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sjhhemmings · 4 months

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Evermore pt.2

OC!CassidyVoight x Mouse!Endgame, OC!CassidyVoight x Jay Halstead, OC!CassidyVoight x Connor Rhodes

a/n: you guys, this was a tough chapter. please pay attention to the warnings below. this took me like 12 hours to write. off and on of course, but I can’t forget the 45 minutes of sitting on my couch and staring at the wall trying to figure out how I wanted this to go 😅. don’t hate me. i love u guys, please comment and reblog and all that jazz. SUPPORT UR WRITERS ❤️

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️: swearing, alcohol, drugs, angst, talk and descriptions of su!c!dal thoughts and intentions. Also depression. Hard explicit topics in this one, Cassie is in a rough spot 😢 If you ever need any help please feel free to message me, my inbox is always open. PLEASE do not read if this will trigger you in any way shape or form. This is simply bringing awareness for characters that go through this. This is fiction. Stay safe everyone. You are loved.

word count: 4.1 k

wattpad: sjhhoran

Still beating herself up and constantly second guessing her own decision, Cassie decided getting some fresh air on the apparatus would make her feel better. Or at least she thought it would. The second she step foot outside she saw her father and Matt Casey outside the station having a chat. Just her luck. Taking a deep breath before heading over to them, she’s in over her head.

“C’mon, do you have time for a drink? We can have this conversation somewhere more private.” She heard her father tell the truck lieutenant. Hell no.

“No, he doesn’t. We’re still on shift.” She said walking up to the pair bringing both of their attention’s directly to her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared her father in the eye. He could never handle when someone told him no.

“Cassie stay out of this. I’ll deal with you later, right now I need to talk to our friend Casey here.” Her father said shifting his attention back to Matt.

“Whatever you need to say to him, you can say with me present.” She quickly responded locking eye contact with her dad again.

“No, you lost that right when you turned around and stabbed both me and your brother in the back. You know he could get serious jail time for this, and you seem like you couldn’t be happier than to put your brother behind bars.” He snaps pointing a finger at his daughter.

“I told the truth! It is not my fault that Justin has 4 other DUI’s and this one is the one that will bump his charges up to a felony. It was his mistake and he needs to take responsibility!” Cassie snaps right back making Matt feel a little awkward to be in their family drama.

“I have a plan! I will be riding Justin’s ass until he cleans up his act. If he goes to prison you know what could happen to him for being a cop’s son, my son! Since you like to play the roles reversed card, I would do the same exact thing for you! Cassie, you need to change that report and get out of this while you can.” Voight says taking a step closer to his daughter leaving only 2 feet between them.

“Or what?” Cassie challenges now taking a step towards Voight almost closing the already small gap between them.

“You gonna kick me out of the family? Leave it to Justin to clean up both of your guys’ messes when you’re not looking? You can’t count on him and you know it, if I’m gone, you don’t even know how much shit you would be in right now. I’m the one that takes care of the both of you.” Cassie threatens making Voight scratch his jaw.

“Keep it up. See what happens.”

“Fine! If i’m gone, who’s going to be the one to truly parent and be there for Justin? Because we know it’s not going to be you!” Cassie yells almost immediately regretting her words.

Ever since their mother died, Voight buried himself in work. So the only reason Justin knows right from wrong, and how to do his own laundry, and how to shave his own face for christ sake, is because of Cassie. The only thing Voight has done was get Justin out of legal trouble when Cassie wasn’t around. Like when she was in college or the police academy.

Cassie’s words pierced Voight. Cassie was almost a spitting image of her mother and to hear these words coming out of her mouth pained him. More than he’d like to admit. But as always, he couldn’t let her win.

“Yes. You are out of the family. No more coming over for Sunday dinner, no more calling me when you need advice, and especially no more contact between you and Erin. You want out? Fine you’re out.” Voight says like he truly doesn’t care taking a step back.

“Casey. Change the report. I’m not asking.” He says finally pointing at Casey and walking away.

What has Cassie done? This is the last thing she wanted.

Cassie didn’t even notice her whole body trembling, or the fact her legs grew weak under her. Collapsing to her knees and gut wrenching sobs escaping her mouth Cassie messed up.

“This isn’t what I wanted!” Cassie sobs into her hands.

Immediately crouching to her side Matt was trying to help. Not exactly knowing what to do, he looked back at the firehouse and to his surprise he saw Boden and Gabby coming to help. Turning back to Cassie he muttered a few ‘It’s gonna be alright.’ and ‘You’re okay.’s but it wasn’t much help to her hyperventilating.

As the three of them helped Cassie to the ambulance she opted for sitting there and breathing in oxygen rather than going inside and showcasing how vulnerable she was.

Still shaking she saw Matt and Boden whispering to each other by the garage door, and Gabby was standing next to her not saying anything.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Cassie says making Gabby look at her tear stained face.

“What’s that?” Gabby says turning a little to fully face Cassidy.

“That i’m an idiot. That I shouldn’t be this torn up about being kicked out of my family because they’re bad people.” Cassie says wiping a few stray tears.

“Yes. and no. It sucks that your father’s a dirty cop, but I can tell you if this was me and Antonio I would probably be just as broken up or worse. Family is family. No matter what.” Gabby says now sitting next to Cassie.

“I know. But they’re bad people. At least that’s what everyone says. I promise he wasn’t that bad. Not before my mom died at least. After that he distanced himself from me, to the point sometimes I’d forget he was my own father. He’d always choose Justin over me. Even if he hated me he would continue putting impossible expectations on me yet letting Justin go do whatever he wanted. I tried to help out. I tried to be there for them when she died, but I was grieving too. I can’t help but feel it’s my fault that Justin is a screw up. Like I let everyone down because he kept making mistakes.” Cassie says crying again. Gabby wrapped her arm around Cassie lightly shushing her and rubbing her shoulder.

“Do you have any other siblings?” Gabby asked hoping maybe it would help.

“Yeah. My big sister Erin. She’s 5 years older than me though, she was already moved out when my mom passed. She tried to come back and help when she could, but she needed to live her life. Keep being on track to do big things. I couldn’t drag her back in with all of my grief. So we would see each other for Sunday dinners and everything would be fine.” Cassie says chuckling sarcastically at how everything was not fine.

“What if you reach out to her?” Gabby tried to say but Cassie sat up and shook her head.

“That was one of the things my father said I couldn’t do since being out of the family. No contact with Erin. I mean I get it, Justin probably hates me, my father does, but the last tie I have to anyone was Erin. So not having her means i’m truly on the outs.” Cassie pauses after letting some of this stuff sink in. Sharply inhaling she sits up and looks at Gabby who seems a little mortified.

“Hey. Sorry for dumping all my family drama on you, can we keep it between us?” Cassie asks earning a nod from Gabby.

“Sure thing.” Gabby says before Cassie gets up to walk away.

Gabby walked over to Matt and Chief Boden who seem like they’re in a heated debate for themselves.

“Matt, are you sure you don’t want to change anything? I mean, this man wasn’t afraid to kick his own daughter out of their family let alone what he would do to a random firefighter he could care less about.” Boden asked quickly glancing at Gabby as she walked up to the pair.

“I’m not changing anything. Cassie can do whatever she wants, but I’m not going to let that other family down.” Matt says not taking his eyes off Boden.

“Okay.” is all Wallace says before he walks away leaving Matt and Gabby alone.

“She seemed pretty tore up Matt. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Gabby asked placing a hand on Matt’s forearm.

“I got it, Gabby.” Is all he says before he too walks away, leaving her alone.

The next few weeks were pretty tough for Cassie especially in the firehouse. With her Father’s nonstop harassment to Casey, and radio silence in all aspects from her family, she was starting to feel hopeless.

The firehouse of course never blamed her for this situation or what’s happening to Casey. But to say they didn’t feel a little resentment towards her would be an understatement. The conversations that would quickly come to an end when she would walk into the firehouse, the glances and stares, the whispers. They were all getting to her.

Finally, the week of her father’s trial it was one of the many times Cassie was having her post-shift breakdown in her car. If she never reported Justin, if she kept her head down, she would still be in her family. She would still be able to talk to her father, and she would still be able to get through the day without thoughts about wanting to end her life. Her father is going to prison soon for trying to set Casey up to be injured or murdered or whatever he was trying to do, and this was her fault.

Cassie can’t live with herself. Not after this, she went too far. She doesn’t deserve to live, not in her terms anyway.

Once Cassie made it back to her apartment she slept. It doesn’t matter if it’s 8:30 a.m. and she just got off shift, she’s going to sleep away her pain, and then drink away her pain, then sleep again. It’s her very exciting routine she’s fallen into these last few weeks.

Waking up at 6 p.m. on the dot, Cassie sighed at her alarm clock. Just like every other day.

Getting up and walking to her kitchen, Cassie figured drinking the last half of her vodka bottle would be a nice way to spend the night. Except this time as she was grabbing the bottle down, the small safe she has on the other side of the cabinet caught her eye. The safe that held her emergency fund of cash, a few prized possessions she got from her dead mother, and her old side arm she had when she was a cop. Cassie has a Glock 19 just like the one Erin carries. When Cassie graduated the police academy, Erin took her out and bought it for Cassie. Said it was her graduation gift.

With Cassie’s eyes lingering on the safe a little longer than they would when she normally glanced at it, she finally shook her head and opened the bottle.

Taking a swift swig Cassie knew what she needed to do. Not what she wanted, she didn’t want this in the slightest. What she wanted was for everything to go back to normal, but they weren’t. So she needed to do this.

Cassie quickly went to her bedroom and started packing. Throwing away random trash, and sorting old clothes. Making her away around her apartment. A cleanse of some sort. Anything that didn’t hold sentimental value, was a piece of furniture, or important to her in anyway, Cassie threw away. She figured by doing this now it would save people the hassle of having to go through everything later.

After about 3 hours Cassie, drunk, figured the progress she made was a good stopping point. Putting on comfier clothes than she was wearing and cleaning herself up a little, she opened another bottle of liquor, grabbed a pen and paper, and began writing.

Writing notes to her family and colleagues at 51 first, those were short and sweet. To let them know the past 3 years they gave her were some of the best memories she’s ever made.

Then going back to when she was 18-20, a fresh patrolman on the streets of Chicago, she thanked her family at the 31st district. Of course the connections there weren’t as significant as her firehouse family, they still played a role in the person she was today.

Finally writing a note to Justin, apologizing for how she royally fucked up his life. She explained how she takes full responsibility for not being the best big sister he could ask for, but she loved him and wanted the best for him. She let him know that under different circumstances she would still be around to be his biggest supporter, but if he needed her she would always be in his heart.

Crying and taking a few more shots for courage, Cassie wiped her tears and continued what she needed to do. Just two more notes.

One to her father, apologizing for ruining their relationship and how she wished their story could have had a different ending. But ultimately letting him know that she couldn’t live with the weight of how much destruction she’s caused and it was for the best.

Then finally to Erin. Cassie stared at the blank paper, then the pile of notes she’s finished, then back at the paper. She couldn’t do this to Erin. She knew that. But it wasn’t to Erin, it was to the world and making it a better place because she would be gone. So ultimately she decided writing, ‘I know you don’t deserve this. But it’s for the better. I love you in more ways than I would ever be able to write on paper. We’ll meet again in another life. You always will be, and always have been my sister. Thank you, Erin.’

Sealing Erin’s envelope, she placed the pile of letters on her kitchen island.

After putting her shoes on, Cassie made her way over to the safe. Putting in the combination and staring at her killer. She paused.

A million thoughts racing through her head as she stared, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go through with it if she didn’t have something to put her at ease. God, she truly is turning into a horrible monster.

Grabbing a joint from her medicine cabinet, she lightly chuckled as she grabbed a lighter.

Cassie hasn’t really smoked since high school, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have anything on hand for emergency purposes. Okay maybe earlier when she said Voight hasn’t gotten her out of any legal trouble except for shoplifting in the 6th grade was a lie. But hey, smoking a joint at the park with a few friends is not the same as getting a DUI. Anyways, this would be considered an emergency, right?

Sitting on her couch she opened her window and lit the stick in her hand. Feeling the warm smoke coat her throat and lungs immediately, it already made her feel lighter. Calmer. This was the way to go out. Chuckling again, Cassie really would’ve never pictured herself at 23 getting cross faded in the comfort of her own home, alone. Taking another hit and letting the drug take its course, she put the joint out and shut her window. Walking herself back to the open safe, she grabbed the gun. Frowning at the reminder of what she needed to do, she really just wanted her mom.

Cassie had a plan. She’s technically had a plan since she was 13 and her mother died, she just never truly had a reason to do it. Cassie always had someone to stay for. Her siblings, her father. But those don’t apply anymore, so there is no reason for her to be alive.

Taking a deep breath and grabbing the handle of the door to her apartment, she stuck the gun in her coat pocket and opened the door. It’s now or never. This is the only out she’s giving herself. This is the time for second thoughts but the second she steps out that door, there’s no going back. Not under any circumstance.

Disappointedly, Cassie walked out the door. Maybe in some fictional story of her life someone would be at the door to stop her. Just a freak coincidence that she opened the door right as they were going to knock. But no, because this is not some story, this is her life. Her life that she was going to end. She knew it was the easy way out, for the people who give up just because they can’t tough it for a little while longer. It took Cassie awhile, but she came to terms with it. Just another reason for her to do it, she could never be strong enough to stay.

Once Cassie got in the elevator of her apartment building, instead of clicking the starred floor, she clicked the roof. Where else would she go to do it? Her car?

Arriving at the 23rd floor, Cassie stepped out onto the metal ground. Cold wind instantly whipping her face she lightly hissed at the pain. Just something else she deserved.

Walking over to the metal vent a few feet away from the elevator Cassie sat. She sat, took out her gun, and looked over the city. No better way to go out right?

Taking a deep breath, Cassie wasn’t scared anymore. The fear was long gone, all she felt was relief. Smiling at the sensation of being free, Cassie felt the tears rolling down her face. But she didn’t mind, these weren’t tears of sadness or anger, they were from happiness. They were from the relief that she didn’t have any obligations anymore. She didn’t have a will to live, and that was okay.

Finally picking up the gun and placing it to the side of her right temple, she shut her eyes and let the pure bliss soak in. She was free, and that was that.

Crying a little harder now, Cassie cocked the gun and placed her index finger on the trigger. Almost done, just one more step to go, and she’s finally free. Cassie thought about how people would react. How they would pretend to be so distraught over her death, probably wondering what pushed her over the edge. But nothing pushed her, maybe it was the thought of reuniting with her mother that got her to do it. Maybe it wasn’t one person’s fault, she just missed her mom was all. Well this is it, mommy she’s coming home.

“I love you, mom.” Were the words Cassie finally muttered as she felt the flood gates open for her tears. Slightly trembling she exhaled before-

“Wait!” She heard a male voice call out. Of fucking course. Almost wanting to roll her eyes at the sound, she took a sharp breath before readjusting the gun against her temple.

“Go away!” She shouted irritatedly, or at least thats what she thought she sounded like. All he probably heard was broken sobs begging for the opposite.

“Please, wait.” He said again slowly approaching her.

Making Cassie bite her bottom lip, she knew she couldn’t just blow her brains out in front of him. Then she would feel really guilty, or at least she thinks she would. Whatever the afterlife is and all.

“Just go away, please. I need to do this, and you’re interrupting.” She pleaded closing her sobbing eyes.

“My names Jay, Jay Halstead. What’s yours?” The man, Jay, asks, only making it worse.

“No, because if I tell you then it’s going to make me less likely to do it. You’re going to use my name as you try to talk me down and- God. You know what, it’s already ruined.” Cassie says annoyed with her broken voice as she uncocks the gun and tosses it on the ground to make a thud against the metal.

Quickly picking up the gun, Jay slides it down behind him and approaches Cassie again.

Finally looking up to truly see him, Cassie notices Jay’s lack of shirt. This very toned man in just sweats is out on the roof with a very broken girl.

Sitting next to her with no warning, Jay brings his knees to his chest, resting his elbows upon them.

Cassie notices his deliberate breathing and can’t help but join him. 5 seconds in through the nose, hold for 5 seconds, then exhale for 5 seconds. After a comfortable silence between the pair, Cassie finally speaks up.

“What are you doing out here?” She asks not taking her eyes off the city view.

“Sitting with you.” He says back nonchalantly.

“I know. But before you saw me, what were you coming out here for?” Cassie asks now looking over at the man.

“When I have a rough night, I come out here to breathe.” He says with a pause looking at Cassie then back at the city.

“I haven’t had a rough night in a while though. I just had a feeling I needed to come up here.” Jay admits making Cassie tear up again.

Looking back at the city Cassie lets a few tears fall before she quickly wipes her eyes and sniffles.

“I uh, I was a ranger, 3rd battalion, 75th regiment. Went on two tours in Afghanistan. I’ve seen a lot of guys going through what you are…” Jay trails off making Cassie scoff.

“And what? You thought you could be the hero again? Talk another person off the ledge and earn another notch on your belt? Need some good karma on your side?” Cassie accuses, trying to hurt him with every word. It’s what she does, when she feels the need to get defensive she uses everything she can to try and hurt the other person.

“No. You’re wrong.” He says just as defensively.

“Well I can assure you, the only reason I didn’t do it when you showed up is because I didn’t want to scar you. A random stranger doesn’t deserve to live with that.” She says a little softer but there’s still an edge to her voice.

“I appreciate that. But I want you to know, even if I did walk away when you told me to, I would still be living with it. Just because I wouldn’t have seen it happen, doesn’t mean I still wouldn’t know.” He says with the same defensive edge to his voice from before.

“Can I be honest with you Jay?” Cassie asks, broken as ever.

“Yes,”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to keep living, i’m at a loss for how to even attempt it at this point. This was supposed to be my way out, I wrote notes, I went the whole 9 yards. I had absolutely no intention of living past this night.” Pausing a little before she continues, “How do I keep going?”

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

“Please.” She says looking at him.

“I don’t know. There’s no one answer. Do you want to know what I do?”

“Anything would probably help at this point.” she admits biting her lip nervously.

“You take it one day at a time. Don’t think about a year from now, 6 months from now, Hell even 3 days from now. Think about sleeping this off, then waking up tomorrow. Just get through tomorrow.”

Sobbing again, all of the relief Cassie was able to feel was gone. She’s never felt so hopeless.

“Cassie.” She says quietly exhaling after the sobs.

“Hm?”

“My name, it’s Cassidy. But everyone calls me Cassie.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Cassie.” Jay says with a small smile.

“Can I ask you another question, Jay?”

“Shoot.”

“It’s freaking cold out here,” Cassie says with her teeth chattering, “How do you not have a shirt or coat on?” She asks chuckling a little.

“It helps me feel real. I’ll come out here in the winter and just sit for 5-10 minutes at a time. Reminds me that i’m human.” He says honestly and getting up.

Nodding along and mimicking his action of standing Cassie sticks her hands in her coat pockets.

“Mind if I keep this for awhile?” Jay asks picking up her gun and walking towards the elevator.

“Don’t lose it. It was a gift.” She says as she follows him.

“Hm. You a cop?” He asks as they both step in.

“Used to be.”

link to pt. 1

tagging: @rockyhayzkid

#one chicago #chicago fire #chicago fire oneshot #chicago med #chicago pd #evermore #cassie voight #hank voight #matt casey #jay halstead #fan fiction #series #chicago pd series #chicago pd fanfic #connor rhodes #greg mouse gerwitz

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supremewolfren · 2 years

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The Devil's Gift ~ Part Six

Summary: Poe Dameron is the honorary Prince of Hell - the leading choice for King of Hell. The only issue is the fact that he’s single. Which is where you, his succubus’ best friend, come in.

Pairing: Poe Dameron X Reader

Warnings: Assault, trauma, abuse, kidnapped, manipulation, mentions of killing, peak stressed Poe!

Word Count: 1432

AN: Early post for Part 6 because I'm posting 6 and 7 back to back. 7 will go live tomorrow. Thank you so much for all your support.

Feedback fuels writers! Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated! My ask box and inbox are always open as well!

Series Masterlist || Previous Part || Next Part

Your body felt like it was floating, the feeling of numbness becoming unnumb floated through you. There was a tingling sensation filling your senses as you started to tune into the buzzing sound that filled your head, angry pounding began to fill your head. Wrenching your eyes open, you blinked rapidly at the white and black spots that currently filled your vision. Slowly, you flexed your hands rapidly bringing that tingling sensation through your hands and arms. You tried to bring a hand up to your face and quickly realized that your hands were restrained, panic filled you. Blood running cold, you tried to calm down as you were finally able to assess the room you were in. How long was I out? Where the fuck am I? God I hope Rey made it. Your thoughts were rapid, finally slowing your breath and assessing your restraints. Both wrists were individually bound, as were both ankles, with a band across your waist. Groaning, you looked around the room, standard cell for the finalizer. Great, at least I’m on board with my horns.

The door slid open, revealing Kylo, and while you couldn’t deny that he looked pretty in his black suit, you were curious as to why he was wearing one. “Good, you’re awake. I was beginning to think I gave you too much.” he mused with a sly smile on his features. “I know, you’re angry. I did what I had to.” He glared as you scoffed at him, “you had accepted that idiots’ proposal, I couldn’t have you thinking you could leave me. I told you, you’re mine. That means you’re mine forever, whether you want to consummate it or not, you need me and you know it.”

“I would rather die,” your response came quickly, filled with venom both at his arrogance but mainly at his absolute audacity. “You made a choice for me and I made my choice. I only came back to tell you it was the last time.”

“Foolish” he mused, “and wrong. You brought that scavenger brat with you, and sent her through a different gate.”

You fought to keep your expression neutral as he revealed information that he shouldn’t have known, which didn’t necessarily surprise you given your current predicament. Calming your frayed nerves, you maintained your glare at him, but didn’t bother giving him a response.

His hand came to caress your face, as he stared down at you with an unmatched obsession, you found yourself feeling smaller than you ever had. Even after he took your horns you still had maintained your position as Leia’s right-hand with Poe at the lead. But this… This feeling that filled you had you feeling terrified and small. You currently had no idea where Rey was, but could still sense your horns on board which meant she was still here - hidden, prisoner, or dead. “We haven’t found her yet,” his voice was soft, as he continued staring at you while holding your cheek, “but if we do - and we will - you will not like the outcome.” He grinned at you, a wicked grin that set a very unsettling feeling through you.

“If you find her, I will not let you,” your voice was weaker than the first words you spoke, venom no longer filling it, but genuine fear for one of your best friends.

Poe’s panic filled voice filled the meeting room where Finn, Leia, Chewy, and Han were all sat. He had changed today’s meeting from the whole group that previously attended to a small trusted few. He was panicking, it had been over 12 hours, the window in which you were supposed to return was gone. Neither of you had emerged back on the cliff where he and Finn had waited. Poe didn’t leave the spot on the cliff for 6 of the hours you were gone, he was too panicked too. His gut had told him something went wrong and now he knew for sure something had. You were never late on your return.

His pacing only ceased when a rapid beep filled the room they were in, an incoming transmission. Leia placed a hand on his shoulder, “sit Poe,” she pushed him gently towards his chair, and lightly pushed down on his shoulder to have him sit. Moving back to the monitor, she accepted the transmission and pressed play on the attached video file.

The video feed opened to you strapped to the same tilted platform Rey was trapped on at one point. Your wrists and ankles bound, with the band across your waist. Your eyes were closed and you currently didn’t have any harm done to you - outside of course being unconscious. You were still in the same outfit you wore when you left, so nothing had happened outside of being knocked out. Which was refreshing for the group but still worrisome as you were trapped away from them. Kylo’s voice filled the room, “this is the last you will see of your precious succubus,” he walked into frame, standing broad, “when we find the scavenger, she will die. You made a grave mistake thinking you could take her from me.” He grinned then, a grin that made him look vicious and evil. A grin that made them all pause. Especially, when he turned back to look at you, the grin didn’t waver but he did give a sigh. Clearly not liking the sight of you bound.

The video ended, paused on him staring at you. A collection of voices immediately filled the room, but Poe couldn’t focus on them, he couldn’t take his eyes away from the screen. He was infuriated yes but most of all he was terrified. You were everything to him, and he knew this was going to start an all out war if they weren’t careful. Did he really care about a potential war? No, not really as it was already beginning, but this… this was a personal war against him. Kylo was angry for a variety of reasons but two main things stuck out to Poe both of which were things that Poe technically took from Kylo in some way. You and the throne. Someone’s hands came to rest on Poe’s shoulders, trying to knock him out of the trance he was in.

“Poe, dude. Breathe. We’re going to get both of them out of this alive,” his hands shaking Poe back and forth until Poe’s eyes finally snapped back up to Finn. “I promise, we will figure this out dude.”

Poe gave a singular nod, before standing up, and cutting the transmission entirely. Shaking his head, he got himself back into the correct headspace. “We need to figure out a plan and we need to figure out who the rat was. I need to know every single person that was in that meeting. They were considered to be trusted so they probably work around the command.”

His fingers found his mom’s - now yours - ring on his neck, while a tiny part of him was glad you didn’t have it with you because he couldn’t imagine what Kylo would be putting you through if he had seen it versus just heard it. But the other much larger part of him hated that you didn’t have it as a source of comfort. Immediately the room burst into work, Leia pulling up the information on the previous meeting from her own personal drive - which still had more security than anyone else could deem necessary until now that is.

“The meeting list, outside of us; Rose, Riley, Riot, and Sabine. The only name I don’t actually recognize on this list is Sabine. Does anyone know who that is?” Leia spoke, reading from the datapad in her hand. “She’d have to have been trusted by someone or snuck in behind someone without realizing her badge would automatically scan as she went through the sensor.”

“Isn’t Sabine that smuggler we recently brought back through?” Han questioned, as he looked at Chewy for confirmation. Chewy’s response was an immediate yes.

