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nocasdatsgay · 2 months ago

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A Lesson in Heartbreak

2 of 3: Words are Painful Weapons

Rating: T | Word Count: 3983 | Pairing: Azris/Reader

Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Part 1| Read Below

Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue, alcohol, drunk!Eris

A/N: HI so… yeah… I am alive. Sorry this took so long. A second shout out to @daycourtofficial for inspiration with Azriel and his comments when he comes back.

Tagging: @myromanempiree @pit-and-the-pen @lilah-asteria @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @paleidiot @div94 (if you are tagged by accident or want to be tagged in the future, let me know)

“There. A letter to Tarquin and a letter to her.” Eris sent them with a flick of his wrist.

Azriel calmed enough to sit while Eris penned the letters. They needed you to come home so they could talk with you in person. Deep down, Eris was thoroughly embarrassed over the whole situation. Not only at himself but for you leaving to another court. He wondered if this was how Tamlin felt all those years ago, when Feyre ran off to the Night Court. Eris suddenly had empathy for him in retrospect.

He slumped back in his chair and sighed. He needed a stiff drink. But he wanted to be sober if you came home. Azriel sat across from him, arms crossed against his chest and brows furrowed like he did when he was deep in thought. His eyes were still rimmed in red from earlier. The Shadows were nowhere in sight.

“What?” Eris looked at his mate.

Az cut his eyes to Eris, still frowning. “I want you to tell me exactly what you said to her.”

“I’m surprised your shadows didn’t already tell you.” Eris didn’t hold back his eye roll or his sigh. “I don’t fully remember.”

Everything was a blur from earlier. When he got like that, he never remembered what he said.

“Well think fucking harder.” Eris could see Azriel’s fingers dig into his sleeves.

“She came in screaming at me about missing dinner.” It reminded him too much of his mother. The way she would yell at his father when he was a youngling. Eris tried to focus, to put that aside. “I told her the high lord meeting was more important. We were hosting, and.”

After a moment Az said, “And what, Eris”

He cursed under his breath. “I said she would understand that if she had bothered to help. Since she isn’t helping, she doesn't get to complain that we are busy. She knew what she was getting into when we mated.”

Azriel recoiled where he sat. “How could you say that to her?”

“It’s the truth, Azriel.” Eris brushed back his hair with his hand. “This is what it’s like to be mated to a High Lord. We have responsibilities. Yes, I was wrong for implying she didn’t want to help because she asked and I told her she didn’t have to. I admit that.”

Shadows came out as Az replied. “And we made promises we didn’t keep.”

“I know I did. It eats me alive that I broke them but what else am I supposed to do? It’s our first time hosting, I’ve only been High Lord for a decade and a half. She’s worked for multiple courts. She knows these things have to be perfect or others will talk.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t take a break to have dinner with her.” Az countered.

Eris glared at him. “Do not act like you are any better. You weren’t there either.”

He winced. “You’re right. I wasn’t.” Then he glared back. “But maybe I would have been there if you let other people do their job instead of making it our problem.”

“Oh you’re going to blame me?” Eris was on his feet. “By the gods. I’m always your scapegoat because it’s easy to blame me than for you to look in a fucking mirror.”

“Eris.” A warning, as shadows built around him.

“Am I wrong?” Azriel didn’t answer. Eris and his sharp tongue kept going. “You blamed me for centuries when it came to Mor. To this court. To my father. Let’s just add this to it.” He paused. Before he could stop himself he added. “It wouldn’t even be a fucking issue if it was just us.”

Eris felt the shock through the bond from Az before he shut him out. Even the shadows recoiled from around Az.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t have to repeat myself. We work well together,” he gestured between them, “because we know what to expect from each other. She wants so much more than either of us are capable of.”

Shadows shrunk back again. “That’s not true.”

“It is!” Then words spewed from his mouth like viper venom. “I wish Elain never told us. I wish I never let you get your fucking hopes up, looking for a third bond in every fucking fae you brought to our bed. But I love you, so I let you do it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Azriel was on his own feet, siphons on his hands flashing. “I always got your consent, you said it was fine. You brought your own-”

Eris’s mouth ran away from him again. He didn’t raise his voice; his tone did the work for him.

“Maybe I lied. I only took other lovers so you wouldn’t feel guilty. I was just trying to make you happy because I was never enough for you. Even the Mother herself knew. She knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent us her.”

Az looked like he’d been struck. Guilt and insecurity Eris had buried for decades laid out on full display. At that moment Eris hoped Azriel hurt just as much as he did. The silence between them was heavy and loud. It was finally Azriel who spoke, his own words sharp and stinging.

“I never asked to be mated to you. You say this is easier for me and you, but it’s only easy for you. What’s easy is loving her. It’s not my fault you’re too fucked up to know that too.”

Shadows grew thick around him and he winnowed out of the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You showered and changed into a soft seafoam colored nightgown, given to you by Samira. She was sitting by a small side table reading when you came back into the bedroom. She set her book down and got up from her seat.

“Did you tell him, Tarquin?” You asked.

In your haste to get away, you didn’t think about the implications of your actions. Namely as High Lord’s mate seeking refuge in another court. You liked Tarquin a lot. He was kind and you were so happy when Samira and him hit it off. But he was still a High Lord of another court. Samira didn’t look you in the eyes from where she had sat on the edge of the bed.

“I only told him what you told me.”

“That’s fine,” you said quickly. You got onto the bed and crawled up beside her. “I understand. If you hadn’t told him, I would have.”

“That said,” she put her hand over yours. “You’re here as my guest. Any correspondence will come directly to me unless there is a threat to the court.”

You winced and she gave you a sympathetic look. Your mates were both known for their tempers. Azriel was well known for his impulsive behavior. You prayed to the Mother that neither of them acted irrationally. A hard thing to hope knowing you sealed this room the moment you entered.

“Did you want some tea or do you want to rest for the night?”

“Tea. I need to talk if you’re willing to listen.”

“Always,” she smiled.

You grabbed a light robe and moved into the small sitting room. She waited as Samira had tea brought to the room. She fixed you a cup, and then she sat down and took her own in her hands.

“So what happened?”

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to figure out where to start.

You explained the best you could. How they both made a promise to go to dinner and neither showed. You explained how distant they’d been for months. You explained how Eris told you that dinner wasn’t as important as whatever he was working on with the upcoming summit.

“He said I knew what I was getting into when we mated. As if I’m not managing his court while his nose is stuck in itinerary lists.” You added bitterly.

She winced. “And Azriel? What did he say about all this?”

