Featuring: Fletcher Van Hall with mentions of Xavier Mitchell & several others
Location: En route from SF to NYC
Time Frame: Late afternoon/early evening, June 23, 2024
Notes: The happenings for Fletcher following the call he received from DJ.
Fletcher felt like he was having an out-of-body experience.
Previously, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner, knowing that Henry and Winter were in the backyard gardening with Drew while Phoebe napped. He'd seasoned a salmon to go on the grill and was preparing some couscous and green beans on the stove when the call came in from DJ.
"Hey D-"
"It's Xavier," she'd said, causing Fletcher to instantly tense, his focus zeroing in on whatever was going to come through the phone next.
"He's... it's a car accident."
Fletcher felt like in the span of a single heartbeat, his entire 6'1" frame filled with panic. Several thoughts flooded his mind another beat later.
"What happened? Is he okay?" he stupidly asked. Of fuckin' course he's not okay, dipshit, he scolded himself. He could hear it in DJ's voice that Xavier was not okay.
"I'm going to the hospital. I don't know which. I'll let you know when I get there." Just as he was about to repeat the second question, DJ said, "It's... it's not good, Fletcher."
"I'll be there as soon as I can. If you can, tell him that for me. Tell him the kids and I love him and... yeah." He couldn't form a clear-cut thought and even hearing DJ's promise that she'd tell him sounded like it was coming from under water.
When the call ended, he was trying to figure out what to do next.
I have to book a flight. I have to tell Henry, Winter and Drew. Would the kids come with me? Was Xavier in a state for any of them to see him? Should they have to deal with that? He's their dad, newly so. What even happened? What about Phoebe and Drew? I should call Emiliana. And Rodrigo. How long will I be gone? How can I drop everything and leave Phoebe and Drew? Maybe I should bring them too. How the hell am I going to tell the kids? Who fucking hurt Xavier of all people? How soon can I get a flight out? Can I swing it to get flights for the kids and himself? Fuck it, I have the funds. I'll use my credit card. I've got to. I'll worry about the rest later. Does Riley know? Does his family overseas know? Shit, I should've asked DJ. I should call them. But the flight needed to be booked. How soon can I get there? Goddammit, the grill's lit and everything on the stove's half-done. I need to get things squared away here first. But if I wait too long, flights out of here will pass us by and--
"Fletcher?"
The tat artist snapped out of his mental spiraling and looked up to see his uncle standing in the kitchen entrance. Fletcher noticed his fingers were lightly dusted with dirt as he leaned on his cane.
"What is it, son?" Drew asked, his expression immediately hardening with concern.
Fletcher's gaze darted all over the place like he was trying to chase the most linear response. "It's Xavier. There was a car accident. It's not... he's being taken to a hospital. I need to go to him but I don't know what the fuck to do."
He harshly pushed a hand through his hair, unlocking his phone screen and trying to figure out if he should search flights first or call Emiliana and Rodrigo first.
"You do know what to do," Drew pushed back, approaching his nephew. "Listen to me, Fletcher. You book the fastest flight there and get your ass to New York. Don't worry about the cost or that dumb shit. And I know I've got this stupid-ass disease but I'm not completely helpless, alright? I can make calls, and hold down the fort here."
Fletcher nodded and at his uncle's insistence, he took a deep breath and then got to searching for nonstop flights out of SFO. Eventually, plans were falling into place and movement was happening. He and Drew had the tough conversation with Henry and Winter to tell them what little was known about their dad's well-being at this time. Fletcher and Drew both comforted them and then helped them pack some of the clothes they had there at the Van Hall home. Drew had called Emiliana while Fletcher called Rodrigo and then Khamani, asking them both about taking turns coming by to give Emiliana relief and helping with Phoebe and Drew. The decision for both Drew and Phoebe to stay behind had been a difficult one for Fletcher but he'd been urged on by his uncle that it was for the best right now. On the way to the airport, he called Xavier's assistant and asked her to let whoever else needed to know what was going on.