Leia looked to Poe, who was sitting at the table, elbows on his knees, with his fingers threaded into his hair. The clear anxiety and fear was written throughout him, whether you looked at his face or his body, you could feel it rolling off of him in waves. It almost made Leia smile despite the situation, because while Poe considered his proposal to you a convenience, it was clear he was in love with you. Undoubtedly so, she couldn’t wait to see that realization come when you were both reunited again.

Forever Tags: @guccirosegold @creatively-analytical

The Devil’s Gift Taglist: @jadealicious06 @kaqua

Poe Dameron Taglist: @this-bitch-writes @dameronsgf

Join my taglist here!

#poe #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x f!reader #mirawrites #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #the devil's gift #poe dameron

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jiminjamms · 2 years

Text

sex therapy :: 12. troublemakers

chapter tags/warnings: they love fighting over their favorite toy. pet names. manipulation undertones. possessiveness. infidelity/adultery. strong language. mentions of guns. humiliation. classism.

word count: 4.7k

notes: thank you for the wait and hope you learn a bit about our favorite boys. as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

The door flew open an hour later, the knob crashing against the wall followed by a ferocious holler.

“Sukuna, you asshole! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, and…what the—?”

You first stirred awake from the ruckus.

Rising from the couch’s comfort, you sluggishly rubbed at your eyes and sat up to see a much exasperated Choso from the halls staring in. This must have been quite a scene for an unsuspecting person like him: his beloved plus-one all over his therapist colleague, your dress now crinkled and makeup runny.

Poor Choso even appeared confused for a moment, his lips partially agape while his brows were furrowed, not quite processing the sight just yet.

That was, until his observant gaze shifted to the spotty coating over your thighs.

When he stared for just a moment longer, his right eyelid finally twitched at the display.

Oh, he got the idea all right.

When the recently awoken Sukuna uprighted himself as well and noticed the envy on Choso’s face, the egomaniac grinned wildly. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite grizzly bear,” he taunted and patted at his free thigh. “Wanna join? Three’s not a crowd.”

And that was when Choso’s fury really exploded.

His aura quickly and dramatically shifted from that of earlier this evening, his compassion and patience clearly gone when he approached you in deliberate steps, grabbing at your wrist and pulling you from the couch.

Good lord, it really wasn’t supposed to go down like this. You had come here to accompany a local sex therapist for a brief evening, to relieve some personal stress.

Look at yourself now. Not only had you nearly forgotten about your host altogether, but you also abandoned him only to jump his coworker’s bones. Now, he was completely pissed.

Shielding you from view, Choso sent a hostile and unforgiving glare to the pink-headed man.

“I brought her in as my guest, Shit-kuna.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve treated her like one rather than leaving a pretty face like her by the bar,” the other countered, brushing off Choso’s possessive declarations. Even as the latter scowled, the club owner stood up and strolled over casually—hands hidden in his pockets—until the two men found each other eye-to-eye. “I don’t need the cops here again like last week, so keep your eyes on your girls. There could always be men with ulterior motives at this nightclub.”

“Like yourself?”

Oof.

“Calm down, dude.” Something in Sukuna’s composure told you that this wasn’t the first time he had to deal with Choso’s ill temper. “I probably took care of your guest better than you could’ve. Maybe should learn a thing or two.”

As short-fused as Choso could be, he grudgingly silenced himself when he couldn’t go against the truth.

“Besides,” Sukuna continued when his co-worker went quiet, “where did you go?”

“Business,” Choso simply said, dark eyes hollow and an eerie hush hung in the air as though there was an immediate understanding between the two. And when you suddenly noticed the stench of blood, sweat, and smoke, you think you understood them too…but that could just be your imagination playing with you.

Sukuna didn’t comment much further either. “Well then,” he began, changing courses, “what do you need me for? Seemed like you’d been looking for me for a while.”

“Meeting. Same place as usual,’” and just in case his colleague would find a reason to delay, Choso added, “Now.”

In response, Sukuna flicked his burgundy gaze in your direction.

The girl’s still here, he seemed to tell the other man.

Oh, they wanted you out.

That was totally okay, expected even. There were no hard feelings because what would a mere housewife have to do with their business matters, if it wasn’t her money?

Smoothing the fabric of your dress, you readied to leave without disturbance, a practice you had honed given the many times Naoya would wave his hand to dismiss you.

But a sturdy grasp seized your wrist and stopped you.

Gaze traveling upward, your eyes halted at Choso’s deep and velvety ones. “And where do you think you’re going, kid?”

Confused, words stopped short in your throat. “I thought…,” a quick glance at Sukuna (who was no help at all) and you continued, “If you have a meeting, I’d just call a taxi home.”

“No,” Choso dryly declared. “There are orders that you’re also coming with us.”

“Me?” Often overshadowed by the financial and political prowess of your executive husband, you didn’t think someone else would ever find interest in your presence. “Sure that you have the right person?”

“Yes, you,” he repeated, this time slightly more annoyed. “You’re coming with us, bimbo. Oh, and don’t even think about running away from me again. Normally, I’m a good guy. But I won’t be nice if I have to punish troublemakers like you. Understood?”

He meant it, you knew. Choso would have no problem breaking a bone with that strong grip of his. His hand already tightened like a vice around your wrist. To ensure that his intentions were understood, he lowered his head such that the tip of his nose nearly brushed yours, the black sea in his eyes raging with violent waves.

“Understood?” he seethed again.

“Under…stood.” Gosh, this man must be insane.

Before the conversation could progress further, Sukuna took matters into his own hands and tore Choso’s hand from yours.

“Read the room. Can’t you tell that you’re scaring her, idiot?” Relief surged into your system when the club manager rescued you from the standoff, his charisma a potion that never failed to place you at ease. “Hasn’t Geto told you to play nice with our clients? Unlike you, not everyone likes to play rough.” Sukuna then beckoned to the door. “Why don’t I meet you at our office instead, Choso? Maybe you can surprise everyone by actually being early.”

That last note must have irked Choso again from the way his knuckles turned white.

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m older than you.”

“By three months. Congratulations.” There was nothing like fighting fire with fire. At this point, Sukuna appeared torn between amusement and orneriness as he rotated between suppressed smirks and malignant glares. “I’m sure, then, since you’re older…that you can follow my orders in my own establishment.”

Several silent seconds later, Choso finally relented. He muttered a loaded string of profanities but eventually grumbled, “Fine.” Shoving through the narrow gap between you and Sukuna right, he turned around one last time to order angrily, “but you grab Geto.”

Sukuna chortled lightly as his fellow sexpert disappeared and twisted at his bubblegum bangs in an idle fashion.

“In case you haven’t noticed already, Kamo is just like that,” he explained, referring to his colleague by last name. “Don’t take the things he says too personally, ’kay? I’m sure he meant no harm.”

“I see,” you totally lied and were thankful that your current escort didn’t mention the skepticism that was all too obvious in your tone.

Instead, as the chivalrous knight he made himself out to be, Sukuna politely placed a large hand at the small of your back and steered you out.

“Anyway, if there are orders for you,” he added by the doorway, “this only means you might be interested in what we got to say, right?”

“…I guess.”

Even if you could care less for whatever their little meeting was about, even if you thought it suspicious that several men sought company from some young heiress like you, restless curiosity was what compelled you to obey.

When you arrived again at the nightclub’s main hall, the crowd was louder than you remembered. Nothing could rile people more than the combination of good tequilas and The Weeknd remixes.

“Oh, there Geto is,” Sukuna lamely announced just several steps in, much quicker than anticipated. Following his line of vision, you quickly realized why.

Spotting Suguru was as easy as identifying a flamingo amid a flock of swans: his style was as eccentric as you remembered it, his neon pink Hawaiian shirt striking in a sea of duller hues.

But Suguru Geto wasn’t the only person who caught your attention.

He had…a girl? That shouldn’t be too surprising, but here you were—staring like a dumbfounded stalker. From your interactions with him, Geto was a complete flirt, a man who loved to be controlled rather than control himself. This woman, though…

Why did she appear so familiar?

“Shoko Ieiri,” Sukuna explained out of the blue when, in reality, he had seen right through your prolonged puzzlement. “She’s his client.”

Oh, that’s right. When you first met Geto, Shoko was the giggling woman who that therapist couldn’t stop staring at. No doubt that those fresh lipstick marks which you had last seen him with were from her too.

It was clear why Geto must be infatuated with her.

Shoko had thick chestnut hair tied from her face with one long ponytail, her soft brown eyes twinkling when Geto pressed her chest against his own. With a foxy smile, Shoko wrapped her arms around Geto's neck and murmured something into his piercing-studded ears. The man laughed and extended his tongue. As though that was what she had requested, Shoko grinned wider and latched her lips on the warm muscle. At some point, you had to attend to something different because the salacious scene felt like something you weren’t supposed to watch.

"They’re disgusting, right?" Sukuna sneered, but the smile on his lips confirmed that he was in fact a voyeur who loved the scene. "I wouldn’t be surprised if Geto gets some of that action on the weekends. He probably fools around more than actually working at the clinic that Shoko leads.”

A clinic? They were physicians?

“What field of medicine do they work in? Pediatrics?” It was a wild guess, but the doctor duo seemed to be people who could be good with kids.

Sukuna, however, scrunched his brows at your silly supposition. “No,” he snorted as though he was offended. “They’re gynecologists.”

Pupils blown wide, you sputtered, “Geto?”—and more importantly— “in gynecology?”

The uninvited imagery in your head was more vivid than you would like, one where Geto would be between a patient’s legs, examining a splayed woman simply to assess the health of her reproductive organs.

“What about it, hm?” Unlike you, Sukuna found no peculiarity in the subject. “Geto didn’t graduate in the top two of his medical school for nothing. The only person who topped him in his class was Shoko. That didn’t hurt his pride much because we all know Geto loves cute girls with sexy ass brains.”

You pondered at the thought because Geto did appear to be the type who would be into bright and confident women, fitting for a nerd-in-hiding himself. “Does she feel the same about him, though?” you casually questioned when your eyes accidentally landed on the outright PDA again.

“Oh, for sure. Shoko comes for a consultation once a week at least, booking appointments with only Geto for as long as I could remember. They've been flirting with each other since high school, did you know that?"

No, you didn't know.

You whirled around with astonishment. “High school?”

“I know.”

“Wow.” How many years was that?

If Geto and Shoko completed their medical education in Japan, that would have to be six years at least. Have they known each other for seven years, then? Eight? Jealousy pricked at your skin just trying to conjure a number. Must be nice, given how you only knew your husband from the few obligatory company events before your own wedding. “Those two must go way back.”

“Exactly. And Geto’s stupid because, like," a loud huff, "like dude, stop fucking around already. We all know that she’s entirely your type. We all know that she's a keeper. We all know she’s the one."

Glancing at the steamy pair, Sukuna noticed how Geto grabbed Shoko's ass in hand while the other roamed up to her tits.

"Okay enough!" Sukuna shouted after a gag, unintentionally bringing bystanders’ eyes to the increasingly NSFW scene. "Goddamn, you guys are gross. Get a fucking room, Geto! There's literally a Ritz Carlton across the—no, shit. I forgot. You’re actually coming with me, bro.”

Suguru didn’t catch any of that. It wasn’t until a silver-haired man nearby shook the therapist to his senses and pointed in your direction that Suguru even noticed Sukuna’s presence several meters away, his inky eyes all hazy and still dawdling over his precious girlfriend.

“He’ll follow us, don’t worry,” Sukuna surmised while watching his colleague mutter something to a similarly dazed Shoko. “Let’s just go.”

Like a helpless duckling, you attempted to match Sukuna’s tremendous strides as he kept his arm across your back, leading you into a sectioned area right off the bar. The halls were completely dark save for the LED strips running through the ceiling and floor, casting a purple-pink glow over the vicinity.

When Sukuna brought you a heavy-looking door at the very end, he removed his hold on your waist and grabbed the knob.

“We’re here.”

The door swung open to a world that bore no resemblance to the low-beamed corridor you arrived from. It was a beige-walled meeting room, one seemingly designed for comfort, work, and modernity. In the middle was one gray granite table with exactly five matching chairs around it—one at the head and two at each side. Across from everything situated a wooden bookshelf, brimming with a full library while miscellaneous papers and folders were neatly stacked at the lowest rack. As you stepped in, the floor was plush under your block heels, carpeted and luxurious.

Fulfilling his promise, Choso had been waiting patiently. He had taken the closest seat that directly faced the door, his sharp obsidian eyes quietly sending daggers across the room. In an absent-minded way, he tinkered with a handgun on the table—the same firearm from his car, you assumed (unless he had more). Squinting harder into his glare, Choso pulled the slide back before the part returned to its original position with a resounding click.

“The mag’s empty,” Choso declared as though he detected your fear. “No ammunition here.”

As if you’d believe him.

Meanwhile, Sukuna just casually strolled to the seat directly across from Choso as though he didn’t find the occurrence strange at all. You, however, weren’t crazy enough to sit anywhere near a weapon wielder and perked up when you spotted the empty seat next to Sukuna as the safest bet.

Except Geto got there first.

“Hey, hey, honeybee,” he beamed when he brushed against you at the doorway. His tone was that of an old friend, not of a reproductive health doctor slash sex therapist who you had seen making out with his top client just minutes ago.

Confidently, Geto strode past you with his all-too-familiar smile, his signature peppermint-rosemary cologne wafting behind him. He acknowledged Choso with a ‘wow, you’re on-time for once’ and greeted the birthday boy with some sort of intricate handshake, all before he claimed your site-of-interest.

Well, there went Plan B.

Knowing full well that taking the spot immediately next to Choso might as well be a death wish, you took a direct route to the head of the table—the only other available seat.

This time, though, Choso verbally stopped you. “Not there,” he gruffed while now rubbing the rectangular tattoo across his nose bridge. “That one’s already taken.”

“Oh,” you mouthed, lips forming a circle to signal your surprise. There were assigned seats at this table?

With his chin, Choso then motioned to the one remaining seat next to him. “Butt down here. No one sits there anymore.”

Anymore, huh?

Neither Sukuna nor Geto protested in your favor.

Cautiously, you walked over and plopped into the leather office chair with the sophistication of a walrus. Did it really matter where you sat? This wasn’t a high school classroom or anything. Then, why did they have to make such an enormous deal out of—

“What’s up, boss?”

In the end, it was Suguru’s chirping voice that knocked your vexed thoughts loose.

Boss?

Puzzled, you whirled around to see no one other than Toji Fushiguro entering the premises. As Toji closed the door behind him with a quiet thud, you realized that he was the only therapist whom you hadn’t seen all night. On a typical evening, awkwardness would suck at your soul upon seeing him, the man who you had shared one too many scandal-worthy affairs with, the same person whom you refused to sexually involve yourself with any further (only for you to break your resolve with Sukuna instead, oops).

Toji, meanwhile, carried the same professional confidence that he seemed to always hold, his movements purposeful while proceeding to the front of the table, a position where he could oversee all. He did his little trick again, the one where he would spin an office chair on its axis before he sat down in one fluid motion.

From your angle, you noticed that even his outfit was something seemingly precise. Strong legs were spread apart, clad in black denim and braced on the carpeted floor, ending in dark leather loafers. A white Ralph Lauren sweater covered what would have been a mural of carefully etched tattoos, and his black hair was glossed back, his jawline angled and squared.

Any doubts about Toji’s central role were dissolved when you noticed the mood shift remarkably, a sudden seriousness enveloping the vicinity. This was the first time you had seen all four sex therapists in the same room, and for a moment, only silence clung to the walls.

Toji was the first to speak. “Good evening.”

When he scanned the room, the seafoam green in his eyes appeared to glow when he spotted you, all pretty in your pink dress. Although he addressed the table, it almost felt like he was only talking to you. Had you blinked, you would have also missed the way his gaze flickered to the telling white spots on your thighs, but he chose to not comment on them directly. Yet.

“Well,” you chimed, forcing Toji to have his eyes up here rather than roaming in places where they shouldn’t be. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t necessarily want to participate in this meeting, you know.”

“That doesn’t matter now that you’re already here, doesn’t it?” Toji countered as his colleagues listened.

Involuntarily, you swallowed hard.

Since when did he have such an unnerving effect on you? It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d talked to him, but the firmness in his tone was almost uncharacteristic. Come to think of it, his mannerisms reminded you of someone. Of Naoya? Perhaps. But where exactly was Toji trying to go with this conversation?

When he took your prolonged silence as a response, Toji slowly straightened up in his seat, his posture akin to that of a robed Roman senator.

“People told me that you were at Teyvat, and I simply thought that it wouldn’t hurt for you to spend quality time with us given that we therapists all convene here every week at this time.” He leaned forward slightly. “Besides, you and I…we’re friends, remember? And friends hang out, young lady.”

In a place like this? Totally.

Despite Toji’s pursuits to soothe, one thought nagged at the back of your mind. "Stop it with this ‘friends’ crap. If you were really my friend, Toji, you’d tell me why you wanted me here.” Mustering the guts to challenge the status quo wasn’t easy, and you exhaled deeply to regulate your incoming tantrum. “Know what? In all honesty, I don't know you. Or any of your buddies here, frankly. In fact—”

“University of Tokyo.”

The new answerer came from nowhere.

Perplexed, you looked over to see that it was Geto. He had his man bun scrunched up in one large hand, and when he discerned the fusillade of questions in your gaze, he one-by-one pointed to selected participants at the table. “Sukuna, Economics. Choso, Mechanical Engineering. And me, Biology.”

“What…?” At first, you were befuddled. However, the puzzle slowly came together when you began to understand that Geto had listed names followed by what sounded like college majors. “You…three went to UTokyo?”

Attending what was widely acclaimed to be the most selective and prestigious university in Japan was nothing short of a gargantuan feat, which was what made you altogether more baffled when then Sukuna nodded and added, “Graduated five years ago.”

“Are you serious?” Okay, your reaction might have registered as offensive, but why had you not known about this earlier? No, wait. This information must have been under the sex therapy clinic’s ‘Staff Profiles’ webpage, which you really should have checked out long, long ago but didn’t.

Meanwhile, Sukuna smiled. “We’re impressive, I know." Snooty as always. “We’re smart cookies. Plus, we’re not your regular therapists. We’re sex therapists.” He then leaned dramatically across the table, even lifting himself from his seat. “Well, that must mean you know what we specialize in, right?”

It was a rhetorical question, but he paused for effect, his maroon gaze ablaze amid the inky designs on his features.

Next to him, Geto dragged Sukuna down. He had that smile again, the one where his dark eyes disappeared into beautiful half-moons, but it was clear that he seemed sorry for his colleague’s misbehavior.

“Listen, Y/N, you make a valid argument,” Geto elaborated, addressing your original concern. “We can’t be friends when you don’t even know us. You’ve probably realized by now that there’s more to what meets the eye—that sex therapy isn’t the only thing we do. If you’re really that curious...” He first tipped his head toward the person to his right. “For starters, we wouldn’t even be here if Sukuna didn’t outright own this nightclub.”

The mentioned businessman, whose ego was most certainly stroked, smiled proudly. “I’m sure she’s figured that out by now, Captain Obvious.”

“Right, but even though Tokyo’s Roppongi is Sukuna’s main hub, Teyvat’s other locations in Kyoto and Osaka are constantly ranked as top nightlife destinations in their respective regions.” How Geto kept his cool while still dishing out compliments was a mystery. He must be a really nice guy. Either that, or he was wondrously talented at faking it ‘till he made it.

Nonetheless, Geto turned to his next target. “Now about Choso,” he began as his dark eyes noticed Choso’s supposedly empty handgun on the table. “He’s a hitman, a contract killer essentially.”

“No, I’m a mediator,” Choso corrected rather unconvincingly. “I only work when people need me to, when they have conflicts to resolve.”

Of course, this obviously made you even more grateful to take the seat immediately next to a one-man killing machine. (Not.)

Geto didn’t let you fully process much because he then gestured to himself. “As for myself, I completed my medical program four years ago. My current focus is gynecology.”

At this point, this information only served as a confirmation of what you already knew.

Now, the elephant of the room: “And you, Toji?”

Upon the ask, the said man did not immediately reply.

Surely, Toji must have expected the question, but everything told you that he had been intentional in avoiding the topic. Even the other therapists in the room seemed uncomfortable, as though you’d probed something you shouldn’t have.

Choso side-eyed the older man before turning to you. “Y/N.” His tone—it wasn’t friendly. Choso knew something you didn’t, and—given the ambiance in the room—the same could be said for the others. Why was everyone suddenly so secretive when they were openly discussing their outside work just a minute ago? “I don’t think—”

“I’m their boss,” Toji interrupted, to the surprise of many. “Aside from Megumi, whom you’d met over the phone, these guys have treated me like family more than my blood-related kin have.”

Stroking his bottom lip with an index finger, Toji paused suddenly. His gaze narrowed, eyes darkening. Why did he look at you like that? Were you supposed to say something?

“Anyway,” he resumed when he must have decided you were too slow to catch on. “I recruited these guys right when they completed their undergraduate degrees, around the time I just opened my therapy office. We’ve been working together since, for the past four years.”

Lips pursed, you arched a brow. So Toji was just their sex therapy supervisor?

No, that couldn’t be it. Given the other therapists’ stories, Toji’s own outside endeavors couldn’t just be so simple. He was tough and clever, a man who constantly seemed to hold more stories than he could tell.

“There has to be more than that,” you blurted back.

“Hey...” This time, Geto had to reign you in. His tone, like Choso’s, was steely.

When you looked back at Toji, you could see why. His usually bright eyes have gone completely cold—totally blank—as though you were staring at the side of a glacier. His lips also tightened into a despondent frown. Bit by bit, the cunning flare that fueled Toji was dimmed into an entity that was dark, solid, and unbreakable.

When he eventually responded, bitterness bled through his answer. “No, there doesn’t have to be ‘more than that,’ ma’am. I don’t understand why you would make that assumption about me. You don’t know more about my own life than I do. Rather, the situation is the other way around. You’d be surprised, in fact, by how much we know about you.”

Whatever the reason, he truly appeared infuriated that you insisted to pry into his life. Was this his form of bluffing, to challenge you?

“Well,” you huffed to match his temper, “everyone knows I’m married to—”

“Yes, Naoya Zenin, CEO of the almighty Zenin Corporation,” Toji interrupted, an inexplicable agitation clear in his gruffy voice. “Not to mention your own father, the Chief Operating Officer, is your husband’s right-hand man. Both men are C-suite executives of Japan’s largest conglomerate, a firm whose subsidiaries generated over 17% of Japan’s gross domestic product last year, a company whose market cap is only surpassed by South Korea’s Samsung Group and China’s Tencent Holdings in the Asia-Pacific region.”

He then paused, and you were stunned.

Even if he sounded like a broken record from Channel 3 News, Toji never seemed to be of the caliber to care about such knowledge. No typical layman like him would be so invested in the details of yourself and your husband’s company. “Why—"

“Your husband and your father are the leaders of the game, aren’t they?” he reckoned, cutting you off for the second time. “One wrong word in a corporate conference call, and the Nikkei 225 sinks several percentage points. They’re powerful alright. But you? What role do you play?” Sitting back into his seat, he leisurely brought one ankle over his knee. “Nothing. You’re nothing but a rich homemaker, their sidepiece in the grand scheme of things.”

Beside you, Choso stifled a smirk and Geto consequently kicked his coworker’s right calf under the table.

You were starting to believe Toji, that he and his sidekicks over here did—for one reason or another—saw the bigger picture when you couldn’t.

“Why…does this matter to you?” Unlike before, your voice was a little less sure of itself.

Now that he had your interest, Toji propped his elbows on the table and intertwined his figures. “Let me tell you why you’re here, then,” he clarified, the stylized vines by his temple flexing as he spoke. "We have one goal: to bring Naoya Zenin down."

Okay, Toji had gone crazy. The fact that no one else seemed surprised must have meant that this was all an elaborate set-up to get you to turn your own husband in. They were all small business owners, perhaps upset that the Zenin Corporation's near-monopoly had driven their own profits to zero. However, betraying your family, even the one linked by marriage rather than blood, laid beyond your morals.

"Listen," you warned with crossed arms, determined to not be swayed any further. "If you’re going to ramble on about some divorce bullsh—"

"Naoya Zenin is cheating on you."

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Overprotective (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

A/N: This was a request from an anon who wanted overprotective Jay and Will and angst and fluff! So, I hope I did your request justice!

Thanks for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I love reading your comments because they put a smile on my face!

Thunderstorm (age 7)

It had been six months since your mom died. Jay was back from his second deployment and was now a police officer and Will was in New York for what you called doctor school. And your dad, well he was here in Chicago with you physically, but not mentally.

You whimpered as you hugged your teddy bear--whom you had affectionately named Officer Chuckles after you heard someone call Jay that at a picnic for police and their families--tight to your chest. The thunder was really loud and you swore it was shaking the house. And, to make matters worse, your dad wasn't here; he had left his seven-year-old daughter alone at home, during a thunderstorm, at 11:30 at night.

Your mom had loved thunderstorms and she'd always watch them as they rolled in. If it was morning, she'd sit and drink her coffee on the front porch while she watched them and listened to the rain drum down on the roof. If it was nighttime, she'd have something called wine, which she told you that you couldn't have until you were older, and do the same thing.

Because of this, every time there was a thunderstorm and your dad wasn't working, he'd always go to the cemetery to visit your mom. You didn't know what he did there. You just knew that every time there was a thunderstorm, you'd just be that much more scared.

Your mom used to comfort you when there was a thunderstorm; she'd tell you that the thunder was just a giant up in the sky bowling and that he just got a strike. But, your dad wouldn't really comfort you because he'd just leave. And, there was only so much Officer Chuckles and huddling in your blankets could do for you.

