#gun buyer

[cashforarms]

Our mission is to ensure that firearms are bought and sold through safe and legal routes.  Preventing illegal firearm transactions leads to fewer lives lost to illegal gun violence.  This idea leads to every decision we make

[churcvh]

i’m gonna scare the shit out of the kids at my liberal arts college talking about guns in my presentation tomorrow (i’m talking about the arsenal that David Koresh had at Waco)

[swagging-back-to]

if you wanna see some of the most vile abusive control freak ass humans just go into dog owning communities. r/dogs, #dogs on tumblr or instagram, dog training forums, dog groomers, etc.

[notastraykid]

Now I remember why I don't work from home. *aggressive clicks on mouse* I get bored and end up buying random shit. *slams down debit card* fuck sake. *order placed*

[sapphia]

USA please listen to me: the price of “teaching them a lesson” is too high. take it from New Zealand, who voted our Labour government out in the last election because they weren’t doing exactly what we wanted and got facism instead.

Trans rights are being attacked, public transport has been defunded, tax cuts issued for the wealthy, they've mass-defunded public services, cut and attacked the disability funding model, cut benefits, diverted transport funding to roads, cut all recent public transport subsidies, cancelled massive important infrastructure projects like damns and ferries (we are three ISLANDS), fast tracked mining, oil, and other massive environmentally detrimental projects and gave the power the to approve these projects singularly to three ministers who have been wined and dined by lobbyists of the companies that have put the bids in to approve them while one of the main minister infers he will not prioritise the protection of endangered species like the archeys frog over mining projects that do massive environmental harm. They have attacked indigenous rights in an attempt to negate the Treaty of Waitangi by “redefining it”; as a backup, they are also trying to remove all mentions of the treaty from legislation starting with our Child Protection laws no longer requiring social workers to consider the importance of Maori children’s culture when placing those children; when the Waitangi Tribunal who oversees indigenous matters sought to enquire about this, the Minister for Children blocked their enquiry in a breach of comity that was condemned in a ruling — too late to do anything — by our Supreme Court. They have repealed labour protections around pay and 90 day trials, reversed our smoking ban, cancelled our EV subsidy, cancelled our water infrastructure scheme that would have given Maori iwi a say in water asset management, cancelled our biggest city’s fuel tax, made our treasury and inland revenue departments less accountable, dispensed of our Productivity Commission, begun work on charter schools and military boot camps in an obvious push towards privatisation, cancelled grants for first home buyers, reduced access to emergency housing, allowed no cause evictions, cancelled our Maori health system that would have given Maori control over their own public medical care and funding, cut funding of services like budgeting advice and food banks, cancelled the consumer advocacy council, cancelled our medicine regulations, repealed free prescriptions, deferred multiple hospital builds, failed to deliver on pre-election medical promises, reversed a gun ban created in response to the mosque shootings, brought back three strikes = life sentence policy, increased minimum wage by half the recommended amount, cancelled fair pay for disabled workers, reduced wheelchair services, reversed our oil and gas exploration ban, cancelled our climate emergency fund, cut science research funding including climate research, removed limits on killing sea lions, cut funding for the climate change commission, weakened our methane targets, cancelled Significant National Areas protections, have begun reversing our ban on live exports. Much of this was passed under urgency.

It’s been six months.

[macmanusauctions]

Auction, Live Auction, In-Home Auction

Estate Sales

Consignment

Gun Sales (Firearms)

Coin Buyers / Consignment

Antiques Buyers / Consignment

Furniture Buyers / Consignment

Collectibles Buyers / Consignment

www.mcmanusauctions.com

https://reviewthis.biz/03adfe36

[brotoman-exe]

Seeing as The Buyer in the Knuckles show never was given a name in the show I will treat it as my moniker for him "Big Snively" is indeed canon and correct

[guitarbomb]

Christmas Guitar Buyer's Guide: Best Starter Packs

Guitar Bomb’s Christmas Guitar Buyer’s Guide: Best Starter Packs for New Guitar Players. Are you or someone you know looking to start playing the guitar or rekindle a passion for music this Christmas? Best Starter Packs for New Guitar Players If you’re on a budget, there’s no need to break the bank. In this Guitar Bomb Christmas Guitar Buyer’s Guide, we’ll introduce you to the best guitar starter…

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #13

April 5-12 2024

President Biden announced the cancellation of a student loan debt for a further 277,000 Americans. This brings the number of a Americans who had their debt canceled by the Biden administration through different means since the Supreme Court struck down Biden's first place in 2023 to 4.3 million and a total of $153 billion of debt canceled so far. Most of these borrowers were a part of the President's SAVE Plan, a debt repayment program with 8 million enrollees, over 4 million of whom don't have to make monthly repayments and are still on the path to debt forgiveness.

President Biden announced a plan that would cancel student loan debt for 4 million borrowers and bring debt relief to 30 million Americans The plan takes steps like making automatic debt forgiveness through the public service forgiveness so qualified borrowers who don't know to apply will have their debts forgiven. The plan will wipe out the interest on the debt of 23 million Americans. President Biden touted how the plan will help black and Latino borrowers the most who carry the heavily debt burdens. The plan is expected to go into effect this fall ahead of the election.

President Biden and Vice-President Harris announced the closing of the so-called gun show loophole. For years people selling guns outside of traditional stores, such as at gun shows and in the 21st century over the internet have not been required to preform a background check to see if buyers are legally allowed to own a fire arm. Now all sellers of guns, even over the internet, are required to be licensed and preform a background check. This is the largest single expansion of the background check system since its creation.

The EPA published the first ever regulations on PFAS, known as forever chemicals, in drinking water. The new rules would reduce PFAS exposure for 100 million people according to the EPA. The Biden Administration announced along side the EPA regulations it would make available $1 billion dollars for state and local water treatment to help test for and filter out PFAS in line with the new rule. This marks the first time since 1996 that the EPA has passed a drinking water rule for new contaminants.

The Department of Commerce announced a deal with microchip giant TSMC to bring billions in investment and manufacturing to Arizona. The US makes only about 10% of the world's microchips and none of the most advanced chips. Under the CHIPS and Science Act the Biden Administration hopes to expand America's high-tech manufacturing so that 20% of advanced chips are made in America. TSMC makes about 90% of the world's advanced chips. The deal which sees a $6.6 billion dollar grant from the US government in exchange for $65 billion worth of investment by TSMC in 3 high tech manufacturing facilities in Arizona, the first of which will open next year. This represents the single largest foreign investment in Arizona's history and will bring thousands of new jobs to the state and boost America's microchip manufacturing.

The EPA finalized rules strengthening clean air standards around chemical plants. The new rule will lower the risk of cancer in communities near chemical plants by 96% and eliminate 6,200 tons of toxic air pollution each year. The rules target two dangerous cancer causing chemicals, ethylene oxide and chloroprene, the rule will reduce emissions of these chemicals by 80%.

the Department of the Interior announced it had beaten the Biden Administration goals when it comes to new clean energy projects. The Department has now permitted more than 25 gigawatts of clean energy projects on public lands, surpass the Administrations goal for 2025 already. These solar, wind, and hydro projects will power 12 million American homes with totally green power. Currently 10 gigawatts of clean energy are currently being generated on public lands, powering more than 5 million homes across the West. 

The Department of Transportation announced $830 million to support local communities in becoming more climate resilient. The money will go to 80 projects across 37 states, DC, and the US Virgin Islands The projects will help local Infrastructure better stand up to extreme weather causes by climate change.

The Senate confirmed Susan Bazis, Robert White, and Ann Marie McIff Allen to lifetime federal judgeships in Nebraska, Michigan, and Utah respectively. This brings the total number of judges appointed by President Biden to 193

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Google antitrust remedy should extinguish surveillance, not democratize it

I'm coming to DEFCON! On FRIDAY (Aug 9), I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On SATURDAY (Aug 10), I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

If you are even slightly plugged into the doings and goings on in this tired old world of ours, then you have heard that Google has lost its antitrust case against the DOJ Antitrust Division, and is now an official, no-foolin', convicted monopolist.

This is huge. Epochal. The DOJ, under the leadership of the fire-breathing trustbuster Jonathan Kanter, has done something that was inconceivable four years ago when he was appointed. On Kanter's first day on the job as head of the Antitrust Division, he addressed his gathered prosecutors and asked them to raise their hands if they'd never lost a case.

It was a canny trap. As the proud, victorious DOJ lawyers thrust their arms into the air, Kanter quoted James Comey, who did the same thing on his first day on the job as DA for the Southern District of New York: "You people are the chickenshit club." A federal prosecutor who never loses a case is a prosecutor who only goes after easy targets, and leave the worst offenders (who can mount a serious defense) unscathed.

Under Kanter, the Antitrust Division has been anything but a Chickenshit Club. They've gone after the biggest game, the hardest targets, and with Google, they bagged the hardest target of all.

Again: this is huge:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/boom-judge-rules-google-is-a-monopolist

But also: this is just the start.

Now that Google is convicted, the court needs to decide what to do about it. Courts have lots of leeway when it comes to addressing a finding of lawbreaking. They can impose "conduct remedies" ("don't do that anymore"). These are generally considered weaksauce, because they're hard to administer. When you tell a company like Google to stop doing something, you need to expend a lot of energy to make sure they're following orders. Conduct remedies are as much a punishment for the government (which has to spend millions closely observing the company to ensure compliance) as they are for the firms involved.

But the court could also order Google to stop doing certain things. For example, since the ruling finds that Google illegally maintained its monopoly by paying other entities – Apple, Mozilla, Samsung, AT&T, etc – to be the default search, the court could order them to stop doing that. At the very least, that's a lot easier to monitor.

The big guns, though are the structural remedies. The court could order Google to sell off parts of its business, like its ad-tech stack, through which it represents both buyers and sellers in a marketplace it owns, and with whom it competes as a buyer and a seller. There's already proposed, bipartisan legislation to do this (how bipartisan? Its two main co-sponsors are Ted Cruz and Elizabeth Warren!):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/25/structural-separation/#america-act

All of these things, and more, are on the table:

https://www.wired.com/story/google-search-monopoly-judge-amit-mehta-options/

We'll get a better sense of what the judge is likely to order in the fall, but the case could drag out for quite some time, as Google appeals the verdict, then tries for the Supreme Court, then appeals the remedy, and so on and so on. Dragging things out in the hopes of running out the clock is a time-honored tradition in tech antitrust. IBM dragged out its antitrust appeals for 12 years, from 1970 to 1982 (they called it "Antitrust's Vietnam"). This is an expensive gambit: IBM outspent the entire DOJ Antitrust Division for 12 consecutive years, hiring more lawyers to fight the DOJ than the DOJ employed to run all of its antitrust enforcement, nationwide. But it worked. IBM hung in there until Reagan got elected and ordered his AG to drop the case.

This is the same trick Microsoft pulled in the nineties. The case went to trial in 1998, and Microsoft lost in 1999. They appealed, and dragged out the proceedings until GW Bush stole the presidency in 2000 and dropped the case in 2001.

I am 100% certain that there are lawyers at Google thinking about this: "OK, say we put a few hundred million behind Trump-affiliated PACs, wait until he's president, have a little meeting with Attorney General Andrew Tate, and convince him to drop the case. Worked for IBM, worked for Microsoft, it'll work for us. And it'll be a bargain."

That's one way things could go wrong, but it's hardly the only way. In his ruling, Judge Mehta rejected the DOJ's argument that in illegally creating and maintaining its monopoly, Google harmed its users' privacy by foreclosing on the possibility of a rival that didn't rely on commercial surveillance.

The judge repeats some of the most cherished and absurd canards of the marketing industry, like the idea that people actually like advertisements, provided that they're relevant, so spying on people is actually doing them a favor by making it easier to target the right ads to them.

First of all, this is just obvious self-serving rubbish that the advertising industry has been repeating since the days when it was waging a massive campaign against the TV remote on the grounds that people would "steal" TV by changing the channel when the ads came on. If "relevant" advertising was so great, then no one would reach for the remote – or better still, they'd change the channel when the show came back on, looking for more ads. People don't like advertising. And they hate "relevant" advertising that targets their private behaviors and views. They find it creepy.

Remember when Apple offered users a one-click opt-out from Facebook spying, the most sophisticated commercial surveillance system in human history, whose entire purpose was to deliver "relevant" advertising? More than 96% of Apple's customers opted out of surveillance. Even the most Hayek-pilled economist has to admit that this is a a hell of a "revealed preference." People don't want "relevant" advertising. Period.

The judge's credulous repetition of this obvious nonsense is doubly disturbing in light of the nature of the monopoly charge against Google – that the company had monopolized the advertising market.

Don't get me wrong: Google has monopolized the advertising market. They operate a "full stack" ad-tech shop. By controlling the tools that sellers and buyers use, and the marketplace where they use them, Google steals billions from advertisers and publishers. And that's before you factor in Jedi Blue, the illegal collusive arrangement the company has with Facebook, by which they carved up the market to increase their profits, gouge advertisers, starve publishers, and keep out smaller rivals:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

One effect of Google's monopoly power is a global privacy crisis. In regions with strong privacy laws (like the EU), Google uses flags of convenience (looking at you, Ireland) to break the law with impunity:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

In the rest of the world, Google works with other members of the surveillance cartel to prevent the passage of privacy laws. That's why the USA hasn't had a new federal privacy law since 1988, when Congress acted to ban video-store clerks from telling newspaper reporters about the VHS cassettes you took home:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

The lack of privacy law and privacy enforcement means that Google can inflict untold privacy harms on billions of people around the world. Everything we do, everywhere we go online and offline, every relationship we have, everything we buy and say and do – it's all collected and stored and mined and used against us. The immediate harm here is the haunting sense that you are always under observation, a violation of your fundamental human rights that prevents you from ever being your authentic self:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/blog/2013/jun/14/nsa-prism

The harms of surveillance aren't merely spiritual and psychological – they're material and immediate. The commercial surveillance industry provides the raw feedstock for a parade of horribles, from stalkers and bounty hunters turning up on their targets' front doors to cops rounding up demonstrators with location data from their phones to identity thieves tricking their marks by using leaked or purchased private information as convincers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

The problem with Google's monopolization of the surveillance business model is that they're spying on us. But for a certain kind of competition wonk, the problem is that Google is monopolizing the violation of our human rights, and we need to use competition law to "democratize" commercial surveillance.

This is deeply perverse, but it represents a central split in competition theory. Some trustbusters fetishize competition for its own sake, on the theory that it makes companies better and more efficient. But there are some things we don't want companies to be better at, like violating our human rights. We want to ban human rights violations, not improve them.

For other trustbusters – like me – the point of competition enforcement isn't merely to make companies offer better products, it's to make companies small enough to hold account through the enforcement of democratic laws. I want to break – and break up – Google because I want to end its ability to bigfoot privacy law so that we can finally root out the cancer of commercial surveillance. I don't want to make Google smaller so that other surveillance companies can get in on the game.

There is a real danger that this could emerge from this decision, and that's a danger we need to guard against. Last month, Google shocked the technical world by announcing that it would not follow through on its years-long promise to kill third-party cookies, one of the most pernicious and dangerous tools of commercial surveillance. The reason for this volte-face appears to be concern that the EU would view killing third-party cookies as anticompetitive, since Google intended to maintain commercial surveillance using its Orwellian "Privacy Sandbox" technology in Chrome, with the effect that everyone except Google would find it harder to spy on us as we used the internet:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/googles-trail-of-crumbs

It's true! This is anticompetitive. But the answer isn't to preserve the universal power of tech companies large and small to violate our human rights – it's to ban everyone, especially Google, from spying on us!

This current in competition law is still on the fringe, but the Google case – which finds the company illegally dominating surveillance advertising, but rejects the idea that surveillance is itself a harm – offers an opportunity for this bad idea to go from the fringe to the center.

If that happens, look out.

Take "attribution," an obscure bit of ad-tech jargon disguising a jaw-droppingly terrible practice. "Attribution" is when an ad-tech company shows you an ad, and then follows you everywhere you go, monitoring everything you do, to determine whether the ad convinced you to buy something. I mean that literally: they're combining location data generated by your phone and captured by Bluetooth and wifi receivers with data from your credit card to follow you everywhere and log everything, so that they can prove to a merchant that you bought something.

This is unspeakably grotesque. It should be illegal. In many parts of the world, it is illegal, but it is so lucrative that monopolists like Google can buy off the enforcers and get away with it. What's more, only the very largest corporations have the resources to surveil you so closely and invasively that they can perform this "service."

But again, some competition wonks look at this situation and say, "Well, that's not right, we need to make sure that everyone can do attribution." This was a (completely mad) premise in the (otherwise very good) 2020 Competition and Markets Authority market-study on "Online platforms and digital advertising":

https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/5fa557668fa8f5788db46efc/Final_report_Digital_ALT_TEXT.pdf

This (again, otherwise sensible) document veers completely off the rails whenever the subject of attribution comes up. At one point, the authors propose that the law should allow corporations to spy on people who opt out of commercial surveillance, provided that this spying is undertaken for the sole purpose of attribution.

But it gets even worse: by the end of the document, the authors propose a "user ID intervention" to give every Briton a permanent, government-issued advertising identifier to make it easier for smaller companies to do attribution.

Look, I understand why advertisers like attribution and are willing to preferentially take their business to companies that can perform it. But the fact that merchants want to be able to peer into every corner of our lives to figure out how well their ads are performing is no basis for permitting them to do so – much less intervening in the market to make it even easier so more commercial snoops can get their noses in our business!

This is an idea that keeps popping up, like in this editorial by a UK lawyer, where he proposes fixing "Google's dominance of online advertising" by making it possible for everyone to track us using the commercial surveillance identifiers created and monopolized by the ad-tech duopoly and the mobile tech duopoly:

https://www.thesling.org/what-to-do-about-googles-dominance-of-online-advertising/

Those companies are doing something rotten. In dominating ads, they have stolen billions from publishers and advertisers. Then they used those billions to capture our democratic process and ensure that our human rights weren't being defended as they plundered our private data and put us in harm's way.

Advertising will adapt. The marketing bros know this is coming. They're already discussing how to live in a world where you can't measure clicks and you can't attribute actions (e.g. the world from the first advertisements up until the early 2000s):

https://sparktoro.com/blog/attribution-is-dying-clicks-are-dying-marketing-is-going-back-to-the-20th-century/

An equitable solution to Google's monopoly will not run though our right to privacy. We don't solve the Google monopoly by creating competition in surveillance. The reason to get rid of Google's monopoly is to make it easier to end surveillance.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite - 20

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous

Chapter Warnings: Afab/fem reader, violence (poorly written), character deaths, blood, weapons (knives, gun, shovel), choking, angst, cursing, crying, name calling, kissing, suggestive- I want to start with an apology to Atiny bc this is nooooot good for them tbh

WC: 12.7k

“Please?” 

“No, baby.” 

“Please?”

“I said no, omega.”

“But why?” 

“This is a serious deal, I don’t need my pretty omega to be a distraction.” 

Chan's words made you lip wobble and you cast your head down as you blinked back tears. You had asked -more like begged- to join him today. You heard him sigh and step away from where he was fixing his hair in the mirror and he turned to you. He tenderly held your face in his hands and lifted your gaze back up to his. 

“What I mean baby, is I don’t know what kind of people these potential buyers are. I would rather you be here with the pack where I know you're safe and sound. Okay?” The alpha was pumping out calming pheromones in an attempt to sooth you and make you more agreeable. You breathed in the dizzying scent and immediately felt better. You nodded and only had a mild pout remaining on your lips. He chuckled and gave you a gentle kiss to your head before turning back to looking in the mirror. 

He looked good. He was dressed in black dress pants that hugged his meaty thighs just right, and a white button down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons were undone, giving a peak of his broad chest underneath. He paired the outfit with a pair of black Prada dress shoes and a gold chain around his neck that glimmered in the reflection. Overall his look screamed old money. 

You would have jumped his bones if you hadn’t been so anxious. Ever since you woke up this morning there has been this gnawing uneasiness that had been plaguing you that you couldn’t explain. Chan had to go a few towns over to show a big property for some potential buyers. Something in you didn’t want to see your alpha leave today. Or at the least you wanted him to bring you. You and chan had chalked it up to omega hormones but deep down you knew it was something else. Something more sinister. 

“I’ll miss you today.” You murmured, casting your gaze to his now pushed back hair then flickering over to his face where you caught his poorly contained grin. 

“Aww I’ll miss you more, Baby. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time I’m gone.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Yeah right. The only thing on your mind is how much money your company is going to make from this deal.” 

Chan gasped dramatically, acting hurt. “That’s not true! You are always the main thing on my mind. I’d say 80 percent of my thoughts are about how much I miss and love you.” 

You pouted again, “Oh yeah? What’s the other 20 percent?” 

“How much I can’t wait to spoil my baby and my pack with the huge payout.” He grinned at you cheekily and gave you a wink. 

You giggled, “You know the boys would be stoked to hear you say that. Still, you’ll be gone practically all day. Whatever shall I do with myself, hmm?” ” 

Suddenly he snapped his fingers as if he had a great idea. 

“I have a great idea!” Oh he was so cute. The alpha took out his phone and typed something quickly then he shoved it back in his pocket. “There, now you won’t be bored.” He seemed pleased with himself. 

“What did you do?” You asked, narrowing your eyes in inquiry and crossing your arms. Literally a second later there was a knock on the door of Chan's room. “Channieee what did you do?” 

He smirked at you and raised his hands in defense, “Nothing nothing! Come on in!” He called out. 

Slowly the door creaked open and the epitome of blue haired happiness peaked his head in, offering you a heart melting smile. “Good morning, sunshine.” 

No matter how many times you’ve seen those freckles they still managed to give you butterflies. “Morning Lixie. What are you up to?” 

A flash of confusion went over his face, then he looked to Chan quickly then back to you. “I’m here to pick you up? Aren’t we going to the farmers market this morning?” 

Your eyes lit up in excitement, “Really?!” 

Both men chuckled at how easily excitable you were- they found it endearing and it just made them love you even more (if that was even possible). It seems like Chan's little distraction method was already working.