In about 2 hours, he, Winter and Henry were on a plane, taking off for a nonstop flight to NYC. He'd sat in the middle seat, frequently glancing at both kids throughout the flight and doing his best to keep them calm and comforted. There was some small grace in Henry falling asleep mid-flight as he could imagine the mental and emotional exhaust taking its toll. Winter had been quiet but Fletcher was almost certain she was trying to maintain her resolve for her little brother's sake and possibly a default for her own self-preservation. He understood this all too well with his own thoughts still racing and hadn't pushed for her to let her guard down.
By the time they landed at La Guardia, Fletcher received the hospital info from DJ. He searched for the nearest hotel to the hospital and called ahead to one. While on the call, however, he received an incoming call from DJ. She'd told him that Xavier's friend, Salvador was putting them all up at a hotel located half a mile from the hospital. After thanking her, he gave the Lyft driver the address as an added stop. DJ texted the reservation information to him and he sent back a "Got it. Thanks," to her.
Some 15 minutes later, the driver pulled up as close to the curb as possible and turned on their hazard lights. While Winter and Henry grabbed their bags from the back of the vehicle, Fletcher told the driver they'd be back down in about 10 minutes. The driver looked a little annoyed and Fletcher narrowed his eyes. He waited for the kids to head into the lobby ahead of him before rounding on the driver.
"Listen, I dunno what kind of shitty night you're having but I promise you--I promise you it's nothing compared to what we're dealing with. If you can't wait 10 goddamn minutes for us to get checked in, drop their luggage off and come back so that they can see their dad in the fucking hospital then just tell me right goddamn now and I'll cancel the rest of the ride."
The driver looked affronted but nodded, "I'll wait."
"Good. We'll be back."
He opened the passenger door with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and intentionally slammed the door on his way to the lobby.
After a relatively seamless check-in and an elevator ride up to drop off the kids' belongings, the 3 returned outside. The Lyft driver was still there, somewhat surprising Fletcher. But the last part of their ride was extremely short, and if they were lucky, they wouldn't have to deal with this driver ever again.
After getting to the floor DJ instructed and finding her in the waiting room, he thanked her again in person for everything--the updates when possible and, he suspected she reached out to Salvador about the hotel accommodations. DJ reciprocated Henry and Winter's hugs and then all of them went to the nurse's station. They didn't have anything new to share since Fletcher and the kids landed, but the nurse said that he could, at the present, have 2 visitors at a time. Teeth grinding, Fletcher pushed for 3 without sharing a lot of detail on the kids' journey with the foster system and how important Xavier was to all of them. One of the nurses seemed to take pity or at the very least, sympathized and allowed the 3 of them to go in at once.
Triggers: References to the shooting, trauma and blood.
@annickxberthou
Cyrus had never before felt so numb, not even after losing his parents. He held onto Annick’s hand like a lifeline the entirety of the journey back to the Chateau. Tomorrow would be interviews with officials and dealing with the intrusive press. Another scandal in their small kingdom. The entire year it seemed they had ricocheted from one disaster to another. As the door to his private suite closed behind him, he noticed for the first time that his clothing, his hands, were stained with Adelaide’s blood. He had even gotten some on Annick and her beautiful dress. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t even have said precisely what he was apologizing for - embroiling her in his messy life, the blood, taking her to an event where he nearly died. Where he nearly died. Stepping back, he glanced down at his clothing and began to fumble with the buttons. He needed the clothes off but the shock was now wearing off and his limbs felt out of his control.
To her credit, Annick had not completely panicked, though she may have screamed when Adelaide had fallen. And now was not the time to fall apart. “Cyrus, stop,” Annick said calmly, stepping closer again and moving his hands so she could undress him herself. “I won’t accept an apology for something not remotely your fault.” She didn’t regret being there and didn’t regret being here now. Once she managed to get his jacket and shirt off, she held his face between her hands. “I want to be at your side, no matter what. I’m strong enough to withstand the storm, let me help.”