"We gotta call Jay," you whispered to your bear. "He'll know what to do."

So, you gripped Officer Chuckles in your little hand and then made your way into the kitchen. You jumped as more lightning and thunder cracked across the sky.

You flicked on the light and picked up the phone. You looked at the number on the fridge and carefully dialed it and then hit the "talk" button. Then, you listened to it ring while little whimpers of fear escaped your mouth.

"Dad? Why are you--" You jumped and a small scream came out. "Y/N? Kiddo, what are you doing up? It's late."

"I- I'm scared," you said quickly and ran back to your room with Officer Chuckles and the phone still in your hand and pressed up to your ear.

"Because of the thunder?" Jay asked gently.

"Uh-huh," you answered as you buried yourself back under your covers. "Daddy's not here and-and it's really loud."

"Dad's not there?"

"He went to see Mommy." You squeaked as more thunder came.

Jay cursed on the other end of the phone and hoped you didn't pick up on it. "Y/N, I will be there in ten minutes, okay? I just want you to stay in your room until I get there. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh-huh. But please come fast, Jay Jay. Me and Officer Chuckles are really scared."

"I'll come really, really fast. I promise. Now, I have to put down the phone so I can drive. But I promise I'll get there really fast. I love you."

"I love you, too, Jay Jay."

***

Jay cursed himself as he drove as fast as he could towards his childhood home. He didn't even speed, just tried to go the speed limit. But, it was downpouring so hard that he had to slow down so that he didn't hydroplane and get into a car accident. He didn't need that right now and you definitely didn't need that right now.

Jay walked up the front porch--forgetting his umbrella in his car because he was so focused on getting to you--and then found the spare key under the flower pot. The flower was fake; there's no way your dad could keep a plant alive.

"Y/N?" he called out as he slipped off his shoes once he was inside. "It's me. It's Jay Jay."

Thunder cracked across the sky and Jay swore under his breath and then took off running to your bedroom.

There, he found you huddled underneath your comforter clutching Officer Chuckles to your chest and resting your head against him. Your small night light was the only thing giving off light in your room.

"Y/N," he whispered, causing you to jump. "It's okay, it's just me. It's Jay," he said quickly and then flicked on your bedroom light.

Now that everything was bathed in light, you jumped out of bed without hesitating and held tightly onto Jay. "It's too loud! It's too loud!" you wailed as your fingers clutched the bottom of his shirt.

"I know, I know," he soothed and gently rubbed your back while you continued to cry. "But remember what Mom said? It's just a giant up in the sky bowling."

"Well, he needs to play a quieter game."

Jay laughed at that. "I mean, we could try to tell him that, but I don't think he'd listen since he's way bigger than us." You nodded in agreement. Jay crouched down in front of you, seeing as you had finally let go of him. "Y/N, can you grab me your most favorite backpack?"

"Why?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "It's nighttime, not school time."

Jay smiled at your innocence. "I know. But, you're gonna come over to my house and we're gonna have a sleepover."

"Like we do on some weekends?"

"Just like that."

More thunder.

You grabbed onto Jay's hand. "You come with me to get my backpack in the living room?"

Jay nodded. "Of course."

Once you were back in your room, Jay started grabbing some clothes for you and you grabbed your favorite blanket and Officer Chuckles. Then, something dawned on you. You were always supposed to tell your daddy if you went somewhere.

"Will Daddy be mad?"

Jay turned away from your dresser and to look at you. "Why would he be mad, kiddo?"

"Because I'm not- I'm not telling him I'm having a sleepover with you."

"Oh, he knows."

"You talked to him?"

"I called him on the way here." Well, he sent him a strongly worded text message, but that was basically the same thing. All he needed to know was that you were coming to his house since you were scared of the storm (not to mention you were seven years old and you shouldn't be home alone in the first place). He hadn't answered the text yet, but at least he'd know where you were.

"Okay. Will you come with me to get my raincoat, too?"

Jay had just finished putting the last of a pair of clothes in your backpack. "I think we can grab that on our way out. Good thinking, kiddo."

He shouldered your little backpack and took your blanket from you so that it wouldn't drag on the wet ground when you walked outside. Then, you put on your rain boots and raincoat at the front door and clutched Officer Chuckles super tight and walked out to Jay's car, and started on your way to his apartment.

***

"Hold my hand when we walk through the parking lot, okay?" Jay said as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building.

"Okay."

He put the car in park and then turned it off and got out, quickly opening an umbrella he had stashed in his passenger seat. Then, he made his way over to your side of the car and helped you out and grabbed your backpack, and slung your blanket over his shoulders. You held tight to Officer Chuckles with one hand and held Jay's hand with the other while you two walked into his apartment building, the umbrella Jay was holding with his opposite hand shielding you from the rain.

Once you were inside, you handed Jay your raincoat and he hung it up on the rack because you couldn't reach it.

Jay started digging around in your backpack for the spare pair of pajamas that he had packed for you. "Okay, Y/N, why don't you go put on these nice comfy pajamas--"

"Because mine are kinda wet?" you asked and looked up at your big brother.

"Yes, because yours are kind of wet," Jay confirmed. "And then after, we can go to sleep, okay?"

Thunder cracked again and you jumped.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jay said and crouched down in front of you. "I promise you nothing bad will happen."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he confirmed with a nod of his head.

You turned to go change your clothes, and then remembered something. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course."

After you changed into dry pajamas, you put your dirty ones in your backpack and left the bathroom to see Jay sitting on the couch waiting for you. "Ready for bed?" he asked.

You yawned. "Uh-huh."

Jay glanced at the clock. It was nearing 12:30 am. There was no way you were going to go to school after six and a half hours of sleep. So, he had a plan. And that plan involved iHOP.

Once you got into bed, you tried to fall asleep, but you couldn't. Jay noticed this when you jumped at the thunder. So, he grabbed your little hand in his and squeezed. You then moved closer to him and buried your head in his chest. You knew you were safe from the thunder because your big brother was around and he was big and strong and would protect you from anything. So, you soon fell asleep after, ending your very long night.

***

You rubbed your eyes as you walked out of Jay's bedroom the next morning, Officer Chuckles in your hand dangling by your side.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Jay said.

You looked at the clock. 8:30. "Don't I gotta be at school?" you asked, scrunching up your eyebrows which Jay thought was the cutest thing ever.

"Not until after lunchtime," he told you. "You were up really late, so I wanted to let you sleep. And, so we can go out for breakfast."

"Really? Where?" you asked excitedly, almost dropping Officer Chuckles because you were absolutely buzzing with excitement.

"That is a surprise. Now, how about you go get dressed and brush your teeth and brush your hair, and then we can get going, okay?"

"Okay!"

Then, you scampered off and did just what Jay told you to do. You wanted to know what the surprise would be!

Once you were all done, you and Jay left, and on the ride to the place where you were going for breakfast, you kept asking where you'd be going. But, Jay just wouldn't let up. But, then you saw the big blue sign and knew exactly where you were headed.

"iHOP!" you exclaimed. "Smiley pancakes! Smiley pancakes!" You looked at Jay as he turned into the parking lot. "Can I get the smiley face pancakes? Please, Jay Jay?"

Jay smiled at your excitement. "Yes, you can get the smiley face pancakes."

"Yay!" you cheered.

After breakfast and going back to his apartment to get your school stuff that he had packed in your backpack last night, Jay brought you to school.

When he got back to his apartment, he started making phone calls and cashing in favors.

A month and a half later, Jay officially had guardianship of you.

***

Beach fight (age 14)

"It's so hot," you whined as you walked out of your room in the middle of summer and into the kitchen. You looked at Jay who was drinking coffee out of a mug. "I don't get how you can drink hot coffee. It's too hot out for that."

"You--" Jay took a sip of his coffee.--"are such a drama queen."

"But I'm a queen, so I'll take it."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Wonder where you got the quick comebacks from."

"Just a tall, red-headed doctor. Definitely not you."

"You're funny, kid. Real funny." Jay's phone buzzed. He furrowed his eyebrows. Then it buzzed again and he made eye contact with you and tilted his head to the side. "You texted Will about a beach day? And said that I said it was okay?"

"Uh-huh. You aren't the only Halstead sibling who can be sneaky you know."

"Normally, normally I'd be pissed. But, it's scorching out. So I'll give him a call. Go start getting ready and wear your swimsuit under your clothes so we don't have to change there."

"Yes! Thank you, Jay! Love you!" You gave him a quick hug.

"Yeah, yeah. You never love me more than when you get your way."

Then, you went off to your room to get changed.

***

"Will said he'd be right here," Jay muttered as he looked at his phone for the millionth time in ten minutes. Will and Jay had set up a spot to meet, but Will was running late.

Then, Will's familiar car pulled in and he parked. "Sorry I'm late," he started as he stepped out. "Had to pick up some groceries." He held up the six-pack of beer. "Can't have a beach day without alcohol."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Uh, yes, you can. And both of us are driving home." He turned to you. "Y/N, you're gonna have to make sure each of us only drinks two. I should be fine, but I don't know about him here."

"Hey!" Will exclaimed and then smacked Jay upside the head with his free hand.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your beach chair and your drawstring bag with your towel and your book from Jay's truck. Jay grabbed the cooler, his bag, and his chair. Will grabbed his stuff and then the three of you were off.

***

You had waded in the water and read your book for a bit while Will and Jay chatted about some mutual cases they had come across while drinking their beer and eating snacks. You were snacking on your cheddar popcorn, (which Will had affectionately picked up a bag for you when he went to get beer because he knew it was your favorite) when you realized something: the boys had a drink other than water but you didn't.

You debated which brother would allow you to buy something from the coffee cart up by the entrance to the beach.

Will won.

"Will," you said sweetly and turned around to look at him.

"Uh oh," Jay said. "That's her I want something voice. Don't give in. Be strong."

Will rolled his eyes. "Yes, Y/N?"

"I was thinking--"

"It's worse than I thought!" Jay exclaimed. "She's thinking!"

You scowled at him and turned back to face Will. "I was thinking that since you two have something other than water to drink and I don't, could I maybe get something from the coffee cart? Please?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Dude! She's fourteen! She shouldn't be drinking caffeine...especially not at noon!" Jay protested.

"There's this thing called decaf coffee, Jay."

"There's this thing called decaf coffee, Jay," Jay mocked. "Shut up, Will."

Will rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I have to go to the bathroom, so I'll walk up with there with you and just give you money and meet you back there." He looked at Jay. "Are you okay with that? I know you hate when she's out of our sight in super crowded place like this," he asked Jay.

"I do not do that!" Jay argued. You and Will gave him a look. "Fine. Maybe I do. I just see a lot of stuff that I never want her to be involved in. Just, make sure you give Will his change back."

"I will," you said. After all, you were in a swimsuit, not that there were pockets there for you to stash your big brother's change like you normally did and then keep it for yourself.

You and Will made your way up the beach to the entrance where he handed you a ten-dollar bill and you two split up. He went straight to go to the bathrooms and you took a slight right to go to the coffee cart.

Will had said on the walk up not to wait for him and to just go back to Jay. So, you ordered your decaf iced mocha caramel latte, took the four dollars and something cents in change, got your latte, and started to walk back to Jay.

That was, you walked until you heard it.

A catcall.

You pretended you didn't hear it, that it was directed at someone else.

But then, "Babe with the coffee." You stopped walking. "I know you heard me. C'mon, show us that pretty face of yours."

Your eyes widened as you swallowed and your lip started to tremble. You knew you should just make a run for it, but you knew that in running in the sand with your hands full, that you'd just end up face planting and getting a mouth full of sand.

"Aw, c'mon baby. I've got friends, too. You don't like me, maybe you'll like them. We'll like you either way."

You wanted to smack yourself at what came out of your mouth next. You turned around. These guys were probably 23-25 year-olds and there were three of them. They were way taller than you and you knew that they'd easily be able to overpower you. But, you said the first thing that you thought would make them back off.

"I have a boy--". You cleared your throat. "I have a boyfriend."

"I don't see no boy." He turned to one of his friends. "Do you?" The other guy shook his head.

Where the fuck is Will?

"Take my money. Just, leave me alone."

You held the money out to the man, but instead of taking it, he grabbed your wrist instead. Hard.

You dropped your coffee, the plastic cup breaking in the sand and making the cold, sweet liquid form a puddle.

"How cute, boys. She's paying us, normally we'd be paying her!"

From down on the beach, Jay was watching from afar. He saw some guys walking towards you and at first, he assumed that they might've been older siblings of some kids you knew at school or something like that.

Then, he noticed your rigid posture and stood up.

He started walking toward you.

You held your hand out and the guy grabbed your wrist.

Jay started running.

"Just, let me go and we can pretend this never happened," you said, borrowing a line you had seen in movies multiple times...not that it ever worked in those, but maybe it'd work in real life.

"No can--"

"Hey!"

Oh, thank God for Jay.

"You the boyfriend?" he asked rhetorically. "She's gotta be sixteen then. How is she?"

"For your information, I'm the brother. And, it'd be in your best interest to let go," Jay growled.

"Three on one. This should be fun." The guy shrugged.

"Listen, man. I really don't feel like doing this here. So just, let her go."

He tugged you closer to him and you yelped, your front hitting his chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt arms wrap around you and pull you away from the random guy's chest and you screamed.

"You son of a bitch!" Jay yelled.

You opened your eyes to see that Will was the one who had run up and pulled you back, your heart still beating out of your chest.

"Jay, he's not--" Will tried, but it was no use.

Jay threw the first punch.

The guy's head flew back and he fell to the ground. The guy tried to throw a punch from there, but Jay easily dodged it. Then, he threw three more hits to his face.

Will turned his head away from the fight at the sound of shitty sirens. "Fucking hell, Jay! Security!"

He didn't stop.

"Jay!" you yelled.

Now, this caused him to stop for a second...right as security pulled up next to him.

Jay looked up.

"He threw the first punch!" the man yelled to security before Jay could even explain the situation in its entirety.

"And you harassed my sister, so I think me punching you was warranted!" Jay argued. He turned to security. "Jay Halstead, CPD detective with the Intelligence unit."

The two beach security guards shared a glance. One sighed. "Okay, to make this easier, we won't call the cops because apparently, he is one. But, both of you are banned from the beach."

"What?" the guy bellowed. "You're not even going to ask him for some identification? Unbelievable!"

"I can easily go grab my badge from my car, officer," Jay suggested.

"That won't be necessary," the security guard said. He turned to you. "Miss, did he hurt you in any way?" You held out your hand to show him your wrist, which was red and you knew you'd have bruising on it tomorrow. Then, he turned his attention back to the guy who had been harassing you and his two friends. "You, come with me. Unless one of your buddies wants to cop to being the one who did the harassing?"

The two other guys held up their hands in a sign of surrender and backed up.

"What?" the guy yelled. "I need medical attention! I probably need stitches!"

"And we can have someone do that for you, but you need to come with us." He pulled out a pair of zip ties and got them on the guy's wrist...not without him giving the security guards some difficulty, though. He turned his attention back to you and your brothers. "I take it back, Detective, you're not banned."

Jay gave him a curt nod of thanks.

"What?" the guy yelled as the security guard started walking, taking the creeper away from you and your brothers.

"Keep it moving, buddy. Keep it moving."

"Let's get outta here," Will suggested.

You and Jay agreed, and then the three of you went to grab your stuff from where it previously was at the beach.

***

You had ridden back home with Will instead of Jay since he needed some time to cool off...and call Voight to make sure that the asshole actually got some jail time or something. Basically, Jay needed Voight to make sure that the beach security was actually doing their job.

The two of you made your way into the apartment (Jay had given Will a key and Will had given Jay a key to his apartment also. You didn't bring your key because you thought you'd be riding home with Jay, but then everything popped off.). Then, Will immediately went into doctor mode.

"Go change into some clothes and then I'm gonna take a look at that wrist," he told you.

You nodded and quickly changed into a pair of comfy shorts and a t-shirt. Then, you made your way to the kitchen table where Will was waiting expectantly. You sat down a sighed.

"You okay?" Will asked as he stopped unzipping his medical bag that he always kept in his car in case of emergencies and gave you his full attention.

"That was terrifying. I just, I never would've thought that would happen."

"And it shouldn't have happened. You're fourteen; you're just a kid. It shouldn't happen to an adult, much less a kid." You nodded. "Can I see your wrist?"

You held it out to him and he gently pressed on it and began to inspect it. "You know," you started, "I thought you'd be patching up Jay. Turns out that ass- that guy's friends didn't want to get involved."

"I wouldn't either," Will agreed. "There's no way I'd want to be one the receiving end of a fistfight with Jay. And, for the record, that guy was an asshole." Then, he started talking about the subject at hand. "Well, good news is that it isn't broken...but we already knew that. Bad news is that there will be some slight bruising, so we need to ice it."

"Okay."

Will got up to get some ice from the freezer when Jay walked in...holding a bag of groceries.

"What's that?" you asked.

"Well, I figured we'd get ice cream after the beach, but since that didn't happen, I decided to pick some up." He set the bag of groceries on the table in front of you and started taking out pints of ice cream. "Superman for Will, Neopolitan for me, and cookies n creme for you."

Your eyes went wide as you saw the ice cream and quickly snatched up your pint. Jay laughed at your excitement.

"Still can't believe that Will's favorite is Superman," you mused.

"He's like a kid in an adult's body," Jay agreed.

"I heard that!" Will yelled and then came back with an ice pack and three spoons. "What can I say, I'm a sugar aficionado. Now, what movie are we watching?"

The three of you made your way over to the couch with your spoons and ice cream, you with your ice pack as well, and started to try and agree on a movie.

Sometimes, you hated that Jay was so vigilant and that Will always had to take a look at something as small as a scrape, but today, those two things definitely came in handy. And, you couldn't be more thankful.

***

Migraine (age 16)

Oh here we go again, you thought as you sat in your American history class and felt the pounding in your head coming on. You had had a slight headache this morning but had a feeling it was going to turn into something more since all of your headaches lately have been turning into migraines almost every other day for the past week. For a few weeks, you'd been having headaches and they started out not too bad, a small dose of Tylenol would fix them. You assumed they were just stress headaches from school. But, then they started making the sides of your head pound and making you sensitive to light or nauseous. And right now, you felt a really bad one coming on.

Forty-five minutes later, you had gotten out of your history class and were on your way to biology. But, you were in the midst of the worst migraine of your life. Your head was pounding, everyone seemed to be talking right in your ear, and the lights were way too bright even when you squinted.

You had to go home. You couldn't stay at school any longer.

So, you went to the office and explained this and then called Jay.

"Hello? Y/N, aren't you supposed to be in class?" he asked when he answered.

"My head hurts really bad, Jay. Please, can you come pick me up?" you asked.

"I can have someone drop off some Tylenol," he suggested.

"No," you whined. "It hurts so bad. The light hurts my head and people talking hurts my head. Please, Jay."

You were practically pleading and even though Jay knew that you had a geometry test today, he agreed.

"Okay, I'll email your math teacher about the test."

"Oh. I forgot about that." You hissed as the late bell rang, causing your head to pound even more for those few seconds.

"That bad, huh?" Jay asked, having heard the bell chime on his end of the phone.

"Uh-huh. But, I can't drive home."

"Okay, and I can't pick you because I'm meeting with a CI. You okay if Adam picks you up and brings you back to the district? Then, me and someone else can go pick up your car from school later?"

"Okay. Why can't I just go home?"

"Because, if you're feeling as crappy as you say you are, then I'd prefer that someone has eyes on you. I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay, bye Jay."

Then, you hung up, told the secretary you'd be leaving so that she could send an email to your teachers, grabbed your stuff from your locker, and came back to the office to wait for Adam.

***

Twenty minutes later, Adam walked into the office.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm gonna sign you out and then we'll get you out of here, okay?" You had balled up your sweatshirt and were using it as a pillow and had your eyes closed. But, you cracked them open and nodded. Adam knew this definitely wasn't you lying to get out of a test because usually, you'd tell him not to call you kiddo, seeing as you were sixteen.

Adm showed his ID to the secretary and then he signed you out. You stood up and your head started pounding even more due to the sudden change in posture.

"Here, I can take your bag," Adam offered and you handed him your backpack.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

Then, you made your way to Adam's Jeep and got in the backseat. Not even two minutes into the trip to the district, you knew you couldn't take the music that was playing from the radio...even though you knew it was lower than he normally played it.

"Adam?" you asked, your head now resting on your balled-up sweatshirt as you tried your best to lay down while still buckled up in the backseat.

"Yeah?"

"Can you turn off the music? It really hurts my head."

"Of course." Then, he quickly turned off the radio and the two of you rode in silence the rest of the way to the district.

Adam would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you.

***

"Mini Halstead! What's--" Trudy Platt exclaimed when you and Adam walked into the district, but Adam quickly placed a finger to his lips as you whimpered at the loudness of her voice. "Sorry," she whispered. "You hungry?"

You shook your head. "Thanks, though."

The desk sergeant nodded. "Let me know if she needs anything," she directed to Adam.

"Will do, Sarge."

Then, the two of you made your way up the stairs and into Intelligence, not without the buzzer on the gate causing you to hiss at the pain it caused in your temples.

"Mini Halstead!" Kevin exclaimed, but Adam quickly put a finger to his lips as you whimpered at his loud voice.

Jay quickly made his way over to you. "Let's go into the break room, okay?" You nodded. Jay turned to Adam. "I can take her bag."

Jay took your backpack from Adam and then the two of you went into the break room.

"There's some Tylenol and water on the table for you," Jay said, fully expecting you to walk over and get it. But, instead, you just plopped yourself down on the couch. "Or, I can bring it to you."

He gave you the water and the two pills and you took them.

"Have you eaten anything since breakfast?" he asked.

You shook your head. "Hurts to chew."

"Okay." Jay paused for a moment. "I think I have a banana I brought with me in case I got hungry. Is that soft enough for you to chew? I want you to eat something."

"I guess," you mumbled as you laid down on the couch. "Just wanna sleep."

"I know, but I wanna get some calories in you before you do that. Can you just stay awake for like five more minutes?" You nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back."

Jay came back two minutes later with a banana and a blanket.

"Where'd you get the blanket?" you asked.

"I keep it in my truck for late-night stakeouts. Here." He handed you the banana and then set the blanket next to you. "I don't have a pillow, so your sweatshirt will have to do. You all set?"

"Yeah, gonna eat this and take a nap."

"Okay, I'll make sure Voight doesn't yell too much. This door's pretty much soundproof though, so you should be fine. Come get me if you need anything."

"Okay."

Then, you ate the banana, folded up your hoodie and put it under your head, and pulled the blanket over you, quickly falling asleep.

***

You woke up two hours later feeling too warm. Your migraine had subsided into just a headache...but you knew in a couple of hours, the migraine would probably be back after the Tylenol had worn off. And, it was still a decently bad headache, just without the light hurting your eyes as much.

But then, you had an idea.

Sometimes at home when you had headaches, you'd lay your head on the tiled floor of the bathroom because it was cold. Cold surfaces always seemed to help.

So, you looked out into the bullpen to see if anyone was there.

No one.

You picked up your phone to see a text from Jay saying that they had gone on a raid and would be back soon and that if you needed anything, to let Trudy know. He also said that he had let Will know what was going on and that he'd be at the apartment later tonight to check up on you.

You wrapped the blanket around you and then made your way out of the bullpen and into an empty interrogation room.

You sat down in the cold metal chair and held your blanket tighter around your body. Then, you laid your head on the cold metal table and relished the feeling of coolness on your head.

Yeah, this will help.

***

"I didn't do it! I swear!" a drug dealer that Trudy was holding by the arm defended himself while Trudy led him to an interrogation room.

"Not that I don't believe you," she started, "but I've heard that one before."

She walked into the interrogation room and her eyes went wide when she saw you lying with your head on the table, asleep.

"What's a kid doing in here? I don't know her!"

"Shut up," Trudy told him. "Come on."

Then, she pulled him towards the next interrogation room.

"Some officers will be in here soon to have a chat with you. Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

Then, Trudy left the room and closed the door, and made her way into the interrogation room where you were currently sleeping.

She knelt down beside you. "Y/N," she whispered. You didn't stir. She placed a hand on your shoulder. "Kid, wake up."

"Hmmm, no," you said, not even lifting your head up. "Wanna go home. Cold feels good on my head."

Then, Trudy heard the buzzer to Intelligence go off. "I'll be back," she told you.

"Uh-huh," you said, closing your eyes once again.

Trudy walked into Intelligence and immediately set her sights on Jay.

"Halstead," she barked.

Jay quickly turned his head. "What can I do for you, Sarge?"

"You can explain to me why that sister of yours is currently taking a nap in one of my interrogation rooms because she says the cold feels good on her head and then get her out of there," she told him.

"What?" he asked, more confused than ever.

"Y/N's napping at the table in an interrogation room. I need you to get her out of there. I almost put a dealer in there."

"Why's she in there?"

"Like I just told you: she said the cold feels good on her head. But I need you to get her out of there. Now."

"Copy you, Sarge."

"Good choice, Chuckles, good choice."

Then, Jay made his way to the interrogation room that Trudy told him that you were in.

He squatted down next to you. "Y/N," he whispered.

"Feels good. Leave," you mumbled.

"You know I can't let you stay in here. We gotta get you back out into the break room. It's not safe for you in here."

"Don't care."

Jay huffed. "I know you don't, but I do."

You opened your eyes to see that Jay had turned the lights on all the way...compared to how dim you had them before.

Fuck, it had been a few hours since you had taken the Tylenol and it was wearing off.

You closed your eyes again.

"Y/N," Jay warned.

"Light hurts."

Jay sighed. "Okay, I'll dim the lights and I'll be right back."

Jay dimmed the lights and walked out of the interrogation room and into the bullpen once more.

