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butwhyduh · 3 years

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A Date to Remember

Damian Wayne x Superman’s daughter reader

Damian is 20, reader 19, Jon is her little brother at 18 and Kon acts like an older brother to her.

Warning: angsty and kidnapping

You’d always told Damian that the sunset on the Kent farm was the best in the world. Damian smiled a little as he drove down the long road to Smallville. Damian had thought about classic dinner date in one of Metropolis’ fanciest restaurants but you insisted on meeting him in a barn.

He felt underdressed. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Why did he let Jon help him get dressed? He felt ridiculous but at least he wore sensible shoes. But deep down Damian knew you world like it. And he was certainly willing to feel a little foolish for you.

Clark was off world and Lois was on a mission. Jon had his own date in the city so it was the both of you alone tonight. How long had it been since the two of you were alone without someone around? Between his half a dozen brothers and your family with literal super hearing... yeah it’s been tough. So being 50 miles from everyone was kind of a dream.

Damian pulled in the driveway with some flowers and walked up to the house. He knocked on the door only for it to swing open. Damian noticed the splintered door frame and his heart sped up. He called your name. Act like the rich billionaire son while working like Robin, even though he wasn’t quite sure he still wanted the name.

He scanned every surface and he noticed a small scratch near the back door after looking through every room. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. You weren’t there. He looked closely and saw drag marks in the gravel path to the barn. His heart was thundering at this point. You weren’t in the barn either.

You were half Kryptonian but the genetic inheritance was complicated. Jon had won the lottery with having most of his father’s powers and not being as sensitive to Kryptonite. You had lost it. Hypersensitive to Kryptonite and only some speed and increased hearing and strength. Barely about the average human. You weren’t a fighter.

Damian pulled out his phone to call Jon.

“Bit busy here, Damian,” Jon said, sounding far from amused. Damian could hear kissing noises in the background and frowned. He didn’t want to hear that.

“Your sister is missing,” he said and he heard a lot of movement on the phone.

“What??”

“The door jam was kicked in and there are scrap marks of her being dragged away. I think she’s been kidnapped,” Damian said. His voice felt tight. He, son of Batman, let his girlfriend get kidnapped. “Whoever it was clearly waited until she had no other Kryptonians around to grab her. It wasn’t a coincidence that she was taken tonight. Can you get out here? I’m calling father to try and trace her. Her phone is missing too.”

“I’m leaving in 5. Damian, if Luther has her, she can’t handle Krytonite,” Jon said, worry bleeding into his voice. “It’s like it poisons her.”

“I know. But we don’t know who has her. Let’s hope they don’t know she’s part Krytonian,” Damian said, already mentally moving on to his next step. Contact Bruce. Get the bat computer to trace her. Look for more evidence. Don’t freak out completely that she might be poisoned by Kyrotonite.

“Okay. I’m about to fly. I’ll see you soon,” Jon said before hanging up.

——————————

You woke up with a cough. You head throbbed and your stomach rolled as you laid in a bed? Maybe a couch? It was a horrible feeling but you knew exactly what it was: Kryptonite. You couldn’t forget what how that stuff made you feel. You tried to look around to see it but the room was completely dark. Night vision would be nice but you got human eyes. Your slightly enhanced hearing heard nothing but the wind outside. Okay, you were ground level or higher.

You tried to twist in the cuffs that bound your hands only to cry out. There was the Kryptonite. It was on the outside of the cuffs and you almost threw up at it touched your skin. You were cuffed with Kryptonite to a hospital bed, you figured. What other bed had areas perfect for cuffs? Your legs were equally restrained and you felt so exposed in the dark room.

Your dad was off world. He wouldn’t hear you if you called for him. But Jon might. But if you yelled, someone might come in and who knows what they would do. You’d wait a little bit longer. You wanted to fall asleep. The Kryptonite made you feel so dull. Like the first time you were exposed to it.

You were all of 4 years old. Your dad had brought you with him to the Justice League meeting. Relatively safe and Batman promised Robin would watch you. Dick was so excited to be a babysitter. You had hugged him tight enough to hurt before running to the climbing wall.

“Hey!” Called the 16 year old. “I brought games instead!”

You warily walked back over to him and card games and board games fell out of a duffle bag as he opened it. Half the stuff you were far too young for. You bent down as he scooped up his gameboy. You pulled out some games and open a side pocket to grab a small metal box. Dick sat down his gameboy carefully before turning back to you.

“Don’t open th-“ he started before you pulled open the box to show a bright green stone. Followed by you throwing up all over his bag of games. You dropped the box and sat on the floor. Dick quickly closed the box with the piece of Kryptonite and put it in his pocket. He had boroughed one of Bruce’s bags that apparently wasn’t fully unpacked.

“Dad, I don’t feel good,” you said as Clark ran over. Dick looked at you so guiltily.

“I didn’t know,” he swore. “I’m so sorry.” Bruce stood by quietly.

“We need to talk later,” Clark had told Bruce and yeah, they were mad at each other for a while.

——————————————

Jon arrived shortly in a dress shirt and slacks and he looked at Damian just as weird as Damian looked at him. They had basically switched clothing.

“Not to judge but that’s date clothing? You told me to not wear flannel,” Jon said accusingly.

“That’s because your sister wanted me to wear this,” Damian said back. “Let’s focus on finding her. Father’s calling me now. We’ll change in a minute.”

“Hello, you’re on speaker phone,” Damian said.

“Her tracker is showing a warehouse owned by Luthor Corp in downtown Metropolis,” Bruce said. “Do you need help? I can see if Dick is nearby.”

“No thanks. Jon will help me. Thank you, father,” Damian said before hanging up.

“Luthor. I knew it,” Jon said with a frown. “Wait, you put a tracker on my sister? Does she know?”

“Now is not the time. Let’s get to Metropolis,” Damian said, changing the subject while both got dressed. Jon nodded and offered his arms. “I’m not being carried like that. I’ll hold on your back,” Damian said. Jon rolled his eyes and nodded again.

As they flew over corn fields and pastures, Jon began to question Damian. “So when did you put this tracker in? Does she even know? Where is it? Do I want to even know?”

“It’s sub-dermal in her forearm and I haven’t told her yet. And it’s irrelevant right now as it might save her life,” Damian said and Jon looked disgusted. “We need to focus on saving her and then you can be her angry brother.”

“Wow...”

————————————

You moved and the cuffs burned your skin. You gasped and screamed “Jon! Kon!” You called out to them hoping one of them would hear you.

“Dad!” you cried frantic. There was no way he would hear you. “Damian! Jonathan! Conner!”

You panted and your head pounded. You were so tired. You’d lose consciousness if no one saved you. Then who knows what they would do to you.

“Superman!” You screamed desperately before finally passing out.

——————————

“Did you hear that?” Jon said as they flew towards the Metropolis skyline.

“No all I hear is wind. What did you hear?” Damian said.

“Y/n. She’s calling for us,” Jon said speeding up.

“Is she okay?” Fear bled into Damian’s voice.

“I can’t tell. I’m trying to hurry,” Jon said flying quickly towards the industrial area of the city. He landed on the roof of a warehouse. Jon’s eyes glowed as he looked through the building.

“7 men. 4 posted outside the door to the room that’s she’s being held on the 2nd floor. Her heart rate is steady and she isn’t screaming any more. Almost sounds asleep,” Jon said after his analysis.

“Probably tranquilizer. Father’s data said this building is used for research purposes. Does that fit?” Damian asked.

“Uh more like research subject holding. Maybe a small lab on the first floor but other than cameras everywhere, there isn’t much science stuff that I can scan. But also the basement is sealed off,” Jon said.

“How?”

“Lead bound. You can check it out while I rescue her. 4 guys is nothing,” Jon said making a fist.

“Hold on. Luthor would probably have her surrounded by Kryptonite. Just in case one of you look for her. And that’s the last thing we need,” Damian said. “I’ll rescue her and you look for the basement. Knowing Luthor, it’s probably an entire facility of experiments below. He just hadn’t gotten her room ready yet.”

Jon looked frustrated. “Fine. You rescue her but be careful. She is the weakest of us. She’s not invulnerable to bullets or anything.”

“Most of the people I rescue aren’t either,” Damian reminded him. “And I’m certainly not taking a chance with my beloved.”

Jon looked over to respond but Damian was already gone. Just like the rest of the bats: silent goodbyes. Jon quietly moved down to the first floor. He was working but at the same time, his ear was trained on his sister’s heartbeat. Jon might be the younger sibling but she didn’t have powers and he felt so protective.

—————————————

Damian rolled his eyes at the 5 ways he could see that the security sucks in the 3 minutes he hung out the window before climbing in. Large rafters and guards who didn’t bother to look up. Not to mention the fact that they let there be a solid wall between the set of guards which meant that Damian was easily able to jump down to knock them out in pairs without the other set knowing. If the security was any worse they would leave the door unlocked.

The door wasn’t unlocked but it was a deadbolt that Damian easily disabled. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was on purpose. He gulped before opening the door. What if you were really hurt? Or dead? Ignore and get in there.

Damian opened the door and he felt white hot rage. You were tied to a bed and were unconscious. You were in a nice dressy shirt and sweatpants. They’d clearly taken you while you were getting dressed. Damian wanted to kill them. He had to take a breath to help you. Jon was taking them out and Damian was on rescue. He had to stay level headed.

Even the cuffs on your wrists were inadequate. If they had attempted to restrain Damian, he would have gotten out in 3 minutes. When he was 6 years old. The Kryptonite had left nasty red burns on your skin and he clenched his jaw at the sight. Jon better be punching extra hard.

Damian picked you up bridal style and you groaned a little before turning your head against his chest. The farther he got you from that fucking Kryotonite the better you were. He took you to the roof and you started waking up.

“Damian,” you said softly and a little confused.

“Hey you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asked looking all over your face for injury.

“Kryptonite. I hate that stuff,” you said. Damian grabbed your hand and you hissed. He looked to see bright red knuckles. You’d clearly fought at some point. He certainly knew the signs of punching someone.

“You fought back?”

“Yeah and hitting someone in a helmet and body armor sucks. I got just a few in before they pulled out the damn rock. I throw up every damn time,” you said shaking your head.

Before Damian could comment on how brave and stupid it was to punch body armor, there was a huge crash down on the first floor as someone flew in the building through the window. You grabbed him tightly.

“What the hell is that?”

“Kon. Conner’s here. I’m up here,” you yelled.

Conner flew up to the roof. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Kidnapped. Damian and Jon saved me. He’s still down there actually. Can you check on him?” You said. Damian suddenly stood up.

“What if you were a distraction and the real problem is downstairs?” Damian suddenly said with clarity. The Kryptonite alone was enough to hold you down. The half ass security was to hold their attention when they rescued you. Jon was already flying back down before Damian could say more. Damian weighed his options: leave you alone, bring you with him, or stay out of it and while the last sounded nice, he’d have to go in case of more Kryptonite.

Before Damian could decide, Kon was back on the roof. “You’ve got to come see this.”

Downstairs was a lead lined basement. That alone had you nervous. Jon stood by the door. Little spattering of blood could be seen on his hands. He had a hard look.

“Warning: this is going to be messed up,” he said and you were even more worried. You walked in to see cages. Kids. Unconscious adults lay around in the hallway. “They were experimenting on them.”

You felt nauseous.

“My father is on the way. This is much bigger than I thought,” Damian said messing with his comms. His free hand was on your shoulder protectively.

There were 8 kids in cages. Bruce was running tests on their blood and investigating the area as you helped to get them out of the cages. What a terrible Valentine’s Day.

“Beloved, let’s get you home. We can stay at the farm tonight. You need sleep,” Damian said worried. You looked at him distracted.

“They’re just kids.”

“Come on. Let’s go. Kon is going to stay there too. Just for the night,” Damian said helping you up. Kon flew you both back to the farm.

“I’m going back to help. You okay, kid,” Kon asked as Damian inspected the house.

“I’ll be alright. Just help those kids,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said ruffling your head. You rolled your eyes. “But seriously, the way you screamed I thought you were being murdered.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Kon knew when to quit. Something he had learned from Tim. He gave you a big hug and flew off towards Metropolis.

“Hey. I made your bed so you can sleep,” Damian said quietly. “And a change of clothes.”

You nodded and went upstairs. Damian helped pull off your shirt and put on a sweater. He looked at the marks around your wrist and red knuckles but didn’t note any more bruises or cuts. You pulled on sweatpants and climbed in small twin bed that Lois kept for guests. The pink and yellow flowery quilt felt warm and comforting on your skin. Damian lay beside you after changing and looked at you seriously.

“What is it,” you asked.

“I was so scared tonight. I have been doing this for years and I’ve never been so worried,” he said softly and you looked down and flushed. If you weren’t so freaking sensitive to Kryptonite this wouldn’t have happened. Damian gently lifted your chin and you looked at him.

“I was scared to lose you,” he said running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m going to drive you absolutely mad because I don’t want to take my eyes off of you.”

“Yeah?” You said with a little smile.

“Uh hm. But first sleep,” he said and your body certainly agreed. You curled into him and rest your head on his chest. His arms held you tightly before rubbing your back. You fell asleep to Damian staring at you. He stared at you all night, not even sleeping when Kon came in a few hours later.

———————————

“I have to know what all that was, Bruce,” you said at the Batcave the next day. “I was in there.”

He looked at you for a minute. “They were experimenting with meta DNA. All of those kids have gifts and they wanted to take you too. There were even plans to inject those kids with your blood to see if it would affect them.”

You shivered a little at the thought. Lex Luthor and his obsession with Kryptonian DNA.

“All the records were burned. Most of the warehouse too. Your brothers were.... thorough. And Clark will be home in a few days,” Bruce added.

“Really?”

“Yes. And he’s furious at Luthor. Probably will call soon. He wanted to let you sleep earlier. We’re just running programs here. Why don’t you and Damian go upstairs,” he suggested.

“Bruce Wayne,” came a stern voice behind you. You turned to see your mother, Lois Lane, looking like she was going to beat up Batman. “You put a tracker in my daughter without her permission?”

“You what?” You said.

“Actually that was Damian. Though I want to point out that it helped save her life,” Bruce added. Lois slapped him soundly across the cheek. Bruce just blinked and rubbed his cheek.

“Damian, you put a tracker in me?” You asked shocked. You’d assumed Jon had heard you or Damian’s detective work brought them to the warehouse. Not an invasive tracker in your body. “What the hell?”

“Well I can explain..”

#Damian Wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #robin x reader #Damian Wayne angst #valentine fic #batboy x reader #dc #fns

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

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Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #kingsley tealeaf #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

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🔥Wings of Freedom (Part 2)🔥

A/N: Finally got part 2 done! Thank you for your patience with this mini series, I’ve been so busy with school lately and I still have so many drafts that I’ve been trying to publish them evenly so I don’t keep you guys waiting for anything too long. Thank you so much for your support, I love all of you so much and I can’t wait to show you the other stuff I have planned for this blog. I have a few requests on the way, so stay tuned for that, but for now, here is the sequel to Wings of Freedom (finally)!

Part 1 is here if you haven’t read it yet!