“He said he was sorry. He lost track of time. Conveniently he was silent when I asked why his shadows didn’t remind him.” You stared down at the tea in your hand. You could feel your eyes water again. “He hasn’t- he has always been more physically affectionate than Eris. Out in public, at least. But he hasn’t even-“

You stopped yourself, your face burning. Samira didn’t need to know how Az hadn’t even called you by a specific pet name in weeks. Eris even longer. And how was you supposed to explain they even stopped just casually touching you? It was childish, to be upset about something so silly. Yet thinking about it just made you cry again.

You wiped your eyes. “It just feels as if they don’t want me anymore.”

“They're your mates, of course they want you.”

“Mates doesn’t always mean love, Samira. They did just fine without me for what? Two decades? Maybe longer. Maybe they miss it just being the two of them.”

“Now you’re talking nonsense. Stop it,” she gave you a pointed look.

“What if it’s the truth?” You were so sick of crying. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “They know each other so well. What do they need me for?”

They didn’t.

That was your whole issue. They didn’t need you. Eris and Az could practically communicate without words. They moved around each other seamlessly. Eris knew exactly how Az liked his tea. Az knew to move papers closer to the inside of the desk when Eris was on a rant, his hands moving about as he talked. Eris knew when to make the spare room without even asking Azriel if he needed it. You tried to watch, to listen. Five years and you still weren’t in tune with them.

Samira shuffled in her seat, drawing your attention back to her.

“Eris wrote a letter to Tarquin. I got it while you were bathing. It wasn’t much, just him requesting to know if you were here and if so, that you get this.” She held up an envelope with his seal on it. “I wrote back that I would handle communication and you’d be staying the night.”

She laid the letter on the table in front of you. Your chest ached, begging you to open it immediately. You shoved it down.

Samira added, “I informed him that if you want to stay longer, I can’t make you leave. Tarquin has already agreed to allow you to stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” you whispered and stared back down at your tea again.

“Sleep on it. You can have breakfast with us and decide what you want to do in the morning.”

You nodded. Sleep sounded nice now that the adrenaline of the evening had crashed. You drained the rest of your tea and bid Samira good night. You left the letter on the table. You’d read it in the morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris poured himself the stiffest drink he’d had in decades. The shame and embarrassment of everything was still burning in his chest. He downed his drink in one swing and poured another. Both his mates were gone. He walked over to his desk where the correspondence with summer sat. Your friend had written back instead of Tarquin. He downed his second drink.

To make things less complicated, I will be handling correspondence until this is resolved. Unless there is a threat to the court, I will not involve the high lord. I promise I will give her your letter in the morning. She was distraught when she arrived and I’ve just gotten her calmed. She’s currently bathing and I will get her some tea to help her sleep.

There was a break in the letter and she added.

She has yet to tell me what happened fully, but as her friend I am warning you both that you two better make this right. I will try to convince her to return in the morning, but she is a grown female. If she requests to stay, Tarquin has already told me she may.

Eris tossed the letter back onto the desk. He doubted once you found out Az left too that you’d come home. It’s what he deserved.

He was a fool to think he could do this- have two mates. To think he could be any better than his father. Three years mated to you and he still couldn’t control himself. Couldn’t toe the line between work and leisure. Fifteen mated to Az and he still spewed venom in his direction the moment he was cornered. And Eris finally got a taste of his own medicine when Azriel spewed it right back.

With a heavy sigh, Eris pulled out more parchment and ink. There would not be a high lord summit- not with all of this happening. He’d draft the letters and send them in the morning. If he could sleep at all, with no one sharing his bed. He went and made a third drink. He opened his bonds and see if you or Az would respond.

Still shut out. The urge to down that third drink was strong. He needed to be sober in the morning even if he didn’t want to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Azriel flew until his emotions settled. Eris’s foul words rung in his ears still. ‘I wish Elain never told us’ he’d said. ‘Even the mother herself knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent her.’

His eyes watered and it wasn’t from the wind in them. There was an ache in his chest- both bonds were shut out. He and Eris fought plenty, before and after they reconciled and the bond snapped. Somehow this was still the worst. He ignored his own words that spewed like venom in response to what Eris had said.

Azriel was angry and hurt. He left- if he stayed any longer the whole Forest House may have been burned to the ground. He circled the border between Autumn and Winter. He couldn't go back, not tonight. He landed in a clearing, stretching out his wings before tucking them back in. He didn’t want to go to Valeris. He had one other option. His shadows seemed to agree, as they circled him and he winnowed.

He landed outside the wards of Rosehall. The fae lights shown through the window.

She is awake. a shadow whispered.

He thought about turning back. He didn’t want to disturb his mother, to bother her with his problems. Yet his feet carried him forward, the wards rippling around him. He tucked his wings in tight and walked to the door. He didn‘t have to knock; the wards were designed to let only few in and to notify her when someone arrived. He could hear the rush of footsteps inside and braced himself as the door opened.

“Azriel?” His mother answered the door, a navy shawl you made for her wrapped tight around her shoulders, sides shaped to accommodate her wings. “What has happened?”

”I had a fight with my mates.” He said quickly. “They’re fine; I just- I couldn’t stay.”

His mother brushed back loose hair to tuck it behind her ear. He realized her hair was half braided. She nodded, and stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry, I can go.”

”Nonsense, come in. I just made tea.”

His shadows swirled past him, one or two weaving around his mother. They always loved her; probably more than him if he was honest. He stepped through the frame and looked around. He had visited two weeks ago and already things had changed. His heart skipped, looking into the sitting room. Feyre had taken to decorating his mother’s house with portraits and paintings. The one above the fireplace was of him and his mother. It was a new one on the wall to the left that wasn’t there two weeks ago that made him stop in his tracks. It was of his mother, himself, you, and Eris. From your mating ceremony, based on the clothing and how close together you all were.

“The High Lady spoils me,” his mother said from his right. “Says my house is too empty. You should see the garden painting she had mounted in the hall a few days ago. Come.”

He felt her hand grab his own. He could only grip back loosely. He didn’t realize how cold his fingers had gotten from flying. If she noticed, she didn’t say. She led him to the kitchen where a kettle sat on the stove. He sat at the small table and watched almost numbly while she gathered cups and poured the tea.

“Zemër, tell me what happened.”

Az looked down at the cup as she sat it in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it, letting the warmth ease the stiffness in his hands. If he was home, Eris would do it for him. He pushed that thought away. He took a few sips, relishing in how the warmth flowed through his chest. His mother waited patiently across from him, braiding the rest of her hair for bed.

“I said some things I shouldn’t have.” His shadows nudged him on the shoulder. “I made a promise and didn’t keep it.” She hummed and tied off her hair. His voice cracked a little when he added. “I don’t know if I can fix it.”

There was a beat of silence and his mother took a sip of her tea. “Why do you think such a thing?”

“Because she left!” He snapped. His mother flinched and shadows hissed at him for raising his voice. “I’m sorry. She left and he- we’ve been so busy and she asked for one dinner and neither of us went. Then she left. And Eris said things. So I said things back.”