“Yes Baby. I thought it would be fun for you and Lix to go out for a while.” Chan said, placing a kiss on your forehead. Then he looked down at his watch, seeing it was already ten am. “I gotta get going, I meet with the clients at noon and it takes about a little more than an hour or so if there's no traffic. Plus there's a coffee shop I like to stop by when I go.” he gave you a cheeky kiss on your lips then a hard smack to your ass as he passed. Earning him a loud ‘HEY!’. He laughed and sped out before he could face your wrath. “I love you! Have fun with Felix! That’s an order!” 

You rolled your eyes with a huff, then you sarcastically saluted him. “Sir yes sir.” 

“Save the ‘sir’ talk for Min.” Chan snickered leaving the room, giving Felix a pat on the back as he went.

Felix stepped fully into the room now. He was dressed casually in a pair of wide leg jeans and an oversized white baggy tank. It was a good look on him, especially with his hair tied back. “Are you ready to go, love?” 

You were already dressed and ready for the day, donning a long white sundress that had a pink floral design and a corseted top. You felt something was missing though. “Hmm.. gimme one second Lix - OH I KNOW!” You snapped your fingers then ran to the closet, quickly pulling out a floppy white sun hat. You put it on your head proudly and turned back to Felix. 

He held up two thumbs up and had a wide smile, “Perfect farmers market outfit!” 

You beamed back, “Thanks Lixie. I’m ready for our date now.” 

A deep blush appeared on his face and up to his ears and he couldn’t get rid of the giddiness in his expression. ‘Our date…’ Felix liked the sound of that. He looped arms with you and led you out of the house. 

The market was surprisingly bustling. There were many different stalls set up with vendors selling all kinds of home grown fruits and veggies, along with some selling baked goods and garden starters.

The both of you were having a great time together. You had already drinken a fresh smoothie from a food truck near the beginning. Each of you had gotten a different flavor and had shared both. They were delicious and a great way to beat the ever growing heat. 

You were telling Felix about your plans for some of the produce when a little girl no older than three years old ran past you, being playfully chased by an older boy who looked to be about six. They ran past laughing and giggling and it brought a smile to your face. You knew they had to be siblings by the way they both had chunky cheeks and light brown hair. It made you wonder what your future kids will look like . ‘Will they have my eyes? Chans nose perhaps? Maybe little pouty lips?’ Subconsciously you brought a hand up to rest over your stomach. 

“Are you alright, love?” 

Felixs words brought you out of your head, and his gentle face appeared in front of you. He noticed your hand had moved to your midsection. 

“Yeah, m’ fine Lixie.” You offered a small smile and he raised a brow like he didn’t believe you. “It’s just..” You looked down nervously. “Do you think Channie would wanna start our family soon?” 

 Felix almost felt his heart break at your crestfallen face. But then all at once it was rebuilt again. ‘She wants a baby? She would be so adorable with a pregnant belly.’ 

“Oh omega..” He cooed and lifted your head with his free hand. You didn’t want to meet his eyes but you knew that’s what he was looking for so tearfully you did. “I know for a fact that Alpha will want to give you pups, he’s wanted to be a dad his whole life. Most of us have. It’s only a matter of time before he’s ready. I think maybe he wants you to be ready first.” 

You nodded, “I think you’ll all make wonderful fathers.” 

He nuzzled your nose with his own, “And you’ll make an amazing mother. Plus you’ll be extra cute when you're all round and waddling around.” He pressed a cheeky peck to your lips. “Even imagining it is driving me crazy. If Chan doesn’t hurry up I may have to do it myself.” 

You snorted and pulled back, “Yeah because defying him and taking things into your own hands worked out so well last time.” 

He grimaced remembering how terrible it was to not be able to touch you. “On second thought, maybe we’ll wait a while.” You laughed then returned to browsing. Almost immediately your attention was off the previous subject.

“OOO look at those! They’re huge!” You exclaimed and pointed at the massive watermelons in front of you . They had to be the biggest fruits you had ever seen in your life and you knew you had to have it. You looked at Felix with puppy dog eyes, asking for permission to get one of these giant melons. 

The beta looked down at all the things you had already gotten; his arms held bags full of squashes, berries, breads and goods galore (he had demanded he hold the bags for you no matter what you bought). He sighed, knowing he would never be able to tell you no but dreading having to carry that around. “Ok baby, anything for you. Pick whatever one you want.” 

You critically examined each melon, then pointed at the one that looked the best to you. “Ahh good pick young lady.” The old man at the stall rubbed his beard. “That one is about 40 pounds and should be one of the sweetest ones.” 

You clasped your hands together and handed him some money (that Felix was gracious enough to let you hold on to; to make you feel like you're contributing), “That’s so heavy!”

The beta dreaded having to carry this thing but he went to pick it up anyways.

“Lixie, it’s ok I can take it-” 

“Nah I got it”

“At least let me carry the bags-”

“Pfft, I got this Baby, I’m a man you know?” He flexed as if he were trying to make a point and you rolled your eyes and held your hands up in defeat. With a deep breath, he tried to lift the melon. He almost fell backwards with it in his arms, the weight being too much along with everything else. 

Thankfully the old man was there, as he had to hurriedly take the large fruit from Felix before he could drop it. “Careful there, son. That took me months to grow.” 

You giggled while Felix held in a pout at being scolded. “Aww Lix it’s ok, it’s just a melon I don’t need it.” 

He scowled lightly, “Now hold on a minute Baby, you’re getting this melon if it’s the last thing I do!”

You did in fact get your melon… After the farmer man had to carry it to the car for you. Even though his ego was hurt Felix still thanked the man and handed him a twenty dollar bill for his trouble. 

Now you were both in the car on the way back home. You couldn’t stop your little chuckles at how cute his red cheeks were. You reached up and pinched the heated skin.

“Baby stoooopppp it’s not funny!” He whined and smacked your hand away while keeping one hand on the wheel. “What kind of man can’t even carry a watermelon?!” 

“Lix, anybody would have struggled with that thing. It doesn’t make you less of a man.” 

He grumbled under his breath, “the farmer could lift it just fine..” 

“Felix… are you jealous of the farmer?” You asked slowly, trying not to laugh again. 

“He was like seventy years old and could pick it up no problem! And he had a sick ass beard!” 

“You are so cute Lix oh my god.” This time there was no containing your cackling, you laughed so hard tears started to well in your eyes. Seeing you laughing next to him made Felix start to laugh too, now realizing how silly it is. 

The car drove down the forest road to the house, then a few moments later pulled up and parked in front of the house. Seeing Chan's car gone from the driveway reminded you of the dread that loomed within you, your sweet scent slightly souring. 

Felix turned off the car and turned to you with a crinkle in his brow. “What’s wrong baby?” 

“Something feels wrong Lix. Something has felt wrong all day.” You wrung your hands together anxiously. You looked at the time on the dashboard, seeing it ‘11:50’. Chan might not be with the clients yet. “Do you think we can maybe send a text to Channie just to make sure he’s alright?” 

The beta pulled out his phone, “absolutely.” He opens his phone and hands it to you. “Type whatever you want. We really should get you your own phone soon, it’s not practical in the long run that you don’t have one.” 

You took his phone and typed out a quick message to your alpha, wishing him luck and telling him you loved and missed him. You sent it with bated breath and waited. After about thirty seconds the message said ‘read’ and you felt like you could breathe again. A response came in a moment after. 

‘I miss you more baby. I’ll see you before you know it and you can tell me all about how much fun you had today. I love you, my gorgeous girl.’ 

“See? He’s alright.” Lix reassured and patted your knee. You nodded and handed your phone back to him. You felt better after seeing his reply but the dread didn’t dwindle by much. Felix patted your knee with a smile then opened his door and hopped out, running around to open yours but he wasn’t quick enough before you opened your door with a playful grin. “Baaabbyy I wanted to open it for you!” He whined with a huff. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I apologize. You are a man after all.” You teased him then shut the door again. He laughed and opened your car door with a bow. 

“After you mam.” 

“Thank you, good sir.” You giggled and accepted his outstretched hand. When you were out you gave him a little peck on his lips. He shut your door then opened the back to grab the goods you acquired today- glaring daggers at the offending melon. You rolled your eyes, “ oh don’t be petty, it’s just a fruit Lix!” 

“A fruit who disrespected me! And is about to do it again!” He protested, a frown now gracing his freckled face. “We both know I can’t carry that thing…So now I gotta do the most painful thing in the world.” 

“Aww what’s that, babe?” 

“I have to ask Changbin to help.” 

That once again made you laugh, “His ego is going to be through the roof. I’ll ask him, Lix. He won’t make fun of you if you have your hands full. Or you could let me help yo-” 

“Nope go ahead and get Bin.” He was already filling his arms with your bags and goods. 

“Hmph. Fine.” You pouted and walked into the house, calling for the alpha. “Ohh Binnnniiiie” You sung aloud, then waited. A second later a rumbling pair of feet came scrambling into the room, almost slipping on the rug. You hid your smile with your hand as Changbin was now in front of you pretending to act cool as if he hadn’t almost fallen. 

“Oh hey Baby. You called?” His ears were red and he leaned on the wall. 

“Hi handsome, do you mind helping me out please? There's a heavy melon I can’t lift.” You clasped your hands out in front of you and smiled at him sweetly, making his heart beat wildly in his chest. 

“Of course I’ll help you, but wasn’t Felix with you?” Bin asked. 

“Right here.” Felix came in behind you with his arms full. 

“Damn baby, how much did you get?” Changbin did a double take as the beta passed by him.

His comment made you feel sheepish, you bit your lip and slightly furrowed your brow. “Oh uh, ya know.. Just some stuff for the pack and the garden..” 

“In her defense, she’s an omega who was let loose in a farmers market with almost unlimited funds.” Felix called from further within the house now. 

“I’m kind of jealous you went without me.” The alpha admitted and followed you out to the car. 

“You do have to share me sometimes, Binnie.” You sing songed your words, then yelped when you felt a swift smack to your butt. “Ouch!” 

“Holy shit that thing is huge!” The back was still open in the car so he got a good look at the monstrosity. 

“I know right?! I’ve never seen one so big!” 

He snickered, “That’s what she said.” 

You snorted and smacked his butt in return. “You're damn right!” 

He balked at your response, face turning even redder and mumbling, “Who are you?” 

“I’m what you boys have turned me into.” You grinned at him with a wink. 

Changbin hauled the melon into his arms with ease, holding it with one arm and using the other hand to shut the door. You swooned at how easy it was for him, biting your lip at the flex of his muscles when he lifted the fruit. With his free hand he grabbed yours and led you back into the house. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” 

“Hmm,” You hummed, pursing your lips in thought. You knew you should distract yourself and usually that would be with chores but you had all been good about keeping up with them that there was no need. “I’m not sure. What about you, Binnie?” 

“Whatever you're doing, I’m doin baby.” He brought the back of your hand up to his mouth and gave it a wet kiss.

His sweet answer made you let out a quiet purr. Your inner omega was over the moon to have happy Binnie back. The last few days had been a painful whirlwind of emotions for the both of you. 

You thought back to the saplings you got from the market. “How does some gardening sound?” 

“Only if we can have some lemonade while we do it!” 

You giggled and nodded, “Of course, if we still have some. Ji has been drinking a lot of it lately.” 

Going into the kitchen you saw Lix and Hyunjin, both going through the various things you brought home.

 “Good haul, Baby!” Hyunjin said when he spotted you entering the space. Then his eyes widened at the sight of the watermelon. “Woah, that is freakin gigantic! You weren’t lying Lix.”

“Why would I lie about the literal bane of my existence?” The younger beta grumbled. 

Hyunjin shrugged, “I don’t know, I thought you were exaggerating.” He came up to you and literally pushed Changbin away, then enveloped you in a hug. “Hi gorgeous! Did you have fun?” 

“Mmhmm,” You leaned up and gave him a kiss. “A ton of fun. They had so much to look at! I saw some produce I had never even heard of before!” 

Hyunjin went back to scavenging through the goods, “I want to go next time! It’s not fair that Felix had all the fun with you.” He pouted and glared at the other beta- who in protest stuck his tongue out childishly. 

“You had fun with her the other day! We never spend time together anymore!” 

“Well I’m not the one who misbehaves, so I think I’ve earned unlimited time.” Hyunjin snarked with a stomp. 

“Children settle down!” Changbin pointed at each of them, trying to calm down the gradually heating argument. He could sense your ever growing perturbation as the betas argued and -especially after the other day- he didn’t want anything to stress you out. “Everyone needs to get better at sharing in this damn house.” He tried to harden his tone like an alphas, wanting to get his authority across. 

Both betas scoffed at his attempt, Hyunjin giving him a dramatic side eye. “Since when do you go into high and mighty alpha mode?” 

“Since your weird territorial squabbling is stressing out the love of our lives, you asshole.” Changbin gestured to you, who had been silently biting your lip. 

Everyone's eyes softened, “Oh omega, we’re sorry, we weren’t trying to fight.” Lix said and wrapped you in a hug. 

“Yeah we were only joking around, baby.” Hyunjin added, trying to diffuse the tension. 

You nodded, “It’s alright, I know you boys like to bicker like old people.” ‘I just wish it wasn’t involving me.’

“Baby, I love you and all, but I think the one who acts like an old lady is you.” Hyunjin snickered and went to hug you again but you sidestepped him with a gasp. 

“How dare you!?” You poked his chest in jest. 

“What? Gardening, cooking and reading are your favorite activities! Those are hobbies for old ladies!” 

You huffed and laid a smack to his chest, making him laugh. “You’re not supposed to be the mean one Jinnie!” 

“M not mean I was just playin.” He protested with a whine and reached for you again but you held your hands out to stop him, laughing as he kept coming at you making kissy faces. 

A loud ringing interrupted the moment and all of your attention was brought to the device on the counter. Felix's phone was going off and Chan's picture lit up the screen. You looked to Felix in anticipation and he offered you a smile and a nod. You didn’t hesitate to snatch the phone up and press the answer button, bringing it to your ear. “Hello?” 

“Hi beautiful. What are you up to?” 

“Hi Channie. I’m in the kitchen with Lixie, Jinnie and Binnie. Is everything ok?” 

You heard him sigh in frustration, “Yeah it’s alright. The buyer stood me up. I’ve been waiting here for over 20 minutes past the meet up time.” 

Your heart broke for him. You knew how important this deal would have been for him and the company. “Oh alpha, I’m so sorry.” You could feel that lump of anxiety in your stomach growing once more. 

“It’s ok baby, other buyers will come, it's not a big deal. Anyways, I wanted to let you know I’m going to head home now and I’ll see you soon.” 

That perked you right up, a bright smile finding its way across your face, looking over to the boys who gave you thumbs up. “Ok, I’m excited to have you home. I love you.” 

He chuckled, “I’m excited to be home. I love you more, baby. See you soon.” With that he hung up. You could feel your claiming bite tingle when he said he loved you, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over the marred flesh of your neck. You giddily handed the device back to Felix. 

“He’s on his way home.” You beamed. You grabbed some of the saplings from the counter and grabbed Binnies hand. “Come on! I wanna surprise him with the new additions when he comes home!”

“Oh can I come?” Jinnie asked with pleading eyes. 

“No!” You huffed, “You called my gardening an old person hobby, so no you may not!” 

Felix and Changbin cackled while the other beta jutted his plump lip out in an angry pout. 

Chan could feel his patience wearing thin. He had waited at the entrance to the large vacant commercial building for far longer than he would have liked, only for the clients - who demanded to meet today- to be a no show. 

He looked at his emails once more just to be sure he hadn’t received anything from the client, then ran his hand through his hair. 

“Fuck this. I could have spent the day with my mate, instead I got this bullshit..” He angrily murmured, then let out a deep breath to steel himself. With a stedier mind, he pressed on Felix's contact. It rang once, twice, three times then it was picked up. 

“Hello?” 

It was his omega who answered the phone. Even hearing her voice calmed him down immensely. “Hi beautiful. What are you up to?” 

“Hi Channie. I’m in the kitchen with Lixie, Jinnie and Binnie. Is everything ok?” 

He sighed and kicked the dirt below him, trying to contain his anger.  “Yeah it’s alright. The buyer stood me up. I’ve been waiting here for over 20 minutes past the meet up time.” 

 “Oh alpha, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s ok baby, other buyers will come, it's not a big deal. Anyways, I wanted to let you know I’m going to head home now and I’ll see you soon.” He reassured you, knowing how you're probably feeling. ‘My girl is so empathetic.’ It’s one of the things he loves most about you. 

“Ok, I’m excited to have you home. I love you.”

“I’m excited to be home. I love you more, baby. See you soon.” He hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket. Chan was beyond ready to be home. His thoughts were consumed with you and how he wanted to hold you when he got back. 

In fact, Chan was so distracted that he didn’t pick up on the scent that was drawing closer to him until it was only feet away. His whole body went rigid when he finally caught a whiff of something foul. 

‘There's another alpha next to me.’ 

Chan was suddenly caught in a chokehold, a muscly arm coming around him and trying to take him to the ground. Chan was able to maneuver himself out of the hold with a hard twist of his body, his hands coming up to pry the offending arm from him. He spun around to face his assailant. It was an alpha he had never seen before, but something about him felt familiar in a way Chan couldn’t explain. 

“What the fuck?! Who are you?!” 

The man swung on Chan, a deafening growl escaping the other alpha when Chan was able to dodge. Though Chan was not able to dodge the swift kick that was delivered to his legs, sending him down on his back. When Chan was down in a more vulnerable position the other alpha smirked down at him. 

“Don’t I smell familiar to you, Chan?” The way this man sneered his name made his blood boil. Chan was able to roll away from the next attack, his own legs kicking the knee of the offender and sending him down when he tried to stomp on Chan. “Fuck, I heard you were a strong son of a bitch. You must be, to have hurt my mate.”

Chan sprung to his feet and looked at the other man. It was then that he noticed the bite mark on his neck. The gears in his head finally started to click into place. “You’re Wooyoung's alpha, aren’t you? You’re San.” 

“Don’t say his fucking name, you piece of shit!” San got back up as well, then lunged for Chan, getting a hit in on his face and sending him back a few feet. Chan could feel his nose start to drip just lightly and he was growing even more pissed off. “First you piss off my pack leader, then you piss off me. Things aren’t going to end well for you.” 

‘His pack leader? Who the fuck is hi-’ 

Chan's thoughts were cut off when another hurdling fist came at him, but this time he was more prepared, his own fist smashing into San. His mind was racing. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on but he started to piece it together. 

Wooyoung- a beta- tried to nab you. He was asked to leave town a mere day later and go to an abandoned building. Now an alpha; albeit not a very bright one, was attacking him and mentioning his pack leader. Chan's heart sank in his chest and his eyes widened. This wasn’t just about revenge for what he did to Wooyoung. 

This was about his omega. About you. 

And this man's pack leader was Hongjoong. 

Chan could feel nothing but pure rage and fear as he realized what was happening. He needed to get home to you. Now. 

Chan rolled up his sleeves and hardened his gaze. San wiped the blood from his lip and could feel the intensity coming from Chan, making him gulp but continuing his attack. He pulled out a pocket knife from his pants. “No one messes with my pack. Not even a notorious little bitch like you.” San jeered. 

“Sorry, I don’t have time for this. My omega is waiting for me.” Chan caught the other alpha off guard when he swiftly grabbed Sans arm before he was able to strike, and literally tossed him to the ground. Chan stomped hard on Sans hand, crushing his fingers and making him release the knife with a pained howl. Chan could feel the crunch of bone beneath his nice prada shoes and he grinned down evilly. 

“I’ll kill you!” San screamed and tried to fight him, but Chan hopped on top of him and started throwing his fists into the other alpha over and over again. Chan could feel the blood starting to coat his hands but he didn’t stop. He kept hitting him until his face was unrecognizable. At some point the man under him flailed his legs up in an attempt to knock Chan away but Chan just changed up his tactics, grabbing into the man's head and starting to bash the back of his head into the ground.

“You can’t kill me when you can’t even move.” All either of them saw was red.

Chan's heart was pounding so loudly in his ears. His whole body was splattered in blood, it coated his hands and dripped from his face. Some of it was his but most of it was Sans. The man laid still on the dirty ground, a pool of red surrounding him. Chan didn’t know or care if he was still breathing; and he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. 

He sprinted towards his car, throwing the door open and hopping in. His hands were nearly shaking as he tried to start the ignition. Just then his phone began to ring. He hastily dug it from his pocket, surprised the screen wasn’t cracked at the least. A number he didn’t recognize was calling him.  A sick feeling inside of him told him to answer. 

“Hello?” He put it to his ear and started his car. 

“I gotta tell you, Chris, you’re not as smart as people make you out to be.” 

Chan gripped the steering wheel tightly. “What do you want, Hongjoong? Wasn’t sicking your little pet on me enough?” 

The man on the line chuckled darkly and Chan knew there was a wicked smile on his stupid face. 

“Oh I think you know what I want. You stole something from me and I want it back.” 

Chan grit his teeth, understanding exactly what he was talking about. “I didn’t steal anything. She never belonged to you in the first place.” 

“Liar! You’re a filthy fucking thief. You took what was rightfully mine. I paid good money for that omega. Though I can’t say I’m not disappointed that it turns out she’s a dirty whore since she spreads her legs for you so easily. Still, she belongs to me and I don’t take kindly to thieves.” 

Chan let out the most menacing and guttural growl he had ever released in his life.”Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that.” 

Hongjoong chuckled again. That little laugh made Chan want to gouge his eyes out of his head. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Chris. I thought we could talk this out; alpha to alpha.”

“It seems we’re way past that, since you sent your bitch after me.” 

“Did you kill him?” 

That wasn’t the question Chan was expecting, it almost seemed like Hongjoong cared about his pack. “Why don’t you come over here and check for yourself?” 

The man on the phone hummed with disdain. “Nah, I think I’ll go check in on my omega instead. She is wearing the most delectable little sundress today, isn’t she? Mmm, absolutely scrumptious.” 