🐉Song Recommendation: “Machine” By: MisterWives 🐉

Word Count: ~3.9k

~~~

Levi felt like he was experiencing deja vu as he glanced around the courtroom from where he stood beside Erwin, waiting for Hanji to come back. Only, he felt a lot more nervous. The first time, he had felt nothing but an impatience to get the event started, his eyes hard and cold as he had looked down at an immature, green-eyed brat who could turn into a titan, waiting for his future to be decided as either a useful tool for humanity, or a human experiment to be tortured in a lab. Now, his insides were doing their best impression of a pretzel, churning and twisting until he felt sick with worry. This wasn’t going to be a meeting about some random brat from the streets, this was concerning the fate of the love of his life.

The night she had come back had been bittersweet for both of them. They had spent the night wrapped up together, (Y/N)’s wings out for the first time around Levi, the warm membranes curled around him protectively so he could feel her heartbeat thrumming through his entire body. They had been cuddled close, holding each other like it was the last time they would be able to do so, unsure of what events would unfold the next morning. Both Levi and (Y/N) knew everything was about to change, knew (Y/N)’s fate would be challenged and decided the next day, but it didn’t stop the anxiety from rolling around in his gut, making his stomach give another violent lurch.

“Hey,” Erwin said lowly, placing a hand on Levi’s shoulder when he noticed his friend’s queasy expression, “She’s going to be alright. We will fight for her with everything we’ve got.”

Levi managed a stiff nod in Erwin’s direction, his heart warming at his friend’s support. Although Levi had never doubted his friends, he had been surprised by how supportive and accommodating they had been when Levi had announced (Y/N)’s initial reappearance. They had both expressed their immense relief at her safe return while Hanji worked to heal her bullet wound, keeping her enthusiastic questioning to a minimum at Levi’s insistence.

Levi’s thoughts were cut short by the appearance of said energetic scientist, the tall brunette carefully picking her way through the rows of gathered officers and moving to stand on the other side of Erwin.

“She’s doing okay,” Hanji said before Levi could even open his mouth. “She’s a little nervous but that’s normal. Everything else is going smoothly so far, so she will be brought out in a few minutes.”

Levi nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was trying his hardest to stay calm, to keep from lunging at Premier Zackley and strangling him until he promised to let (Y/N) go, but it was starting to strain on him. His skin broke out in a sweat as he forced himself to take deep breaths. He could do this. For (Y/N), he could do this.

He immediately looked up at the sound of the large wooden doors opening with a loud creak, his attention settling on the (h/c) haired woman handcuffed between two guards, her head down so her hair curtained her expression from others. His eyes narrowed and a low growl slipped from between his lips at the sight of the bruises on her arms and legs from the chains and cuffs she had been wearing in her cell. His blood was roaring in his ears as he fought every instinct he had to swoop down and bring her back into his arms. He had almost lost her once, he wouldn’t lose her again, no matter the cost.

Her wings were hidden, the huge black membranes tucked safely in the slits of her back, away from the prying eyes of the assembled soldiers. That at least gave Levi some relief, the knowledge that the extra sensitive appendages were kept from harm or unwanted touch.

The dull chatter in the courtroom hushed as (Y/N) was brought to the center of the room, pushed into a kneeling position on the same platform Eren had been placed on just a few years prior. One of the guards holding her leaned down and clapped her manacles to the sturdy metal post behind her, double checking that she was secure before backing away, moving with the other guard to stand on either side of Premier Zackley, guns at the ready.

The room was so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop. The people in the room barely breathed as they waited impatiently for Zackley to finish preparing his notes, eager to see if they rumors were true. The Premier cleared his throat, shuffling the papers in front of him as he peered down at the woman on the platform from over the top of his glasses.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

(Y/N) looked up when her name was called, her eyes hard as she stared up at the older man.

“Yes.”

“Member of the Survey Corps. Age (#). Cadet under the command of Squad Leader Hanji Zoe,” Zackley read off, glancing at her after every sentence for her quick nod of confirmation. “It looks like you have no criminal record, but your place and date of birth are unknown, so that technically can not be confirmed nor denied outside of the information gathered during your time as a soldier.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard but did not respond, waiting, just as Hanji had told her to do, for the Premier to make his point. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be patient, knowing that if she rushed this, if she wasn’t careful, she could easily be thrown to the wolves.

“It looks like, based on these reports, that you are a loyal soldier who has a clean background, a solid record, and a hard working personality, since it is labeled here that you are about to be promoted to Squad Leader,” the Premier leaned forward, “that means, we are here for a different reason entirely. Tell me, do you know why you are here?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) answered clearly.

“Very good. Now, without further ado, this court is now in session.”

As soon as Zackley opened the floor, a man from the Military Police stood, a smug grin on his face as he glanced at the annoyed scowls of the Survey Corps officers who were watching him.

“Premier Zackley, thank you for that wonderful introduction,” the man started off, making Levi roll his eyes so hard they hurt. “I would like to start off on behalf of the Military Police and say that this woman should be placed in our custody.”

The Survey Corps officers exchanged glances at that. They had been expecting the man to rant on and on about how she should be tortured, experimented on, or killed, not taken in by another branch of the military. The one closest to the King, no less.

“Interesting, state your case,” Zackley said, folding his hands in front of his face.

“We believe she could be of great use with us, sir. She could be a viable source of protection for our current ruling monarch, and we could use her to increase funding for our resources and supplies. Nobles would come from miles around to see her, it’s something we can use to better the lives of all of the soldiers in the military! Instead of groveling for money at their feet, we could charge them to come see her, within the safety of the walls, perfectly ready to display for anyone who is willing to pay.”

(Y/N) had to fight to keep from grimacing in disgust at the thought of being constantly gawked at like some kind of freak, put out for people to see as if she were some sort of entertainment for them, rather than a human being trying to fight for humanity.

“What use is earning money from her like some kind of exotic beast if our soldiers keep dying?” Erwin cut in, making (Y/N)’s eyes soften at the sound of her friend’s hard voice trying to make others see reason. “She is needed in the Survey Corps with us, it’s what she was made for. She can continue to fight against the titans with us, allowing us to give her the proper protection as she uses her gifts to make fighting these man-eating monsters a hell of a lot easier. She would waste away if she was stuck within the walls with the Military Police.”

“Well, as I see it, Commander Erwin, she can’t be trusted outside of the walls with you. She hid this for how long? How many years now has she let her comrades die over and over again, never stepping in to save them? According to her reports, she didn’t try to assist any of you during your missions other than with the normal efforts displayed by every soldier, at least, until she apparently saved Captain Levi. And rumor has it, those two are sexually involved with one another, which would make for that incident to be purely based on bias rather than a change of heart. If she really was meant to be a helpful tool for humanity, she would’ve become that by now.”

Erwin shook his head, his hand reaching out slightly to touch Levi’s forearm when the shorter raven-haired man opened his mouth to retort. “She has already explained to us her reasoning behind that. If she had shown herself on base, she would’ve risked getting hunted or killed, or getting those around her injured if someone decided to use her friends and comrades as blackmail for her capture. If she had shown herself on the field, she would’ve risked sending her comrades into shock, making it difficult, if not impossible, for them to concentrate on the mission, running the risk of twice the number of soldiers dying. She has tried to find the right time to reveal her gift to us, but it’s been nearly impossible for her, something that was proven by the men of the Garrison out on the field when she finally did reveal herself, only to get shot and chased.”

“So you are saying that she was justified in letting the hundreds of lives she could’ve saved die? Because she couldn’t find the right timing?” The Military Police pig said incredulously, his every word like a punch to (Y/N)’s gut. “I was unaware the soldiers of the Survey Corps were so selfish, cared so little about their men in battle. If this doesn’t further bolster my claims, I don’t know what would.”

“That’s not what I said,” Erwin said, his voice cold. “I said-”

“And you brought up the men from the Garrison,” the MP cut off Erwin, smiling wider at the glares thrown his way. “I have actually brought them today as witnesses. They would like to say a few words, if that is alright?”

The Premier thought for moment before giving a slow nod.

As soon as the all clear was given, the MP motioned for two of the Garrison soldiers who had fought beside the Survey Corps that day to come forward. (Y/N) growled low in her throat at the sight of the men, especially the bigger of the two, the one that had shot her. She noticed Levi tense out of the corner of her eye, knowing he remembered just as well. She threw him a quick reassuring glance just as Hanji placed a hand on his shoulder, imploring him not to react. Levi managed to calm himself, crossing his arms over his chest, but she could tell it was taking every ounce of effort from him not to kill the man.

“Names?” The Premier asked.

“Louis Bordgenson.”

“Graham Pickett.”

“Bordgenson, Pickett, could you please explain why you are here? Why do you believe (Y/N) (L/N) should be placed under Military Police custody?”

“We were two of the few to witness what happened when (L/N) saved Captain Levi from the titans, sir,” Graham said. “We are here to support the Military Police in their decision of taking (L/N) into their custody because we believe that what we saw on the field is a perfect example of the Survey Corps’ shortcomings as a branch. They need to be improved, restored with proper management and leadership. And it all starts with weeding out the soldiers that need to be corrected, allowing them to reevaluate their life choices in a place that won’t get others killed. Out on that field, we were attacked by all of the Survey Corps officers when I shot at (L/N) for my own defense, without even pausing for a moment to consider the situation. That woman attacked me, nearly knocked me right into a titan’s mouth with her wings, and flew off, leaving her comrades for dead, even as they still fought for her in the end.”

Louis nodded along with what Graham was saying before opening his mouth to add on. “Exactly. And when we got back from beyond the walls, we were arrested for attacking a Survey Corps officer. We were called lunatics, psychotics, for claiming to have seen a winged woman, and yet, here she is. We were right all along and none of the Survey Corps officers stepped forward to say it was wrong. To top it all off, when she came back, they sheltered her! Hid her with them and tried to pass everything off as normal.”

“From what I saw, (Y/N) (L/N) did not attack either of you,” Erwin said, cutting the two younger men off from continuing with their ranting diatribe. His tone was sharpened ice and his voice was filled with venom, waiting to strike like a snake in the shadows with barely suppressed fury. (Y/N) felt a conflicting wave of pride, gratitude, and apprehension wash through her. She loved Erwin, he was a close friend of hers, but that sometimes made her forget how god damn scary he could be when upset.

“You boys seem to have forgotten that you two were not the only ones on the field that day. From what everyone else saw, (Y/N) performed a great service to save a comrade, exposing herself in the most vulnerable way possible to try to help us escape. To help you, escape. She never singled you out, never tried to approach you in any manner other than one of friendly disposition. She did knock you over with the power of her wings as you mentioned, but she only did that because you were standing too close to her in your attempt to capture her for yourself. She was just trying to fly away peacefully, and would not have left us on that battlefield if you had not ordered your men to charge and fire. Your imprisonment was valid, and your accusations are dramatized and inaccurate.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes as Erwin’s last word rang out. Her stomach was churning and she felt lightheaded, her heart conflicted with so many differing emotions at once. She was grateful for Erwin and the Survey Corps, her friends who were fighting for her, fighting for her future, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she didn’t deserve them and their efforts. While she hated to admit it, the men from the Garrison weren’t wrong. She had spent years hiding her wings away, failing to save her comrades because of her fear, watching as they were devoured when the faster speed of her wings possibly could’ve saved them. Her head drooped a little as the men in front of her fought. Could she even call herself a soldier? A scout? Did she deserve to fight alongside them? Did she deserve… Levi?

She sucked in a shuddering breath, willing the tears to stay back. Maybe she did deserve to be nothing more than an animal to be viewed in a cage. Something to be gawked at and displayed like some kind of trophy. Could she even be considered human? She was so abnormal, so fucked up, mentally and physically. How could she possibly be considered safe enough to be around those she cared about?

Just as she was about to succumb to the notion of her worthlessness, a sharp, deep voice made her eyes snap open and glance to her left where her lover was standing steadfast beside his commander, his silver eyes burning like molten iron.

“Now listen here, all of the claims you have made so far have been either disproven or provided with solutions. (Y/N) has been nothing but the most amazing soldier, dutifully working to take care of everyone around her and constantly fighting for a better world. Just because you fuckwads can’t get your heads out of your asses long enough to see it, doesn’t mean it’s not true. (Y/N) was faced with an incredibly tough decision in her life, and she’s been forced to deal with it ever since she was born. She is just human. Simply, wonderfully, human, and there is nothing wrong with the choices she made,” Levi said, making (Y/N)’s eyes water with the love she felt for the raven-haired man.

“I know she will continue to be a necessary asset for the Survey Corps, where she can keep doing what she knows how to do best. If we lock her up in some manor to be cooed at by nobles, we will be lost. For god’s sake we have to deal with Jaeger every day and she’s significantly less of a threat than he is, but has twice the amount of usefulness to us.”

“Oh, as if that little experiment is going so well,” the MP said with a sneer. “The Survey Corps got custody of that one and look what’s happened? Cities destroyed, people lost. Captain Levi, your own squad got brutally murdered by an abnormal on an expedition because that titan shifter was too useless to do anything to help you. If we let you take custody of this one as well, we fear that the odds of humanity winning this war will shift further downwards. The fate of every human within these walls is in the hands of the Survey Corps soldiers. The last thing your branch needs is another distraction, or in better terms, a mistake.”

(Y/N) winced at the insult, her body flooding with icy fear as murmurs of agreement floated through the crowd. She knew she should’ve expected this possibility, had even reminded herself of the fact when Erwin left to tell the Premier about her existence earlier that week. She had known from the moment she had agreed to reveal herself publicly and use her gifts in battle to fight the titans and save her friends that this could happen. She could be turned against, experimented on, taken back to a cage and locked up, just as she had spent most of her early life. But even knowing about it didn’t stop the anger, the fear from filling her from head to toe, making her shift nervously on the wooden platform. She wanted to speak, wanted to say something to counteract what the Military Police were claiming, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing it was for the best. If she started talking now, fueled by her emotions, after spending the entire time staying quiet, it would look as if she was becoming desperate, trying to hide something. And with how hard Levi and Erwin were fighting for her, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin everything by opening her stupid mouth.

Levi and Erwin were about to retort when the Premier held up his hand, his eyes closed as he waited for the room to settle down again. The room quickly hushed. (Y/N) waited, her entire body tense as she stared up at the Premier, her heart thumping so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

Everything will be fine.

“Based on the claims made by both parties, I have come to a decision on where the defendant shall be placed until further notice,” Zackley said.

I won’t let them take you away from me.

“While both parties have put forth compelling arguments, I can not determine whether or not bias or deceit is at play here on either side. It is because of this that I have decided to put you in the place that I believe would be the safest for humanity should things take a turn for the worst.”

No matter what, we are in this together, wings and all.

“(Y/N) (L/N), I am officially placing you under the custody of the Military Police, where you will be kept and cared for until I can find the proper evidence to prove your innocence.”

I love you.

(Y/N) felt her world shift. She heard Levi’s roar of fury, Erwin’s sharp voice ringing out into the hall as he tried to reason with the Premier, Hanji’s screech of shock and anger, but no words registered. The Military Police. Anything but the Military Police. She wanted to struggle against her binds, wanted to roar and scream and snap, wanted to stretch her wings and fly away, far away, just her and Levi together. But she couldn’t do that. She hung her head, unable to hold back the tidal wave of tears this time as they slid down her cheeks in clear rivers, running down her soft skin to splatter on the floor beneath her.

She could practically hear the smirk in the MP’s voice as he thanked the Premier and barked orders at his assembled soldiers to grab her. She wanted nothing more than to slap that smug grin off his face but she knew she couldn’t. She forced herself to take deep breaths as she felt hands rain down on her, touching her, dragging her, chaining her.

When she was finally unhooked from the steel post in the center of the room, the Military Police soldiers holding her tightly between them, dragging her towards the door, (Y/N) managed to look up. She caught Levi’s eye from where he was being held back by both Erwin and Hanji, the sorrow and desperation in those stunning gunmetal hues making her heart shatter. She didn’t know when she’d see him again, if she ever would see him again. And even if she was granted the opportunity to see him, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him, kiss him, love him like she always did.

Even though her heart was being ripped to shreds, (Y/N) managed a watery smile in his direction, her lips moving to mouth the words, “I will see you again, I promise,” to him. She saw him stand a little straighter, a glint in his eye as he took her words to heart. She just knew that he was going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

No matter what, we are in this together, wings and all.

(Y/N) kept her eyes on him as she was led back through the large wooden doors of the courtroom, refusing to look away from her lover until the doors had completely shut behind her, officially separating her from the love of her life.

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kitkatt0430 · 3 years

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So I saw a gifset from the episode Power Outage that reminded me that in season one - and presumably season two - Ralph Dibny is actually dead. He died because of the accelerator explosion in December 2013, but presumably due to Flashpoint he's alive by the time season four rolls around. (So he's actually alive in season three.)

In the show, the only two people who might have realized that Ralph being alive is a product of Flashpoint are Barry (because he lived in that pre-Flashpoint timeline) and Cisco (because Vibe powers). But neither of them mention it, so I guess we'll never know for sure that his survival isn't actually down to the Legends meddling with time (like the Scooby-Doo gang, but with a significantly cooler ride - sorry, not sorry, Mystery Machine).

Anyway, all of this has reminded me of a fanfic idea I've had in the back of my head for a while.

So it'd start with Barry's return from the Speed Force at the start of season four. Iris and Eddie are married and various other changes abound as i see fit. Barry comes back still massively out of touch with reality and writing in the speedster glyphs and Wally gets help from Jesse to defeat the Samuroid bot. Also Wally isn't Kid Flash anymore - he has taken on the mantle of the Flash in his own right.

Barry starts recovering slowly, but as he does his understanding of the glyphs he's writing with wanes... even though he keeps doodling them all over the place. He winds up quitting his job at the CCPD because he's just... not in a place where he can hold down a job right now. He's also not 100% sure anything is real and that he's not still stuck in the Speed Force and he's reluctant to seek out therapy because of his experiences with therapists as a child were not good and also he'd need to discuss being the Flash which... not happening.

Which is when the bus metas start showing up (out of show order). Wally gets the indignity of the marble-related pratfall and accidentally meta-cuffing himself. Barry starts to gain more confidence in himself and his reality when he's able to shut down the accelerator before it goes critical, moments before Wally successfully cuffs Hazard. (Presumably the accelerator actually exploding would have been very unlucky for Becky, so something would have to make it shut back down, right?)

Linda returns leading to relationship drama for Wally and Jesse. Wally finds Linda attractive but would never cheat (also Linda's really only aware of him as Iris' younger brother right now), which Jesse knows but she feels jealous anyway and she doesn't like what that says about herself. She also feels like she's stretching herself really thin trying to protect Earth-2, act as Jay's back-up on Earth-3 (because he's starting to slow down and is still looking for an apprentice, but hasn't told anyone on Earth-1 what's happening to him yet), and both date and help Wally on Earth-1. It's too much work and too much stress and too much running between different Earths. She eventually decides that, much as she cares about Wally, their relationship isn't really what she needs right now and they part ways. A hopefully more satisfying break up than what we got on the show with that cube thing. Also the thing with Kilg%re happens.

Barry realizes - using Cisco's translation program - that he keeps writing something about a bus in the speedster glyph doodles. (Cisco's translation program is incomplete.) OG Team Flash connects Becky and Ramsey back to Bus 405, which Barry... er... Flashed the day he returned from the Speed Force. (hehehehehe) They're able to identify Ralph and a few other people who were on the bus because their bus passes were logged on boarding. It's still not clear who was on the bus at the time Barry Flashed it (*snicker* i regret nothing). But Ralph had to be because, well, he boarded the bus the stop right before the Barry accidentally acted like an EMP on the bus' electronic systems.

And Barry's issues with parsing reality are triggered because he remembers two versions of Ralph thanks to time traveling and memory integration - let's just say that Barry has memories of both pre and post Flashpoint timelines and say the story would theoretically handwave it better than I'm prepared to do right now. So Barry remembers this version of Ralph, who faked evidence and was a dick to Barry (almost misspelled that as being a duck to Barry). But he also remembers another version of Ralph, who didn't fake evidence and was Barry's friend and died in a car accident trying to reach the hospital after finding out Barry'd been struck by lightning while Ralph was at home and off duty and should have been safe. (Hello Barry's guilt complex which no one actually missed.)

Barry's memories are a tangled mess (gee, thanks Speed Force), so Caitlin goes with Barry and Joe when they meet Ralph. And Ralph's knee jerk reaction to keep them at arms length - especially as he's concerned they're crooked, which isn't that ironic from his PoV - is to combine obnoxiousness with sarcasm and pepper in some misogynistic comments that piss off Caitlin enough that Frost pops out to play. Joe clearly freaks out and tries to pretend he isn't freaking out. Barry just... goes with it. Whatever, Frost is part of Caitlin and Caitlin is part of Frost and he doesn't have the time, inclination, or the survival instinct to go "enemy sighted, begin defensive measures". He's just kind of like "hey Frost, nice to see you again, I've been hoping to talk w/you, but can it wait until we're done with Ralph? Or is Caitlin not gonna give you enough time for that? 'Cause I guess we're basically done here anyway."

Meanwhile Ralph is quietly freaking out with a blank O_O expression. Because Killer Frost. KILLER FROST. His fight or flight instincts are weighted heavily to freeze in place and hope to spontaneously blend into the environment.

Which is when the mob guys show up and Barry just kind of starts laughing upon learning that this version of Ralph is basically living a crime noir plot because the other Ralph loved that genre so much. Something triggers Ralph's powers while Frost cheerfully freezes the bad guys shoes to the floor and Joe arrests them. Ralph insists he was never blackmailing anyone, and Barry and Frost wind up taking him to STAR Labs while Joe waits for Eddie to show up to help him take in the thugs.

Barry and Frost do end up talking - Cisco side-eying them hard even as he gets Ralph settled in to wait for Caitlin to come back. And Barry apologizes to Frost. For how the team treated her and how Savitar treated her and just... everything. He'd like to hope they'd have handled the situation better if they'd understood Frost was a separate personality entirely, but the truth is they fucked up and pushed Frost into the position of thinking turning to Savitar was her only choice. And he hopes that she'll give them a chance to do better by her this time. Frost says she'll think about it and pretends she's not tearing up as she lets Caitlin take back over.

that's kind of where my ideas dry up and I'm not really ready to tackle writing any of this as an actual fic yet, but... I kind of saw this as a series that would include my headcanon for Ralph being face blind and him eventually bonding with Barry over the similarities between Ralph's struggle with accepting his disability and Barry's struggle in acclimatizing to his own post Speed Force incarceration disability, but with the adding drama of Barry's friendship with the Ralph-who-died and his guilt there complicating things too.

Barry would eventually take up the mantle of the Flash again with Rip showing up shortly after to borrow Wally for the Legends, though I've got no idea how that would play out. And Julian's still in there somewhere since he's still the CCPD's CSI even though Barry's had to quit. I imagine Ralph and Julian would very much not get along. (Julian and Eddie, though... they would definitely get along.)

#the flash #unfinished story idea #alternate season four story idea #as for where harry is in all of this... um... yeah i have no idea #he's there though #the speedster glyphs would wind up being important for helping them defeat DeVoe somehow #like... barry's blocking a lot of his traumatic speed force experience out but it's still in his subconscious #so there'd be him starting to remember and dealing with all of that

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unholyhelbig · 3 years

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part 2 of the mitchsen journal au? where aubrey feels confused as the beca in the journal is different than the beca she's meeting?

[A/N: Ah, this isn’t exactly what you asked for, and I’ve also lost my touch because I haven’t written Mitchsen in a very long time. Apologies!]

Read the first part here

Beca Mitchell woke up to the scent of eggs and the sound of bacon pushing grease into a pan. There was an even stream of light moving through the house and she fought the urge to stretch her feet to the edge of the bed, her fingers against the headboard. It would cause more pain than pleasure at that point.

She could feel the cold heat of the bullet wedged against her ribs. Beca always imagined it carving into the bone and creating a secret language that only she and the gunman could understand. This code meant she couldn’t’ do regular stuff like stretch or lift anything over twenty pounds until she got it removed.

But Beca didn’t’ want to see the inside of an OR for a long, long time; Not those neon lights that bred discomfort or the sharp stinging scent of antiseptic. She could see the worry in her doctor’s eyes as they tried to keep the blood inside of her where it belonged.

As long as it didn’t shift, and it hadn’t, she could keep it inside. She could wear it like a battle scar, a reminder- a symbol.

Emily was making breakfast and Beca flinched when the toast popped. She kept her breath silent and hugged her shirt closer to her body. Her roommate hadn’t whipped up anything stronger than cereal for the past four months. There must have been an occasion, or a change in lifestyle- or something that had the girl humming over the stove.

“I have a present for you on the table,” She said, not turning around.

There was a little journal in the center of the mahogany circle, expertly placed between some mats that echoed the Fourth of July, because that was the closest holiday and she let Emily decorate for anything and everything, knowing it brought her simple joy.

“What’s this?” Beca asked, picking up the book, the leather was cool against her palm.

“that is a journal, you know, to write in and stuff.”

Her roommate had a worried smile on her lips as she divided the eggs and set the plates respectively in their claimed seats. They hadn’t eaten a meal together in about a month, but even that wasn’t more substantial than a pizza shared over a cheesy film.

“I figured… but why are you giving it to me?”

She was grateful for the food and the kindness, and the way Emily had been trying to get her out of her shell again after the accident. She had tried, she had always tried, to entertain the idea. The idea of a therapist and a court-appointed lawyer that went after the man who had done this. But she sat quietly in both scheduled meets and nodded along.

“I think it would be a good idea to get your feelings on paper,” She loaded her fork up with steaking potatoes and eggs, “Not saying that you absolutely have to. You can burn it, or you can draw or, I don’t know, I think it would help.”

“I appreciate it, really, I do-“

Emily reached across the table, fingers warm from cooking and eyes warmer still “I want you to be okay, Bec’s. Just give it a shot. For me?”

Beca grabbed a piece of bacon, the heat residual from the pan pressed against her fingertips. She used her other hand to turn the journal around and look at its expert crafting. She supposed it could help, and if not, at least it would humor Emily.

“Thank you,” Beca settled “For breakfast, for this.”

She had an appointment later that day. There was a little annoying reminder in her phone that buzzed at the start of her day and then again an hour before she had to be at the office. It was downtown and took half an hour to walk, only ten minutes to drive, but Beca chose to walk. She always walked to Doctor Mallie’s.

The clinic tried its hardest to be warm, with its hand-painted pictures of the mountains and its smiling receptionist who grabbed her insurance each time before going back to filing her nails with that unsettling scratch. Beca picked up a random magazine each time and waited while her stomach dropped. She never registered the words, or the pictures, for that matter. But she wanted to look like she did.

She would get weighed and be reminded of her height before a cuff was put around her arm and an unfamiliar pressure lasted for a few seconds. And then she was waiting again. The tips of her boots would touch the linoleum and the lights overhead were buzzing. There weren’t any magazines for her to pretend to read here. Nothing but a photo of the inside of the human heart.

“Beca, you look well,” The woman said as she entered the room.

She was older, with salt and pepper hair that reached her shoulders. She forbade the classic white lab coat and went for a nice pink blouse instead. She never went straight into it, she asked her about life and about Emily, and about the diner before asking Beca to take her shirt off so they could get a good look at the bullet.

Her gloved hands were warm and cooking all at once. “It looks good, really, it does. You’ve been healing nicely and your vitals are steady. Blood pressure is a little elevated but I’ll chalk that up to white coat syndrome.”

“Thank you for that,” She started to rebutton her shirt “it’s still okay to keep it in?”

She got a hard look from Doctor Mallie, the steeliest one she could muster. The woman had been in children’s medicine before retiring and picking up a few extra shifts at a local clinic. It still made Beca want to shrink, so she focused her numb fingers on buttoning her shirt.

“You know I advise you to take it out. Anything that’s not naturally supposed to be in the human body should be removed. And before you make a crude joke about that, I’m referring to a chunk of lead.”

Beca sighed, but not too deep because it still pinched and pulled. “Five out of five doctors recommend removal.”

“Then maybe you should listen to one of us five, huh?” Doctor Mallie smiled weakly “Look, Beca, I know that this is important to you, a reminder of what happened. But I think… I think it would be a good idea to take it out. Physically it won’t harm you, but mentally, well, that’s a bit out of my expertise.”

She nodded and finished with the last button, considering the woman’s point. There was no blood, no russet paste moving against her skin. That feeling of stark coldness as it spread against the tile and she heard the popping of the gun- it had all been momentary.

Maybe she should listen. To Emily, to Doctor Mallie. To anyone but herself, because what did she know?

Beca checked out with the receptionist, who was being cautious with the fresh coat of paint on her nails. She tried not the breathe the chemical scent it, tried even harder to walk the next few blocks to the diner. Her stomach rolling with the thought of food and the memory of something more.

Alice greeted her with a steaming cup of coffee and a broad smile. She would spend hours there, sometimes full days, just watching as customers walked in and out and the pie spinner kept up its slow crawl. Today she pulled out the journal, today she started to write about the appointment and the way Emily had stuck post it’s all over the kitchen to get her to remember. Today she wrote until her hand throbbed and the ink left little black spots on the page.

She did that for days, that April. Sometimes stopping at the office to make sure metal hadn’t soaked into her blood (Mallie explained that to her a few times, and she let herself get stabbed every once in a while) But she didn’t understand at all.

The journal helped, and she spent more time with Emily. She got nearly to the end of the leather-bound book before she had lost it altogether, and a dull ache ate away at her. But Beca didn’t admit that she missed it, or that her thoughts had been compromised by the darkness of the world.

Instead, she ordered a slice of cherry pie from Alice, ran her fingers over the bullet in her ribs, and resounded to the fact that she would start over that she would buy another journal and keep moving forward.

That day, her eyes flicked up each time the door opened. It had started to rain, but the sun still shone oddly through the thin grey clouds. But the scent of the spring day seemed to follow the patron in. She worked her fingers through damp blonde curls and flashed a startling green stare directly at Beca.

Out of all the seats in the small little diner, she chose the one next to her, accepting a cup of coffee and sliding a familiar leather-bound journal across the counter. Beca could feel her heart in her throat. “You uh, you should be mad, but I thought you would want this back. It seems important.”

It was so very important. She took three even sips of coffee, not caring much for the way it bit at her throat. “You got it back to me,”

The woman let out a breath and the floral scent that pulled at her was warming and captivating and Beca smiled into her cup as she took another sip to hide her pleasure in the closeness. Alice watched the interaction with a knowing gaze but when to tend to the only other occupied booth in the place.

“I’m Beca, by the way.” She said.

“Aubrey,” the woman switched into business mode, grabbing her hand in a firm shake “You have quite the story to tell.”

“Nice to meet you, Aubrey” Beca lifted a brow and tapped the cover of the leather book “Want to see a cool scar?”

#Beca Mitchell #Aubrey Posen #Mitchsen #mitchsen fanfiction #emily junk #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction #requests

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13dead-ends · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6 Weddings and Birthdays

Chapter 6 of Blood Bound

Henry Cavill x Named OC

Summary: Henry takes Nina to a wedding and surprises her for her birthday. Nothing could ruin Nina’s day except that one thing...

Word Count: 5360

Warnings: descriptions of riots, estrange family member, swearing, slow burn sorry not sorry

A/N: So so so sorry this took forever! my laptop stopped working and I finally could afford a new one! so look forward to more updates! Also the next chapter is a Halloween one! Also shout out to @hellcaster901 she’s amazing for always reading my stuff before I post! I hope you enjoy!!

I walked down the hallway to my apartment door. I fumbled with my keys to separate the right one from the others. I almost missed the box leaning against my door. I looked at the label and it had my name on it, but I wasn’t expecting anything. I opened my door and carried it in. I put it on my counter and got a pair of scissors. I cut it open and perfect fit inside was a solid black box with a note taped to the lid.

Nina,

Please wear this tonight. I’ll see you at 3.

-Henry

I chewed on my lip. The box was just black, now I know it’s clothes inside, but it had to be expensive. What was it? I slid my hand over the smooth cardboard. I pulled out my phone and texted the man himself.

What’s in the box?

Why don’t you open it and find out?

I rolled my eyes, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anything out of him. So, I pulled the lid off and put it to the side. Wrapped perfectly in tissue paper was a pretty black dress, a matching handbag next to it. I held the dress against my body. It hit me mid-thigh and the sheer fabric of the sleeves would cuff at my wrists when I put it on.

If I wear this, I’ll mess it up.

But do you like it?

I had walked to the mirror in my bedroom to look at it on me. It was pretty. I blushed at the thought of him picking it out for me.

Yes, I love it. Thank you, Henry.

Good. I’ll see you tonight.

I sighed and laid the dress on my bed and went back to the box. I took the purse out and threw away the tissue paper. I looked at my watch. It was only noon, so I hopped in the shower. When I got out, I did my makeup.

Where are you taking me?

I sent a text to Henry.

It’s a surprise. Don’t worry too much about it.

I rolled my eyes. He really wants me to freak out. I continued my makeup and tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong. Around fifteen minutes before Henry was supposed to be here, I was ready. I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was on now and I had packed my new purse with my things. I decided to wear the shoes he got me while shopping from before. Maybe the extra height will be good for whatever we’re doing. I smoothed the dress down. It fit really well. He somehow got my size right. I went out to the kitchen and tried not to freak out.

Right at 3 o’clock, Henry knocked on the door. I bolted out of my seat and grabbed my bag and went to the door. I opened it and Henry stood there in an all-black suit, matching nicely with my dress. I smiled at him and he looked me over.

“You look beautiful.” He told me.

“Thank you. For the compliment and the dress.” He held out his arm and I linked mine through it. “You look great.” He smiled and my knees felt weak.

“Thank you, love.”

“So, can you tell me where you’re taking me?” He smirked over to me as we walked down the hall.

“It’s just a friend's wedding, okay?” He laughed.

“Oh! I mean I hate small talk, but I can handle a wedding.” I waved my hands. He chuckled.

“You don’t mind coming?” I shook my head.

“No, of course not.” We took the elevator and got to his car. I was relieved it wasn’t something with cameras. I wasn’t ready for that. We drove out of the city a bit, and it was quieter. The trees got a little thicker as we drove and soon, I saw a pretty cabin with wedding decorations out front. The cabin was huge as we pulled up to it. Henry parked and helped me out of the car like a gentleman. I could hear soft music playing from inside. He linked our arms as we walked to the door.

“So, tell me about your friend.”

“His name’s Andy, his soon to be wife is Jessica.” I smiled. “He was one of the writers for Tudors.” I nodded.

“Alright.” I know names, that was good. “I love weddings.” He smiled.

“This should be fun then.” Inside was a beautiful open space, a large chandelier hung from the ceiling. Long benches sat in rows in front of us and in front of that was a small stage for the bride and groom. There were people milling around already. Some even sitting down waiting for the ceremony.

“Henry, you made it!” Henry and I turned around to see a man in a nice tux, a flower in his collar.

“Scott, hey.” They shook hands. “How are you and Kayla?”

“I’m great.” He was glowing, smile wide, hair was pushed back with gel, but it was getting messed up but the second. This must be the groom. “Just wanting to get this started. Kayla’s somewhere hiding until the ceremony.”

“Congrats on the wedding.” Henry smiled. “It’s good to see you. Are you still writing scripts?”

“Oh of course. I was actually wondering if you…” they spoke about a show for a little bit and Henry introduces me to him, but then we have to go sit for the ceremony. We sat in a bench on the groom’s side, our thighs pressed against each other as more people came and sat down. Soon enough the ceremony started, and they went through all the motions. The bride was beautiful and glowing just as much as her fiancé. They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.

The reception was held in a different room inside the large cabin. Tables and chairs surrounded the dance floor and another chandelier hung from this ceiling. Guests were milling around already, and soon enough Henry found someone he knew, and we got into a conversation. I didn’t say much, I liked listening to Henry speak about his work with his friends.

“And who’s this?” Henry had just introduced me to Charlie, another writer friend. His wife, Becca stood next to him.

“Oh, this is my friend, Nina.” He shook my hand. “She’s a writer too.” I shook my head nudging Henry.

“Well, sorta, I’ve never been published-“ Charlie chuckled.

“As long as you’re writing you’re a writer.” I smiled. “What do you write?”

“I write articles for a news website at the moment.” I swallowed.

“There you go. Do you like journalism?” Henry’s hand pressed into the small of my back.

“Of course! It’s great!” Charlie nodded, and was about to reply until the wedding party was announced. Henry led me to our table, which happened to be with Charlie and Becca. She sat next to me and the guys sat outside of us.

The bridal party came out couple by couple and then the bride and groom came in, Scott was carrying his new wife in his arms. She giggled as they walked up to the main table, sitting in the two center seats. They said their speeches and soon we were eating. Turns out Becca and I got along. The only person she knew was the one who brought her, just like me. Henry had his hand on my thigh most of the time. As we finished, Henry and Charlie were pulled away to the small patio outside the room. I spoke with Becca for a little while longer and decided to go find Henry again.

His friends walked inside as I walked out. He stood looking out onto the wooded area in front of him. The patio was lit with twinkling lights and a small fire pit in the center. I walked right up to him and stood by his side.

“Hey, Nina.”

“Hey.” I sighed. “I have a question.” He turned to face me, giving me a half grin.

“What would that be?”

“How did you get the right fit on my dress?” I turned to face him; our chests almost touching.

“I have a good eye.” My cheeks heated up. “And I remembered a little from our shopping trip.” I laughed.

“I hope I at least seem normal to your friends.” I mumbled.

“You’re amazing, but I would like to hear you speak more.” I looked down, but he pulled me closer, our chests touching, and I was forced to look up at him. “Thank you for coming with me.” I felt myself rolling up on my toes. I tilted my head up and I could’ve sworn I saw Henry come closer, but he stopped, shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw.

“They’re cutting the cake.” I let out a breath, my heart was racing, and I knew he could hear it.

“Oh,” I swallowed. “Okay.” I leaned back, popping the bubble we had created. He linked our arms as we went back inside, and when I sat down, I wanted to pour. Did I read the situation wrong? I really thought he was moving toward me. Did he not want to kiss me?

We went back in and watched as the happy couple smashed cake in each other’s faces. I sighed. I got caught up in the wedding, he probably did too. Weddings get everyone excited. We ate cake and then the dancing starting. Becca pulled me away to dance. After a few songs we went to the restroom together.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Henry?” I swallowed as I fixed a piece of hair.

“We’re friends.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Close friends it looks like.” I shrugged feeling heat rise up my neck.

“No, it’s not like that.” I shook my head.

“Oh, come on, do you not see how he looks at you?” I stared at her. “You both already look like a couple.” I let myself smile at that.

“Well, we’re not.” She shrugged.

“Yet.” She giggled and we went back out. We went out and found our dates. Henry had training in the morning, so we didn’t stay for much longer. We walked back out to Henry’s car and started the drive back. It was quiet and I looked out the window, trying not to think about the almost kiss we shared tonight. We’re almost back into the city when both of our phones rang almost at the same time. I furrowed my brows and grabbed my phone.

“That was weird.” Henry turned onto the next street. I unlocked my phone and saw it was a news notification. I opened it and gasped. Some footage of a riot breaking out in front of a donation company. I recognized it. It was a popular company, called My Type, but they only had labs. They donated by the bag, plus part of their supply goes to hospitals around the area. Windows were smashed, and smoke billowed out of two of them. People outside were running around. At least they hit it late at night, so hopefully no one would be inside.

“There’s a riot at a donation company.”

“Right now?” Henry looked at me for a second.

“Yeah, I think so.” Videos filled my social media and it looked like they were anti-donors. “It’s probably anti-donors.” I rubbed my temple.

“Christ,” He huffed as we entered the city. I kept looking for more information, but they were still rioting, and police hadn’t gotten control yet.

“Isn’t that building close to your place?” Henry had gotten close to my place but slowed down.

“I’m not sure, let me-“ Henry stopped as a few cop cars flew down past us, turning down my street. “Shit.”

“You shouldn’t stay so close to that tonight. You’re stuck with me.” He looked over to me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just worried,” He put a hand on my thigh, squeezing.

“I know, me too.” He sighed. “Let’s just get to mine and relax.”

“Okay.” Soon enough we were at his place, Kal was at the door, all but running us over with excitement. I smiled, scratching behind his ears and around his neck.

“If my dog likes you more than me, we’re going to have to end the contract right now.” Kal hadn’t even noticed as Henry kicked off his shoes.

“Oh, I could never. He’s all yours.” I told Henry, booping Kal’s nose. Kal made his way over to Henry now, tail wagging. “See?” I kicked off my shoes and set my bag down.

“You can borrow my clothes again if you’d like.” Henry stood up from Kal.

“Yeah, thanks. I love the dress, but I’m ready to get out of it.” I caught a small smirk on his face as he turned down the hallway. I blushed, realizing how my choice of words could be taken. I pursed my lips and went to the bathroom shutting the door. Okay, so I almost kiss him and now I’m spending the night. I face palmed and leaned on the door. My heart couldn’t handle the confusion. I did prefer sleeping here. Who knows where the rioters would go tonight? I chewed on my lip, too much has happened tonight. I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’d be in Henry’s house, without a buzz to put me to sleep and with all the events from today running through my head.

“Nina! It’s on the news.” Henry called. I opened the door and went out to the living room. Henry was standing by the coffee table, holding the remote. I sat on the couch, looking at the television.

“The police have locked down Fifth and Third,” the news caster said. “But things are still escalating close to the donation company.” I swallowed. The images of busted windows and police in riot gear gave me goosebumps. There were cars on fire and people darting in and out of frame.

“Police advise residents to stay in their homes, remember to lock doors, and stay safe.” I rubbed my arms.

“Maybe we should board up the windows.” I joked but didn’t laugh.

“I don’t think they’ll get this far, but I won’t let anything happen.” Henry didn’t look at me. He had taken his suit jacket off, his black button up, straining against his large shoulders.

“God, I hate this.” The screen cut to footage of some paramedics pushing someone into an ambulance. I shut my eyes.

“I really hope that building was empty.” Henry cracked his neck as the donation building flashed on the screen. We watched it for a little while and then I really needed to get out of the dress. Henry gave me clothes and I changed, gently placing the dress over the couch so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

“You ready for bed?” Henry shut off the tv and came over to me.

“Yeah, and I don’t have to take your bed this time.” I patted the couch.

“No, Nina. It’s fine.” I huffed. “You know, it is big enough both of us.” My face warmed up. “Of your comfortable with that.” I blinked. “Let me get changed.” He went to his bedroom and I caught my breath. Can I sleep next to him without freaking out? What if I snore again? I shook my head. I heard the door click open again and I took a deep breath. Fuck it.

“Let’s just get to sleep.” He was already climbing under the blankets. I tried to calm down as I walked over to the other side. I got in bed and then Kal pushed his fluff ball of a body in between us. I laughed. “He’s making sure there’s no funny business.” Henry winked at me and I laughed. He turned the bedside lamp off and we were in the dark.

“Goodnight Henry.”

“Goodnight Nina.”

When I woke up next, I was sweating, and my heart was racing. I shot up in bed, still feeling like I needed to run. I had a nightmare about the riots. I tried taking deep breaths to calm down and pulled my knees up to my chest.

“Nina? What’s wrong?” Henry’s voice made me jump. I forgot I was in his bed.

“Um, it’s fine.” I rested my chin on my knee. “Go back to sleep.”

“Your hearts beating so fast right now, I don’t really think it’s fine.” He sat up next to me. Kal had moved during the night, so nothing blocked him from pulling me closer, his big arm wrapped around me. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah. About the riots.” I let myself lean into him a little, his presence felt good.

“Are you alright?” He rubbed my arm slowly.

“Yeah, I think so. It was just intense.” He sighed.

“I’m sorry, love.” He squeezed me tighter.

“I just need to go back to sleep.” I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“Come on then.” He pulled us down on the pillows and didn’t let me go. I let myself smile and cuddle closer to him. I shut my eyes and it didn’t take long for me to fall back asleep.

When I woke up again, I was in Henry’s arms still. I was laying on his chest, one arm stretched across his stomach and his were locked in a loop around me. I smiled again and relaxed back into him, just five more minutes.

Suddenly a big ball of fur jumped up on the bed, waking both of us up completely. He licked our faces and stepped all over us. “Kal!” Henry yelled, laughing. “Get down you big oaf.” I laughed as Henry pushed him away to no avail. “I’ll feed you, if you just calm down.” Finally, Kal jumped down, by now I had rolled over to avoid being suffocated. Henry sat up. “Sorry Nina, go back to sleep.” He got out of bed and pulled the blankets up for me, but it was still cold without him. He stepped out with Kal and I smiled. I could get used to that. I let myself think about waking up like that every morning. Just for a second. I must’ve fallen asleep to the dreams on my head. Next thing I remember is Henry waking me up with a gentle hand on my arm.

“Nina, wake up.” He said softly. I didn’t open my eyes.

“Five more minutes.” He chuckled.

“No come on. I’ve got to get you home.” I opened my eyes, and he was smiling down at me.

“Okay, fine.” I took a deep breath. “I’m assuming the riots are done?” I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

“Yeah, for now. They did arrest a few people last night.”

“Good.” I huffed. “Anyways, good morning.” His blue eyes were bright as he looked at me.

“Good morning.” I got up and went to the bathroom. “Nina, you can just take those clothes home, so you don’t have to put the dress back on.” Being locked in the bathroom, I let myself be excited about it.

“Thank you!” I adjusted the large T-shirt I was in. “I’ll bring them back as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry about it, love.” I stepped back out and we left his place. “I don’t mean to kick you out so quickly.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place.” I buckled my seat belt as he pulled on to the street.

“I just have training today, that’s all.” I nodded.

“Well, have fun and be careful.” He snuck a glance at me and smiled.

“Thank you.” He dropped me off and kissed my cheek goodbye.

I pulled the phone away from my ear as Irene yelled. “Happy birthday Nina!” I laughed; I was lying in bed when she called. It was midnight here, the exact minute I got a year older.

“Thanks Irene.” I rubbed my eyes. “You’re always the first to say it.”

“Of course! Has my package got there yet?”

“Yes! It got here yesterday!” Irene had gotten me a fancy new journal I had told her I wanted. “I’ll probably started writing in it soon.”

“How’s the article about the riots going?” Of course, after the riots last week, I started writing a draft of an article. It was longer this time, and I still hadn’t gotten all the information I needed. Investigations were still being done, obviously, so it’s going to have to be an ongoing article.

“Alright. I’m still trying to find all the information I can.”

“I want you to be careful okay. It’s tense in LA too. You need to stay home at night.” I rolled my eyes.

“So, I have Henry, and now you’re nagging me.” Henry had been a little more protective of me lately. He made sure I was home at night, with calls if he couldn’t come see me himself. As much as I teased him, I loved it.

“Because he’s not an idiot.” She sighed. “I just worry.”

“I know, thank you. I’ll be careful.”

“So how is everything with Henry?” I could picture her wiggling her eyebrows.

“Good, I think.”

“You almost kissed him last week, now it’s just good? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong! That’s what’s wrong. I don’t know what to do.” I rubbed my face. “He almost kissed me, Irene. Not kissed me. Obviously, whatever I’m feeling, is one sided. Which is fine. He doesn’t have to like me, but god damn it I’m confused.” She laughed at me but didn’t stop my ramble. “He can be impossible to read, which isn’t very fair sense he can hear the tiniest change in my heartbeat. He knows when I’m nervous, which is too often when I’m around him. He just looks at me sometimes and it gets me going.”

“Have any more of those dreams lately?” Irene teased.

“Shut up!” I kicked my feet like a child, but I felt better now that i said all that out loud.

“Have you tried actually asking him if he likes you?” I scoffed. “And him not kissing you isn’t an answer.”

“It may as well be.” I muttered.

“No, you have no idea what the man’s thinking. Maybe he got nervous, or thought you wouldn’t be into it, or literally anything.” She sighed.

“The thought of asking him makes me want to vomit.”

“Well, then I guess you’ll never know.” I groaned and rubbed my temples. “Don’t complain. It’s your choice, but that means you have to make it.”

“I know, you’re right.”

“My advice is to just ask him, and then you can stop being annoying about it.” I laughed. We talked for a little while longer and then I went to bed. I woke up to the sound of a knock on my door. I groaned and got up, throwing a robe on and tying the band around me. I looked through the peep hole and saw a delivery man holding flowers. I pursed my lips together and opened the door.

“Ms. Locke?” I nodded. “Can you sign here?” I signed his paper, and he handed me the vase.

“Thank you.” I shut the door and set them down on the island. I stepped back. They were roses. Of course, they were roses. They were a beautiful deep red. It wasn’t huge but they were beautiful. I picked the card of the plastic stand.

Happy Birthday Nina.

~Henry

I smiled. I didn’t say anything about my birthday to him, but I knew you could look up donors' birthdays at the company. I had looked up his. I did know that he was filming. Maybe he would keep it simple, but I obviously couldn’t expect nothing. I put the card back and pushed the vase in the center of the island. I went back to my bedroom and got dressed. I was getting myself breakfast at my favorite coffee shop and I was going to continue researching my article there for a while. Then I wasn’t sure what. It was my birthday though. I’d do what I want.

I followed through with my plan and now I was sat in a corner of a coffee shop, gaping at videos of the riots. There weren’t any deaths reported as far as I could find, but a few hospitals had a lot of injuries and who knows how many didn’t go to a hospital. I was typing out a draft as it came to me and I had alerts on my phone for certain sources and Twitter feeds. I rubbed my temple as I deleted a sentence, typing it again in another way. This was a big article; my editor already was emailing me for a draft. The last article had gotten some of the higher ups at the website attention and they were excited to see my next piece. The pressure was difficult this time, but I’d manage. This stuff needed to be talked about.

I huffed when my phone started ringing, I really didn’t want to answer it, but when I looked and saw Henry’s name. My initial irritation washed away, as I answered. “Hi Henry.”

“Happy birthday, Nina.” His voice was bright, and it made me smile.

“Thank you. And thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you liked them. How’s your birthday so far?”

“Good. I got some breakfast and I’m working on the article now.”

“How is that going?”

“Good, there’s just a lot I still need to write out.” I finished the sentence I was on and leaned back in my chair.

“I’m sure there is. I can’t wait to read it though.” I smiled, Henry was the first person ask me if I was going to write an article and just thinking of that made butterflies in my stomach.

“Well I hope I don’t disappoint.” He chuckled.

“You won’t. Anyways, I was calling to ask you something.” I chewed on my lip and just waited for him to ask. “I know it’s your birthday, but filming is gonna go late and I was wondering if you’d go hang out with Kal for a while?” I sighed, thank god it wasn’t some fancy dinner or something. “I didn’t bring him, and I don’t want him to be lonely.”

“Honestly, dog sitting is the best birthday gift ever.” He laughed. “Of course, I’ll go see him.”

“Thank you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll have Penny drop off a key.”

Around five, I walked up to Henry’s, excited to see the big fluff ball. Henry asking me to do this made me all kinds of happy. I got to the door and unlocked it. When it opened, my nose was immediately filled with the smell of cooking food. I furrowed my brows. I heard jingling metal and Kal came running to me. “Hey, buddy. Are you cooking me dinner?” I whispered to him as he enjoyed the scratches behind his ear.

“Surprise!” Henry came in next, wearing casual clothes, and holding up a glass of wine out to me.

“Henry, what’s going on?” I gladly took the glass, though. Slipping off my shoes.

“I wasn’t going to do nothing for your birthday.” I smiled, my cheeks getting warm. “I’m making dinner.” My heart fluttered.

“For me?” I followed him to the kitchen. It smelled like spices and was slightly warmer than the rest of the house.

“Yeah, of course. I’m making roast. I hope you like it.” There was a timer on the oven that was almost done, and the dining room table was set beautifully with two places. I think I hadn’t stopped smiling since I walked in. “Go sit, it’s almost ready.” I sat down, sipping my wine.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll love it. It already smells great.” I told him. He smiled at me before going to the oven. I watched as he pulled the pan out and my mouth watered. He got us plates and came to the table.

“Henry, thank you so much.” I grinned as he sat down, setting a plate down in front of me. He sat across from me, but if he were to set his arm down just right, I’d be able to reach out and hold his hand.

“You’re so welcome. I didn’t think you’d want anything big-“ I jumped when my phone rang in my pocket. I rolled my eyes, reluctantly pulling it out. Henry’s chuckled at my reaction. “It’s fine.” I looked at the screen and my stomach dropped. It was my mom. I gulped. “Are you going to answer it.

“It’s my mom.” He pursed his lips. “You don’t have to; you don’t owe her anything.” I shut my eyes and took a breath.

“I know. Just give me five minutes.” I stood, cursing this woman as I walked to the bathroom. I knew he could probably still hear, but I didn’t want him to see whatever reaction I was about to have.

“Mom?” Part of me thought somebody might have died. What time even was it in California? The last time we spoke was because my grandfather had passed.

“Nina, I just wanted to call and say happy birthday.” I chewed on my lip leaning on the counter.

“Oh, thank you, mom.” There was a hefty silence. I cleared my throat. “Look, I’m actually with someone, I should get back- “

“How have you been?” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to not have a panic attack.

“Good mom, actually really good.” I suddenly felt like bragging. “I live in London now. In my own apartment.”

“London? Honey, that’s great. How’d you end up there.” I clenched my jaw.

“Work.” The silence returned and a lump formed in my throat.

“You’re still- “

“Yes.”

“Alright.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Well, have a good birthday, Nina.”

“Thanks, Mom.” We didn’t hang up for a moment, both waiting on the line, then it went dead.” I set the phone down with a slow hand and tried breathing in deep, but it felt like my chest couldn’t expand that far. I remembered feeling the same tightness when I found out I had a peanut allergy. My mom sped me to the hospital as my thermostat swelled. It was like the tightness when I first told them I was donating. My mom’s eyes changed that day.

“Nina?” A soft low voice came at the door. “Are you alright?” I shook my head and fixed myself in the mirror.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Let me try your food.” I opened the door, trying to seem okay. I can’t let her get to me anymore. Before I could go back to the table, Henry pulled me into his big arms, setting his chin on my head. I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head in his chest. The hug washed almost every negative feeling I’m feeling away. “Thanks.” I whispered. He led me back into the table and we talked about light things. I laughed as he told me a story about Kal chasing birds and I showed him pictures of my new jack o lanterns. I don’t know if the wine or him was the reason, but I felt warm.

Our plates were cleared away, but we still sat at the table. It was quiet now though, our last conversation finished. “Can I ask you what your family’s like? At least from before, when you were growing up?” Henry asked.

“Well, I wasn’t planned, so my mom was eight months when they got married. High school sweethearts and all that.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling like I ate too much. “They were pretty normal, though.” I shrugged. “Standard American couple.”

“Did you have a good childhood?” I nodded.

“I think so. Up until I graduated I had really good relationships with them.”

“I’m sorry, Nina. I wish I could-“ I shook my head.

“There’s nothing anyone can do, Henry.” I reached out and touched his hand. “Thank you anyways.” It was quiet as I let my fingers linger on his skin.