He hated that hot tears fell down his cheeks. And that his mother was looking at him with pity. She reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly in her own.

“Words are painful weapons and you are the best warrior in all prythian.” That made Azriel snort and she smiled softly. “This is a fight. Not a war. You haven’t lost yet. They are your mates. You love them. If you haven’t given up your love for them, what makes you think they have so easily given up their love for you?”

She had him there. He gave her hand a squeeze, a gesture of thanks. Then a shadow swirled up his arm quickly.

We must go. He furrowed his brows. He walks to our balcony. We must stop him. We must go. Go.

“Shit.” Azriel winced at himself. He hated cursing in front of his mother. “Mama, I have to go. Thank you. For the tea.”

She watched him stand, not letting go of his hand. “Be careful, my love.”

Despite the tugging of the shadows he gave his mother a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you in two weeks. I promise.”

She nodded and he winnowed away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At some point, Eris wasn’t sure when; he grabbed the whole bottle instead of pouring himself a glass. He couldn’t sleep. Not alone, with his thoughts and past memories hovering around the edges of the bed. They we’re waiting in the dark to grip him when he was most vulnerable. So instead he drank. Drank to numb the emptiness like he used to in the days before.

One minute he was in his chambers and the next he was stumbling up stairs. There were several balconies in the forest house but there was only one nearest to the roof. He built it for Azriel. It had no railings, just a place for him to take off when he went flying. Az swore he didn’t need it; but he still used it. In Eris’s mind, Az would use the balcony when he came back home.

Because he had to come home. You both had to come home. Eris didn’t think he could bear it if you didn’t. It took him a moment when he reached the door to focus enough to grab the handle. Gods, he hadn’t been this drunk since his youth. Pushing into the room, it was bare- save the single old couch, rug, and unlit fireplace. His gaze fixated on the double glass doors that led to the balcony. If he could just get out there, he could wait.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Eris nearly fell over, balance upended by Az’s voice behind him. He grabbed Eris by his shirt to pull him steady. Shadows that had been absent swirled in his vision, grazing his hair and neck as if checking him over. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning and his focus fixated on the male before him.

“You came back,” Eris whispered.

“Of course I did.” Azriel’s nose crinkled at Eris’ breath. “You're drunk.”

“Can’t sleep.” He felt his eyes water. He reached for Azriel’s shoulder but Az held him in place. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Look at me,” Az’s hands were cold as they cradled Eris’ face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

“Your hands are cold.” He muttered, his own reaching up to cover them. He wasn’t sober enough to focus his magic like he wanted to.

“They are.” Az gave him a soft smile. “I’ll live.”

Eris frowned. “Why did you come back?”

To Azriel’s credit, he didn’t seem shocked at the question.

“I came back because I love you.” And Azriel meant it.

“But you said-“

“I said it’s not easy.” He paused for a moment. “It’s not easy but I choose you. I will always choose you. Because I love you.”

There was silence between them for a moment.

“She’s not coming back.”

Az grimaced. “Eris, it’s late. She’s safe in Summer and probably sleeping. Like we both should be.”

“But I need her here.” Eris could hardly bear it. He needed you back. He needed to apologize. “Can’t we go get her?”

“So you want to start a war with Summer?” Az’s face was serious but there was a tilt in his voice.

“You’re laughing at me.” Eris replied solemnly.

“You’re drunk. It’s hard not to.” He sighed, his wings slumping and shadows buzzing about them. “Let’s go to bed and sleep this off.”

Eris was silent but seemed to concede. Az guided him out the room and back to their chambers. He would have winnowed if Eris hadn’t been so inebriated. He really didn’t feel like cleaning up vomit.

“You’re too good to me,” Eris muttered as they made their way down the hall.

Az tightened his arm around him. “I could argue the same.”

More silence passed. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

Azriel didn’t reply. He could only hope. His shadows whispered as much as he helped Eris undress in their chamber and get him to bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In Summer, you tossed and turned. The air was too warm even with the cool magical breeze that floated through the open windows. The bed was too small. Too empty. You finally cast a spell on your blanket and pillows, making them colder. How funny you’d gotten used to Autumn's colder climate.

The spell worked too well. You were suddenly too cold, too cold without Eris and Az’s body heat to keep you warm. Tears fell on your pillow. They were probably sleeping fine without you. Your mind went to the letter you left in the other room. You were too afraid to open it. They probably only wanted you home until after the High Lords’ meeting. Or maybe they never wanted you to come back. You pulled the blanket tight around yourself. Whatever the letter said could wait until morning.

You sighed and tried to go to sleep.

Part 3

#neapolitan bonds #eris vanserra #acotar #azriel #azriel/eris/reader #reader x Azris #part 2 #a lesson in heartbreak

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dreamwritesimagines · 9 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [17] - Disagreements

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Petty fights can start out of nowhere.

Word Count: 2800

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Waking up and not finding Bucky in bed next to you wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

He always woke up before you, but this was the first time you were hearing a second, very familiar voice booming through the house and you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes.

What on earth was your father doing in your apartment this early on in the morning?

You pushed the covers off of you and looked around the room for Alpine but she wasn’t there either. Grabbing the first thing you found -which turned out to be one of Bucky’s crisp white button up shirts- you pulled it over your tank top and shorts, then went downstairs, following the voices.

“If this has been your plan all along,” your father’s stern voice reached your ear from Bucky’s office, “I swear to God—”

“I don’t have any plans,” Bucky’s much calmer voice replied and you pulled your brows together, approaching the doorframe but still shielding yourself from their gaze. Alpine meowed when she saw you, running to you but neither of them seemed to notice it.

“No?” your father asked. “So this is not some sort of elaborate plot to take over my territory?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why was she having a briefing with Rogers?”

“Because I don’t think my wife should be kept out of the business entirely,” Bucky said as you bent down to scratch at Alpine’s head before straightening your back again. “It’s the new generation, we do things differently now.”

Your father let out a furious breath.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t care what you do with your own business, but if you’re putting ideas into my daughter’s head—”

“Arthur, she’s smart as fuck, you do realize that?” Bucky snapped, making you smirk. “There’s no idea I can put into her head that she hasn’t thought about to begin with.”

“Not to mention,” you said and stepped into the office, making both of them turn to look at you. “She has a phone. So if you wanted to see me, you could just let me know.”

Your father gritted his teeth and stole a look at Bucky. “Give us a minute.”

If it were anyone else, you were sure they would be hurrying off to the door because you had seen your father intimidate countless men throughout your life, but Bucky didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest as he leaned back to his desk.

“This is my house,” he replied, making your father blink a couple of times.

“And I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”

Bucky turned to look at you as if silently asking if you wanted him to leave and you shook your head, then crossed your arms.