"Why's she not out yet?" Voight asked.

Jay rummaged around in his desk while he answered. "She said the light hurts her eyes, so I'm giving her these to wear." He held up a pair of sunglasses.

"Huh." Voight paused. "Take her home, Jay. You're done for the day. I don't expect to see you back here until Monday."

"Sarge, all due respect, but it's Wednesday and we're in the middle of a case."

"We'll be fine for one half-finished case without you, Jay. Y/N's family. Take care of her. Just think of it as of tomorrow, you get to have a four-day weekend."

"Can I get one of those four-day weekends?" Adam asked.

"No," Voight answered without skipping a beat. "Go take care of your sister, Halstead."

Jay nodded and then grabbed your backpack from the break room and then returned to his desk for his keys and jacket and then went back to the interrogation room.

"Y/N, we're gonna go home now," he whispered when he walked into the room.

"Yay," you said in a monotone voice and slowly lifted your head up and then rubbed your hands down your face.

"Put these on. They should help with the light."

You took the sunglasses from him and put them on. Then, you two slowly walked out of the room and outside of the district to his truck.

***

"So she's sensitive to light and sound?" Will asked Jay over the phone once Will had gotten off shift and realized his brother had called him concerning your headache.

"Yeah, pretty sure it's a migraine," Jay confirmed.

"She mention anything about nausea?"

"When we were driving home she did."

"Could also be that she started getting motion sick if it only happened in the car. I'll stop over and take a look. She eaten anything?"

"Just breakfast and a banana."

"Jesus, man. It's past five o'clock. She needs more than that!"

"I know, but she said it hurts to chew, so I didn't want to force her."

"Okay, I get it then. I'll pick up some food on my way. I'll get Panera Bread so I can get her some soup. Text me what you want."

"Okay, thanks, man. And Y/N likes--"

"--the cheese broccoli soup. I know, Jay, I know."

"Just checking."

Then, Jay hung up and started to look at the menu and then texted Will what he wanted. Now he just had to wait for Will to come over and hopefully fix you. Because Jay would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you.

***

"Thanks for coming, man," Jay said as he opened the door. "God, she's making me really worried."

"Whoa, it must be bad if you're admitting you're worried," Will joked and then set the bag of food on the counter.

"Dude, she was napping in an interrogation room because she said the table was cold and it felt good on her head! Damn right I'm worried!"

"Okay, just...get the food out and I'll go check her out. Hopefully, I can figure out what's making her get all these headaches. She mention headaches before now?"

"Yeah, for about the past week, week and a half. But, they've never been this bad. And, if they were, she hasn't told me."

"Okay, thanks. I'll see if she'll tell me more. She's gonna be okay."

Jay nodded and then Will made his way to your bedroom.

He opened the door to see that you were sound asleep with your blinds closed all the way. You had your fan on and had earplugs in, so he assumed that just wanted the fan on for the cool air and not the noise...and the noise was the reason you usually wanted it on.

Gently, Will touched your shoulder.

"Go away, Jay," you mumbled and rolled over to face the wall.

"It's not Jay, it's--" Will sighed when he realized you wouldn't be able to hear him because of the earplugs you had in. So, he settled on shaking your shoulder until you opened your eyes and realized it was him and not Jay.

You took out the earplugs.

"Can you fix it?" you asked. Then, you whimpered. "It hurts so bad."

Your lip started to tremble. You didn't want to cry because you knew it would make your migraine worse, but you couldn't stop the tears; you were so sick of these damn headaches and this migraine.

"When did they start?" Will asked and turned off the fan.

"Three weeks ago," you answered.

"Jay said only a week and a half."

"I didn't tell him. I thought they were from school stress, but they won't go away. Make it stop! Please! I can't- I can't even think straight anymore, Will."

You put your head in your hands and rubbed your temples.

"Have you been eating a lot of different foods? Getting too little sleep? Drinking too much caffeine? Weird periods?"

"No, none of that." You wanted to tell him that it was weird having him ask you about your period, but your head hurt so bad that you refrained.

"Okay, well, I think Jay's got the food ready, so do you think you can manage some cheese broccoli soup from Panera?"

You shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"That's good enough for me. C'mon."

You grabbed a pair of sunglasses from your bedside table next to you and then followed Will out into the hallway and then put the sunglasses on.

"How you doing?" Jay asked as he finished pouring everyone water.

You shrugged. "Still hurts."

"I'm sorry, but the bottle says you can't have anymore Tylenol yet."

You nodded and sat down and slowly started to eat your soup, sunglasses still on.

You started to eat and then realized your soup was kind of cold. You stood up.

"Soup cold?" Jay asked.

You nodded and put it in the microwave.

Then, something clicked in Will's head.

Cold.

Temperature.

"Barometric pressure," Will muttered. Then he looked up, a smile starting to spread across his face. "Barometric pressure," he repeated, this time louder.

"Bara-what-now?" Jay asked.

"It's essentially the air pressure when the weather changes," he explained. "Remember when Y/N was in elementary school and would have really bad allergies in the fall?"

"Yeah," Jay said. "What's this got to do with migraines?"

"Migraines start around adolescence and since she had allergies in the fall before, I'm fairly certain that this is why she's getting them."

"You know why?" you asked as you sat back down, your soup now warm. "Can you make them stop?"

"I think I do. But, we'd have to get you checked out tomorrow."

"Okay. Thank you. Get me an appointment."

A few days later, after lots of naps, soup, and tv when your headache/migraine decided to subside, you were put on corticosteroids for what were called "cluster headaches" in the medical field. You're only supposed to be on them for about two weeks and then you'd have to be reassessed. But, for now, your migraines had subsided and you could finally, finally think clearly.

***

Sorry About your Truck (age 18)

You didn't know what was happening. One second you were driving on the circle of the on-ramp to the highway, and the next, you fishtailed to the right. You spun your wheel to the left, maybe slammed on the brakes (which you knew you weren't supposed to do), and then slid to the right again. It all happened so fast that you didn't even know how it happened.

But, you knew how you got in this position.

"Fuck," you muttered as you put your hand up to the vent in your car the day before you left for school. Even though it was set to defrost, you still should've been able to feel some heat coming out. But you felt nothing. Well, nothing but cold air.

You trudged back inside to see Jay putting on his jacket.

"I think my heat in my car's broken," you said.

Jay looked at you and raised his eyebrows. "You probably just didn't turn it on."

"Yes, I did. And I double-checked. Come see."

So, Jay walked out to your car. And sure enough, your heat was broken.

"I'll drop you off at school and then we'll bring the car to the shop tonight. C'mon," Jay told you.

"I have to work tomorrow until 11," you said. "How am I supposed to go to work?"

Jay sighed. "I'll figure it out."

Because, he knew for a fact he couldn't let you drive without heat...not in these Chicago winters.

***

"Jay, man, you gotta go to sleep," Will told his younger brother.

"Dude, it's getting icy out!" Jay argued over the phone. "I'm staying awake until she gets home!"

Will sighed. "Fine. I know there's no changing your mind."

"Thank you. Now, I'm gonna see if I can find a hockey game happening on the west coast and watch that. I'll text you when she gets home."

"I don't need you to do that, but if it makes you feel better, feel free. God, you need to make your cop instincts chill for once."

***

You screamed. You didn't know what to do. One second you swerved to the left and then you swerved to the right. You tried to correct yourself again and get back on the road, but it wasn't working...not like it worked last time when you tried to go back the opposite way anyway. But, now, oh now you were more terrified than before...if that was even possible.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes as you heard the sounds of metal ripping through metal. Then, you felt yourself tumbling. You didn't know if you were screaming at this point, but you felt your knee jam into the dashboard and the next thing you knew, you were upside down with only your seatbelt keeping you in place and the broken glass from the windows had left a smattering of cuts along your body, with the deepest one being on your forehead.

You kept flailing your arms, trying to do something, anything to get you out. And then you heard the sound of sirens and the snow around you started turning blue.

Great...you had found the button to turn on Jay's sirens. Just great.

"Help!" you yelled.

You hoped that someone would call 911....but according to these sirens, you were 911.

***

"Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Truck 81, Engine 51, Battalion 25. Single vehicle car accident. Person trapped."

"Single vehicle?" Casey asked. "Why do they need all of us?"

"Beats me," Severide said. "But we're about to find out."

***

"A cop car?" Kelly asked as he furrowed his eyebrows on the way to the scene.

"Guess so, Lieutenant," Cruz said. "Looks like an undercover car to me, too."

As they got closer, Kelly noticed something. He knew that truck.

"Casey," he said into his radio, "that look like Jay Halstead's truck to you?"

Casey tilted his head. "You know, it actually does. Dispatch," he started, "this is Truck 81 to Main, can you get in contact with the 21st District and see if Jay Halstead is on duty tonight and then get back to us?"

"Copy that Truck 81."

They all pulled up to the scene and Boden started directing everyone.

"Squad, we need to get that victim out. Truck, help Squad with figuring out how to get the victim out. Chances are we'll have to cut the car and need all hands on deck. Engine, I need you on standby in case there's a gas leak and a fire starts. Sixty-One, do all you can."

They all said their "copy that's" in some form or another and then Casey, Stella, and all of Squad 3 went over to look at the truck.

"Help!" you yelled. "Somebody help me, please!" At this point, the blood from your forehead was dripping all over the roof of the truck. At least, since you were upside down, the blood wasn't going into your eyes. But, tears were rolling down your cheeks. You were terrified and your knee was in so much pain from being crushed up against the dash and your head was starting to burn where you had been cut by the glass.

"Main to Truck 81, Jay Halstead is not on duty tonight according to the 21st."

"It's not Halstead!" Casey yelled. "He's not on duty!"

They all raced up to the truck.

"I'm gonna climb up to the window and see how the victim's doing. I'll tell you what we need from there," Kelly said.

Then, with the help of Cruz and Capp, he got on top of the rolled-over vehicle.

"Help! Please help me!" you yelled.

"We're gonna get you out, don't worry!" Kelly yelled once he was close enough that he knew you'd be able to hear him.

You knew that voice.

Kelly looked down into the truck to see you straining your neck to look out the broken window and up to him.

"Don't move!" he ordered. He had no idea whether or not you had sustained injuries to your spinal cord.

"O- Okay," you whimpered. "I'm scared, Kelly."

"I know, I know. But we're gonna get you out of here. It'll all be okay." He turned his head so that it was back facing Squad, Casey, and Stella. "Casey!" he yelled. "I need you to tell Boden to get in touch with one of the Halsteads! It's Y/N!"

***

"Hello?" Jay asked sleepily into his phone. He had finally taken Will's advice and had tried to go to sleep...with a Vegas Golden Knights vs. Colorado Avalanche game playing in the background since that was the NHL game that was happening on the west coast right now.

"Halstead, it's Wallace Boden. Are you aware that your sister was driving your truck?"

At this, Jay sat up straight, sleep be damned. "She was. Why? What happened? Is she okay?"

He stood up and started pacing the room.

"Jay, I'm going to tell you the location and I need you to call Will and you both need to get here ASAP."

"Chief, all due respect, but you need to tell me what's going on."

"Y/N's been in a car accident. It's a roll-over crash. She's currently stuck in the car but conscious."

Everything Jay learned about bad news from your mom and dad passing, to his time in the military, to him being a cop flew out the window in that very moment.

"She's been in a crash? Can they get her out? Tell me they're gonna get her out, Chief! They have to!"

"Jay, my men are doing everything they can. But right now, you need to call your brother and you need to get to this location as fast as possible."

"Okay, yeah, yeah. I can do that."

Then, Jay quickly hung up.

After calling Will four times in a row, he finally picked up.

"Dude, I'm about to be in surgery, what's--"

"Y/N's been in a car accident. We need to go there now."

Will almost dropped his phone.

"What? How? When?"

"I don't know, all I know is that Boden called me and told me to get to the scene ASAP. I'll pick you up on the way."

Then, without waiting for Will's response, Jay hung up the phone and dialed a number he never thought he'd be calling off duty: his new partner, Hailey Upton.

"Hailey, it's Jay. I need a favor."

***

"Capp!" Kelly yelled. "We need to cut through the seat to get it off from the floor because that's currently the ceiling! Squad and 81, we need to cut the back of the truck so we can get her out of here! 51, figure out how to kill these sirens! And, Brett, I need you to come up here and take a look so you can tell me the best way to get her out of here!"

Sylvie Brett started sprinting over to the truck with her jump bag and then Casey and Cruz helped her onto the truck and Kelly gave her his hand to make sure she got all the way up there safely.

"Y/N, I'm Sylvie. Do you remember me?" she asked calmly.

"Uh-huh," you answered, trying your best not to move your head like had Kelly told you.

"I bet your leg hurts really bad, huh?"

"Not, not really," you answered.

Sylvie and Kelly shared a look. They knew what this was: you were going into shock.

"Hand me that flashlight," Sylvie said to Kelly. He handed it to her. "Yeah, she's tensing her leg muscles, which is probably why she can't feel it. She's still having an adrenaline rush since she seems to unconsciously tensing them. We'll still give her pain meds as soon as we can because when the pain wears off, it's gonna hurt.

"For now, I need to get a C-collar on her and when she gets out, I need her on a backboard and I need that leg in a splint. Try your best not to do any sudden movements that can hurt her leg even more than it already is. By the looks of it, I'm assuming she shattered her knee cap."

"Got the bolt cutters, Severide!" Capp yelled.

"Got the saw, too!" Casey yelled. "I think we should start by cutting the end of the truck, sound good?"

"Yeah, that works!" He took off his turnout coat and handed it to Brett. "Get in there, get a C-collar on her, and cover her with this while we cut the end of the truck. Close your eyes and cover your head with your jacket. Yell to me when you're ready."

"Why aren't you going in there?" Sylvie asked as she positioned herself to jump through the window and down into the truck.

"I don't think I could fit through that window."

"You never know," Sylvie said and then slipped down and into the truck.

"They're gonna cut it?" you asked frantically. "But what if they hurt me?"

"Y/N, it's okay. They won't hurt you. They're professionals. They've done this hundreds of times. But, I need you to stay calm for me. I'm gonna put this C-collar around your neck and cover you with this coat so that debris doesn't get in your eyes." She didn't mention the cut on your forehead and at the moment, she hoped you weren't feeling it.

Sylvie got the C-collar around your neck to stabilize it and then she put the turnout coat over you and pulled hers over her head. "Ready!" she yelled to Kelly.

You started hearing the sound of metal being cut. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, but at the same time, you couldn't feel anything at all.

***

"There it is!" Jay pointed from the passenger seat of Hailey's car. The hospital had been on their way to the scene, so they grabbed Will on the way. Jay was thankful because he knew that the hospital would be close if you needed to go there.

Will was practically standing up in the backseat so that he could jump out of the car as quickly as possible. He needed to make sure you were okay.

Hailey had barely put the car in park when both Halsteads jumped out.

"Chief!" Jay yelled. "Where is she?"

"She's still in the car. They're trying--"

"They're trying?" Jay yelled angrily, cutting Chief Boden off. "If she's not out yet and it's been this long then they sure as hell aren't trying! I swear to God if--"

"Jay!" Will yelled and stepped in front of him and gave him a shove to push him away from Boden. "You need to calm down!"

"Calm down? Don't tell me to fucking calm down! Our sister's in a roll-over crash and you're telling me to calm down?"

"I understand you're upset," Boden started, "but you two shouldn't even be here right now. And, if you don't want to be pushed back behind the yellow tape, I suggest you calm down."

Jay glared at Boden but kept his mouth shut.

Jay started walking away and then locked eyes with Stella. He picked up his pace. Will tried to pull him back because he had a feeling he knew what he was going to do, but he was too late.

"Stella!" he yelled. "What's happening? You gotta tell me what's going on in there. Please."

Stella sighed. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. But, she knew if it was anyone in her family, hell if it was Kelly or anyone else in Firehouse 51, she'd want to know what was going on, too.

"She's upside down, hanging from her seat. Her knee's jammed up against the dash. She's still conscious, but they have to get her out."

There was a loud creaking sound that caused everyone to turn their attention back to the scene.

They had sawed through the back half of the truck and were now going in.

"Casey, Kelly," Stella said into her radio, "can I get an update on the situation? Jay and Will are here and they just want to know."

"We just gotta get the chair down, Kidd," Casey's voice came from her radio. "She's still conscious. She's scared, but she should get out fine."

Jay looked up at the sky while Will sighed in relief.

You'd be getting out of there just fine.

***

The next few hours were a blur of you getting out of the truck and being taken by ambulance to Chicago Med (Will rode with you because of Jay's fear of needles), and you being in knee surgery.

Jay and Will had to wait outside while you were in surgery. And they were beside themselves.

"God, I shouldn't have let her take my truck," Jay vented as he was pacing the waiting area with his hands on his head.

"You couldn't have known it was gonna snow like this. It wasn't supposed to snow like this," Will comforted.

"How do you do it?" Jay asked.

Will furrowed his eyebrows. "Do what?"

"Stay so calm? Like, when we were at the scene, you were so calm when I was absolutely losing it."

"I don't know, I really don't. Maybe I realized that being pissed wasn't going to help anyone. But, when I heard Stella and Casey tell us what was going on, I knew she was going to be okay. There were no injuries to the abdomen, chest, or head--well, except for that laceration on her forehead--and she was conscious. I just knew."

"So you're telling me, you thought logically with medical knowledge?" Jay asked. He had absolutely no idea such a sophisticated sentence would ever make its way out of his mouth, but hey, there was a time and place for everything.

"That and I knew you'd be pissed, so I knew I'd have to at least be calm enough to calm you down...or hold you back."

"There it is."

***

You woke up an hour later. You blinked, trying to remember what happened, and then it all came rushing back. The fishtailing...the screaming...Kelly talking to you...the sound of metal being cut...

You took a deep breath.

This alerted your brothers that you were awake.

"Hey, how was being under?" Will asked jokingly. You had always asked what it felt like to be under anesthesia and Will said he couldn't really explain it; he said you'd just have to find out some time.

"It was a nice nap," you answered.

Will laughed. "I bet it was. Feeling better?"

"Tired," you yawned.

"Well, it is just past four in the morning, so that makes sense."

You looked at Jay. "I'm sorry about your truck. I was just going down the exit ramp and it happened so fast and--"

"Hey, hey," Jay said quickly and stood up. "It's okay. It's just a truck, it's replaceable; you, kiddo, are not."

Will smiled. "Borrowing a line from Mom's book when we both inevitably got in our first car accidents, I see."

Your finger started to move toward the stitches on your forehead.

"No, no, no," Will said quickly. "Don't touch them!"

You kept running your finger over them. "But they feel funny."

"That's because you haven't gotten them before. They'll feel even funnier if you pop one and me or someone else has to redo them."

Your stomach grumbled.

"Okay, what do you want to eat?" Will asked. He handed you a cup of water, too because he figured that if you were hungry, that you'd be thirsty as well.

You took a few sips and then answered. "Olive Garden."

Jay laughed. "Olive Garden isn't open at four am."

You pursed your lips to the side, thinking about what you wanted. "Pizza."

"I'll go have someone grab you some," Will said.

"Maybe send Adam because he can just call the cafeteria lady darlin' and then just like that,--" Jay snapped his fingers---, "she'll get an extra piece for free," Jay suggested.

"Adam's here?" you asked.

"Everyone's here," Jay answered. "They all wanted to make sure that you were okay...and the 21st also got called to see if I was on duty since it was my truck."

"If it makes you guys feel any better, I don't think I'll be driving for a while."

"That's okay. Voight gave me a few weeks off to look after you while you're recovering and I think Goodwin's letting Will cut down his hours."

"What he means Y/N, is that you'll be stuck with us telling you not to try to walk for a few weeks," Will said.

"Uh," you groaned.

Will and Jay both laughed. "I'm gonna go see if Adam can get you that pizza," Will said. He was almost out the door when he added, "you better not touch your stitches while I'm gone."

The next few weeks was a blur of doing all your schoolwork at home--and a lot of times, from the couch--, Jay and Will scolding you if you so much as tried to bend your leg, lots of movies and tv shows (and Jay and Will always let you pick because you couldn't really do much while you were laid up at home), and convincing Jay to buy you lots of Oreos and cheddar popcorn. And if he didn't...well, you'd just text Will (luckily you had insurance on your phone and could get a new one without paying a lot after the crash) and he'd bring you your Oreos and cheddar popcorn. After the first two weeks, Jay just had to live with the fact that he was outnumbered when it came to you and your favorite snacks.

***

Rough Shift (age 21)

Trigger warning for mentions of suicidal ideation!

You sat at Molly's finishing up your second pomegranate martini...and it was only 6 pm. You waved Stella over to have her make you another one.

"Y/N, I know you drove here. I can't in good conscience give you another drink. Hell, I didn't even want to give you the last one! But, I can get you a pop if you want? Or lemonade?"

"Stella," you whined. "I just want another drink. It's been a really rough day at work. Please, just make me another one."

"You know I can't do that. What happened at work? Maybe it'll help to talk about it. We've all had rough shifts before and talking about it or crying it out usually helps."

"I can't really cry it out right in the middle of a bar." You took a shaky breath. "Even though, I really wish I could." Tears started to sting your eyes. You couldn't cry. Not here. "I think I'm gonna go have that cry." You set some money on the bar. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, Y/N, I'm your girl."

"Thanks, Stella."

Then, you left Molly's. But, you didn't go straight home. You decided to go to the store instead. And all you bought there was a bottle of peach Moscato.

Time to get buzzed enough to forget for the time being.

***

When you got home, you popped some food in the microwave since you hadn't eaten since basically breakfast save for some beef jerky and an apple, and unscrewed the cap to the wine you had just bought. Normally, you wouldn't buy a ton of alcohol for yourself because you'd just take Jay or Hailey's drinks if she brought any over (yes, you still lived with Jay because college is ridiculously expensive and you were trying to get out of school with as little debt as possible...if any), but those two were on a camping trip on Lake Michigan for the weekend. You were supposed to go, but then you had to work. So, Will ended up going instead. He said maybe he'd meet a girl up there and you just laughed.

You took a few sips of your wine and then realized that maybe you should call your brothers. You knew this wasn't healthy and you felt like everything was coming down on you at once: the stories you heard at work, being in the hospital, currently just being physically and emotionally exhausted and hungry.

So, you dialed Jay's number.

"Hey, Y/N, what's up?" he asked. He put the phone on speaker so he could finish adding wood to the campfire he was building for him, Hailey, and Will to roast hot dogs over.

"It's just, it's been a really bad day," you said, your voice cracking.

Will was near him and he looked at Jay worriedly.

"Why's that?" Jay asked.

"I- I had to go the hospital with a girl because she- because she said she was going to kill herself." Tears were currently rolling down your cheeks. You had kept it together all day and now you were crumbling.

Working in a group home you knew things like this were bound to happen, but you didn't know they'd happen in your first two months there. And, to make matters worse, you got the email when you were driving into work, so you really had no idea what was going on. When you got to work, you were told you had to go to Lakeshore Memorial Hospital because a girl was saying she was going to kill herself the night before. And, you didn't have the staff to get her back inside safely, so, as is protocol, the shift lead the shift before yours had to call emergency services to take her to the hospital. You didn't know about any of this until you got to work when you were debriefed and then told you'd have to go to the hospital.

God, you knew this happened but nothing prepared you for sitting in that dark room with her all shift, the monitors beeping, telling you that she was still alive. You had done some homework and you had talked with her, gotten more information about why she did it. You had read her file, but she really seemed to open up to you and told you more. And, what broke your heart the most was that, since she was in a group home, she had no family. So, you did your best to sit with her the entire shift, only leaving to go to the bathroom, get some water, or make a phone call to your shift lead. Because, even if you were doing homework and she was sleeping or just sitting in silence, you knew it helped to have someone there with you. And, you knew if it was you in that position, you'd want someone to be there with you.

"Are you okay?" Jay asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"No," you admitted. "I don't want to be alone."

Jay sighed. There was nothing he could really do for you at this point. "Y/N--"

"I'll grab my stuff and I'll be there in an hour and half, Y/N," Will interjected.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want you wasting your weekend off--"

"Y/N," Will began, "it's fine. I'll see you soon."

***

Will walked inside carrying a bag of McDonald's.

He walked into the living room to see you sipping wine out of the bottle. You weren't even halfway through it yet. You were just a little buzzed because you had drank the martinis a couple of hours ago. So, now you needed to get more buzzed to forget about your horrible shift. Normally you never did this: drink to forget. But today, well today, you deemed it warranted.

"Y/N, at least pour it in a glass," Will sighed and then sat down next to you and set the bag of food on the coffee table in front of you.

"Why's it matter? I'm the only one who drinks Moscato; you and Jay say it's too sweet."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to drink too much."

"But I just wanna forget what happened, Will," you said as you turned to face him. You started to cry. "She's just a kid. She shouldn't be going through this. Hell, she shouldn't have gone through what happened to her in her past! She didn't deserve it!"

Will wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug while you cried. He knew because of confidentiality reasons that you couldn't tell him any more than you had just told him and what you mentioned on the phone.

"I know, I know," he soothed.

"I know she didn't- she didn't die," you cried. "But, God, it feels like I got my first death."

"And, crying about it is nothing to be ashamed of," Will said. "When I had my first patient death, I went home and did exactly what you did: cried and drank until I couldn't think straight, much less think about what happened at work."

You pulled away. You didn't think Will ever cried over something that happened at work. "You did?"

"Hand to God, I did."

"How do you cope with this stuff all the time?"

"You do the best you can with the knowledge you have. You talk to somebody about how you're feeling and you don't drown yourself in drinking, drugs, or sex." He moved your bottle of wine. "You cope in healthy ways. And, sooner or later, you realize that you can't save everybody. And, that you can't change the past.