Chan sped faster down the interstate, feeling the rage intensify even more. “You listen to me you shit stain -” 

“No, you listen to me! I don’t accept a slight against me! I’ve killed people for less. Trust me when I say that little whore isn’t gonna be worth it when I slit your throat. And every single one of your weak little pack mates. Too bad their big strong alpha left town and left them there. Sure would be a shame if something happened.” 

With that the line went dead. 

“FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUUUCKKKK” Chan slammed his hands against the sterling wheel as he screamed. He knew this was no time to panic and that he had to get home as quickly as possible and he had to warn the pack. He had no idea who was home right now, but he had to try. With shaky fingers he dialed the number. 

“You’re delusional.” 

“No! Everyone agrees Mark Ruffalo is the best ‘Hulk’!” You protested and threw a leaf at Changbin, who only cackled when it flew directly to the ground. You were sitting kneeling in the dirt, settling in the saplings while Changbin mostly kept you company and controlled the music. Right now ‘Genie in a bottle’ by Christina Agulara has just started playing. 

“Uh uh, you and I both know it’s Edward Norton.” 

You huffed, “And you call me delusional.” 

He patted your head as if soothing a feral dog, making you swat his hands away with a scowl.”You’re so cute when you’re all fired up, baby. Makes me wanna take you against that glass again like last time.” He smirked and laughed when you swatted him again. 

“Not right now, Binnie. I wanna get this done to show Channie when he gets home.” You had to pry off the alphas wandering fingers as they started to trail down your back. You crossed your arms when he began to kiss your neck. 

Changbin sighed wistfully and laid one more peck to your skin before pulling away, “Alright alright Baby, you win. I’ll let you finish your little project.” 

“Thank you Binnie.” You smiled and beckoned him down so you can give him a smooch. 

He kissed you again then stood up, adjusting his pants. “I think I’m gonna run in and grab a snack, since I can’t eat the delicious one right in front of me.” He side eyed you with a playful grin. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do you need anything from inside?” 

You hummed in thought, “Maybe some more lemonade please?” 

“You got it.” He gave you a thumbs up and headed inside. 

Changbin made his way to the house. When he opened the back door and went inside he could tell something was up. The vibe inside felt off and he caught a whiff of something that he couldn’t place his finger on. He carefully walked towards the kitchen, still not seeing anyone but the scent was starting to get stronger. The alpha turned the corner to enter and was finally able to tell exactly where the scent was coming from.

Leaning against the fridge and eating an apple, was Wooyoung. Changbin froze at the sight of the beta. Changbin took notice of the state of the man. Wooyoung's nose was dark purple and he kept a bandage over it. He also had dark marks on his neck in the shape of fingertips. 

Wooyoung breathed deeply then snapped his head to face Changbin with a grin. This wasn’t his normal smile though, this time Changbin could see the villainous intentions behind it. 

“Hi Bin, I’ve been waiting for you.” He took another bite of the apple, the crunch making a shiver want to go down the alphas spine. 

“Wooyoung,” Changbin took a careful step towards him, eyes never leaving the man. “What are you doing here?” He kept his words low and said them slowly, trying to control the situation. 

The beta gave him a cheery shrug, obviously masking the pain the expression caused him due to his broken nose. “Thought I might come see my friend.  Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

“Wooyoung, what are you doing here?” Changbin had demanded, finding no amusement in the situation whatsoever. 

This time Wooyoung's face changed and his smile dropped. “ Let’s have a chat, like old times.” 

“We have nothing to talk about. I told you to leave me alone.” 

The beta took another bite from the fruit, “Come on Changbin, just hear me out. I have a proposition for ya.” That evil gleam sparkled in his eyes and he didn’t give Changbin a chance to respond before launching into it. “I -we- want you to join us. Be a part of our pack. I’ve told my head alpha all about you and he thinks you’d be a great addition.” 

“Your alpha?” Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically to his inquiry. “Who is your alpha?” 

“Hongjoong of course!” Changbin froze. His whole body was alight with trepidation and his eyes were wide. “He’s a great leader, you'll like him I promise. He said that since you're so strong you would do good in a strong pack- the others are mostly alphas so you’ll fit right in. Oh oh and you know the best part?!” He took another bite. Changbin could hear the manic exaggeration in his voice as he spoke, the man seemed to be unraveling mentally the more he droned on. “Joong said if you join us you can still fuck the omega whenever you want!” 

“No one is putting another finger on my girl.” The words came out before changbins brain could even catch up with all the things he had said, the only thing he registered was the mention of Baby. “You’re a fucking psycho if you think any of that is going to happen.”

Suddenly there was a loud scream from the floor above them, then a thundering pound as if something huge had fallen. Changbins eyes flickered to the ceiling then back to Wooyoung, who sighed in detest at the interruption. The beta glared at him and clicked his tongue. “Wrong answer.” 

The apple was forcefully thrown directly at Changbins face, the alpha yelling in pain when it made contact with his eye, the sweet juices splattering all over him. He wasn’t expecting the attack so his instincts made his hands shoot up to defend himself instead. Bin blindly reached his out to grasp at whatever he could and ended up cutting off Wooyoung's next attack by grabbing his arm that was flying at him. 

Wooyoung yelped when Changbin gripped his arm forcefully and yanked the beta to him. Changbin creaked his eyes open just in time to see another fist coming at him again, so he leaned forward quickly and managed to get a headbutt in on the beta man. 

The offender howled in pain when the crown of Changbins head smashed into his nose- the already broken appendage immediately starting to flow heavily. Wooyoung started to sway backwards but before he did he grabbed onto the alphas hair and forced him down to the ground with him. 

Another thudding crash was heard from upstairs then the sound of running feet spreading out around the second floor. All over the house a smell of blood spread around and it made Changbins own blood begin to boil. He needed to end this now. 

The alpha man threw his whole weight down on top of Wooyoung, knocking the air out of the beta. Wooyoung wheezed and was caught off guard; that's the moment Changbin took to wrap his thick bicep and forearm around Wooyoung's neck. Changbin did not let up for even a second on the pressure even as Wooyoung struggled and punched at him as he fought for air. 

“Just go to sleep!” He screamed at him and tightened the hold even more, efficiently choking the man below him. Soon enough his efforts paid off and Wooyoung's body fell limp in his hold. Changbin held position for another few seconds just to be sure it wasn’t a trick, then he rolled himself off of the beta with a groan. He could see that Wooyoung was not dead but he had passed out cold from the lack of oxygen.

Changbin breathed a brief sigh of relief as he scrambled to his feet and ran for the door. This was far from over. 

Your back was turned to the door of the greenhouse and your hands were busy digging another small hole for a sapling. ‘Genie in a bottle’ was still blaring through the speaker and you were humming along with the words and lightly dancing in your seat. 

An alpha presence was approaching from behind and you could hear the light steps as they neared. Changbin had only been gone for about a minute so you assumed it was him.  Your lips curled in a teasing smile and you called over your shoulder, “Well that was quick, don’t tell me you forgot my-” 

Your words were cut off as a hand embedded itself in your hair roughly and your head was forced back. Your hands shot to your head as you yelled from the shock and the pain. Your eyes were filled with tears as your face was yanked up and around to face the attacker. 

A man you recognized from your google search those few weeks ago before your escape was staring back at you with an unholy wickedness you had never encountered before. You gasped when he laughed at your obvious fear- his canine teeth were sharp and menacing as he licked over them as if tasting your fright.  

“Hello there, little omega.” You hated the way he said your presentation. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“H-hongjoong?” You whimpered as he craned your neck back further to look at him. You could feel the tension of his nails on your scalp as he yanked and it made you cry harder. 

“Ah,” He grinned down at you, “So you do know who I am. Perfect, that saves us some time.” He started to drag you out of the greenhouse by your hair, making you scream as you tried to pull back but it was no use and you were forced to be dragged along with him as you scrambled on your hands and knees. 

“How did you find me?” You cried, your legs scraping against the hard ground and creating bloody scratches along them. 

He tsked, amused by your question. “That fucking thief wasn’t as careful as he thought he was. He forgot I have connections everywhere, including the police. The second you confirmed as not missing I knew exactly where you were. Though I will say it took a little longer than I had thought it would to track you down to a point. Wooyoung is usually very good with his nose.” 

You felt your heart plummet in your chest and you couldn’t breathe. It all made sense now- the incident at the carnival was worse than you thought it was. He really did try to take you away. All for this alpha. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked with faux kindness, cooing condescendingly. “Aren’t you happy to see your true alpha?” 

“You are not my alpha!” You screamed, bringing your hands up to try to scratch at him. “Channie is!”

Hongjoong used the grip on your hair to toss you forward into the dirt, cutting up your skin even more and dirtying your dress. He still kept his brutal hold on your head as he dragged you. “ Show some respect. I paid good money for you, you dirty fucking whore. That sorry excuse for an alpha is going to pay with his life for trying to steal what’s mine. Just like your father did for letting you escape.” 

Dad is…

Your cries turned to sobs as you took in the severity of his words. Your father was dead- murdered by this man. It couldn’t be true.. It can’t be. 

“You’re lying!” 

He snickered at your devastation, finding enjoyment in watching you sob in both kinds of agony. He had finally gotten you through the threshold of the greenhouse. “I’m many things, dollface, but I'm no liar.” 

“What you’re going to be is dead if you don’t let her go right fucking now.” 

Your eyes were filled with so many tears you didn’t see who said it but you didn’t need to. You had heard the menacing threat in his voice before and it made you feel better- that you weren’t alone completely- even if the comfort was miniscule. 

Hongjoong scoffed from above you, “Big words for a pathetic little beta. You’ll get yours soon enough don’t you worry, so why don’t you scurry along, hm?” 

Minho's dark eyes were locked on Hongjoong, his body rigid and his fingers twitching. He was trying not to show his fear. No, he wasn't scared of Hongjoong necessarily; he was scared for you. And he was more angry than he had ever been in his life. 

The betas mind was racing and so was his heart as he tried to assess the best way to handle the situation. He had been at the garage a few yards from the main house when Chan called. After receiving the call from Chan he had wasted zero time in bolting for your location, seeking you out by scent when he heard your screams and cries. 

“M-min..” You cried harder, trying to crawl to him but getting yanked back forcefully by Hongjoong. 

“You’re not going anywhere, bitch.” The alpha growled. 

“You have three seconds to let her go.” Minho snarled, his face scrunching up as he bared his teeth in an attempt to threaten the alpha. “One..” 

“You can’t do shit to me, not when I have her in my hands.” Hongjoong sounded cocky as he shook your head. 

“Two..” 

Minho's eyes flicked to you then Hongjoong for a split second and that was enough for you to understand. Distract him. You balled your fists and started to swing at your captor with as most force as you could muster. You small fists hit at him and you yelled through your tears and your fear. You swiped at his skin with your nails and drew blood from the alpha, making him curse. 

“Stop it you fucking bitch!” He delivered a hard kick directly to your ribs and it knocked the air from you. But you would take it gladly if it meant Minho could do what he has to do. And it seemed like your distraction worked. 

While Hongjoong was momentarily distracted Minho was able to close the distance and he managed to strike Hongjoong right in his head. The alpha let go of your head in his surprise and Minho immediately reached for you and pulled you to him. 

“Run!” He yelled at you, “Get as far away as you can! Go!”

 Minho shoved you away from the scene just in time to dodge Hongjoong who had regained his composure enough to try and grab at you again. Minho tried to tackle the alpha but the man did not go down, instead he delivered a strike to Minho's stomach and tried to throw him to the ground but the beta held on and did not let him advance towards you. 

You were frozen in fear; not knowing what to do or how to help. Your body hurt and your scalp burned and your mind was racing faster than it ever had before. Just when you thought your knees were about to give out, Minho met your eyes, his own pleading and begging. Begging for you to run away from Hongjoong. From him. 

You blinked through your tears and gave a small nod, then you turned and ran. Or it was more like limping away, as you clutched your side where you had been kicked. 

Minho would have breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you run if it weren’t for the threat he still faced. The beta felt a hard kick to his knee as the alpha tried to get him off of him. Minho held back his grunt of pain as his knee gave out and he lowered slightly. 

Minho saw opportunity at his lowered position and rammed his head into Hongjoongs sternum, his arms wrapping around the man and he used his weight to push him to the ground. 

Hongjoong yelled in fury and slammed both hands into the back of Minho's head as he went down, “You son of a bitch!” 

Min saw a few black spots dot his vision and his head spun, but still he remained on task. He needed to eradicate the threat. Failure was not an option- no matter how badly it hurt. 

He was growling and pounding his fists into Hongjoong but the alpha was inherently stronger than him so he only managed to land two or three hard slams before he was being flipped over and his back was crashing to the dirt below. 

Minho instinctually put his arms up to cover his face as Hongjoong beat down on him. Hongjoong was using his alpha pheromones to try to intimidate the beta into submission- his musk reminiscent of burnt out matches and kerosine. The beta man held his breath and flipped his elbows up to make an attack with the points of his bone. 

He managed to strike the meat of Hongjoongs side, hitting hard enough to draw a howl from the man above him. He went to hit higher when he thought the alpha was taken aback but the ever vigilant alpha intercepted it and managed to turn his head quick enough to grab a hold of Minho's arm with his teeth. 

Minho screamed when he felt his flesh tear as he jerked his arm back. The bite was deep and immediately began to leak warm blood all over himself. Hongjoong took this moment to spring back up to his feet. 

Hongjoong was breathing heavily as he spit out the skin and blood right at Minho who was still lying on the ground. His own face was bleeding and the crazed look in his eye would be enough to send a grown man to the grave. It sent a frightened shiver down Minho's spine as he clutched his gushing arm. 

The beta managed to shuffle back a few feet; trying to put distance between himself and this villainous man. He left a trail of blood in the dirt as he scrambled back. He bared his teeth at Hongjoong and it made the alpha smirk- the blood all over his face covering his lips and making him seem even scarier. Minho knew something deranged was running through the alphas mind given by the psychotic glaze that overcame his eyes. 

“As fun as that was, I think it’s time to end this little scuffle.” Hongjoong reached under his jacket and pulled out a black pistol, and aimed it right at Minho. 

Minho kept his expression hard and his snarl steady, not giving anything away even though his life was flashing before his eyes. From what he knew and had seen of Hongjoong, he knew the crazed man would end his life with no hesitation. 

“Big bad alpha needs a gun to fight his battles, huh?” Minho spat at him, “Only a pussy brings a gun to a fist fight.” 

Hongjoong scoffed, then showed that bloody grin. “I don’t need a gun to kill you, but it does make it easier when I’m in a time crunch. Sorry I can’t stick around a little longer, Minho, but I have an omega to catch.” 

The alpha cocked the gun and aimed it at Minho's head. Even in the face of imminent death Minho stayed as steady as ever. The only regret he has is that he didn’t get to spend more time with the woman he loves- that he was too stubborn in the beginning and had wasted precious time with you. He would never regret the decisions leading to this moment though. He would die for you over and over again if it meant you could get away from this monster. 

Just as Minho had accepted his fate, suddenly there was a scream and a deafening ‘ding’ and Hongjoongs body was sent flying towards the ground. Standing behind the alpha -that now lay in the dirt clutching his head- was you. Was his baby. His love. And you were holding a large shovel that you had used to assault Hongjoong. 

With another loud scream you lifted the head of the shovel above your head and brought it down on the alpha again, bashing him forcefully with the metal using all the might in your body. Your blood was pumping harder than it ever had in your whole life. The only thing in your mind was to defend Minho from this terrible man, whatever it takes. 

You kept screaming as you clobbered him from above over and over and over again. Your whole body hurt and you could barely see through your tears but you didn’t let up. You didn’t stop even as blood began to pool in the dirt and Hongjoong was no longer moving. 

In fact you didn’t stop until Minho had gotten up from the ground and limped over to you, his eyes wide from the shock. 

“Baby..” He grabbed the shovel before you could bring it down for a final time and pulled it from your grasp, throwing your weapon to the ground. “He’s gone, you can stop now.” 

Instantly you flung yourself into him, wailing loudly and trying to get as close to him as possible. “M-min.. Y-you.. I-i.. Oh my god.” 

“M’ here, baby. You’re safe, it’s ok.” He tried to sooth you and keep you from seeing the body that lay in the dirt, curling you into him despite the pain in his still bleeding arm. 

“D-did I.. Did I kill him?” You were both shaking from your question and Minho didn’t know how to respond right away. “Oh my god I did, didn’t I? He -he had that gun pointed at you and I just panicked. All I felt was terror and then… I killed him. Fuck I’m gonna be sick.” You started dry heaving  but Minho shook you out of your panic. 

“Omega, you did what your instincts told you to do. You saved me. Even after I told you to run as far away as you could, you came back. You saved me, Y/n.” Minho felt his own tears finally falling down his face, the shock wearing off as he took in the severity of what had transpired. “I was supposed to save you and it was you who came to my rescue.” 

“I couldn’t leave you here alone with him! I could feel it in my gut he would have done terrible things to you, Min. I couldn’t leave you.” Even with the blood on his face he grabbed your head and kissed you harder than ever, pushing all of his gratification and love into it. You kissed back just as fiercely and melted into him. 

“I love you.” He whispered when he pulled away, closing his eyes as he held you. 

“I love you Min.” You whispered back. 

A horrible reminder flitted into Minho's mind at that moment. If Hongjoong was here, then that means the rest of his evil packmates probably won’t be far behind.

The pack is in danger. 

He pulled back and grabbed your hand, “I have to go, the other boys might be in trouble. I need you to hide in the greenhouse. Arm yourself and try to stay hidden.” You shook your head in protest, not wanting him to leave you, but he hardened his voice, “Y/n listen to me now. This is not the time to disobey me again. Thank you for saving me, but right now I have to go save them and I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you behind my back. Please, I’m begging you, go hide and don’t come out for anyone who is not a part of our pack.” 

You trembled as he handed you the shovel, not wanting to but nodding anyway. “Be safe, please Minho.” 

He nodded and sent you off into the greenhouse, then he turned and hightailed it to the house. 

Changbin had made his way through the house when the smell of the blood got thicker, and as he passed by the bottom of the staircase he was startled as a large body came careening down the steps, landing with a pained grunt at the bottom and his arm bent at an unnatural angle. 

Changbin yelled in fright at the sight of the unfamiliar alpha and without thinking delivered a hard kick into the man, who wheezed and rolled in pain. Changbin heard the scuffle of feet descend the stairs and was ready to fight again, but instead came face to face with Seungmin- who had his old baseball bat in his hand. Changbin could see the wood and Seungmin alike were splattered with blood. 

Seungmin had a borderline sadistic snarl on his lips as he greeted Changbins bewildered look, with one of his own. “What the fuck is going on?” 

Changbin smacked himself out of his shock, “I think we’re under attack by the Ateez pack.” 

Seungmin growled, “No shit, this is the second alpha I had to beat around. Though this one got off easier. His giant friend upstairs didn’t make it this far away from me.” 

“Two made it upstairs?” Changbin asked, peering around in panic. 

“No,” Seungmin smirked with an evil glint in his eyes, “It was three. The third one got his throat ripped out by Innie.” 

Changbin grimaced, “Fucking gross. Who screamed?” 

“Jisung screamed when he saw Jeongin tear that fuckers neck apart with his teeth.” 

“Understandable.” 

“Yeah it was pretty metal. That kid is feral I swear. Though Ji is traumatized now.” Seungmin checked the man on the ground and saw he was passed out cold by now, and gave him another smack with the bat with a sneer. 

The matter at hand suddenly came to both of them as they looked at each other. They had the same thought and both sprinted to leave the house to find you. Both boys raced outside to come upon a different scene. 

They ran out the door just in time to see another unfamiliar man - a beta this time- take a flying kick straight to the face by none other than Felix, with an extremely frightened Hyunjin cowering behind him, holding out his car keys as if they were a weapon. Both boys winced at the force with which the beta man thudded head first onto the concrete of the driveway, instantly knocking him out. 

Felix was out of breath and his hands were still up as he was ready to continue to defend his elder pack mate, but he was able to put them down when he saw that it was Seungmin and Changbin who had excited the house. “I-I don’t know what’s going on. We left to get more lemonade since Ji drank it all and we came back to this dude trying to attack us.” 

“He’s a member of the Ateez, there's a few more of them in the house. How the hell did you manage to take him down?” Changbin asked, coming around to check for injuries on the two betas. Hyunjin clung to him as he shook, needing alpha comfort. The two remaining boys that were inside finally came out to join everyone else, Jeongins face and neck were covered in the red liquid. Jisung clung to him in fear as he trailed behind, big eyes wet with tears as they frantically searched the surroundings. 

Felix furrowed his brow, “Did you forget I did Taekwondo for twelve years?” 

Yes..Yes Changbin had forgotten. Before he could respond, they all heard another pounding of feet coming their way very quickly. They all readied themselves for another attack but instead of another enemy coming around it was Minho. He was breathing hard and his whole body was covered in blood. 

He halted his running when he saw most of his packmates gathered together and none of them seemed injured much (besides the few hits Changbin had taken). 

“Thank god.” He breathed in relief. Minho could feel his body begin to sag to the ground, the adrenaline wearing off knowing they were here and were ok. 

Seungmin had sprung forward to catch the elder beta just before he hit the ground, “Woah buddy, I got you.” He lowered him as gently as he could. As much as he didn’t want to trigger Minho he knew he needed to ask the hard questions. “Who did this to you Minho? Where is Y/n?” 

Minho tried to stand, staggering to his feet as Seungmin held him up. “Hongjoong.. The-the green house..” 

Every single one of them stiffened at the mention of the dangerous alpha, but none of them could fly into action as the screeching of blaring sirens rang through the surrounding woods. Seconds later a barrage of cop cars and emergency vehicles flew onto the main property, followed by the familiar sight of Chan's car. 

Everything would be ok now. Their alpha was home. 

Chan got out of his car faster than lightning and he sprinted over to the pack. His eyes were wild and he was drenched in that all too familiar red. He scanned each one of his members and his gaze softened only slightly when he recognized that they were all alive. Then his eyes widened again when he didn’t see his mate amongst the crowd. 

“Where is she?!” He demanded, trying to pick up her presence but only getting the stink of blood everywhere around him. Chan had called the police and explained the situation to them while he sped down the roads, making it home in record time, so the officers were already fanning out and looking for the offenders. 