“Anything you want to say, you can say it in front of my husband,” you told him, making Bucky grin proudly. “So?”

Your father’s glare at you was enough to make the sudden chill of nervousness shoot through you, but you didn’t let it show on your face as he shook his head.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I literally woke up to you guys’ yelling to be honest—”

“Having a meeting with Rogers,” he cut you off impatiently as if he didn’t have the time for your jokes. “What is that about?”

You let a smirk pull your lips.

“Did Ian come and cry to you about it?” you asked. “Honestly.”

“He did let me know, yes,” he said. “As he was supposed to. Seeing that you weren’t planning on telling me about it, I’m glad he did.”

“You have your messenger boy there already,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s clear you don’t need me to tell you anything.”

He took a deep breath like he was trying his hardest to stay calm and you stole a look at Bucky who gave you an assuring smile, watching you two.

“Sweetheart,” he said, the slight condescending tone in his voice making you clench your jaw. “I know that you want to be a part of the business, and Bucky is for some reason fueling this nonsense, but—”

“He’s not fueling anything,” you growled. “I happen to have my own mind, unlike what you seem to think.”

“Y/N—”

“I mean who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“Okay!” Bucky cut you two off before your father could answer. “Can I suggest we all calm down before anyone says anything they might regret?”

Both you and your father looked at him before turning to glare at each other again and your father pursed his lips, heaving a sigh.

“I’m not trying to patronize you,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Might be too late for that.”

“But I need you to be safe,” he said, making Bucky frown for the first time. “And becoming a part of the business��”

“To repeat, I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not putting her in danger, Arthur,” Bucky said, his voice calm despite the stern expression on his face. “You know I would never.”

“Right,” your father scoffed and gave you a warning look. “Y/N, I mean it. What you’re trying to do—”

“What makes you think I’m trying to do anything?”

“Because I wrote the playbook you’re following,” your father replied. “I taught you every single trick, and now you’re going to turn around and treat me like I’m clueless?”

You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.

“I’m not doing anything that you haven’t been doing with me for years now,” you said. “You pushed me out of the picture, you’ve been treating me with kid gloves and you have the audacity to give me that speech right now?”

He ran a hand over his face.

“I’m only doing what your mother would like, for you.”

You let out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No,” you said. “You’re doing what you would like, for me. And I’m done letting you.”

You could see a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared at you for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“We will talk later when you’re calmer,” he said and stormed out of the office before you heard the front door slam. You rolled your eyes and turned to Bucky who gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“Good morning,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” you asked back and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Hungry though. Breakfast?”

You huffed out a laugh and nodded your head.

“Yes please,” you said. “Jesus, what a morning.”

It wasn’t that you kept the fact that you were meeting Ethan this afternoon a secret, it was just that you didn’t think Bucky needed to know about it. This marriage was fake yes, and it wasn’t like you were having a secret affair meeting, you two were just friends and it was a normal gather up with your friend.

Or at least, that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of the whole morning.

You drummed your fingernails on the table and reached out to grab your cup to take a sip of your latte, but lowered it when the wind bells by the door chimed and your gaze fell on Ethan. He looked around the café, then gave you a small smile and approached you as you stood up.

“Hey,” he said, giving you a curt hug and you smiled as he pulled back, then sat down again.

“Hi,” you said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you two,” he said as he sat down and ordered a coffee. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “You?”

“Busy a bit. You look—” he paused for a moment when his eyes fell upon your wedding ring. “Married.”

You let out a nervous laugh and heaved a sigh.

“Mm hm.”

He pursed his lips together and took a deep breath.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, making you shake your head.

“Ethan…”

“I do,” he said. “I’m—It was stupid to say all that shit. Trust me, I wanted to text and apologize so many times, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear my voice.”

You rolled your eyes at him in a lighthearted manner.

“Ethan, you happen to be the only person in my life who’s not…” you trailed off and he gave you a small smile.

“Who’s not following the same career path?”

You clicked your tongue. “That’s one way to put it,” you said, making him chuckle. “So yeah, I reacted badly as well. I was very tense when we had that conversation.”

He offered his hand. “Truce then?”

You scoffed a laugh, then reached out to shake his hand.

“Everyone knows I’m a big fan of truce,” you said and he grinned, then thanked the waitress when she brought his coffee.

“So,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee. “How is it then? Do guns go off when you and Barnes enter the building or…?”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Ethan.”

“Do you guys do that Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit?”

“Wrong movie reference.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Does he still dislike me?”

The correct and honest answer would be that Bucky didn’t even think about Ethan, at least in your opinion. Not only did he have bigger problems what with HYDRA and their attacks in the city, his dynamic with the other bosses were bound to get tense with you officially becoming a part of the business.

So, he was probably too busy to sit around and think about Ethan.

“Nah I don’t think so,” you managed to say, leaning back. “That night at the club, I know he was an asshole but we were…things were weird between us then.”

“I’d say so,” he said, and licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you said. “As long as I can answer it hypothetically, that is.”

“Is it real?”

That managed to make you pull back slightly and you blinked a couple of times before heaving a sigh.

“I don’t understand what you—”

“Because I’d like to think that we had something, back at college,” he said, making your brows furrow. “And that night at the club, you weren’t looking at him like…I could’ve sworn you hated him, Y/N.”

“Like I said, things were weird between us then,” you muttered, turning the coffee cup in this saucer and he shook his head.

“And it changed that fast?” he asked. “Listen, I’m going to shut up if you don’t want me to talk about this, but if it’s not real—”

“If it’s not real, you’ll save me?” you asked with a scoff. “I’m not some princess in a castle Ethan.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“Hypothetically, even if it weren’t—”

“Hypothetically,” he cut you off. “I’d happily wait for your divorce.”

That made you stop talking as your eyes snapped up to his and you gawked at him in a dumbfounded silence.

Ah.

Alright, this was…

The idea was quite lovely, to be honest. As you had told Becca, being with Ethan would be so simple, he was a civilian so there would be no ulterior motives or plotting or any of the tension you knew each and every couple in business had. Not only that, but Bucky had broken your heart so terribly all those years ago and you were sure that if you decided to see or treat this marriage like a real marriage, he would do it again.

Unlike Ethan.

Dear God, it would be so peaceful.

But you knew you couldn’t deal with whatever this was when you were going for your father’s crown. This right here was a distraction, and you couldn’t entertain the idea of a distraction.

You clicked your tongue and sat up straighter, checking the time.

“Sorry, I just remembered I had this thing,” you muttered, desperate to get away and he stood up as you did.

“Y/N,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry if that sounded—”

“No no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t…I get what you mean, I really do. And as much as I know you mean well, saying this now is very disrespectful to Bucky so I’d rather if we didn’t speak about this again.”

He pursed his lips and nodded his head.

