, again, if it is to be allowed) for next year’s production of The Sentinel’s Progress, which has not been staged in over a millenia. I am told it is a most inaccurate depiction of our ancient Serennian culture and I would be glad to share my thoughts with you and your Padawan. Of course, if you feel the need to come armed with a letter-opener, you need but slip the blade through Madame Tursky’s silver gown-train. Rumor has it she is most protective of her honor and can be seen hovering near the mezzanine-level bar like a drunken hawkbat at most intermissions.

Until then, Padawan. And may the Force be with you.

---Best Regards,

Yan Dooku”

#writing #yan dooku #count dooku #rael averross #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #heeheeeheeeheeehee #THE LINEAGE

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mshermia · 4 years ago

Text

Occupational Hazard - Webpril 04: Stuck Under A Building

summary: Peter helps out Doctor Strange. As they chase down Karl Mordo, Peter gets lost in one of the portal.

Or: Tony is furious with Strange for losing his kid and furious with his kid for getting lost.

read on AO3

###

Magic sucked.

Peter was 100% clear on that now. No matter how cool it had seemed before, he'd been wrong. Now, he knew better. Magic sucked, especially when the other side could do magic too.

"Shit," he panted, dodging an explosion on his side, bricks catapulted in his very direction before he spun around, shooting a couple of webs up to the ceiling. "Doctor Wizard? A little help?" he called out a bit louder.

Orange sparks opened up a portal in the very direction he was swinging, transporting him right to a spot behind the evil wizard dude. With as much momentum as Peter could generate, he shot towards the guy, feet first, and hit him squarely between the shoulders.

With a grunt, Voldemort crashed to the ground.

Not that that was his name, but Peter had no idea what the dude was called. His nose looked too normal for it to actually be Voldemort, plus Voldemort was a fictional character, but then, until not too recently, Peter had thought that magic wasn't real either and now look at him. He was practically jumping from one continent to the next as their chase of the evil wizard dude took them through portal after portal.

"On your right," Strange called out.

Just in time, Peter did a backflip, effectively avoiding a magical rope that had been heading for him. His feet had barely touched the ground when he fired another series of webs to catch the evil bastard. Just like before, he aimed for the portal that Strange had opened up for him to jump through, but unlike last time, he didn't end up jumping the main dude. What had looked like the dude suddenly shifted, Peter's senses screaming at him.

In a last-minute effort, Peter balled himself up, shooting a string of webs to his left trying to pull himself away from the blast.

Tony's feet landed on the sidewalk with a heavy clunk, splitting the stone plate underneath him in two, but he didn't give a fuck. He didn't give a fuck about the people who had pulled out their cell phones and filmed his landing either. With fast long strides, Tony pushed himself to hurry up the stairs of 177A Bleeker Street.

"Subtle as always," Strange mumbled under his breath as Tony pushed the doors open to his study.

"If you know what's good for you, you better not try to fuck with me right now, Strange," Tony growled. "Where the fuck is my Spider-kid?"

Strange was staring at a glowing ball of orange energy, hovering in the middle of the room. It was turning quickly, his eyes darting back and forth across the surface. "I told you. That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Tony's hands were pressed flat against his thighs to keep them from shaking. "I tweaked every system to find the suit but it's dead. None of the trackers, nothing works. I didn't even get a beacon."

"Yeah, I thought as much," Strange mumbled. "The spell acts like an electromagnetic pulse, resulting in a complete failure of any electronic appliances in its immediate vicinity."

"I know what an EPM is, jackass," Tony hissed. "What I want to know is where Peter is!"

"Well, if you'd let me work—"

"Just give me an estimate where I should be looking," Tony interjected.

Strange shook his head. "I can't. He can be anywhere."

Tony's stomach turned. He had to hold onto the table in front of him, feeling a little faint. "A-anywhere? How do you not know where he is?!"

"I can't control Mordo, Stark. That was the whole point of the mission."

With three long steps, Tony was next Strange. His hands tangled in his wizard tunic, Tony pushed him to the side, away from the spinning ball, shaking him. "And you think you could pull my kid in there?"

Before Tony knew what was happening, he was halfway across the room. Strange's rug was wrapped around his middle, pinning him against the wall.

"If you want me to find him, you'll have to let me work."

His tone was calm, lecturing. It made Tony's blood boil.

"Just..." Strange blew out a sigh. "Whatever you can think of to pin down Peter's location or... I guess any tech he has on him. Anything to narrow it down on your end. Do that."

As the rug let go of him, Tony's anger was quickly fading, replaced by dread. "What... what happened out there?"

"Mordo tricked him. He pulled open a portal that Peter must have thought was mine." Strange shook his head. "Peter was too fast. I couldn't stop him in time before the portal closed and the spell Mordo threw after him, it would have decimated anything in close proximity."

A cold chill went down Tony's back, threatening to bring him to his knees. "He's still... he's still here, right," Tony breathed.

Strange pursed his lips. "I think so but we need to find him, Tony," he pressed out. "We need to find him fast."