“The greenhouse.” Minho coughed, staggering that way. “She’s hiding in the greenhouse.” Chan wanted to help his pack mate but the urge to go to you and make sure you were safe weighed on him. Minho could see it in his eyes, “Chan.. You should know what sight you're about to walk in on..” 

The sirens in the distance spooked you, making you flinch and screw your eyes shut. Theoretically you knew that sirens meant police- meant help- but the irrational part of you couldn’t help but be fearful. Fearful of what had transpired right outside this greenhouse, what you had done to that man.  

You clutched your makeshift weapon tighter and you scooted back as far as you could under the table when you heard the thudding of footsteps drawing close to the greenhouse. The approaching person stopped outside where the body lay and you could hear the click of teeth. You held your breath and tried not to make a single sound as the person started walking slowly into the greenhouse. 

“Baby?” 

Your eyes flew open at the gentle sound of your alphas voice. 

“Ch-channie?” You called out weakly, slowly peering your head out from your hiding spot. You looked out to see your alpha, blood all over him and the most solemn look on his face. You crawled out of your spot and bolted for him, throwing your whole body at him and letting out the most devastating cry he had ever heard. “Alpha! Alpha m’ so sorry. M’ so sorry. I killed him. I killed him.” 

“My omega, you’re alright and that’s all that matters.” He buried his face into you and felt his own tears gather at the corner of his lash line. “My brave, strong girl. I got you, omega. Alphas got you.” 

“He-he hurt Min, I didn’t know what else to do. He said he killed my dad.” You kept repeating it through your cries. Chan could feel all your terror and agony through his claim and it made his heart split in two. The murder of your father was news to him and he kept his surprise hidden for your sake. He knew it would take you a long, long time to recover from this event. With a lump in his throat he scooped you up into his arms from off the ground, tucking you securely into him. 

He made sure to fold your head into his neck as he walked out of the greenhouse, making sure you didn’t see the body that remained on the ground- the police would come around soon enough and deal with the mess. Though he couldn’t help the vicious curl of his lips at the body of the alpha below. ‘That’s what you get for fucking with my pack.’ He thought cynically as he passed. 

He carried you all the way to the front patio of the house where the rest of the pack was getting questioned and wounds treated. Jisung was the first to see you both coming up and burst into tears, leaping off his seat and straight for you, wrapping you and Chan in his hug. 

“Baby, my baby.” He cried and he held you both. “I. was. So. scared.” He choked between sobs. 

You didn’t say anything as you stuck out an arm to pull him closer while being held still, not having it in you to respond right now. At the mention of you, each of the boys who weren’t being treated gathered around and you all held each other in a big group hug. The only one who couldn’t be included was Minho, for he was being patched up by an EMT by the ambulance. He bit his lip as he watched his pack together again, all safe. It made the pain he experienced worth it.

Chan lifted his head to spot the beta that was further away, both of them locking eyes as Chan got a good look at just how messed up his second in command really was. Carefully Chan handed your trembling body off to the member closest to you, which happened to be Jisung. The beta took you delicately and the rest of them continued to hold you and shower you with whispers of their love.

Each one of them could feel your sorrow and guilt as it seeped out of you in waves. Minho did his best to explain all that had transpired so they knew what you had gone through. They knew what you needed now was just for them to hold you and love you. And the hug pile allowed them to shield you from the various stretchers and body bags that were being taken from within the house. 

Chan walked over to Minho and eyed the large bandage that was being wrapped around his arm. He rested his hand on the betas shoulder, and crouched down to his level. He waited there for a moment while the EMT finished their work and gave Minho care instructions. The second the EMT walked away he grabbed the beta is an encompassing hug. 

Minho had seldom seen the alpha cry, but now as he held him he felt the drops of warm liquid fall into his shoulder and felt the shaking of the elders body. 

“Thank you, Minho. Thank you for keeping her safe.” Min clutched harder onto his pack leader and he himself began to wail at the sentiment. 

“When you called.. I ran faster than I ever had in my life.. And when I saw the hold he had on her and how she was crying…” They both growled at the thought of that fuckers dirty hands on you. “I didn’t know what to do..” 

Chan nodded and wiped the tears from his own face, “ Our omega got away from him because of you. I couldn’t have chosen a better second to run my pack.” The sheriff was sauntering up the pair with an exasperated look on his face. 

“Chan, the three of us need to have a conversation about what happened here today.” 

You winced as the medical professional dabbed at your wounds with alcohol and disinfectant. The elder beta woman gave you looks of sympathy after each one, muttering apologies yet continuing to treat you. Hyunjin and Jisung hadn’t left your side once, they stood behind and beside you as both of them scoured the area as if expecting more impending threats. Each of the other boys were giving statements since they were the ones to directly defend themselves and the pack. 

“You’re doing so well, baby. We are so so proud of you.” Hyunjin praised you with kisses to your head from behind. 

Jisung nodded, “Yeah, you are the most badass woman alive. I can’t believe I get to call you ours.” He rubbed his thumb comfortingly along your knuckles. 

You felt so numb you barely registered what they were saying to you, only nodding to their words and leaning further into their touch. By now you were littered with bandages to cover your knicks and scratches. Soon enough the woman bid you farewell- the boys thanked her vehemently for helping you- and you were left with just the guys. 

One by one each of the pack joined you back on the porch and you all watched as the officers and emergency vehicles cleared off the property. The only remaining one was the sheriff who was still a few yards away talking with the top two in command. 

You could see the sheriff clap both boys on the back before they all walked back up to where you sat. The sheriff leaned down and took his hat off as he addressed you. “I want to offer my apologies and my condolences about what has transpired. Not just here today but with your family as well.” 

The tears threatened to return when what he said registered for you. “You mean.. My dad is..” 

He nodded heavily, “I am so sorry, Ms.L/n. I had heard about it only this morning and didn’t get a chance to contact Chan about it.” Felix was the one to grab onto you as the sobs returned. The sheriff grimaced and hung his head, “Any information I have about it will be sent over to you pronto.” He addressed Chan. 

“Thank you, we appreciate it.” The old man nodded and bid you all farewell. 

For what felt like hours you all sat there together and comforted each other. Most of you were still doused in the offensive red liquid that has since dried on your skin but all that mattered is that even though you were dirty and traumatized you were there together. Your new family was together and whole and nothing- not even a psychotic alpha on a power trip- could break your new found family apart. 

You awoke with gasps for air and your body covered in sweat. You leaned forward and put your head in your hands, rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to rid your mind of the spine chilling images. Another night, another nightmare. It had been three weeks since the ‘incident’. Three weeks since you murdered- no not murdered- defended Minho against Hongjoong, and every night since then you have awoken from the terrifying dreams that plagued you at night. 

Chan felt you move and he stirred awake from beside you, yawning as he sat up and put his arm around you. “Bad dreams again?” He asked, his voice laced with sleep.

You nodded, and removed your hands from your face and grabbed his hand. “I can’t unsee it, Channie. No matter how hard I try I can’t get the image of Hongjoongs dead body out of my mind. And whenever I manage to let it go for a moment and go to sleep again it’s the same thing but then it’s my dads body. It’s never ending.” 

He sighed wistfully and kissed your head. He knew you needed sleep since you hadn’t gotten much lately and he could tell it was weighing down on you. So after searching his brain for a solution he came up with something that he thought would help you, at least for tonight. 

“I’ll be back in a second, baby. Go ahead and lay down.” You nodded again and laid back down in your spot. Chan got out of bed and quietly shuffled out of the room. After about five minutes he came back into the room, this time with another person trailing behind him. You squinted through the darkness to see who it was. “Min? What’re you doin?” 

Chan got back into his spot and Minho came around to your side and motioned for you to scoot over. “I’m coming to cuddle, what does it look like?” 

Ever since you and Minho had gone through that traumatic event together you had been finding comfort with him more often than you used to. It felt like now you were both more kindred spirits. Chan knew that having Min around would help you relax a little more. Tonight specifically you needed to rest; your fathers wake was tomorrow evening and you had to be up early so you could travel down to your hometown. Of course Chan would be accompanying you, along with Felix. 

A few days after the ‘incident’ Chan had reached out to your family on your behalf. Your mother sobbed when he told her you were alright and not with Hongjoong. It turns out your brother was taking over as head alpha of your old pack and he planned on changing a lot of things; starting with apologizing to you for your fathers attitude towards omegas and for not intervening when you had to be sheltered away. 

Your brother had invited you to your fathers memorial service and though you were apprehensive to accept the invitation Chan thought it would be good for you to reconnect with your family since he knew you had missed them so much. 

You scooted over and allowed the beta to slide into bed beside you. He got in and instantly you felt more relaxed at having him here. It wasn’t that you necessarily loved Minho more than the other boys, it was more like since he almost died at the hands of a psycho you needed to have him in sight so your omega brain knew he was safe- was alive. 

“Better?” The alpha asked once he was settled. You nodded and were overcome with a yawn. He chuckled and wrapped around you from the other side, sandwiching you between the two men. 

“I love you, Channie. I love you Min.” You mumbled before sleep found you again, this time with no nightmares. 

Welp... this is it, the end of the series. BUT this is not the full end of the story! I will be taking questions and doing little drabbles about my darling pack so please send your thoughts and questions 💕

Thank you to every single person who has read or interacted with my story i appreciate and love every one of you 🥰

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan 2024

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Choke On The Sun

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd known John ever since the Academy, and even after losing touch, the love you had for one another was never gone. Like a snake, it had stayed hidden in unseen places. But it was always there.

WORDCOUNT: 13.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, torture, detailed descriptions of torture i.e. electrocution, loss of a finger, gunshot wounds, knife wounds, discussion of torture, canon-typical violence, death, near-death experiences, guns, weapons, abductions, betrayals, intended for mature audiences, happy ending, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You remember a story you’d been told when you were a rookie—fresh off the cut and eager-eyed with far fewer scars. A more of a glass-half-full type of outlook on life, unknowing of what you’d experience during your years with the SAS: what choices you would have to make.

It went something like this. 

There was a herd of deer that had jumped over the side of a bridge. On either end of that bridge, there were two trucks with their high beams on—not moving but sitting there; the deer got pressured. Spooked. One by one they just…hopped over and died on the rocks below—no noise above the breaking of bone and the clatter of antlers shattering to pieces. 

You have to wonder if it was the fault of the first one who had jumped over for leading the rest to a quick end, or the drivers of the cars just trying to get where they needed to go; ignorant of the way they’d been ogling to see the panic in wide, black eyes. Either way, a whole herd of ten met their fate and left their bodies to feed the larvae and the birds. 

The story had been told over drinks at a pub, at the time you’d taken an interest in it with no more than a slow comment of ‘poor things’ before you’d brought your glass to your lips. You don't know why you’re thinking about it now. 

The timing could have been more opportune.

You send a bullet into the man’s kneecap, hearing the bone disintegrate and the flesh open like a flower. His scream follows, loud and hoarse—sobbing trapped behind a bitten tongue that drips blood down his chin. 

Hand snapping up, you grasp the lower half of his face with a grunt, head shoving itself forward until you lock onto fluttering eyes and get consumed by a whining sob.

“I asked you a question,” you lick your lips, tasting sweat as it slithers down your skin. Your voice is slow and even, grip tight. With a shove, you push back the man’s face, wrist limp with the Basilisk as you wipe at your nose with it, unblinking, when you get to your full height. 

The room wasn’t anything different from a million other black sites you’d been to. A single chair where your mark sits tied up, a desk that had been pushed to the wall, and a single door placed into the cracking foundations of a concrete wall. No windows. No vents. 

Hotter than hell, too, and that place was something you were acutely in tune with. 

“Anthony,” you say, waving your free hand as the scent of blood gets stronger, pools of it already on the hard floor. “I’m gonna call you Tony, alright?” 

Tony yells, wrenching his arms against the zip-ties and screaming until his voice is hoarse. 

“Damn you! I told you I don’t know anything!” He sobs. “My leg—I can’t feel my leg, oh, God it hurts.”

You frown, glancing at the door. 

“Stop lying to me,” you look back, eyes unblinking in the low light. “You still have one left—tell me where your buyer is and I let you keep the ability to walk upright with a cane.” 

“I don’t know his name—!”

“I don’t need a name, Tony,” you growl, irritated. “I need a location.”

“Copenhagen!” He wails, body spasming and hair dancing atop his head. “The warehouse is in Copenhagen, please, that’s all I know!”

You blink. 

“Denmark?” You mutter, brows furrowing. 

“Fuck!” Tony screams long, his skull tilting forward as he releases his guts to the floor through quick gasps. Backing up a step to stay out of the spray, you watch him silently; thinking. The flood of the man’s crimson fluids ripples. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Denmark,” grumbling to yourself once more, you shake your head and sigh aggressively. “Of course.” 

Without another glance, you turn and exit the room, pushing your Basilisk into its holster as the gear on your chest clinks lightly like the sound of rain hitting a metal roof. The door closes behind you, voice calling to one of the guards as he looks up quickly. His face is pale. Tony’s wails still echo out; water filling a bucket. 

“Get a medic,” is what you settle with—slipping past on a fleet foot and new intel to pass on to Laswell. She’ll be intrigued, no doubt. 

One step closer, your mind hisses to you. Just a little bit longer.

It’s too late to gain a conscious now.

Emmett Kinsman had been dodging you for years—dodging the Task Force—but with one of his suppliers giving away a location you’d been unable to pin, there was hope for a swift resolution to this mess. 

The radio on your chest sizzles to life.

“Hart, sit-rep. How’s it lookin’ on the black site.” Kate’s American accent leaks into the earpiece attached to you, the cord looping the back of your neck and inserted into the shell; a device of black metal and plastic. 

“I have a location for Kinsman. Copenhagen,” you ease out, moving a finger to the earpiece and pressing. Glancing at the rows and rows of doors in this endless hallway of dark smoke and obsidian mirrors—you’re eager to get your boots to the ground. Your other hand snatches at the rag swinging from your belt, taking it out and rubbing at your face with it until the stain of oil and flecks of blood smear like frosting on a cake. “Where are the boys? I need to be wheels-up to meet them ASAP.”

“Coming to you.”  

“They’re here?” Your face twists as the words settle in, confused. “Why? Thought they were tracking another lead in Romania.” 

Kate’s voice is smooth in your ear, moving like water as you turn a corner, stuffing your rag back into your belt. 

“Are you surprised?” The woman jokes in a monotone; you’d only taken it as such because you knew her dry state of humor. “Really, Hart, you know he can’t stop until you’re back at his side. I was going to tell you sooner, but you were…occupied.” 

Your feet pause for a moment at the beginning of her sentence, instinctual heat moving the length of your neck until you clench your jaw and continue onward at a slightly slower pace—eyes narrowed on the floor ahead of you. 

“It isn’t like that, Kate,” you mutter. A low hum echoes the line and you fight a scowl as a group of soldiers walk past. Itching at your forearm, you shake your head. “John just likes having everyone together on missions like these. If it had been different, I’m sure he would have told me to fly back to them regardless of the intel. We’re tight on time.” 

“I’ve known you both for more years than I can remember,” Laswell sighs. “Don’t try that with me, Captain.” You frown, clicking your tongue. “They’ll be arriving on the tarmac—get ready for a quick exit. We need Kinsman by month’s end.” 

“Copy,” you utter, removing your hand from the earpiece and glaring ahead of you. A still-air silence envelopes the hallway, the only sound of your boots to the concrete and the reverberation that booms after. 

It was so quiet here. 

John Price—Captain Price—and yourself had a… complicated history. You’d joined up together; gotten through SAS selection neck-and-neck until time and its grubby fingers had forced your lives in different directions. Like two vines of reaching ivy, it had only been three years ago that you’d seen the other again, though you’d heard stories as you’re sure he had about you. 

Hart: not the kind that beats but the kind that bleats, you had to explain to most—you weren’t unknown to the darker side of the job and the people that specialized in it. Your file was stretched with so much black ink that when you’d gotten the call on your phone, an unknown number, you’d recognized the gruff voice behind it and the first question you’d asked was how the hell he’d gotten clearance to track you down. 

“No hello, then, Hart?”

“Not one for pleasantries, John. Explain. Quickly.”

“Business as always.” He’s wasted no time, voice going to a low grumble over the line that day. “Laswell took in a favor. You’ve been busy, Love…Room for one more joint-Op?”

It hadn’t panned out to only ‘one more joint-Op’. 

After the mission was over, it had been raining on base. The sky had shed tears from clouds deeper than the gray shades of your gear, splattering packed dirt and concrete. Above your head, the thin overhang off of the armory door had spared you some of it, but when the wind had shifted your clothes absorbed specks of water like spots on a fawn. Your eyes had been looking out—expression open. 

When the man exited the building and came up beside you, you both didn’t speak for a long time. You had been aware of his form, devoid of vest and gear, while yours was still layered with it to the utmost degree. You’d expected to leave that night—a good old-fashioned Irish Goodbye with a C-17 already waiting for you to board. To carry you off to another hellish deed done with ravaging cruelty for the sake of people who would never even know you existed.

The storm had stopped you…or, maybe something else had.

“Good to see you again, Hart,” John had stated, still not looking over at you as his arms had crossed, feet situating themselves. “Been too long.”

You had stayed silent—watching. The drain across the street was flooded. Sticks and leaves stuck at the drain as a whirlpool formed; only dangerous to bugs and the bits of garbage blown in by the wind. 

Only after the wind shifts again did you speak.

“And what has John Price been up to in that time?” Your eyes had slid to stare, piercing in the low illumination of the armory’s outside light. 

A huff of a chuckle, the one you’d remembered in the days of selection—coated in mud from crawling through man-made trenches and a sharp smirk of a snap when the barbed wire had grazed his back. 

There were too many stories here. Too many. So many it became impossible to wonder what could have been and what couldn’t—all that existed were the little moments of fondness.

The two of you were nothing else but souls long past redemption; stuck on that knife’s edge and waiting for the hand to shake and send you through it. 

You are made of memories. 

“That’s a story told over bourbon,” John’s lips had flickered, and you’d blinked slowly, head tilting. “Not anything worth reliving, yeah?” 

“Everything is relivable, Captain. You just need to find a reason as to why.” 

The man had nodded his head your way, conceding with his blank eyes ahead to the rain. A rumble of distant thunder had flown out, making your ears twitch. You couldn’t stop watching him now that you had the chance—the brunette strands; the fatigues, and that accent. The muscle you don’t remember him having in that specific place all those years ago. The wrinkles on his forehead from age and stress are shown in yours as a mirror. 

Tall; formidable. 

There was a tension in the air that you chose not to dwell on—the same that had been brewing for as long as you’d known him. 

“I want you to join up with me,” the sudden comment had made your body tense, eyes snapping away. In your pockets, your fingers twitch with surprise. 

“Join?”

“Thought I’d catch you before you disappeared again, yeah?” A sheen of slight embarrassment is over your skin. John chuckles again. “Extend a formal offer—Laswell was the one who suggested it.”

“Well,” you’d huffed, licking your lips. “Now I’m surely not accepting.” 

“Let me fuckin’ finish, Love,” John’s lips were pulled in a slight smirk—beard shifting. A pause as the wind whips again, shaking the trees before he grunts. “One-Four-One. My Task Force. Been thinking I’d need someone like you, but I knew you’d never agree to it.”

“Oh?” Your brow raises. 

“Not bloody stupid.” He sighs. “Thought I’d ask anyway. Give you a proper goodbye if you weren’t so keen on handing it out.”

“I don’t like goodbyes,” you mutter, hearing John’s feet shift—his boots scraping. 

“I know.” It’s low and even—not a prod or a dig. An observation. 

A hand is moved out to you, hovering. 

There isn’t any need for words when you glance down at it, and then up at him; staring into those blue eyes that so perfectly illustrate the hues of a roaring river, hidden away in the confines of a verdant forest.

A slow smile pulls at your lips, and you see the corner of the man’s eyes soften.

“Knew I’d get one out of you again,” he mutters as you slip your hand into his, a firm and all-encompassing heat of flesh and care. 

“Don’t get used to it, John.” Shaking his hand, you smirk, legs shifting. 

“Never,” he chuffs, squeezing your limb. 

You don’t know why you stayed under that overhang with him that night. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to explain it as you had looked up and seen the C-17 fly off without you in its cargo hold, hands resting on your vest collar and blue eyes watching you, slightly narrowed. 

You never even verbally told him you were sticking around…it had happened like a stray cat under the porch of your childhood home; taken in and cared for. Just the same, John never mentioned it beyond paperwork. 

Shaking your head, you blink back to the black site, turning that last corner and making it to one of the exits. Pushing the metal-reinforced door open, you shift outside and move a hand to cover the glare of the setting sun from your eyes, grunting. 

Laswell’s voice peaks back in as you jog toward the far-off body of a whirling plane, three figures just managing to walk down the ramp. 

“Hart? It’s Laswell.”

“Copy,” you say, knees taking the brunt of the heavy items you carry in pouches and have strapped to your form. “What is it?” 

“The Task Force is a go for Denmark—when you get there, I need everyone searching; we can’t lose him again.”

“Affirm. I’m on it, Kate.” You breathe. “John and I’ll get him. It’s personal for us, you know that.”

“That I do. Make sure to keep your heads on with this, Hart. Out.”

You lick your lips, nodding even if she can’t see you. 

Slowing as you near the plane, friendly smiles spark up from the two Sergeants. Gaz comes over, grasping at your shoulder and speaking above the engine behind him. 

“Ma’am! Good to have you back.” Soap chuckles, tilting his head your way as you grasp Kyle’s forearm—squeezing in greeting with a twinkle in your eye.

“Surprised to see us?” The Scot calls. 

You scoff. “Laswell gave you up.”

“Damn,” Kyle moves back, fixing the cap atop his head and glancing back at his fellow Sergeant. Simon nods from behind the two to which you respond in like. “She bloody betrayed us.” 

“Not as much as Kinsman,” the mood sours; lips thinning as you speak firmly. “Where’s John?” 