~~~

Taglist!

@xxxkatxo @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @lamthetwickster @thatgirly81 @vikingsbifrost

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic

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kk095 · 4 years

Text

The VIP

*I'm sorry I haven't posted in awhile. This story may have some typos, but I hope everyone enjoys!*

Tara Thompson was a pop/country singer who recently achieved stardom. Her debut album sold millions of copies, had ample amounts of radio/streaming airplay, and even won her a Grammy award. She recently purchased a beautiful and expensive house in Los Angeles, and was getting acclimated to the celebrity lifestyle. Tara seemed to have it all: talent, money, newfound fame, and of course, looks.

She was a 27 year old blonde, standing at 5'5 with beautiful blue eyes, a nice California tan, and a toned but petite body. She carried herself confidently (some would say borderline cocky) and had a good sense of humor, which made her a favorite amongst talk show hosts and fans alike.

Yesterday, fate had other plans for Tara. She was a trauma patient at our emergency department after being involved in a high speed MVC. At first, we didn’t realize it was her. When the call from dispatch came in, all we heard was “27 year old female, high speed MVC. Blunt chest trauma from steering wheel injury, tachy and hypotensive, ETA 6 minutes.”

I ordered the nurses to prep trauma room 1. “Let’s make sure we have the room set up. Get an intubation tray, a chest tube tray, and a thoracotomy tray just in case. Let’s make sure we have some meds around, go to the blood bank and 4 units o-neg, 2 of platelets, and 2 of FFP. Page cardio and trauma surgery, and let’s keep radiology on standby in case she’s stable enough for a scan.” I tell my subordinates as I pop on a yellow trauma gown and a fresh pair of gloves.

Before we knew it, the ambulance's sirens could be heard as it arrived at our emergency department. Moments later, the medics wheeled the patient into our trauma room. “oh my… that’s Tara Thompson…” I realized immediately. She didn’t look like her typical self. She was on a backboard and c-collar, stripped down to just her black bra and matching underwear. She had cuts, bruises, and abrasions scattered across her body, and she was in and out of consciousness.

The medics told us that the set up 2 large bore IVs and started her on ringer’s lactate for fluid resuscitation, and pushed a round of codeine for pain management.

Upon arrival at our emergency department, Tara’s vital signs were: BP 79/42, pulse 129bpm, and her oxygen saturation was down to 94%. We immediately started her on blood transfusions and drew trauma labs (CBC, BMP, toxicology screen). Since a chest injury was suspected, I ordered a chest x ray. The chest x-ray showed a sternal fracture with 2 broken ribs on the left side, a left sided hemothorax, and herniation of the heart into the right chest. I decided to follow that up with a FAST scan, which is just an ultrasound of the chest, belly, and pelvis. The chest portion of this test further confirmed the herniation of her heart, but to my surprise, there was no evidence of pericardial effusion or tamponade. The abdominal portion of the test showed some minor bleeding in the ULQ, which is typically indicative of a spleen injury. Since the bleeding didn’t appear to be major, that injury was to be monitored conservatively. Finally, the pelvic portion of the exam came back clean.

With all that information in mind, it appeared Tara had a chest injury that was explaining her hemodynamic instability. Even though she didn’t have tamponade, cardiac herniations are associated with great vessel injuries, particularly the pulmonary arteries or veins (the princess Diana case is a prime example of this injury process).

Since she had a hemothorax on the left side, we decided to place a chest tube. Tara’s left ribcage was sterilized and I made a 1 inch incision in between her ribs. Tara moaned loudly, feeling the scalpel’s every move since she wasn’t stable enough for me to anesthetize. She yelped loudly with tears running down her face while the tube was placed into her pleural space. Blood shot from the tube and onto my yellow trauma gown.

Outside of the trauma room, you could hear media personnel and paparazzi start to swarm the hospital’s entrance, waiting room, and ER nurses station. “How’s Tara?!” “Any updates?!” “can we get a word with Tara?!” were some of the things being asked. Hospital security was completely overwhelmed by the sudden mob of people, but were able to move everyone out to the hospital’s main entrance. “you can’t just stand around in the waiting room, that’s for patients only.” One of the security guards told the nosey crowd. Hospital administration decided to make a statement to the media and paparazzi to at least appease them for a little while. “Tara Thompson was brought to our emergency department after being involved in a high speed motor vehicle accident. Her exact condition is unknown to hospital administration, but our emergency department and other coordinating departments are working diligently to stabilize her injuries. We will present another update when more information is available, thank you.” Was the statement given to news media outlets.

Back in the trauma room, Tara’s condition began to decline. Her blood pressure was plummeting and she was groaning while drifting in and out of consciousness. With her deteriorating condition in mind, we decided to intubate her. “Push succs and etomidate and get me a 7.0 ET.” I called out as I placed the laryngoscope into Tara’s open mouth. “meds in" a nurse said as another nurse handed me the ET tube. I then began the intubation process. I navigated the tube through the right side of the mouth so my view wouldn’t be obstructed. I identified the epiglottis and then placed the tube into the upper portion of the trachea. I continued lowering the tube until it was about 2cm past the vocal cords. While I held the tube in place at that level, 1 nurse removed the stylet and the other inflated the cuff with an empty syringe. While still holding the tube in place, a nurse began to place a blue tube holder. After that, we confirmed tube placement and attached an ambu bag.

After intubation, we decided that Tara needed to be taken up to the OR for emergency surgery to treat her herniated heart and associated vessel injuries. We covered up her torso with a blanket and wheeled her out of the trauma room. We headed down the hall towards the elevator which led directly to the OR floor. “BP's still dropping, doctor" a nurse called out. “let’s push vasopressors and hang another unit of blood products from the rapid infuser. Let’s try to buy her a few minutes.” I replied.

During the elevator ride up, Tara became pulseless. “no pulse, but we have activity on the monitor.” A nurse called out, shaking her head. “she’s in PEA. Someone start compressions!” I replied urgently. A nurse pulled down the blanket and began deep, harsh chest compressions on the young celebrity. There was a popping sound during CPR from the sternum and rub fractures. “let’s get epi and atropine in. I wanna do a pulse check in 1 minute.” I barked to the trauma team.

Once the meds were in, resuscitation efforts went on. Tara’s chest caved in, causing her perky B cup breasts to jiggle in sync with the chest compressions. Her belly bounced outwards and her head bobbed from the residual force of the life saving efforts. When the 1 minute mark of the code was reached, we did a pulse check in the elevator. “still no pulse. PEA still on the monitors.” A nurse said anxiously. “resume CPR. Push meds at 4 minute mark.” I replied.

We reached the surgical floor a second or two after we resumed CPR. The elevator doors opened up and we were greeted by a few surgical nurses and a surgical resident. “she coded on the way up here. Down for a little over a minute. Pushed 1 of epi and atropine, no shocks. Still in PEA.” I told the surgical resident. “ok doc. Follow us, OR 3 is prepped and ready for her.” The resident replied to me. Deep, harsh chest compressions continued on the singer while she was wheeled through the corridors of the OR floor. “wait a minute. Is that…?” The resident asked before I cut her off. “yep, it’s our VIP patient.”

Tara’s complexion was fading just as fast as she was. Her fresh, tan complexion was now a ghastly, pale that had a grayish tinge. Her lips could be seen through the blue tube holder, and they were now a reddish purple color. Her eyes were half open, staring blankly off into space, devoid of any life or emotion.

Just a minute or so later, we were in OR 3. We were greeted by the surgical attending and the OR staff who were waiting by the OR table. “oh boy, what happened to her?” the surgical attending asked me, surprised to see is bring in an active code. “she coded on the way up. Pushed 1 of epi and atropine, 0 shocks, down for 1:45 and counting. PEA present on last pulse check.” I replied to the surgical attending. The surgeon continued “ok. Let’s get her on the table on my count. One… two… THREE!”

The monitors chirped loudly during the transfer. Tara’s body moved limply while she was moved over to the OR table, still showing no signs of life. “resume compressions! Let’s get a repeat echo and an abdominal ultrasound.” With CPR ongoing, the nurses and surgical techs got the ultrasound machine set up and squirted the cold, gooey gel onto her chest and belly. The surgeon took the wand and moved it onto the gel spot on the belly. “splenic lac, but I don’t think it explains this.” The attending thought out loud, referencing the code blue. They then did a repeat echo: “ok, here’s our problem.” The surgeon said within milliseconds of the ultrasound being done. “cardiac herniation. No tamponade, but she’s bleeding into her chest. I think it might be the pulmonary veins. If it were the pulmonary artery, she would’ve died at the scene.” The surgeon continued.

We did a pulse check at the 4 minute mark, and she was still in PEA. The surgical team pushed the next round of epi and atropine, and they started the first dose of bicarb. Since Tara was in rough shape, the surgeon decided the next course of action is to open her chest via a clamshell thoracotomy in order to make structures in both halves of the thorax visible, especially because of the cardiac herniation into the right chest.

Betadine was splashed across the singer’s bare chest. The surgeon made an incision in the 5th intercostal space, which extended across the entire anterior chest. With the first cut out of the way, a 2nd cut had to be made to incise the subcutaneous tissue in order to expose the sternum, intercostal muscles, and costal cartilage. Now that the intercostal muscles were exposed, heavy scissors were used to snip through the muscle on both sides of the chest in order to create space for the rib spreader, which goes in a few steps later. The next aspect of the clamshell thoracotomy is to divide the sternum in half horizontally. This is somewhat of a challenge since it’s the 2nd hardest bone in the body (the orbital bones, a.k.a. eye sockets are #1), and because Tara sustained a sternal fracture. The sternal fracture was stable and a little above the halfway mark of the sternum, so the usual spot could be cut through. An electric sternal saw was then passed over to the surgeon so the sternum could be divided. The saw made a high pitched grinding sound as the drill cut through the dense bone effortlessly. There was some blood leakage after the drilling was done. The cause of the blood was from the inferior mammary artery being cut from the drill. This is a common complication during clamshell thoracotomies, but it’s easily treatable and isn’t an immediate concern since her heart isn’t pumping blood effectively. The next step was to place the rib spreader, which was put in the center of the chest over where the divided sternum is. With external CPR halted, the knobs on the rib spreader were turned so the chest could be opened up. The OR became filled with a popping and cracking sound from Tara’s ribs breaking.

There was an immediate rush of blood upon entry to the chest. Suction was applied to the area and clamps were placed on the inferior mammary artery since it was injured, and the descending aorta down by the diaphragm. With additional blood accumulation in the chest cavity, the OR team decided to place a 2nd chest tube, which would go on the right side. While the 2nd chest tune was being placed, the pericardium was cut and the heart was delivered so effective internal resus could take place. The 2nd chest tube drained a decent amount of blood, which pooled on the OR floor. Once proper chest tube placement was confirmed, internal massage started.

The surgeon wrapped her hands around Tara’s weakly moving heart and placed her thumbs on the left ventricle. She pushed in a hard, upwards motion on the left ventricle to pump blood outwards. The surgeon’s internal compressions made a wet, rhythmic squishing sound while she tried to force Tara’s heart to do its job. After a cycle or two of internal massage, the surgical resident took over internal resus while the surgical attending dug around in the celebrity’s chest cavity trying to control the hemorrhaging.

While the surgeon was probing around in the woman’s chest, her ET tube became clogged up with blood. In order to keep her airway intact, the ambu bag had to be disconnected and the tube had to be suctioned out. The suction made a wet, soggy slurping sound during this quick process. With the airway restored, the ambu bag was attached and oxygenation was able to continue.

Tara reached the 7 minute mark of the code with no improvement. Another bag of blood products were hung, making this her 8th transfusion (her entire blood volume), and the next doses of epinephrine, atropine, and sodium bicarbonate were injected intravenously. One of the pulmonary veins were stretched out while the other was absolutely shredded. The surgeon was having a difficult time with the shredded vessel. They clamped off the severed end and tried to staple it to the left atrium after the heart was repositioned. However, the staples didn’t hold so the vessel and left atrium continued to leak blood into the chest cavity.

The surgeon restarted their efforts to control the hemorrhage, but the medications were able to convert Tara to a shockable rhythm. The attending surgeon then ordered the team to charge the internal paddles to 20 joules. An electrical whirring was heard during the charging process before the large, spoon shaped paddles were handed off to the doctor. The paddles were lowered into the chest and placed around each side of Tara’s fidgeting heart. Once everyone backed away, shock #1 was delivered. A dull thump was heard, and Tara’s torso flopped slightly in response to the quick jolt of electricity. “still in v-fib.” A nurse called out, shaking her head. The surgical resident resumed internal massage for a moment while the paddles were recharged to a slightly stronger setting of 30 joules.

When the paddles were recharged, they were lowered back into Tara’s chest and the next shock was delivered. The singer’s torso jerked again and her toes curled, showing off a few sharp wrinkles in her soft, size 7 soles. Shock #2 failed to ameliorate the situation since v-fib was still present on the monitors. A cycle of internal massage was performed while the internal paddles were readied for the next shock. Her ET tube became clogged with blood once again, so suction was required to restore her airway. Once her airway was cleared, the next shock was delivered. A dull, wet thump was heard in the OR, and Tara’s upper body flopped limply on the OR table. This shock sent her back into PEA, so internal massage had to be restarted.

Tara’s skin was freezing cold and had a pale, grayish tinge that was becoming more and more noticeable by the second. Her heart felt warm and firm, twitching weakly but frantically. Multiple cycles of internal massage failed to convert her or achieve ROSC, so another dose of cardiac stimulating drugs were pushed at the 11 minute mark of the code. At that point, things started to become repetitive in the code. Cycle after cycle of internal massage failed to produce any change, and the room grew increasingly quiet.

Medications were pushed at the 14 and 17 minute mark of the code, respectively, and the 10th round of blood products were hung from the infuser. These 2 doses of meds failed to produce a shockable rhythm. Tara spiraled further downhill, with an agonal rhythm displaying on the heart monitors. Tara was also maxed out on meds at 17 minutes, so if she were to come back, it would either be now or never.

The surgical team performed internal massage for another 3 and a half minutes, but Tara was asystolic, had no respirations, and her pupils were fixed and dilated. Despite everyone’s best efforts, Tara Thompson was pronounced dead at 10:26am.

The flatlined monitors were switched off and the ambu bag was detached from the ET tube. A nurse began pulling off the EKG electrodes from Tara’s lifeless body while another nurse removed the IVs. The chest tubes, clamps, and rib spreaders were all removed. Tara’s eyes remained half open, almost appearing as if she was watching the nurses perform postmortem care. The nurses then shut her eyes and covered up the young woman’s battered body. Lastly, a toe tag was placed on the big toe of her left foot. The tag dangled in front of Tara’s cute, wrinkly soles as she was wheeled off to the hospital morgue.

Now that Tara was dead, the doctors and hospital administration met in order to figure out how to address the media since this was a high profile case, and her death at their facility may be bad for the hospital’s public image.

At 11am, the hospital administrator and board of directors decided to meet with the press and paparazzi, sparing the doctors of the media circus. The statement was the following:

“We thank you all for your patience this morning. As many of you know, singer-songwriter Tara Thompson was brought to our emergency department after being involved in a high speed motor vehicle accident. She arrived in unstable condition and our emergency department and required emergency surgery. During this surgery, her condition deteriorated further. Despite our staff’s best efforts, Ms Thompson passed away at 10:26am. We’re all very saddened by her untimely passing, and we request that you give her family, friends, and our staff time and space to grieve this loss properly. Thank you.”

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starkerkeyz · 4 years

Text

Don’t Touch Peter Parker.

More SIM!Tony! I love him! Set in my SIM soulmates au 💖 Still dedicated to my starker bestie and awesome person that I love so much, @cagestark

Warnings; Murder, explicit violence, blood, NFF, D/s, SIM!Tony killing everyone that moves basically

The whole world knows Tony Stark has a soulmate.

Nobody but Tony and Tony’s close and trusted associates (and Peter’s friends MJ and Ned) know who his soulmate actually is. Tony refuses to disclose Peter’s name to the press. Not until Peter allows Tony to create an Extremis formula that would work with his altered spider DNA.

After tonight, Tony is going to have to rethink this strategy.

He repulsor blasts the guard on the left. His aim is iffy -the man’s upper torso disintegrates off center- but he’s cranked up the energy output with his seething anger so it’s a moot point. It’s just a little messier taking out part of the heart, anyway; now there’s blood everywhere and the guard on the right is about to scream.

Tony snaps his hand forward, quick as a cobra, and grabs him by the jaw. He stares with mounting impatience and disgust into the rolling whites and blown, fear filled pupils. He reminds himself not to crush the bone beneath his hand to powder if he wants an answer.

“Where. Is. My. Soulmate.”

Tony likes to take time to admire his baby boy. He’s like a work of fine art that only Tony gets the pleasure of seeing. The party is starting in 20 minutes and Peter’s suit is carefully unbuttoned and spread open for him.

The placement of Peter’s soulwords between those sensitive nipples was divine. The words, colored in Tony’s signature silver and blue, were exquisite. The vibranium cuffs holding his enhanced soulmate’s wrists together, arms forward and framing the ‘Yes, Sir’ that started it all, made Peter look deceptively small and fragile.

“Please please please please-”

A hand pulls on the cuffs, yanking the boy off his knees and onto his belly. Tony lets go and grinds his boot down into the small of Peter’s back, watching his thighs quiver open with a mewl as he’s pushed. Peter otherwise holds still, ready and waiting, letting Tony bend his body and manipulate him any way he wants. He’s flexible and strong enough to take whatever the man wants to give him. Best of all, he wants to take it.

Each rough twist of the nano armor boot drives Peter’s cock into the floor of the lab space they’ve commandeered and he knows he’s leaving a wet spot. The vibranium cuffs are pulled while the boot remains on Peter’s back and soon he’s pinned down with his arms stretched out in front of him, soulwords sensitive against the floor and hardened nipples rubbing into the cold tiling.

Peter looks above his head; Tony had a spare serpentine cord of his nano tech controlling the cuffs and subsequently Peter’s arms, now. The Endo-Sym armor creeps down to pet at his wrists. It flows around and under the vibranium, testing out the give and the space, more than likely making sure it fit to Tony’s exacting standards. The thoughtfulness hidden beneath the possessiveness makes Peter smile, throat warm and hot in the back.

“Please what, sweetheart?” Tony leans over his knee like he’s surveying his work. Peter groans and then squirms his hips against the floor, Tony’s boot pinning him in such a way that he’s able to grind his dick into the tiles. Tony chuckles, low and dark, and grinds down harder. “You’re so horny for my cock you’ll hump the floor. Too bad you didn’t answer me.”

The nano tech pulls Peter up by the arms before he can scramble to answer and rectify that. The silver Endo-Sym armor holds him in place. Peter’s head swims from the abrupt change in angle and the lack of friction on his cock.

Tony steps in front of Peter then and grips him by the chin. The silver tendril separates the two cuffs and reconnects them at the small of Tony’s back, cuffing Peter to the older man. Peter licked his lips, looking up at Tony through his lashes.

“Please, let me have your cock, Daddy.” His hands grip fistfuls of Tony’s suit jacket but he doesn’t try pulling the man closer. Instead he shifts himself forward, nuzzling into his soulmate’s tented slacks.

“What good manners for a needy boy.” Tony grins down at his slutty boy. He shifts; grabs Peter by the jaw now and flicks the button to his slacks with his free hand. He pulls his cock out and watches the way Peter’s lips part and his eyes fixate on the familiar length of it. “Good boys should be rewarded.”

Peter waits for it, mouth open. He knows better.

Tony tightens his grip on Peter, forcing his jaw lower. He swipes his thumb across his soulmate’s lower lip tenderly. Then he slides his cock in only enough for the cockhead to rest on Peter’s lip.

“Such a good boy for me, sweetheart. So patient even when you’re so thirsty for it.” Tony’s other hand is stroking himself. Pre-cum dribbles down his crown and paints Peter’s lip. Tony tightens his grip in warning when Peter’s tongue tries to flick out for a taste. “Wait for it. This is your reward for not answering me.”

He cums across Peter’s waiting tongue without ever letting him feel or take more of his cock than that one little touch at his lower lip. He pulls back before he’s begun to soften and forces Peter’s mouth closed with the hand on his chin. His eyes flare blue as the Endo-Sym collar slithers and tightens around Peter’s throat.

“Swallow.” Tony orders. He watches Peter’s Adam’s apple bob and feels it through his psionic link with the collar at the same time. Tony’s dick twitches valiantly. He’s going to need to bring Peter to work and cuff him to Tony’s lap again; but this time under his desk. He’ll get him a pillow and let him rest his head on Tony’s thighs in between loads.

“Think about how you could have been tasting my cock tonight.” Tony pushes his calf against Peter’s groin and feels how hard he is. He smirks down at the boy and pulls back just as Peter’s hips start pressing forward for more. “Think about how you could have gotten off against my leg just now. Think about the taste of me at the back of your throat when you’re speaking in front of all those people and sipping those cocktails tonight, baby. Because when we get home, I want you to tell me all about how hard it makes you to blow me right before giving a speech to powerful politicians and rich socialites alike.”

Tony reaches out and with a flick of his wrist he decapitates the man who dared touch his Peter Parker. The filthy mongrel lost any chance at redemption when he chose to lay a finger on Tony’s soulmate.

He’s found the cell -a cell! His soulmate, kept in a cell!- and taken care of the three men and single woman posted outside indiscriminately, save for the man who physically touched Peter. The other three were merely hit with a repulsor blast to the heart.

With the hallway cleared he breaks past the lock and finally lays eyes on his Peter. He’s hugged moments later by Peter jumping and clinging easily onto the sleek silver and blue Endo-Sym armor, all four limbs wrapped tightly around Tony.

“You’re covered in blood.” Peter doesn’t stop hugging him. The hospital gown they’ve kept him is thin and doesn’t hide his shaking or how naked he is beneath it. Tony grips Peter by both hips and hauls him up until Peter wraps his legs around him and has to use his spider strength to hold onto Tony’s metal sides. Tony squeezes him in close, unwilling to let him go so soon.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had to go through a few people to get to you.” Tony looks at Peter fondly, just holding him and drinking in the sight. He’s unable to resist the urge to run the bloodied fingers of his gauntlet through Peter’s hair. The armor is hard and sleek between Peter’s slender thighs. Tony’s always loved the size difference between himself and his soulmate and being fully suited up while Peter is wearing basically nothing exacerbates the contrast.

He watches Peter settle his weight and lean into Tony’s hand. His eyes close with a flutter and unconsciously Peter started rocking; grinding himself against Tony’s stomach armor. The silver Endo-Sym plating is quickly getting red smears all over the blue of the hospital gown. Tony leans in and kisses Peter, one bloody gauntlet still holding him by the hair as the other snakes around to his ass.

“You shouldn’t- oh, oh...you shouldn’t kill people…” Peter bites at Tony’s mouth in reproach. It’s a topic they’ve disagreed on since it became apparent. It doesn’t stop Peter from rolling his hips more openly when Tony starts leading him with the hand squeezing appreciatively.

“I’ll kill anyone who touches you without your permission.” Tony says, low and dark. He thinks about the security footage of the man’s hand wrapped around Peter’s wrist. He thinks about the severed head he left in the hallway, several body lengths apart from its neck. He thinks about the blood shining on Peter’s skin wherever he's touched his soulmate.

He knows he’d do it again.

“I can...I can…I.” Peter’s head tips to the side and Tony pauses, looking into his eyes. They’re blown and hazy; more so than they were just five minutes ago. Unnaturally so. He likely hasn’t eaten or drank anything on top of whatever drugs the dead men seem to have slipped him.

“I’m taking you home, sweetheart.” Tony decides for the both of them. Peter tightens his thighs and whines, kitten soft, against Tony’s throat.

“Please, Daddy, can I...I’ve thought about you...about your cock and your...taste at the back of my throat. I’ve been good.” Peter’s whining and slurring and he can’t stop humping against Tony’s Iron Man suit. His level of coherency keeps coming in and out. Whatever they gave him isn’t reacting right with the altered DNA. Instead of knocking him out or generally subduing him, all it’s done is make him feel high and uncoordinated and unbearably horny.

“Take what you need, baby. I know I promised you my leg but you can cum this way too, right? For me?” Tony says as he starts walking out of the massacred compound. He keeps talking to his young soulmate as they go. Peter doesn’t notice the bodies or the carnage with his eyes closed in pleasure, hanging on Tony’s every praise and command.

“Daddy, I wish I...I could feel you. Right now.” Peter tightens his legs again but this time he forgets himself and nearly dents the armor. Tony flicks his eyes to the warning display only he can see and smiles wickedly at the load out. His baby boy is ridiculously strong and at the thought of how much pressure he exerted to make Tony’s armor warn about impending damage?

Tony wishes he could be inside of Peter right now, too.

“Later, sweetheart. When we’re home. For now, you’ll have to wait; or you can get off rutting against my armor.” Tony squeezes Peter’s ass and kisses his neck lightly. The armor groans around him and alarms blare at the corners of his eyes as Peter clamps down and bucks.

“Daddy, please, please; yes! Thank you. I’ve always. Always wanted to fuck this armor.” Peter babbled, high and riding Tony like they were already home safe and sound and not miles from civilization in the place he’d been kidnapped. Tony ignores the alarms going off across his psionic link and kisses Peter again.

He feels Peter’s physical strength pressing in on him, challenging the armor and pushing his tech to the limits. His cock lengthens in his pants at the same time the metal around his ribs warps enough to leave bruises.

Peter creams the torn hospital gown and Tony’s armor without needing any more stimulus than Tony’s voice in his ear and Tony’s body beneath his cock. He lets out a soft sigh and nuzzles under his soulmate’s chin, eyes closed in bliss. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Any time, sweetheart.” Tony looks down at his baby-boy with a small smile. He wipes a smear of blood off Peter’s forehead and then kisses his temple. Tony’s eyes flash blue but his words stay gentle in tone.

“I’ll always protect you, Peter Parker.”

#keyz fic #cage's gift au #starker #sim!tonyxpeter parker #nff #I love this au so much #💕💕💕

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tenroseforeverandever · 4 years

Text

Double Blind

Characters: Rose Tyler; Tenth Doctor; Reinette; Adam Mitchell

Tags: AU - human; blind date; fluff; romance; humour

Summary: Rose Tyler has been set up on a blind date with a bloke she’s having a lot of misgivings about, but when he arrives, she finds he isn’t anything like she expected him to be.

Notes: This was written as part of a Classic Trope challenge on the Doctor x Rose Discord group. I got “Blind Date”. The story was actually inspired by one of the cute little stories on my French course on DuoLingo! To my brilliant beta team, @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci, my undying gratitude, as always. You got me on the right track more than a few times, and with the amazing @aintfraidanoghosts, you helped me plan out the rough patches. My love to you all!

Read also at: AO3; FF.net; TSP

Double Blind

Rose Tyler shifted in her seat and straightened the pale blue rose on the white table linens for the umpteenth time. She glanced covertly at the other tables around her: men and women dressed in nice suits and fine fabrics, eating meticulously presented food from china plates. Rose wriggled again, brushing invisible motes of lint from the cuffs of her white blouse, hoping she looked presentable. She told herself she couldn’t look too terribly out of place; the maître ’d hadn’t blinked an eye.

She had never set foot inside a restaurant this upscale before. They didn’t have posh spots like this near the Powell Estate. But the French restaurant, Révélations, was where her date had insisted they meet. He’d texted her instructions to place a blue rose on the table in front of her so he could identify her when he arrived. The idea of the rose was obvious (her name) and the blue was, according to him, for hope that their date would be “just the first of many”. He hadn’t liked the idea of exchanging photos, which would have made identifying each other simple. He’d informed her that “a blind date is a blind date” and he wanted “to meet without any preconceived notions” or some rubbish like that. But Rose already had preconceived the notion that this bloke was a bit too sure of himself. It was just a bloody first date, after all, blind or not. He sounded like he was already practically planning their wedding.

She sighed, not for the first time over the last few days. Her friend, Shareen… actually Shareen’s new boyfriend whom Rose had never even met… had arranged this date: a bloke, named Adam Mitchell, whom he knew from the research labs at the Uni. The bloke had allegedly returned from college in the United States to do Post-Doctoral research on some hopelessly science-y subject Rose could barely even pronounce the name of. Why Shareen (or, more to the point, Shareen’s mysterious boyfriend…) had ever thought he would be a good match for her, Rose didn’t understand. She didn’t even have any A-levels to her name, and she worked in a shop, for God’s sake.

On top of that, if she was being honest, Adam had rubbed her a bit the wrong way with the dictatorial tone of his texts to her. It wasn’t an auspicious beginning.

“The last thing I need in my life right now,” she’d told Shareen in no uncertain terms, “is another condescending, controlling… shite boyfriend. Besides, I only just got rid of Jimmy. I really don’t think I’m ready for any sort of boyfriend.”

Shareen had scoffed. “But this isn’t Jimmy. This one actually has a real, functioning brain, and he has a proper career lined up. He has money, babe; he can look after you.”

“What? I’m supposed to be some kept woman? You sound like my flippin’ mum.”

It had taken some convincing, but eventually, Rose had tired of Shareen’s whinging, and capitulated, agreeing to go on this bloody date, despite her misgivings.

And here she sat, waiting for Adam to arrive, incessantly rearranging her stupid blue rose and terrified to order anything more than a glass of still water lest it bankrupt her. She felt like she’d been waiting forever but when she glanced at the time on her mobile, wondering if she’d been stood up, it turned out he wasn’t late… yet. Rose couldn’t decide if she should be relieved or disappointed.

After another five minutes of jittering her leg under the table linens and trying desperately not to bite her nails, she decided to pack it in. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want… this. She gathered her handbag from the floor by her feet, and made to stand, but stopped half-way. From the lobby, with the maître d’ standing next to him, appeared a tall, slender man a few years older than her. She observed him carefully for signs that he might be Adam: he had brown hair and eyes (check) and was wearing a suit and a tie adorned with blue flowers (check, again.)

So far so good.

Although, she had to admit, the overall image wasn’t quite what she’d expected from Adam, based on the tone of his texts to her. Somehow, she’d been expecting the brown hair to be carefully combed into place, not a delicious, expertly tousled mop that practically invited her to run her fingers through it. And the suit was a bit more casual than the “business casual” she’d been anticipating: rumpled brown with pinstripes; tie carelessly loosened from the confines of his collar; and a pair of battered, cream-coloured Converse on his feet, in place of dress shoes. Based on his tone, she’d thought Adam would have been more… put-together and formal.

Her heart dropped. It couldn’t be him. Loads of people had brown hair and eyes, and the tie… easily a coincidence. Besides, while she’d been told Adam was good-looking, this bloke was positively fit!

She watched with bated breath as he glanced around the restaurant. Her heart did a little flip when his eyes settled on the rose in front of her. Then his gaze lifted to hers and his face erupted into a wide, toothy grin. Rose’s breath caught and she immediately plonked back down into her seat.

She amended her first assessment: he wasn’t just fit; he was drop-dead, bloody gorgeous.

The man waved off the maître d’, who remained hovering behind him, and stepped toward Rose’s table. “Hello.” He continued to beam stupidly at her.

She figured her expression was equally ridiculous as she grinned back in a dreamy haze. “Hello.”

“The blue flower…” He nodded toward the rose in a soft Estuary accent that made her feel all gooey inside.

“Yeah. And the, erm… the tie,” she managed.

“The tie? Oh… yes, it’s one of my favourites. Love the tie. Erm…” he gestured to the empty chair across from her, “…may I?”

“Oh, God, sorry! Of course.”

He sat down and put his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “So…”

“So…” Rose giggled (blimey, she wasn’t normally the giggly sort…), then pulled herself together. “So, you’re doing post-doctoral work at the Uni, yeah? On what was it, again?”

“Quantum and Temporal Physics.”