It felt better when she was closer, which was probably a terrible sign but she made him feel things he had never experienced with another. “You could have died.” He whispered gruffly. “If ….” He swallowed the words, unwilling to give voice to them. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closely but over the scent that he had come to associate with this beautiful submissive, he could only smell that heavy coppery metal of drying blood. “I need to get clean. I must ….” He nodded toward the washroom. “Join me, my Annick.”
Annick felt calmer when he wrapped his arms around her. “But I didn’t,” she reminded quietly. She would take the time to examine what all those words meant later. Right now, it was enough to help in any way she could. “Of course,” she nodded, stepping out of his embrace and taking his hand.
Still the if felt large and uncomfortable. What if she had been on the stage with him, what if she had been the one to step forward, what if … what if … what if … his mind seemed frozen, fixed on this terrible idea of horrible possibilities. The tug of her hand drew him out of this train of thought. He followed her to the washroom. If he had been his ordinary self, he would have been trying to peel off her beautiful dress but the idea of touching her with his blood-stained hands felt wrong. He needed to feel clean and he needed to hold her. And at some point a drink … goddamnit he could use a damn drink.
Nick knew that for the moment at least, she needed to provide direction. In the washroom, she started the shower and then turned to finish removing Cyrus’ clothing. It occurred to her that burning them might be better than trying to clean them. Her dress came next before she took his hand and pulled him into the shower. The warm water helped to wash away the blood though it did little to wash away the trauma. That, she hoped, could be helped by her gentle hands as she washed him.
As the water poured over him, he processed that at some point his girl had undressed him and gotten him into the shower. He reached forward to cup her face, tipping up her head and claimed her lips in a soft kiss. “Thank you, mon amour. I adore you.” He whispered against her full lips. “I think I love you.” He continued and then a small smile flickered over his lips as he realized how silly that sounded, “I love you.” he repeated, removing the careful attempt to protect himself.
Annick smiled at the whispered adoration about to chide him about being sappy until he whispered again. She stared, quite sure she’d heard him wrong. Cyrus had just been through tremendous trauma and hadn’t he in the recent past not believed her confession. Still, her own stubborn heart refused to be logical. She twined his arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his smiling lips. “I love you, too.” And she did. It was no longer a hidden crush but real and present. “But tell me again tomorrow.”
“Every day…. I promise.” He whispered before pressing another soft kiss to her lips. He knew there were many things he needed to do. Check on the members of his House. Some of them were hard as nails, tougher than he could ever be but others were soft. Lin. Liana. Henri. Even Asa would lose his mind if anything happened to Nate or Liana, the two that had kept that old man’s heart going after losing his own beloved daughters. He couldn’t bear another loss. Still, in this moment, he just wanted to hold the woman he loved and let the hot water wash away the blood of a sweet young woman who had taken a bullet he suspected was meant for him. His arms tightened around her, pulling her to him and he just let the heated water pour over them, entwined together.
Promises were not something Annick took lightly and she was positive that the same was true for Cyrus. Sensing that the time for discussion was over, Annick let herself be held close, taking comfort in Cyrus’ arms. She laid her head on his chest and listened carefully to his heartbeat, whispering a prayer of thanks that he was still alive and here with her for another day. Her own hold tightened as well. Tomorrow, or later, when he was busy dealing with the aftermath, she’d allow herself the tears she knew needed to be shed. For now, he needed her stability and she would gratefully give it to him.
When he finally felt steady, he unwove himself slightly from his beautiful submissive and began to finish washing them both down. He felt himself steady and became calm again, drawing from her calm composure. He flicked off the water with a quick turn of one hand and guided his beauty out of the shower stall. He dried off her damp skin and used the fluffy towel most of the moisture from her hair before tending to himself. “Come...I need you tonight, my woman.”