His mind was racing, hands shaking, as Tony sat on the thick carpet of the Sanctum floor. He had detached the control unit from his prosthetic arm and placed it in front of him on the ground. With the trackers of the suit silent, there was only one thing that might lead them to the kid. The signature vibration of the nanites Peter's suit was made of.

In 2024, Tony was not the only one who worked with nanobots, not anymore, but it was the only way he might be able to limit the scope of the search. Reading out their radiation, then eliminating everything that couldn't be Peter.

"872 locations detected, boss."

"Alright," Tony mumbled. "Let's start with the obvious ones."

He was quick to cross off every one of his own and SI's locations and research facilities. Then followed competing tech companies, car manufacturers, larger government facilities for technology and space, universities, and military facilities.

"Alright, girl, let's..." Tony he heart stuttered in his chest. There were still so many locations left. There was no way to eliminate enough of them. No way to know which one of them was Peter. There had to be something he could do to distinguish the amount of— Tony froze. He was such an idiot. "FRIDAY, calculate the exact signal strength that the amount of nanites stored in Peter's housing units would emanate. Reckon in buffered transmission."

His heart was racing as he watched the numbers roll on the projection until FRIDAY's process reached 100%, rendering every highlighted location on the map red, with four exception.

"Strange!"

He was by Tony's side before Tony had even made it back to his feet. "Brazil, Mexico, China, and—" Strange hesitated, gritting his teeth. "Fucking asshole," he mumbled. "Be ready, Stark. There'll be debris."

With a circular gesture of his hand, Strange opened a portal right in the middle of the room. Just in time, Tony had engaged the nanites on his arm as pieces of brick and concrete came crumbling through the portal onto the carpet.

"Shit," Tony cursed.

Quickly, he directed nanites to catch the falling bricks, then stabilize the pile that threatened to crumble even further into itself. His own hands were shaking, trying to hold up piece of wall.

"Pete," Tony yelled. "Peter!"

Strange's hands were gesturing wildly, swiping away the remnants of the fallen building, replacing them with orange glowing barriers on both sides and above him. Finally, among all the grey powder of crushed cement and stone, Tony saw something flash that resembled the blue and red of Peter's suit.

"He's right there!" Tony wanted to scream it but his voice broke.

Peter didn't move at all. He was hardly distinguishable from his surroundings. His face was covered in a thick coat of grey, dark lines running from his eyes along his face down to his neck, smudge trails of tears or... Tony pressed his lips shut, to keep the sob to himself. Tears of blood.

With practiced precision, Strange opened another portal. It moved with his hands, covering Peter entirely till he was simply gone.

The breath in Tony's throat threatened to choke him. "What... Where—"

Just as quickly, Strange had moved back into the room, debris, and bricks collapsing behind him. The portal hadn't even closed, allowing dust and pieces of the building to crumble further onto the carpet when Strange opened a second portal.

"The Compound," he said calmly. "Go on."

There was something warm on his face. Warm light. It didn't quite feel like home, but it felt like comfort. His mind felt a bit fuzzy but that was okay. Things around him were soft and cushy. Safe.

"Come on, sleepyhead. Come on back to me."

A chill went down his back, tingling along his arms into the very tip of his fingers. He knew that voice. That voice was home.

"Petey-pie, I waited long enough. I can see your face twitching."

He did? Peter tried to think, tried to remember what was going on, but then cringed at the throbbing pain in his skull. It was like someone had spent a night tap-dancing on his forehead. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, a little at first, then a bit more. The very first thing he saw was Tony, sitting in a chair just next to his bed.

"Impeccable timing as always, kid." He leaned closer, his warm hand squeezing Peter's lower arm. "Pepper just made May get something to eat. She will be pissed."

Peter frowned. A blinding pain pierced his head at the motion. His hand shot up, pressing against his head, hoping that might stop the throbbing pain.

"You... you told May?" That wasn't their deal. The deal was not to worry May unless absolutely necessary.

"As opposed to what, hide you for a week?" Tony took a hold of his wrist and dragged it away from his forehead. Instead, he placed his own fingers on Peter's temple and rubbed soft circles into his skin.

Peter groaned at the sensation of the pain dispersing before he remembered what Tony had just said.

"A week?" He tried to get some weight on his arms, to sit up but everything was a little numb and there was something on his chest weighing him down.

"Hey, take it easy..." Tony's hand moved to his shoulder, pushing him back into the bed. "Here, drink some of that."

He angled a straw at Peter's mouth, but as his lips closed around it, Peter flinched back, then prodded the spot with his tongue. There was a large split on his lower lip.

"Yeah, you got banged up pretty good out there. Careful now." Tony moved the water a little closer, mindful to angle the straw away from Peter's injury. "There you go..."

Tony's own lips were pressed flat, non of the signature sparkle in his eyes.

"I've been here a week?"

"No..." Tony's features softened just slightly, one hand moving Peter's hair out of his face so he could place a hand on his forehead. "You'll need some time to heal though."