Rose gulped, really wishing she’d never let Jimmy-bloody-Stone manipulate her into dropping out of high school. Not that A-level anything would help her much in this situation, but at least she might have stood a chance. “Yeah, I thought it was something like that…”

“Fascinating field, really. My research is based on the premise that space and time are fundamentally linked at quantum level and that if we can travel on any trajectory through one, we should also be able to travel on any trajectory through the other. It’s just a matter of applying…” he rattled on, gesticulating with his hands. (He had lovely, long fingers, Rose mused dreamily, quite happy to listen to the cadence of his voice and imagine all the things those fingers could do.) “…and realigning the quantum matrices. You see, people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint…” He trailed off. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

“Just a bit, yeah.” She chuckled but her cheeks burned. “My brain checked out somewhere back around when you said, ‘space and time’.”

He cast her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I do this all the time. Donna, that’s my cousin, she calls me a great, big outer space dunce. I keep forgetting that not everyone is a genius, like me.” He sniffed and straightened his tie.

Rose arched her eyebrow at him. Okay, now this was more the Adam Mitchell she’d been expecting: a bit of a pretentious git.

“Oh, no! Sorry, so sorry! I’ve mucked it up again. I just meant… weeell, I am very clever, but I don’t mean that I think I’m better than other people… I just know things, I suppose. And I get excited and like to talk about them because I want to share my knowledge… and as Donna pointed out, I’m also a dunce.”

Rose’s heart swelled with sudden affection. He wasn’t being pretentious after all; he was just being… forthright, sweet.

“And getting back to what I really meant to say, earlier,” he blurted, “all that gobbledygook about time… it’s really just a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff.”

Rose laughed. “Now that’s some science I can get my head around!”

He beamed at her again, his relief evident. “So, what do you do?”

Rose’s cheeks heated again. “Oh, me?” She averted her eyes, dreading the disappointment she would surely see settle on his face, but she supposed it was better she was upfront about it. “I’m just working in a shop… Henrick’s.”

“Oooooh, posh.” He waggled his eyebrows, setting her off giggling again. “I commend you. Not just anyone can handle rude customers all day. I bet you get some doozies in there!”

Bemused, Rose could only nod in agreement.

“I’d end up shouting at them and get fired the same day.”

“I feel like that too, sometimes, but I’ve learned to handle it, I guess. I’m top sales, every month.”

“Oh, well done! Brilliant!” He seemed genuinely proud of her achievement. There was no sarcasm in his tone or delivery, just open enthusiasm.

“But I really want to go back and get my A-levels,” she insisted, feeling she had to defend herself. “I was good at English and French back in school… and Art! I used to love painting!”

“I reiterate: brilliant! You should do just that if it’s what you want. What sort of things–”

The waiter stepped up to their table at that moment to offer them menus and tell them about the specials of the day. Rose listened intently. The food all sounded very opulent, and was probably delicious, but she didn’t have a clue what half of it was. She did her best to keep up, nodding politely and making interested noises at appropriate points.

“May I offer you something to drink while you peruse the menu?” the waiter offered.

“Oh, erm…” Rose stammered. What she really wanted was to order a pint, but she didn’t think that would go over too well at Révélations. And she didn’t want to order anything too expensive… “I’d love a glass of red wine.”

“We have a lovely selection of fine house wines for you to choose from.” The waiter opened the wine menu and pointed to the appropriate section.

Rose bit her lower lip, the words swimming before her eyes, and her heart somersaulting around her chest. “I… erm…” She glanced over to Adam, who was watching her with slightly narrowed eyes. She couldn’t help thinking he was sizing her up… and she was failing. Then his expression softened, and he offered her a compassionate smile.

“Oooh, a glass of red sounds good. How about we just order a bottle?”

Rose nodded fervently.

“What do you recommend?” he asked the waiter.

When the wine was selected and the waiter had finally left, Rose opened her menu and pretended to read over the selections. She glanced shyly up at Adam from beneath her fringe. He too, was engrossed in the menu. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t thank me yet.” His eyes met hers, sparkling with amusement. “We can only hope our waiter chose a nice wine for us. Aaand, speak of the devil…”

The waiter reappeared, opened the wine, and poured a little into each of their glasses to taste. Rose held the glass to her lips, hesitantly taking a small sip. She hummed her appreciation as the fruity flavour exploded over her tongue.

Adam was decidedly less reserved in his approach. With a flourish of his eyebrows at Rose and a quirk of a smile, he swirled the liquid around his glass, and sniffed it intently. (The show-off!) “Ahhh… that’s lovely. And do I detect… NO! It can’t be? Is that an overtone of... bananas?” He winked at Rose.

“Bananas, sir?” The waiter goggled at him. “I… erm… bananas?”

Rose clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back the bark of laughter building in her throat.

“Oh, I love bananas!” Adam cheered. “Always bring a banana to a party. And if you can’t do that, find a brilliant wine with overtones of bananas! This is lovely, don’t you think?” he addressed Rose.

“Lovely, yeah,” she agreed.

“Pour away, my good man!”

As the poor, perplexed waiter filled their glasses, he asked: “Have you had a chance to view the menu?”

Rose met Adam’s eyes and gave a little shake of her head. He turned to the waiter. “A few more minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’ll come back in a little while.”

As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Rose couldn’t contain herself any longer: “Oh my God! Bananas?!”

“Oh, I thought he needed to lighten up a bit. This place is all a bit hoity-toity, in my opinion.” His eyes suddenly widened. “I hope you don’t mind…”

“Are you kidding? That was the best thing I’ve heard all week. The look on his face!”

“I know!”

They did nothing but grin stupidly at each other over sips of their wine for a few minutes, breaking into hopeless giggles every so often.

Adam took a deep breath and a gulp of wine. “So,” he asked, returning the subject to their earlier conversation, “back to school, eh? Is that something you’d want to do?”

“I think so, yeah. I want to at least be able to say I got my A-levels. I let a boy convince me I didn’t need them, and it was the worst decision I’ve ever made. I feel like… I dunno, it would be like taking my life back.”

He offered her a warm smile. “Well, good for you! And then… uni?”

“Maybe… who knows? Would that matter?” She worried the corner of her lower lip between her teeth. Despite her hesitancy to come on this date, she was really liking this bloke. She could see herself spending more time with him… if he were amenable. ‘Course she wouldn’t let on to Shareen. Shareen would be insufferable.

“What? No! Of course not! Uni is not the be-all and end-all. There are so many other avenues to pursue if that’s what you want. It was right for me, obviously, but…weeell…” he tugged on his ear, “you certainly don’t need my approval.”

Rose offered him a grateful little smile and ducked her head. She sighed happily. “What I’d really love to do, first, is take a year or so and just travel. Explore the world.”

“Oh, I’d love to travel too! I’ve spent so long at school. I mean I’ve studied in the States, but I never really had much chance to look around, to explore. I love to explore!”

“Me too! I’ve never been anywhere ‘cept when me and mum used to cram into Cousin Mo’s old car and drive to a beach in Dorset for a few days on the summer hols. Mum must have gotten sick of my whinging. She finally left me behind when I was fourteen. Blimey, she and Mo must have had a grand ol’ time without me taggin’ along.”

They both laughed.

“Where would you go,” she asked, “if you could choose?”

“Oh, I rather like the idea of blindfolding myself and throwing a dart at a map of the world. Seeing where the wind takes me.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect! But, on your own?” Rose blurted out the words, not thinking through how they would sound. He would probably think she was inviting herself along on this imaginary trip they were planning. Bloody hell, she’d not known him for more than twenty minutes.

He shrugged, his cheerful expression crumbling a bit around the edges. “There is no one else… not really…” His fringe fell over his face as he pointedly turned his eyes to the menu.

There was history there, and Rose wanted to learn more, but in this moment she just wanted to be there for him. She found herself dismissing any worries about being too forward, and impulsively, she reached across the table and rested her hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “There’s me.” She licked her lips as his hand twitched under hers, sure he was going to pull it away.

Instead, he flipped his over so their palms were touching. A zing of something bloody brilliant coursed through her, and as their eyes met, she knew he felt it too, a shared energy. It felt so right. She swore she could feel the turn of the Earth, the ground under her feet spinning at a thousand miles an hour, like she was falling through space.

Stunned by the feelings exploding inside her, she opened her menu to divert her mind. Glancing up she saw Adam was doing the same.

A few minutes of awkward silence passed, their hands still touching; it seemed neither of them was willing to break the link between them. Finally, Adam spoke, gesturing to the menu, “So, what do you like, Reinette? It’s my first time here; I was hoping you could tell me what’s good.”

Rose let his words sink in. What was he on about? Hadn’t he selected this restaurant? Was this some sort of test? Frowning, she slid her hand from his. “It’s my first time here, too… Wait!” She pursed her lips as she processed his words. “Did you just call me… Reinette?”

His eyes bulged, his eyebrows disappearing under his fringe. “Oh, blimey! You aren’t…?” He ran a desperate hand through his hair. “I take it you’re not Reinette, then?”

Rose chuckled, shaking her head. “Never heard of her. And I’ll wager your name’s not Adam?”

“Adam?” He frantically ruffled his hair again. “Blimey! No, I go by Jonathan Noble.”

“Nice to meet ya, Jonathan Noble. Rose Tyler.”

“Rose Tyler, eh? Roooose Tyler. I have to admit, I like the sound of that. It suits you much better than Reinette. Aaaand, it goes a long way to explaining why you weren’t quite what I was expecting… Turns out, I wasn’t expecting you at all. I was expecting… well, Reinette, who I have to admit,” his voice dropped to a confidential whisper as he leaned across the table toward Rose, “seemed a little full of herself… a bit la-di-da, if you know what I mean?”

“Don’t I just,” she whispered back. “I got the same vibes from Adam. And then you… you seemed so…” she chewed on the corner of her finger, “…so… I dunno. We just seemed to click, yeah?”

He beamed. “Oh, yes! You know, looking back, now… I was a little surprised when you didn’t know what wine to order. I assumed Reinette was the sort that would be able to rattle on about fine wines until she was blue in the face.”

“I know! I kinda had the same experience with you… just the way you were dressed, yeah. I was expecting something a little more… proper, I guess.” His smile faltered and she felt a little rush of panic. “Oh, God! No, no! I didn’t mean… I love this, what you’re wearing. It’s comfortable and, erm… approachable. It really suits you.”

“You think?” He flushed and tugged on his ear, his eyes filling with hope.

“Oh, yeah! And the Chucks… inspired!”

Rose glanced up past Jonathan’s shoulder, distracted by a woman who had just arrived and was putting up a bit of a fuss to the maître d’. “Erm, Jonathan…” she asked, trying to come off as casual, “…what made you think I was this Reinette-person?”

“Well, I was told to look for a beautiful blonde. And she told me she would have a blue flower… a lily! She’s originally from France. A blue lily! Oh…” He glanced down at Rose’s flower, lying beside her napkin, his mouth dropping open. “Erm… you have a… a rose. Some genius I am, eh?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, easy mistake to make. I mean, what are the odds: specifically a blue flower? But...” she grimaced, nodding toward the reception area, “I’m afraid the real Reinette might have just arrived.”

Jonathan spun around in his chair and Rose followed the path of his eyes. The woman sniping at the maître d’ was a striking blonde, dressed in a chic, expensive-looking pantsuit. She was holding a blue lily and peering around the dining room.

Rose’s heart plummeted. She would never be able to compete with such a beautiful, sophisticated woman. What would a genius like Jonathan Noble ever want with a chav from an estate in Peckham, when he could have the likes of Reinette? She picked up her handbag and swept her blue rose into it. “Thanks for being so nice, Jonathan, but it seems your date has arrived.” She offered him a tight smile as she stood to leave.

“What? What? No, no, no! Please stay… Rose Tyler.” Her name rolled deliciously off his tongue again and he begged her with big, sad, puppy-dog eyes. And then there was his delectable, pouting lower lip… oh, wouldn’t she just love to kiss that lip?

“I… I can’t. It’s not right. I mean she’s so… you know… and I’m not...”

“Please? Rose? I was enjoying talking to you; really, properly enjoying it!”

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” he assured her with a little impatient nod. “Sit, please.”

Rose hesitated.

“Please.”

“Oh, all right!” If this lovely man wanted to finish this date with her, who was she to argue. They really had been getting along very well, after all. That energy between them when they’d held hands… she’d felt a connection with him like nothing she’d never experienced before. A delightful shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

“By the way,” Jonathan asked as she settled herself again, “what made you think I was Adam? Was it the tie?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s just you mentioned it when I first arrived.”

“Oh, right,” Rose laughed. “Well, you obviously were looking for the flower too… but you – I mean he – told me he’d be wearing a tie with blue flowers on it. And there you were: tie with blue flowers. The two clues together…”

“Pure coincidence.” He winked. “I’d even venture to call it serendipitous, and I don’t generally believe in luck.”

“Oh, you don’t even know me yet.” Rose flashed him a toothy grin. “I could bring you nothing but misfortune, you never know.”

He dragged his gaze up from where the tip of her tongue teased him from the corner of her smile to meet her eyes. “Oh no, Rose Tyler, you have already saved me from a fate worse than death.” He nodded to Reinette who was currently flouncing through the restaurant, probably looking for him.

Rose bit her lip, stifling yet another giggle. “I haven’t saved you yet. Look out! She’s headed this way.”

“Oh, if I believe in one thing, I believe in you.” He reached over the table to squeeze her hand. “You’ll save me. You are my lucky pants.”

“Your what?” Unable to contain herself any longer, she burst into a full belly-laugh, but she gulped it back quickly as Reinette swept up to their table.

“Excuse me?” Reinette spoke with a light but haughty French accent and gave Rose a critical once-over before turning her attention to Jonathan. “Are you Jonathan Noble?”

Jonathan offered the woman a perplexed frown. “You must be mistaken. My name is… erm…” he scrubbed at the back of his neck, “…Adam.”

Reinette pursed her lips, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “So, this means nothing to you, then?” With a flourish she showed him the lily.

“Oh, weeell, it’s a lovely flower… but, no…”

Reinette’s narrowed gaze flicked between the two of them, and Rose offered her a polite smile. With a harrumph, she moved away from their table to continue her search.

“Dodged that bullet!” Jonathan told Rose.

“Well, at least you didn’t get stood up.” Rose rolled her eyes, wondering what had happened to the real Adam.

“His loss. And my good fortune! See? You are my lucky pants.”

She shook her head. “You’re daft, you are! I guess we should take a look at these menus, yeah?”

He spent a few seconds flipping through the pages of the menu, then he sighed. “Actually… I know the wine is lovely – overtones of bananas and all – but since neither of us chose this restaurant, what do you say we pay for the wine and find somewhere else to eat. That is, if you want?”

Rose breathed a sigh of relief. “I know a really great pub not far from here that’s a little more my scene. They brew their own and they make the best fish and chips. I want chips.”

“Me too! Sounds brilliant. Shall we?”

Standing, she nodded fervently, and he threw some bills on the table to cover the cost of the wine, then offered her his elbow. She blushed, accepting his arm.

“Allons-y!” he chirped.

As they made their way to the maître d’ to offer their apologies, Reinette stormed up to them. “You lied to me! You are Jonathan Noble.” Her beautiful face was contorted in fury and she pointed adamantly at his shoes. “You told me you’d be wearing Converse with your… ahem…” she curled her lip, “...suit.”

“Weeell…” Jonathan’s shoulders tensed, and Rose could only hold her breath, waiting to see how he would respond. He flourished the arm that wasn’t linked with hers. “You got me! I admit. I lied. It seems there was a case of mistaken identity, two blind dates that got muddled up, and weeeell… Rose and I rather hit it off.” He was going for the honest approach, and Rose was quietly relieved.

Reinette, however, was livid! “Ridiculous!”

“I’m sorry,” Rose added, feeling the need to back Jonathan up. “He really did think I was you. We both had a blue flower, you see…”

Reinette snarled at Rose, then whipped around to face Jonathan. “I do not get… stood up! I insist you have dinner with me!”

Rose was distracted from Jonathan’s terse response by the insistent buzzing of her mobile with multiple incoming texts. She dropped his arm and scrambled in her handbag, finally finding the phone at the very bottom. The screen was lit up with no fewer than five notifications from Adam. It seemed he was running rather late, but told Rose, in no uncertain terms, that he expected her to wait for him.

“I’m worth the wait,” read his final text, followed by winky and aubergine emojis.

Rose rolled her eyes and fought her gag reflex. There was no bloody way she was going to wait for that tosser. And she was going to be having a few sharp words with Shareen about her (and her boyfriend’s) concept of what her ideal date looked like.

As it turned out, Rose thought as her eyes settled fondly on Jonathan, she had a pretty good picture of exactly what her ideal date looked like. And unfortunately, right now, he wasn’t faring well in his battle with Reinette. It was time for her to rescue him one more time.

“Tell ya what, Reinette,” she cut into the other woman’s rant, “a young man named Adam Mitchell is on his way here… right now. He’ll be wearing a tie with blue flowers and he’ll be expecting his date to have one of these...” She pulled the blue rose from her handbag and thrust it at the stunned Reinette. “Oh, and I don’t think he believes anyone could ever stand him up either, so you should get along famously.”

With that, she slipped her hand into Jonathan’s, and as one, they turned toward the door and pushed it open. As they burst onto the pavement, they nearly knocked over a dark-haired young man, wearing a tie with gaudy blue flowers all over it.

“Oi!” he barked as they sputtered half-hearted apologies and hurried along the pavement.

“Was that…?” Jonathan started.

“Adam?” Rose finished for him. “Yeah, I think it must have been.” Their eyes met and they erupted into laughter and looked back over their shoulders to find Reinette and (presumably) Adam fuming in the doorway of the restaurant.

Gripping Jonathan’s hand tighter, Rose grinned up at him. “Run!” she shouted.

“Oh, yes!” he cheered as they took off at a sprint.

As she ran hand in hand with Jonathan, Rose felt as though she had something to look forward to for the first time in a long time. She had walked into Révélations dreading the evening ahead, but a simple mix-up had turned her blind date into a matter of pure blind luck. Now she was running toward a future full of promise and opportunity, a future she rather suspected Jonathan Noble would be a significant part of.

She grinned. It was going to be fantastic.

#ten x rose #human au #blind date #fluff #humour #romance #mistaken identity #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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starker-stories · 4 years

Text

Our Turn

Also on AO3

There was a post. It yielded this story. There’s not exactly spitroasting, but we hope it’ll fit the bill.

itfeelssogoodmrstark Can I get Peter being spitroasted by Tony and SIM!Tony. Or Tony and Tony’s Ironman suit, bye.

Tagging the inspiration-er: @itfeelssogoodmrstark

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By @thestarkerisobvious and @starker-stories

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This is a Messages Interlude to the Messages series. The same versions of Peter & Tony as in those stories. But not a part of the run of the series. The Interludes are little bits of (usually) PWP written just for fun, because we can't get enough of this version of them.

Our Turn is a direct sequel to Your Turn. It can, however, be read as a stand-alone Interlude.

Tags: Bondage, Armor Kink, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Aftercare, Established Relationship, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Iron Man Armor

‘What does that feel like’ Peter had asked. When the question was posed, Tony simply answered with a smirk rather than an immediate demonstration. Leave the kid hanging. Leave him wondering if it would happen. Leave him wondering when it would happen. Leave him wondering ‘what does that feel like’.

He’d answer the occasional question about the situation. Though never too detailed. The requests for details were met with that same knowing smirk.

“Bend me over a table first, Tony, I’ve never done it that way,” he whispered, more than once, when Tony headed them toward the bed, but Tony always managed to say no.

“Already shut the lab down for the night. Gonna have to wait a while longer,” Tony said, putting the question off again.

Another time when Peter had been asking questions again, in the middle of his unanswered questions, Peter suddenly stopped to ask, “Wait! Tony… what if I break the table?”

“That possibility has already been considered, Parker.”

Peter never gave up. But then maybe that was because it had been almost two weeks and it still hadn’t happened.

“So how much information does the suit actually give you, other than what damage it’s taking? I mean I assume you don’t let it feed you information about pain, that wouldn’t be helpful.”

“Actually, it’s very helpful. Lets you know how much damage and resistance is left. So yeah. Pain sensors are included. FRIDAY reports many different kinds of external sensations.

“Reports the sensations. So it’s not like you’re feeling them yourself.”

Tony gave a sideways shrug of his head. With a little shake or nod… it was hard to figure out which.

“So if you were blind, assuming you could be, could you feel your way through a tunnel? That’s a stupid question I guess you have other sensors.

“You could, like, pet a cat, and tell it was soft, or something?”

“What about hot and cold? I assume you don’t want to know how cold it is when you’re flying…”

Having answered one sensation question, none of the others were. Let the kid wonder exactly what ‘reports sensation’ might mean.

They were in the lab the next time it was mentioned. “You won’t have to be gentle, when you do it, you know. I’m not really not a virgin this time…” Peter said with a wink.

“You’ll be in my lab, my lab table. I’ll be as gentle or as rough as I like.” But then, after having made it sound like it was about to happen, Tony opened a new project file and buried himself in the details of it, working until almost dawn.

After a week Peter asked the question one more time. They were in the shower before bed and he boldly turned his back to Tony, balanced himself against the wall and began to walk his hands down, utilizing his acrobatic skills and shamelessly presenting his ass. When he was at a perfect ninety degree angle he turned back and looked playfully over his shoulder. “You never bent me over the lab table, you know. And you promised.”

The sex was good that night, but no more mention of the table was had. Peter turned it over in his mind after Tony had fallen asleep. Was it possible he was being annoying? Tony never seemed unhappy with his questions, but he also never offered to do the specific thing Peter was asking for. He didn’t like asking Tony for things more than once (and in bed he never had to ask twice.) Either Tony was on board with something, or he wasn’t, and if he wasn’t, Peter let it drop. Maybe sex-over-a-table was something Tony had in the past and didn’t enjoy? He was well aware that Tony had very specific opinions about angles and sex. And being a good lover, well, that had always been Tony’s top priority. In any case, Peter wasn’t going to nag.

He was a little disappointed about the table, however. Tony was his first and only lover, and if Tony never fucked him over a lab table, no one would.

No more questions had been asked for almost three days. No assumptions put forth. No teasing. Peter did tend to have a little sad puppy face, though, when he would look over at the table Tony was using to poke around at a bit of holographic projection.

He was working on a holographic wireframe of the suit, down near where the boot’s foot joined the leg. It was enlarged to see the details. But apparently not enlarged enough. Tony looked over at the workstation they’d set up for Peter to do his school experiments on.

“Pete, can you get your hand into this wireframe, right about here?” Tony asked, pointing to a narrow opening in the design that was low, close to the table.

Peter squeezed in between him and the hologram. Did he push his ass against his lover, just a little bit? No of course he didn’t. Okay maybe a little. The hour was getting late, after all.

“Tease. We’re working. I need your hand in this bit here,” Tony said, pointing over to the left side, making Peter need to turn his head in that direction, almost tilted upside down looking up at a joint just out of reach.

“If you move in from the front with your right hand… no… like this.” He put his hand on Peter’s right wrist, moving it into position.

Cold metal fingers closed around his left wrist.

Peter reacted instantly, yanking his wrist away and attempting to jump into a more defensive position (usually when he was attacked it was from the north-eastern corner of the room. He never knew why. But over the years, no matter how much he had changed, he still preferred to observe before attacking.)

The suit moved with him, but did not release his wrist. Metal fingers closed over Peter’s right shoulder, pinning him down to the table.

“Tony?” He asked, mildly alarmed. He had heard of, but never witnessed, the suit attacking when it mistook a Tony-nightmare for an attack, and the story of Rhodey’s hacked-suit was legendary.

“Yeah?” Tony asked as he reached to the front of Peter’s pants, giving a hard pull on either side of the button and zipper, popping one and tearing the other. Another quick tug and the jeans were tangled around Peter’s ankles.

“Tone— oh… oh…”

Boxers found their way to the floor next, leaving Peter’s ass exposed to the cool air of the room. The suit’s hand moved from Peter’s wrist to his other shoulder.

Peter’s brain put two and two together rather quickly. His body, on the other hand, seemed satisfied with gaping, his eyes as wide as saucers, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it. One hand was still on the table, held there with an iron grip. His other arm flailed about for purchase, but he was unable to rise enough to find it. The suit’s second hand was holding him down to the table, and suddenly he found himself panicking and he cried out…

“Tony? Tony?! I’ll break the table!”

Tony chuckled. “Don’t you think that someone with a vibranium-reinforced bed would’ve already thought about that possibility?

“You’re going exactly nowhere that I don’t want you to go.”

“But… wait, the table? When did you… oh god…” Even as his brain calculated calmly (Tony’s putting him off constantly, Tony getting the table installed, Tony’s ruse with the wireframe, damn that man was good), his body continued to behave as if he were in a fight. His free arm found its way around and now he had the suit’s wrist in his grip… oh god, was he really wrestling with the suit? While naked? This was some strange fantasy-turned-wet-dream come true. If only he could stop fighting, but his body didn’t seem to be taking orders. He didn’t want to get free, after all… he had been waiting for this for so damn long. His legs, at least, were obeying — as long as he didn’t engage those muscles he could cooperate. Could stay obediently in this position and let Tony fuck him hard just like they had planned. If only Tony would give him a little bit of time to adjust…

Peter felt a pair of flat-bottomed scissors at the hem of his shirt and as Tony moved his hand up Peter’s back, his shirt began to be cut away. Straight up over his spine, then down each sleeve, until it lay on the table loose under him. A tug from Tony’s hand pulled the cut fabric away.

Tony gave a kick to one of Peter’s ankles, spreading his legs wide to one side, untangling his pants at the same time, leaving Peter completely naked.

“No Tony please!”

“No?” Tony asked skeptically. A metal cuff emerged from the table leg and closed around Peter’s ankle.

His yelp would have been a scream but he didn’t have enough air. Oh this was bad. This was very bad.

The knock against his leg had sent it into fight-mode and the cuff just made it worse. Now his brain AND body were creating joint plans. Vibranium or no vibranium, the weakest joint of the table was easily within reach and the suit wasn’t even TRYING to secure that hand and that table leg would make an excellent weapon no wait he didn’t want to wield a weapon, he’d kill Tony!

While Peter was struggling with his right ankle, it meant his left was holding himself upright. Which meant that it took Tony barely a push to knock the kid off balance and finish spreading his legs wide, the other ankle cuffed to the other leg of the table. Which took away any leverage Peter could achieve — wait, did he actually start to bend the middle of the vibranium table leg!?

Peter closed his eyes tight and squeezed down on the suit’s wrist and he tried to focus. He wanted this, had wanted this since the first time it had occurred to his little horny adolescent brain that being fingered by the suit would be so much hotter than playing with a sex-toy.

It didn’t work. Nothing was working, and his heart was hammering so hard he was afraid it would dent the table…

That gave him an idea.

“I’m caught between an Iron Man suit and a vibranium table, and I’m going to break one of them, Tony. Which one’s cheaper?”

That was good. That was like the banter he usually had with the bad guys, the kind that kept it light and reminded everyone there were non-violent ways out of the encounter. Reminding his body he wasn’t really in any danger.

“Out of date Mark. The 47. I built it able to withstand the shield, but go right ahead kid. Give it your best shot.”

Sending up a prayer that the table wouldn’t break (he had been looking forward to being taken while bent over a table for so long!) he strained to lift his right hand, lifting both it and the suit. An inch and a half off the table. There was no advantage of course, he was just making a point.

“I don’t want to break your suit, old man. It will hurt your feelings… wait…”

He managed to turn his head and feign a look back in Tony’s direction (all a ruse, he just needed to buy time. Still, it was working.)

“Where is your headset?”

“In my body. Haven’t needed that since the Mark 50. Of course I coded it to react with any of the old suits. Never know when you might need one to pin a little Spiderling to a table,” Tony said with a smug grin. One-handed, he pulled his t-shirt over his head by the back of its collar and tossed it away.

Tony’s snark was exactly what he needed. He could banter with Tony all day, it was second nature. Now, moving to turn his head felt less panicky. If only his heart would stop pounding…

“It’s heavy…” he said lifting his right hand off the table again, only by an inch, just to prove he could. Knowing that helped a little too. “How much does it weigh again?”

“Not much at all. Only twenty-five pounds,” Tony said, pushing Peter’s wrist back down to the table.

“Oh… bad. Breakable. Damn Tony you should have broken out those real old-fashioned ones… those big clunker ones, those before-I-was-born ones… I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.” This was working. Pushing the suit and being pushed back was less like an attack and more like bedplay. He turned his head again and tried to concentrate on the suit’s wrist in his grip. He tried to stop squeezing, stopped trying to dig his fingers in to dent it, and tried to concentrate on the feel of it under his hand. This was the suit, and Peter had fantasized about it for so long. If only he could keep Tony talking…

“You were born before all of them. Even the Mark 1. Besides, the Mark 2 only weighed about thirty-five. Miniaturized tech. Composite alloys. Fancy stuff that they don’t teach kids about.” Tony popped open the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down. He let his pants fall down over his hips and stepped out of them.

“Is that all the fight you have in you, Parker?” Tony said with a smirk when Peter looked back at him again. Something cold and wet trickled down the crack of Peter’s ass and dripped off of the tip of his cock onto the floor.

“Fight it? I was hoping it would fuck me first.”

Peter heard the sound of two quick, sharp taps from behind him. Immediately he recognized the sound — Tony was engaging the arc reactor, but why? Now there was an almost silent whisper of metal on metal, something Peter’s spidersenses heard clearly, but Peter didn’t understand.

Until he felt the metal finger. There.

“Gotta open you up first before I fuck you.” More lube running down. Followed by something hard and dry and large teasing around his opening.

It was the last thing Peter had expected, and did nothing to convince his body he wasn’t in mortal danger.

He lifted his right hand from the table, not to get free but to interact, again, with this second lover, to think about those second pair of hands as Tony’s hands. Moving the hand gave him an idea. He began struggling with his right hand, just enough to keep the suit occupied, but not enough to remind his body he was in panic mode. Then, using the suit’s grip to pull against, jerked his body sharply to the right, sliding the suit’s hand with him.

He was still pinned to the table, but now he could turn his head and look directly into the suit’s face. The face of his dreams. The face of his most secret, never-confessed fantasies. (He might as well look at the suit-face. It felt, for the moment, that he was being fucked by it.)

Peter felt Tony’s right hand tighten just a little on his hip and the suit’s right hand pressed harder down on his wrist with a mechanical whir. A sound he’d heard before. The suit’s grip was applying power to hold him in place. and Peter’s traitorous brain made some quick calculations against his will. He had always assumed the suits were packing more punch than the Winter Soldier’s arm (after all the suit had two arms, and the assassin only had one) and for a moment it flashed across his mind that he might not have to worry about breaking the suit at all.

Not that it mattered. He had his face exactly where he wanted it now, and he was grinning. Feeling Tony’s hand tighten on his body was all he needed to remind himself where he was and why he was there.

He was more in control now — he hadn’t caught his breath and his heart was still pounding but suddenly he realized that was okay too. Tony could fuck him if he was breathless. Tony could fuck him with his heart pounding. It had been a very, very long time since he’d felt this sensation with Tony, this butterflies-on-crack sensation, but dammit, he had felt this way before before. And he remembered enjoying it.

“Please tell me I’m getting fucked by the suit tonight,” he managed, with what air he had. He couldn’t sound bold so he just grinned and hoped that would suffice. “Please tell me that’s why you chose this one… that this is the sex one.”

Tony pushed his smooth, nanotech finger inside Peter. “I told you, no one but me gets to fuck you.” He didn’t move his finger in and out, but instead moved it in a circle, pushing against Peter’s rim, stretching him wider.

“Jealous. You can’t even share me with your suit?” Peter began, but his words died in his mouth when he realized what Tony was doing.

“Jealous,” Tony confirmed. “Baby, I don’t even share you with myself.”

With the tech around it, his one finger was as thick as two would’ve been. “You’re so tight. Feel warm. Never did tell you what I meant by ‘reporting’, did I. Don’t need FRIDAY to do that for me.”

“…oh Tony,” Peter moaned. He tried to clamp down his mouth on the words but it was too late. He didn’t want to stop the banter just yet. Dammit the banter was the only thing he could control!

“Just how many nights did little Peter Parker stare up at that poster jerking off and imagine…” a second finger slid in next to the first “…the suit inside of him.”

He wanted to answer, to open his eyes again, wanted to smile up at the suit and flirt with it, wanted to make some comment about a gang-bang and something about ‘inappropriate use of Stark Tech’. But Tony was fingering him (and Tony could finger him better than most men could fuck) and more importantly, Tony was fingering him with the tech. Just the idea left Peter breathless. Tony had said something, had fed him a line, was waiting for a reply. But right now Peter was just trying not to whimper.

Two fingers were thick. But then, without a third added, they somehow became thicker. Almost as thick as Tony’s cock. He felt the smooth texture of the nanotech and his eyes went wide when he realized it was growing inside him. Somewhere a quiet part of his brain congratulated Tony on utilizing his expert knowledge of Peter’s body to create the perfect sex toy.

The rest of his brain, unfortunately, was headed right back into fight mode. He could just feel the quiet part of his mind sadly waving goodbye.

He couldn’t stop. He began to struggle helplessly with the hand holding him down. Trying to use the suit’s grip to pull himself further to the right no longer worked — the suit was wise to that move — and fighting the leg restraints only brought his predicament more sharply into focus. He could probably take the table apart, or at least rearrange the shape, but then what? He would still have the suit on top of him, and he was finally beginning to realize there wasn’t much he could do about that.

The two thickened fingers curled down and found the sensitive place inside Peter. And didn’t stop. Not when Peter started whimpering. Not when Peter started panting. Not even when Peter fell into his ‘ohgodTony’ moans.

But then the sounds Peter made went from moans into a hiss. His hips were twisting away from Tony’s fingers and he was fighting against the suit in earnest now, his face in a grimace. Now his teeth were clenched and he wasn’t pushing his hand up in the suit’s grip, he was trying to wrench free, his left foot sometimes struggling against the restraints and pulling up the leg of the table, sometimes flexing in the other direction, as if trying to push the table leg back into shape.