“Understood,” he said. “I won’t, I promise.”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you asked and gave him a short hug, then walked out of the café, your heart beating fast.

“What the fuck was that?” you muttered to yourself as you got into your car and let out a breath, then started driving.

As you walked into the Barnes skyscraper, you were still trying to comprehend just why the hell, out of all things to say to Ethan, you had chosen ‘disrespect to Bucky’ as your answer. What Ethan had said wasn’t even so bad, you had been reminding Bucky that you two would eventually get a divorce and even talk about all the things you’d do on your second wedding and marriage to someone else, but when Ethan so much as mentioned waiting for your divorce, you had decided to draw the line?

This was rather absurd.

You rolled your shoulders back as someone escorted you to the elevator and pressed the button for you and you checked your reflection in the mirror until you got to the top floor and the doors opened.

“I can find my way, thank you,” you said told the bodyguard and walked out of the elevator to make your way to Bucky’s office.

“Is he in?” you asked the receptionist who stood up when she saw you.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Great, thank you,” you said and knocked on the door, then opened it to step inside. Bucky was sitting behind his desk, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the computer screen, but he turned his head when he saw you and raised his brows.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said and approached the couch to fling yourself on it, crossing your legs. “So my father didn’t call me after this morning, has George called you?”

“No.”

The curt answer made you tilt your head and you frowned at him.

“Have you heard from anyone else?” you asked. “Because I feel like—”

“How was lunch with Ethan?”

That made you stop talking and you raised your brows, your stomach doing a flip.

“Are you having me followed?” you asked sharply through your teeth and he let out a bitter chuckle.

“I don’t need to have you followed,” he said. “You met the guy in my territory in case you forgot.”

You licked your lips, crossing your arms defiantly.

“So what, am I supposed to report back to you every single thing I do now?”

“I think I’d like to know if you’re meeting your ex -who by the way, still wants to fuck you- like a week after our wedding, yeah,” he shot back, making your jaw drop.

“Easy there, cowboy.”

“Y/N we had an agreement—”

“Does it look like I’m sleeping with him from where you’re sitting?” you asked. “I know the agreement. You don’t sleep with anyone else and neither do I, until our divorce.”

“Then?”

“Then I can have lunch with whoever I want.”

“To repeat, he wants to—”

“It was a friendly lunch and he just apologized for reacted badly when I told him we would be getting married,” you defended yourself hurriedly, knowingly leaving out the part Ethan said about your potential divorce and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh I wonder why he reacted badly to us getting married,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “What could it be? Any ideas?”

God damn it.

“This is not even a real marriage,” you hissed as you leaned in, careful not to speak too loud in case anyone outside could hear. “Or did you forget about that part?”

“Did you forget about the part we’re supposed to act madly in love?” he asked back, his voice calm unlike yours and even though he did have a point, the petulant part of you refused to acknowledge it, so you did the first thing you thought of and got up from the couch.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m done I said!” you snapped over your shoulder and walked out of the office without looking back, making your way to the elevator. Your heart was beating in your ears and you grabbed your phone, and touched Becca’s name as the doors closed, the elevator moving.

“Hey,” Becca’s voice reached you. “What’s up?”

“I snapped at Ethan for disrespecting Bucky and then snapped at Bucky within the same hour,” you said and she paused for a moment, then hummed.

“I’m getting the wine ready,” she said. “Grab some sushi on your way here?”

“You got it,” you said and hung up the phone, then leaned your head back to the elevator wall. “What the actual fuck am I doing?”

Chapter 18

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob au #mob!au

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hyunluvbug · 3 months ago

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show me how to love | four - please forgive me

pairing: hyunjin x afab reader

content warnings: 🔞NSFW!! MDNI!, just some kissing, hickeys, a bit of dry humping 0-0

a/n: lowkey i think this sucks but i have been in a writing slump for MONTHS. so i hope u enjoy otherwise T_T. thanks for reading!

Y/n hasn’t heard a single word from Hyunjin since that night. After their semi big argument, Han took her home and she cried the night away. It has been two days and she has no idea what Hyunjin is thinking. If she knows Hyunjin as well as she knows she does, he is probably running away from his feelings. A habit that he does frequently when confronted with any sort of emotion.

Han has visited her on several occasions but she refuses to talk about it. All she wants to do is curl up on the sofa and drown her sorrows in sad tv shows. She blows her nose as the soft rain patters at her kitchen window. The lights of other apartments are illuminating the dark sky. A soft knock on her door cuts through her thoughts.

Who would be here at this hour? She pushes the warm and cozy blanket off her lap and walks over to the door. She peeks through the peephole to see Hyunjin, he is wearing a dark gray hoodie that is sprinkled with big patches of rain. His black hair is completely soaked and his arms are crossed over his chest. She stands back and hesitates before she unlocks the door and pulls it open.

Hyunjin looks up at her and she avoids his eyes. His eyes look past her to see her tv playing "The Notebook" and her coffee table covered in tissues. “What are you doing here?” Hyunjin does not say anything and walks right past her. She shuts the door and turns to see him standing by the sofa.

“I am really sorry for how I acted.” Hyunjin mumbles and she looks up to him. His eyes are clouded with something she has never seen before. She didn’t know why but it made her heart rate pick up. “I shouldn’t have run away like that. I think it just scared me.”

“What scared you? My feelings?” she asks and he looks down at his hands anxiously.

“Not yours, mine.”

She processes his words and tries her best to not stare at him. She has never seen him look so sad and lost in his own thoughts.

“I think it’s time I stop lying to myself.” Hyunjin sits down on the sofa and she sits beside him. “I don’t know why I feel like this. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me Hyunjin.” She looks at him with a small smile and he nods slowly. She sighs softly and Hyunjin’s hand finds its way to hers. He turns to her to look her in the eyes, “ I am so sorry Y/n. You didn’t deserve how I just up and left. It’s so hard for me to share my feelings. Even with you. The last thing I want to do is ruin our friendship.”

“Our friendship could never be ruined. We’re Hyunjin and Y/n. The dynamic duo.” She teases to lighten the mood. The last thing she wanted to hear was Hyunjin friend zoning her. Their argument before had hurt enough.

“Just let me finish.” he picks up both her hands and rubs the back of her palms. “When you told me you loved me, I got scared. Scared absolutely shitless. I have never truly been with someone let alone love someone. But, I know that I do love you Y/n. It fucking terrifies me how much I could love a person.” Hyunjin sniffles, tears are beginning to cloud his vision. “I wanna be with you but I don’t know how to do this.”

“Hyunjin.” She places her hands on his cheeks and he leans into her touch. “I love you. I love you so much and I want nothing more than to be the person that you are in love with. I know it is scary. But we are in this together.” She smiles at him. Her fingers wipe away his tears and he pulls her closer to him. She falls into his chest and he wraps his arms around her into a hug. They both are silent as they embrace each other's warmth.