“Right here,” the man in question comes down the ramp, blue eyes meet yours. A second of inspection passes, eyes from both parties flickering up and down forms for any mistreatment—any ailments. “Kate already told me. We’re leaving now that we have you.”

Bumping Simon’s fist with yours as you pass him, you ascend the ramp, Soap muttering under his breath about the flight time from behind. 

Standing beside John, you pause like a bird, eyes half narrowed. “You didn’t have to pick me up, you know? I could have gotten another plane.”

The man the same rank as you hums, making sure the men are all inside and taking one last look out to the black site, eyes missing nothing down to the concrete structure to the lights that will soon illuminate the pure nothingness of the fields of this area.

“Wait time would have put us back.” Tiny eyes blink, a hand coming up to rest on his collar as his face shifts to you. “You good?”

“Always,” you mutter without hesitation. “Nothing from Romania, then?”

He grumbles, clenching his jaw and taking in your words. “Negative.”

A silence settles in which you quirk your brow—a small flicker of a smirk makes him turn away and stalk back into the hull, grunting in annoyance. You follow on silent feet. 

“That’s it? It must have been horrible, then. Care to explain?” 

“Get in your seat, Captain.” 

You hold back a low chuckle, walking beside him until you both come to the back of the plane—easing back into the hard plastic, you huff as you clip in your seatbelt. 

It’s all relative silence until the large metal beast is in the air; everyone's bodies shifting as the floor evens out. John and you take long breaths and, feeling the occasional jostle of the plane, you occupy yourself by picking at the dried blood all over your hands as the flight begins—Tony’s blood. 

Blue eyes blink down at you, watching from the side.

“He know anything important?” You stifle a yawn on your lips, one hand coming up to cover the open-jawed expression of tiredness. 

Glancing, you shrug with a slow response of, “Only a location. Even then I don’t know if it’ll pan out like we want it to, John.”

Everyone had been hoping for more, but they also knew that you were the best at interrogations and information retrieval. If you had called it that the man only knew a city and nothing else, John wasn’t one to question you. He knew better. 

A large hand shifts to grasp your right bloody one, picking it up and bringing it to his lap. You let him do it without protest, shoulders loosening at the roughness of his calluses moving across yours until the familiar ritual begins to take part like a black mass. 

Fingers twitching, you hear a hum as John takes out a rag from his pocket, opening it with a flick of his wrist. Moments later, the water bottle on the seat next to him is taken and the droplets that are left are scattered like rain over the fabric until they absorb. 

“All dirty, Love,” he grumbles as your eyes soften, watching him trace the lines of your palm with the wet rag—dabbing away the beads of red. Watching, you listen as he continues. “We’ll figure it out, eh?”

Blue locks with you, holding your gaze until the permanent set of his brows slowly loosens. “We will,” he reaffirms firmly.

“...I should have shot him when I had the chance,” you whisper to John, words low and tone nothing more than a mouse’s murmur; a small pebble hitting the ground. “Don’t lie and say it wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re going to fucking ruin yourself with that, Hart.” He advises, his cleaning of blood coming to a slow halt. “You did what you thought was best,” John leans in closer, not blinking as you try to move your head away with a half-hidden scoff. A damp hand grabs lightly at your chin, shifting it back as you blink in mild shock into John’s face. He doesn’t falter. “It’s all any of us can do, yeah?” 

As if it were nothing, he lets you go and shifts his focus back to cleaning your hand. You watch for a long moment, oblivious to the elbows hitting sides from farther down the hull, quick glances tossed between Sergeants and a Lieutenant who quirks a brow under his mask, huffing a sound in his throat.

“If I had,” you force back the stutter in your voice. “More people would still be alive.”

“Maybe,” John tilts his head, the rag brushing the length of your fingers. “Maybe not. We don’t know that, do we? No use wasting our breath talking about it then. What matters, Hart, is how we fix this.”

You sigh, repressing a shiver as his thumb brushes scars and blemishes, moving like moss over stone. 

“And we don’t leave our bloody problems for the next poor bastard, do we?” You puff air from your nose, shaking your head at the smirked comment. You watch John’s beard move with it—taking in the crinkling of his eyes and the way his knee hits yours. 

“Wonderful pep-talk, Captain.” You lean your head back against the netted sides of the aircraft, letting your eyes flutter shut; oblivious to the way he watches you. “The service is lost on you—therapist is right up your alley.”

“Fuck’s sake,” John scoffs. “I’d sooner go back to the academy than that.” 

“The food was utter shite, wasn’t it?” You agree.

“No need to bring it up,” John comments lowly, amusement thick in his words. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you do know that the pressure around your limb stayed there for a long while—the rag moving over every sliver of skin until only the base was left behind; like a painter creating an ocean scene, shrouded in mist, every bit of red was gone. 

Your dreams are plagued by Emmett Kinsman. His sharp face; his sly eyes and his knack for being undetected.

He’d been a part of your and John’s class in the Royal Military Academy—when all was done, he’d graduated and begun to serve in the 22nd SAS Regiment just as the both of you had. There was never much interaction there, beyond shared drinks and a few good words, a single operation, but the bonds of brotherhood run deep. If given the chance over any deployment or service, John or yourself would have given your lives for him—for the boy you’d bled and persevered with to a point of utter loyalty akin to beasts; unrestrained by any threat of violence, sharp attitude, or past faults.

And in the end, he’d thrown that all away to get into bed with terrorists. 

Location: London, England

Time: 1718

Operation: ‘Purple Cloth’

Your eyes rest behind the glass of the bookstore, gazing out over the street from the second floor with a level of new-found skill and a surety in yourself. Fresh off the cut, you aren’t overly eager for this, but you’re assured in your abilities. 

There can be no failure.

Emmett is down below, sitting at a café and sipping tea as John is stationed at a building farther down the street; waiting. Another man, directly relaying information to Emmett, is at the café as well, sitting in the corner reading a newspaper and facing the individual you’re supposed to follow. Only the four of you for this, and you’re not overly familiar with half of them. John was your only shining grace. 

“Target’s getting the bill,” you shift your head into the collar of your shirt, muttering. “He’ll move soon.”

“He carrying?” John’s voice slithers in, a soft murmur. 

You stare, expression lax at the large body that shifts and stands with a tight shirt on, waving off the barista when she tells him to have a good day. “If I had to guess? Negative. Nothing big—no bulge at his spine. At the very opposite end, I’d say an X13 could be concealed and accessed via a slit in the pant’s pocket and in a holster at his thigh. They’re baggy enough for it, but the draw time’ll be longer. Drug runners are sloppy.”

John grunts, and you address Emmett. “How are we doing, Mate?” 

A smooth, suave, tone moves into your ear. “Not too bad, Sweet Thing. Else, I'd be better if you were sharing a drink with me before I disappear.”

“Only in your imagination, Kinsman,” John interrupts, unimpressed drawl taking your attention. “Keep on it.” 

“I swear I rank the same as you, Price. Where do you get off ordering me around like your dog?” The comment is so easily dismissed as a joke between comrades that there’s no hostility there.

“Since I was given oversight,” the amusement is easily taken in John’s voice. “I’m the one keeping your arse alive, eh?” 

The other addition to your team speaks up, a voice that in the future you’ve already long forgotten. He says to cut the chatter, and you have to agree. 

Emmett and the target are nearing an alley. 

“I’m heading down,” you utter, already turning and heading to the stairs, swiftly moving down them and exiting the building. 

“Copy,” John’s voice fizzles the line. “I’ll head them off.”

“Emmett,” you move to link up with the fourth member of the team as he joins at your side, both of you sharking a glance and a jerk of your heads. “Keep him away from civilians. We can’t deal with casualties in this populated of an area.”

“He won’t have a chance to shoot them,” the comment makes your brows furrow, the tone not a cocky gloat but rather...quiet. A moment of silence wafts out. “What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Kinsman?” You frown tightly, your gut swirling with something unidentifiable. The X12 in the back of your baggy sweatshirt is heavy—suddenly ten times more so. 

In the corner of your eye, you see John far across the way shift, leaning before on a trash can, now standing upright. You swear you lock eyes with him, both gifted in all sense when it comes to war. Perhaps it was ingrained into both of your DNA—a knowledge of all things deadly; of threats unseen. Some primal and horrible understanding spanning back to when man had first raised a fist to another. 

“Oi,” your voice pushes. “What does that mean?” Feet pivoting, you move closer to the alley where the light shade of hair disappears. 

The line is silent. 

Silent before a loud gunshot rings.

Birds scatter, and you instinctively duck down, hand snapping to your service weapon as your eyes go wide. Head snapping about, you dash to the alley opening above the screaming; pushing past fleeing people.

“Hart!” 

“He’s in the alley!” 

“Do not engage until I get there, do you hear me?!” You’re already at the entrance, X12 ahead of you, and the safety flicked off with a heavy finger. “Hart!”

The body of your mark is on the ground—a bullet in the back of his skull. 

“Fuck!” You shout, feet slapping the concrete as you zoom past. “Price—target’s down, Emmett shot him in the damn head, on his tail now.”

“Fucking hell.” The man is growling out at you, voice heated.

Your eyes snap this way and that, weapon at the ready as you take a sharp turn. At the very end of the opening, you see him. 

Kinsman slips his service weapon back into the base of his spine, pulling at his shirt to cover the grip as a mass of the crowd is just behind him. He rushes quickly on long legs. 

“Emmett!” Your voice makes him freeze. There’s a long pause before anything is spoken; you have your sights trained—a perfect line-up to the roundness of his skull. 

“I had hoped to be fast enough,” the man tells you, head tilting to the side, ��but I should have known you’d move head-long into danger without backup.”

“Hart,” John’s voice nearly startles you from the line. “Sitrep, now!”

“Why would you do that, Emmett?”

“There’s more to this than being pawns, Hart,” Kinsman growls at you. “I play my game right, I always come on top. I needed to earn their trust; our target had a price on his head and no one else could get as close as me. Well,” he pauses, “us.”

“I’m taking you in,” you grit your teeth, hands tight on the gun. You don’t even want to think about what he means by ‘their’ or his ‘game’. It was always word puzzles with this man—one second you had the right piece, and the next the entire picture had changed like sand in the waves of a tide.

“Are you really that torn up about a drug runner?” A scoff makes you hold back a snarl, but your resolve is shaking. This was a man you had trusted—now fast can something that was forged with steel break?

“He was just some filthy nobody, Hart.” Emmett starts walking into the crowd ahead of him, and in your mind you know if you take that shot you run the risk of shooting an innocent civilian. “I’ll be more than a nobody. Or a grunt soldier. People are going to know me.” 

Bodies flee quickly—screams. Mothers, children, husbands.

Kinsman smirks, and as your finger tightens on the trigger, he’s already swallowed by the hoard. 

“I’ll be seeing you.”

John and you sit in the safehouse, for a moment, surrounded by quiet and the smell of hot tea. One week in Denmark, and you have no leads. The other three are away, sleeping in the rooms down the hallway. 

“You’re still thinking about him,” John speaks up, eyes on you. It’s blunt, but that was just how he was. 

You peek your eyes open slowly, your body slouching in the chair and feet outstretched under the table. Your boot lightly touches John’s own. A long sigh exits your nose, grumbling on your tired lips. 

“John,” you level, drawing the name out like the years of your life. A thin warning. 

The man clenches his jaw slightly, bringing up his cup and taking a slow slip. You see the flesh of his throat bob with the liquid as it goes down, the overhead light of the kitchen only a single bulb of warm glow. 

“Been chasing him for years, Hart,” he says when the item is back to the woodgrain. Voice a deep murmur—a scrape of vocal chords. “We both have.”

“He knows too much,” you reply. “I can’t let him get away again. Strategies, operators, everything.” Your eyes shift as your head raises, blinking away the sleep in your glinting orbs. “For years he’s been under our nose, getting away with who knows what—”

“Hart,” your rant is interrupted, and you stop with a snap of your teeth. Blue eyes lock a concerned sheen to them. “Breathe.” 

Your face moves away, arms loosely crossed over your chest tensing. 

John’s body shifts to you, leaning forward until his elbows are resting on his knees. He stares, brows a line on his flesh. You send a swift glance, lips pulling. 

“...Stop that,” your voice murmurs, echoing off the walls of the kitchen. John blinks, not speaking as you move in your seat. The man tilts his head, a slow something making his lips go back slightly. Gradually, your face goes hotter, blinking at him a few times; sucked in like a fox to a trap. “John, quit it.”

“M’not doing anything, Love.” 

“Bullshit,” you try and glare at the looseness of his expression, his smirk that makes your gut tighten. Goosebumps move up your arms. “You’re a horror.”

A low chuckle wafts out, John shrugging casually before he leans back. 

He takes up his cup again and takes down the last of the remnants. “Go to sleep,” hits your ears as your pounding heart takes a breather. It’s a grumble on the air—not as much an order as it is a suggestion. “It’s late.” 

You decide to sip at your own drink as well, eyes drooping at the steam that wafts around your face, nose twitching to the scents. 

“You?” John hums, looking you up and down; seeing the fatigue you carry. You’d been relentless for the week you’d all been here, holding the few strings of the lead you had to your chest—five-fingered grasping with a desperate prayer to all things unholy.  

“I’ll be here.” You tilt your head his way, eyes still half-closed in your seat. Your answer is easy, pushed out in a slow sentence. 

“Then so will I.”

John sighs under his breath. It’s a moment before an exasperated chuckle moves through your earbuds. You smile, eyes slipping closed fully. 

Yet, they startle back open as the cup is taken from your hands, your chair moved back firmly. 

“Up you get, then,” John grunts, and his arms snake around you. Blinking quickly, your jaw is slack as you get taken up into a tight carry; John’s chest firm and your nose brushing the side of his chin. 

Air getting sucked into your lungs, you stifle a hitch in your breath. 

It’s only after he starts walking forward, hiking you farther up into him, and his fingers gliding over your clothes, that you start to relax. His heat seeps like a warm fire.

Head sagging to the side, you grumble into his neck as you miss his eyes looking down at you, eyes soft in a way only you would have been able to see. “Can walk, y’know.”

He hums, head shifting back to the hallway as he carries you to the last door on the right, bumping into the wood with his shoulder and shifting to walk in sideways so you don’t let your legs on the frame. 

“Remember Preu? 05’?” John asks you, moving over to the bed and setting you down slowly, a tiny huff exiting his mouth. Your body sinks into the mattress, head to the pillow as your hand comes up to rub at your eyes. The man moves to grab the blanket at the end of the bed—knowing your trained habit of sleeping atop the comforter on operations; not tangled up in sheets just in case. He slips off your boots. “Carried you two miles.”

“I recall it,” you grunt, a tired flicker coming to your lips. “Bleeding out and all.”

“Well,” John hums, quirking a brow. “Wasn’t about to let my Hart die on me. Blood was the least of my worries.” 

Your pulse flutters at the title, even if it’s just your codename and not the beating muscular organ inside of your breast. 

My Heart.

But it’s never that simple. 

A hand moves up your cheek, a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

The both of you already know you love each other. It wasn’t a secret. You were smart; eyes sharper than a blade—you caught the way he watched you, saw the softness of his expression, and felt the drag of his hand. Just as he caught the way you stayed beside him, an ever-present pair of eyes watching his six. The content nature that only you showed him. 

With feet so eager to leave at any moment, it said much that you chose to exist near him simply because you wanted to. 

You loved each other. 

Boil it down, and you’d both known even back in the Academy that it would be the two of you at the end of all things. The rivers said your name. The valleys rustled with the breeze of your breath. You saw John in the bits of water that sloshed the rocks and in the earth beneath your palms. 

Over the years you’d been apart, the yearning hadn’t been any less sharp—any less potent. In every birdsong, the echoes of the other's voice flew and disappeared on wingbeats. In everything that existed, there was a fraction of what should be. 

What should be. 

“John,” your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a rustle of a cloth. He keeps his lips to your forehead, resting there for a moment against all sense and responsibility. John’s eyes droop down, lashes resting on the swell of his cheeks. “You know I love you.”

He takes a breath. Rain is in the air—the movement of a storm’s wind. A leaving C-17. 

It’s a low mutter into your flesh.

“I know.” 

You grasp at his wrist, pulling lightly. Without a noise, John slips in beside you, kicking off his boots with a single clop of the soles to the wood and the movement of your blanket. He grunts, pushing his nose into your scalp, arms going around your middle. Your head slots under his chin, lips to his Adam’s apple.

The house is silent beyond the murmur of the pipes—the buzz of awaiting electricity. 

So many memories. So many lost dreams. It was akin to two skeletons lying in a grave of their own making, forever holding the bones of the other. Duty and honor are etched into the fractures. 

But he still holds you, he still murmurs into your ear, “Sleep, Love.”

“And you?” You ask, mirroring the conversation in the kitchen.

John’s lips move along your flesh, moving into a soft smile as he glances down at you. His beard scrapes you delicately.

“I’ll be here.”

Then it is here you’ll stay, dreaming of deer and the way nothing could compare to how he held you in his arms.

—

“I have eyes on,” your head snaps up, blankly staring ahead as your fingers hover over the hanging beads of a wind chime. You stand outside of a restaurant in the heart of Copenhagen. 

Laswell had sent in more eyes for the Task Force to use—local soldiers that knew the layout of the city better and where would be a good place to look. For days you’d been moving through the streets; far-off storage units and hidden buildings providing fruitless harvests. Anthony had said a warehouse, but that was panning out as nothing as well.

False information? Possibly, but unlikely. The man had been genuine in his pain and pleading, and it only served to confuse you more.

You had Gaz with you and five others, taking over as the leader of this fireteam while John headed the other with Johnny and Ghost. They were on the opposite side of the city, and you can’t help but compare this to the moment Emmett had become an enemy. 

But divide and conquer was the only option in times like these.

Emmett had become someone, just as he said he would. The man was in charge of supplying arms to terrorist organizations all over the world, and with his knowledge of how the SAS operates as well as any number of special forces, he’d utterly disappeared off the radar.

A wraith of lies and murder.

He had locations all over the globe with his goods, shipped out for money and power. 

And now you have a positive ID.

“Where are you,” your voice is hard and stiff, the body already moving back from the chime and leaving its little bits and bobs swinging. 

“Café down the street,” feet nearly locking together, you continue down the street to where you know Gaz’s last position was. “He’s just…sitting there.” A pause. “You want to know what it’s called in English, Ma’am?”

“The café?” your brows furrow, jogging across the street. 

“‘The Warehouse.’” Growling under your breath, you shake your head and send a curse into the air after a pause.

“I think the man thought he was clever,” Kyle’s voice is smooth and teasing. 

“Should have shot his other leg,” you grunt. “You told Laswell? John?”

“Negative, I’ll get on it—”

“I’ll do it,” you interrupt. “Tell the others to group up at your position and spread out to create a choke point; we can’t let him get away.”

“Rog. Will do.” 

You patch into John’s frequency.

“We have him,” you instantly breathe out. “Down Holbergsgade—café called ‘The Warehouse’.”

It’s swiftly that an answer hits you. “Get him surrounded, we’re coming.” 

Your heart is moving rapidly, fast in your chest as you pass people and business quickly. You didn’t like this—didn’t like the similarities, the…nostalgic dread that builds. A café of all places? Sitting down? Waiting?

It was so ironic it made alarm bells go off.

“John,” you lick your lips, glancing at faces as they pass. “I think he knows we’re here.”

“Explain.”

“A café?” John’s low grunt lets you know he understands. “Just sitting there? He knows—he’s not dumb enough to throw away all of his secrecy just as we so happen to get here and begin looking for him.”

“How sure are you?” The man takes your words into account, and you hear his breath puffing as he runs to your location. 

“Ninety,” you breathe. 

“Then I’m callin’ it off.” Your eyes widen, feet skidding as you come to a stop. 

You have no clue as to how far John will go to keep you safe—even if it means potentially letting one of the SAS’s highest HVTs go. There wasn’t anything that could compare to the thought of you getting in harm's way. Not you. 

John had spent his whole life watching soldiers die in the worst ways possible; they haunted his dreams and he knew they’d follow him to his grave—men he’d led down paths that they never should have been on. 

Not you. 

Losing you would break what little was left of him, the remnants held on by tape and sheer stubbornness. One of the last old faces he could still look at anymore; could draw comfort from in the thin hours. To hold and to love. 

You both knew you wouldn’t stand for it.

“No,” your voice cuts across, monotone. “I’m not allowing that.”

“Bloody hell, Hart, listen to me—do not,” John growls, making your spine tingle, “go after him. If he knows we’re fuckin’ here, we need to pull back and close off the area.”

You’re walking forward, that same pressure of a gun at the back of your spine. It was almost poetic. 

A thought sparks. Years of knowledge and understanding lighting up. 

Emmett was a snake. 

A snake that liked to play games and prove points; greed stuck into his brain for reasons you can’t quite say for certain. Even if you did catch him, he would never tell the locations of his goods or the buyers.

But there was one way to find out. One way this might turn.

“There’s a tracker in my arm,” you speak, growing more sure of your actions with every fast movement of your body. The café is just up the street, and a head of blonde hair is a knife to your vision. “I asked Laswell to insert and monitor it years back when I had to infiltrate a cell before I joined up with you again. Cautionary procedure since I had to forgo my rig and gear.”

A sharp bark. He knew what you were insinuating. “Hart!” You were going to get yourself taken hostage.

“Get Kate to watch it, John.” You move off his frequency before he can comment again, half of a roaring refusal cut off. Speaking to Gaz with a restricted throat, you say, “Kyle?”

“Right here, Ma’am.”

“Good. Don’t engage—I’m moving in.”

A stiff breath is taken in. “W…what was that?”

You don’t reply, only saying, “Whatever happens, I order you and the others to stay back, yeah?”

Your hand pulls the earpiece out and shoves it into your pocket right as you slip into the chair directly across from Emmett Kinsman. 

“Emmett,” you say in greeting, moving up a few fingers to a barista with a low call of your order. The individual nods and moves off before you lock on green eyes; they nearly make you flinch. 

You can only imagine what Gaz is telling John right now. 

Kinsman blinks at you, but he isn’t surprised. You were right.