Tony didn’t remove his fingers but held them still. His other hand settled low on Peter’s back, spread wide, warm, solid. “Baby, shhh, shhh. Don’t hurt yourself. You can’t break free on your own. It’s impossible. But all you have to do is tell me plainly to stop. And I will stop. Then tell me which thing to stop. Tell me what you need, Peter.” Tony waited for Peter to be able to answer. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

Peter forced himself to freeze. Freeze and breathe. That meant breathing through clenched teeth, breathing while he moaned, but it was a start. He concentrated on Tony’s hand touching his back. If he had a hand free he would have reached for it. But without that, he had to speak.

“Just keep touching me,” he whispered. Whimpered. He hated the sound of his broken voice, hated the fact that he was begging, hated the humiliation he felt when he heard how small and broken he sounded. Still, Tony responded immediately.

Tony ran his hand down from the edge of his suit’s hand on Peter’s shoulder all the way back down to the center of his lower back and held it there. “You have me. It’s all me, baby, except on your ankles. Do you need that released? Because that’s the only part touching you that isn’t me. I can feel you twice on my hands. Where my forearm is resting across your shoulders, I can feel the warmth of your body even if it feels to you that my arm that isn’t touching you anywhere.

Breathing was becoming easier. Tony’s voice made it easier, and the suit hadn’t moved at all when Tony started talking. As he spoke, the presence of his words made Peter’s body relax in ways his own brain simply couldn’t. It was still in fight mode, but now it seemed to be in fight-WITH-Tony mode and that was far better considering the man’s fingers were in his ass.

“Keep your legs still, baby.”

“I can’t Tony…”

The Mark 42, his rebuilt Prodigal Son, stepped away from the wall. At the sound of its footsteps Peter shivered, until it dropped down to its knees and crawled underneath the table. Each hand wrapped around Peter’s lower calf.

“I’m touching you there. I can feel the strain of your muscles. You’re so strong.” The table’s restraints released and the suit’s hands moved to replace them.

“Better, baby?

“I c… I can’t… I… it’s just… I need…” He panted and tried again.

“Your face,” Peter said finally, and when he spoke, he was calm. He swallowed hard, but as he said it, he relaxed a little, knowing how true it was. It was something he needed, and Tony would give him what he needed. “It’s your face, I can’t see your face. I need to see you.”

The Mark 47 moved its grip from Peter’s shoulder to pressing firmly but gently between his shoulder blades. Peter was still pinned, but if he turned his head, he could see Tony standing behind him.

“I’m right here, Pete. I’m pretty much everywhere,” he said with a little smile. “And I can feel you everywhere I’m touching you.”

“That doesn’t feel like your fingers.”

“It feels like your ass,” he said with a smirk. “Tight and hot and pulsing around me. I can feel you everywhere at least a little, but the nanotech transmits every sensation if I want it to.”

“Can you feel this?” Peter asked, reaching back to grip, again, the wrist that was pinning him down. He also flexed against the other hand holding his wrist, not to break free, but to feel it move with him. The way Tony and he moved together in bed.

“Um hmm. I feel two touches on each of my wrists. You’re holding the one with your hand and the other you’re pushing up on. I could tell that with my eyes closed.”

“And you can feel this?” Peter asked, moving his legs in the grip of the second suit, even though Tony had already told him. This was so much better, feeling the six hands on him, and while his heart was still pounding in anticipation of what was to come, he felt safer, more grounded Tony was holding him with three pairs of hands. He felt less like a trapped animal, more like the center of attention. Like something precious.

As Peter tested the way he was being held, each hand gripped in response to his movement. When he pushed his ass back against Tony’s fingers, tightening and loosening around the nanotech, Tony slid them deeper inside. “Greedy,” he teased.

“Always,” Peter answered automatically, but he was still taking stock. As long as he kept moving, kept telling himself ‘Three pairs of hands, he’s making love to me with three pairs of hands’, he might be all right.

The fingers inside him didn’t even feel invasive now, although he still longed to feel Tony’s actual fingers on him. He flexed against the other four hands holding him down, reminding himself of their weight, of their force. He couldn’t stop himself. As sweet as Tony’s voice sounded his head just wouldn’t stop calculating. But they weren’t just binding, they were Tony touching him, and that wasn’t something he wanted to control. That was something he wanted to keep.

“Still only counts as lust though.” Tony moved his nanite covered fingers in and out, spreading them wider.

“Shhhhh… don’t list your sins around the suits.”

He slowly closed his other hand, the warm one, around Peter’s cock, and crooked his fingers again, but only as he pushed in, not when he pulled them back, massaging.

“Was listing yours. FRIDAY doesn’t know what a naughty, messy boy you can be.”

“Ohnodon’tTonyI… oh… do you want me to…?“

“Do I want you to make a mess on my lab table?”

Peter could only whimper in response, gooseflesh breaking out all over his body. His eyes were closed again and he felt close to tears. He would have turned his face away to hide it in the table the way he used to hide it in the bed. But Tony had trained him better than that. He lay his face flat on the cool surface of the table and pushed his body towards Tony’s fingers as best he could.

Tony’s hand stopped stroking Peter’s shaft and instead, palmed the dripping precome over the head until he felt the kid right on the edge. He let go of his cock. And retracted the nanotech from around his fingers. Leaving only warmth inside of him. Warm fingers who knew exactly where all of Peter’s most sensitive areas were aside from the obvious.

“Go on, baby. Make my workstation messy. I wanna remember what it looks like with your come dripping down it every time I look at it.”

That warmth, the warmth of Tony’s real fingers, were all he really needed. Then Tony’s words sent him completely over the edge. That quiet, logical part of his brain marked the occasion. Usually it took a bit of serious pounding before Tony could make him come on command, but this? This was a completely different level. He shouted as he came, his fingers digging into the suit arm’s wrist that was holding him down.

He wondered vaguely if he left marks on it.

Before Peter finished coming. Before the after-quakes even set in, Tony slowly pushed in, feeling him part around him despite how his coming made him want to close up. Peter hadn’t gone down when Tony started fucking him in long, slow, steady strokes.

Peter relaxed completely, floating on sensation. Tony had three pairs of hands holding him and right now it felt like heaven. His mouth hung open helplessly.

The suit’s fingers could move gently as well as hold tightly. The hand moved from between Peter’s shoulder blades, the kid was so relaxed, he wouldn’t be able to struggle. Tony ran that hand through Peter’s sweat soaked hair. He caressed down the side of Peter’s face, cupping his cheek. Then traced the edges of Peter’s flushed red lips with a metal fingertip.

Both of his hands held Peter’s hips as he kept fucking him. The Mark 42's hands left Peter’s ankles and slid up the inside of his legs until they were holding his thighs gently parted so Tony could get inside deeper. He heard Peter whimper and saw him flinch, but he didn’t stop them. Instead of holding apart, putting force there, the suit’s hands gently massaged Peter’s quivering muscles, strained from being held down to the table legs.

Tony started fucking faster, but just as steady. Leaving Peter’s unconscious senses able to anticipate him. “Baby, you’re being so good for us.”

Peter’s eyes went wide at the idea. Being ‘good’ for Tony was all he wanted in these moments. The words lit up every body in his body. But being ‘good for us?’ He wasn’t sure if he was terrified or turned on to the power of three.

The suit’s fingers gently massaged up and then down Peter’s thighs. The fingers near his mouth pressed down on the swell of his bottom lip, parting them and teasing just a little, seeking entry. The hand holding his wrist stopped pinning to the table and closed around it, fingertips against his pulse. All the while Tony kept fucking Peter.

“That’s it, Pete. Just like that. Let go. Give it to me. All of me. Everywhere.”

Peter moaned. Tony’s cock inside him was amazing, of course, but just at this moment he was moaning in exquisite relief.

In simpler times, when Tony had him like this, obedience to Tony’s commands was almost impossible. Tony had told him to relax, and so he did. And just like that, his body agreed to stop fighting. It was still calculating… Tony hadn’t ordered him to stop thinking after all… but for the moment his heart stopped pounding and his lungs were filling with blissful, heavenly oxygen.

He was also vaguely aware that there were now fingers in his mouth, but that was hardly a problem.

Tony, fully in control of the Mark 47’s finger in Peter’s mouth, pressed down gently on the kid’s tongue, making him open wider. When he did, a second finger slipped in, then both moved out until only the first joint was in Peter’s mouth, avoiding choking or too much pressure. Just enough that Tony could feel the warmth of Peter’s mouth. He wished he could feel more. The wetness. The texture. The movement of the boy’s tongue. Clearly the Mark 47, while older and rarely used, needed upgrading. But Peter didn’t need to know how much sensation he did or didn’t have in those fingers.

“Go on, Pete. I wanna feel that sweet mouth on my fingers.” Tony flexed his fingers that held onto Peter’s hips, without letting the movement be transmitted to the suit. Implying that he could feel on them what the kid was doing. Dammit… he wanted to feel it. The fingers in his mouth retreated, only to be replaced by the nanotech covered fingers on Tony’s own hand as he reached up. “That’s it, baby. Now I can feel you.”

“Mmmm?” Peter questioned, unable to speak (his mouth was full) but eager to please. Soon he realized that Tony’s fingers were in his mouth for a reason, and Tony had told him to suck. He obeyed.

The older Mark 42’s hands reached up to the juncture of Peter’s thighs and Peter tensed immediately, whimpering, his eyes going wide. He bit down on Tony’s fingers and began struggling again against the hands beneath the table, even when the hands began gently nudging his legs further apart. He knew what his lover wanted, it was Tony dammit, what he wanted was obvious. But like the leg clamps, every movement toward his legs sent his body right back into fight mode.

“Shhh, baby. I have you. You’re being so good for me. Need you to relax though.That’s it, Pete. I know you can do it. For me.” Tony altered his stance. He fucked down and then in, scraping across Peter’s sweet spot.

Peter’s teeth let go of the fingers. He didn’t pull his mouth away. It hung slack as Tony fucked him thoroughly. He couldn’t move at all. He wasn’t sure he would ever move again. He wished he could speak — could tell Tony how incredible it felt now, with Tony’s cock hitting him right there. But he knew he’d never be able to speak (all he’d get out was “ohgodTony” anyway) so he did the only other thing he could think of. He took the fingers deep into his mouth, down to the knuckle, and began sucking again.

That was incredible. Tony groaned low in his throat as Peter’s tongue lapped at the underside of his two fingers in his mouth. It was like fucking the kid and having him go down on him at the same time.

“I can feel you… both places… the same in both.” Tony’s words broke into a moan as the dual sensations merged in the pleasure centers of his brain. “No difference, baby. Fuck,” Tony moaned with pleasure. “It gives me everything about you.”

Peter was responding beautifully. His breathing was settled into regular panting, with small, little moans around Tony’s nanite covered fingers. The kid was enjoying himself, clearly. The build up nice and slow and regular. Tony could make him come that way. Hold out for a half an hour, letting Peter rise to a languid orgasm. Or he could do that.

Tony broke his rhythm and fucked faster, irregularly, then he pushed in sharply, angled straight across the boy’s prostate.

Peter whimpered and forgot about the fingers in his mouth for a moment. Then remembered what Tony wanted, and began sucking once again.

Tony took his fingers out of Peter’s mouth. They were slick with spit and moved softly over the kid’s lips. Feeling the tender skin, tracing the line, touching the corners. He knew that the nanotech had the capability of transmitting far more sensation that he let through during the normal course of battle. He didn’t exactly want to feel every hit he took. But he wanted to feel Peter. Every touch was like with his fingers, only… different in just enough of a way. Transmitted through a metal filter. He could feel the warmth of Peter’s skin and the cool metal of his suit.

Fucking irregularly wasn’t right enough to get either of them off. But the sounds that Peter made because he couldn’t anticipate what would happen next… those were more than satisfying. Little gasps. Sharp little yelps. Breathless ‘oh’. Never enough to fall into the more desperate ‘ohgodTony’ that Peter was so known for and always made Tony smile.

And then he stopped completely. Held halfway in. Leaving him wanting for either the sensation of being filled or entered.

Peter lay helpless on the table, eyes half closed, brain half-off, relaxing in the six hands that held him. He missed the fingers when they left his mouth, he loved the taste of them, so much like the metal around Tony’s arc reactor but different, but he didn’t move to get them back. Tony wanted to stroke his lips with his fingers now, so that’s what Peter wanted too.

But then something changed. It took him several seconds to register what it was. Tony was there, but he wasn’t moving. Peter tried moving backward, towards his lover’s body only to feel four metal hands and two hands of warm flesh holding him still.

Tony felt Peter try to push back. “Oh baby. Haven’t you figured it out by now?” The suit’s hands holding his upper thighs held Peter gently but firmly against the side of the table. “You’re not the one in control of your body this time. I am.”

He kept himself unmoving at that halfway point. “What do you want, Peter?” Tony asked.

Peter moaned. His eyes were wide now, no longer relaxed. The reminder of the suits, of what the suits could do to him (of what the suits had done to him) was lighting up his brain like a Christmas tree. But he couldn’t speak. Just now he no longer remembered the English language.

“So what you’re saying, by not saying, is that you want me to pull out and finish across your back? Feel my come all hot on your skin?”

“NonononoTony…” That was good. Those were two words he remembered.

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“No Tony please…” he begged. Three words. Three words were probably the best he could do.

“You want me to just stop, let go of you, pull up my pants and wait until we’re in bed tonight to finish?”

“Nonono… no… Tony…” He was close to tears. He fought to breathe. He knew what he needed to keep breathing, and he managed to say it out loud.

“I need you to keep touching me.”

Tony took one hand off Peter’s hips and ran it up his back. “There, baby. I’m touching you,” he said, changing nothing else.

Peter could breathe again. Just like that. He closed his eyes and focused on Tony’s skin against his skin, focused on the sensation of Tony touching his body. As long as he had that, he could function.

“Is that all you want, Peter?”

Peter found himself nodding. This was good. If Tony was touching him, he could think again. He was an intelligent human being, and Tony’s lover for more than two years. He could express himself with this man. He could actually express himself rather well. They were good together. He took a deep, calming breath, and turned his head enough to look back into Tony’s face.

“I need you to keep touching me. I want you to keep fucking me.”

Tony ran his hands, both of them now, over Peter’s back, down his sides, over the rise of his ass. “You want me to keep fucking you?” he asked.

“Please, yes. It feels so good, Tony.”

Peter took another breath. “And I know it feels good to you too.”

“How, Peter?”

“Oh… just…” Peter tried to move his body to demonstrate, but encountered two pairs of unmovable hands. He didn’t let his body react this time, he forced himself to stay calm. He swallowed hard.

It was a difficult mental problem, and difficult mental problems didn’t come along often for Peter Parker. He took it as a challenge. One he was ready to meet.

“Slow and steady?”

That wasn’t good enough. He wriggled a bit underneath the suit’s hand, then tossed his head a little to move sweaty curls out of his eyes. It was all to better see Tony (but it was also to buy time, making it easy to speak.)

“I know what I really want. What I really want is to know what you want. But what I want is slow and steady. Until I tell you to go faster. With your hands on my waist like you did. It feels amazing.”

“Yes it does feel amazing. Having you tight and hot around me,” Tony said. The suit’s hands on Peter’s legs slid down lower on his thighs, holding more comfortably. It was Tony’s hands on Peter’s waist that held him still.

“Just don’t let go…”

“Never,” he said as he returned to the long, slow strokes he’d been using before. Long, slow pressure inside of him.

“Promise.”

“Always, baby. Never letting go of you.”

“Your hands. I just need to feel your hands.”

All six hands moved slightly on Peter’s skin. But the two that belonged to Tony soothed over Peter’s sides again, settling on his waist, his thumbs sliding across Peter’s back.

“Am I yours, Tony?”

“Peter, if you think I’d ever let you go… or even share you… not ever going to happen baby. Not ever. You’re mine. No getting out of that. Not gonna let you go.” Tony bent over Peter’s back and put a kiss just above where his thumbs met around Peter’s narrow waist.

“Say it again.”

Tony smiled as he slowly rocked into Peter. “You’re mine. But the question is, baby… Am I yours?”

“Oh yes, yes. Let me move my hand… please?” He wiggled the fingers of his right hand, still firmly held down by the wrist.

“You can move your left hand.” He eased the hand that was pinning Peter down in between his shoulders over a little to the right, giving the boy more movement. “Both hands?” Tony said with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Greedy.” The Mark 47’s hand moved from Peter’s wrist to his forearm. “Now you can move your right hand.”

“But I want to touch you.”

“You can’t touch me with your left?”

Peter moved his left hand to grasp the suit by the wrist again, holding it solidly.

“That’s it, Pete. I can feel your hand on my wrist.” He kept his rhythm steady but only marginally increased his speed… before he’d been asked to.

“You’re going to come inside me, Tony,” Peter said dreamily, his eyes fluttering closed. “I want to hold you when you come inside me.”

“I will, you will. But not until you make my desk messy again.”

“NononoTony don’t…” Peter shuddered gooseflesh breaking out weakly on his arms and legs. He found himself almost sobbing at the idea. “I can’t again…”

The suit let go of Peter’s right forearm and cupped underneath his head, tenderly lifting and turning the boy slightly to face him over his shoulder. Peter’s hand followed it, gripping it firmly at the wrist.

“You can. And I wanna see you when you do.” He bent over Peter’s back again and kissed him there. “I wanna watch those beautiful eyes flutter shut. Wanna watch them open again when it feels too good. Wanna watch those lips part and gasp. Wanna see that face blushed pink. Your hair fall into sweaty curls.”

As Tony spoke, he fucked a little harder, a little faster, a little more directly on each word. “And then…” His hand replaced the suit’s hand in the middle of Peter’s back. “I wanna feel you clench around me… when you come.”

Peter let go of the suit’s wrist and wrapped his arm around his face, moaning and keening. The things Tony was saying would have made him come already but coming twice? This was difficult. He wasn’t sure he could, and he wasn’t sure what it would mean if he couldn’t.

The suit gently moved Peter’s arm from hiding his face. “Nuh uh, baby. Gotta see you. You didn’t hide last time, no hiding this time.”

“I can’t Tony.” Peter lay his face against the table, not hiding, not moving.

“I’m so close… fuck Pete,” Tony gasped. The Mark 47’s hand slid from under Peter’s head and both hands gripped his shoulders, pinning Peter. “God, baby… you’re…” His words failed him. “You’re everywhere.”

Tony dropped his own hand underneath Peter and began stroking his cock. “You have me so close… so close… Be good for me, baby,” Tony moaned, his tone desperate. He struggled to speak. He was always able to talk. The patter he kept up, dirty or tender, during sex was his thing.

Peter wanted to obey. Wanted it so badly. Tony’s hand felt so good, but he needed more. He turned his head weakly and looked back into his lover’s face.

“Does it feel good for you Tony?” he whispered, hating the breathless sound of his voice, speaking anyway. “Am I tight for you?”

His control faltered at the kid’s finding his voice as Tony lost his. But when Peter looked back at him, when he saw those eyes… his faltering control broke entirely. The hand he had on Peter’s hip tightened. As did the four hands controlled by his mind. Looking at Peter’s shoulders, he saw deep, dark purple-black bruises flower almost instantly. He let his grip on the boy’s hip lighten, and the suits’ followed, loosening just enough not to leave any more bruises.

In control of the suits again, he pulled back on Peter’s shoulders, moving him down further on his cock, buried all the way into his heat.

Peter screamed as he came, sobbing and shouting wordlessly, his throat straining. But he didn’t fight the hands. He was beyond fighting. He was helpless here. Completely helpless.

And, for the first time, that was all right.

They came as close together as two people could. Tony followed almost immediately when Peter cried out. He fell, stretched out across the kid’s back. Peter was still held by his four metal hands, but a warm metal circle pressed against his back. Peter could feel the hum of the arc reactor against his skin, its vibration faster and stronger than he’d ever felt it before.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony moaned, his breath warm across Peter’s back. “So good. My perfect… my perfect treasure… the most precious thing in my trophy case. Mine.” A soft kiss followed his breath. “Only mine. Always mine.”

Tony slowly stood, leaving a trail of kisses, on still broken breaths, down Peter’s back. His hands followed his lips, caressing, spread wide, with an easy pressure. Grounding. The Mark 42, now a little messy from Peter’s come dripping off the side of the table, stopped holding Peter’s legs. The hands slid slowly down them, gentling their way, until on reaching Peter’s ankles, they gave a tighter little hold, reminding him of where they’d started and why. Then they released him entirely.

The more skilled hands of the Mark 47 loosened but did not release Peter’s forearms. Tony stepped back just a little, sliding free from Peter, leaving a trail of his come running down the boy’s thigh.

“You were so good for me,” Tony said, with an awestruck tone. Peter had overwhelmed his senses. “Speechless, Pete. You took away all my words. All my thoughts. All except for one. He bent over one more time, kissing the small of Peter’s back. “I love you. That thought never leaves me.” The suit’s hands followed where Tony’s had been, stroking down Peter’s back, then up it to rest lightly across the back of his chest.

“I’m going to carry you to me.” Bending down, the suit lifted Peter into a bridal carry. Tony combed his fingers through Peter’s hair. His damp curls tangled around Tony’s fingers, as he eased his head to rest on the suit’s chest. He wasn’t ready to let go yet. He still needed to touch his boy. He let his hand drop from Peter’s head, trailing over his shoulder, down his arm, to his hand, to his fingertips, then finally leaving him. “It’s all right, Pete. I’m here. I’m bringing you with me.”

Peter’s eyes went wide when the suit gathered him up in iron arms. His breath was shaky and he trembled slightly. He moaned a little when Tony’s real touch stopped, but Tony’s words were still there. And he knew what came next. The thing he needed. It always came next.

Tony sat cross-legged on the sofa, missing Peter even though he could still feel the weight of the boy, through the suit, on his arms. Gently, the suit lowered Peter into Tony’s waiting lap. “There, baby. I have you. I have you.”

Tony held Peter a little tighter than usual. Closer than usual. More skin touching more skin. He felt Peter’s trembling, catching breaths, right on the edge of sobs.

He reached up and soothed the boy’s head into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, Peter. It’s okay. I’m here.”

He curled Peter’s body against him. Tony pressed a lingering, tender kiss on the curve of his shoulder. He kissed each place where there were still dark purple-black marks. Not healed. Not healing.

He full-body shuddered against Peter and Tony closed his eyes. His breath caught and held. He could’ve hurt the boy. Seriously hurt him. Broken bones, torn skin. Peter would eventually heal those bruises, but Tony could’ve hurt him. Speechless, overwhelmed, farther gone than he’d ever been in his life, in his hands, even in his suit’s hands, he held the most precious in the world. And he could’ve hurt him.

“It’s okay, Peter. You’re safe,” he said, more trying to convince himself. Trying desperately to reassure himself that he had only bruised, not broken. “I’ll always keep you safe.” He could keep Peter safe from anything. Anything except himself. “Right here. With me. Mine. You’re so good. So precious. Everything, baby. All of you.”

Peter took deep, gulping breaths and waited for his tears to pass. They usually did quickly, when he didn’t fight to hide them, and he never tried to hide them from Tony anymore. Tony had explained from the beginning that the tears were okay, and there had always been a few after sex like this. Peter pressed his face into Tony’s neck and took another deep breath.

Then he wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and sobbed.

Tony kissed the side of Peter’s head. “‘S okay, baby,” he said softly. “I want you right here. With me. Like this. Don’t want to let you go. Not yet. Not for a long time.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a whisper. “I need you, Peter. I need… I need to hold you.”

He pulled one knee up to support Peter’s back, to hold him close, Peter almost laying on his side in Tony’s arms, their chests almost touching. He held Peter as long as the boy needed. As long as he needed. Which was a very long time this time. He muttered soothing words, almost nonsense words, but he knew how much the sound of his voice helped Peter to calm. And this time, having lost his words, he needed to hear the sound of his own voice. To know that he was taking care of the boy. He had to take care of him.

It seemed the more Peter calmed, the less Tony did. His lips couldn’t hardly leave the boy’s shoulder. His cheek rested there. He looked at darkened spots against pale skin.

Peter’s arms were relaxed around Tony’s chest. His breaths even, his body was no longer wracked with sobs. He started to press kisses into Tony’s neck, moving a little away from his hiding place and resting against Tony’s shoulder. When he spoke, it was only a hoarse whisper.

“I’ve never… no one’s ever…” There was no way to finish the sentence. It wasn’t that no one had ever fucked him before (Tony knew that very well) but there had never been anyone who could have fucked him that way. Could have taken him apart that way. Could have made him give up control that way. There had never been anyone who had made him even dream of the things he had felt this night.

“Tony, I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

Tony held tighter as Peter tried to move away. He should’ve answered that, he knew. Instead he put five more kisses to Peter’s shoulder, in a very specific pattern. Then Tony rested his cheek against Peter’s cool skin. Peter felt Tony’s breaths become fast and caught, broken, shuddering. He felt wetness where Tony’s lips weren’t. He felt tears.

Peter was planning on asking Tony to carry him into the shower, something he hadn’t needed in a long time, but now the sound caught his attention and he found his spine straightening. He unwrapped his arms from around Tony’s neck and slipped his left around the man’s chest, the other around his head. He squeezed tightly for a moment, then relaxed. With his left arm he kept Tony firmly pressed against him and used his right hand to comb his fingers through Tony’s hair. He didn’t know what to say, so he waited.

“I hurt you,” Tony said when he could finally speak.

“No! No, it wasn’t that. It never hurts. It feels weird sometimes but it never hurts. I’m sorry I cried, it was just… it was a lot.”

“Baby, no.” When Tony leaned back to look into Peter’s face, his eyes were glistening. “I… marked you. I bruised you. I hurt… I nearly…” He shuddered again.

Peter’s brow knotted in confusion, both at the tears in Tony’s eyes (had he ever seen that before?) and the idea of being marked… he had been marked? He let go of Tony suddenly and reached to his shoulder, then to his back, trying to find the bruises Tony seemed to think were there.

“Marked… did you?”

“Bruises,” he said, very gently curving his fingers around Peter’s shoulder where he’d left the marks. “I could have…” Tony closed his eyes. “I might’ve…”

“Marked me? Oh Tony…” He cupped Tony’s face in his hand and brought their faces close together.

“I’ve wanted you to mark me for so long.”

“No baby, you don’t understand. With the suit… You heal from anything… maybe. I could’ve… pulled you apart.”

Peter smiled a little and touched his forehead to Tony’s. He put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, fingering the place where his own fingertip-bruises usually landed. They weren’t there now, of course. It had been a while since Tony had made him come that way, and he was more likely to leave dents in the headboard now than leave dents in Tony. He had hated them in the beginning, detested them. They were a mark of pride for Tony, but to Peter they were nothing but stomach-knotting. He wanted to see bruises on himself, of course, but never on his lover.

He remembered what it was like, hearing ‘I trust you’ over and over again when he didn’t yet trust himself. He decided not to take the same route.

Wrapping his arms around his lover again he held him close. “Okay. You could have pulled me apart. Maybe. Except you stopped every other time I needed you to, so it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t have stopped then, too. But if you left bruises, I didn’t notice. I didn’t ask you to stop. I was too busy coming my brains out.”

Tony shook his head. “I wasn’t in conscious control. Not of me. Not of them. It wouldn’t have mattered if you asked.” He looked at Peter’s shoulder again.

“Okay. But how many times I told you I was scared of hurting you, and you just told me over and over that you trusted me? Now I’m not allowed to trust you?”

Peter still had tears on his face, but now he looked into Tony’s face and smiled.

“Maybe you could have hurt me. Well, tech-genius, you’ll have to tech-genius yourself out of that one. Program failsafes into the sex suits. Call it the ‘suit sex’ protocol, or the ‘gang-bang program’ or ‘date-night’ or something.

“Because you are doing that to me again.”

Tony nodded. Peter’s words took the fear and worry and replaced it with something he could actually do. A tech solution. He was good at that. There wasn’t a problem he couldn’t tech his way out of.

“I had to do that with my nightmares. Create something that could tell when I was asleep. The implants could monitor my brain waves to tell the difference between my sleep/wake cycles. I just need a way to tell when I’ve lost conscious control while awake. I’m sure there’s some definable physiological response.”

He lifted Peter in his arms, kissed him on the lips, and carried him to the shower that was just off the lab.

“That can happen again. I want it to happen again. Just not before I’ve made a few upgrades to the sensors,” he said with a smile. “The older suits don’t have near enough of them.”

He let Peter down to stand on his feet. He turned him to face the mirror. On each of his shoulders were four dark purple oval marks with faint purple lines curving over the top. Tony turned Peter again and on his back were two thumb prints.

It wasn’t the marks themselves that Tony found so troubling. It was where they were. How they were placed. Peter liked to think that he was stronger than anything. But with the suit, he could have hurt Peter gravely. They both might want sex-with-suits to happen again, but it couldn’t happen until Tony had objectively tested protective protocols in place.

Peter was moaning and twisted his body around and around to get a better look. He fingered them over and over again, sometimes gazing at them in wonder, sometimes grinning from ear to ear. Finally he broke off to wrap his arms around Tony and pull him into a crushing hug. He was almost in tears again. “You marked me. You did. You finally did. I have bruises… oh god but they won’t last! Can I take pictures?”

Tony could see how happy it made Peter being able to be bruised by him in the same way as he bruised Tony. It made sense. And he had to admit, it appealed to his possessive side.

“Of course. I’d expect nothing less than a selfie from a millennial. Just keep it off of Instagram, huh?” Tony said with a smile.

#Starker #Messages Interludes #Messages Series #Von Writes Stuff #Thewitchway Writes Stuff #Von's Moodboards #said we'd post on friday it's technically friday here not much into friday but it counts!!!

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phantomgirl15 · 4 years

Text

We Aren’t Just Clones

Okay! Request done for @dp-marvel94! This was so much fun to write and I took a take on the clones that I never thought I would touch. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do! Hoping to have it posted on my AO3 account later which can be found in my description if you would rather read this request on there.

Words: 5,686

Dani looked out the window and sighed, her teacher droning on about how when writing proper essays there were introductions and paragraphs and conclusions that needed to be used correctly. He talked about how sentence structure was an important part of how the essay was written. She didn't care. It was eighth grade, and she already knew that she had much more important things to think about than if her sentence said: "a" as opposed to "the". There were better things to think about, like Outerspace.

She felt a shiver run up her spine as she looked out the window, a small blue wisp passing through her line of vision for a moment as her hand shot into the air, faster than it ever had. The teacher gave Dani the usual dirty look before asking what lame excuse was going to be given this time.

"Uhh... well, you see, I need to... feed my brother..?"

"Feed. Your brother."

Dani gave the teacher an awkward smile as she saw the glare of disapproval.

"Miss Fenton, I had your brother, Danny, right? I highly doubt you need to feed him, he seemed to be capable while I had him."

"Well, yes, but you didn't let me finish. I need to feed my brother's dog."

Dani wriggled in her seat, the cold running up her spine again, the ghost getting closer to her with each passing moment. She wanted out of that class more than anything.

"Go. I expect to see you after classes are done today for your detention."

"Yes, Sir!"

Dani dashed out of the room, her belongings going with her. She shoved her hand into her backpack while sprinting through the hallways, grabbing a thermos and strapping it to her belt as she felt a cold pass over her whole body and her black and white suit covered most of her skin. She began levitating off the ground and was able to blast through the halls, phasing through the wall and ending up in the sky outside the building, a cry of relief coming from her throat.

Dani flew in the direction that her ghost sense was pointing her in. She saw two figures in the distance and sped herself up, hands now plastered to her sides from the wind. She slowed down as she saw the two ghosts, one of them being her brother, Danny, who automatically turned his head to face her and gave her a look of shock as he realized she was there.

"Oh no..."

Danny looked to see his little sister as he felt her core getting closer to him. She sheepishly grinned at him and he groaned, his hands already full with whatever ghost was looking back at him. He saw the pale skin coming closer to him, large muscles bulging beneath the grey epidermis. He saw the large scar traveling all the way around the head, and the black cuffs around the wrists. Danny tried to get the ghost to talk, calling out to what he assumed was a "him" from how low the ghost's voice was while mumbling under its breath lightly.

"So do you want to tell me why you're not wearing a shirt? Or shoes? Cause without either of those I can't give you any service!"

Danny felt his sister pull up next to him, the ghost looking around in fear as Danny threw a rope made from his ecto-energy around it and tied it to a light post.

"Are you going to say anything?"

The ghost stared at Danny in silence, fear filling its eyes. Danny threw his hands up in frustration, a loud groan coming from him as he floated upwards a bit, giving up and knowing he had time until that ghost started talking.

"Fine, Do YOU have anything to say for yourself?"

Danny turned to Dani and saw her blushing green as he angrily looked to her. She stuttered out that she wanted to help him and get out of class for a little bit.

"Why aren't you in school?! What made you think I needed your help with a ghost who's less of a threat than the Box Ghost?!"

"I didn't like my class and I didn't..."

"You didn't what?"

Danny turned his body away from her, her eyes drifting towards the left as she tried to explain herself to Danny. He almost wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"You need to stay in school! You're almost done with eighth grade and still have a chance to accomplish your goals. You still have a chance to do what I'll never be able to do."

Danny turned his top half towards her, letting his lower half turn a moment later, his voice stern as he looked at her with disapproval. Dani tried to explain herself, but Danny wouldn't have it.

"Danielle Jamie Fenton, go back to school now. I don't need your help with this ghost and you still have a chance to go to college. You still have a chance to get good grades in high school and pass the standardized tests, both of which I failed at. I have no chances."

"But, Danny it's boring and I don't need to be in class the material is too easy and..."

"You have to go back. Jeez, Dani, you're just a stupid clone and supposed to do what you're told!"

Danny instantly regretted what he had said to his sister, watching her eyes widen as she floated above the ground. She sniffled for a moment before Danny wrapped his arms around her and apologized. He felt his own self-hatred dissipating as he tried to comfort her after what he had said.