"You can't change what happened in this girl's past to make her end up in a group home or have these intrusive thoughts, but you can help change her future by being there for her and listening to her, and helping her get to a better place."

"That's what I want to do."

"Good, then you're in the right place to do that. You just have to focus on your wins and not your losses."

You pulled away and wiped your hands across your face to get rid of the tears. "Thank you for coming home. I, uh, I really needed that."

Will nodded. "You're welcome. I wished someone would've told me that earlier in medical school and I didn't want you to feel like I felt."

"Is that why you decided to come home and not Jay?"

"Part of the reason."

You raised an eyebrow. "And the other part?"

"I figured Jay and Hailey could use a night all to themselves."

"Gross!" You faked gagged and Will laughed.

"I don't know if you'll be able to eat now that I mentioned that, but how about we try and we can watch a funny movie?"

"I like that idea."

And, even though you really wanted to get buzzed to forget about the day you had, you knew it was better for you to talk about it with Will and eat takeout and watch a movie with him. And, you were pretty sure you felt better after that than you would if you drank an entire bottle of wine by yourself.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading! Sorry this one took so long, but I'm in school and working, so updates won't be as frequent as they were in the summer. And finally, please remember to like/reblog and comment! I love reading your comments! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

backyard bbq party [bucky barnes]

Summary: You're a college student who hates visiting home. Bucky is new to town and works with your dad. Your mom thinks you need a break from studying and your dad thinks Bucky needs help meeting new people. Smut ensures. 4.5k SMUT

Warnings: Age gap, flirting in inappropriate circumstances, dirty talk, oral - m. receiving, Bucky is cocky and sees right through you, D/s vibes (but not really), very little Daddy kink (one mention), unedited.

A/n: I don't think I have to mention this, but 18+ please!!! Please reblog and lmk if you liked it ❤

"Hun-" your mother warmly called as she approached you, a transparent plastic container filled with freshly seasoned raw pieces of meat, in her hands, "Take this to your father, ok?"

With unmistakable disgust on your face, you still faked a smile - all for her sake and took the container from her. It was heavy and you did your best to look anywhere but at it as you crossed the backyard, approaching your dad. He was with his back at you, facing the grill, and a man - which you barely noticed at first, stood by his side.

"Dad?" you sighed, "Mom said you should make these right now"

Their conversation stopped in an instant, and the two men turned to face you.

A smile instantly made its way onto your dad's face, "Didn't think you girls would be done so fast" he commented.

You just shrugged, knowing damn well you did not help prepare the food in any way. However, your eyes landed on the man behind your dad. He was tall, definitely well built, his shirt a size too small and his eyes shamelessly boring into yours.

You fell under his spell in under a second. Or maybe he fell under yours. Something definitely happened. A switch flipped inside your brain, and you knew you'd have to work hard to not allow yourself to do, or at least try to do, anything stupid at your parents party.

His eyes trailed lower down your body, and judging by the way he fought back a grin, it was clear what he had in mind.

In order to keep things from getting awkward, his lips parted into a dazzling smile, as he extended his hand to you, "You must be, Y/n. I'm James Barnes. You can call me Bucky. Or Buck"

"Oh, yeah!" you dad smiled, "You two haven't met! James is the best damn mechanical engineer I've ever seen"

"You work together?" you squinted your eyes, "I never heard of you before"

"He just moved to the state" you father added, and Bucky nodded in agreement, his hand still slowly shaking yours.

Feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, you smiled and excused yourself, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes. I'll go now, see if mom needs any more help"

Bucky's eyes didn't leave your frame as you walked away, however you barely managed to take a couple of steps before you heard your mother's voice. "Y/n, baby? Can you go grab the glasses?"

"How many?"

"12" she responded in an instant, and then you took off towards the house.

It was dead silent inside. The house was empty, and already a mess. You took off your sandals and walked over to the cabinets above the sink, pulled out a tray and started looking for the fancy glasses your mother saved for special occasions.

You must've grabbed about 3 or 4 when a deep voice startled you, "Need any help?"

You lightly jumped in surprise, but hoped he didn't notice. "No, it's ok, thank you, though"

"Ok" Bucky mumbled, and you heard the smugness in his tone.

Unable to fight your instincts, you turned around and looked at him over your shoulder. Leaning against the wall with a small bottle of beer in his hand, he sent you a mischievous wink which almost brought a lump to your throat.

You hurried to turn around and keep gathering the glasses your mother asked for, struggling more and more with each one. When you cleared the first shelf, it was obvious you'd need help reaching the ones higher up, but you weren't about to ask Bucky. Instead, you hiked your dress up your thighs and pushed one of your knees on top of the counter, lifting yourself up just enough to reach the remaining glasses.

"Careful up there," Bucky laughed, walking over to you.

On a normal day, your palms wouldn’t be shaking and you wouldn't even think about the possibility of dropping a glass or falling off the counter. But he was too close, taking way too much satisfaction from seeing you struggling to maintain your balance. Not to mention the skirt, and the way almost all the skin of your thighs was on display for him.

"You could've asked me to help, you know?" he taunted, taking one more step towards you. There were barely a few inches separating your bodies now, and although you were sure it was your mind playing tricks on you, the heat from his body flooded your senses. He was too close. Too smug, looking at you. But the last straw was when he placed his left hand on the counter, inches away from your knee. That was when you noticed the prosthetic arm as the metallic sound of its vibranium plates overlapping grabbed your full attention. After a momentary lapse of composure, you looked into his eyes but all he did was raise his eyebrows. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Uh, it's ok" you shook your head, turning back to look at the cabinet. "Just five more"

For the remaining glasses, you grabbed them from the shelf, handing them to Bucky to place them on the tray.

When you were finally done, with a gentle grab of your hips, Bucky helped you off the counter, his hands lingering against the thin material of your dress for a bit too long. But you didn't mind. His touch burned and under his gaze, you found yourself turning around to face him, the proximity being nothing other than obscene especially if you were to take into consideration the age gap, and how you met him.

But that was 20 minutes ago. A moment not so conveniently interrupted by your mother barging in, wondering what was taking you so long. Bucky helped you carry the glasses to the table outside, and after that, you parted ways.

Even though he went back to the rest of the men gathered around the grill, your mind remained fixed on him. You found it almost impossible not to look for him every other minute, and the fact that he managed to catch you staring everytime, made the butterflies in your stomach go even crazier.

And then it took a little bit of devious and manipulative work on your part - to convince your aunt she got the wrong seat. You told her there was a seating plan, and that she was supposed to sit next to your mum. That opened up a seat left of Bucky, and since that seating plan was as unreal as your chances with him, or so you thought, you had to make sure the seat wouldn't be taken by someone else. And you didn't want to make it obvious - didn't want him to know you only chose that spot after figuring out it was right next to his. So you sprinted back into the house, grabbed your purse and placed it on the chair, pushing it as close as you could to the table, so no one could see it. Maybe it's been there for hours, even before any of the guests even showed up. Who'd know?

But of course, once the food had been served and you were all seated, you had to play your cards right. All your confidence seemed to have vanished ever since Bucky took his seat next to you. Casually sipping his beer, having a taste out every single type of food laid out in front of him, cracking jokes every now and then, and the glimpses… And the winks... And the way whenever he had to turn in your direction, his eyes would first land on you, and only then travel to the person he was having a conversation with.

But that was just the start. Soon enough, his attention was more and more directed towards you. His arm on the back of your chair. His jokes solely for you.

When you figured it was your time to make the next move, after giggling at one of the stupid puns he just made, you cleared your throat and scanned the table. "James, where did you get the olives? Can you hand me the bowl please? I can't see it"

"Oh, yeah" he said, pushing himself up to grab them for you. But conveniently, the bowl was empty. "There aren't any left, doll." he announced after settling back in his seat.

"That's ok" you smiled, ready to stand up, "I'll go see if there are any inside"

The "No" he whispered was way too low for you to hear, but his metal hand grabbing your thigh and pinning you down in your chair got the message across. You turned to look at him confused, but your plan was already going in a completely different and indisputably better direction.

"Here-" Bucky said, using his fork to pick up one of the olives on his plate. "I'm full anyway"

"Thanks" you nervously laughed, raising your hand to grab the utensil, but he stopped you.

"Open up"

Only for a second did you stop to consider just how bad of an idea that was, but you hurriedly pushed the thought aside and opened your mouth. Your eyes met his as you lowered yourself and grabbed the olive with your teeth, barely managing to hide your enthusiasm as you slipped it off his fork.

"Good?" Bucky asked.

You nodded, "Very. Thank you"

"No problem, doll"

After that, you returned to your plate - some cheese and salad left. None of them looked too appetising right now, you knew what you wanted - two things, but only one of them would be acceptable. So, you lazily gathered some salad leaves into your fork, and turned to Bucky. "Can I have one more?"

"Hm?" he muttered, removing the beer bottle from his lips and looking at you confused.

"One more olive? Can I?"

Instantly, he smiled. "What was that?"

"Can I have one more-" and when his amused smile turned into a devious grin, you realised what he actually wanted from you. "Please?"

He still wasn't satisfied so he just raised his eyebrows, telling you to try again.

"James? Can I please have one more olive?"

"Of course" he taunted.

You didn't know what you expected, of course you'd have to eat this one out of his fork too. However, this time, he didn't bother helping you at all, instead making you lean all the way into him to grab it.

"Thanks"

"And call me Bucky, ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Bucky"

As much as you wanted to keep this game going, the atmosphere around the table shifted. Even though your parents were seated at the other end of the table and on the same side, making it impossible for them to see what you were up to, you still felt like you crossed one too many lines.

When your demeanour changed, so did Bucky's. He leaned back in his seat, shifting uncomfortably for a couple of minutes, until he decided to stand up, announcing he was grabbing another drink for himself. You wanted to ask him to bring one for you too, but before you even managed to get a word out, he was already sprinting towards the house.

In his absence, you tried to calm yourself down and regain your composure, but there was only one thing on your mind. Him. So, against your better judgement, you left your seat at the table too, innocently heading towards the house.

There you found Bucky, leaning almost all the way in into the fridge, scavenging for another beer. The man emptied your dad's stash before the second course was even served.

"Whatcha looking for?" you beamed, walking up beside him.

"There's no more beer left" he announced, straightening his back and turning to face you. "I guess I'll have some water"

"I can go and see if there's any in the basement" you offered, "Or you could always go for something stronger"

"What do you suggest?"

"What are you into?"

"What am I into?" Bucky laughed.

"Whiskey?" you questioned, walking around him to open the liquor cabinet. "I hate this rum so I don't recommend it." You grabbed another bottle, "This vodka is amazing, no headaches the morning after."

"That won't be a problem" Bucky chuckled, leaning against the counter. "I'll have whatever you wanna give me"

"You seem like a whiskey kinda guy, is that ok?"

He nodded in approval, and then watched you pad around the kitchen, grabbing a glass and some ice. "What makes me look like a whiskey kind of guy?"

You took a deep breath, weighing your next words. "Rugged, tall.. handsome. Not my age." You shrugged. "Whiskey". Before allowing him to comment on that, you spoke up again. "What kind of drink do I remind you of?"

He pondered for a second, his eyes studying your every move. "One of those overly sweet girly cocktails, that has way more alcohol than my whiskey, but it's masked by all the syrups and preservatives inside it"

"Really?" you laughed out loud, handing him his glass.

Bucky smiled as he took it from you, raising it as if making a toast, and then took a sip. He licked his lips and sent you an approving nod.

Slowly, you both turned around and started walking out of the kitchen, but unlike you - Bucky stopped in the middle of the house, his voice urging you to do the same. "I'll go out front for a cigarette"

"Can I come, too?" you asked, heart beating out of your chest.

"Please" He urged you, stepping aside and allowing you to walk in front of him.

With a hand on your waist, he followed you out the front door. It was quiet, the sun shining a bit too bright for your liking.

You skipped down the stairs onto the pavement, but he stopped and sat down. Bucky spread his legs wide and motioned for you to come in front of him. After you did, with a gentle tug on your hand, he got you to kneel, one step below him.

"Want a cigarette, doll?" he asked, leaning back to retrieve the pack and lighter from his jeans pocket.

"No, thanks"

"Don't smoke?"

"Not if there isn't at least a mile between me and my parents" you giggled, placing your hands on his knees.

"Why?" he raised an eyebrow, lighting up his cigarette and taking a puff. You watched the smoke dissipate to the side, only to have your attention grabbed by him when he placed his free hand on your shoulder. "You're an adult. Have been for years. You live on your own. Why not?"

As he spoke, his fingers curled around the strap of your dress, nonchalantly pulling it down.

You swallowed thickly, but due to the way he was making you feel, you decided to ignore his action. "What they don't know, can't hurt them, right?"

"Mhm" Bucky agreed, taking another puff and then moving to play with the other strap. "So I was right?"

"About what?"

He shook his head, "Nevermind"

"Tell me!" you whined, pushing yourself up against him. His thighs completely framed your body as you closed the distance between the two of you. "Tell me!"

"Nope" he grinned, his proud smile inches away from your hungry lips.

"Bucky, come on" you pleaded, framing his face into your palms, "Tell me, please"

"No, doll-" he dismissed you, turning his head to the side to smoke. After blowing up the smoke, he threw the cigarette into the ashtray, his hands coming up around your body to rest on your ass.

"Pretty please?" you whined.

"Don't push me" he threatened, his grip on your ass tightening to the point where you almost whimpered out loud. Instead, your eyes just opened wide and you bit your lips.

"Ok" you sighed, playfully defeated, "Ok, fine. Don't tell me. But now I'm sad"

"Of course you are, doll" Bucky laughed, grabbing your chin. "I can tell how sad you are. You're not almost bursting into laughter at all"

"Shut up!" you scoffed, slapping his side, but he interrupted your antics with another rough squeeze of your ass.

Unable to keep calm anymore, you dragged your hands up his thighs, stopping inches away from his member. When you looked up to see his reaction, Bucky was already watching you.

"Can I?" you pouted.

"Stand up"

"Why-"

"Stand up" he commanded again, slapping your ass before you stood up and settled in front of him. "Take your panties off, doll"

"Here!?" you gasped, "What if anyone-"

"No one's gonna see you if you keep quiet and shuffle out of them like a good girl"

With your heart panging in the back of your throat, you slowly reached under your dress and pulled your underwear down. The feeling of cotton slipping down your legs made your shiver, and by the time your panties fell to the ground, Bucky had already stood up.

Wordlessly, you grabbed them from the floor and handed them to him, "Good girl" he nodded and then stepped out of the way, motioning for you to head inside.

You did so without any further form of complaint, determined to have your way with him by the end of the party. Dessert hadn't been served yet, so you knew there was still time to get to him.

But once you stepped into the house, you barely managed to make it past the hallway before Bucky grabbed your elbow and dragged you to the side. He forcefully pushed you into the small bathroom by the guest room, slamming the door behind him and locking it in one smooth movement.

Now it all made sense. Nerves and anxiety washed over you, but the good kind. You were bursting with emotion, shivering from every joint as your juices finally started running down your legs. You licked your lips and waited for instructions from him, ready to do absolutely anything he'd tell you to.

"Why don't you show me what you're made out of, hm? I wanna see how fast you can make me cum with that pretty little mouth of yours"

And that was all you needed to hear before you dropped to your knees in front of him, drooling like a good little girl as you watched him undo his pants. Your eagerness got the best of you. He looked divine, especially from that angle. His thick thigh inches away from your face, his metal hand playing with his belt, his hungry eyes staring down at you, his rugged breathing and the perverse view of his cock straining against his clothes.

Thank god he was fast, because you didn't know how to control yourself anymore.

When he finally pushed his underwear down and leaned against the wall, you were ready to show him what you were capable of. You wrapped your arms around him, settling your palms on the back of his thighs and sloppily took his cock into your mouth.

"Holy shit-" he cried out loud when you first sucked on his tip, bucking his hips and clenching his thighs.

Eagerly working him from between hollowed cheeks and with your tongue pressed to the underside of his hardening member, you proceeded to look up, innocently blinking at him. The corner of Bucky's mouth tilted upwards, perfectly expressing the immense amount of satisfaction he was getting.

When the strain on your neck became noticeable, you slipped his cock out of your mouth and wrapped your hand around his base. With delicate and experienced flicks of your tongue against his slit, you worked on shattering his self control, getting more and more wet as his breathing started to accelerate.

"Fuck, Y/n, you little slut-" he gasped, bringing his hand to rest on the top of your head.

You knew what he wanted, but it wasn't his turn to make decisions. Instead, you ignored his gesture and lowered yourself further between his legs, wrapping your lips around his balls. You sucked slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure that you hoped would drive him up the walls.

"Doll, so good. So, so fucking good" he panted, his cock nearly twitching in your hand as you kept pumping along the length.

Pulling back when your neck needed a break, you settled in front of him again, this time mouth open, and placed his tip on your tongue. No physical pleasure from that, but no amount of shadow could hide the pure bliss in his features. Just having you there, on your knees, with his cock on your tongue, was exactly what he needed to see.

"Come on, baby. It's not gonna suck itself" Bucky grunted, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You nodded eagerly, but he stopped you before taking him back into your mouth. "All the way down, ok? Take my cock all the way down your throat, and when you feel like you can't anymore, go a little further"

You nodded again.

"And don't worry, I'm here to help you, doll"

You wanted to mumble a 'Thank you' but didn't get to, since he hurriedly curled his fingers around your roots and forced your head down his cock.

The feeling of your throat expanding around him reached your core in no time, making you shiver under his hold. You crumbled to the floor, your knees weak from the sheer feeling of it all, blinking wearily as he kept you down.

A mere few seconds had passed before, out of nowhere, Bucky pushed you off of him and looked to the door, eyes wide with shock.

"What happened?" you mumbled, wiping your chin.

"Thought I heard something"

"You locked the door" you reminded him, "No one's gonna catch us. And that's a bit of a shame, if you ask me"

"Huh?" Bucky frowned.

"I wouldn't mind people seeing me with your balls in my mouth"

His mouth fell open. "You dirty, little whore"

Wrapping your hand around his cock, you licked his tip and looked up, "Don't act like you don't like that about me"

"I absolutely fucking love it" Bucky scoffed, "Don't know what could have possible made you think I don't like it"

"I was just saying"

"Just.. stop talking. Put that mouth to better use for me, ok?"

"Yes, Daddy" you teased and wrapped your lips around his tip again.

"You little-" Bucky started cursing as he shook his head in disbelief, before a rapid knock against the wooden door made your heart stop.

"Buck?" your father's voice echoed around the bathroom, "You in there?"

Without even thinking twice, Bucky forced you back all the way down on his cock, completely blocking your air supply.

"Yeah! I'm in here!" he yelled as you struggled to keep quiet and muffle the way your body desperately begged for air.

"Have you seen Y/n?"

"Nope"

The panic that was running through your veins had your oxygen burning faster than normal, the tears in your eyes being the first sign of it.

"I can't find her anywhere" you dad went on.

No matter how much you tried and how much training you had, in that moment right there, you found it impossible to fight your gag reflex. Before you knew it, a choked down whimper erupted from your throat, forcing Bucky to cough, loudly, hoping to cover you.

"I haven't seen her, man. But, urgh-" The way your throat convulsed around his cock made Bucky weak too, way too close to his release to be able to sound inconspicuous. "Can I- can I have some pr- privacy now? Please? Just - just a sec"

"Are you feeling ok? Do you need-"

"I'm fine!" Bucky yelled. "I'll be out in a sec"

It was not like you were able to hear anything or even concentrate, but as soon as it was clear, Bucky let you off his cock, as he fell back against the wall and you stumbled into the sink.

Gasping for air, you heaved under his stare, eyes wide in shock. "You know I could've kept perfectly quiet without your cock blocking my throat"

"Where's the fun in that?" he panted, getting ready to finish on his own.

"No!" you stopped him, crawling back to him, "Let me!!"

"Just open your mouth" he grunted, and you obeyed.

It took him approximately 30 seconds to reach his orgasm, his hot cum landing perfectly on your awaiting tongue. His moaning and his breathing, and the way his face contorted through endless expressions of pure bliss, had you neatly coming yourself.

When he was done and after you proudly swallowed all that he had to offer, you stood up to fix your lipstick while Bucky cleaned and dressed himself back up.

"Your best friend called. She's having an emergency, you need to get there as soon as possible"

"What-?" you gasped, confused for just a second before you realised there was no way that could have been true.

"Yeah, and I'm not feeling well, so I'll head home. I can drop you off if you want"

And that was what you told your parents. That they couldn't find you earlier because you were talking on the phone with your best friend, reassuring her that everything would be fine and that you'd meet her as soon as possible.

Your parents weren't happy about it, but they didn't shy away from thanking Bucky a million times for offering to drive you. After a sappy round of goodbyes and promises to visit more often from now on, your parents finally returned to the party while Bucky led you to his car.

Once you got in, you didn't even manage to put your seat belt on before Bucky grabbed your chin and forced his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth, tasting every inch of you. He dominated the kiss as you melted in his hold, moaning against his lips before he pulled away.

"Been waiting to do that since I first laid eyes on you"

"What stopped you?"

"Had a feeling it wasn't a good idea" he laughed, starting the engine, "Saw what you did to my dick. It was all pink. Don't know how I would've explained lipstick all over my face to your parents"

"Well, excuse me for not wearing blow job proof lipstick to my parents barbecue"

"You're forgiven" Bucky teased, squeezing your thigh as he pulled out of the driveway.

"But why are we leaving though?" you questioned, "You know I have my own room upstairs, right?"

"I know, I know.. but next time we're nearly getting caught, I don't want it to be by anyone who's seen you in diapers"

You burst into laughter, "Oh god, you're right, yeah, that makes a lot of sense! But where are we going?"

"You'll see"

Please reblog if you enjoyed this and hmu with concepts!!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n

1K notes · View notes

azaleavi · 3 years

Text

“All of the songs are about you”

Requested by anon: Hi, first of all I want to thank you for all your amazing work that you share with us, I absolutely adore everything that you write!!! Secondly, I was wondering if I could request something with Sebastian, where reader is a famous singer and younger than him, and when they reveal their relationship, people start saying that he is only using her and he gets worried that she will leave him for someone her age. Once again, thank you! 😚

Word count: 2k

Author's note: Thank you for your kind words dear nonnie! I hope you like it.

Warning(s): language

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

Both of you being famous wasn't easy with you being a singer and Sebastian being an actor. Especially when you wanted to keep your relationship a secret and you were quite younger than him. You have been dating for a while now and you couldn't be more in love with him. He was your muse for many of your songs, but the fans didn't know that. They did notice though that you started writing more love songs than before. You got questions about it almost every day, but you never answered them. They had their speculations, but you never confirmed any of it. It might be selfish, but you wanted to keep him all to yourself and both of you agreed to wait a little more before going public. He was promoting his new movie and you didn't want people to think that you announced your relationship only to give more publicity to it. But sometimes the universe doesn't care what you want.

It was a normal day, like any other, when you were at Sebastian's house and you started craving some McDonald's. The weather was nice for the time being past 10 pm so you decided to go out to buy it instead of ordering. It was dark already so you weren't afraid that anybody would see or recognize you. It was a five minute walk from his house and you thought it would be nice have a short walk. You waited for Sebastian to lock the front door then started walking down the street hand in hand. It probably wasn't the best idea, but you really didn't think that any paparazzi would be near you. You went into the fast food place to buy what you needed, then started walking back to his place, laughing at a story he was telling you. You loved these late night walks, the dark giving you a sense of comfort.

"Baby" he stopped walking as still giggled, making you stop as well. You turned to him, eyebrows raised in question, a smile still on your face. "I love you" he blurted out, intently looking at you, waiting for your reaction. He never said it before, despite dating for almost 6 months now. You didn't say it either yet, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or rush him. After his last relationship he wanted to be extra sure when saying the three words and you understood him. Your heart skipped a few beats at his confession, the smile widening on your lips.

"I love you too, Seb." you beamed, stepping closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

"Thank god." he mumbled into your hair, making you pull away.

"What do you mean 'thank god'? How could I not feel the same way about you? Haven't you heard the songs I wrote lately?" you asked jokingly in disbelief, but knowing he didn't mean it like that.

"You know what I mean" he blushed under the light of the streetlamp.

"I do" your arms going around his neck you pulled him down into a deep kiss. When you broke apart you walked back to his house to finally eat.

What you didn't realize was that there was a paparazzi following you, getting the perfect angle of your kiss, taking a series of photos.

The next morning you were woken up by your phone essentially exploding with calls and messages. You groaned as you reached for it, barely being able to touch it as Sebastian refused to let go of your waist.

"Why is your phone waking us up at the ass crack of dawn?" he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"I don't know" you unlocked it to see at least 25 calls from your manager and another few from friends and family. Around the same amount of texts were sent as well, making you sit up in bed, confused. "Something is wrong." he sat up at your tone to look at your phone. You dialed your manager, putting it on speaker. She picked up right away.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she almost screamed into the device, making Sebastian look at you.

"I was sleeping. It's 7 am." you explained.

"Care to tell me why is you and Sebastian kissing plastered on every news site on the internet right now?" your whole world stopped at her words.

"What did you say?" Sebastian spoke up as you were still frozen in your spot.

"Oh your partner in crime is there too? Great. I don't have to say this twice." she was being sarcastic, but you didn't care. You just wanted an explanation.

"Tell us what is happening, please" you pleaded.

"There are multiple pictures of you going around. They are claiming that they took them last night." she explained, but that wasn't enough.

"What pictures?" you asked.

"Pictures of you holding hands and kissing." you ran your hand through your hair.

"Fuck" Sebastian sighed.

"That's an understatement." you heard shuffling on the other side. "So I recommend you guys figure out what you are going to do and do it real fast because it is getting out of hand."

"Yeah, sure we will do that." he took the phone from you. "Thanks."