Nick could feel the shift in his demeanor as he calmed. Whatever frayed nerves she hid from him, were soothed as he settled. She took his hand as he finished drying himself. “Lead the way. I’m yours…” It was the first time she’d let herself say that and believe it.
Delicious words. His soul consumed them. She was his - something wonderful happening here between them. Later doubts would cause him pause. If he was a target, having her in his life was dangerous to her. A conversation for another day, another time. Right now, he needed to
sink into her. He needed her. Folding his hand over hers, he pulled her forward and out of the well-appointed bathing room into the broad expanse of the suite.
Drawing her forward, he pulled her into a kiss as his hand slid down her back to cup the curve of her bottom. “Remind me to warm you up here later … my wild woman has not been spanked in far too long.” He teased against the submissive’s lips. His kisses trailed down her throat and over the curve of her clavicle until he could press heated caresses to her shoulder. He smoothed her hands to her side and murmured, “Be still …. I’ll let you know when you are permitted to move.”
Despite all they’d been through that evening, a smile formed against his lips at his teasing. Not that he needed any but she was sure to give him reason at some point in the near future. It occurred to her to tease him back but those thoughts were erased by the trail of his lips and the heat of his body against hers. Apparently she needed him too.
There was the briefest of nods in acknowledgement of his words and a murmured, ‘yes, Sir,” as she stilled. Stillness didn’t come naturally. Part of that wildness, she supposed. But her will to obey was stronger, so she stood as still as possible, her only movement the rise and fall of her chest.
Lower and lower his lips trailed, heated flicks against the silken skin, cooling after the shower in the late summer air. He slipped gracefully to his knees before her, his kisses now trailing over the curve of her abdomen and along the line of her hip. His fingertips traced up from her narrow ankles, along the curve of her calves to the silk of her inner thigh. His mouth pressed to her sex, tongue flicking over that heated core, tasting her, lightly at first and then feverishly, possessively, drawing out her heat, wanting her to call his name and beg, even with merely the twist of her hips and the pants of her breath.
Annick lowered her eyes to watch Cyrus move. Her desire grew as lips and fingers grazed her sensitive skin. His movements were as graceful as they were seductive. It was all she could do to leave her hands at her sides. She longed to thread her fingers through his hair, to tug at those dark strands. God, but he was skilled with that wicked mouth that he used to charm and beguile. No longer was her thoughts on the trauma of the evening. Her world had narrowed to only him. “Cyrus!” she cried, legs trembling as she fought to stay still.
“Be still, my wild woman … show me what a good girl you are.” He teased before placing a few damp kisses along the smooth skin of one inner thigh, his hair tickling the other as he moved. Cyrus continued upward again, reclaiming her pussy. One finger pressed into her, not enough to satisfy, just to tease the woman’s sex. She was wet now, drenching his hand, the flavours of her dancing over his tongue. A delicious distraction from the events of the night. His possessive hold and her obedience settling and satisfying his Dominant urge to claim the submissive before him, the woman he loved. He broke contact and before his hand fell away, he gave her thigh a sharp pinch. “Hands and knees on the bed, arch your back, no touching yourself.” he demanded gruffly.
And wasn’t that what she had always wanted? To be his good girl and earn that praise. She resolved to stay still as he continued his assault, though the brush of lips and hair made that particularly difficult as she stifled a laugh. She gasped as he slip a finger inside her, a desperate mewling noise following. Fuck, but she wanted to rock against the intrusion. Her eyes fluttered closed as she concentrated on obeying. “Fuck!” The pinch had startled her more than hurt. She colored hotly as she scrambled to obey, moving not nearly so gracefully as she positioned herself on the bed. It was not even a little bit hard not to touch herself. She far preferred being touched by him.