"Dani, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it, I promise. You're not just a clone, I just don't want you to feel the same way I do about failing. You're a smart girl, I promise you aren't my clone, I didn't mean it. You're not just a clo..."

"Daniel. Fenton. Clone?"

Danny and Dani both jumped and looked to the ghost who had questioned who was in front of it. Danny gave it a questioning look and let go of Dani, reaching an arm out as Dani rushed past him and floated closer to the ghost, her face even with the ghost's face. Danny sighed and quickly made himself even with Dani, floating just in front of the giant ghost that made Danny think of the monster from the classic movie and novel.

"Yeah, my name is Danny. We did say clone. Was that something important to you?"

"I clone of Daniel. Fenton."

"Are you... Are you sure?"

Danny was taken aback as he saw this monstrosity and it said that it was his clone. He now knew for sure that the ghost was a guy.

"Father said find Phantom. Father mean. Father scary."

Danny exchanged glances with Dani, an uneasy feeling in both of their stomachs as they realized what was happening. Dani floated up to him and forced the rope Danny had used to hold him to the pole to disintegrate and let the ghost go.

"Come on. You wanna come and stay with us?"

"Can have home?"

"Yeah, C'mon Frankenstein. You need a good home, just like us. You won't have to be afraid of your new dad. Unless you're afraid of fudge."

"You sure?"

Danny didn't even say anything, just motioned for the other two versions of him to follow him back to his home, waiting to see what his family would say when he tried to explain what had happened.

. . .

"Another clone?"

Their mom questioned as Danny and Dani stood in front of the giant ghost that Danny had nicknamed Frankenstein. Dani flinched and bit her lip as Maddie rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Danny rubbed at his neck with his left hand like usual.

"You know the spare room is a mess right now. You should have given me a heads up so I could fix that. He'll have to stay in the ops center tonight. You two are welcome to join him if he needs comfort. I'll try to get the room clean after tonight so he can have his own room."

"Thanks, mom!"

The kids ran up to the ops center while Maddie stood in the kitchen sighing, knowing that the spare room on the second floor needed to be cleaned and began walking up to the room and seeing all of the old ghost hunting weapons that Danny and Dani were uncomfortable with, even after coming out about their ghostly alter egos.

. . .

So, Frankenstein, what's Vlad doing?"

"Fath... Vlad mean. Vlad cruel. Vlad hurt brothers. Vlad focus on Perfect Son. Vlad disappointed in us."

"Us? Who's us?"

Dani sat herself up on one of the desks in the upper lab area, her phone in her hand as she ordered pizza for the three of them. She gave a questioning look to the large ghost as Danny opened the blinds, sunlight streaming into the open floor layout. He was only able to freeze as he saw Frankenstein walk over to the window waving.

"What are you doing...?"

"Hi, brother!"

Danny and Dani exchanged looks as they saw another ghost flying towards the window, what looked like a sheet draped around the body. The heard Frankenstein clapping and prancing with joy, his mohawk bouncing slightly as he hopped around.

"Put in an order for another pizza, I have a feeling we're gonna be here a while."

Danny whispered to Dani and she quickly nodded, what they assumed was the next clone phasing through the window and hovering just above the floor. Dani looked at him and half-smiled.

"Hellooooooooo."

"Uhhh... Hi?"

Danny waved once, flicking his hand through the air, confusion filling his mind as he waited for something more than a hello. He sat motionless for a moment, before being almost barrelled over by the larger clone rushing past him, grabbing the small little ghost in a sheet and wrapping him between large biceps and the chest area. The sheet had fallen, and the other two saw the small, black, top half of a skeleton.

"Brother! You here!"

"Faaaaatheeerrrrr saaaaiid to fiiiind the Phaaaaantoooommm."

"That's us. Is your dad Plasmius?"

Dani asked, and both ghosts nodded violently, their heads looking like they were about to fall off from how quickly they were being shaken.

"Great... that guy is a real pain in the neck. What has he been doing this time?"

"Experiments have been done on us repeatedly. They've caused the last one to be unstable, all except for Father's "perfect son" that he says will be completed soon. But that was days ago."

Danny stopped the ghost by holding his hand up. He heard the words being held out too long to make them sound more like how the ghosts from Halloween speak and would say any words. He grabbed his phone and called Jazz on it for a moment. The skeleton looked at him, nervous about why Danny had stopped him in the middle of explaining.

"Uh huh... okay. Thanks, Jazz."

Danny hung up and took a deep breath.

"Jazz is gonna teach both of you how to properly speak. Whether that be without elongating words or create proper sentences. She's gonna make it so that we can understand all of you. If you could try to speak so I can understand, I want to know what else is happening."

The skeleton nervously let himself float downwards and lean up against the window, what appeared to be a spine curving with the floor so the clone appeared to be seated. Dani walked over and tried to comfort him, but the ghost saw the hands coming towards him and was filled with fear so that Dani had to pull away. Obviously, Vlad had done more experiments on what Danny was thinking of calling Skelly than he had done on Frankenstein.

A knock on the front door interrupted the eerie silence in the ops center and Danny told Dani to grab the pizza from the front door. He stood with the other two, who were really comforting each other with what Danny figured was a strong trust from the fact that they were technically siblings. He kneeled in front of Skelly and put a hand on his knee.

"Hey, man. I know you're scared. I know this seems to be like PTSD cause of what Vlad did to you, but I want you to know that you're welcome here, that you're me and Dani's brothers, and that Jazz can give you therapy sessions to make the memories with Vlad a little easier to process."

The skeleton and giant looked at Danny and slightly nodded, Danny, knowing that it was the same thing he would have done so that he didn't look weak. He smirked, thinking that maybe they were related. He stood back up, hearing Dani walking back into the ops center. He looked at her and smiled, but it quickly fell as he saw the look of concern on her face.

The pizza was in one hand, and a slight green glow was found in the other. Danny walked up to her hand and saw what looked like a small pixie sized version of him lying passed out in her hand.

"That brother two!"

"Like, brother number two, or another brother?"

"Uhhhh..."

The giant pressed his pointer finger to his chin, trying to figure out what it meant. Danny pressed his hand against his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as his hand lowered.

"Work with me, Frankie. How many more clones, are there? Skelly?"

"Just one after this one. But it's the "perfect son". This brother is the last one of us. Of the mistakes."

Dani firmly stated that they were not mistakes. That they were people, with their own minds, just like her and Danny, and he agreed.

"You help brother? Brother melty."

"Wha...?"

"He is unstable from the experiments. Even more unstable when he's full size rather than minuscule. Please, can you stabilize him? Can you save him?"

Danny motioned to the door, and the others followed him, hoping to find a cure for the instability. The lab was a disaster, the little clone still passed out and not responding, one eye missing and the consistency of the epidermis proving to be gelatinous. Danny scanned the lab trying to if any experiment would prove useful.

He heard a call from Skelly from across the room.

"Will this do anything? It's labeled to be a stabilizing fluid."

Danny grabbed the vial and saw that it was the same liquid as what he spritzed Dani with. He handed it back to Skelly and nodded grimly. The ghost grabbed the needle and watched his hand shaking slightly, tapping the bubbles from the vial before inserting it into his brother's arm.

He was not one that was fond of needles, but he was less fond of losing his brother. He watched as the fluid was injected slowly, a thick liquid making it look even more disgusting to a non-medical professional. He looked at Danny and saw a nod of approval.

Frankenstein and Skelly watched their last misfit brother and watched as his body melted between Dani's fingers and fell to a puddle on the floor. Screams of terror echoed around the room, Jazz running down the stairs thinking that she had been hearing screams of a traumatic experience, which was true.

"Danny! What happened."

"Wait for it..."

Danny held up his finger, shushing Jazz as she walked into his hand, nobody's eyes leaving the puddle on the ground. Skelly and Frankie cried in front of the puddle, the green goop showing reflections of the tearful eyes.

A moment passed in pure silence before the puddle began to ripple across the surface. The clones stopped crying and watched the little ghost suddenly zip out of the puddle, his energy glowing brighter than it ever had as he zoomed in circles around the room. Danny and Dani fist-bumped as they saw the expected results.

The little zippy ghost floated over to the others, talking fast and higher-pitched from his smaller size, thanking them for saving him.

"You guys don't quite understand, I cannot thank you enough for saving me I thought I was done for! You must be Danny, and you must be Dani, and you must be Danny and Dani's sister Jazz, and you guys are awesome and are we all related in some way? Do I get to call you bro and sis?"

"Woah woah woah. Slow down little jibber-jay."

Jazz held her hands up and offered to shake the little guy's hands, Danny snickering and calling the little guy Tiny. The ghost suddenly had a bright flash of light around him and was full size. Danny took a double-take and his jaw fell open, entertaining the two other clones, Tiny laughing slightly, the only difference being that he was a mirror of Danny, his hair parted to the left rather than the right, being left-handed rather than right-handed, his smile lopsided on the right as opposed to the left, and had two right feet rather than two left. His laugh was also slightly deeper than Danny's, the voice coming out smooth and happy rather than Danny's constant voice cracks and anxious tone.

"You guys okay?"

Tiny hovered a bit off the floor, leaning back on the air. He laughed a bit more, his personality was the opposite of Danny's. His calm composure made him understand why this clone was experimented on the most out of all three brothers. Danny saw that he was trying to play cool even though he was having traumatic memories even worse than his brothers'.

He looked like he was happy, however, to be in a safe environment. He looked like he could get used to it easily, and Danny knew he now had three new brothers as opposed to what was going to be two, which was supposed to be one. He sighed and made sure to mentally note that they would need to produce "adoption papers" to make the three feel welcome, even though they had nowhere else to go and his family was already going to be welcoming them with open arms.

"So... ummm... what about the "perfect son" that Father kept talking about?"

Tiny tried waving his hand in front of Danny's eyes, getting chuckles that relieved his anxiety from his brothers, and a small "what?" from Danny. Dani telling Jazz that they would be back upstairs for the therapy when they were ready. Jazz nodded and walked to the stairs, wishing her five siblings luck.

"Well, you guys need to not call him "Father" that's weird. We call him Plasmius. Or Vlad. Or Fruit-Loop. Whatever fits your style. And, you'll have to tell me about the "perfect son". I don't know about that."

"Oh."

Tiny lowered himself, his happy-go-lucky spirit weakening for a moment. Skelly dipped his head, and Frankie tried to look anywhere else to avoid eye contact.

They began to explain;

"The perfect son is the clone of you that Vlad takes the most pride in. He tried to make another you, supposedly for love, but we assume he wanted an obedient son that he could use as a sidekick. He ordered us, we felt no love. He ended up destroying more clones than just us. We were three of the five who didn't fall apart instantly. Dani was one, we were three, the perfect son is the last one.

He is perfect, at least in Vlad's eyes. He is supposedly half-ghost, Vlad had been a stalker and found your mid-morph DNA, and tried to make the clone stabile. And he succeeded. That clone is functioning, but he does not have his own mind, at least, he doesn't get control over what he gets to do. He might as well not be alive at all, because Vlad won't let him live.

We thought we would be able to love him, to hang out with him into the late hours. But we didn't. Nobody - Nothing - was allowed to be anywhere near the "perfect son". We don't even know if he has a name now. If he does, it would be Daniel. Unlike us. We were unnamed the whole time. The nicknames Danny has provided us are as close as we're gonna get to names."

The eerie sound of their voices all in unison gave Danny chills, his mind racing to try and decide what was going to happen to Vlad next. This was child abuse, this was malevolent action, and it sounded like he was berating the undead, or, half-dead beings. The concept of cloning him was already criminal. But who would take a large group of teenage ghosts seriously?

Dani had placed her hands over her mouths, the horror of what was happening to their last brother scarring her and worrying her brothers. All five of them were scared for their last brother's safety. Danny finally put his fist down.

"We're gonna save that last ghost. Daniel, you said? We're gonna go save him."

"Aaaare... Aaaaaare yoooooou suuuuurrre?"

"He's not easy to work with. Vlad's probably been poisoning his mind so he thinks he's better with Vlad than to come and live with us."

"You save brother?"

Danny looked them over, making a plan, the boys and Dani gathering in a circle to help their sort of biological brother.

"This is what we're gonna do..."

. . .

Tiny busted the lock open to Vlad's lab, Skelly and Frankie not too far behind him as he rushed in, faster than anyone could ever imagine a little pixie sized ghost moving, his body returning to full size once he was in the room and waiting for Vlad to see that they were there. They didn't see the old man, only their brother sitting in the usual tube he had been created inside of. The three ghosts gasped in shock, Danny and Dani trailing behind them and having their mouths drop, seeing the young teen captive in what he considered his room in Vlad's mansion.

"Oh my god... He thinks this is how people are supposed to live..."

Dani couldn't pull her hand away from her mouth as she saw where she had been created, how she had felt before Danny had rescued her. She saw her shattered tube, the one Danny had broken out of when she let him go. The three clones they had just met flew to their brother and began to bang on the glass, trying to wake him up from what appeared to be sleep.

The young boy opened his eyes, his vision being blurry as he tried to see who was tapping the glass. He saw Frankie first, the giant waving frantically and smiling. Daniel blinked a few times and saw a skeleton that was only a top half was floating at about shoulder height and was breathing a sigh of relief. Daniel started to ask, "who are you," and Tiny flew up to him and grinned, the lopsided grin making Daniel feel safe.

"We're here to get you away from the fruit loop."

"But... But I can't go. Everything I know is here. What will I do without Father?"

Frankie smashed the glass, his hands easily breaking the thin layer, Skelly pressing the button to release his wrists.

"You come home. With us."

"You... you would want me to come home with you?"

Tiny leaning an elbow on his shoulder, Skelly wrapping an arm around him, Frankie picking them all up.

"We wouldn't be a family without you."

Danny and Dani were keeping watch, the four clone siblings all crying tears of joy from seeing each other and all being able to have a safe home. They finally got Frankie to set them down, making sure to keep quiet and sneak out of the house properly. Daniel shook hands with Danny and Dani, knowing that they were going to be taking him and his three brothers in.

"I'm surprised we didn't see Vlad."

"Don't worry about it, Daniel. Our dad will make sure you guys cant get hurt."

"Thank you."

Daniel looked over at Danny while they were flying back to FentonWorks, The six of them nervous about what Jack and Maddie would say in the morning. He looked to see everyone smiling and then asked a simple question.

"Can I be called Danny, too?"

Danny glared at him for a moment, only glancing at him before looking forward again.

"Okay, okay... fine. Not Danny. How about Dan?"

Danny's eyes widened and he quickly told the clone no, his mind wondering if maybe all six of them needed trauma therapy from Jazz, rather than just the four that were the recent clones. He briefly told the clone why that couldn't be his name. They saw FentonWorks coming into view and Danny laughed as he saw the pizza in the ops center.

Dani sat and talked with the four other clones, while Danny went to his room, saying he had a special project to work.

"You guys are pretty cool. You're just like me! Except Danny gave you guys nicknames."

"Yeah. Danny funny."

Frankie sat on the floor, leaning against a wall. Skelly floated around the light in the ceiling for a moment before deciding that he was going to lay back in the air. Tiny paced, his curiosity making it hard for him to sit still. Daniel smiled at the other clones.

"I can't believe you guys wanted to be with me. I was horrid to you."

"Cause of Plasmius. Dude, we were experimented on. Unstable, controlled, told that we're worthless. But Danny said it himself. We're all people. And I guess that's good enough for the Fentons. They're letting us stay with them."

"It's okay, really. Tiny, Skelly, Frankie, Daniel, you're welcome here. But it's late. Get some sleep and you'll meet Mom and Dad tomorrow. They'll love you."

The lights were all turned off except for the one in Danny's room.

. . .

Dani walked into Danny's room and woke him up off his desk, a puddle forming on his desktop between his arms.

"They're waiting downstairs. What do you have up your sleeve this time?"

"You'll see."

Danny grinned, grabbing stuff from the printer in his room as Dani shrugged and walked towards the stairway leading to the kitchen and seating area in FentonWorks. He saw his four new siblings sitting at the kitchen table, feeling love and affection from his parents, the whole story from the night before already told to them. Danny knew the dark circles underneath his eyes proved how much effort he had put into this project.

The clones looked in his direction as they heard his footsteps from across the room.

"Hey, Frankenstein."

Danny held out a paper to him, smiling widely the whole time.

"I think I say this for all of us, but we're glad to have you in the family, Adam."

"Adam...? Where get name Adam?"

"Heh, I remembered when we read that book about the monster you made me think of, he said he was like Adam from the bible and that he should have been called Adam. I thought it fit you."

"Thank you, Danny."

Danny smiled at his new brother, hearing his first proper sentence, knowing that Jazz must have started working with him.

"No problem, bro. Skelly? You next? C'mon over here."

Danny handed Skelly the adoption papers he had come up with, revealing his new name.

"Remy. I like it. It rolls off the tongue. Remy. Remy Remy Remy. Thank you, Danny! You gave me a place to be a person."

"You showed you had guts last night. You've earned a real name and a real place to live. Welcome home."

Danny turned and grabbed the next paper off the ledge to the stairs where he had set them. He read the name on it and smirked to himself, glad that he could do something for the clones who deserved so much better. He didn't know how long Vlad had been torturing them, and now, two of them couldn't lose their smiles. He hoped the other two would feel the same way.

"Tiny. You're the paper I just picked up."

"You got me a paper, too?"

He took the paper and looked at it, his hands shaking as he saw the name.

"Link."

"You made me think of the little video game elf. Happy, small, energetic, fun. I got a lot of entertainment out of that game. I'm sure you'll be a hundred times more entertaining, but I felt this name fit you."

The ghost shrunk down to pixie size in an instant, Danny already seeing the tear stream down his face before his face was too small to see.

"Thank you. I... I love it."

"Anytime, my dude. Just don't let Dad mistake you for a fly."

Danny grabbed the last paper and turned back to the last clone, who had been holding his head down, thinking that he would be kicked out.

"You think I forgot about you? Daniel, come here and see this paper. It has your name on it."

Danny held the paper out with two hands, his clone moving slowly, so far his face not matching the smiles of his brothers. Danny called his name and then he looked up.

"Oh. Okay, okay."

"You're welcome here."

"Thanks. My name is... Niel?"

"Yeah. The other Daniel in my class in fourth grade said to call him Niel cause I was already Danny. I thought of you, cause there can only be one original me, but that doesn't mean we can't be similar or brothers. I ended up being good friends with him until he moved away from here. You're not gonna leave me, too. Are you?"

"I could never. Thank you for your acceptance."

"You're just another me. How could I not want you around?"

Danny laughed as he finally got a smile out of Niel. Link, Adam, and Remy were smiling just as wide, Dani and Jazz giving him Kudos for what he did for the guys.

"They're not just clones, They're family."

Danny felt a family hug around him, the clones thanking him repeatedly. Danny only grinned and hugged them back. Remy floated upwards, asking when they would be able to start school, and Jack and Maddie exchanged nervous glances with each other as they realized they couldn't send their ghostly children to public school. Link and Adam began chattering about how much fun learning would be.

. . .

"Welcome to the new Fenton School for Ghost kids!"

"A school, just for ghosts?"

Remy and Link exchanged glances, as the Fentons opened a brand new school just for them. They saw a couple of other ghosts at the school and smiled, watching Adam try to make friends, Jazz having taught him how to speak a bit better.

"The Fentons opened this school just cause of us. I didn't think they really cared."

Link waved as Danny, Dani, and Niel walked to Casper since they all had human portions they could use to go to public schools. The three of them were all annoying each other like real siblings rather than the original and two clones.

"From what I hear, this is gonna be permanent, even though Mom and Dad are trying to find a way to make us look right and have human portions."

"Really? I didn't think they would even consider trying to find anything past the bottom of my ribcage! They're really trying to make us at least semi-normal and partially human?"

"Yeah. And last I knew, they were headed in the right direction. But they like ghosts now. So this school is gonna be open either way."

"Oh neat! Hey, are those my pants?"

Link started to walk towards the front door and the steps leading to the new ghost school, half buzzing his lips as he rolled his eyes and slung his backpack over one shoulder to try and look cool.

"Remy, you can't even wear pants. Are you gonna come with me to make friends or worry about the pants you can't even wear?"

"I'm coming!"

He rushed after his brother, hearing Adam trying to flirt with one of the girls that now went to the school when he passed him.

"I wonder how Niel is doing?"

. . .

Niel looked to his left and saw Dani, and then to his right and saw Danny. He watched Dani wave and walk into the Junior High that was just a couple blocks before Casper High.

"Thanks for letting me come to school with you guys. I know it's only been a couple of weeks since you welcomed me into the family but I can't thank you enough..."

"Just don't embarrass yourself too much and you'll be fine. Most kids leave us alone now that they're too busy with ghost attacks."

Danny threw his books in his locker and waved to his two friends from down the hall.

"Good luck man, you'll be fine."

Niel saw his new locker next to Danny's, the thought of class making him nervous as he figured out where his first class would be, then his second. He thought of how his brothers were doing at the ghost school, their excitement being just as much as his was that morning. He stood in front of the door to his first class, his palms getting sweaty as he tried to get there without being early or late or on time;

Link and Remy stood in front of the door to their first class, Adam towering behind there. The look of the door making them nervous to see who else was in their class. They pressed themselves towards the door, whispering as they tried to look cool when the door swung open;

. . .

"Here we go."

Four smiles entered the classrooms on the first day that ghosts were allowed at school. Because just as Danny had told them, they weren't clones. They were their own people. They were family.

#danny phantom #fanfic #taking requests #phandom

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thewildwaffle · 5 years

Text

Abduction - Chapter 24

My goal is to finish this by November so I can participate in NaNoWriMo with a new story. Or at least that’s the current plan. That means in order to make that happen, I’ve got a lot of writing to do in not a lot of time. I think it’s doable though. The next chapter is already well underway, as I was going to make it part of this one, but it was going long (in writing and time) and the chapter I have planned afterward (what will be 25) would fit better if I split it up.

As always, any comments, critiques, suggestions, anything- are very welcome and appreciated. Not only do they help me improve my writing, but they also help with motivation and ideas. You all are the best, stay lovely!

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

***

The wristband wasn’t too tight or too loose. In fact, she could almost forget it was there if it wasn't still on her wrist every time she looked down.

She followed her guards down the corridor back to the holding cell. Carson whined and leaned against her hand as they went. He really didn’t like that muzzle. It had been decided that even though they could keep the dog with them, he had to be muzzled when outside the holding cell or Drin’s lab. It made sense, she supposed. From their perspective, Carson was a massive canine predator that could potentially attack at any given moment. He wouldn’t though. Not without good reason. He was actually a pretty well-trained dog. He didn’t mind being leashed, but he hated the muzzle.

“Soon, Carson, it’s okay boy,” Wenona scratched his ear gently.

They rounded the final corner to their holding cell and her guards paused. She nearly walked into them. Confused, she looked up and around. There wasn’t anyone else in the hall. Did they somehow make a wrong turn? No, this was the right place. She could basically walk here from Drin’s lab in her sleep by now, and that was definitely their room beyond the glass. So what’s the big…

Where were the guards? Not her guards of course, but where were the guards that were supposed to be with Mike?

Her lead guard, Chook or something like that, activated her comm device with a flick of a thin wrist.

“Team 4, this is Team 2 Leader, state your position.”

There were two soft beeps to signal the end of the message. Everyone listened intently for the response.

It took a few moments to get one, but finally, a voice came back through the small speakers. “Team 2, this is Team Leader 4, we are returning to the position now.”

Chook’s thin yellow face scrunched and she clacked her beak irritably, “And why, please tell, were you away from your position to begin with?”

“We were called away to help deal with the issues in sector 18.”

“You were called away,” Chook’s voice got so shrill that Carson began whining again. Wenona scratched at his ears again to soothe him while she shot a glare at Chook for bugging her dog. Or, not her dog, the dog. The. Carson.

Not that Chook noticed anyway. “What grug-head called you away from your post watching the human?” The response again took a few moments, but by the time it came, they could already hear the actual voices of Team Leader 2 coming down the hall. “Our orders were from Lieutenant Commander Grayk. Human Mike was asleep and we were needed with rounding up and recapture in Sector 18. If you have a problem with that, I suppose you can take it up with Commander Rozar.”

Before they had finished their last sentence, Team 2 Leader had rounded the opposite corner, flanked by three other aliens on his team. Two more yellow, featherless bird-looking aliens and two more gray tree bark-textured aliens. They weren’t often on guard duty, but Wenona had noticed that a few would regularly rotate in now and again.

Chook huffed loudly and led Wenona to the door of the holding cell. She brushed off the help and went in by herself. Carson followed, still keeping his head close to her hip.

Immediately, she knew something was off. Carson usually went right to where Mike was in the room. He liked Wenona alright, but it was clear that Mike was his favorite human. It was a fact that Wenona did her best to not get jealous. But Carson walked up to the mound of blankets she had assumed Mike was asleep under, sniffed it, whined, and looked back to Wenona with the most forlorn look she’d ever seen on a dog.

Mike wasn’t here.

She glanced back at the door behind her. The guards didn’t know. They hadn’t even looked in the room after she and Carson walked in. They still hadn’t even shut the door, they were too busy talking, Chook was still there with one long-fingered hand resting just to the side of the door’s control panel.

Her first impulse was to break out, rush the door. But then the words of the guards’ conversation started to register.

“...was a breakout. The whole section of cells completely set loose. They’ve had to down a few specimens, most of the prisoners at least had enough sense to surrender immediately.”

“Most?”

“There were still a few out, but they had enough to finish rounding them up, so we were sent back.”

Wenona completely turned around to the door. A breakout? Who? Is that where Mike was? He probably caused it. It sounded like something he’d do.

Ugh. Couldn’t he have at least run this plan by her first? She probably would have tried to stop him, yeah, but maybe she could have at least helped him think things through. Seriously, what had he been thinking? What was he going to do now? Get caught? What was that going to do to the plans they’d been making so far? She felt for the small blade she had tucked into her sash. Her mind swirled with plans, ideas, trying to think ahead, trying to deal with this new curveball.

“...try coming for the humans?”

What now? Who was this? Who’s coming? She started listening in again, but the guards were finally starting to close the door. It wasn’t sound-proof, but it still would be the end of hearing what the heck was going on around here.

She should make a run for it. Take a page out of Mike’s book and just go. She turned around to face the door. Her muscles tensed, preparing to spring forward, rush the guards, go! But she didn’t. She stood there frozen, hesitant. What would she do when she got out? Where would she go? Who was out and might try “coming for the humans”? There were too many variables! Too much unknown!

The door shut with a click. It wasn’t a loud click, but it might as well have been an echoing boom to Wenona. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Now what? What could she-?

She should have gone! No! That wouldn’t have been the smart move. But would it have been the right move? She didn’t know. She didn’t know and the options and results of what could have been kept bouncing around in her head. She chose wrong. She chose wrong- she should have gone! No. No- she chose right, now she can lay low and see how things play out. But what if that took too long? Mike. Is. Gone. He is gone and she should have escaped when she had a chance, but she blew it because she’s too dang cautious.

The guards were still outside, but it appeared that Chook and his team were on their way out. She walked slowly around the room, trying to act natural.Her hands were shaking now. Her whole arms were trembling a little bit. She folded them across herself to keep them still. She felt the cuff Drin had put on her wrist. That was gonna have to go. If she got out- or when, when she got out, she’d need to get that dumb thing off. Drin had said it was a health monitor, but honestly, if there wasn’t some sort of tracking device in with it, that would just be plain stupid on his part.

Carson barked and nearly made her jump. He had settled on the edge of the blankets, sniffing around the spot where Mike had stuffed some pillows to look like he was there. The guards looked at them curiously. Carson barked again.

“Shh! No, stop! It’s okay, it’s okay, be quiet!” The last thing she needed was to have the guards come in and find out Mike was gone. She sat down next to Carson and started petting his head comfortingly. He rested his head in Wenona’s lap while his tail thumped rhythmically against the “bed”. That seemed to do the trick.

“So now what?” It was a question partly to Carson, but mostly to herself.

Now what indeed. Before, she had just wanted to come back to the room, get some sleep, and figure out what to do about Drin’s tracker band with Mike and how it would affect their plans of getting out of here. Those plans were shot and now she needed to figure out what to do. Her nose prickled and it felt like her heart was being squeezed tight. She should do something, anything. But she didn’t know what. She tried thinking of an escape route, but her mind just wouldn’t stay still long enough on one idea to plan anything reasonable.

What had Mike been thinking? He probably hadn’t thought. Where was he now? What was he doing? Was he coming back?

She stood up at that. Would Mike come back? Of course he would, she had no doubt. If he didn’t get himself killed before then, that is. That last part was quite a real concern. He could be a real idiot, but circumstances had made him her idiot. She couldn’t sit around and wait to be rescued. She was no damsel in distress, she was Wenona Peters, and she was getting out of here!

Somehow.

A loud alarm made bother her and Carson jump. She covered her ears and Carson ran around barking, looking for the source of the noise that seemed to be coming from everywhere. She had to take a few deep breaths to calm down her heart rate. As she did, she glanced to the guards outside the room. Even though she could only make out just a little more than their silhouettes, she could tell they were just as tense and confused as she was.

This was it.

This was just what she needed.

She was going to act this time. She had to. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was something. Was it a smart plan? Maybe not, but maybe she could pull a ‘Mike’ and get out of here anyway.

She screamed loud enough to rival the blaring alarms. As convincingly as she could, she collapsed. She managed to let her head and shoulders hit the soft blankets, but her hip wasn’t quite as lucky. She’d probably get a bruise there, but honestly, if that’s the worst she has to deal with by the time she got out of here, then that would be amazing.

Carson was at her side instantly, sniffing her face and nudging her, barking nervously as if to rouse her. She stayed still. She had one chance to make this look as convincing as possible. It took only a few moments before she heard the holding cell door open.

“Get that beast under control!” Wenona could see three guards enter through nearly-closed eyes. One held a long pole, like the kind dogcatchers use. Carson growled as they approached hesitantly.

“Did you see what happened?” “No, I just looked in and she was down!” “Oh, Klern beyond, she’s not bleeding, is she? Tell me there’s no blood.” “Call the medics. And get Drin down here now!” “Do we have a readout on her vitals?” “Chekk, get that monster out of the way. I don’t see any blood. Just do your flargin’ job!”

Carson was pulled away and Wenona felt her guard’s clawed hands fumble under her nose. She held her breath. They moved their hands to her neck, likely to check for a pulse, but they put it on the wrong part, over a muscle. They wouldn’t find a pulse there.

“Frewan,” the guard muttered.

They started pushing her to roll her onto her back, but as soon as the arm Wenona had fallen on was free, she grabbed the nearest guard by the leg and in a move that surprised even her, she threw them halfway across the room. She rolled with the throw, sweeping a leg to knock down the next closest guard. She jumped at them, grabbing their blaster from their holster. The guard who now had Carson at the end of the pole stared blankly at her, eyes wide open, too shocked to move. Wenona wrenched the pole out of their hands, released the loop that held Carson, and before the guard could draw their blaster, swung the end of the pole up at their head. They went down with a thud. She grabbed their blaster too. Best be as armed as possible right now.

A beam of light shot right in front of her face. She flinched back. The guard she had thrown across the room was back up, blaster pointed directly at her. She dove towards the still-open door. The fourth guard, who had been calling in medics, had only just realized what was going on inside the holding cell and couldn’t react quick enough as Wenona barreled into them and threw them hard into the ground.

A sharp jolt hit her in the side. It felt like electricity shooting across her skin. She felt herself be thrown back against the wall, or maybe it was the spasmodic reaction of her legs that sent her back. In any case, she hit hard. Hard enough to see stars. The first guard limped forward, blaster fixed on her.

Only a few steps away from the door of the holding cell, there was a deep and low growl. The guard screamed as Carson attacked, biting and shaking their blaster arm. They dropped the weapon and fell backward, trying to get away from the massive “Earth Beast” still on them.

Wenona winced as she pushed herself back up to her feet. She leaned against the wall, shaking her legs until she felt they could support her completely. Everything felt like a weird mixture of tingling and numbness. Except for her head and right side of her body where she’d hit the wall. Those hurt. She could feel her heartbeat throbbing at the impact spots, and where she must have been shot.

She reached out for the door frame and stumbled to it, rebalancing herself for a moment. The fourth guard’s blaster was on the floor. She didn’t quite trust herself to bend down to pick it up, so she carefully shuffled forward and dragged it closer to her with her foot, then kicked it back out the door behind her.

“Carson, come here boy.” Her voice felt too high and soft, but Carson heard it and came. He kept himself between her and the guard who was now clutching their arm and trying to get back up. Wenona reached for the control panel she had seen the guards use before. She didn’t need to understand whatever language it was in to recognize symbols for ‘shut door.’

She sighed with relief as she rested her head against the wall. She did it. She knew this was just the start of getting out of here, but it was a successful start.

“Guard Team 4, this is Drin. What is so important that you had to summon for me at this time of the cycle? End.”

Shoot. The communicator. She could barely hear it over the alarms that were still going off. Wenona hobbled to the fallen fourth guard. She probably should have shoved him in the holding cell too. Although, she really didn’t feel like she had the strength to right now, and it turned out to work in her favor anyway. She struggled for a bit with the controls of the comm device.

“Guard Team 4. I am losing patience. Respond or I will be writing your entire team up for insubordination and incompetence. End.”

Wenona must have hit something right because a soft click sounded on and off. She hit it again. “Uh, this is Guard Team 4,” She thought she did a pretty good impersonation of the guards if she did say so herself. “We apologize for the miscommunication. Everything is fine here. Nothing to report.”

The line was quiet for a moment. Maybe she didn’t do as good of an impersonation as she thought.

“You are on duty with the humans, yes? My readings show Wenona with an elevated heart rate. End.”

Shoot. Oh shoot. She took a few breaths, trying to calm down her heart. Could he read it right now? How fast did the readouts show up? Oh, shoot.