“Hart,” the man smiles. His voice is still the same, though he looks older. “Pleasure seeing you again. Enjoying the sights of the city?”

“Not particularly,” you stare at him.

He chuckles, tilting his head before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows and continues. 

“You always were serious. No fun.” You take the insult without any emotion, blinking at him slowly. What was his play?

“Why?”

“You already know why,” he shrugs, dressed in a nice suit. “I’ve made a name for myself—my name will be remembered for ages.” A twinkle in his eye. “SAS soldier turned weapon supplier; isn’t it exciting.”

“It’s a disgrace,” you lean forward, only stopping your voice from rising as a cup is placed down in front of you by the barista. 

Your face plasters a fake smile and you nod, moving it in front of you. Emmett watches with a smirk.

“I call it a change of heart.” He sighs, smirk simmering to a casual smile. “But I am glad to see you, you’ve been creating a big mess of things and I took it upon myself to have a meeting between us as old friends.”

“I’m not your friend,” you growl. “You’ve killed innocent people for no more than a fucking paycheck.”

“Well,” he snorts. “I don’t kill anyone. I’m the middle man—there’s a difference.”

Rage makes your eyes go to slits.

“And innocents, Sweet Thing?” Emmett leans in closer, face so smug and open you want to pull your weapon on him and worry about the consequences later. “What do I call what you do then?”

“A necessary evil,” you huff. “One I carry on my shoulders just like every other soldier does. One that was far better than supplying terrorists.”

Kinsman shrugs, moving back and picking up his drink, swirling it. “If you say so.” He hums. “You have to try the pastries here, you know. They’re very good.”

“I know you’re here because you expected us to find you, what I can’t figure out is why you broke your cover in the open instead of turning yourself in.” You look around at the faces in the outdoor seating, studying them trying to pinpoint if they’re civilians or in league with Kinsman. “Tell me before I decide to shoot you right here and now and end this regardless of hidden goods.”

“You already tried that, Hart,” Emmett laughs. “Pointing a gun at me didn’t work last time.”

“I’m not going to use a gun,” you ease out. “I’m going to take the butter knife on the table and slit your throat.”

“Uncivilized,” Emmet grumbles, frowning at the silver object near your hands. “It isn’t even sharp.”

“Good.” Green eyes narrow, unimpressed. He sighs, fingers moving in an outward gesture of exasperation. 

“If you must know before the main finale, I wanted to bring you here to say that I’m thoroughly impressed with your drive.” You try to stave off the shock in your stomach at the words coming out like a charmer’s flute. Raising a slow brow, you’re caught off guard. Emmett chuckles. “You nearly caught me at several instances throughout our game of cat and mouse. Many times I forget who the assigned roles were even given to; I’m telling you that I had fun.”

You stare, face tight. 

Emmett hums and his eyes go to slits. 

“But every game has to come to an end. I’m growing tired of it.”

The building across the street erupts into a great ball of fire.

—

John hears the explosion in the air, the shockwave that leaves his body halting to look into the sky in time to see black smoke.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Fuck!” 

He rushes into the panicked crowd, memories stuck in his head and a bone-deep fear he’d been feeling since you cut the connection in your earpiece. Gaz had been relaying to him what was going on action for action—a football game, only the difference was that your life was on the line. 

“Kate,” John shouts. “Get the authorities down here now! We have an explosion on Holbergsgade.”

“Explosion?” The woman’s voice is sharp and disbelieving. “What’s going on—”

“Hart’s in the bloody crossfire, there’s no time!” John’s face is tight, wind whipping past his ears as screams fly on the wind; crying. “The fool is trying to get herself taken fucking hostage for intel!”

Whatever else was said was lost to the wind—Gaz comes over the line, calling to him in a panic as Johnny and Simon join in. 

“The entire building just went up in—”

“Fucking Christ—”

“Price, what is this?”

“All of you get down here!” John sprints past people on the ground, ripping his gun out of the back of his waistband. There’s no arguing. 

When the Captain turns the last corner, carnage greets him. 

The building across from the café was reduced to nothing but rubble and a still-burning flame. Eyes wide, John only looks at it for a few moments, too preoccupied with you.

Where were you? 

His jaw clenches, eyes burning with rage. Such a perfect soldier yet such a flawed sense of teamwork, he had a feeling you’d try something like this—had left Gaz with you for that very reason. Fuck he should have been at your side. He should have known. 

A low grumble moves through his lips, head snapping all around. There are bodies on the ground. Blood pooling under thick building material—fabric in the breeze. 

“Hart!” John yells, running to the café and seeing the remnants of a fast fight. 

The Captain’s heart drops to his feet, face burning with hellfire so much that a sheen comes to his cheek. His hand moves out to touch the handle of a butter knife that had been slammed into the table now half-fallen over, eyes stuck on only one thing on the ground under it.

Through the wails and the call of sirens, the man stares at the two long fingers sitting in the dust.

Never in his life had he felt a fear like this.

—

“I wanted to be kind about this,” Emmett fiddles with the wrappings of his bandaged left hand, only three fingers remaining. “I was going to make it quick.”

You’re locked in a cell-like room, head to the side and blood leaking out of a cut face. Burns travel up your arm, the sticky puss leaking out only serving to make you shiver. You don’t know where you are—don’t know what happened after you severed Kinsman’s fingers with that knife.

But you know the pain isn’t something that you haven’t already gone through before. 

Your voice is hoarse but firm as it leaks out of you, vision spotty. You’d been thrown in here after a ride in the trunk of a car. The ground is concrete. 

“...Don’t make me laugh.”

Emmett growls, eyes wide with hatred. 

“Pathetic!” He barks eyes looking you over with disgust. “Look at what you did to my hand!”

His other hand connects with the bars of the cage, producing a metal ringing sound as you push yourself up with one arm, eyelids flinching in pain. Sitting up, your body falls back to the wall behind it, and you grunt when the air in your lungs is expelled. You lick at your dust-coated lips, your head ringing and your focus failing. Concussion. 

“Least of your worries,” you roll your jaw, a wave of pain making your body seize up and your hands tense with quivering shakes. Your mouth opens with sharp pants. Bile pools in the base of your throat. 

It’s nothing. 

John will come soon. The tracker. If Laswell can get it working again, you’d be out of here and you would have whatever this location turns out to be and the intel that it can offer you—computer databases would be a one-and-done game. You would get names, coordinates, and buyers. It could all be over. 

Your clothes are melted into your skin, and when you move, they peel away with the remnant of your epidermis. The flesh of your left thigh and arm had taken the worst of it—and the cut from flying debris over your left cheek hasn’t stopped bleeding. 

Blood drips from it, and a loud ache makes your head pound all the worse. 

You’ve gone through worse.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Emmett snarls, the crimson bandages thick over his hand. “But it isn’t a problem,” he says, moving his other hand to slick back his hair. “It isn’t a problem,” the man utters again. “You’re going to help me. Yes…I’ve made up my mind. I need you to understand why I do the things I do.” 

Your brows furrow, but above this burning in your head, it’s hard to understand what’s being said to you. Shadows move and Emmett orders one of his men to open the cell door.

You fight the black dots at the sides of your vision, leaking until you’ve accepted the reality of yourself going unconscious. As your body slouches to the side, hands ruthlessly grasp under your arms and drag you to your feet. 

“Everyone has a breaking point.”

—

“What do you mean,” John glares at Laswell, his arms crossed over his chest; hands tightly grasping at his biceps. “You can’t find her?”

“The tracker was old, John,” the woman tries to explain, furiously typing at her computer that rests on the table in front of her—her spine bent over as the rest of the One-Four-One stay in a limbo of anxious looks. “To get it working again, it would need something to restart it. I don’t know if you can see,” Kate’s eyes are hard as they lock with his, “but I can’t do anything if she’s not here first.”

“Well of course she’d not bloody here Laswell, fucking Kinsman has her!” He shouts, hands moving out in a display of aggression. 

“Captain,” Kate rises to the challenge, hand moving flat to the table and glaring with the heat of a thousand missiles. “Do not take that tone with me.” 

John snarls and jerks his head away, feet on the ground trading weight. 

The man was borderline feral—all snapping teeth and sharp glances. Gaz had seen him like this only a handful of times, MacTavish even fewer. Ghost, of course, knew, but even his brown eyes wouldn’t leave his Captain, absorbed in the way he was unable to stay still for even a moment. He was in full gear, too. Had put it on directly after returning to a local base. 

John was ready to go to war, down to the rifle that swung from a strap at his side, the ammunition stuffed to his chest—sidearm at his thigh. A rabid dog with intelligence and the knowledge of where teeth needed to be applied to a neck for a clean kill. Simon doubted he wanted it to be clean.

John was ready to rip people to pieces. 

“Give me something,” the Captain says in a low growl, beard shifting. “Give me what I need.”

Kate splays her hands. “All we have is surveillance of a car leaving the area—the smoke covers all chances of the drone we had flying picking up a clear picture. John,” Laswell eases, standing up, “there’s only so much we can do. We need to wait—”

“We can’t bloody wait,” Gaz speaks up, “What’ll he do to her in the meantime?”

“Garrick’s right, we need to be on the ground with this.” Johnny nods, mohawk bobbing. “That’s one of our own—we’re not sitting around with our thumbs up our arses, Laswell. Not with Hart.”

Simon blinks, humming. Laswell’s eyes shift to him, near pleading for one to be on her side with this and see sense. Ghost shrugs. “I’m with them. Hart’s one of our own; we’ll do what needs to be done.”

John’s chest swells with pride while his eyes get stuck on your file on the table, your printed picture, and your black ink—he’d never loved an image more, but nothing could beat the real thing. He needed you back. He’d gone through hell with you for his entire life; you’d suffered with him and only locked your hands together and held on tighter. 

That was love—that was duty.

John Price wasn’t against skewing his morals for the sake of your safety. You would always be his most important mission. The man didn’t want to think about what might happen if he found you too late.

“Give me the video of the vehicle,” he grunts, jaw tight and his eyes beady. His body slightly leans forward to Kate, love going lower. “Or I’m going out there myself.” 

Laswell frowns tightly at him. 

“I just sent it into forensics—they’re trying to get a match. Go out if you want, but I won’t be able to stop the firestorm that comes out of it.”

She closes her laptop and moves past him, sending one last comment into the stone man as he towers ever taller.

“She’s strong, John. If you’re smart, you’ll keep yourself out of the crossfire until we have a definitive hit.” 

Her voice echoes from behind him as his hands slowly move to clench into knuckle-whitening fists.

“If Kinsman gets a tip we’re still onto him—you’ll never see Hart again.”

—

Day Three:

Your days start blending. One moment you hear the snapping of your bones, and then the next you’re wasting away in this cell—ears ringing and eyes buggy. So much blood. Blood on the walls—blood on the chair they strap you into in the other room; even stuck in the groves of your flesh. 

You don’t think you can stop closing your eyes and seeing a deer at the bottom of a bridge drop-off. It’s stuck in your head like a virus; those car lights in the back of your mind just waiting for you. 

There’s no sense as to what they do to you—all its purpose is, is to prove a point to Emmett. A sort of broken retribution for your interference and his fingers. 

Vain man, really. You’d told him as much when he was watching you get your own finger torn off my pliers; spit it at him as the blood from your bitten tongue stayed his suit. You remember the feeling of the knuckle popping first, and then the burning heat of the flesh being twisted to the side. Two firm yanks and the flesh had sprung like elastic, fissuring, the tendon snapping. 

You think you blacked out after that, but you can’t be sure. All you remember doing is screaming. 

You woke up with your left pinkie finger completely gone, resting outside in the hallway to mock you from past the bars. Your eyes could see the bone sticking out of it, and all that was left on you was a badly cauterized stump. 

When Emmett had come to gloat, you started slurring out laughter. 

“I’m going to rip you apart.” Your broken body had jerked back and forth like a marionette doll, only succeeding in spreading more red over the floors as green eyes widened and went dumbfounded. 

It sounded like a choking fish.

All he’d done was left, quickly passing the pinkie left limp on the ground.

Day five:

You can’t move your body as they dump you back into the chair—the drain below you flooded over with crimson and bits of hair; vomit and torn-off fingernails. You’re unable to open your eyelids fully. 

A hand grasps at your face, yanking it up into the overhead light until a bucket of water is dumped directly over your head. Your body jerks, coughing and darting forward until you’re shoved to the back of the chair and the rope is tied around the front of your shoulders, the second at your wrists.

Trying to suck down air, you shiver with the strength of an earthquake. Whoever said that they would never be afraid while being tortured was a liar; whoever thinks that they would be able to push through it—a fraud. Emmett was right, everyone had a breaking point.

But you admitted yours would only come after your death.

Your legs are seized, bent up as you hiss as well as you’re able, teeth snapping. 

They’re dumped back down into a bucket of ice-cold water as droplets drip from your nose—wet skin for the moment only holding streaks of gore. Even with your scattered mind, you know what this means. 

Heart tight and eyes widening, you try to push back in the chair; try to fight the rope and the way your body won’t respond. 

A battery is rolled up beside you on a metal cart. Jumper cables. 

There’s a low chuckle at the way your face goes fearful. 

—

John shoves open the door to Laswell’s temporary office, already talking before it hits the far wall. 

“Do we have her?” His hands move beside him, brushing the grip of his sidearm. He hadn’t been out of his full gear for more than five minutes in days. Waiting day and night for any word; sleeping in it, eating in it. The forensics team had been stumped, unable to get more than a model out of the picture. 

But this might finally give him something to act on. 

Kate is moving, grabbing documents and her laptop, speeding past him and out of the door. 

“Kate!” John shouts, following after. “Hey,” he calls, grabbing at her arm to stop her. 

The woman only halts to say, quickly, “We have a hit. Follow me.”

John’s heart is rampaging, pulse wild under his skin as his gloved hands twitch. Finally. He can only smoke so many cigars—only think of so many scenarios until he feels he needs to vomit. You’d been gone for too long. Every moment had been like trying to walk with a cloth over his head; lost. 

He’d grown stiff. Stiffer than normal. Everyone had seen it.

“Where is it, then?” John asks as Laswell pushes open the door to the meeting room, the other three already inside.

“A property outside of Copenhagen—bought through a proxy on a fund that was linked to blood money in South America; it all went directly back to Kinsman. It was found only ten minutes ago.” A pause. Electricity in the air. “But that’s not how we found it.”

“How,” Simon asks, moving closer. 

John gives the woman his full undivided attention, hands moving to rest at his collar in a soothing gesture. 

“Her tracker came back on.” Eyes go wide, all sharing rapid glances as Kate opens her laptop and opens a man, turning the device for them to see. “Same location.”

Johnny blinks, his eyes narrowing. “And what does that mean?”

“That can’t have just done that by itself,” Gaz mutters, brown eyes sliding over to John who’s stiller than a wolf. The Sergeant pauses. 

His eyes are dead set on that screen. His thighs were so tense it was nearly like the Captain was about to sprint out of the room. Kyle’s face goes blank at that, never quite seeing the extent that your disappearance had on the man. His superior had bags under his eyes; far more pale than usual. His apparel was ruffled, too. Even in the more serious of situations, the Sergeant had never seen John so…out of it. He was always the one with the even head, even if he had a short fuse with certain things. Nothing was ever done without thought, he should say. 

But this is something else. 

“Torture,” Simon gives his two cents and John’s cheek twitches at the word. “Electrocution. They jump-started it and didn’t even know.” 

“Bloody Jesus,” John breathes. Everyone had already had a hunch, but no one had wanted to name it. 

It’s a low rumble that makes the rest of them freeze, though. It was so dead in tone that it even made Kyle’s spine lock up; Johnny’s eyes went a smidgen upward. Simon, although his face was covered, felt his lips twitch.

John looks at nothing but that dot on the computer screen.

“Am I green, Laswell?”

Kate looks at John. It’s like setting a hellhound loose. 

“You’re green, Captain.”

—

You’re tossed into the cell and your body rolls along the floor, bouncing and flinching until your back slams into the wall. Air is forced from your lungs, coming out in a loud grunt before you land on your stomach in a heap. Staying there, your nerves are fried. 

Every moment you think the twitching of your fingers will stop—the dance of your muscles responding to the aftereffects of electrocution, it only starts back up again. Your eyes blink rapidly; your clothes have the scent of smoke to them. 

Gasping for breath, you feel like you’re drowning and being set on fire all at once. 

Yet the question in your head was a simple one, one you’d been asking for days.

Where was John?

Emmett enters the cell, clicking his tongue as the metal hinges squeak. 

“I’m not surprised it’s taking this long,” he explains. “But I am surprised you’re still alive, admittingly.” 

A boot comes out and places itself atop your shoulder, pressing down slowly until its full weight is on top of you. Your mouth opens in a shuddering sound of a dying animal, blood dripping from your ears and nose. 

“I know you’ve taken torture before—even taken a part of it,” Kinsman sighs. “But, shit Hart, you really do scare me when I know you’re strong enough to get through th—”

Your body jolts up, grappling Emmet’s leg and twisting it to the side. Regardless of pain—of agony—there’s such primal rage inside of you that what little adrenaline you can bring forth is all that more addictive. 

The man collapses in a heap, gasping, but you’re already on top of him, wrestling your hand to his neck, missing finger and all. Blood moves, staining his precious suit and dripping from your mouth into his hairline. You bare down your weight on him, teeth clenched and eyes wild—one orb holding nothing but red from burst veins and the other full of a vicious gleam of ferality. 

Hands snap up to your wrists, mouth opening in flapping panic. 

But Emmett has grown weak; he’s out of practice. All of those years out of the SAS, giving up on the training of the body to match the mind. The idiot wasn’t even carrying a gun when he walked into the cell of a charging stag, its antlers dripping gore, sharper than any knife. 

When the flaps of his eyes fall there’s no gloating speech—there’s no snort of a tall and proper victor. All you do is take the front of his face, grasp it, and start sending his skull back into the concrete floors. 

Crack.

…Crack.

….Crack.

Only when the sound of his head breaking open meets your ringing ears, do you force your wheezing lungs to take a large breath. 

Emmet Kinsman died as he lived. 

A fucking piece of shit.

“Fuck you,” you spit on his corpse, saliva bloody; his jaw is loose as you release the man’s face, eyes bulging. Falling to the side, you groan in pain, your body curling into itself until you resemble a sleeping fawn. You’re shaking more and more with every second, coughing with the force of an earthquake until your shredded vocal chores force you to stop. 

But the brain is a funny thing. 

In times of danger, survival is the only thing that takes priority. It was why, in a long shove of your hand to the floor, with your bones creaking and your vomit meeting the ground, you’re able to stand. It isn’t enough to help you heal the snapped bone of your right leg, however, and in a steadily failing stupor, you drag it behind you. In this state, nothing else matters to you besides a simple command: get out.

Your shoulder slaps the metal of the cell as you stumble out of it, careening into the far wall and letting out a loud shout. 

Eyes fluttering, you connect your temple to the cool concrete, trying to breathe. 

It hurts too much, your mind says. God, I can’t feel my limbs. 

A long trail of blood follows you down the hallway as you slide along the wall, using it as a brace. 

You want to see John, you whisper inside of your head. You want to be held by him—be taken into his chest; cared for away from all of this fighting. 

A trip back to Herefordshire with him, to go deep into the country together; rest in the green grass where no one can find you for just a few good hours. It didn’t have to be forever, you would say. Just a few hours. A few hours of sky and earth wrapped in a time loop of just your own. 

You want to kiss him there. In the open, out in the wild. You want to stay by his side, your mind thinks as you stumble over the three dead bodies in the left corridor, bullet wounds in their heads. You want to be by his side forever, no more gaps in years, not more longing. It’s so close you can nearly reach out and grasp it—

Your name is yelled on a heavy breath, and hands capture your shoulders as you fall straight into them with no more strength.

Blue eyes lock with yours as you’re hurriedly settled to the ground, body limp and eyes trying to stay open. 

Blue eyes on a grassy hill.

“Hart, fucking hell.” Hands move your body, pressing and sliding—finding every opening and spreading blood like water. “Fucking hell! Hey!”

You’re yelled at, and the ripping of pouches and the familiar sound of bandages being wrapped come to the back of your brain. A hand shakes your head, locked under your chin as you take slow, broken, breaths. 

“Please, fuck sake, please,” it’s a desperate growl, so familiar and yet a world away. Your body is moved and manipulated as every leaking wound is packed with so much gauze it hangs out of you like you’re a mummy. The burns along your flesh are crust and infected, open skin peeling back. 

But the pain is lesser now. Easier to manage. 

There’s such a ruckus that it’s hard to focus on John—the man on the hill. In the grass and the wind. Brown hair moves in the breeze as white clouds roll past. On the air, there’s the scent of rain, and in the far distance, you can see a group of ten deer grazing, ears twitching.

Maybe you’ll ask them if they blame their leader, or the two trucks on the end of a bridge.

“Keep your eyes on me!” You blink into John’s tiny blues, that mist rolling back. You stare for a moment as he frantically screams into his radio; night vision rig on his head and all-black gear covering him from you. His face is pale, his eyes glossy. “Look at me, hey,” he blinks as he notices you watching, surging forward. “Hey, keep 'em open, yeah? You keep them fucking open, Love.” 

Your chest is heavy. 

“John,” you push out a flicker coming to your lips as your vision slightly unblurs itself to the sight of a flood of blood on the man’s body—an unimaginable amount.

“I’m ‘ere,” his accent grows deeper with emotion, one hand holding your cheek and the other at your shoulder, keeping you still to stop any additional damage. “I’ve got you, you understand me? I’m not letting you go, so don’t you think that I will.” 

It’s a double-edged sword.

A smile peels back your chapped lips, red running from the corner of your mouth. You glance at his stained gear again. The abyss swirls at the corners of your eyes.

“Is that your blood, or mine, John Price?” 

You hear him scream for a medic, and then it all goes numb.

—

You dream of deer on a hill, but every time you search for John, he isn’t there. You go past rivers—

“She’s dropping!”

“Get me the defibrillator!”

—past copses. Your voice goes high and low, but all the while you look, there’s nothing but a nagging feeling in the back of your head that you shouldn’t be here.

“Again!”