He loved the blush, the fire in her cheeks as she was a good girl and got into position on the bed. With careful hands and gentle caresses, he adjusted her position, her sex spread from the part of her knees. The position one of a supplicant, framed perfectly on his bed. Her wetness decorated her thighs. There wasn’t a mark on her aside from the rapidly fading spot where he had pinched her. Ordinarily he would be seeking to leave his mark on her pale skin, to marr her perfection with his possession. But at this moment he reveled in her beauty, unmarred by anyone, including him. Tracing his fingers over her dripping core, he murmured, “That’s a good girl. You are so beautiful. And mine. All mine. Say it … pledge it … Say I am yours and you are mine.” His instructions were accompanied by the rough press of two fingers into her channel, filling her before pulling almost all the way out before filling her again. “Tell me.”
Annick thrilled to his gentleness as much as when he was far rougher. She was his to command either way. In this position, open and vulnerable, she’d never felt safer. “Yours!” she cried as his fingers drove into her. Her silken walls tightened around him as he thrust into her roughly, long fingers sinful but not what she was desperate for. “Cyrus.” Her voice was cracked with emotion. “I’m yours and you are mine. Always. Please…” She’d never felt such all encompassing need.
Her words were delicious and filled up places with him that ached in ways he could not describe. “That’s a good girl.” He murmured huskily as he smoothed a free hand up and down her slim back, feeling her quiver beneath the gentle touch. His fingers continued to slow fuck the girl, drawing out her heat until it dripped down her thighs. His cock lay hard against his thigh, rising in desire, craving her as she craved him. He wrapped his free hand around his length and stroked. He withdrew his fingers and before she could whimper for their loss, she was filled again by his cock. His hands wrapped around her narrow hips, the grip almost punishingly brutal as he held her still.
It always astonished her that his simple praise was so effective. It pressed her lower, arched her back more, sent a new flood of wetness to the apex of her thighs. The slow movement of his fingers was beginning to border on torture as he prolonged the inevitable. When Cyrus finally broke down and replaced his fingers with his cock, she cried out his name. Her hands curled into fists, clutching the sheets beneath her. If not for his powerful grip, she wasn’t sure she could have remained still.
Cyrus pressed forward, filling her slowly, torturing even himself at this moment but unconcerned. He wanted her begging for release and he was determined to get it. It was a much needed distraction from the day that proceeded. His hand slid from her hip to trace over her abdomen, a fingertip seeking out her clit. He teased the bundle of nerves, circling gently before pressing more roughly against her. “You belong to me.” He grumbled quietly, more to himself than her really, his breaths becoming soft pants as he fucked into her again and again. His pace increased, fucking her harder and harder.
The moan that escaped Annick as she was filled was nothing short of wanton. She wanted to press back, take more. His quiet rumble of words was met with a not nearly so quiet reply of “Yours!” as his finger pressed against her clit. It was just the right amount of gentle and roughness that sent liquid fire through her veins. Her body tightened in response to his harsher pace, back arching nearly painfully in an effort to get more.
The terror of the night’s events felt distant and forgotten in the heat of this moment and the intensity of the connection. What he felt for Annick was unrivaled in his personal history, although he knew that was likely not the case for her as she had been engaged before. Regardless, she was his now and he wasn’t planning to part with her.
Pressing his fingers into her core, he gave her clit a rough pinch. “Cum for me, my little wild woman.” He groaned out as he started to shake just a little, a symptom of the restraint. He wanted to fill her, watch her cum on his cock before he allowed himself the pleasure of release. He put all his effort into teasing her body, in drawing out her heat and pleasure. “Cum.” he demanded again, aching for her and wanting to finish within.
A gasp left her at the pinch, the tell-tale tightening of her stomach as she neared her peak. It was the order more than the physicality of the moment that sent her over the edge, though feeling Cyrus holding back added to the rush. She cried out his name as she came, body shaking with the intensity of the moment.