“There was… a fight… between her and the… her and Mike. Nothing serious, they’ve calmed down now. Think the alarm scared them a bit too. We’re all fine here. You can… go back to whatever you were doing... End.”

“Mmmhhhhmmmmmm…” Wenona scowled. Drin’s condescending attitude wasn’t even being directed at her, and it still managed to tick her off. “I believe I sent another band to be fitted for Mike. Why hasn’t it been activated yet? End.”

Wenona wasn’t sure she’d seen Drin give the guards another tracker with the guards when she left his lab. Though the fact that she didn’t see it didn’t mean much. She’d been a bit preoccupied being angry and trying to smuggle out her blade.

Her blade! She could rid herself of the dumb tracker band! But then Drin wouldn’t be getting her readings. But, she countered to herself, then she wouldn’t be able to be tracked.

“We’ll get right on it, sir, we apologize for the delay. End.”

“And get someone on those alarms, would you? Some of us are trying to rest. End and over.”

Wenona sighed. He’d bought it. She slipped the communicator into the folds of her sash. She felt for her blade. She was lucky it hadn’t cut her in all the…

Where was it? She couldn’t feel it. It must have fallen out, but she couldn’t see it on the floor out here. She even tried shifting the fallen fourth guard. Nothing. She barely managed to not fall over when her head started swimming.

It was quiet. She looked up. The alarms had stopped. Good. Not only was it loud and annoying, but it would have kept security on high alert if they’d kept going. She just needed to wait for things to die down.

“How are you still up?” Wenona jumped. The guard Carson had attacked was at the door leaning against it, looking out at her. No. Not at her. They couldn’t see through the terrible one-way window. “I know you’re still up. I can hear you out there. How in gadring are you still up after that shot?”

Wenona tenderly rubbed the spot where she’d been hit.

“Eh.” She shrugged, even though they couldn’t see her, and carefully slid down the wall to sit, resting her back against the wall by the door. If she’d dropped her blade in the holding cell, she had no way to cut the dumb tracker off. Her best bet now was to wait until Drin was back asleep and couldn’t monitor her while she made a break for it. In the meantime, she could rest, gather her strength.

She smiled. Considering the outcome of the last time she’d broken out of an alien cell, she’d done remarkably well just now.

She picked up the two stolen blasters she had dropped. They were the same. All the guards she had seen had one exactly like these.

“‘Set blasters to stun,’ am I right?” She looked up at the guard who followed her voice down, though still not able to actually see her. “Guess your ‘stun’ settings aren’t strong enough to keep me down.”

The guard had a number of new swears and phrases Wenona hadn’t heard before, but they stopped suddenly when Carson began growling again.

“Good boy.” She pet his head. She figured she’d give herself five minutes. Five minutes, and then it was time for step two of getting off this ship. Whatever step two happened to be.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#abduction #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #space #aliens #humans are space orcs #humans in space #wenona #original writing #writblr

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mypassionfortrash · 4 years

Text

And here’s a couple of snippets from that Elsie fic. Nothing’s been proofed.

The bell at the front of the shop tinkled merrily making Elsie’s ears prick up. The sound was growing increasingly familiar as Christmas approached. The steady influx of customers sliced through the precious alone time she liked to steal on her shifts. But she always had time for Roger.

He left no time for Elsie to dart through on to the shop floor, but he was tapping away at the bell on the cash desk, eager to draw her out. “I don’t have all bloody day!”

“Oh, it’s you again,” Elsie smirked, placing her hands on her waist. “What can I do for my worst customer?”

Roger leaned over the cash desk, his features doused in mischief. “I believe the question is, what can I do for you.”

Elsie rolled her eyes and took up her post opposite Roger. She studied his expression, searching for some hint as to what he was scheming. Practically nose to nose with him, and she was none the wiser. “What are you playing at?”

Roger shrugged, diverting his gaze. “Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“How was Montreux? Did you get me anything nice? Chocolate? Cheese? Oh, what about some schnapps?”

Roger became a Cheshire Cat. He hoisted a red gift bag into the air, and dangled it in front of Elsie’s face. When she reached for it, he tugged it from her grasp. “Santa told me you’ve been a bad girl this year.”

Elsie cocked her head to the side, and tugged her lower lip between her teeth.

“I’m starting to believe him.”

“Santa’s full of shit, Roger. What’s in the bag?”

Roger took a step back from the counter, and raised an eyebrow. “You’re not allowed to open it until Christmas Day.”

“Oh come on!” Elsie sighed, blowing fiery strands of hair upwards. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m warning you, darling,” Roger scolded, handing the bag over. “Christmas Day. Santa’s watching.”

“Santa sounds like a bit of a pervert.”

“He probably is.”

Elsie’s features lightened. “Which reminds me. I have something for you.”

Roger puffed out his cheeks, his eyes growing, before his expression deflated. “Don’t get me wrong, Elsie, I like you. I’m flattered. But I’m just not that interested in you.”

Elsie disappeared into the abyss at the back of the shop once more, leaving Roger’s monologue unheard. She returned with an armful of records. “These should be the last of them,” she huffed, dumping the pile of vinyl on to the counter in front of Roger.

Roger gingerly looked through the records.

Elsie clasped her hands underneath her chin, waiting for Roger’s assessment of her sleuthing efforts. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wrap them. Between studying and working, I-”

“They’re perfect. I thought most of these were impossible to get hold of anymore,” Roger remarked as he marvelled at Elsie’s offering.

“Some of them are totally out of print. You’ve no idea how many mothballs I had to brave at the market for these.”

“You shouldn’t have, Elsie.”

“It’s the least I could do to get you to leave me alone.”

Roger stifled a laugh as he whipped his hand over Elsie’s arm, delivering a swift smack. Then that familiar look of concern returned. In a jovial mood, Roger appeared youthful and almost childlike. But when worry weaselled its way into Roger’s brain, he looked like a puppy left out in the rain. It amazed Elsie how quickly he could flit between the two; his baby blue eyes dashing from sparkling to sunken in seconds. “How are you spending Christmas?”

Elsie shrugged, allowing her arms to flop down at her sides. Her nose twitched, and yet her tone was cold and nonchalant. “Probably with my mum. It’s a five hour drive, but I can’t have her spending Christmas alone. You?”

“My mum and I are heading over to my sister’s. She’s got kids. Christmas is just nicer with kids in the house.”

———————————————————————————

“That sounds lovely,” Elsie smiled. Her mind wandered. Roger had kind eyes and a devilish sense of adventure. And the way he thought about the world in equal measures of wonder and fighting spirit. He’d make a great father someday, Elsie thought. He’d love that.

She looked up. Roger’s lips were still moving.

“What was that?”

“I asked when you were open again.”

----------------------------------

As much as Roger loved his mother, his sister, his nieces and his nephews, it only took him until Boxing Day to get out of the house. If his mother wasn’t quizzing him on his love life, his sister was badgering him to distract the kids, leaving him smothered, with no time for himself. Even in his own home.

So, with fists clenched tightly inside his jacket pockets, Roger set off on foot, through the dark, into the deserted town centre. Unsure of what he searched for, he settled for a bottle of whiskey from the one open off licence. Like a precious newborn, he cradled it underneath his coat. Sauntering down Main Street.

Shutters had been pulled on all the shops. The only light to be seen hung in hazy yellow beams, strobing down on to the crisp, white pavement. A perfect blanket, crunching under every step. There was nothing - no one - there to ruin it. A small reprieve from the noise of home; Roger couldn’t stifle a satisfied chuckle to himself.

And then something caught his eye. A strip of gold spilled out on to the street just a block away; it flickered like a candle in a darkened room. Someone was inside the dark, grimy little record store. The one he must have wasted days inside. Clinging to the bottle like he clung to hope, his footsteps fell faster. Maybe she’d be there. The girl with the feathered red lipstick and the kind eyes. The one that made the best coffee and had the dirtiest laugh he had ever heard. The nineteen year old girl. Elsie.

“Elsie,” he sighed, looking through the glass. Roger was certain. The figure moving around inside, behind the grimy metal-grilled window, and snaking through the rows of records, was exactly the person he needed to see. The door to his left never looked so inviting.

—————————————

Roger pushed the door open just a crack. The sound of Elsie’s favourite band seeped from the shop out into the baron night. Roger never did like Heart. He met Anne and Nancy once. They ignored him for Brian. How dare they. But he did love it when Elsie popped one of their albums on the turntable behind the till and shimmied and sashayed her way around the aisles of records. She couldn’t sing. Not even close. But in those moments, she looked so at ease with the world. He loved that.

She wasn’t singing now, though. Accompanying Heart tonight was quiet shuffling and the sound of records being dumped into boxes.

Roger sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Elsie,” he said, slipping inside. “I saw the light was on and I was just…”

Upon hearing his voice, Elsie stood up straight with her back to him.

Caught off guard, Roger continued. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

Elsie went back to sorting through the pile of records in her arm. “Same to you, Roger.”

Blinking his eyes and shaking his head, Roger drew closer. Not once did she look at him. Her cold welcome only drew him closer, until he loomed just over her shoulder. “Have I done something.”

Shrouded in a curtain of bleach blonde hair, Elsie turned in the opposite direction. “No,” she began, stopping in the corner of the room to distribute more records into their rightful places. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re not your usual chirpy self, that’s all. What’s the matter, Elsie?”

Elsie’s voice shook as she dodged Roger once again. “Nothing.”

Sure enough, Roger followed her. Again. “I’m not buying it.”

“Well you’ll just have to,” she choked, scrambling to get away from him.

Roger reached out and grabbed Elsie’s arm. She flew around to face him. Finally.

A constellation of violet and navy curved around the outside of her eye; deep, murky hues reeled Roger in until he came close enough to touch them. His mind raced with questions like who, or when, or why. But all he could do was stand there, eyeing her with the kind of pity reserved for wounded animals, not knowing what to say.

She couldn’t bring her eyes to meet his. Shame raged in her gut for even allowing him to see her like this. Let alone be so close to her. “You shouldn’t be here, Roger.”

“I think I’m right where I need to be,” he sighed, assessing the damage.

She felt like a lab rat under a microscope as Roger attempted to understand. “Can you let go of me?”

————————————

Roger swiped his finger under Elsie’s blackened eye once again, before dropping his hand to his side. He trained his eyes on his feet, taking a deep breath. His shoulders hunched up. And then fell. “You know, I’ve got a bottle of whisky tucked into the lining of my coat. You look like you could use a drink.”

She still couldn’t look at him. The humiliation weighed on her mind like a sack of coal. “That’d be nice.”

Elsie and Roger shuffled through to the back room. Single file like a death march. She flopped down on the couch while he shrugged off his coat. Her eyes were glued to him as he pulled two mugs from the cupboard, clinking them down on the countertop beside the kettle. The metallic sheer and crack of the bottle lid punctuated the silence between them. It did nothing to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. The liquid sloshed into the mugs like the seasick stomach she wrapped her arms around.

Roger’s baby blues peered down over his half rimmed glasses with the kind of concern your father might show if you really were in trouble. The ‘drink up and it’ll all feel better in the morning’ kind of look. Not that Elsie would have known about that. But she took the mug and threw the measure back. She regretted it. The burn seared its way down her gullet and set her churning innards alight.

But my god, if she didn’t feel better.

Every muscle in her body loosened as she sank back on the couch. She wiped the excess fire water from her lips on the cuff of her jumper. And then she spoke. Or rather, slurred. “How was your sister’s? You were at your sister’s, weren’t you?”

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southernwolf16 · 4 years

Text

Downtime Chapter 2

Chapter 1 AO3 ff.net

Finally posting this after 1,000 years. Also, I’ve decided that Downtime will be three chapters instead of two for reasons I cited here.

To @o-c-o-c-o, @madameazzure, @thedreaminus, @silverwolf8940, @noblesselover99, @shanhei322, @pandora-twists, @galaxysilver and @icylook and everyone else who might be interested, here’s my contribution to the fandom.

WARNING: VERY LONG CHAPTER. I just realized that my stories are getting longer. This is 11.4K words.

Frankenstein returned to M-21′s room after wrapping up his work in the lab. He took a moment to observe the other RK members then decided to send them off to bed, to their dismay.

“It’s almost midnight and we have a busy day tomorrow,” he said. “M-21 will probably wake up by then.”

Nobody moved from their positions. Frankenstein repressed a sigh. Of all the time to be stubborn. “You know the last thing we need is for M-21’s caregivers to fall asleep on him.”

Seira was first to comply, patting M-21’s right hand before pushing her chair back. Tao set down the hand towels he fetched. Regis checked if M-21 was sufficiently covered with his blanket and stepped away as well.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to stay?” Takeo confirmed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Everyone filed out of the room at the clear dismissal and soon enough, Frankenstein was alone with M-21.

Raizel arrived and found Frankenstein studying data on the monitors. He padded to a chair on the bed’s right side, saving the one closest to M-21 for Frankenstein. There was a fine sheen of sweat on M-21’s face so he went about securing a towel to dab it off when Frankenstein beat him to it.

Done with the task, Frankenstein sat down and with his head bowed murmured, “I’m sorry, Master, my behavior a while ago was totally uncalled for.”

“We both know who you really owe an apology to,” was Raizel’s astute response.

No words were further exchanged between them as Frankenstein focused on M-21, whose temperature was already close to dropping to forty degrees Celsius.

A few more hours flew by. M-21’s fever was nearly down to thirty-nine degrees Celsius. Frankenstein and Raizel saw his right hand curling into a loose fist.

M-21 let out a groan and sluggishly opened his eyes.

Frankenstein released the pent-up breath he did not even know he was holding.

Raizel leaned forward in his seat, all the better to confirm what his eyes were seeing. “M-21…”

M-21 moved his head in search of the voices and recognized the blurred figures to his right as his vision cleared. No sound came out as he tried to call them by name, his too dry and painful throat an impediment.

“Don’t try to talk yet.” Frankenstein headed to the kitchenette and came back with a glass of water that included a bendy straw. Before long, M-21 drained the whole glass and was looking expectantly at him so he went to get a refill.

M-21 drank half of the water until his thirst was satiated. Sinking back on his pillow, he fixed his gaze on the pair by his bedside.

“Rai. Fra—why’s your name so long?” M-21 mumbled in a voice faint and rough from lack of use.

Frankenstein almost laughed at the complaint. His Master’s name was longer by far. “Calling me ‘Boss’ works fine with me.”

“That’s not your name. That’s your job,” M-21 said.

It will be best for you to find a nickname.

Frankenstein could imagine the delicate wrinkling of Raizel’s eyes by the subtle amusement in his tone.

Perhaps we can ask M-21 for suggestions?

Frankenstein practically spluttered but kept a straight face after remembering the advice from Muzaka. “Point taken.” Switching to doctor mode he asked M-21, “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

At that, M-21 knitted his brows. “It’s cold and everything hurts.”

Raizel reached out to pat M-21 on the hand. “It will be over soon. Frankenstein here is doing everything he can for you to get well.”

“Your medicine’s already working, so it won’t be long and the pain will be gone.” Frankenstein dabbed a fresh towel on M-21’s forehead and his sweat-soaked hair. Next, he dipped the towel he removed in the nearby basin, wrung it out and restored it to its previous location.

M-21 heaved a sigh as the cool towel somewhat eased the throbbing in his head. He returned to staring at Frankenstein and Raizel. “I had a strange dream…”

Raizel and Frankenstein waited with bated breath for M-21 to tell them more.

“There was purple…and black…and screaming…”

Raizel glanced at Frankenstein then ventured, “Were you frightened?”

“Yes.” M-21 was quick to affirm. “But there was a sound. Then it was warm….and safe.”

“The purple and black,” Frankenstein began, his voice laced with remorse, “that was me.”

“No, I’m sure that’s Dark Spear…being noisy and all,” M-21 declared.

Frankenstein conceded with a sigh. “Still, that wouldn’t have happened if I controlled myself better—”

M-21 was outright frowning at him. “Did you do it on purpose?”

“Did I what?” Frankenstein faltered at the question. “I—wait, I don’t think that makes—”

“It’s an accident,” M-21 pressed. “Will you do it again?”

Frankenstein wanted to argue his case, wanted M-21 to find fault in his actions. But his self-deprecating thoughts petered out at how unhappy M-21 looked. “Very well, I’ll try not to.” This he could promise at least.

“That’s good enough for me.” M-21 patted Frankenstein on his left cuff. “We’re good.”

Frankenstein broke into a small smile as something inside him lifted. “You should go back to sleep. It’ll help with your recovery.”

M-21 frowned again and tried to tug at Frankenstein’s sleeve. “But I have to tell you something. I just forgot what.”

“It’s alright,” Frankenstein replied as he freed his sleeve from M-21’s grasp, “you can tell me when you’re all better—”

“No, I really…have to tell you now.” M-21 turned silent, his eyes going half-mast that Raizel and Frankenstein assumed he was going to fall asleep in the next few minutes.

“Cockroaches…” M-21 piped up, baffling Raizel and Frankenstein in the process, “are very hard to kill…right? I might have…cockroach genes somewhere.” He had to blink several times to drive the sleepiness away. “Can you check?”

Frankenstein’s tone was gentler as he answered, “I don’t need to check. You don’t have a shred of cockroach genes, I assure you.”

“Really?” M-21 was scarcely able to stifle his yawn.

“Yes, really. Why would I lie to you about that?” Frankenstein gave in and carded his fingers through M-21’s hair. “Go back to sleep. When you wake up everything will be better.”

“Okay.” M-21 shifted a little to find a more comfortable position. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, M-21,” Raizel and Frankenstein responded, though they were both aware it was almost 3:00 a.m.

At last, M-21’s breathing evened out. Frankenstein withdrew his hand and sat back.

Really, this child. Not even twenty-five minutes awake and already making people go through a myriad of emotions.

Frankenstein, what are cockroaches and why is M-21 comparing himself to them?

Ah, of course, Master doesn’t know what cockroaches are, Frankenstein realized. It’d be a shame if he encountered one of those abominations in the house or at school.

So Frankenstein went into a lengthy talk about what cockroaches were, browsing the Net on his phone for some pictures and a video or two for Raizel to see. He even touched on their chances of survival in a nuclear holocaust.

We must have been remiss if he still views himself as small, dirty and insignificant. Whether due to delirious rambling, a brutally honest self-assessment or both, Raizel was not pleased M-21 referred to himself as such.

Old habits die hard, especially if they’d been drilled into him for years, Frankenstein observed. I think M-21’s improved, though he’s bound to slip on occasion.

I would rather he forget about this.

Master? There was an alarmed undercurrent in Frankenstein’s voice.

Do not fret, I have no intention of wiping M-21’s memory. Much has already been taken from him. I only wish he will not remember the bad parts.

No mirror was required for Frankenstein to tell he was red as a tomato at the implication.

We really must find you a nickname, Raizel solemnly decreed.

Master…

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It took two more hours for M-21’s fever to completely break, and another hour for him to open his eyes for a second time that day.

Several details caught M-21’s attention once he was free from his sleepy haze. There was the rhythmic yet unobtrusive beeping of a machine. There were things attached to his left hand and his chest. And he was not in his room because the ceiling had a very nice shade of green to it—

“Master, you were right about that color,” someone spoke, to which another voice hummed in reply.

The voices were very familiar. M-21 turned his gaze to the persons in his peripheral vision. “Raizel-nim…Boss…” he rasped before his throat acted up and he started coughing.

Frankenstein poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table, added a straw and instructed M-21 to take slow sips.

“Where am I?” M-21 managed to ask afterwards in a frail voice.

“In the lab,” Frankenstein replied. “The hospital wing, to be precise.”

“You finished it?” M-21 regarded the room appreciatively. They just finalized the blueprints for the area last time. “It looks great.”

“Well, there was a very urgent need for it.” Frankenstein had to point out.

M-21 recalled the excruciating pain that overwhelmed him as everything went black. “How long was I out?”

“It has been seven days since we rescued you,” Raizel answered.

“Seven days?” M-21 began to squirm in an attempt to push himself up from the bed, to Frankenstein and Raizel’s horror.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Frankenstein placed a hand on M-21’s chest to halt his movements. “I’m going to raise your bed, alright?” He adjusted the head of the bed’s angle from fifteen degrees to thirty degrees and made sure M-21 was comfortable in the more elevated position.

Meanwhile, Raizel busied himself with pulling up and smoothing out M-21’s blanket.

In the midst of this activity, they did not notice the door unlocking and the rest of the household spilling into the room.

“M-21!” Until Tao’s exclamation, that is.

“Not so loud, please.” Tao’s voice rang over and over in his head and made M-21 wince.

“Sorry,” Tao apologized in a near-whisper while he and the others drew closer. “I mean, you’re awake…”

“Yeah, took me a while, though.”

“Welcome back, nevertheless,” Takeo said the perfect words to describe the household’s sentiment.

All eyes fell on Seira as she reached forward and brushed M-21’s hair to the side. “How are you feeling?”

M-21 blinked at the action. “Like I’ve been mauled by werewolves then thrown off a skyscraper at least four times,” he responded without a second thought.

Tao and Takeo tried hard not to laugh and ended up snorting instead. Someone who sounded like Karias also chuckled.

M-21 gave the question a more serious consideration. “I’m mostly tired and sore. A little cold too. I’ll live.”

“Hmph, as if you’d get taken down that easily,” Rael uttered, earning stares from the room’s occupants.

M-21 could feel his lips curling into a smirk. “Did you just compliment me?”

“Don’t delude yourself, I’m merely stating a fact.” The lack of enmity in Rael’s words belied his crossed arms and arched eyebrow.

“If you say so.” M-21 did not push the subject. There was something else he had to find out, anyway. “What day is it? Raizel-nim says it’s been seven days since I got rescued.”

So Regis told M-21 the exact day and date, and they could almost see the cogs turning in his head.

Then it clicked. “It’s exam week, aren’t you supposed to be at Ye Ran?” The question was addressed to everyone yet M-21’s eyes were set on Seira and Regis.

“It’s still early so they all came to see you,” Frankenstein was quick to say before anyone could get a word in edgewise. A glance to the left and he saw the time.

“But they have to go now because the clock’s ticking.” He started herding the others out, leaving M-21 alone with Raizel.

“I will be taking my exams next week,” was Raizel’s succinct explanation after spotting how puzzled M-21 appeared.

M-21 was well aware Raizel could do whatever pleased him. And he was likely still recovering from his injuries too. A pang of guilt began to bloom in M-21 at the reminder.

Something touched his hand, disrupting his train of thought. Or rather someone.

“It is good to have you back.” Raizel continued to pat M-21 until Tao sauntered inside.

Tao gave M-21 a jaunty salute. “Your nurse for the day reporting for duty.” He walked over to the chair beside Raizel and sat there. “Is there anything I can do for you or anything you need?”

M-21’s brows wrinkled at the niggling suspicion he was forgetting something important. It came to him when his eyes strayed to his hands. “My nails…”

Nowadays, M-21 had to file his supposedly blunt, human nails whenever he changed back from his werewolf transformation because they retained sharpness akin to his claws. It was a recent development they discovered the hard way following an incident involving Frankenstein’s favorite vintage curtains, the sofa and Takeo’s newly-bought dress shirt.

“I filed them as soon as I got the chance.” Tao held M-21’s right hand and pressed his palm against M-21’s fingernails. He showed his uninjured palm. “See, all blunt. So no worries, you’re not gonna rip anything or poke anyone by accident.”

“Thanks.” M-21 was relieved at having one less thing to be concerned about. “There’s a bathroom here, right?” After Tao confirmed this he went on, “Maybe I can at least wash my face—”

“Actually, there’s something we’ve been doing that’ll be easier now you’re awake.” Frankenstein joined the conversation.

Raizel presumed this as his cue and left so Frankenstein had leeway to explain his plan.

M-21 was hesitant at first but granted his consent in the end. Knowing Frankenstein, Tao and Takeo were in charge of the more sensitive aspects of his care made matters less discomfiting.

That and he really wanted a bath, never mind if it had to be done while he was in bed.

M-21 had a check-up as Tao carried out the preparations for his bath, and learned he ran a fever yesterday that broke only this early morning. Frankenstein declined to give further details and told him to focus on getting as much rest as possible. Although quite perturbed by the evasive response, M-21 chose to heed Frankenstein’s advice for now.

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Baths could surely do wonders, of this M-21 was convinced. He was still exhausted and achy everywhere, yet it felt like all was right in the world after his bath.

Anyone’s mood will improve if they didn’t feel so grimy, M-21 mused as he watched Tao and Frankenstein make swift work of changing the bed sheet, blanket and pillows from his position on the sofa.

Tao asked if he was okay. “I’m fine,” M-21 replied before a yawn overtook him. He just woke up and he was already drowsy?

M-21 did not protest when Frankenstein lifted him again. Tao was also close by and took charge of guiding his IV stand. Once he was settled in bed, Frankenstein extracted his blood and brought it to the lab for testing.

At M-21’s request, Tao readjusted the head of the bed’s angle to forty-five degrees like Frankenstein taught them. “You’re still cold?” He just finished putting a pillow behind M-21 and caught him shivering a little.

M-21 nestled in his blanket. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“I have just the thing for you.” Tao went to the built-in closet and got what M-21 assumed was a blue gray shirt. Unfolding it revealed that it was a button-up shawl collar cardigan.

“Up you go.” Tao slid his right arm behind M-21 to assist him in sitting. The cardigan was laid on M-21’s shoulders. “I hope this helps.” His eyes wandered to M-21’s left hand. “Ah, wait, I have to get your IV—”

“It’s alright, I probably shouldn’t wear the sleeves in case Boss needs to do something.” M-21 drew the cardigan closer. “I don’t remember owning anything like this.”

“Well, now you do.” Tao smoothed the cardigan down M-21’s back.

M-21 held one of the sleeves and admired the complex patterns on it. The cardigan seemed handmade so it must be expensive. “Who am I supposed to pay for buying me this?”

Tao laughed. “You’re not supposed to pay for your gift, silly.” He helped M-21 lie back and was now occupied with fixing his blanket.

M-21’s eyebrows rose. Was it just him or was there a bashful undertone to Tao’s statement? “You made this?” he hazarded a guess.

“Well, yeah, so how is it?” Tao asked. “I used your uniform measurements as reference so the fit should be just right. And the color, I actually had several options but I think you look—”

“It’s warm.” M-21 was moved by the kind gesture. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Tao grinned from ear to ear. Choosing to create the garment rather than dwelling on his anxious thoughts on those nights sleep was elusive was all worth it. He dropped his voice. “Hey, just between you and me, I’m gonna knit something for everybody in time for winter.”

M-21 wore a conspiratorial expression. “My lips are sealed.”

Just then, the door opened and everyone aside from Raizel and Frankenstein trooped in the room.

“Fresh from the garden.” Karias set a glass vase of colorful blooms on the console table in M-21’s view.

Rael placed an olive green pillow with bamboo leaf patterns beside M-21. “Here, in case you need another one.” He pushed on before M-21 could say something. “It’s cheap, you don’t need to pay me. Not that you have to in the first place.”

“Uh, okay?” was the only response M-21 could think of.

Tao prodded at the pillow to test its softness. “This is a nice looking pillow you got here. Where’d you buy it?”

“I was out on patrol and found it in a sale.” Rael’s chest puffed at his accomplishment. “The store staff said it’s a memory pillow. And it’s the last piece.”

Tao deflated at that. “Aw, bummer, I was gonna buy one for me.”

Takeo came pushing a food trolley and announced, “Seira and Regis prepared something good.”

M-21 remembered the last meal he had was when he gave a burger to Kentas. No doubt, Ignes was sorely lacking in hospitality.

“We’re heading to Ye Ran now,” Seira declared on behalf of everyone.

“See you later,” M-21 responded, Regis’ intense stare not escaping his notice.

“This time I will not get a mere passing grade on that subject,” Regis promised.

M-21 smirked back. “I expect nothing less from you.”

Tao uncovered the bowl with M-21’s name once everybody left, and the scent of chicken soup wafted in the air. The eager look on M-21’s face made him smile. “I think breakfast is in order.”

Which turned out to be easier said than done because M-21 could barely hold his hand up, much less feed himself. It only lasted for a split second, yet Tao did not miss his disappointed pout.

“Now don’t be hard on yourself, you just woke up after all.” Tao ladled out some of the soup into a smaller bowl and stirred it with a spoon.

“Boss figured those bastards probably didn’t feed you anything and you’ve been asleep for quite some time so we oughta start off with something light.” Tao took hold of the bowl in one hand. “And I’m supposed to help you with this sort of thing—”

“You’re not going to say or do something ridiculous?” M-21 had to make sure for his sanity.

“I have a self-imposed ban on strange ideas,” Tao replied then winked impishly. “So, nope, nothing about airplanes, I swear.”

In the lab, Frankenstein was immersed in organizing his tasks. Tests and data required careful study. Samples must be processed. Medications had to be formulated—

“Are your tasks so urgent you cannot spare time for rest?” Raizel finally asked after watching him in silence for the last several minutes.

Frankenstein paused and offered what he thought was a reassuring but was actually a thin smile. “I can still last a few more hours, Master.”

Raizel beheld Frankenstein’s weary countenance. “Just because you can does not mean that you should,” he echoed an adage he heard from Takeo not long ago. “M-21 is not in immediate danger, correct?”

At Frankenstein’s confirmatory nod Raizel continued, “I know there is much to do, but you need to take a break.”

The dull pain at the back of Frankenstein’s head spiked for a moment, an affirmation he was in need of a respite. He sighed in defeat and did not put up a resistance when he was shepherded out of the lab. Raizel clasped his shoulder just as the elevator arrived.

“You did well. We would have lost M-21 if not for you.”

A hint of trepidation slipped into their Link before Frankenstein cut off the connection.

Raizel contemplated Frankenstein’s reaction while making his way back to M-21 and Tao. Frankenstein had not been forthcoming about some details on M-21’s status, that much he knew. However, there was an appropriate time and place for that conversation. Right now, the soundest course of action would be to let Frankenstein have his well-earned rest.

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M-21 spent most of the day sleeping. And he could not apologize enough for it.

“You’re tired. You rest when you’re tired. Sleep is a great form of rest,” Tao justified not for the first time. “And we’re not here for you to entertain.”

Raizel hummed in agreement while patting M-21’s IV-free left hand.

M-21 assumed dinner would be a quiet affair with just Takeo to keep him company. At least he would not be much of a bother now he could already eat on his own. Besides, the others would probably drop by after they were done having dinner.

Regis and Seira came with food, and right behind them were Tao, Karias and Rael with a long folding table and a trolley of chinaware, glasses and cutlery. Dinner was set within minutes. Raizel and Frankenstein made their appearance not long after.

Seira arranged M-21’s overbed table and deposited a steaming bowl of vegetable soup on it. Meanwhile, Frankenstein finished serving Raizel his ramyeon.

Raizel surveyed everyone and satisfied with what he saw remarked, “It has been so long since we all had dinner together.” There were nods and sounds of agreement from the table.

M-21 sat there in stunned silence.

Frankenstein caught his dumbfounded expression. “M-21, that soup’s best eaten while hot.”

Seira paused with unfolding her napkin, her attention shifting to M-21. “Is there something wrong with the food?”

Takeo was already moving from his seat. “Do you need help?”

“No, it’s fine.” M-21 ignored the lump in his throat. “The food’s fine. I’m fine.” He grasped the spoon laid out for him. “I’m fine so let’s eat.”

No one made a comment on how shaky his voice was.

After dinner, M-21 got ready for bed with Takeo’s aid while the others tidied up. Then he opted to sit and lean on the overbed table seeing he had no intention of sleeping anytime soon.

Seira and Regis returned with their books and writing materials. Raizel also arrived with Tao carrying his school items. Earlier, Regis and Seira admitted they still needed to go over some subjects when M-21 asked how prepared they were for their exams. Raizel likewise let it slip that he was yet to do any studying.

“Are you sure we can do this here?” Regis confirmed as soon as he set his things on the round four-seater table a few steps away from the foot of M-21’s bed. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“It’s early and I’ve been resting almost all day,” M-21 said. “Don’t mind me.”

The Nobles decided to review on their own first for other subjects then go over their math lessons as a group afterwards. Tao and Takeo, and to some extent M-21, offered their assistance.

The individual study session finished an hour later. Tao cracked open a math workbook and read one of the algebra problems aloud for Raizel, Seira and Regis to solve.

“The answer’s twenty-eight.” M-21 realized his slip-up as soon as the words left his mouth. “Oops.”

Takeo flipped through the pages of another workbook until he found the answer key at the back. “Yeah, that’s correct.”

“As to why that’s the right answer…” Tao and everyone else waited for M-21 to explain, the Nobles even had their pens ready to jot down the solution. They only received a tired blink in reply.

“Well, that’s for you to find out,” Takeo concluded and snapped the workbook closed.

“Let’s see.” Tao scanned the workbook in his hand. “Maybe you can also answer the rest of the problems on page eighteen?”

M-21 dropped his chin on his arms and observed Seira, Regis and Raizel work with a tenacity fit for their worst enemies. The sounds of pens gliding on paper and pages turning were soothing to his ears.

“Then M-21 can help check your answers after you’re done. Right, M?” Tao set his sight on M-21. “Okaay, on second thought, maybe not…”

The others looked towards M-21 and found him already asleep on the overbed table.

“M-21, you’re going to hurt your back sleeping like that,” Takeo warned. There was no reaction. He was about to walk over when M-21 stirred and raised his head.

“I’m awake, I just closed my eyes a bit.” M-21’s bleary mien made his claim quite unconvincing.

Takeo came to M-21’s bedside and guided him so he was reclining on the bed. “Okay, but you should lie down now.”

“I heard something about checking answers.” M-21 held the edge of his blanket after Takeo draped it on him.

Tao waved him off. “Never mind that, you should go ahead and sleep.”

“Or I can wait for you to finish.” M-21 pulled the blanket down and made himself more alert.

There were glances exchanged among the household and a silent consensus to let M-21 have his way.