It’s a strange nagging, truly. Like falling asleep in the middle of the day and waking up in the night without any remembrance of what had happened prior. A displacement of the mind. 

“We’ve got a pulse, Doctor, do we stop and—”

“No, I need to finish off the internal bleeding or else she won’t make it another day. Get me the cauterizer, now.”

You blink and grip your chest, a sudden pain sharp in your heart as the grass moves about your ankles. Coughing, you bend over, your eyes fluttering rapidly. In the deepest part of your eardrum, you hear a murmur of a voice you can’t place.

“The man came back, again. He’s been out there for days. He just…sits there, waiting until someone tells him something. He can’t come in, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sure hearing his voice would help more than mine, but you’re in too much of an unstable condition for that. If you get another infection, you won’t…hm, I shouldn’t talk about that. Everyone in school said only to talk positively to patients when they’re like this. I…I’m sure he’ll be able to come in soon. I think everyone calls him John if that rings a bell?”

“John?” Your eyes flutter open, sharp light above you making you snap them back closed. No one answers. 

It’s a long moment before you find the strength to breathe in the oxygen from the mask over your face, taking a long and deep inhale before a slight cough makes your abdomen tight. You flinch at the pull of stitches, all coming from so many places, that it’s unwise to move too much. 

Gradually, you open back up your eyes, pushing past the sting. Inside of your throat, the skin is so dried out you can feel it cracking at every articulation of your words. 

“Where's…John?” When you shift your head to the side, no one’s there. No one’s even in the room, either.

Blinking through the haze, your lips twitch on your face, skin tight. With a slap of your weak hand, you grasp the oxygen mask and pull it down to your neck, grunting in mild annoyance at the medicated numbness of your form. 

Your leg is in a cast—and your left side is tightly bound by wrappings to hide away the burns where skin grafts most likely live. With a glance, you see the missing pinky and the bandages that cover the strange remnants. 

The facial wound will scar, you know, but right now it’s patched over and healing. That’s all you can ask for. 

Sighing long, you blink slowly at the ceiling, licking your lips. You need water.

Outside, the murmurs are missed to you as your unmarred hand reaches for the nightstand table, where a half-drunk bottle of water sits next to a tray of food. Even if your stomach rumbles, water takes precedence. Your throat was like the Sahara desert.

“Forget something, John?”

“Bloody fork. The bastard gave me the slip. Dropped mine, needed to go back and grab another.”

“Oh, that’s alright—you could have asked one of us to get one for you. We’d hate for you to miss any time for visiting hours.”

“It’s fine; gets me moving, eh?”

“Just grab us if you need anything else!”

A low grunt is accented by the opening of the door; immediately you tense and pause, neck fighting itself to shift forward once more.

Wide blues lock with your own, and it’s like every pain fades away. 

John’s jaw is slack hidden under the layers of his beard bristles, brows going atop his head in an instant. The sound of a dropping metal utensil echoes through the room. 

You both stare at one another for a long time, and the murmur of nurses accumulates to some peaking through the crack; their expressions also going to shock. A few scurry off, probably to get a doctor. 

“What?” Your hoarse voice asks, unnerved by this. 

At the sound of your voice, John flinches forward on his boots. The nurses get shut out with beaming faces as the barrier closes with a small click of metal.

Walking to the side of your bed, John clears his throat, eyes looking you up and down in two glances. A million things are hidden in them. After an opening and closing of his mouth, which you watch closely while squinting, he speaks.

“How are we feeling, then?” You breathe slowly and in tiny puffs. John looks at the oxygen mask as if telling you to put it back on, but you refuse for a moment. 

“Like shit,” you utter, voice cracking.

With a huff, John pushes away your reaching hand and gets the water himself, unscrewing it. Bringing it to your lips, you take it down as he speaks.

“Easy, Love.” 

When you’d had your fill and the ache settled, you brought a hand to your head and rubbed at your injured cheek before John sighed and grabbed at it, intertwining his fingers with yours and lowering the limb back to your chest.

You stare at him, and he stares at you. 

“I don’t know what to ask,” you confess. 

“You don’t have to ask anything,” John mutters, and his face is tight with worry. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks, all you need to do is ease back into it.”

Your eyes snap back.

“Tell me if it hurts,” He speaks slowly, moving on one word at a time so the realization doesn’t dwell in your brain. “I can get someone to come in, yeah?”

Your hand in his burns, and John pulls at the chair by the nightstand until he’s able to sit down in it fully with a tiny grunt.

“No,” you say, “no, it’s…I’m fine.”

Better now that you’re here, but your body is tense. Three weeks?

“Just need to take it easy,” the man states, thumb running up and down your knuckles. “You’ll be better soon.”

A dry look is sent his way, and he hides a soft quirk on his lips. “You’ll be better, Love.”

You hum, head moving back more heavily into the pillow. 

“When do I get to go back?”

“When you’re healed,” he grunts. “Not a fuckin’ moment sooner.”

“We get anything on the other locations of the—”

“Hart,” you’re interrupted. Blue eyes stare at you heavily, digging past every shield you’d put up and every fear. What happened was still heavy in your mind; it pained you to imagine it, even the way John had found you—even if it was all glimpses. “Slow down. That’s not an order coming from a soldier, it’s a caution from an old friend.” John says, squeezing your flesh. His other hand comes to your shoulder, sitting there heavily. 

“Breathe,” he orders, face gruff. “We always figure it out.” 

You close your eyes and sigh, frowning. 

A low chuckle moves along the air a second later. 

“Never sit down, do you?” A flicker dances over your lips like a butterfly. “Impossible, you are.”

“You’re one to talk,” you huff, eyes shifting back to him. 

He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but mirror it right back at the sight. Your facial injury pulls and tightens, but you would welcome an ache like that for as long as it stayed. A scar born of the stretch of lips is one well-earned. Only John could ever make it a reality.

The man stares at your lips, his wide build eager to stay over you in this state. He can’t stop himself from caressing your skin; to feel you alive and breathing. Talking.

“Scared me,” John admits under his breath. 

You blink, your smile fading slowly until it was like it was never there. Your body builds with guilt; also something only he could bring. “I’m sorry, John.” 

A small thinning of his lips is what you get, accented by a hum. 

“Hart,” he grunts. “I…”

John’s eyes closed for a moment before opening back up—spearing you with their gaze. Your tired eyes crinkle in confusion.

“What is it?” Over the tingle of your flesh from where he touches you, it isn’t hard to forget the world is around you when he’s here like this. You’re nearly trapped by his eyes, yet you welcome it eagerly. His voice moves out, accent and natural gravel, all. 

“I love you.” 

Your nose lets a chuff exit. Was that all?

“I love you, too, John—”

“No, Hart,” he pushes slightly harder, moving closer and licking his lips as he glances away. “No,” John looks you dead in the eye as you lay here battered and broken within an inch of your life—a risk that you took willingly as if it had meant nothing. The both of you weren’t new to this; you both knew that on any day you or he would do it over and over again until it resulted in death. That was the way of this game; this trial. 

You had both always been content with that, but when had it changed? 

Why was the thought of losing you more fear-invoking than anything else he’d ever encountered?

You watch him as his lips utter the words, lips close to yours and your eyes locked. 

“I love you.” 

Your voice is caught in your throat, stuck in the throws of a quick gasp. Not blinking, the man waits for you—waits for an answer to the earth-shattering confession. But it all came far easier than you would ever admit to anybody besides him. It was already known, after all. 

All that remained was the pesky words.

“I love you, too.” You beam, words low with intimacy. “I think I always have.”

John chuckles, a large smile pushing at his reddening cheeks. “Good,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Good,” he says again. “Well, I—”

You softly connect your lips with his, and you feel him pause, breathing you down for a moment as hearts beat at the same tempo. He sighs, one hand coming up to capture your cheek, holding it there for you as you sag into it and live in this everlasting moment. 

It’s there you had a revelation.

It was never Hart to him. John had never been calling you that. 

He’d always just been saying Heart.

You breathe out a laugh, when you separate, beaming in a happiness you thought was long gone from you—stolen in the dark nights and sold through even darker deeds. Neither of you was worthy of this, of the love that breeds in broken things. Yet, here it is regardless. Here, among blood and the blue eyes of a man you’d known since knowing anything became important. You had always known it was John. And finally, finally, finally.

“I would marry you in an instant, John Price,” you breathe when you separate, not weak enough to stop the words from exiting from the deepest part of your soul.

His crinkled eyes watch, reverently gazing at every blemish and mark; everything he could learn new again. John’s eyes are as soft as you ever imagined them to be, and he gives them over freely to you.

He kisses you again and leaves the taste of his heavy, happy, chuckle tingling across your lips.

“Seems I’d better get on that, then.”

A/N: This fic is strangely nostalgic for me even if I just wrote it - I remember the first ever fic I posted on here was a rescue fic, as well as a John Price fic; it's amazing to see how far I've come in regards to overall content/story building and how my understanding of the character has evolved. This might not be the best work I've posted on my blog, but I'm glad to say I'm proud of myself and how far I've come. It's so wonderful that I can have this feeling for such a big moment and still feel so drawn back to the past at the same time. Totally not tearing up at the thought rn.

Thank you all very much for your support.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting , @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

[gremlingottoosilly]

Mafia!Konig and Loser!reader who is just a humble artist trying to find a buyer for his paintings.

You know the theory about most of contemporary art being just a curtain for black market and a way to legitimize drug money? Yea. No one was interested in your paintings. You didn't have a large name, you couldn't draw as much as you wanted because of your day job in retail, and you absolutely hated every minute of your life, being stuck in the apartment with artists of the same misery. All of you had trouble coming up with the money, so when there is an order on all of your paintings, you don't look like a gifted horse in the mouth. Someone wanted to buy your art. It was enough to make you want to marry this person. The guy who arranged the payment is sketchy. He wears a mask, blacl glasses, and a very noticeable anger in his voice as you don't quite understand what he wants to do from the first time. He says he will buy all of your paintings and put them in a gallery. He asks about your permission and if you want to do this for charity. He struggles to come up with a charity name, but you already sign up for whatever he is trying to give you, too happy to finally have money for the first time in your life. Then you wake up in a dirty basement, tied up to a chair. Funny. You thought about selling your organs in the past, but you never knew you will do it so soon - weirdly, you feel like all of your insides are intact. Weirdly, there is a huge man with a gun and scary mask, staring at you. Petting your head and touching your face like he is handling a pet, not a living and breathing starving artist, once in a generation talent. Man - Konig - said he wanted to buy all of your paintings to clean the money he got from the recent drug shipment. You were prooven to be a really reliable source, since you were clueless about the whole operation and would be easy to dispose after, but then his henchmen texted about how cute your dumb face looked. And Konig likes dumb loser girls who already wasted their lives. God, how much he adores them. He isn't opposed to charity and helping a starving artist thrive and do her silly painting about capitalism and gender issues while she eats from his hand. He isn't opposed to having you depend on him and cling to him like a tiny puppy - and he likes dangling riches in front of your face. Makes you do countless portraits of him and his men, always laughing if you say you don't really draw people. You'll have to, he says - if you want money. And you do, of course.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Passion for Fashion Part 3

Danny nervously twirls his thumbs as Dan paces before him, mumbling insults to the Waynes under his breath. They were supposed to go third in the walkway line, as it was supposed to be in alphabetical order, but just as the computation was going to begin, a disaster struck.

Tim Drake-Wayne had been kidnapped. In broad daylight, as the teenage CO-CEO was getting out of his limo, a group of men broke through the crowd, swinging guns around and demanding everyone to get on the ground and give them their valuables.

Of course, there were security who attempted to gain control of the situation, but it seemed that three of their newest hires were traitors and in on the heist. A shoot-out was ensured.

Drake-Wayne had been taken in the chaos, and Bruce Wayne had passed out from worry. He and the rest of his kids were on their way to a hospital- a secret location to deter further kidnappings of the remaining Waynes- and the first runway of the competition was canceled.

Danny hadn't seen anything from the model changing room, but Dan had forgotten his make-up bag in the front entry and had gone back for it while Danny changed. He had been front and center when the whole thing went down.

"Who just lets themselves get taken like that!?" Dan huffs, practically spitting fire. According to the ghost, Tim Drake-Wayne's actions were an act, and the teenager had been able to get away from his kidnappers but didn't.

Dan found his nonaction insulting since it paused his fashion show.

"Um, look around you? Situation awareness." Danny tells him, gesturing to the cage they had been shoved into. While the people had been preoccupied with Tim Drake-Wayne's kidnapping, a second group of men had gone in through the backdoor and taken all the models.

Danny had thought it was the staff moving them until he noticed a few people crying as they were placed into vans. In his defense, most people aren't used to seeing someone armed like he is, so the gun-waving hadn't tipped him off.

Dan had joined him later when he followed the coordinator- another traitor- to the vans, and his counterpart had only gotten upset when they took his make-up bag.

"Please, this is just metal." Dan rolls his eyes, bending the bars and straightening them out again to prove his point. Danny doesn't mention the electric buzz the bars release, as neither is really affected by the shock. It's more of an annoying light show. "Sides, it's not like we're human. Not like them."

He tilts his chin to where other models sob in their cages below. They are all waiting for their new owners to pick them up. At least, that's what Danny was able to gather from the men's taunts. They were taken by human traffickers, who had buyers look at the competition lineup and pick which model they wanted before the actual kidnapping.

Danny and Dan were in such high demand they would be sold at an auction that would take place while the rest of their pals kept the Bats busy. Danny had no idea who the Bats were or why they would save them instead of the police.

"Tell the whole world why don't you?" Danny hisses, twirling his thumbs more " If they found out what we are we could be turned over to this world version of the Guys In White."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my human boots." Dan rolls his eyes. He resumes his pacing. "If the Waynes had taken this seriously, we could have been seeing the results of the judge's panel already."

"Dan, this is a little more important than your fashion Obsession."

"Excuse you, my Obsession is a medical condition," Dan huffs, sliding down the cage bars, and for a brief second, his hair flickered to white before it settled back into black. A flash of pain crosses his face. "My core is killing me."

Danny winces. "Right, sorry, that was insensitive. How about I steal you some paper and pens so you can design a ball gown?"

"I like that."

Danny turns to the bars, bending them open and closing them behind him. He carefully makes his way across the giant shipping crates, to an office at the top right corner.

They are at the docks, hidden somewhere in a warehouse among many crates that will be shipped out, and Danny is honestly a little offended they have yet to be found. Sure, the kidnappers had driven through the sewers on a strangely built road that led them here, but surely someone would have noticed the apparent fact the van disappeared at a fake dead alley?

Weren't there cameras in almost every corner of the city? Dan had warned Danny about them while doing his Obsession-driven research, and both agreed not to Go Ghost while in public due to them.

Now, they could escape, but Danny wasn't kidding about the Guys in White or whatever their equivalent was here. He would rather know what level of competence they have before he makes any rash moves.

Danny also wants to see his fellow models' buyers, and he would like to have a word with them. His ghost Obsession may not be protection- much to the shock of many- but Danny has always had a moral compass that pointed to protecting others around him.

Dan knew and respected this about him, so his counterpart was willing to sit and wait for the buyers. He's just a little angsty since it disrupted his obsession.

Danny grimly peeks into the office window when he sees the coordinator talking on a phone. There doesn't seem to be anyone else around, so he carefully opens the door and creeps up behind the man.

"-If you ever want to see your son again," The man is saying, smirking. Danny can't see it due to the man facing away from him, but he can hear it in his voice.

On the desk is a laptop that repeats what he said only, the sound sounds robotic and unrecognizable. Is that a voice changer? "I suggest you ask Batman to find your boy before it's too late."

Batman? The man they were supposed to help save his humanity?

Danny knows it's a risk, but this is too much of a chance to pass up. He carefully picks up the office chair and brings it down hard on the disgusting man's head. The coordination lets out a chocked grunt of pain, but he's out like a light when he hits the ground. His phone flies across the floor, and a voice is heard speaking urgently.

Danny ties the man to the bolted-down desk using zip ties- the same ones they had used on him and the rest earlier that day, before picking up the phone.

"Hello? Is this Batman?" Danny asks, jumping slightly when the laptop repeats him in a creepy robotic voice. "Wait hold on, I think I can get rid of this voice thingy."

"...what?" A man asks over the phone, but Danny pays him no mind as he tries to click some boxes.

"Hello, testing one two three," Danny says, wincing when the voice changer makes him sound high and unnaturally squeaky. He sounds like he's trying to audition for Alvin and the Chipmunks. "Hello? Hello? Wait, I think I got it."

"Who are you? Where is Tim?" The man asks, and Danny almost rolls his eyes. He hates it when someone interrupts him while he's working with tech.

"Wait-there it is! Can you hear me alright? Do I sound normal?"

"....I can hear you."

"Awesome! Are you Batman, and if so, have you considered the importance of mental health activities? Like hugging your kids once a day? That really boosts your serotonin and dopamine levels." Danny asks, attempting to channel Jazz as much as he can. There is muffled sound across the phone line, like someone is attempting to smother a laugh.

"No, this is Bruce Wayne." Mr. Wayne says after a moment pause, "You have my son?"

"Oh," Danny tries not to sound as disappointed as he feels, but he may have failed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne I don't think your son is here. I think they were using him to distract you and the police of the missing models."

There is a strange lake of sound on the other line before Mr. Wayne responds. "Can you tell me who I am speaking to?"

"Danny Fenton. I was one of the models that was taken." Danny says, then he realizes the cops must be listening in because that always happens in movies; he lowers his voice and tries to sound in shock. "I think we're in a warehouse? I'm not sure, but I was in a cage when I woke up. They said they're going to sell us. I escaped, but there were guards everywhere, so I tried hiding in the office and heard the man you were speaking to come in. I hit him with a chair."

"Mr.Fenton," A new man says suddenly, "I know this is a terrifying situation, and I-"

"Are you Batman?"

"....No, son, I'm Commissioner Gordon"

"Oh."

"Do you want to speak to Batman?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask why?"

"I need to tell him to hug his kids."

Danny waits a few seconds for a response, but he hears nothing, not even the wind. They must have muted themselves. He leans on the desk, mindful to give the kidnapper a solid kick to make sure he's still out, and glancing over to the window to make sure there aren't any guards coming his way.

"Mr. Fenton, did they give you anything strange?" Commissioner Gordon asks

Danny thinks for a moment before humming. "They gave all of us something in a needle. I don't know what it was, but it felt funny. My brother has been acting weird since he got it."

"Okay, you're doing good. " Commissioner Gordon sounds like he is frowning but the words cause something in Danny's core to pur."Okay, son, everything is going to be alright. I need you to do something for me. Every Gotham warehouse has a serial number; you can find it in the main office on the power box. Do you see the box?"

Danny glances around until he sees the small little green box. He hurries over to it, throwing the door open. "I found it."

"Good. Can you read me the number?"

Danny reads them off as quickly as he can. Once all ten digits are within the police's hands he asks again. "Do you know if Batman partakes in his kid's interests?"

"I can ask him for you."

"Would you? That would be great. It's important to let people know you care about them by showing an interest in what they are passionate about. My brother Dan really likes making clothes, and even though I don't think I can model, I do it for him, you know?"

"You're a good brother."

"Thank you.....I'm tired Mr. Gordon." Danny says suddenly eyelids becoming heavy. He slides down the wall a lot like Dan did before.

"I'm sorry to hear that but I need you to keep talking to me, Mr. Fenton."

"Batman should tell his kids he loves them. His love language may be an act of service, but Nightwings' is words of affirmation. Nightwing needs to be told he's loved."

"Mr. Fenton! Stay awake for me! Mr.Fenton!" Danny hears someone yelling, but his core is purring even more now, and the sound is luring him to sleep. Suddenly he thinks of his counterpart in the cage waiting for his paper and pen.

"I have to go. I promised Dan I would get him some stuff so he could design some clothes. Bye-Bye."

"No! Don't hang up-!"

Danny drops the cell phone after pressing the end call button and ignores it when it rings again. He hurries over to the desk, looking for paper, but finds the table lacking. Thankfully, an open suitcase has sheets that he borrowed and a few pens.

He takes them all and runs back over the crates to where Dan is. Once he arrives, he notices many models are no longer distressed. All of them are smiling with a dazed look, and a few are even giggling. He waves at a few as he hurries back to his cage.

Dan is there, muttering under his breath and twisting his fingers in the air as if he were drawing in the sky. Danny bends the bars and holds up his prize. "I got the stuff!"

"Thank the ancients! I was never going to finish Mr. Hot scales suit without it!" Dan cheers, turning one of the sheets over to a clean side. He throws his whole body on the ground, using the smooth surface to start his ball gown.

Danny watches him for a moment before his purring core is too much. Dan reaches out to grip his leg, enclosing it in his warm palm and that's all Danny needs before he's fast asleep.

Dan continues to draw for a few more minutes before he, too, is overcome with sleep. Neither notices Red Hood or Robin bursting into the warehouse, guns and swords blazing, just as the buyers arrive. They or any of the models are unaware of the smackdown that happens until everyone involved with the scheme is behind bars.

Robin finds their cage, stepping through the bent bars and pausing at the sheets of paper scattered across the slumbering teenagers. He flips one incredibly designed ballgown only to have his eyes widen at what's written down.

"Robin to Batman," he says, staring at the paper and pressing his communicator. "I have a complete list of everyone who was buying today and past buyers. We can dismantle an entire ring with this."

"Good work, Robin."

"It wasn't I who found it. It was the Fentons."

".....Are they hurt?"

"Drugged but otherwise unharmed."

"Good."

There is a pause before Nightwing speaks up "Tell me you love me B."

"No"

Danny Fenton's eyes briefly open to stare into a surprised Robin's eyes. "Tell him Batman his humanity is at risk. Says the Ghost King."

"They gave him the good shit," Spolior laughs, having heard Fenton through the coms.

Elsewhere, Tim Drake-Wayne stares at Killer Croc aka Waylon Jones who is replaying the video of Dan Fenton catcalling Waylon from his cage right after the fashion designer was dosed with high levels of morphine.

"Hey Papi, why don't you come up here and let me dress you up in the proper wrapping for a walking gift like you?"