Hyunjin pulls away and puts his hands on her cheek, “Can I kiss you?” She nods eagerly and his soft lips meet hers. It is beyond what either of them could have imagined. Their lips fit as if they were made for each other. She feels Hyunjin’s tongue lick the bottom of her lip and she opens her mouth. She feels him groan against her, she positions herself so she is in his lap.

She continues kissing him and his hands run up the back of her thighs to rest on her ass. Their kisses become more sloppy and their breaths are ragged. Hyunjin pulls away some to look up at her, "I love seeing you on top of me."

She smiles down at him and he brings his lips to her neck. He begins to leave kisses up and down her neck. Her hips move slowly down onto him causing him to groan. " And to think we were just friends." she laughs to herself.

Hyunjin pulls away from her neck, "Just friends? Does Han make you feel hot and bothered like this?" He smirks and then puts his lips back on her neck. He begins to suck down to leave a hickey behind, she lets out a small moan. His tongue licks over the mark and then he pulls away. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at her.

"I can't wait to see the look on your face when I'm actually inside you." Hyunjin smiles and she looks at him in shock. "But that day is not tonight."

She hits his chest playfully, "You're such a tease." she groans and gets off his lap. He starts to laugh, "It's been a long night, I want to take my time with you."

Hyunjin gets up off the couch but she grabs his hand. "You know you can stay right?" she says and he sits back down. "I was waiting for the invitation." He jokes and she sighs.

"Just stay. Please." She begs, the last thing she wants is to be away from him again. Especially after finding out he loves her too. Hyunjin sits back comfortably into the couch and she cuddles up into his side. "I'm not going anywhere." He leans down and places a kiss on her cheek. She smiles up at him and she feels safe for the first time in a while.

#stray kids imagine #kpop imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #kpop x reader #skz imagine #stray kids smut #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyujin imagines

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hugmekenobi · 8 months ago

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S3: The Bad Batch (3)

Chapter Three: Shadows of Tantiss

Gif by @theworstbatch

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Time is against Omega and Crosshair as they finally make the move to escape

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of food and the importance of self-care, the Force and meditation works how I say it can, reader is a bit more forceful in making Hunter look after himself lol, Hemlock and Palpatine, threatening insinuations, light angst, again my interpretations of headspaces, limited use of (y/n)

Word Count: 3.7K

Author's notes: The people have spoken (it was three people but people I greatly appreciate and it was enough) so here is the third chapter too! Very much sticking with the episode plot because the main focus is on Crosshair and Omega for this one but there's still an added moment in the beginning! Enjoy and I'm excited to start chapter four!

“You picking up anything?” Wrecker asked your cross-legged form that was seated by the tree at the top of Pabu.

You heaved an annoyed sigh as you sat there. “Nope. I don’t know if it’s cause I’m out of practice or if she’s really somewhere I can’t reach or both, but I can’t get a read on her.” You then sensed Wrecker’s slight unease. “What’s up?”

“Well… um… Hunter’s talking about heading out immediately.”

“Mm-hmm.” You said, shielding your eyes from the sun as you opened them to look at him. “And that’s a problem because?”

“Come on, (Y/N), we can’t just drop the kids here and leave. That’s not fair to them. Plus, Shep offered us a break and- and I- I think it would be good if we got some actual food in our systems. Supplies haven’t exactly been easy to come by when you’re travelling as much as we are.”

You had to agree with him there. You got to your feet and followed his eyes and saw Hunter disengage from a conversation with Shep and stride back to the Marauder. “And what exactly do you want me to do here?”

“Just…” He breathed heavily. “I dunno. Talk to him? Try to get him to listen? He won’t hear us out but- but your relationship is different and- and it’s not just for me, okay. Do it for him. I know things are better but…” He trailed off. “But I’m still worried about him that’s all.”

His sensitivity to the situation never failed to strike a chord with you. You patted his arm. “We’re family, Wrecker. I’d do it just for you anyway.”

Wrecker let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I know.”

You walked away from him towards the ship and as you stepped aboard, you saw Hunter sitting back by the navicomputer with his sight fixed firmly on the datapad. “You know, the sector isn’t going to change if you don’t look at it every two minutes.”

“I’m just making sure we have it correct and ready to go. Can you get Wrecker?” Hunter asked without looking at you yet.

“About that…” You came to stand in front of him and placed your fingers under his chin to get him to face you. “What’s this about you wanting to just leave the cadets and take off? Shep’s offering us some decent food and we could rest up before we depart.”

“We don’t have time.” He maintained.

“No one’s talking about a five-course meal. It’s a quick sit down where you can put those clones at ease about this new situation that they’re in and you take a moment to just look after yourself.”

“I don’t need-”

“Hunter, when was the last time you had something to eat that wasn’t just rations?” You interrupted sternly. The mere fact that he couldn’t answer told you that it had been far too long. “Look, we don’t know what we’re going to face out there and we all need to be at full strength and ration bars can’t always cut it. It’s not just you involved in this either. Wrecker has been at it non-stop too and he deserves a moment of respite and something that isn’t a flavourless stick and so do you.

“(Y/N)-”

“Thirty minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

As Hunter saw the determined look in your face, he heaved a sigh, but put the datapad down. He had never wanted his tunnel-vision with this search to negatively impact the rest of you but thanks to you, he realised now that if he had insisted on leaving immediately, then that’s exactly what he’d be doing.

Taking that as your answer, you took a hold of his hands and started to pull.

“Half an hour?” Hunter double checked as he let you tug him from the chair.

“Half an hour.” You confirmed with a nod. “Then we can get going again.”

Omega was already on her feet and waiting by the door when Emerie opened it.

“Good morning, Omega. Come along, there is much to do today.”

Omega followed Emerie through the usual route to the testing room but as she walked in and hopped up onto the examination table, she noticed there were more troopers patrolling and there was a new kind of tension in the air. “Something’s different.” She shared her observation aloud to Emerie. “Why are there so many troopers around?”

“I’m not certain.” Emerie replied.

“You don’t know?” Omega queried, not fully understanding how Emerie could be so content not knowing about what was going on around her.

“The doctor will inform me if it’s necessary.” Emerie prepared the blood drawing equipment and took the sample from Omega.

The door opened and they both turned to see Hemlock and Nala Se enter the lab.

“Emerie, a word?” Hemlock called over.

Emerie put the sample in the tray and walked over to him.

“An unexpected guest arriving shortly. Nala Se and I will be indisposed until he departs. Oversee the lab in her absence.”

“As you wish, Doctor. I will begin testing the latest samples.”

“That is unnecessary.” Nala Se interjected. “I will see to them when I return.” She had been doing her job in keeping Omega safe and having Emerie carry out the tests jeopardised all of it.