"Just doing my work." she ended the call with a sigh. Sebastian looked at you as you stared at your legs, deep in thought.

"Hey" he brushed his hand up your back, shaking you out of your mind.

"Yeah?" you looked at him, startled.

"We need to do something." he explained.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. What should we do? Go public? I mean we don't really have any other choice." you furrowed your brows.

"Do you want that?" he wanted you to be hundred percent okay with whatever you were going to do.

"Yes, I just hoped it wouldn't happen like this." you sighed. "Do you want that?" you asked back.

"Yes. We already talked about going public so I guess we will have to do it now." he shrugged.

"How are we doing this then?" you stood up to get dressed, getting ready for the day.

"Posting a video on TikTok?" he grinned.

"Absolutely not. We are not posting on Tiktok." you shook your head, laughing.

"So where do you want it? Facebook?" he raised his eyebrows, joking.

"No." you laughed. "I was thinking about posting a pic on Instagram." you threw out the idea. Both of you used the app a lot so it would be the best choice.

"Okay, let's find a picture." he also stood up.

"Ah-ah" you held out your hand to stop him. "You talk to your manager while I pick out a picture to post on my account and you can post one on yours if you want to. Mine is going to be a surprise." you grinned, already having one in mind. It was your favorite picture of you, taken by a friend without your knowledge. You were in a parking lot at the beach, you sitting on the hood of his car while he was standing between your legs, kissing you. There was a second picture, where you were leaning your forehead against his, both of you laughing at your friends shouting at you to get a room. Both of your faces were clearly seen on them so you decided to post both of them.

'All of the songs are about you' the caption read. In seconds your notifications were blowing up with comments from fans. You didn't want to read them, because you knew how people on the internet could get and you knew that you being younger than him would bother some of them. Sebastian came out of the bedroom to sit next to you.

"You posted it?" he asked, taking out his phone.

"Yep" you smiled. You leaned your head against his shoulder as he opened the app, waiting for his reaction. He immediately searched up your name and tapped on the photo. His thumb froze on the little heart as he read the caption. He put the phone down and grabbed your chin to pull you to his soft lips in a kiss.

"I love you." he mumbled into your lips.

"I love you too." you giggled. He pulled away to pick up the phone to leave a comment. 'If I wrote songs mine would be about you too' you snorted at it. "You are cute"

A few days later you had enough courage to check the comments people were leaving online. Maybe it wasn't the best idea.

'Jesus. Isn't he like 12 years older than her?? Gross'

'He is definitely using her lmao but I can't blame him, get that coin king'

'Y'all think she calls him daddy in the bedroom kjsdnhs'

'She is just using him to write songs'

There were nice comments as well, calling you cute together and wishing you well. The mean comments always stuck with you more though and you didn't want Sebastian to read them. It was enough that you went through them. Both of you were a little insecure about your age gap, but you loved each other so you helped the other through the harder times.

You got to his house and walked in as he asked you to not to knock anymore. You found him sitting on his couch, phone in hand. Hoping that he wasn't doing what you thought he was doing you sat down next to him. He had instagram open.

"Seb" you sighed, taking the phone out of his hands.

"What? I just wanted to see what they were saying." he tried to defend himself.

"You shouldn't read these." you shook your head. "So you wanna watch a movie?" you changed the subject. He agreed with your suggestion.

The movie had been playing for a half an hour when he pulled away from your cuddling.

"What if they are right?" his voice was so quiet so almost didn't hear him. You paused the movie to look at him.

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused by his sudden outburst.

"The comments saying that you could do so much better than me" he kept looking at his feet. You sat up and grabbed his chin to turn his head towards you, your heart breaking at his words. This was exactly why you didn't want him to read them.

"Baby" you sighed. "They are not right. Not even by far. I could not find anyone better than you even if I tried. But I'm not trying because I have you with me and you are the best thing that happened to me in a long time. So get that thought out of your head." you stared into his eyes to get your point across.

"But don't you want someone your age?"

"No I don't." you shook your head. "I am perfectly happy with you and I don't need anyone else." you held his cheeks between your palms. "Plus I like it that you are older." you smirked making him chuckle lightly. Climbing onto his lap you pulled him closer. "I love it that you are more experienced." you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "I love it that you are taller." a kiss under his ear. "I love it that you are always so so sweet to everyone you meet." a kiss on his nose. Your right hand went into his hair as your lips kissed down to his neck. "And I love the way you make me feel when it's just the two of us." you whispered into his ear, your breath hitting his skin, making him let out a moan. He grabbed your waist in a strong grip. "I love how big your hands are." you nipped at his skin on his neck earning another noise of pleasure and his fingers digging into your skin. "But most importantly" you pulled away so you could look into his eyes to show your sincerity. "I love you. All of you. With everything I have." his eyes softened as he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist: @byatomoe

Sebastian Stan taglist: @wobblymug @sleutherclaw @toms-spiders @sarcastically-defensive17 @allforkook @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @mrsbarnesinmyimagination @bbl32 @wakandabiitch2

get added to my taglist

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan blurb #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fic #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x you

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bebepac · 2 years

Text

Six Sentence Sunday 11.21.21

Not exactly a Thanksgiving movie but probably one of my favorites I like to watch this time of the year.

I am still behind of stuff sorry guys. I got some responses to the WIP game as reblogs and comments so that’s how I’m going to use my six sentence Sunday today along with some teasers for some other stuff.

Original Post Update: 11/21/21 at 3:50PM EST.

WIP Game Ask by @alj4890

The Liam Claus

The Days The Earth Stood Still (12 days of Fictmas prompt Cookies for Santa)

The Book: TRH/TRF

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Status: Still In the writing Process

“Liam as much as I enjoy the palace, I am so glad we decided to go to have Christmas in Valtoria.”

“Me too, Christmas will feel more intimate there with you, William, and I.”

Riley softly stroked William’s cheek as he slept in his child safety seat.

“He falls asleep just as soon as the SUV starts moving. Just like his father.”

“I don’t always fall asleep in the SUV on a trip.”

Riley raised an eyebrow.

“But he sleeps almost the whole way!!!”

Riley laughed at Liam. “You’re truly adorable, just like your son. But if you fall back asleep, I’m not carrying you into the estate.”

Riley was excited to do some decorating with Liam and William, however when they walked through the doors of the estate, the halls had already been decorated along with the tree, which made Riley frown.

“What’s wrong Love?”

“I thought we would be able to decorate the tree at least Liam, like we did at the palace. It’s not a perfectly decorated tree, but it was our tree, we decorated together.”

“I understand, you want another tree? I’ll go chop one down for you.”

Riley laughed out loud. “You’ll go chop down a tree with what, your hands?”

“With an ax, or a chainsaw or some other manly tool. It can’t be that difficult.”

“You’re not Drake, that’s not your skill set honey.”

Wip Game Ask by @angelasscribbles

Toga Party

And So...We Met: Chapter 3

The Book: TRR AU (no royals)

Pairings: Riley x Drake / Riley x Liam / Liam x Hana / Hana x ?

Status: Still in the writing process

“Weren’t you supposed to be with Liam tonight, Hana?”

“It wasn’t anything important. He was just doing a little toga party fundraiser for his little club and students. Besides, I would rather be here with you.” Hesitantly Hana reached across the table to grab the hand of her companion. They both took a sip of red wine.

“I’m glad you came. But I still don’t understand why? Why did you come?”

“Because I feel something for you, and I don’t know what.”

“Then why do you stay with Liam if you’re not truly happy? You deserve that. You both do.”

“I just said! I don’t know what! I don’t know what this pull between you and I really truly is, and if I want it.”

“You didn’t answer my question Hana.”

“Because… It’s comfortable, Liam is not a bad man. We come from similar families and have a similar family obligation. I wouldn’t have a bad life with him.”

“You never mentioned love Hana. Would you have love? Do you love him, Hana?”

“I have grown to be very fond of him.”

“Do you love me Hana?”

“I…… don’t know what I feel.”

“When you figure that out, I hope you can tell me then mon chéri."

Kiara gathered her things.

“You’re leaving? Liam won’t be home for several hours, we could spend more time together, take a walk around Lake Pine.”

“I’d rather be alone than continue spending time with someone who can’t truly confess who I am to them, or who they might want me to be to them.”

WIP Game Ask by @busywoman

Burgers, Fries, and Broken Ties

The Life of Riley Book Two: Unknown chapter

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Status: Still in the writing process.

She pulled out her laptop looking for flights to New York. She checked her savings account and winced. Being here without a source of income, the Beaumont family being broke, and random expenses really made her savings take a hit. It would take more than what she had to fly home and then she’d be completely broke. She’d figure something out.

Riley had been in tougher spots before and had come out of them. The next day she still didn’t have any ideas. The thought of selling some of her gowns had crossed her mind.

Liam walking by noticed her distraught face as she looked at her computer.

“Love what’s wrong?” he asked, his face frowning at hers in concern.

“My foster mother passed away, and I don't have enough for a plane ticket, and if I get a ticket now, I'm still probably going to miss the funeral.”

“I don’t understand.” Liam said.

“For the ticket Liam, to pay for it.”

Liam looked hurt.

“You should have told me earlier -- i could have helped you.”

She sighed, “You’re not my piggybank Liam.” He walked over to her, touching her hand, touching the engagement ring.

“When you let me slip that ring on your finger, that means everything I have is yours. Riley you will never have to worry about money every again a day in your life. Our children will never have to worry.”

Tears filled her eyes. He gently took his thumb wiping them away, giving her a soft kiss to her lips.

“None of that, I told you you’re way too beautiful for tears in your eyes.”

I need to make some arrangements and move some meetings, and make sure they get the jet ready for us.

“Us?”

“I’m going with you.”

WIP Ask by @21-wishes

Detention: Party of One

School Dayz: Chapter 4

Pairing: Riley x Liam?

Book: TRR AU (no royals)

Status: Still in the writing process

“Actually… there were two really cute guys there, and i’m on the fence about it.”

Riley shook her head in disbelief. Taylor was the only person who could meet not only one cute guy in detention, but two cute guys!?!?!?!

“How is that even possible?”

“When you look like us, it’s always possible. Riley I know you try to hide your head in the sand like an ostrich, but we’re cute twins. We are! And the sooner you get that through your skull and embrace it, the better off you will be. Even when you dress like you should be pulled over and put in jail by the fashion police!”

“I don’t want to dress like you.”

“You don’t have to dress like me Riley! Just put in a little more effort. And you know maybe match your clothes?!?!?!”

Riley rolled her eyes.

“I do match my clothes.”

Taylor looked her over, shaking her head in dismay.

“Mmmmmmmmkay…. That’s debatable.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing right now?”

She shook her head at Riley. “It might be okay if it actually fits your body. You could fit Jaiden in that shirt with you.”

The Rotten Apple 🍎: Part 4

The Rotten Apple 🍎

The book: TRF

Pairings: Liam x Riley / Ellie x Nico

Status: Still in the writing process

“If I would have known you would be visiting so often, I would have put you on my VIP guest list, Daughter.”

“Hello Father.”

He looked at her carefully.

“You’re here to gloat.”

“I am, because I’m smarter than you.”

Drake laughed. “You sure are cocky as hell to be my kid. You must get that from your mother. Which kind of makes sense. She did come to this country, without a drop of royal blood in her body, thinking she can become its queen, and now rules it alongside King Liam. And what makes you think you are smarter than me?”

“For starters, I’m not wasting away in a jail cell, and two, I’ve aligned with the one person you claimed would be able to take me down. How do you like those apples?”

“What are you doing that makes you think you have his allegiance?”

It was the first time she saw something else in her Father’s eyes.

“You’re not… Tell me you’re not fucking him Eleanor. Is this something you do to get what you want from people?”

“No. I don’t… I hadn’t even been with anyone before him.”

“You need to stop this path you’re on.”

“There’s no need. I’m in control.”

“Are you now? Is he coming to your quarters at night, or are you going to his? Why so quiet now?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re mad now because you realize, you’re his plaything. Nico is fucking you, not the other way around. Don’t let that Greek Meat get you all ad-dick-ted having you lose even more of your mind. But what would I know…. You say you’re smarter than me.”

Ellie slapped Drake.

“I SAID SHUT UP!!!!”

Drake rubbed his face smiling.

“You are hot headed like your mother, and that part of you, albeit the small part of you that is like her is what is going to get you caught.”

While We Were Apart: Part 2 Mia’s 🌎 World The Book: TRR Pairings: None with past pairing of Mia x Jaiden (TRR MC x M!OC) Status: Still in the writing process

It was a huge mistake.

He stared silently at Carmen; she wanted to cuddle with him afterwards, and all he wanted to do was leave. What he had done with her, didn't make him feel better, it just made him miss Mia more. Because when they were together in that way it felt like more. It felt....like love.

He shouldn't have done this with Carmen, and he regretted it, and the look in her eyes was that what they had just done meant so much more to her than it did to him.

"What's wrong? Why are you so quiet?"

"You know I'm not much of a talker, Carmen."

That. Was. A. Lie.

"That's exactly right. You're a man of few words." Carmen smiled at him.

Carmen didn't even know him… well not really.

#bebepac writes #six sentence sunday #always more than six #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trh fanfic #trh fandom #liam x riley forever #jaiden x mia #the days the earth stood still #mia's world #and so we met #the life of riley #the rotten apple #evil ellie rys #evil drake

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peachhcs · 3 years

Text

Love Languages Pt. 2

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

Summary: Pt.2 to Luke asking you what Love Languages are

Warnings: talk of drinking and cheating but that’s it

Word Count: 1.6k

Here is part two that you all have been asking for! I deeply apologize for how long it took me to get this up, school is really kicking my butt. I have a bunch of people asking to be on my taglist and I’m currently in the works of making one so comment or reblog or something telling me you want to be on my taglist! Make sure you specifiy for my series or for small blurbs/oneshots like this or both!

Thank you so much for the amazing feedback! I love the comments and y’all are so amazing!

I’m not sure if this will have a part 3?? but let me know if you want one haha. I won’t be tagging anyone in this because my tags got lost in my notifications, so if you want to be tagged again, make sure you read above! :)

PART 1

* * *

You didn’t mean to avoid Luke, it just kind of happened. Junior Year was no joke and it felt like every night and every weekend you had piles of homework to get done, so you sort of drifted from going to Julie’s house everyday. She didn’t mind, she understood just as much and kept you updated on how the band was doing. However, you still felt guilty for avoiding the boys. You were worried that Luke would think he scared you away by touching you, but you were feeling the exact opposite. You wanted to explore more and find out more but here you were, in your room at 12am trying to finish this nagging essay that was due in 8 hours.

You felt your eyelids growing heavy but you shook your head, trying to keep yourself awake. The 3 monster drinks on your nightstand said enough about how much you were trying to keep yourself awake. You had 2 paragraphs left but you knew you were at a losing battle with yourself. The way your eyes were just glazing over at this point and rereading the same sentence over and over was becoming a very evident indication that you needed sleep. Before you could even think about quitting for the night, there was a noise from the side of your room and a grunt. Your eyes quickly darted over to where the noise came from and there stood Luke with that magenta pull over that you really liked.

“Luke?” His eyes quickly darted over to you, clearly surprised to still see you awake.

“Y/n..hey..” He started and you pushed your laptop away to give him your full attention.

“What are you..doing here?..” You weren’t really sure why he was here and you felt a small bit of tension in the room from avoiding him for the past few weeks.

“I uh..came to see you..” His voice was small and you pushed your eyebrows together in confusion.

“At 12 in the morning?..” You knew ghosts didn’t really sleep but it was still a strange sight to see Luke in your bedroom this late at night.

“Yup..” He trails off and pushes his glance down to the floor. You raised your eyebrow, knowing he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. You two were still best friends after all, so you could read him like an open book.

“Luke, seriously. What are you doing here?” You ask trying to push an answer out of him. He finally meets your gaze again and you see his small expression on his face.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You blinked a few times at his bluntness. This time you were the one to avoid his gaze. You picked at your fingernails slightly, knowing Luke was watching you and waiting for an answer.

“I don't mean too.. School’s been tough and stuff.” You say cringing at how lame that sounded even though it was true. Luke stayed silent for a moment, trying to decide if you were lying to him or not. You avoided his eyes and kept your glance locked on the floor.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I overstep by touching you? I didn’t mean to scare you or anything..” Luke trails off and you frown. You quickly shake your head to tell him no.

“No, no, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been really swamped with homework..” You grimace to yourself for coming back to your really lame excuse. You watch as Luke steps a little closer, testing the waters. When you don’t object to him moving closer, he takes a slow seat on your bed beside you.

“You look tired..” He points out, gently reaching to touch your cheek. It warms both of your bodies as your skin makes contact. His hands were..warm..and comforting. You weren’t sure what you expected but it definitely wasn't this. Who knew ghosts were warm?

“I told you I’ve been swamped with homework.” You chuckle and this time Luke chuckles along with you. He gently pulls his hand away and folds them into his lap. You stare down at your feet for a few moments trying to figure out what to say next. This felt like completely new territory the two of you were exploring and by the energy and growing tension in the room; this was a little bit scary.

“Do you think you know..why we can..touch?” You ask hesitantly. Julie was filling you in here and there at school, but it wasn’t much and they didn’t seem to come up with anything as to why you had the “powers” too.

“No..it’s still all confusing. We think Julie’s mom has something to do with us being connected to Julie but we don’t know about you.” Luke says, side eyeing you and you weren’t sure if that was a hint for you to talk about your past or not.

You didn’t really open up about your past. No one had ever really asked so you never really talked. Julie knew a little bit, she knew that your mom and dad fought a lot and you didn’t like being at home that much, but that was about it. You didn’t talk about it further than that, so when you could feel Luke trying to dig into your past more, you shrugged.

“My parents don’t talk much about stuff. I don’t know.” You say, keeping it short and simple. Luke frowns a little at your answer, but he knows not to push so he doesn’t. The two of you sit in more silence beside one another. You picked at your finger nails while Luke’s eyes travelled around your room.

“I ran out on my mom. She didn’t believe in my dream and though dropping out of high school was the worst possible idea. We got into a fight and I ran out. That was the last time I saw her face to face. I died before I could make amends with her.” You glance at Luke, surprised at his openness. Even though you guys were best friends, talking about stuff like this was kind of off limits. The memory hurt too much so you never talked about at home, parent problems.

“Wow..I’m sorry. That must have been hard on both of you.” You admit and Luke nods.

“It was, but Julie helped me make amends with them last year.” Luke smiles a little and you smile too. You knew his little story was a play to get you to start talking so you took in a little breath.

“My dad cheated on my mom a few years ago with..a few other women. My mom keeps trying to make excuses for him to keep him around. They fight a lot because my dad doesn’t want to stay but my mom keeps pushing it. They’re both pretty heavy drinkers, too. It’s not a very good mix.” You explain. It felt weird to say it out loud, but it also felt nice to talk about it with someone.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I can’t imagine how difficult that is.” Luke empathizes but you only shrug.

“It’s a good thing Julie let’s me come over so much. She’s been there for me for it all and I really love her for that.” You say, smiling at the thought of Julie’s friendship. You really couldn’t ask for a better best friend to get through it all.

“Yeah, Julie’s really great. She does it all.” Luke laughs and you nod in agreement. More silence fills in between you two but it was comfortable silence. This time you lean your head on Luke’s shoulder and he pulls his arm around you to bring you closer. You could feel the tension slowly fading away. Sometimes all it took was one meaningful conversation to break the barrier.

“Oh yeah, I saw these on my way over here and I thought you might like them.” Luke smiles and you watch as he digs into his pocket before pulling out a small bouquet of those pretty Aster flowers. You sit up a little, instantly recognizing them. They were your grandma’s favorite before she passed away when you were little.

“Asters?” You ask and Luke glances at you a little surprised.

“Is that what they’re called? They’re really pretty.” Luke smiles and hands them to you. You smile, smelling them and instantly getting that fresh scent of your grandma’s house.

“They are very pretty. Thank you.” You smile warmly and Luke smiles again.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. They just reminded me of you.” Luke says and you chuckle. That was something your grandma had said to you a lot.

“You should probably get going. It’s getting late and the boys are probably wondering where you are.” You chuckle, glancing at how much later it had gotten and you still had to wake up for school the next morning.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see you at Julie’s tomorrow?” Luke stands up and sends you a hopeful glance. You chuckle and nod a yes.

“Yeah, see you there, Patterson.” Luke smiles at your response. You watch as he hesitates to leave for a moment and you’re about to question him when in one quick motion he plants a kiss on your cheek before poofing out.

You sit there, a little stunned, before allowing a small blush to creep its way onto your cheeks. You got up to put your flowers in your little vase on your desk. It added a nice touch to your room. If Luke hadn’t come in to make you more alert, you would have missed it. On your desk by the vase was a small piece of paper with writing on it. Upon examining it further, it was one of the last notes your grandma had written to you before she passed away. You thought you had lost that somewhere in your numerous papers, but there it was, front and center on your desk.

I will be with you, today, tomorrow, and forever. You just have to look for the signs - Grandma

#julie and the phantoms #japt #japt luke #japt cast #alex japt #reggie japt #julie molina #love #angst #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #flynn jatp #ray japt #luke patterson imagine #willie japt #fanfiction

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

Recommendation engines and "lean-back" media

In William Gibson’s 1992 novel “Idoru,” a media executive describes her company’s core audience:

“Best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It’s covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth…no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections.”

It’s an astonishingly great passage, not just for the image it evokes, but for how it captures the character of the speaker and her contempt for the people who made her fortune.

It’s also a beautiful distillation of the 1990s anxiety about TV’s role in a societal “dumbing down,” that had brewed for a long time, at least since the Nixon-JFK televised debates, whose outcome was widely attributed not to JFK’s ideas, but to Nixon’s terrible TV manner.

Neil Postman’s 1985 “Amusing Ourselves To Death” was a watershed here, comparing the soundbitey Reagan-Dukakis debates with the long, rhetorically complex Lincoln-Douglas debates of the previous century.

(Incidentally, when I finally experienced those debates for myself, courtesy of the 2009 BBC America audiobook, I was more surprised by Lincoln’s unequivocal, forceful repudiations of slavery abolition than by the rhetoric’s nuance)

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/01/20/lincoln-douglas-debate-audiobook-civics-history-and-rhetoric-lesson-in-16-hours/

“Media literacy” scholarship entered the spotlight, and its left flank — epitomized by Chomsky’s 1988 “Manufacturing Consent” — claimed that an increasingly oligarchic media industry was steering society, rather than reflecting it.

Thus, when the internet was demilitarized and the general public started trickling — and then rushing — to use it, there was a widespread hope that we might break free of the tyranny of concentrated, linear programming (in the sense of “what’s on,” and “what it does to you”).

Much of the excitement over Napster wasn’t about getting music for free — it was about the mix-tapification of all music, where your custom playlists would replace the linear album.

Likewise Tivo, whose ad-skipping was ultimately less important than the ability to watch the shows you liked, rather than the shows that were on.

Blogging, too: the promise was that a community of reader-writers could assemble a daily “newsfeed” that reflected their idiosyncratic interests across a variety of sources, surfacing ideas from other places and even other times.

The heady feeling of the time is hard to recall, honestly, but there was a thrill to getting up and reading the news that you chose, listening to a playlist you created, then watching a show you picked.

And while there were those who fretted about the “Daily Me” (what we later came to call the “filter bubble”) the truth was that this kind of active media creation/consumption ranged far more widely than the monopolistic media did.

The real “bubble” wasn’t choosing your own programming — it was everyone turning on their TV on Thursday nights to Friends, Seinfeld and The Simpsons.

The optimism of the era is best summarized in a taxonomy that grouped media into two categories: “lean back” (turn it on and passively consume it) and “lean forward” (steer your media consumption with a series of conscious decisions that explores a vast landscape).

Lean-forward media was intensely sociable: not just because of the distributed conversation that consisted of blog-reblog-reply, but also thanks to user reviews and fannish message-board analysis and recommendations.

I remember the thrill of being in a hotel room years after I’d left my hometown, using Napster to grab rare live recordings of a band I’d grown up seeing in clubs, and striking up a chat with the node’s proprietor that ranged fondly and widely over the shows we’d both seen.

But that sociability was markedly different from the “social” in social media. From the earliest days of Myspace and Facebook, it was clear that this was a sea-change, though it was hard to say exactly what was changing and how.

Around the time Rupert Murdoch bought Myspace, a close friend a blazing argument with a TV executive who insisted that the internet was just a passing fad: that the day would come when all these online kids grew up, got beaten down by work and just wanted to lean back.

To collapse on the sofa and consume media that someone else had programmed for them, anaesthetizing themselves with passive media that didn’t make them think too hard.

This guy was obviously wrong — the internet didn’t disappear — but he was also right about the resurgence of passive, linear media.

But this passive media wasn’t the “must-see TV” of the 80s and 90s.

Rather, it was the passivity of the recommendation algorithm, which created a per-user linear media feed, coupled with mechanisms like “endless scroll” and “autoplay,” that incinerated any trace of an active role for the “consumer” (a very apt term here).

It took me a long time to figure out exactly what I disliked about algorithmic recommendation/autoplay, but I knew I hated it. The reason my 2008 novel LITTLE BROTHER doesn’t have any social media? Wishful thinking. I was hoping it would all die in a fire.

Today, active media is viewed with suspicion, considered synonymous with Qanon-addled boomers who flee Facebook for Parler so they can stan their favorite insurrectionists in peace, freed from the tyranny of the dread shadowban.

But I’m still on team active media. I would rather people actively choose their media diets, in a truly sociable mode of consumption and production, than leaning back and getting fed whatever is served up by the feed.

Today on Wired, Duke public policy scholar Philip M Napoli writes about lean forward and lean back in the context of Trump’s catastrophic failure to launch an independent blog, “From the Desk of Donald J Trump.”