Peter grunted at that.

"How's the pain?"

The question was friendly enough but he knew Tony. He had probably been sitting there, thinking of what to ask Peter for a long time. Likely all night and most of the day.

"How much pain meds did they already give me?"

One of Tony's eyebrows twitched. "I asked you first."

They had given him a lot then. Possibly more than Tony left was good for him. Maybe that's why he had slept so long.

"I'm good," Peter mumbled. "Maybe... a 5..."

Tony's mouth twitched before he pressed his lips together a little firmer.

"Or maybe... maybe a 4?" Peter added hastily.

Irritation non-withstanding, the lines on Tony's face went a little softer. "I didn't ask you what you think I want to hear, buddy."

"I'm good. I'm fine," Peter mumbled again.

To prove his point, he tried to shuffle up the bed a bit once again, tried to sit up, but something was wearing him down. This time, he had the presence of mind to check and found a curled-up Morgan Stark lying on top of his covers. Like a reflex, his hand shot towards her, the brown hair silky soft under his fingers.

"She assured May that she's going to make sure you're fine while she gets something to eat."

"How long... how long was I out for?"

"Well, it's almost 5 pm now, so that'd be about 15 hours."

Slowly, he took his eyes off Morgan and turned them on Tony instead. "What... what happened?"

The crease between Tony's eyebrows deepened. "How much do you remember?"

In thought, Peter bit his lip, then flinched as the cut right in the middle of it split open once again, filling with mouth with the taste of iron.

"Jeezes, kid... Can you please just—" Tony pressed his lips shut with a huff, his tone far from relaxed. "Here, take this."

He pressed a tissue into Peter's hand, eyes never straying from his face. Peter didn't bother to hide his discomfort this time, dabbing at his lip, trying to remember.

"Strange need help and..." Memories flash in front of his eyes. Portals. The evil wizard. Then everything went black. "Strange... he okay?"

Tony's eyes hardened pressing his hand and tissue back against his Peter's. "Alright, I want you to forget that you ever even heard that name."

"Come on..." he mumbled.

"I mean it. This... all this magical bullshit. This is not for you. Not your pay grade. Next time the wizard comes knocking, you punch him in the face."

"Tony... don't be like that." Peter's other hand was still in Morgan's hair, absentmindedly, coming through it, as he stared into space, wrecking his mind for what had gone wrong. "We were chasing this evil dude and we did the thing we did when... you know..." Peter swallowed hard. "With the Guardians. So I was jumping him, trying to pin the evil wizard guy and web him up and but then..." Peter stopped himself just in time before he bit down on his lip again. "Something happened... I don't..."

"Well, the evil dude can do portals too."

"Oh..." Peter blinked a few times, not sure what to make of it.

"So you jumped through one of his instead of Strange's, then he sent some kind of detonation spell after you, closed the portal, and left you there."

"Oh," Peter said again.

Tony crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, oh..."

"Where was I?"

"Harlem."

Peter gave his head a tiny shake. "Harlem?"

"Yeah. Harlem." Tony's fingers drummed against the bed frame. "Apparently, the asshole sent you to a basement of a block the city has started demolishing this week."

"Oh..." A sudden snort rolled off his tongue, much to Tony's clear annoyance. "Sorry, it's just... Mount Morris Park, right? The Historic District? I was there, last week at a protest with MJ. Should have made more signs maybe?"

The expression on Tony's face looked pained, obviously not appreciating the irony. "Well, I guess You-Know-Who knew about it too."

Peter's lips stretched into a smile, that made his lip sting. "It's fine, Tony. You can say his name."

With a shake of his head, Tony rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Either way, the spell he sent after you blasted out enough of the interior that it knocked you out, it seems, and buried you there. We're lucky we found you when we did." Tony rubbed a hand across his face. "Buried under a building. Again. Only you..."

"Come on, like you never had a building drop on you. It's more of an occupational hazard..." Peter cringed at the mix of horror and despair on his face. "I'm sorry, Tony..."

Those were the magic words and they worked, 87,5% of the time, this time included.

With a sigh, Tony bent forward and pressed a kiss into his hair. "You better save those 'sorry's for your aunt, buddy."

Peter groaned. "Maybe we could just pretend I died or something?"

Tony's eyes gleamed dangerously.

"Or..." Peter quickly added, cheeks heating up. He tried to think but with no luck.

"If you want to be all grown up and jump into trouble like that, you'll have to be grown up enough to stick it out at home, Pete." Tony ruffled his hair, eyes flickering up to the ceiling. "FRI, let May know he's up and talking."

Silently resigning to his fate, Peter handed over the blood soak tissue for Tony to bin, bracing himself for the agony of pampering, kisses, and scolding he would be in for for the foreseeable future.

#webpril 2021 day 4 #hurt/comfort #peter parker fic #tony stark lives #tony stark fanfiction #irondad #IRON DAD AND SPIDER SON #iron dad fic #webpril #webpril 2021 #stephen strange #doctor strange #stuck under a building

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