“Dr. Karr’s quite capable of handling such matters.” Hemlock ignored the Kaminoan’s objections and faced Emerie. “See it done.” His attentions were then commandeered when Scorch walked through the doors.

“Sir.”

“Is everything in order?”

“Affirmative. The shuttle has left the orbital station and the coordinated were transmitted.”

Nala Se stepped away from Hemlock to walk over to Omega as she saw Emerie gather the samples and leave the lab. She pretended to examine the records on the screen as she quietly addressed the young girl, “Omega… listen carefully. If Emerie tests your sample, you will be in danger. You must flee this facility before it is too late.”

“Wait. Is that why you’ve been destroying my sample?” Omega whispered back.

“Yes.” Nala Se replied. “Project-” But Hemlock’s voice interrupted her.

“Nala Se, come along. Our guest is arriving.”

“Go to the lab, retrieve my datapad and use it to escape. Sneak aboard a shuttle and flee.” Nala Se instructed before she left with Hemlock.

Omega made her way to the lab, her nerves growing as she saw the vast number of patrolling troopers, but she couldn’t second guess now, Nala Se made it clear she had to go, and she could make it work, she just needed the datapad and Crosshair.

She entered the lab and saw that Emerie had already placed all the samples, including hers into the centrifuge.

“Did you need something, Omega?” Emerie asked.

“I… Hemlock said there’s a guest arriving.” She released an awkward chuckle. “Who is it?”

“It’s best not to ask questions.” Emerie replied briskly. “See to your tasks for the day.” When Omega made no move to leave, she properly looked at her. “Are you feeling well? Forget your assignments and get some rest.”

“Okay.” Omega said lightly before she made her way over to Nala Se’s datapad but Emerie’s voice stopped her from taking it.

“Omega, I can handle things here. Go. I’ll check on you later.” Emerie insisted.

Double checking that Emerie’s attention was elsewhere again, Omega grabbed the datapad and ran out of the lab.

“We have quadrupled our objectives in record time.” Hemlock informed Emperor Palpatine as he led him to the vault. “The exotic matter facilities have expanded, providing alteration and testing of much larger assets.”

“I have need of such grand designs. However, that is not the reason why I am here today.”

“Of course. Project Necromancer.” With that, Hemlock activated the door to the vault.

Omega made her way to the detention level and covertly ran to the cell where her brother was lying on the cell cot. “Crosshair.” She whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Crosshair asked irritably.

“Escaping. And you’re coming with me.”

Crosshair reluctantly sat up and regarded the girl with scepticism. “You found a weak point?”

“Not exactly. I’m kinda improvising.”

“Is that some kind of a joke?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get the guards’ attention.”

Crosshair sighed, “That’s not a plan.”

Omega released a disgruntled scoff, and she did not want to entertain this argument, “Just distract him.” She insisted.

His longing for freedom trumped his displeasure at the fact that this kid seemed to lack any sort of proper strategic thinking. So, he got to his feet and walked towards the bars of his cell and addressed the two troopers standing down the corridor. “Guards!”

Omega waited round the corner and watched as one of them approached Crosshair’s door.

“Unlock this cell.” Crosshair demanded.

“What did you say?”

“I was giving you an order.”

The guard scoffed and called back to his partner, “This clone thinks he outranks us.”

“I do.” Crosshair replied simply as he saw the other guard coming to join. “And I’ll take your blaster too.”

“Oh yeah?” The trooper challenged with a mocking laugh. “How are you gonna do that?”

Whilst this was happening, Omega used the opening to place her datapad into the now unmanned centre console and programmed Crosshair’s cell door to unlock.

“You’ll see.” Crosshair didn’t have to wait long until his door opened, and he instantly overpowered the trooper. He stole his blaster and used his body as a shield from the oncoming stun blasts from the second stormtrooper whilst he fired his own stun blast in return and they both fell the ground.

“Nice work.” Omega praised as he put them back behind the cell door.

“Didn’t have much choice.” Crosshair griped as he picked up the second blaster.

“You’re out of the cell, aren’t you?” Omega countered smugly as she removed the datapad and caught the blaster he tossed to her before they both started running.

“Well? Start talking.” Crosshair said as he waited for her to get the next door open.

“I told you. We’re escaping.” Omega repeated.

“Why now? What’s changed?”

“Nala Se said I had to. And I wasn’t gonna leave without you.”

Crosshair let that sink in for a moment. It wasn’t a sentiment he was used to hearing or experiencing, and whilst he held responsibility for that, it was still strange to here coming from someone who had no true reason to have any loyalty to him.

“She told me to use her datapad to access the base and find a shuttle. We just need to get to a hangar.” Omega continued explaining as she finally got the door open.

They took cover behind the hallway’s centre console as a squadron of stormtrooper passed and they overheard part of their musings.

“We’re not supposed to be on patrol until midwatch.”

“Commander’s orders. All hands-on deck until the Emperor departs.”

“The Emperor’s here?” Crosshair hissed.

“What? I didn’t know.” Omega said defensively as she looked through the manifest of available shuttles.

Crosshair released another exasperated sigh. “Another reason why this was not the day to wing an escape.”

“Thanks for the reminder, but I think we’re past that point.” It was then that Omega noticed the tremor in his hand as he held the blaster. “Your hand’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“I- It’s fine.” Crosshair said with a dismissive grunt as he willed it to stop shaking.

Not having time to push the matter yet, Omega turned her focus back to the screen but what she saw was not good. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

She took the datapad out. “All the shuttles have been grounded, except the Emperor’s. We’ll have to steal it.”

The sheer simplicity in which she said that had him realising that his brothers may have entertained one too many crazy ideas in his absence. “Impossible. It will be too well-guarded, even for me.”

Omega pondered through any possible alternatives in her head and then she came to the realisation with a gasp. “Wait. I know a shuttle we can use. It crash-landed outside the perimeter back when I first came here.”

“How does a crashed shuttle help us?”

“If the comms are still functioning, we can contact the others.”

He could concede that that part of this ill-conceived ‘plan’ wasn’t totally far-fetched. “And how do we get outside?”

“Follow me.”

“As you can see, the specimens are well-guarded to ensure they remain viable for testing. However, with more time, and additional resources, I am confident that we will have a successful M-count replication.” Hemlock revealed to the cloaked figure.

“There is nothing of greater importance to secure the future of this Empire. Whatever is needed to accomplish this goal, you will have it.”

“Thank you, Emperor.” Hemlock made to show him out, but he only turned to face him. His yellow eyes the only thing visible underneath the cloak as they regarded him with curiosity but also with a hint of disappointment.

Palpatine did not follow the scientist immediately. “I did here word, however, one such specimen escaped your grasp.” He commented. “One that perhaps could offer you more than those that are already under your… observations.”