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-trumps-failed-blog-proves-he-was-just-howling-into-the-void/

In a nutshell, Trump started a blog which he grandiosely characterized as a replacement for the social media monopolists who’d kicked him off their platforms. Within a month, he shut it down.

While Trump claimed the shut-down was all part of the plan, it’s painfully obvious that the real reason was that no one was visiting his website.

Now, there are many possible, non-exclusive explanations for this.

For starters, it was a very bad social media website. It lacked even rudimentary social tools. The Washington Post called it “a primitive one-way loudspeaker,” noting its lack of per-post comments, a decades old commonplace.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2021/05/21/trump-online-traffic-plunge/

Trump paid (or more likely, stiffed) a grifter crony to build the site for him, and it shows: the “Like” buttons didn’t do anything, the video-sharing buttons created links to nowhere, etc. From the Desk… was cursed at birth.

But Napoli’s argument is that even if Trump had built a good blog, it would have failed. Trump has a highly motivated cult of tens of millions of people — people who deliberately risked death to follow him, some even ingesting fish-tank cleaner and bleach at his urging.

The fact that these cult-members were willing to risk their lives, but not endure poor web design, says a lot about the nature of the Trump cult, and its relationship to passive media.

The Trump cult is a “push media” cult, simultaneously completely committed to Trump but unwilling to do much to follow him.

That’s the common thread between Fox News (and its successors like OANN) and MAGA Facebook.

And it echoes the despairing testimony of the children of Fox cultists, that their boomer parents consume endless linear TV, turning on Fox from the moment they arise and leaving it on until they fall asleep in front of it (also, reportedly, how Trump spent his presidency).

Napoli says that Trump’s success on monopoly social media platforms and his failure as a blogger reveals the role that algorithmically derived, per-user, endless scroll linear media played in the ascendancy of his views.

It makes me think of that TV exec and his prediction of the internet’s imminent disappearance (which, come to think of it, is not so far off from my own wishful thinking about social media’s disappearance in Little Brother).

He was absolutely right that this century has left so many of us exhausted, wanting nothing more than the numbness of lean-back, linear feeds.

But up against that is another phenomenon: the resurgence of active political movements.

After a 12-month period that saw widescale civil unrest, from last summer’s BLM uprising to the bizarre storming of the capital, you can’t really call this the golden age of passivity.

While Fox and OANN consumption might be the passive daily round of one of Idoru’s “vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organisms craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed,” that is in no way true of Qanon.

Qanon is an active pastime, a form of collaborative storytelling with all the mechanics of the Alternate Reality Games that the lean-forward media advocates who came out of the blogging era love so fiercely:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/06/no-vitiated-air/#other-hon

Meanwhile, the “clicktivism” that progressive cynics decried as useless performance a decade ago has become an active contact sport, welding together global movements from Occupy to BLM that use the digital to organize the highly physical.

That’s the paradox of lean-forward and lean-back: sometimes, the things you learn while leaning back make you lean forward — in fact, they might just get you off the couch altogether.

I think that Napoli is onto something. The fact that Trump’s cultists didn’t follow him to his crummy blog tells us that Trump was an effect, not a cause (something many of us suspected all along, as he’s clearly neither bright nor competent enough to inspire a movement).

But the fact that “cyberspace keeps everting” (to paraphrase “Spook Country,” another William Gibson novel) tells us that passive media consumption isn’t a guarantee of passivity in the rest of your life (and sometimes, it’s a guarantee of the opposite).

And it clarifies the role that social media plays in our discourse — not so much a “radicalizer” as a means to corral likeminded people together without them having to do much. Within those groups are those who are poised for action, or who can be moved to it.

The ease with which these people find one another doesn’t produce a deterministic outcome. Sometimes, the feed satisfies your urge for change (“clicktivism”). Sometimes, it fuels it (“radicalizing”).

Notwithstanding smug media execs, the digital realm equips us to “express our mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire” by doing much more than “changing the channels on a universal remote” — for better and for worse.

Image: Ian Burt (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/oddsock/267206444

CC BY: https://creativecommo

ns.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

What if...? Part 9

Brace yourself, bring tissues and I will try to have the last bit/epilogue up real soon! Don’t look at me, I know I said this was the last part, but honestly, when it hit 12 pages I had to stop it there! And you lovely LOVELY enablers with your amazing comments and incredibly kind reblogs? Thank you for brightening my day! <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 Part 8

Part 9

“We have to warn them.” Dulsissia whispers, her fingers toying with the fabric covering Davarax’ collarbone. “They have to move.”

“What are you talking about?” Davarax mumbles.

“The Covert.” Dulsissia replies, feeling an anxious knot in her stomach. “Macero knows Vecon found me on Nevarro. It’s not safe there any more. He will want revenge for his brother, Corin back in his claws and… me.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Davarax replies with lazy confidence.

“Do not underestimate his anger and the force he will use.” Dulsissia sits up to properly face him.

Davarax looks at her for a second then nods. “I hear you. I do. But do not underestimate the Covert. We are Mandalorians. We have survived worse things than Macero Valentis.”

Dulsissia isn’t too sure about that. She has seen an emptiness in Macero’s eyes that only belongs in black holes, the kind that simply exists to crush everything it touches, something that should not live in any human being’s eyes. But then her gaze drops to the blood glistering on Davarax’ clothing and she decides to deal with what she has right in front of her first.

“Come on. Off with it.” Dulsissia gets up and starts to detach Davarax’ breastplate. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine.” Davarax sighs, but helps her remove it and then his clothing, baring his torso, riddled with cuts and bruises and covered with sticky blood. “I’m fine.”

“This is not fine.” Dulsissia hisses, doing a quick examination of the wounds, especially where Vecon had stabbed him.

“Just a cut.” Davarax reassures her, trying to sound unfazed despite exhaustion creeping into his voice.

“Luckily he didn’t get the angle right.” Dulsissia mumbles. “Held the blade all wrong.”

She’s distracted by Davarax taking a gentle hold of her chin, making her look up at his t-visor and Davarax runs his thumb over her lower lip. “That’s my girl.” He sounds proud.

Flushing, Dulsissia pulls away and straightens up. “Do you have any bacta on the ship?”

He should, right? Mandalorians tend to get into fights all the time, so it would only be sensible.

Davarax points up and she sees the small compartment in the ceiling, which turns out to have a kit with bandages, a little bacta and a cauterizer thing that she quickly shoves back into the compartment.

She ends up sitting on his knee as the silly man refuses to leave the pilot seat in case some TIE fighters should appear out of nowhere and she begins to gingerly wash away the sticky blood and apply bandages to the injuries, trying not to think about how the last time she’d touched his skin it had been under so much happier circumstances. She hates knowing he will now carry even more scars because of her. And in the dark corners of her mind, she is glad Vecon is dead.

“How is Corin?” Dulsissia asks, dreading the answer. Her poor boy.

“Scared out of his mind that he’ll never see his mother again.” Davarax sighs, running his hand along her arm in an absent-minded caress. “When we get closer to Nevarro, I’ll try to reach him.”

“And the rest of the kids?”

That actually brings forth the Davaraxian laughter huff. “I had to physically wrestle Paz off the ship when he heard I was going. If he had a blaster, he would have shot me.” His hand rounds her shoulder and moves up her neck to cup the side of her face. “They’ve all been desperate to get you back. Like me.”

“I’m sorry.” Dulsissia mumbles, gently patting down the edges of a bacta patch on his stab wound. “I didn’t see him before it was too late. And then I just wanted them away from all of you.”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle but firm grip on her wrist, halting her movement, making her look at his visor. “This was not your fault. This was all them. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Dulsissia looks at the residual blood still drying on his skin. “Maybe not. But the fact remains that without me stumbling into your life, you wouldn’t be bleeding right now.”

“Without me barging into yours, I wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s true.” Davarax replies, gently caressing her wrist. “I wouldn’t be with you. My days wouldn’t bring happy memories instead of feeling guilty all the time. I wouldn’t come home to my kids smiling instead of crying, hiding away while being terrified for their lives or without a voice because they have been screaming themselves hoarse.” His hand moves up to brush the back of his fingers across her bruised cheekbone with heart breaking tenderness. “That’s worth more than bleeding for, cyare. That’s worth dying for.”

Closing her eyes, Dulsissia takes a hold of his hand and moves it down to press her lips to it. “Other than the love I felt for my son, I didn’t know what love was until I met you.” She shivers. “Don’t talk about dying because it feels like tempting fate and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Then, maybe, if you feel like that, would you…” Davarax says, tensing up a little.

Waiting for him to finish the sentence and frowning a little when he doesn’t, Dulsissia kisses his hand again. “Would I what?” The man just took on an entire imperial ship by himself without hesitation, but a simple request frightens him? How is that possible?

Davarax exhales, as if letting go of something, and tilts his head while making a thoughtful sound. “Would you let me compliment you on the dress? It’s lovely. And really brings out the colour of your eyes.”

Laughing, Dulsissia shakes her head and goes back to focus on cleaning and bandaging him up. “Thank you. I kind of like it myself. Impractical, but pretty. I was thinking about keeping it.”

“I think you should.” Davarax drawls, toying with the thin shoulder strap. “Definitely.”

“Mom?” Corin’s voice across the com link is desperate and hopeful at the same time.

It hurts endlessly more than any physical pain.

“I’m here, Corin.” Dulsissia replies, eyes welling up with tears and yet makes sure to keep her voice calm. “I’m right here, baby. I’m okay. Are you okay? Me and Davarax are coming home now.”

The reply is a mess of voices as all the children try to say something at the same time, making Dulsissia reach out and touch the speaker as if she could reach them. They all sound so worried.

“SHUT UP!” Paz’ voice roars and Dulsissia expects the other children jump like she does because there is silence before Paz’ voice is heard again, calm this time; “Dulcy, when will you be landing?”

Dulsissia looks over at Davarax, who is standing next to her while she sits in the pilot seat, and he leans down to tap something into one of the machines before holding up five fingers to her.

“Five standard hours.” Dulsissia replies, reaching out and touching the speaker again. “Okay? Five. Then we’ll be back with you. Is Corin okay, Paz? Are you okay? How, how are-”

“He’s okay.” Paz replies. His voice is suddenly a little shaky too. “We’re all… okay. Just, hurry home.” A moment’s pause before he adds in almost a whisper. “Please.”

“Five hours, Paz, sweetie, I promise.” Dulsissia gulps down some air. “Corin, baby, you hear me?”

“I’m here, mom.” His voice is choked with tears. “Is… Is uncle Vecon with you?”

Dulsissia hesitates, glances over at Davarax who stands like a silent guardian next to her, then focuses on the speaker again. “No. It’s just me and Davarax. Don’t worry, Corin.”

“Did you kick his ass?” Raga’s voice pipes up. “I hope you kicked his ass.”

“Of course they kicked his ass.” Din scoffs. “Davarax would never let someone take Dulcy away and not kick their ass.”

Dulsissia hesitates, glances over at Davarax again and this time he shrugs, so she turns back to the speaker with an awkward look on her face. “Yeah, uhm, there was. Serious ass-kicking.”

“Can’t you come home sooner, mom?” Corin pleads.

“I wish, Corin, but we can’t. We’re going as fast as we can. But we’ll be there soon.” Dulsissia replies, hating she can’t grant her son’s wish and just appear in front of him. But there is one voice missing. “Barthor, baby, you there?”

There is a second of silence and then there is a cautious and slightly surprised; “...Yeah?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice. You okay?”

Another moment of hesitation before Barthor replies. “Y-yeah. I’m, uhm, yeah. Just… What they said. Hurry back.”

Dulsissia can’t help but to smile a little as she can practically ‘hear’ him blushing and Davarax must hear it too as his hand touches her shoulder and gives it a light, teasing squeeze. “We will.”

The five hours are spent half-drowsing in Davarax’ arms after he takes over the pilot seat and pulls her down on his lap. She tries to relocate to her own seat, claiming she has to be cutting off the blood supply to his legs after a while, but he refuses to let go and they end up staying like that.

And the only feeling that can compete with the peace she feels in his arms is the one she gets when she steps through the door to the Covert and Corin flings himself into her arms.

Din rushes over, wraps his arms around Davarax’ waist and buries his face in his stomach, while the Mandalorian gently strokes his hair.

Kneeling down and hugging her son close, giving up on holding back sobs of joy, Dulsissia peppers his hair with kisses and feels his thin arms trying to hold on even tighter. Her boy is shivering so hard it’s scary. She pets his back, his hair, continues to kiss him and squeeze him tight.

It’s almost accidental when she looks up and sees the other children standing there. Raga is clinging to Paz’ arm, tears in her eyes. Barthor hovers in the back, tears in his eyes. And Paz… who knows. The helmet doesn’t reveal anything.

Dulsissia manages a weak smile and reaches out an inviting arm.

Raga bolts forward and crashes into her so hard it kind of hurts, but Dulsissia hugs her close and Corin automatically wraps his arm around her as well. Getting Barthor to come over takes a little fingerwaggling and a nod, but eventually he slinks over. Din joins when Davarax gives him a gentle push in their direction. It feels so right, so lovely, so perfect to just hug them, squeeze them and reassure them.

Arms crossed, Paz watches them, not moving when she tries to wave him closer. In the end, she ushers her armful over to Davarax and lets them unleash their hugs on him before straightening up and stepping over to stand in front of the quiet boy.

“No hug?” She asks.

“Kids first.” He replies in a curt tone.

Dulsissia pulls him close, hugs him tight and whispers; “The helmet doesn’t change anything, tough guy. You’re still my baby. Just like the others. Always. Remember?”

Paz hesitates, then his arms slowly come up and go around her in return. “Okay…” And in that moment, he does sound terribly young and even a little lost.

Eventually Davarax makes a slight grunt and says; “Maybe we can head inside?”

Dulsissia looks over and has to smile a little as she sees he’s balancing the climbing Raga on one shoulder while Corin is holding on to his free hand with both of his. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The children marches on ahead, except for Corin who insists on holding on to her hand and walk next to her, and Dulsissia uses the chance to lean over towards Davarax beside her and whisper; “We have to warn them, remember?”

Davarax nods. “I remember. But it’s late. Even if we go and try to talk to her, nothing will be done tonight. It’s better to wait for morning. We got time. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to her tomorrow.”

Dulsissia sighs. “Davarax…”

“Trust me.” He says, reaching out and sliding his hand behind her neck, giving it a light and teasing squeeze. “I know what I’m doing.”

She trusts him, she really does. It’s just that Dulsissia has this horrible feeling…

They enter her and Corin’s room, where she sits down on the bed, Corin still attached to her arm, while Davarax hovers by the door and the children barely has time to settle in a semi-circle on the floor before they start asking questions about what had happened to her while she was away.

Dulsissia manages to weed out some answers of her own. Like she suspected, her cookie customers had happily told the tale of what had happened to her and after that, it was easy to weed out which ship had arrived and the name of the officer.

“It’s late.” Davarax points out when Raga mutters about how he had to go alone to save her. “You kids should head home.”

“Can…” Din clears his throat, shifts his position a little awkwardly. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Corin nods. “He has bad dreams, mom. He dreamt the droids got you.”

Heart breaking, Dulsissia looks over at Davarax, who sighs and starts prodding at his vambrace.

“I’ll ask them.” He mumbles.

“Me too!” Raga shouts. “Can I stay too? Please?” She meekly offers; “I-I’ll be good. I promise.”

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.” Paz mutters.

“What about you?” Dulsissia asks as she sees Barthor stare at the floor.

The young boy scoffs. “My mom will never let me sleep over.”

“Want to bet?” Davarax says, a slight edge to his voice.

Looking around the room, Dulsissia quickly calculates that while the children will most likely pile up together like they did on the camping trip, there really isn’t enough bedding to make comfortable mattresses for them. She has an idea…

Dulsissia clears her throat. “How about… we all spend the night in Davarax’ room?”

The man’s t-visor snaps up from staring at the vambrace he’s prodding at. “Say what now?”

Din lights up like a sunrise. He stares at his hero and role model by the doorway. “Oh, can we?”

Davarax looks over at Dulsissia, who gives him a sweet smile in return, and he ends up giving a heavy sigh. “Just… let me talk to your parents first.”

They all settle and stare as he lifts his hand to his ear-piece and starts connecting to the different Mandalorians via their HUD comm links. Davarax switches off his external mic, so they can’t hear what he’s saying, but first he points at Din and gives a thumbs up. Which has Corin make a happy squeak, move forward as if to hug the other boy, but then realizes it means letting go of Dulsissia’s arm and sits back again with an anxious look. She has to nudge him twice before her son will let go and slide down to join his grinning friend on the floor.

Next Davarax points at Raga and gives a thumbs up. She starts a happy sound but it dies mid-squeak as she sends Paz a quick look. She settles down with a frown, taking a hold of his arm.

Dulsissia observes the annoyed twitch in Davarax’ shoulders, but after what must have been an interesting discussion, he points at Paz and gives a thumbs up. The helmet hides Paz’ reaction, but Raga lets out the rest of her happy squeak and smacks him in the shoulder with both hands, to which he responds with a half-hearted shove in return and something that sounds a lot like a faint laugh.

Barthor continues to stare at the floor while the rest stare with anticipation at Davarax. The last conversation is without a doubt the longest, Davarax even crosses his arms and taps his helmet lightly back against the door frame a couple of times, but then comes the moment when he straightens and turns his mic back on. “Barthor?”

The boy sighs and slowly looks over at him.

Davarax gives him the thumbs up.

Barthor’s eyes widen in mute surprise, a disbelieving smile breaks free and then he’s flattened the other cheering children.

“I hope you have a plan.” Davarax had said, watching the wrestling match on the floor. Dulsissia had given him a grin, whistled for the children’s attention and then handed out assignments.

And that is how both mattresses from their beds, all the blankets and bed covers from her and Corin’s room are carried across to Davarax’ room and placed on the floor next to Davarax’ bed. The children are acting like they are indeed camping again, all smiles and eagerness, as they get to create a nest of their own.

Dulsissia sees Corin is torn between the urge to hang on her arm and join in with the others, so she nudges him again. As much as she wouldn’t mind him clinging after having felt the fear that she’d never see him again, Dulsissia cannot forget the memory of watching him playing and running around with his friends without that anxious look in his eyes. It hurts, but she encourages him to join the others.

“I’ll be right here, baby.” She reassures him.

Davarax helps the children adjust the mattresses a little and then deem the make-shift bedding worthy of his children. He walks over to where Dulsissia is standing. “The kids are set. You take the bed. I’ll, uh…” He looks around, as if scouting for a free spot on the floor.

“You and me are sharing the bed.” Dulsissia states. “The bed are for old people. Like us.”

“I said I was sorry!” Barthor groans. “Let it go.”

“Never.” Dulsissia snaps back. Then she realizes that Davarax is just staring at her. “What?”

Davarax just shakes his head and turns to look at the chattering children settling in their places.

“And would you mind taking off the armor?” Dulsissia asks. “You can, inside the Covert, right?”

Davarax gives a tiny nod.

It takes some time before the children calm down and settle for the night. Dulsissia does a final check on them, fluffing pillows and deliberately cooing all sorts of endearments suitable for far younger children. Raga lies closest to the door, curled up to Paz’ back and holding on like a little jetpack, while Paz has his arm around Din, who has Corin on the other side, and closest to the bed is Barthor.

“Okay, lights out.” Dulsissia declares after Davarax climbs into the bed and flops down on his back. “Sweet dreams, and if any of you need anything, just call out. Okay?”

There is a chorus of ‘okay’s.

After turning the lights off and cautiously making her way back to bed without stepping on anyone, Dulsissia climbs into it. As Davarax insists on being closest to the door, she has to also climb over him. Sighing satisfied, she curls up close to him, rests her head on his chest and abruptly notes how incredibly tense he is. And how he is very deliberately not touching her.

After a while, Dulsissia lets out a soft laugh. “You’re going to have to breathe eventually, you know.”

“No.” The answer is resolute.

Dulsissia giggles.

Corin’s head pops up from the pile. “Mom?” Several sleepy blinks. “What’s so funny?”

Dulsissia hoists herself up on her side to look at the children on the floor at the other side of Davarax, ‘innocently’ placing a hand on Davarax’ stomach, pretending to keep her balance that way while gently groping the fabric of the shirt. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep.”

Corin’s head flops down again, but at the same time, to her utter surprise, Dulsissia feels Davarax’ hand cup her behind and she has to suffocate a squeak. Corin’s head pops up again. “Mom?”

“It’s fine, Corin.” Dulsissia prods two fingers next to one of Davarax’ wounds and he jolts with a muffled grunt.

Corin’s head goes down again.

Davarax’ takes a firmer grip on her behind, hitching her abruptly closer, and she places a hand an unharmed area on his chest to push herself away, but then he uses his other hand to grab hers, pulling her even closer, so she squirms to free herself. They both struggle to muffle their laughter.

Paz’ helmet comes up and he lets out a very annoyed; “SHHH!”

Davarax and Dulsissia both withdraw their hands, fighting even harder to keep the laughter quiet.

“Sorry.” Dulsissia stutters through choked giggles.

“Yeah, sorry.” Davarax adds, struggling hard to silence his own laughter.

Grunting, still very much annoyed, Paz lies back down again.

As the laughter calms, Dulsissia searches and finds Davarax’ hand. She takes it, lifts it up to hold it between their chests, and smiles as their fingers begin their slow, pointless dance of just touching and braiding and feeling.

This. Dulsissia Motti realizes that she doesn’t need her fortune, her fancy clothes or the fancy food. She just needs this man and these children.

Fate brought them together and nothing can tear them apart.

Macero Valentis looks down at the pale face of his brother as he lies dead in the med bay.

“Sir?” One of the officers step into the room, through the door flanked by two Death Troopers. “Sir, it is confirmed. The Razor Crest is back on Nevarro.”

“Good. Increase our speed. Prepare the squads.” Macero says. “Fuel up the Flame Troopers, but make it clear I want my wife and son brought back alive.”

The officer nods and disappears out of the room.

Macero’s eyes narrow.

Nevarro is going to burn and every Mandalorian there with it.

“Listen, she has agreed to hear you out, but remember that you’re an, well, outsider.” Davarax says, before quickly adding; “To her.”

Dulsissia nods, arms tightly wrapped around herself, increasingly more nervous as they walk towards the Forge. “I understand.”

Davarax enters the room first, she follows, and they both kneel down and wait for the leader of the Mandalorians to approach them.

Feeling every second ticking away as a life lost, Dulsissia has to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to keep quiet. It was bad enough that they didn’t approach her yesterday, but now time might actually be running out.

Finally the one in a golden mask approaches them. “So he managed to bring you back.”

“Yes.” Dulsissia says, looking up at the leader. “But I fear trouble might follow me. There is a man in the Imperial Army. An officer. His brother was killed yesterday. He will want revenge for that.” She swallows hard. “And he’ll want me and my son.”

The Mandalorian leader stares at her for a couple of seconds then looks over at Davarax. “If he comes, we will fight. That is the Way.”

“No.” Dulsissia shakes her head. “No, you can’t fight him. Didn’t you hear me? He’s an officer in the Imperial Army. He will bring his forces here and he will destroy Nevarro. You have to run before he gets here.”

“I was hoping some time apart might clear your mind, but you are still blinded by her it seems.” The leader says, now clearly speaking to Davarax.

“I love her.” Davarax states it like a simple fact.

Dulsissia’s heart does a double-flip, not expecting him to confess that in front of his leader.

“That might be your downfall.” The one in gold armor warns him.

“You don’t like me.” Dulsissia says, her voice sharp with a touch of anger but mostly impatience. “There’s not much I can do about that. But you don’t have to like me to listen to what I’m telling you; you have to evacuate the Covert.”

The leader’s visor turns back to focus on Dulsissia. “We are Mandalorians. We fight. That is the Way.”

“But it won’t be a fight.” Dulsissia insists. “It will be a slaughter. And you have children here! Do you expect them to fight as well? Do you think this man will spare them? Because he won’t.”

Davarax reaches out and discretely touches Dulsissia’s arm in a signal for her to calm down.

“We have stayed in this Covert for many years and survived. Our kind has survived the Imperial Army before. That is the Way.” The leader replies, turning away.

“No.” Dulsissia gets up, shakes off Davarax’ hand and takes a step forward. “Listen to me! Please! This man will come here and he will kill everyone. You had the other Coverts established in case of an emergency. You knew something bad could happen some day. This is that day.”

Davarax is up on his feet too now and Dulsissia can feel his looming presence behind her back, ready to either stop her or defend her, she wonders if he knows which.

“This Covert took in me and my son when we had nowhere to go and we would have starved or worse if not for your help. I may not have sworn the Creed, but you have my loyalty. I would fight side by side with you against this man if I thought there was the slightest chance that he’d fight fair and we’d stand a chance against the number of weapons and soldiers he’s bringing. I would gladly die for these children.”

The armorer takes a step towards her, suddenly uncomfortably close, but Dulsissia makes herself stand her ground. She knows how much courage means to Mandalorians.

“You would die for them?”

“Yes.”

“Then you would stay while they go to the new Covert?”

“Then I am staying too.” Davarax states.

“No, you will not.” Dulsissia snaps, then focuses on the one in gold. “If that is what it takes for you to get the children to safety. All I ask is that you take my son with you. Let Davarax raise him as his own.” Maybe this is the punishment she deserves for not seeing through Macero’s act back then?

Besides, Macero won’t kill her. That would be way too easy. He will make her suffer instead, and that means there is hope for an escape.

Corin will never forgive her, but at least he will be alive and free to hate her and in safe hands.

Nevarro burns.