Her voice crying out his name provided the rush he needed. His hands tightened on her slim hips and his rhythm faltered as he fucked into the beautiful brunette, claiming her in that primal heat given by her silken body beneath him. Her submission to his will satisfied the Dominant at the core of the man. Weaving his hand into her dark hair, he tugged her upward and claimed her lips in a long, heated kiss before pulling them both down onto the bed in a collapsed heap of limbs and naked, satiated flesh. “My wild woman … my Annick ….” He murmured against her throat before applying a gentle kiss beneath her ear. “I love you.”
Alice sent her friends back up to Gryffindor Tower without her, using the excuse that, as a prefect and a seventh year, she really ought to stay in the entrance hall to make sure everyone got in and to their common rooms without lingering or causing any panic or hysteria. As far as excuses go it was a flimsy one, especially considering there were prefects among her friends, but it did eventually send them off. True to her word, Alice stayed in the entrance hall until it seemed like no one else was left outside the castle, but when she left it was not in the direction of her common room filled with her friends and younger students who probably needed someone like Alice who would sit and listen and give them a hug when they started to cry.
Except Alice was in no fit state to be her usual, optimistic, comforting self. There may well be students in need of a calm presence, but that presence would have to be someone else. Calm was, at the moment, an impossible concept for Alice. Alice stalked the halls with angry tears burning in her eyes. Had anyone happened across her they nearly wouldn’t have recognized her as the cheerful girl who usually roamed the halls. It wasn’t in Alice nature to be in-genuine and she wasn’t the type to put on fronts, but she didn’t like to bother the general population with her problems. If she was upset about something she would walk off the strongest of her feelings, and then talk to a friend about it.
Alice wasn’t sure if there was enough time in the world for her to walk off this emotion. Anger was too simple a word for what Alice was feeling, it was used far to regularly to explain what exactly was boiling inside her. Rage seemed more fitting. She was incensed, she was furious, she wanted to break something. Alice liked to think she was pretty openminded. She didn’t always have to be right and people didn’t always have to agree with her. She could even tolerate people having opposite opinions from her, but not when those opinions put other people in harms way. If there was anything Alice hated, it was a bully.
Every time Alice thought she might be calming down, and might be able to go back to her common room, she would think of all the families who’d lost everything, and she’d start crying angry tears again. She couldn’t begin to imagine what if would be like for her house to burn to the ground, for all the pictures of her grandmother to turn to ash, every trinket connected to a dear memory destroyed or disfigured. It was such a cruel fate, she didn’t understand how anyone could exact it on another human being. Alice was pulled out of her thoughts just as she was about to round a corner by the sound of footsteps. Wanting to avoid explaining herself, she darted into a nearby classroom, hoping she’d been quick enough to avoid being spotted.
Skipping school the day after the judo 'incident,' Dominik had plenty of time to keep to himself and do the things that he felt would entertain him the most - even if the level of said entertainment was on the low side. Video games with his father and video chatting with Sylvia seemed to take up his free time and distract him temporarily from the hell that was his school. However, the day he finally did return felt like an entirely different world. Sure, he was still the outcast, the queer, the whatever else that people felt like titling him because of what had happened; but now he was refreshed with a new wave of just what he should have been doing at school. If they couldn't accept him when he didn't do anything wrong, he was going to give them a reason not to accept him.
Classes had been their usual boredom laced with picking up one or two ideas to help him through the homework and the boy quickly collected his things and started for the doors of the school once it was let out for the day. He didn't want to hang around; didn't want to be lectured or thought of as needing extra help for the assignments. No, none of that applied to the new list of priorities. Now Dominik just wanted to get home and get back to where he'd left off with Sylvia. There was just something about her that drew him to her; and that goes for outside of the Suicide Room as well. It was more than just an online RPG, after all; she was a girl on the other side of that character - a girl that had an interest in him and wasn't out to embarrass him or judge him for who he was (perhaps for things he did or said, but not for who he was.) Shifting his books to lay over one arm, he turned up his music and pushed the main doors to the school open to walk outside.