Takeo stayed close by and witnessed how hard M-21 fought to remain awake. He stepped in after M-21 roused from nodding off for the fourth time. “That’s enough, M-21, you should really go to sleep—”

“I don’t want to sleep,” M-21 replied then corrected, “I can’t sleep, I’m not supposed to sleep.”

Raizel and the others broke off from their task, sensing they were not talking about checking answers anymore.

“What do you mean?” Takeo kept his voice level and demeanor calm. “Is there a problem? Are you not feeling well?” He laid a palm on M-21’s forehead to check if he was coming down again with a fever, only to find he was cool to the touch.

M-21 spoke not a single word. The fear that began to suffuse his features was loud enough.

“Come on, M, you gotta tell us what’s wrong,” Tao persuaded. They all gathered around M-21’s bed. “We have to know so we can help—”

“What if this is just a very elaborate dream I cooked up and sleeping means I’ll wake and find myself still with the werewolves?” M-21 curled his hands on the blanket. “I got lucky before, but what if next time…” He struggled to keep from trembling. “No, I’d rather stay asleep and be here—”

Raizel closed the distance and enveloped M-21’s right hand with his left hand. “M-21, look at me, please.”

M-21 did as asked, and Raizel was almost overwhelmed by how painfully young and afraid he was.

Raizel held M-21’s gaze and attested with quiet conviction, “You are home and you are safe.”

M-21 continued to stare. Raizel wanted to assure him all the more that he was now out of harm’s way. “This is not a dream.” His grip on M-21 grew a little tighter. “You are home.”

After what seemed to be forever, M-21 blinked and dropped his eyes. The hand warmed by Raizel’s touch looked so interesting. “I’m sorry I got scared over nothing.”

“If it frightens you this much then it is something.” Raizel squeezed M-21’s hand a little, coaxing him to let go of the blanket. Once M-21 slackened his hold, Raizel pulled the blanket to his chest and made sure he was snug under it.

“Sorry I doubted you,” M-21 whispered.

“There is no need to apologize.” Raizel caressed M-21 on the head to brush his hair. “It is not even an entire day since you woke up. You are still healing. We will just have to make you remember should you ever get confused again.”

M-21 meant to point out that Raizel was in a rather talkative mood, but his mind kept coming back to how the hand running through his hair was firm and gentle all at once. It further anchored him, drew him into the moment and the truth it represented.

“Sleep, M-21,” Raizel encouraged. “Tomorrow when you wake up, you will still be here. Home and safe.”

M-21 gave in at last to the exhaustion that seemed to have settled deep in his bones. Just as he was about to slip into oblivion, a stray thought came to him—or a memory perhaps—of someone reminding him there were people who care for him very much.

Frankenstein was so engrossed with work and nearly lost track of time if not for the alarm on his phone. His hurried pace slowed as he moved closer to M-21’s room. After relaxing his shoulders and checking his hair did not resemble a bird’s nest, Frankenstein opened the door only to be met by a melancholic atmosphere.

That was strange. Dinner ended on an optimistic note and the study session should have progressed without a hitch as well. Though the way everyone sat close around M-21 as if to shield him from an unseen enemy, schoolwork forgotten…

I will explain later, he deciphered as his questioning gaze connected with Raizel’s.

Frankenstein took extra care in examining M-21 so as not to disturb his slumber, and was pleased to find he showed no signs of relapse.

“Alright, you know the drill, visiting hours are over,” Frankenstein declared while collecting Raizel’s things. “Takeo, Seira—”

“Boss,” Tao cut in, “can’t we stay here for the night?”

“Tao,” Raizel spoke up, “it has been a long day. You and Regis should get some sleep.” For a final time he stroked M-21’s hair then walked away from his bedside.

“But…” Tao’s eyes sought help from the other RK members.

There was an imperceptible shake of Seira’s head along with Regis’ resigned expression. Takeo was apologetic yet stayed mum.

“Right, it’s Seira and Takeo’s turn to stay tonight,” Tao conceded. “Sorry about that.”

Regis and Tao excused themselves once they reached the ground floor. Raizel sauntered into the living room and Frankenstein followed suit. Several moments passed as they stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows, watching the night march on until Raizel recounted the incident with M-21.

“I would like to have a word with you about him,” Raizel disclosed afterwards.

There was a subtle flinch then a nod of acquiescence from Frankenstein. “Of course, Master—”

“Tomorrow, that is.” Raizel turned to face Frankenstein. “As I said, it has been a long day. Yours might even be longer than ours.” He retrieved his books and papers then clasped Frankenstein on the arm, to the latter’s surprise.

“Knowledge is a heavy burden. I do not mind you sharing the burden with me.” Raizel withdrew from Frankenstein’s personal space. “I shall see you tomorrow. Rest for now.”

“Yes, Master.” Yet Frankenstein lingered there, listening until the sound of Raizel’s footsteps vanished. His sigh was loud the instant he was certain no one was there to hear.

Seems it’s time to let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Frankenstein sighed once more as he trudged his way to his room. Then so be it.

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M-21 was not sure what time it was, only that he should probably wake up right then.

So he cracked his eyes open and saw his bed was at an angle—

Wait, not his bed. The ceiling was not his either. M-21 sat up, rubbing the drowsiness away as he tried to recall why he was at the hospital wing. The one that was just blueprints and not an actual fully furnished room as far as he knew—

The memories crashed down like a ton of bricks and then some. And the more M-21 remembered, the more his face became unbearably hot.

Seira and Takeo were at the side observing M-21 stir and later grow red as the grogginess left him.

“Hey there”—Takeo flashed a reassuring smile at M-21— “good mor—”

M-21 threw a look at Takeo and Seira, blushed even harder before mumbling, “Excuse me, I need to get my feelings in order.” He laid down again, dragging his blanket over his head as he did so.

Takeo regained enough wits to reply, “Ah, sure, take your time.”

What the hell did I just say? M-21 groaned inwardly. His brain-to-mouth filter was definitely still not up and running this early in the day, but damn this was a little too much.

You’re an adult, quit acting like a big baby, M-21 scolded. He drew deep, calming breaths and counted to ten and back in his head.

“You okay in there, M?” Takeo queried.

A minute passed, then another. Two hands snuck out from under the blanket and peeled it down until M-21 was back in view.

“I said some weird things last night, didn’t I?” He sported a rosy tinge on his cheeks and refused to set his gaze on Takeo and Seira.

So that was it. Takeo met Seira’s eyes. “Something weird? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Seira caught on fast. “I recall nothing of the sort either.”

M-21 did not budge, though it seemed his flush was already receding.

“So, as I was saying, good morning,” Takeo repeated. Seira echoed a quiet greeting as well.

M-21 peeked at the pair. “Good morning.” Then he was up and moving to leave the bed because he wanted to go to the bathroom. Takeo was by his side in an instant.

“I think I can manage.” M-21 got to his feet. The absurd amount of rest he had yesterday proved useful since his legs were no longer doing an impersonation of a jelly. He released his grip on the bed’s side rail and did not lose balance when he stepped forward. “Yeah, I can do this.”

Nevertheless, Seira and Takeo were within arm’s reach. M-21 eventually made it to the bathroom without incident. It was probably not even thirty steps, yet it was as if he won a prize to kick Crombel where it hurt. Takeo and Seira clapping at his small victory only cemented the notion.

M-21 freshened up and concluded his routine with another splash of cold water on his face. That ought to reduce the chances of him making a scene again. Outside, there was muffled conversation. He finished toweling off and exited the area.

Takeo and Seira ended their report at the sound of the bathroom doorknob turning. M-21 emerged and froze in his tracks.

“Good morning, M-21,” Raizel said. Apparently, M-21 was quite self-conscious about what happened the previous night, so he and Frankenstein agreed it was to M-21’s best interest that everybody carry on as normal.

M-21 resisted the urge to go back where he came from. Mustering all his confidence he responded, “Good morning.” His ears were burning, though.

“Need help?” Frankenstein asked.

M-21 shook his head. “I got here on my own, I can get back there too.” And did just that to prove his point.

“Good work.” Frankenstein was beaming as he handed M-21 a small plastic cup once he was seated on the bed. At M-21’s probing look he explained, “You’re supposed to take that at this time.”

M-21 spared a few seconds to watch a blue softgel capsule roll inside the cup as he tilted it from side to side. Finally, he popped the capsule in his mouth and drank the glass of water Frankenstein provided.

The rest of the household paid their visit and came by again prior to leaving for Ye Ran.

Raizel and Frankenstein joined Takeo and M-21 for breakfast later that morning. Takeo just dried the last of the dishes they used when Frankenstein announced M-21 would be undergoing a check-up at the lab.

“Might as well be on my way.” M-21 shed his blanket and dangled his legs off the bed. Given the distance and how sluggish he was, it would take him a while to turn up at the main lab.

“Hold that thought” —Frankenstein did not bother hiding how appalled he was by the idea— “who said you’re going to walk your way there?” He instructed Takeo to bring M-21 to the lab in half an hour then set off to make preparations. Raizel silently trailed after him.

The thirty-minute mark soon drew close. “It’s almost time for your appointment. Wait here.” Takeo left the room and returned with a wheelchair.

“Your carriage has arrived, Sir,” was his solemn declaration that had M-21 snort in amusement.

Once he confirmed M-21 was secure in the wheelchair Takeo disclosed, “I don’t think I’ve ever handled one of these.”

M-21 looked at him dead in the eye.

Takeo smiled as confidently as possible. “But I did practice runs so we’re all set.”

“Just don’t go be a speed demon on me. Wait” —M-21 started turning this way and that— “does this thing have a seatbelt?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Takeo fake scowled at M-21. “And what do you take me for, a reckless driver?” Walking to the back, he held the wheelchair handles and gave a slight push. “Ready? Let’s head out, shall we?”

M-21’s grip on the armrests was tight as he braced himself.

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“—I didn’t take you for a reckless passenger.” Were the words Frankenstein and Raizel heard the moment the main lab’s automatic door swished open to grant Takeo and M-21 entry.

“Of course not, you were going way below the speed limit.” M-21’s answer had a rare, playful undertone to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know there’s a minimum speed required for wheelchair pushing,” Takeo quipped back.

“Maybe I should do the driving next time—”

Frankenstein cleared his throat and the pair ceased with their banter.

“We’re not late, are we?” M-21 inquired.

“You’re just in time.” Frankenstein tapped the examination table at his side. “Come, I need to get your vital signs before I do your scans.”

The check-up was over in less than an hour. Frankenstein gathered the printouts he made and compared them to the ones in M-21’s file. He even opened several documents on his computer and looked over those as well.

In the meantime, M-21 sat waiting on the examination table. His file was not that thick, he pretty was sure of it. But then again, his stay in the Werewolf Island was no picnic and not painless. M-21 drew his eyes off Frankenstein and let them roam around the lab.

Nothing was out of place. The room was spotless and—was that a crack on the ceiling? M-21 squinted a bit. It seemed part of the ceiling a few paces from where they were got chipped off after something hit it with great force.

There was a nudge on his arm, pulling M-21 from further contemplating on what caused the ceiling to sustain such damage.

Takeo, sitting to M-21’s left, nudged him with his elbow a second time and murmured, “You okay?”

Raizel was likewise gazing at M-21 with concern from his seat across them.

It was then M-21 noticed he had been fiddling with a button on his cardigan all the while. Anymore and he could have ripped it off.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I guess.” He smoothed the cardigan’s front and rested his right hand down the table.

Takeo shifted a little, close enough for M-21 to lean on his shoulder if he wanted to.

“Alright.” Frankenstein brought the clipboard with the latest printouts as he strode over to M-21. “Two things. One, you haven’t suffered a relapse, which is good.”

A relapse from what? However, it appeared Frankenstein was still not inclined to offer information and did not further elaborate his statement. M-21 restrained a huff. “And the other thing?”

“You’re well enough to be discharged, but under certain conditions.” Frankenstein hoped this news was enough to appease M-21 for the moment. He mentioned the conditions, emphasizing they must be strictly adhered to. “How are you feeling now?”

Very confused, M-21 was close to blurting out. Instead, he did a brief assessment and reported, “A little tired, a little cold, a little sore and in dire need of a bath.”

A long soak in the bath would really be useful right now, what with all the things he needed to ponder on. Alas, M-21’s hopes were dashed after Frankenstein said he could only take a fifteen-minute shower at the most.

“One more thing and we’re done.” Frankenstein entered the drug storeroom and came out with a plastic cup. He also made a quick stop at the refrigerator just outside the storeroom and grabbed a bottle of water. “Here you go.” Frankenstein held them out to M-21.

M-21 accepted the proffered items. Inside the cup was an oblong, light orange pill. “And this is?”

“You’re supposed to take that after breakfast.”

Again, with the vague answer. M-21 stared long and hard at Frankenstein, who merely flashed another calming smile. He bit back his exasperated sigh and downed the pill.

“And with that you’re free to go.” Frankenstein wrote something on the papers on his clipboard while M-21 transferred to his wheelchair. “Don’t forget what I told you. I’ll come by later to check on you, alright?”

Takeo was maneuvering the wheelchair to the door when M-21 requested that he pause.

“Oh, by the way…” M-21 began.

Frankenstein would never admit even under duress how his blood ran cold at M-21’s nonchalant yet foreboding tone.

M-21 extended his left pointer finger in the direction of the ceiling right above them, compelling Raizel, Takeo and Frankenstein to raise their eyes as well. “What happened to the ceiling?”

The three just about did a collective wince at not spotting earlier that the ceiling was damaged.

“A minor accident,” was Frankenstein’s unruffled response. “I’m sure it won’t jeopardize the lab’s structural integrity, but we’ll do an inspection to be on the safe side.” He motioned for Takeo to move along. “Now off you go, you still need to pack.”

The last thing Raizel and Frankenstein heard as the door was closing was M-21 worrying they might take too long to pack, and Takeo guaranteeing they would not.

The smile disappeared from Frankenstein’s face. He removed the printouts from the clipboard and retrieved M-21’s folder to add them there, only to find there was no more space. Rummaging in his supply cabinet, he obtained a new folder and filed the printouts page by page. After that, he organized the files in his computer and tidied around the lab. He even dedicated several minutes to examining the ceiling.

Raizel could have called out Frankenstein for dawdling, but chose to wait until he was no longer occupied with his tasks.

To say Frankenstein was stalling would not be a lie. And his excuses were running out fast. Casting a look at the security monitor, he caught sight of M-21 and Takeo as they were boarding the elevator.

And there went his last excuse. Frankenstein pressed one of the buttons on the console to activate the door’s lock mechanism.

Had he been a lesser man he would have poured himself a stiff drink to get through with what he was about to do. But Frankenstein was no such person, so he sat on his chair with all the grace of one carrying too heavy a burden.

Then he proceeded to let the proverbial cat out of the bag.

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“Can you remind me again why the elevator’s just up to the ground floor?” Takeo requested. They were staring at the seemingly endless flight of stairs that would take them to the second floor.

“Because normal houses aren’t supposed to have elevators?” M-21 replied.

“Guess there’s no helping it.” Takeo slipped off the duffle bag slung on his back and deposited it on the floor by the stairs. Digging in his pants pocket, he pulled out a black ribbon and gathered his ponytail into a bun atop his head. Takeo gestured for M-21 to hand over his pillow and it joined the duffle bag.

M-21, catching drift of what Takeo had in mind, locked the brake on the wheelchair and stood. To his astonishment, Takeo knelt with his back towards him.

“Hop on.”

“You’re kidding, right?” M-21 could not decide whether he was mortified or fascinated by the offer. Not once did M-24 make an attempt at something like this when he was alive.

“It’s this or I’m helping with your shower—” Takeo felt M-21’s arms go around his shoulders. The rest of M-21’s weight transferred to his back.

“Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“Okay, just give me a minute.” Takeo interlocked his fingers under M-21’s legs and carefully rose to his full height. The urge to sock a certain Noble in the face came over him all of a sudden. Someone of M-21’s build and stature should not weigh this little. Shoving the feeling aside, Takeo plastered a smile and in a cheerful voice announced, “This noble steed will take you to your bedchamber at your behest, Sir.”

“What,” M-21 asked between chuckles, “am I supposed to say ‘giddy-up’ or something?”

“Aha, there’s my cue.” Takeo started climbing the stairs and reached the second floor in no time. He continued down the hallway to their left after adjusting his hold on M-21. “How’s the view up there?”

“It’s not so bad.” Some escaped strands from Takeo’s messy hair bun were tickling M-21 on the cheek. “I get to be taller than you just this once. There’s just a lot of magenta.” This back-riding business was not bad M-21 had to acknowledge, but he was nowhere near the size of Regis and not that light. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t fine with it.” Takeo smiled again for M-21, vowing never to breathe a word that no, carrying him was not so hard now because he probably had the same weight as Tao or at worse Rael. “We’re here.”

They entered another hallway a moment ago and were approaching the nearest of the four doors there. Takeo lowered to a crouch to allow M-21 to alight then moved to the side.

M-21 blinked at the door and tried to recall what state he left his room in. Should he and Takeo go inside? The place must be covered by a layer of dust with how long he was gone.

“Trust me, the door won’t bite you,” Takeo opined as he unbound the ribbon in his hair.

Well then, they would just have to do a bit of cleaning. M-21 grasped the doorknob and pushed, the door giving way with nary a sound. Stepping further inside, he held his breath against the dust and musty odor he was expecting.

Sunlight shone through the open window. The curtains swaying in the breeze were different from what he remembered, as were his sheets, pillowcases and blanket. M-21 headed to the oak desk beside the window, trailed a finger on its surface and confirmed it was free of dust. The bottle of home-made reed diffuser on the mini cabinet on top of the desk had been replenished, spreading a touch of lavender scent in the space.

M-21 blinked again, the idea someone found time to clean his room finally sinking in. “Who?”

“Definitely not me.” It was a story Takeo would rather leave for the concerned person to tell. “Maybe the Cleaning Fairy did it,” he added in jest before exiting the room.

“Yeah, right, and maybe the Tooth Fairy’s real,” M-21 retorted as he stripped off his cardigan to hang it on the back of his desk swivel chair. After that, he walked over to his bed and sat down—

—and straight away regretted it, as the desire to roll around while wrapped in his blanket invaded his thoughts like that earworm of a song Tao kept singing a few weeks ago.

What. The. Hell. He needed that shower, stat, or else he would next be thinking about bouncing on the b—

M-21 was the picture of calm as he got up and made a beeline for the walk-in closet section of the bathroom. Apparently, they had a Laundry Fairy as well, if the vacant laundry hamper by the corner was an indication.

Takeo returned from downstairs and emptied the duffle bag of various articles of clothing to stow them in the cabinets. M-21 finished assembling his change of clothes and found Takeo puttering around in the wash area arranging toiletries on the sink.

“I’m going to have my shower now,” M-21 clarified to avoid any misunderstanding.

“Okay.” Takeo took long strides to the shower enclosure at the other end of the room and waited outside.

M-21 was positive his ears were turning red. Was Takeo serious about helping him shower? “Alone? As in all by myself—”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Takeo slid open the enclosure’s door to check if everything was in order before going on his way out at last. Sticking his head around the bathroom door he told M-21, “I won’t lock this so just holler if you need anything.”

“Right, just don’t come barging in,” M-21 reminded just in case. He did a loud exhale once the door closed behind Takeo. Seriously, sometimes the guy was too helpful for his own good.

M-21 stepped under the shower, letting the warm cascade of water soothe and invigorate him. He set about laying down the facts he gathered so far.

For one, people were acting a little unusual, though not in a bad sort of way. They were kinder, more tolerant.

If the fray with the werewolves occurred when he was still part of the Union he would have been left for dead, useless throwaway he was to them.

And these people he was currently with, who he thought were only housemates, went out of their way to rescue him. Like he was someone worth all the trouble. Like he was someone important.

Maybe this was what it meant to be part of a family.

The water was definitely not the reason why his face was scalding now.

And then there was Frankenstein. M-21 sobered at the man’s confounding behavior of late.

Frankenstein usually made time to explain things to him without being prompted. Heck, he even asked for M-21’s consent and opinion. This norm was a far cry from the Union’s modus operandi of doing whatever the hell they wanted because M-21 and his comrades were trash and therefore not entitled to anything.

Maybe Frankenstein was too busy to talk. Maybe he needed more information and was waiting until he had everything so he could tell M-21 in one go. Maybe he deemed M-21 not ready.

M-21 raised a hand. Could it be there was still something wrong with him? He was telling the truth when he said he was a little tired, sore and cold. These complaints aside, he felt fine. Although his fingers and wrist did seem a little too thin upon closer inspection.

Anyone who was out of commission for an entire week would be the same, right?

So maybe there was nothing to worry about and he was just overthinking.

If that’s the case then why won’t Frankenstein—

There were several knocks on the door, followed by Takeo telling him he only had seven minutes to go.

M-21 puffed out a breath before running his hands through his hair to start rinsing off.

What to do, what to do…

For now, he would let the unusual treatment from everyone else slide seeing it mostly involved harmless acts. Unless someone decided to outclass Rael’s odd gift giving stunt. M-21’s eyes grew wide then he caught himself and dismissed the idea. No one would absolutely try to kiss him. Why would anyone even want to do that in the first place?

Okay, time to stop with the weird, off tangent thoughts. M-21 ended his shower and left the enclosure. The rest of the bathroom was a little chilly, so he toweled off and dressed as fast as he could in his typical attire of a white T-shirt and black pants.

What about Frankenstein? M-21 draped a towel on his head, rubbing his hair with one hand while he retrieved his dirty clothes from the basket where he placed them. After dropping the clothes in the laundry hamper, he moved to the bench in the middle of the walk-in closet to resume working on his hair and his options.

He could try asking the others. But if Frankenstein covered his bases, which he probably did if he was this tight-lipped, then they were most likely instructed not to tell him anything.

Waiting was his best choice. Frankenstein probably had reasons for not yet giving him a proper explanation. Besides, it was still early. Maybe he would tell M-21 later in the day.

After all, M-21 had the right to know what was going on with him.

Or maybe he did not and he was too demanding—

M-21 gave his hair a too vigorous rub. This was not the Union—

Two knocks on the door. “M, are you done?” Takeo called out from the other side. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” M-21 sighed and dropped his arms, already worn out from holding them up for a quite some time. It was in this state that Takeo found him.

A worried expression crossed Takeo’s face. “What’s wrong?” Already he was checking M-21 for signs of illness or injury.

“Nothing much, just my arms deciding to quit a job midway,” was the rueful answer from M-21.

Takeo removed the towel on M-21’s head. “Your hair’s still dripping. Let me.” He commenced gently patting M-21’s hair and once satisfied it was dry enough inquired, “Think you can tolerate a little bit of noise?”

“Probably,” M-21 answered. “My ears aren’t sensitive anymore. Why?”

“Be right back.” Takeo laid the towel next to M-21 then hurried off. He returned soon after wielding a hair dryer that he plugged into the power outlet on the floor beside the bench.

“Uh, where did that come from?” M-21 stared at the hair dryer in Takeo’s hand like it was some kind of alien contraption for torture purposes.

“It’s mine, why do you look so surprised?” Switching on the device Takeo explained, “This doesn’t make so much noise like the others and it’ll dry your hair really quick. Want to give it a try?”

M-21 had his misgivings but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was Takeo would not subject him to needless pain. “Okay.”

That and he could just add this to the growing list of novel experiences he had been having so far.

“Don’t worry, this won’t hurt at all. But” —Takeo paused for emphasis— “do tell me if it gets uncomfortable, okay?” He adjusted the hair dryer’s setting to medium before raking his fingers through a section of M-21’s locks and raising it to begin his task.

And as promised, the procedure ended in a few minutes. Takeo kept moving M-21’s hair this way and that, nonetheless.

Finally figuring out what he was doing, M-21 pointed out, “I have a comb, you know.”

Takeo beamed at M-21. “It’s fine. Your hair’s manageable enough not to need one.” That aside, he was mulling over if telling M-21 his hair was ridiculously soft would count as offensive.

“And we’re done,” Takeo announced after deftly arranging said hair into its usual side swept style. Then he disappeared into the bath area to hang M-21’s towel on the heated towel rail mounted on the wall.

Meanwhile, M-21 drew near the sink and studied his reflection on the mirror. The person who gazed back had dark circles under his eyes and a rather pasty complexion.

Yup, definitely looked the part of someone who’d gone through the wringer.

Takeo showed up and clapped M-21 on the shoulders. “See, no need for a comb to fix your hair. Now come on” —he made M-21 face left and started to mock push him towards the open door— “you’re supposed to be on bed rest.”

“Alright, I’m going already.” M-21 allowed himself to be led and crossed the threshold to his bedroom.

No sooner than he released M-21 that a chill swept through Takeo, freezing him where he stood—

“Don’t hold him down.” Frankenstein ordered.

Takeo let go.

Blood was everywhere. On his shirt. The operating table. On the floor.

M-21 kept bleeding even as he was racked with seizures.

Then he went still.

A shrill beep filled the room.

Takeo bit the inside of his cheek—

—and reeled from the onslaught. He gripped the doorframe to get his bearings and drove the memory far away into the dark recesses of his mind. Takeo somehow quietly shut the door after him, eyes going frantic in his search until he found his target.

M-21, standing in front of the window, had his back to him and appeared to be holding something aloft.

He’s right there. Takeo could feel his nerves steadying at the sight as he moved closer.

M-21 lifted his cardigan, gave it a shake before slipping it on. The garment was an instant source of warmth and he made a mental note to consider buying a spare once he was allowed to leave the house.

And very much alive. Takeo let out a slow, inaudible breath. He reached out with his left hand—

M-21 finished buttoning the cardigan and began running his hands down the sleeves to straighten them, wondering why Tao designed them in a way that only his fingers were visible if he did not fold over the cuffs at least once. Not that he minded since his hands would get warm too—

Something dropped on M-21’s head and started mussing his hair. M-21 pressed his lips into a thin line as he turned to scowl at the culprit.

The somewhat annoyed expression M-21 wore almost had Takeo bursting into laughter. To his delight, there was even a pout thrown in the mix. He ruffled M-21’s tresses once more before restoring them to their proper arrangement.

“There, there, it’s already fixed so don’t get mad, okay?” Takeo was very grateful his voice did not tremble in the slightest. Turning away from the window, he went over to M-21’s bed and peeled back the comforter.

“Now, I really hate to burst your bubble, but bed rest involves actually getting in bed.” Takeo stopped as a thought occurred to him. “Unless you need me to—”

M-21 raised a hand. “Don’t finish that sentence.” Call him paranoid, but he had a hunch Takeo was planning to carry him like some princess in distress. “I’m perfectly capable of getting myself there.”

He padded the rest of the way and plopped down the bed. After stretching his legs out M-21 asked, “I don’t have to lie down for this right?”

“I think lying back’s good enough.” Takeo stacked three pillows against the headboard and completed the pile by adding the one from Rael on top. “Here you go.”

M-21 scooted backwards and settled on the pillows, his gaze following Takeo’s movements as he pulled the comforter into place.

“Is there a problem?” The question was very hypocritical coming from him, and Takeo could only hope his momentary shift in disposition would go unnoticed.

“That’s my line.” It was fleeting, but M-21 was certain Takeo’s haunted eyes were not a figment of his imagination. How could he fail to recognize the visage he and his comrades wore more often than not?

Takeo deposited the pillow he set aside on M-21’s lap and sat on the mattress, angling slightly so he was facing him.

“I’ve never been better.” A smile sprang from Takeo’s lips, small yet sincere. He flattened a rumple on the blanket and kept running his hand over the spot even though it was already smooth. “But there is a small…favor I’d like to ask.”

M-21 tilted his head to the side. A favor? “Go on.”

Takeo gathered his thoughts for a few seconds then got down to it in the most benign tone he could manage. “I know it’s part and parcel of our lifestyle, but can you please try not to scare us too much?”

M-21 jerked back. “Excuse me?”

Dead set on getting his point across Takeo continued, “What I’m trying to say is if you feel like you’re about to pass out, give us some kind of signal so we can do something.”

There were quite a few reasons why M-21 acted the way he did at the Werewolf Island. Now they seemed trivial against the fact he caused people undue worry. So he kept the words to himself.

“I’m not telling you this because I’m mad.” Takeo hastened to add at M-21’s downcast eyes. “I don’t think anyone is. We’re just worried—”

M-21 flinched and reflexively pinned his arms against his stomach.

“—and that’s part of the territory.” Casting aside the sinking feeling in his heart, Takeo began to pat the area on the blanket where M-21’s knee was. “We’re supposed to be concerned about you.”

Why was it so hard for M-21 to believe there were people outside of the M-Series who also care for him?

M-21 raised his eyes and met Takeo’s earnest stare. “I…I’m really not sure if I can make that kind of promise.”

“The operative word is ‘try’.” Takeo reached further so he was now patting M-21 on the head. “Tao said it last night and I think it’s worth repeating. You have to tell us if there’s a problem so we can help. Because we might miss the signs and it might be too late.”

“And if I have to carry you around on my back then I will.” Takeo meant every word of it.

“Okay, I’ll try,” M-21 agreed at last. It was a really small thing considering all the trouble he already caused.

“Great, then we have ourselves a deal.” Takeo was almost tempted to pull M-21 in a headlock so he could ruffle his hair again. Maybe he would do it once M-21 was fully recovered.

There was a lull in conversation, so Takeo took the chance to grab M-21’s swivel chair and bring it by the bed. He remembered something just as he sank down the cushion. “By the way, your editor called last Monday.”

The news had M-21’s wandering mind come to a screeching halt, only for it to begin racing as he scrambled to recall his progress on a certain task.

“Now calm down, I already explained things to her so you don’t have to worry about your deadline,” Takeo said before M-21 could go into full panic mode. “Told me you should just focus on getting well.”

That M-21 had been moonlighting as a writer for an online magazine for about eight weeks now was one of three things only Takeo and Tao had the privilege of knowing.

M-21 sagged against the pillows at hearing he was granted a reprieve. “Okay, but I should at least send an email—”

“Nah-ah, Boss said no gadgets for you. Bed rest, remember?” Takeo stood his ground despite the frown that appeared on M-21’s face. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at M-21 like he was sizing him up.

“So…apparently you’re writing for that magazine Tao likes to read.” M-21 had yet to reveal exactly what sort of writing he did and for whom. Having his name listed as M-21’s emergency contact person had its perks.

“What a coincidence.” M-21 just deadpanned. What the hell.

“Too bad you guys are using pen names.”

“That’s for security purposes. Wouldn’t want people coming over or sending stuff to houses,” M-21 stressed. Never mind there was not a snowball’s chance in hell of those happening to a newbie like him.

“And there’s this writer he’s been following. He’ll probably ask if you know that person’s real name.” Takeo gave the pen name Tao mentioned.

M-21 kept his expression neutral. “I’m not allowed to say. We have a non-disclosure clause.”

And there was nothing to tell because he did not know his real name either.

“Right.” Takeo folded his hands on his lap or else he would be ruffling M-21’s hair again. “Anyway, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks. So, about that email—”

Takeo leveled a look of reproach at M-21. “What part of ‘No’ didn’t you understand? You’re supposed to be resting, you can do something else that’s not tiring or stressful.”

“Fine, I’ll just do some light reading.” M-21 faced forward and squinted at the contents of the floor to ceiling bookshelf on the other side of the room.

“So, what will it be?” Takeo was already out of his seat and standing beside the bookshelf.

“The one at the leftmost corner, third shelf.”

The book Takeo extracted from said location was rather hefty. “I don’t think ‘War and Peace’ is light reading, M. And I mean that in the figurative and literal sense.” He rapped on the hardbound’s front cover.

“You hit someone over the head with this and that person will end up with a concussion. Sorry, but I’m going to veto you on this one.” Takeo returned the book and with a hand on his chin inspected the rest of M-21’s collection.

“You’re really building yourself a library here.” He started running a finger along the spines of each book. “Hugo isn’t light reading, either. And you only have ‘Macbeth’ from Shakespeare. Now’s not a good time for Poe as well. Ah, here’s one.” Takeo pulled out a paperback and held it for M-21 to see. “’Aesop’s Fables’.”

“I read that three times already.”

“Oh, okay.” The book was stowed again and Takeo went on with his hunt until a red and black tome made him pause.

“What do we have here?” His brows wrinkled as he recited, “’Grimm’s Fairy Tales’? Just the name already sounds stressful.”

M-21 was shaking his head. “I didn’t know ‘Cinderella’ could be so morbid until I read that.”

“Then it’s definitely a ‘no’ for this one.” Takeo crouched so he could check the lower shelves. A title near the middle of the second shelf caught his attention.

“Wait a sec, is this a tankobon?” He took the item in question and skimmed through random pages. “Isn’t this about the kid with a fox demon?”

“Yeah,” M-21 replied, “but I don’t feel like reading about ninjas right now.”

“Nothing you want to read down here?” Takeo found another tankobon for a different title. “Not even this one about death gods in kimono?” He got out a third tankobon. “Or this story about an armored alchemist?”

At M-21’s negative response, Takeo straightened and zeroed in on the higher shelves. Something in the fourth shelf made him do a double take. “Whoa, you have ‘Genji Monogatari’?”

“I haven’t read that yet because my Kanji is atrocious.” M-21 said. “You can borrow that if you want.”

Takeo had a glow in his eyes as he laid hold of the first of the two volumes that comprised the book. “Are you sure? I mean, I’ll be the first to read this instead of you.”

“I’m sure. Just no spoilers, please. Can I have the fifth book from the right on the fourth shelf?” M-21 was looking forward to reading that one, but then Kentas and the rest of the werewolves and that crazy Ignes happened.

Takeo found and examined the book M-21 requested. “Hmm, a collection of Korean myths and legends. And it’s got illustrations, too. I guess this is safe.”

He went back to M-21’s bedside and placed the hardcover in his outstretched hands, which the latter began to read straight away. Takeo smiled to himself as he settled once more in his seat and opened his own book, likewise keen on immersing himself in a good read.

#Noblesse #Downtime Chapter 2 #The Lost Cub Series #the most self-indulgent I've written so far

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