"Hey...hey are you from the EverBurning tribe? Cause those are the hotest legs and tail I have ever seen!"

"Mr.Hot Scales, I promise Danny is the only ally of FarFrozen. I'm team EverBurning all the way! Kiss me!"

"What the actual fuck?" Tim asks, and Waylon nods.

"I have no idea, kid. The first time any of my merchandise flirts with me."

[queenxxxsupreme]

At the End of the World

(Cooper Howard x Reader)

A/N: I know absolutely squat about the Fallout universe but I like to think I’ve done my research good enough. This is my first kick at trying a Cooper Howard x reader so I am getting a feel for his character, please be kind :) Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning: nothing outside of canon, little fluffy here and there

Summary: You run into a certain ghoul and the vault dweller he’s taken as hostage.

Side Note: I called the inhaler thing that Cooper uses to keep from going feral a breather cause that sounded better than inhaler in my head??

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her temple into the wall. She licked her lips in an effort to ease the pain she felt. Her lips were so dry they had cracked again and again.

“Better get some shut eye, Vaultie.”

She opened her eyes and looked across the room to the man holding her hostage. Calling him a man was a stretch. He hadn’t been a man for quite some time. Ghoulification had taken over his features long ago, gnarling his skin and turning him into something between man and monster.

Lucy said nothing to him and put her head back against the wall. Part of her wished she had never left the vault. How could people live on the surface? There were no rules, no regulations, not even morals. It was no way to live. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. She knew she needed to sleep, but she wasn’t sure how much she’d be able to get.

Lucy wasn’t able to concentrate on sleep for very long. After what seemed like just seconds, the Ghoul moved. He straightened his hat and pulled a pistol from the holster on his hip. His eyes remained on the window between himself and Lucy.

“What—?”

”Quiet.” He cut Lucy off.

The vault dweller closed her mouth and tried to listen to whatever the Ghoul heard.

“This has to be where they holed up for the night.” A hushed voice spoke.

”You sure it was a vault dweller, Dart?”

”Positive. You know how much we could get for one of those if we find the right buyer?”

The Ghoul stood to his feet. The wall they were behind was the only bit of building left from what had once been a house. There wasn’t even a roof or another wall, just the piece that Lucy and the Ghoul were hiding behind.

“Looky here, fellas.” A voice came from behind the Ghoul. The sound of a hammer clicking on a pistol made him roll his eyes. “Turn around slow, buddy.”

”You fellas are askin’ for trouble.” The Ghoul warned.

“Drop the gun. Don’t want to hurt you, just want the vaultie.”

The Ghoul let his pistol fall to the dirt floor as he turned to face the unwelcomed guests. The guests consisted of three men and a woman.

“Say, you think we could get anything for a ghoul too?” The woman whispered to the man closest to her.

“It’s far too late in the night for y’all to cause a ruckus.” The Ghoul spoke. “Why don’t you turn around and go back the way you came before one of yous gets hurt?”

One of the men chuckled and shook his head.

“Ain’t no way we’re leaving without her.” He gestured to Lucy with the end of his sawed off shotgun.

Without any warning, a gun was fired once, twice, then three times. The Ghoul watched as all three raiders fell to the ground, blood pouring out of head wounds. His eyes flickered around, seeking out where the shots had come from. He couldn’t see a damn thing in the pitch black night.

Then there was a whistle. It was low and steady, lasting a couple seconds before a second whistle followed.

Lucy’s eyes were wide with panic as she strained to see where the noise came from. She searched the darkness, eyes flighting back and forth. The Ghoul didn’t seem nearly as panicked. In fact, he almost looked confused.

The wind shifted and blew a breeze directly towards him, carrying a familiar scent with it.

“What-What is that?” Lucy croaked. Her throat was so dry that her voice was raspy.

The Ghoul picked up his gun that he had dropped earlier on the ground. He brushed the dirt from it as a grin appeared on his lips.

“Oh that? That ain’t nothin’ but a little ol’ mouse.”

”Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” A soft and sweet voice came from the darkness.

Lucy watched as you moved into her line of sight. You appeared to be human, dressed in black cargo style pants tucked into worn dark brown boots. You wore a dark gray sweatshirt that was tattered around the hem and a brown jacket overtop of the sweatshirt. A dark green scarf wrapped loosely around your neck.

“Haven’t seen you for a while.” The Ghoul spoke, his eyes focused on you.

”Could say the same for you.” Your gaze found Lucy. She offered you a quick and friendly smile, but the sight of your left eye caught the poor girl off guard. It was glowing in the darkness, letting off an electric blue light. “Making new friends, Coop?”

”Ah, you know me. Always looking for a new friend.” The Ghoul’s tone was friendly and light. Lucy had never heard him sound anything close to nice.

You smiled just a little, shaking your head gently as you took a few more steps towards the two.

“Miss? Uh, m-miss?” Lucy tried to move towards you but the sound of the Ghoul pulling the hammer on his pistol back stopped her.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Vaultie. Sit your ass back down.” He gave a stiff nod to the ground where she had been sitting moments ago.

You kept your eyes on Lucy as she returned to her seat. Her eyes found yours again and you had to look away in order to avoid feeling bad for her. The Ghoul sat down and you took the spot right next to him, shrugging your backpack off of your shoulders and placing it between your legs.

“What happened with Dom Pedro?”

”Ain’t important.” He muttered with a shake of his head. You unzipped your backpack and pulled out a canteen.

“What’s your name, girl?”

”Lu-Lucy. My name is— My name is Lucy.” She stammered, pausing to lick her dry lips. “What’s your name?”

You leaned forward to pass her the canteen. She needed it far more than you did.

“Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!” Lucy hastily opened the canteen and began to drink from it rather hastily.

“Friends call me Icy.” You answered her question. “Seems to be what I go by anymore.”

A raspy cough from the Ghoul made you snap your head in his direction. He tried to stifle the cough but it was no use. You had already heard.

“Where’s your breather?”

”Don’t got— Don’t got any vials.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aint’ no use to me.”

”Where are all your vials at?” You knew him too well. There was no way he’d let himself run out. You pulled your backpack closer to you and began to dig around inside hastily.

”Lost them in a tussle with the Vaultie.”

For a brief second, your eyes flickered up to Lucy. You decided then and there that if Cooper turned, you’d kill her yourself.

“You know, I could kick your ass for being so careless, old man.”

”Suppose you could.” He chuckled but it was cut short by another dry cough. “Wouldn’t- Wouldn’t do you any good, but it sure as hell would make for a good time.”

”Well given your current state, sweetheart, I think the odds would be in my favor.” You pulled out the sachet with vials and handed them to the ghoul. He took it from you, your fingers brushing momentarily but just enough to have your heart beating a little quicker.

“Thank ya, doll.” He murmured quietly. You offered him a smile, watching as he put the vial in his breather and took a hit.

“You two are…. Are you close?” Lucy asked. You turned your attention to her, tilting your head to the side just a bit. She tried to smile, to show that she was trying to be friendly.

“Lucy, was it?”

”Yes.” She nodded her head.

“Those kind of questions, Lucy, get you a bullet in your gut out here.”

The smile fell from her broken lips and her brows drew together in confusion.

“I-I wasn’t– I didn’t mean it– It was more just an observation.”

You turned your head to Cooper. He tucked the breather into his jacket and then his eyes found you.

“Heard you came into some trouble a few months back.”

“Just got into it with a group of raiders back outside of Targon.” You leaned back against the metal junk he was leaning against. “Just the same old bullshit. Wanted my eye.”

He stayed quiet. He wished he had found you sooner.

“You need to get some sleep.” You leaned over to push your shoulder against his.

Cooper tilted his head down, the brim of his hat covering his eyes.

“Ain’t sleepin’ tonight, doll.”

“When was the last time you slept? You look exhausted.” You reached over to put your hand on his. “You need to sleep, Cooper.”

He held your gaze for a few heartbeats, losing himself in your eyes. He had been worried about you since he crawled out of the grave Dom Pedro had kept him in. He was worried he’d never be able to find you, that perhaps you would be dead when he did get to you.

The ghoul pulled himself out of his own thoughts and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say, boss. Don’t let the Vaultie get too friendly.”

You smiled a little.

“Now you know that isn’t me, darling. I don’t let anyone get too friendly.”

“You let me get a little too friendly, if I remember correctly.”

“Shut your mouth, old man.” You smiled up at him. His grin you adored so much was covered up by the brim of his hat as he pulled it down.

You turned your attention to the girl that sat across from you.

“How long have you been upside?”

“Um, I-I don’t know for sure. A few weeks, I think.” She took another sip of water and then scooted a little closer to you so that she could hand the canteen back to you.

“Keep it.” You shook your head.

“Thank you.” She murmured quietly as she settled back into her spot. “Where, um, are you from?”

“Everywhere and nowhere all at once.” You let out a soft breath. “When you live for as long as I have, you don’t keep track of that sort of thing.”

“How…. How long have you been alive?”

“Long enough to know you don’t belong up here, Lucy.”

She held your gaze, almost too afraid to look away.

“I-I have to find my dad. He got taken by-by these raiders. They took him and I have to find him.”

You nodded gently. Lucy looked to the Ghoul, trying to figure out if he was asleep yet. After a couple moments of silence between you and Lucy, she could hear what sounded like gentle snoring.

“Icy, I need to find my dad. Please, you have to let me go.” She whispered.

“Quiet down, girl.” You stood to your feet, adjusting the holster that hung around your hips. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Where are you going?”

“Keep watch.”

***

Hours later, the blistering sun was just beginning its task of boiling the earth as it came up from the horizon.

You had been lost in thought, eyes gazing ahead at the sunrise. Your left eye, the cybernetic eye, kept track of the time, the rate the sun was rising, the temperature, and how fast the wind was going.

“Mornin’, pretty girl.”

You looked over your shoulder to see Cooper walking towards you.

“You slept good.” You commented, taking a sip of water. He had snored last night louder than you ever heard before.

“Easy to do when you’re around.” Cooper came to stand beside you, one hand finding the small of your back. “You know, I was– uh– I was worried bout you.”

“Same could be said for me to you.” Your eyes flickered across the baron land before you. There was nothing to see for miles and miles except dirt and remnants of destroyed buildings casting long shadows in the early morning light. “I’d heard whispers thrown around about what Dom Pedro was doing to you. When I get my hands on him–,”

“I don’t want you gettin’ anywhere near him, Icy Mae.”

You clenched your teeth together. Fiery anger swirled in your gut. Cooper’s hand on your back moved just slightly, rubbing your back in an effort to comfort you.

“No need in grinding those little teeth, doll.”

“I’ve spent three years trying to find you.”

“I know.”

“I want to kill him for what he’s done to you.”

Cooper let out a sigh.

“Lemme see those pretty eyes, doll.”

You turned your head away from him even more. You didn’t want him to see the tears that festered in your right eye.

“Look at me, Icy.”

You took in a breath through your nose before begrudgingly turning to face the ghoul. His fingertips found your jaw, tracing the soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. Blue eyes followed his fingertips as he brushed away the stray tear that slipped down your cheek.

“I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I got to you. So many people I talked to said that you had died.”

“You know ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me from you, doll. Not even death.” He was trying to use his voice to make you feel better. Sometimes you felt that all he had to do was say your name in that raspy drawl of his and everything would be cured.

“Stop trying to charm me, old man.”

“Oh, I ain’t tryin’ to do anything, darling.”

You turned your head away from him, trying to focus on anything else. But he took your chin in his hand, gently turning your head back to him. you had no choice but to look up into his eyes.

“Missed you, woman.” He spoke in a hushed whisper. You couldn’t stay angry with him looking at you. It was rare to see those stern eyes so bright. A smile snuck its way onto your lips. You turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand.

“Distracting me, old man, won’t make me change my mind.”

“He ain’t worth your trouble, doll.” His hand left your face and even though it was hot outside, you found yourself missing the warmth of his touch. He placed his hand on your side, drawing your body a little closer to his.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw something move. You turned your head, disappointed to see Lucy moving towards you and Cooper.

The ghoul sighed as he removed his hand from your side and adjusted his hat, pulling it down just enough so the brim covered his eyes. You turned to face the vault dweller.

“Good morning, Lucy.”

”Good morning.” She smiled lightly. She looked from you to Cooper, unsure of which of you to look at.

“We should leave.” Your words weren’t really meant for her, but instead for the large figure that stood so close behind you.

“Yeah, yeah.” Cooper grumbled. ”Let’s get this show on the road.”

***

A couple hours later, you all walked in a poor excuse of a line. Lucy led the way with you followed just shortly behind her and the Ghoul behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. Cooper kept his right hand on the handle of the gun holster on his hip. He gave you a light nod of his head, to which you smiled.

Lucy slowed down just a little to be able to walk alongside you.

“I just—,”

”Keep moving, Vaultie.” Cooper spoke up from behind you.

“Give her a second, darling.” You looked over your shoulder to flash him a toothy smile.

“Thank you.”

You looked at Lucy out of the corner of your right eye.

“For what?”

”For being so nice to me. Giving me water and-and talking to me.”

You said nothing to her.

”Can I ask you a question?”

”Depends on the question.”

”Is Icy your real name? The name you were born with?”

You almost laughed at her.

“Hardly. Icy is just a nickname I got through the years. Comes from my eye.” You tapped your left temple. You cybernetic eye was a bright blue almost icy color.

“What’s your real name?”

”Why does it matter what my real name is?” You glanced over to her.

”It-It doesn’t. I was just curious.”

”Curiosity will get you killed up here, girly. People don’t think it’s too kind and friendly to be asking all sorts of questions.”

“I-I’m– Okay.” Lucy pressed her lips into a tight line. It was so hard just to make conversation with people from the surface.

You slowed down just a bit so that Lucy would keep walking ahead of you.

“Told you not to be friendly with her.” Cooper bumped your shoulder with his. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not being friendly. Just trying to make conversation ‘cause I know you aren’t gonna be. What are you doing with her anyways?”

“Originally, I was gonna sell her for more vials. But now that you’re here, plans have changed a bit.” Cooper paused. “She’s a MacLean.”

You turned your head to Cooper, brows furrowing together. Without meaning to, you stopped walking.

“A what?”

“You heard me.”

“How?”

“She’s the daughter of Hank MacLean.”

Your fingers curled into fists by your sides. The very mention of Hank MacLean made your blood boil. The mention of anyone from Vault-Tec was enough to get you angry and ready to start fighting.

“What are we going to do with her?” You found yourself glaring at Lucy as she continued to walk, unaware that the both of you had stopped.

Cooper glanced over to you, adjusting the shotgun he held over his shoulder.

“Use her to get to her daddy.”

“They’ve ruined so many lives, Cooper. Vault-Tec has.”

“Oh, I know, darling.” He started walking again.

The anger in your stomach started to form into something else, into grief. There she was, Hank MacLean’s daughter, walking just ahead of you. Vault-Tec had ended so many lives, broken up so many families. Why did he get to have a family? Why did he get to see his daughter grow up?

Cooper stopped when he noticed you weren’t following him. He glanced back at you, taking note of your left hand that gripped the gun on your hip.

“Come on, Icy Mae.” He called for you. “Ain’t no use gettin’ worked up.”

Lucy stopped upon hearing the Ghoul say your name. She turned back to look at you. Your eyes met hers and you saw her furrow her brows together in confusion. Why did you look so upset, so angry?

“Don’t tell me how to be, Cooper.”

“I ain’t tellin’ you how to be, woman. Just telling you gettin’ mad ain’t gonna do nobody any good.”

“Is something wrong?” Lucy asked.

Your eyes left the girl to find Cooper.

“It isn’t fair, Coop.” You whispered, but he heard you just fine. He said nothing as he held your gaze. “Just isn’t fair.” You took your hand off of the gun and started walking again.

***

The day seemed to drag on for an eternity. No one had spoken very much. Everyone was tired and doing their best to make their energy last.

As the sun went away, camp was made on the outskirts of what used to be a town. The three of you took refuge inside of what appeared to be some kind of overturned bus. A battery powered lamp was on and sat in the middle of the bus, providing the otherwise pitch black night with a tiny source of light.

Lucy sat down against the roof of the bus, moving her hands around in an attempt to get comfortable with the rope around her wrist. You moved towards her, pulling a knife from its holster on your lower back.

”What are you doin’, woman?”

”Yeah, what are you doing?” Lucy shifted in her spot, eyes sticking to the knife you held. She tried to move away, pushing herself backwards. “Hey! Hey—!”

”Quiet down.” You muttered, kneeling down to cut away the rope.

“Oh.” Lucy watched the rope fall away then she rubbed her wrists. “Th-Thank you.”

“Icy, what the hell?”

”May as well let her get comfortable for the night.” You tucked the knife back into the sheath on your back. ”And she can’t go no where. We’re surrounded by nothing. She‘ll die from the elements before she gets far.”

Cooper sighed, putting his hands on his hips. You shrugged off your backpack and placed it down next to his bag. You sat down, adjusting your backpack before leaning against it.

“I’m gonna go have a look around.” He told you. “See if we’re alone out here.”

”Be careful.”

The ghoul gave you a nod, then turned towards Lucy.

“You try anything funny, Vaultie, and I won’t hesitate to skin you alive.”

“I-I won’t. I promise.”

You watched as Cooper slipped out of the overturned bus and disappeared into the night.

Once he was completely gone, you leaned forward to start taking off some of your layers. With the sun down, you didn’t have to worry about its harsh rays.

Lucy watched as you took off the jacket and placed it aside, then pulled the sweatshirt off of your head and added it to the jacket. You were left in a thin tank top that appeared to be a dark shade of brown. The gloves you wore came up to your elbows. You tugged each one off, setting them aside. With all the layers off, Lucy could now see the scars that covered your arms. They were darker than the rest of your skin and seemed to go in a gnarled and twisted pattern from the backs of your hands up to your shoulders.

You looked up, feeling eyes on you. The girl was watching you, her gaze curious but horrified all at once.

“I-I’m sorry.” She stuttered out. “What, um, what happened to you?”

”Got caught in a fire a few years back.” You rubbed your left arm, then started to rub the right one.

”Is that what happened to your eye?”

You stopped moving, her question catching you off guard.

You reached behind you into one of the side pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Then you settled back against the backpack, bringing your eyes up to meet hers.

Your cybernetic eye read her vitals and told you that she was nervous. A slightly elevated heart rate and increased breathing.

”No.” You put the cigarette between your lips then pulled a lighter from a pocket on your pants. “My eye was taken from me at the start of the war.”

”Oh.” She was quiet for a few heartbeats, looking away from you. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”

”Vault-Tec.”

Your answer seemed to surprise her. She drew her eyebrows together.

”Vault-Tec?”

“It’s a long story, girly.” Your face lit up a little as you lit the cigarette.

”Well…. We’ve got time.”

”That we do.” You sunk down a little more to get comfortable.

Lucy could tell you didn’t really want to talk about your eye or Vault-Tec or your scars anymore. She looked down at her hands, rubbing her wrists just a little more before she let out a soft breath.

“How do you know him? That guy?”

”Known him for a while.” You turned your attention to the black sky. ”Ran into each other ages ago. We’d go our separate ways no and again but somehow…. Somehow we always run into each other.”

If the man in question hadn’t been so mean and callous, perhaps Lucy would have smiled.

“But how can you…. How can you be with someone like that? Someone who-who is okay with so much murder and so much cruelty?”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, debating on what to say next. Lucy thought perhaps you were ignoring her, but then you slowly sat up. You crossed your legs and leaned forward with your elbows on your knees.

“I used to have a daughter.” Your voice was hushed, eyes cast down to the flashlight providing a little bit of light. You took a deep inhale of the cigarette. In the same moment that you breathed out a cloud of smoke, you continued to talk. “Used to have a husband too. He was a good man. He’d move heaven and earth for me and my girl.”

You paused to see if Lucy would say anything. When she remained silent, you carried on.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Miss MacLean. You’ve only ever known comfort your whole life. You don’t know what people have had to endure up here…. what good people have had to do…. in order to survive.”

Lucy looked away, unable to hold your gaze any longer.

“There are no rules up here, no guidelines, no sense of ethics. If you want to survive, you have to do things you wouldn’t normally do. Good men do bad things to make sure they survive.”

Lucy directed her eyes downward. You flicked the cigarette ashes down onto the ground beside you.

“I’m-I’m sorry about your family.”

Your gaze was drawn to the girl once more.

“About everything you’ve been through.”

A whistle made both of you turn your heads. Lucy almost started to panic, but you shook your head gently.

”It’s just Cooper.” You took another puff from the cigarette. A few moments of silence passed before the Ghoul was making his way back into the overturned bus. “Find anything?” You sat up and offered him the cigarette.

“Nah, there’s nothin’ here but us and dirt.” He sat down next to you, settling with sitting up while you stayed hunkered down with your head on the backpack.

Lucy moved around a bit to get herself comfortable, choosing to lay on her side with her arm under her head as she faced the light.

”It’s your turn to get some sleep, woman.”

You turned your head to look up at Cooper.

“Don’t know if I’m gonna be able to sleep much, darling.” You took the cigarette back from him and puffed on it a little bit.

“You should try.”

You hummed but said nothing more.

After a few minutes, Lucy fell asleep, giving you and the ghoul next to you the smallest bits of privacy.

Neither of you said anything for a long time. You passed the cigarette back and forth until it was finished up by Cooper.

You scooted closer to him, trying to get as deep into his side as you could. He lifted his arm until you were comfortable, then he put his arm down around you, his hand resting on your shoulder.

”I haven’t been able to stop thinking about killing her all day, Cooper.” You murmured.

“Oh, yeah?”

”I want to take her head to her father.”

He looked down at you, unsure if what he had heard was what you said.

”He shouldn’t get to have a family. No one at Vault-Tec should.”

”You’re gonna get yourself all worked up, doll. Best not go down that rabbit hole tonight.”

You took a deep breath, reaching your hand up to hold on to his fingers.

”I don’t want to feel that way, Coop. I don’t want to hurt her.”

”Hush now.” Cooper leaned down to kiss your head. “Get some sleep, Icy Mae.”

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