Most of the buildings here are reduced to ruins after the ships had bombed the area into submission. Powerful bursts of flame now flows through the air as the Flame Troopers wander around in the streets and gleefully tries to set fire to everything. Storm troopers are flooding into the underground entrances that leads below to the sewers and Macero has been told is the Mandalorian hide-out.

Forty standard minutes later, Macero is told that the place is entirely abandoned. No signs of any Mandalorians, his wife or his son.

“It’s said that a Mando brought your wife and a bunch of children on board the Razor Crest.” A Death Trooper reports. “Based on the description, sounds like the same guy as before.”

Usually Macero knows to bottle up his rage and stay calm. He knows Dulsissia is probably poisoning his son’s mind against him, but that can be corrected once Macero gets the boy back.

However, the thought of this filthy Mando, Vecon’s murderer, fathering the next Motti child instead of him… Macero lashes out and sends everything on his desk flying. All those year, all the planning, all the effort it took to get Dulsissia, ruined. “I WANT HIS HEAD ON MY WALL!”

“Sir?” The Death Trooper clears his throat. “Sir, if I may, I have an idea…”

Panting, Macero turns his glare over at the trooper. “What is your name, soldier?”

The Death Trooper removes his helmet and gives him a smug smile. “My name is Dominic, sir. And if you want someone to hunt down this Mando for you, I know just the guy. This one just loves chasing down dangerous prey.”

The new Covert is a lot smaller than the one on Nevarro, but situated in the same kind of dry, dusty environment, underground and next to a small town. And while the structure is ready, it takes no small amount of work to get the place habitable.

For the next three weeks, Dulsissia works herself half to death. She gets up early and is among the last to quit, but the guilt of knowing they had to relocate because of Macero is driving her. Especially when they get the message that Nevarro had been levelled to the ground and was now nothing but a smoking pile of ashes.

Dulsissia expects the Mandalorians to turn on her, blame her for tearing them up from their home, but to her surprise; none of them seem fazed at all and don’t treat her any different than before; with mild indifference.

The leader of the Mandalorians sends Dulsissia a long, indecipherable look when they get the news about Nevarro’s fate, but doesn’t say anything.

Corin competes with Din for having the most nightmares during the first couple of weeks and sticks to her like glue despite her efforts to have him join the other children. He keeps expecting his father to appear at any second and jumps at any sudden sound.

Davarax works even harder than all of them and she barely sees a glimpse of him for what feels like ages. He’s either out gathering supplies or hunting down prey for the bounty so he can buy whatever the Covert needs to become fully functional.

Dulsissia leaves small boxes in front of his door, with food and even some cookies she manages to barter into her possession. She finds beautiful flowers, including ones made out of folded paper when he’s clearly been where none are to be found, in front of her door and she misses him so much she could cry.

Especially as Davarax’ room is as far away from Dulsissia’s as possible and Dulsissia knows the leader has made it so. She may be allowed to stay with the Covert, but is clearly not worthy of him.

Dulsissia feels a bittersweet happiness when Davarax shows up at her door one evening and asks to borrow her for a little while. A quick glance over at where Corin and Raga are playing some game results in her son giving her a brave smile and telling them to go. Her sweet selfless boy.

“Where are we going?” Dulsissia asks as she follows Davarax.

“Nowhere special, I’m afraid.” Davarax says in a tired sigh. “I just got back and I haven’t… I just…” His fingers touch hers as they walk. “I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. Hear your voice.”

Dulsissia braids their fingers together and holds on to his hand. “I’d like that very much.” They’ve barely spent any time together since they left Nevarro.

She is a little surprised when he brings her out of the Covert, circles around the building hiding their secret entrance, and then they sit down on the sand behind it, their backs against the wall.

It’s a lovely view over the desert stretching out in front of them, stars are starting to appear in the sky and there is just the calm hum of the town nearby to disturb them.

“Tell me about the kids.” Davarax asks, carefully sliding his arm around her shoulders and leaning his helmet back against the wall. “Are they settling in?”

She tells him about Din wanting to start with blaster target practice, Raga making friends with her new braiding skills, Barthor working on making a com set for just them, Corin having fewer nightmares and Paz getting into a horrible brawl with a group of older teenagers. Dulsissia also tries to ask Davarax about his travels and how he is, but he keeps avoiding the questions and just wants to talk about her and the kids. She doesn’t push him. He sounds tired enough as is.

It’s when she’s complaining about Decco nearly breaking her arm during their last practice that Dulsissia picks up on Davarax’ deep, even breathing and how his helmet has tilted ever so slightly and barely touches her head.

He’s asleep.

For Davarax to fall asleep out in the open, it really underlines how exhausted he must be and Dulsissia aches for him. So tired and yet he had sought her out instead of rest...

She watches their surroundings, just in case, and she lets him sleep.

The man is exhausted and someone needs to make sure he doesn’t wear himself out entirely. Davarax spends his every waking hour looking after everyone else, but who is looking after him?

Life as a Mandalorian is a dangerous one and she fears what could happen if he’s too worn down to protect himself when danger finds him.

Dulsissia watches, arms crossed and once again with conflicted feelings, when the day comes when Barthor comes preening into the training room with his green helmet on. And to think it’s only two months left before she’ll never be allowed to braid Raga’s hair again…

She’s still not used to seeing Paz wearing his.

Davarax had reassured her that it is allowed to remove the helmet in front of one’s family so at least she would be allowed to see Corin’s face again if he decides to take the Creed, but the fact that he’ll never sit with his friends and feel the sun on his face saddens her.

It also makes her a little hesitant at the thought of wearing one for the rest of her own life.

“Davarax.” A Mandalorian in green and grey armor stands in the doorway. “A word.”

Davarax gestures for Paz to start the warm-up before walking over to his fellow Mandalorian.

The conversation is quiet and even then, after a quick glance her way, Davarax gestures for them to use their HUD com links and cut their external mics. It sets off countless warning bells in Dulsissia’s mind.

When the other Mandalorian leaves, she stalks over. “What?”

Davarax sighs, activates his mic again. “We lost a Mandalorian. He was meant to bring back some supplies but never showed up. Dez found him yesterday. Dead.”

“Dead?” Dulsissia feels ice cold dread spread through her. “Macero?”

“We don’t know that.” Davarax reassures her. “The Galaxy isn’t exactly short of dangerous people, Dulcy. It’s not the first brother we’ve lost over the years. Even on Nevarro.”

“So why do you sound so uneasy?” Dulsissia snaps, hearing the tension in his voice.

“I just…” Davarax shrugs. “It’s stupid, but… A piece of his armor was missing. Why not take all of it? Why just one piece?”

“A trophy.” Dulsissia whispers. “My father and his friends used to do that when hunting creatures. They would take a fang, a horn, something, as a trophy. Bragging rights.”

“As I said, we don’t know. It might be a coincidence. It might be nothing.” Davarax places his hand on her shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry. It’s easy to say and difficult to do, I know. But there is no point in dreading something that might not come to happen.”

He’s right. She knows he is. But that still can’t stop her from worrying.

But then weeks go by and nothing more odd or bad happens. Things are starting to stabilize a little at the new Covert, it’s starting to feel a bit like the old one, and because Davarax is away on a mission Dulsissia even tries to smile in his place the day Raga puts on her helmet.

“It’s not fair.” Din mutters, arms crossed.

Standing next to him, Corin shrugs. “Well, I like looking at your face, so…”

In an instant, Din’s aforementioned face turns a deep red and he loses his battle against a tiny smile. “Y-you’re okay too. Your face. I mean, your face is okay too.”

Corin laughs. “Thanks.”

Din goes even a deeper shade of red.

Behind them, hearing the conversation, Dulsissia places a hand over her heart and nearly swoons over the adorableness of it all. She can’t wait to tell Davarax that her too perfect to be true son has his first crush, on Din! It’s too cute.

When she hears Davarax’ ship has landed, that he’s back, Dulsissia trots towards the entrance to greet him and inform him of this very interesting development.

She comes to an abrupt halt and all the giddy happiness in her chest evaporates when Davarax and two other Mandalorians enter while carrying something between them. A body wearing Mandalorian armor. They leave behind a trail of blood drops as they disappear into the darkness of the Covert.

After that, it takes no more than one week before the next one dies. Nine days until the next. Four days. Every time a piece of armor goes missing.

“Don’t go.” Dulsissia begs, reaching out and holding on to his arms so hard her fingers hurt from digging into him. “Don’t.”

Davarax sighs and shakes his head. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” She argues, desperate. “You don’t. You can stay here. Stay here with me. With the children. Stay.”

“Dulcy…” Davarax gently tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Shaking her head stubbornly, Dulsissia wraps her arms around his waist and holds on tight. Maybe if she just refuses to let go she can keep him here by force.

Chuckling, Davarax wraps his own arms around her and rocks her gently. “Cyare, nothing bad is going to happen. I promise. I’ll come back to you. You think some mercenary can keep me away from you? Not a chance.”

Gritting her teeth and fighting against the tears, Dulsissia tightens her grip. “Don’t go.” He’d just come back from the last job yesterday and he’d kept nodding off all morning. “Please. Don’t.”

“I have to.” Davarax repeats, his hands move up to cup her face and forces her to look up at his t-visor. “When I get back, how about I teach you that dance you saw Roota do?”

“How about you stay and teach me now?” Dulsissia hiccups, losing the battle against the tears as she realizes there is no way she can persuade him to stay.

Mumbling something in Mando’a, Davarax leans down and places his forehead to hers.

Dulsissia covers her mouth with a shaky hand, sobbing quietly as she watches him walk away.

She’s wrong. Davarax comes back without a scratch. And he teaches her that funny looking dance.

It’s the mission after where things goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Dulsissia is walking towards her and Corin’s room with an armful of laundry when she notices helmet after helmet on several Mandalorians turning to look at her.

Blinking nervously, figuring they’ve gotten some kind of message via their helmets, Dulsissia halts, holds her laundry close and half-expects them to tell her that Macero is outside the door or just draw their blasters to shoot her.

“Dulcy.” Decco’s voice says and the Mandalorian comes walking towards her. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?” Dulcy whispers, now even more scared. Corin, where is Corin? Has something happened to Corin? The other children? Is it Macero?

“They brought Davarax back.” Decco says. “He is below. I’m sorry.”

For a second, the words just rattle around Dulsissia’s head and don’t make any kind of sense to her. “N-no…” Dulsissia can’t breathe. She shakes her head, trying to evict the words before they can take root, make sense and reveal the horrible truth to her. “No.”

Davarax is not dead. He can’t be dead. It’s not possible. No. NO!

For the first time there is compassion in Decco’s voice as she speaks. “He fought valiantly.”

Violent shivers shudders through Dulsissia and she fails to notice how the laundry slips from her arms and just fall to the floor. “No…” She shakes her head again, tears welling up and escaping from her eyes. “Please, no…”

She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe!

Decco reaches out to touch her arm and the contact sends a jolt through Dulsissia, tossing her from horrified apathy to desperate denial.

“NO!” Dulssissia runs. She runs down the hallway, towards the door where she had seen them bring the other Mandalorians brought back, lifeless and missing a piece of armor. Every Mandalorian she meets, steps aside and lowers their visors.

Rushing down the stairs, she comes to the corridor below and Dulsissia comes to an abrupt halt when she sees the children there. They are huddled together, Paz doing his best to gather them in his embrace, and she can hear some of them crying from a distance.

The hysteria flares out and turns into an icy numbness.

Dulsissia walks forward, unaware of her own tears and the shivering heaves of air her lungs fight for. She can’t even look at the children, who all turn to face her. All she can see is the is the trail of blood leading to an open door, where she can see someone lying on a make-shift bed.

Due to the angle of the room, she can only see them from the waist down, but she knows who it is because of the helmet lying on the floor next to them.

Davarax’ helmet is stained with blood and lies in a pool of it.

For a second, Dulsissia has to stop. Her chest is compressing so hard that she truly can’t breathe, her heart cannot beat and everything hurts. She closes her eyes and her mouth opens in a silent scream of pure agony.

It’s the sound of footsteps that snaps her out of it. The children approaching her. And it’s too much. She can’t face them now. She can’t.

She has to see.

Forcing her feet to carry her forward, Dulsissia knows she’s on the verge of passing out as she steps into the room, but she enters anyway.

Dulsissia recognizes his boots, his pants, his torso that is once again bared and again covered with blood due to more wounds, injuries they had put bacta patches on, but these won’t heal to become scars. She slowly, almost reluctantly lifts her gaze further, sees the huge pressure bandage to his neck that is soaked through with blood.

And his face...

More hot tears spill from her eyes and Dulsissia tilts her head as she studies him. His hair is as dark as Corin’s, he has more than stubble at this point, a strong jawline and almost stern eyebrows that somehow only enhances the kind expression on his face. He is the kind of handsome that would have had all the girls on Seswenna swooning over him. He’s even more perfect than she’d dare to dream he would be.

Dulsissia can’t hold back an agonized sob.

And that is when he slowly opens his eyes, gorgeous dark eyes, to look at her.

Shock, disbelief, insane hope, everything slams into her at once. Dulsissia rushes over to his side, grabs his hand and holds it between both of hers. “Davarax?”

He blinks wearily. “Hey…”

His voice, unfiltered and drenched with pain, confirming that he is indeed alive.

Now the sobs are unbridled relief and joy, Dulsissia leans down to press kisses to his hand. “You’re alive. Thank the stars, you’re alive. I thought… They said… You’re alive.”

“I’m sorry…” Davarax whispers.

“Sorry?” Dulsissia’s head whips up to look at him, still crying with relief. “What are you sorry for?”

Davarax’ beautiful dark eyes avoid hers, even though he’s clearly too weakened to do much else. “My helmet. They had to take it off.” He swallows and cringes with pain, probably due to the wound on his neck. “To stop the bleeding. I can’t put it back on. It’s not allowed.”

Shaking her head, even more confused, Dulsissia kisses his hand again. “Then don’t wear it. I don’t care.”

“You don’t understand.” Davarax breaks into a couple of coughs and has to grit his teeth against the pain. Sweat is glistering on his skin. He makes himself look at her again. “I’ve broken my Creed. I… I have to leave the Covert. I have to leave you.”

Dulsissia blinks and then she sits up straight. “No. If you’re not allowed to stay, then we will leave.”

Davarax tries to sit up as well but can barely get his head up an inch from the pillow before he falls back with a gasp of pain and has to breathe for several seconds. “Dulcy… You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You were right. The killings.” Davarax swallows, a drop of sweat trailing from his temple. “It was Macero. He hired some… nightmare of a creature. To go after Mandalorians.” He swallows again. “He said he was going to bring… my head back to Macero Valentis. For his wall.”

Dulsissia feels a wave of nausea roll through her. Her fault. This is her fault. She can tell by the severity of the cut to his neck how close this ‘nightmare-thing’ had come to succeeding.

“Without the Covert…” Davarax sounds utterly resigned amidst his pain. “I can’t protect you, Dulcy. I can’t keep… you and Corin safe. From him. Not on my own. You have to stay here.”

Shaking her head, Dulsissia reaches out and ever so gently cups the side of his face, feeling the warm skin and slight roughness of his heavy stubble verging on beard. “I don’t want you to protect me, Davarax. I want us to protect each other. I’m learning to fight and with you I can only get better. And Mandalor help whomever tries to put their hands on my son.”

Davarax almost smiles, but the sadness from his eyes is not banished. And, oh, he looks so tired. “Except for the Razor Crest and my armor, I have nothing, Dulcy. I can offer you nothing.”

Dulsissia reaches out her other hand, holds his face carefully between her hands, and holds his gaze as well. “Marry me.”

“What?”

“Will you marry me?” Dulsissia repeats.

“I…” Davarax looks utterly confused and he even manages to lift a hand to touch her arm. His touch is very cold. “Dulcy, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah.” She says. “Did you hear me?”

“But…” Davarax frowns, the confusion drowning out the pain for a moment.

“I love you.” Dulsissia says, running a thumb along his cheekbone. “I’m not losing you again. Wherever you go, I go. So, will you marry me?”

Davarax swallows. “Yes.”

Dulsissia feels sweet, giddy joy flood her veins. She caresses his face for a little while, fascinated by how incredibly lovely he looks, it’s not fair he gets to have such a handsome face when he’s also the kindest man she’s ever met. “One more question.” She moves one hand down to trail two fingers over his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Something flashes in Davarax’ eyes and he looks strangely nervous when he nods.

“You sure?” Dulsissia asks, a little wary after his odd reaction.

But there is no hesitation in his second nod so she leans down and, mindful of his wounds and weakened state, she gently brushes her lips to his.

It’s just as sweet as she suspected it would be.

But when Dulsissia pulls back, she sees the utterly dazed look in Davarax’ eyes and that combined with the slightly passive response she’d gotten fuels a suspicion in her head. “Was that… your first kiss?” Surely not.

The only thing preventing Davarax from blushing right now is the lack of blood in his body. He finally gives the tiniest of nods.

That stuns Dulsissia for a second and that is when she hears her beloved son’s voice whisper;

“I told you she would find a way. I told you we weren’t going to lose him. I told you!”

Sitting up straight, Dulsissia looks over at the doorway. “If we’re going to live on the Razor Crest for the foreseeable future, we are going to have a talk about privacy, baby. Get your butt in here.”

Corin shuffles in, flushing deep red. “Sorry, mom.”

Din follows him and stares angrily at Dulsissia. “You are leaving too? You and Corin?”

Dulsissia nods. “Yes. We are going with Davarax.” She hears Davarax drawing a pained breath, either to apologize or try to explain or something, so she squeezes his hand gently and shakes her head at him. “You. Rest.”

“What about me?” Din asks, the anger giving way to despair. “I don’t want to stay here. Please. Don’t leave me. If you do, I’ll run away! They will never find me. I’ll die before I go back.”

Dulsissia hesitates. “Baby, I…”

“I want to come too.” Paz steps into the room, followed by Raga and Barthor. He reaches up and takes a hold of his helmet, but Barthor grabs his arm.

“Paz! Take it off and you can’t put it back on. Remember?”

“I know.” Paz replies, shaking off the arm and calmly removing his helmet. The two years have chipped away at the roundness of his face and Dulsissia can see he’s at the very start of growing into the man he’ll one day become. “I’m going with you.”

Raga silently removes hers as well. “My parents have my brothers. I’m just trouble to them.”

Lost for words, Dulsissia merely stares at them.

Before any more words can be exchanged someone steps into the room. The children quickly step back to give room for the Armorer to enter.

Dulsissia tenses up and holds on tight to Davarax’ hand. What does the leader want?

“Get out.” The one in gold armor orders.

The children rush out of the room, but Dulsissia hesitates. She looks over at Davarax.

“Go...” He says. “It’s fine.”

Dulsissia gets up but pauses next to the Armorer. “I’ll be waiting right outside. Okay?”

“Okay.” Davarax replies.

Dulsissia reluctantly steps out of the room, but does what she said; waits right outside the door that closes behind her. The children all stare curiously at her, but she shakes her head at them, not ready to answer questions yet. She has too many of her own.

And most of them are then answered by accident.

She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the room isn’t exactly sound-proof and the door is flimsy.

“I told you.” The leader’s voice says, but sounding… different. “I warned you she would become your downfall. Now look at you, vod.”

“And I told you, I love her.”

“She made you weak.”

“No.” Davarax coughs and grunts with pain. “No, not weak. Without her… I don’t think I could have defeated him, vod. Without her, I think I would have ended up dead. She… She makes me… want to live.”

“Everyone knows they took off your helmet.”

“I’m aware.” Davarax mumbles. “We both knew this was a possibility with that rule. It’s okay.”

“Where are you going to go, vod?”

“I don’t know.” A short silence. He’s struggling to speak, so very exhausted. “I’m going to miss you, vod. Mom would have been proud of you.”

“Promise me you will kill that Valentis vermin.”

“One day.”

“Ret'urcye mhi, vod.” The leader’s voice is back to normal again. And the door opens before she steps out into the hallway. There the golden helmet turns its visor to focus on Dulsissia. “He says he is alive because of you. Make it your Way to keep him alive.”

Dulsissia nods.

The leader then looks over at the children, pauses on Paz. “Your father will not be pleased.”

Paz gives her a weak smile. “When is he ever?”

“That is his Way.” The visor turns back to Dulsissia. “Take supplies from the food storage. Bring Davarax’ weapons. Load up the Razor Crest. I suggest you move fast, as once Dez Vizla learns of this he will indeed not be pleased. And he will blame you. Davarax is in no shape to protect you.”

“Thank you.” Dulsissia means it. “For everything. And I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” The leader replies. “May you find your Way.”

Dulsissia watches the Mandalorian walk away, takes a deep breath and turns back to the children looking at her. While Dulsissia has no trouble bringing Paz along, his father will be livid over him removing the helmet and isn’t fit to raise him anyway, but the rest… “Raga, are you sure-”

“I’m coming.” The girl states, uncharacteristically calm. “I know what you’re going to say, Dulcy. I love my mom and dad, I do, but… I like being with you guys. Back home it is always screaming and punching and stupidheads. One time I fell asleep in Din’s hiding place and when I ran home the next morning, they hadn’t even noticed I was gone. I’m old enough to put on the helmet, I can decide to leave.”

“You have to tell them.” Dulsissia says, and Raga nods.

Corin stares wide-eyed up at his mother, a look of awe he’s only given to Davarax in the past.

Dulsissia looks over at Barthor, hovering in the background and the only one still wearing his helmet. He jolts and shakes his head, so she gives him a soft smile. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry. Nobody is angry with you if you want to stay. That’s perfectly okay.”

Paz and Raga glance back at him and pull him forward to hug him between them, mumbling reassurances that they are not angry with him.

“Din…” Dulsissia says and he is quick to interrupt her.

“I will run away. I will! I swear it!” He steps forward, breathing hard. “Don’t leave me here.”

“We’re not going to leave you.” Dulsissia promises. “But we are going to have to record a message for your parents.”

“They are not my parents.” Din mutters with distaste.

“According to the Covert they are.” Dulsissia points out and closes her eyes for a moment. “Okay. Listen up, here’s what we are going to do…”

Dulsissia and Paz have Davarax between them helping him walk the final steps before they can ease him into the seat. Getting him up to the cockpit of the Razor Crest had been both terrifying and exhausting, but they have managed, somehow, the three of them.

Davarax is soaked with sweat, beyond pale and in so much pain he can barely talk.

Corin and Raga are below in the cargo hold, fastening the crates of supplies they’d brought, while Din is in the pilot seat and already flipping switches and pressing buttons.

Paz gives Davarax a pat on the shoulder and then disappears to help Corin and Raga. Dulsissia checks on the wounds, sees a couple have started to bleed again, but it’s the one on the neck that worries her. The scanner she had ‘borrowed’ from the Covert had given her an idea of the damage done to him and she knows it won’t take much before that compromised artery will tear open. It’s a miracle he’s alive.

“We’re ready.” Din declares as the Razor Crest’s engines comes alive.

Dulsissia buckles Davarax in, gives his sweaty temple a quick kiss that he’s barely conscious to acknowledge and then trots over to stick her head down into the cargo hold. “You guys ready?”

Corin and Raga run over to the fold-down seats and starts buckling themselves in. Paz does a final check on the cargo being properly secured before he gives her the thumbs up and moves over to make sure Corin and Raga are securely buckled in.

Dulsissia gets up and finds her own seat, buckling in. “Okay, Din. Let’s go.”

The Razor Crest shudders and shakes a bit, Din clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the controller and then eases the ship up into the air. “Okay… Here we go.”

Everything jolts a bit as they shoot forward and then race towards the blackness of space.

Once they are gliding smoothly among the stars, Dulsissia dares to unbuckle herself and walks over to check on Davarax. His head is hanging low and he seems to be out of it, but the scanner shows his vitals are strong if a little jumpy. Good.

“Mo-om?” Corin’s voice sounds from the cargo hold.

Ice cold dread strikes and Dulsissia runs over to the door and hurries below. “What is it, baby? What’s wrong? Who is hu..” Her voice dies out as she turns from the ladder and finds herself looking at Paz, Raga and Corin all standing around Barthor, who is sitting on the floor.

“Barthor?” He’s still wearing his helmet, the visor fixated on the floor, so Dulsissia crouches down in front of him. “Barthor, baby, what are you doing here?”

Barthor sighs and slowly lifts his visor to look at her. “My parents don’t care whether I’m there or not. The only friends I have are here.” He sounds horribly defeated. “What choice did I have?”

Dulsissia reaches out and stops him as he lifts his hands and takes a hold of his helmet. “Baby, no. Listen to me. You have a choice. If you want to, we turn around and bring you back home right away. If you want to stay, you stay and we send a message to your parents. And your helmet? You don’t have to take it off. You wear it as long as it feels right to you. Your choice, baby. Okay?”

Barthor nods, trying to hide a sniffle. He lowers his hands and leaves the helmet on. “But I already left them a message. So… I’d like to stay here, if that’s acceptable with you.”

Dulsissia has to smile and nods. “That is very acceptable.” She leans forward and taps her forehead to Barthor’s helmet, to which he ducks his head down with an embarrassed laugh.

That was the beginning.

The beginning of their family.

The beginning of their journey.

And the beginning of the end of Macero Valentis.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #What if #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #It really should be Fearsome FIve now #Mandorin AU #Macero sucks

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snowdice · 3 years

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 66]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

It’s editing time for me because I have not edited in way too long. I am so behind on the Study Fic and this one. Oof. Also I should do some blog organization maybe.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out to the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to go in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see some flowers but all of the flowers as they grew. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits and the leaves were beginning to fall off some. They ended up in the vegetable garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on a direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him, and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin these, so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some left over. Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on you, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop?”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you would like to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at a large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected her to understand his words and the exasperation in his tone.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh, so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

50234

Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

“I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

“Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

“That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

#proofread stories #not writing

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