Hemlock’s posture stiffened and he massaged the palm of his gloved hand. “It was an unfortunate error but one I am hoping to rectify.”

Palpatine only silently nodded before he started to walk out.

As they entered the kennels, they didn’t give the droid much time to react. A few blasts from their blasters and he was down.

“Now what?” Crosshair asked.

“We’ll use the kennel chute.” Omega said as she readied the controls. “It leads outside, but it’s protected by a timed ray shield. We’ll have to move fast or we’ll be trapped.”

Crosshair regarded the aggressive barking hounds uneasily. “Oh, I can hardly wait.”

“We can use Batcher’s empty kennel. Be ready.” She opened the chute, but the door whirred open.

“Omega.”

Crosshair cocked his blaster towards the woman that walked in.

“Don’t!” Omega placed her hand on his arm to get him to lower it.

Crosshair didn’t listen, he kept his sights trained on her.

“You should go back to your room.” Emerie advised as she advanced towards them.

“You mean her cell.” Crosshair snapped.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Neither of you.” Emerie said. “But it’s not too late. Come with me and no one needs to know about this.”

“I can’t do that.” Omega responded firmly.

“Omega-”

“I spent most of my life confined on Kamino. I won’t be trapped here too.” She looked imploringly at the older clone. “You’re a clone like us, Emerie. Help us.”

Crosshair could tell Omega’s words weren’t doing enough to convince her and he set his blaster to stun.

“Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good.” She pressed the security alarm, but the stun shot hit her immediately afterwards.

The dreaded sound of the comms steady chirp told Crosshair he’d reacted a split second too late. “We have to go.”

Omega activated the first kennel door and the two of them ran down the chute.

Hemlock watched the Emperor’s shuttle depart with a growing sense of pride as the possibility of becoming the scientific minister felt closer than it ever had before.

“Sir.”

Hemlock half turned his head to the sound of Scorch’s voice. “What is it?” He asked tightly.

“Omega and CT-9904 are missing.”

He turned around fully. “Missing?” He glanced over at Nala Se and though her face didn’t give much away, he was sure she was involved somehow.

“An alarm was just triggered in the lurca kennels.”

“Seal it off.” He ordered.

An alarm blared through the tunnel and the shields throughout the chut started to turn back on.

“The shield’s not supposed to be active yet.” Omega said in distress.

“They know we’re in here.” Crosshair realised before he increased his speed. “Move faster!”

Together, they both managed to dive out of the exit just as the last shield activated.

Crosshair peered into the dark forest ahead. “What direction is the crashed shuttle?”

“Not sure.” Omega replied.

“Oh, great.” Crosshair muttered impatiently before he looked up to the sound of a shuttle leaving the base. “We’ll follow the flight path.”

“I’m picking up something.” Omega said as she looked at the datapad whilst they both came to a stop. “I think it could be the ship. That way.” She pointed ahead but the cry of a vicious snarl grabbed both their attention.

“Oh, good. The killer hounds.” Crosshair said wryly.

They started their run again but with Omega being so focused on the screen, she tumbled over a tree root.

Crosshair picked up the loose datapad and helped the girl up to her feet.

“Thanks.” Omega said but then she heard a new kind of animal growl, and she peered past Crosshair to see a giant bear-like creature standing tall on two legs. “Crosshair.” She said nervously.

Crosshair pointed his blaster, but he knew by the sheer size of the creature that there wouldn’t be much he could do.

Suddenly, the hounds came running in and rather than come after them, they charged at the creature, and they gratefully took the opportunity to keep running to the downed shuttle.

They reached the shuttle and Omega got to work on powering it up whilst Crosshair kept watch.

Having been dismissed by Dr. Hemlock when she’d come too, Emerie made her way back to the lab to do as he instructed and monitor things there. The monotonous click of the centrifuge blended into the background as she worked.

“Anything?” Crosshair asked.

Omega hit the control panel in sheer frustration. “It’s not working!” She let out a defeated sigh. “Comms are completely dead.” She put the datapad into a supply pack she’d found, grabbed her blaster, and put the pack on her back and came out to join Crosshair.

“They’re coming.” Crosshair said as he heard the low sound of engines approaching and he signalled to Omega to take cover to the side of the shuttle.

“I’m sorry. I thought this would work.” Omega

He may have been doubtful in the beginning, but it was clear that what he originally thought was careless thinking was actually rooted in that out-of-the-box thinking that had gotten him and his brother’s their success during the war and time thereafter. She had done something just by finding a way outside. Now, he could bring in his own experience. “You got us this far. And we’re not done yet. Did they teach plan 72?”

“Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans.”

Despite the situation, he couldn’t help the small but fond smile that graced his face upon hearing that. “Of course he did.”

The two of them got in position as the shuttle arrived.

He looked at his hand with anger and infuriation as his aim was off with the first shot and all he could do was retreat into the treeline whilst they fired back at him.

With Crosshair’s distraction giving the opening she needed, Omega made her way to one of the cables the troopers had used to descend. But before she could get up, a stormtrooper cocked his blaster.

“Stand down.”

She awkwardly turned and waved to the soldier. “Hello.”

“I said, stand down.” He repeated forcefully.

Omega watched with shock as a lurca hound came snarling out from a bush and took out the trooper and when he got to his feet and aimed at the hound, she got her own stun blast away. “Batcher?” The answering happy bark told her the answer. “Stay close.” With that, Batcher went to take care of the troopers and she hooked onto the cable and ascended.

With the hound Omega had befriended making her appearance, Crosshair was able to take out more guards than he thought he would’ve been able to.

If things had gone according to plan, he would be able to join Omega in the shuttle in a few minutes. He just needed to bide his time.

Sure enough, as he took out one other trooper, the shuttle started to move wildly out of position and as he took cover from an onslaught of blaster fire, the shuttle fired down on the remaining troopers, and he hastily made his way across the rocks to reach the opening ship doors.

Omega steadied the shuttle and came down the lift to provide Crosshair with cover fire as he came in board and headed up to the pilot’s chair.

Crosshair reached the seat and chucked the pilot out the hatch.

Hearing the doors getting ready to shut, Omega took cover and whistled for Batcher. “Batcher, come!”

When the dog was safely inside, Crosshair shut the doors and got the ship in the air.

Emerie had gotten so used to the monotonous drone of the centrifuge that it had become mere background noise. So much so that she almost missed the new rhythmic beeping that chimed as a new sample clicked into position. Emerie stood up and investigated the screen and the realisation with what she saw, stunned her.

The troopers had only been half the problem. Despite having escaped the ground assault, they were now trying to out fly V-wing shuttles and the bases’ laser cannons and one of them managed to hit the shuttle.

“They’re locking onto us!” Omega shouted as alarms blared throughout the shuttle. “I can’t shake them! Systems are failing.”

“I want that ship neutralized.” Hemlock insisted heatedly as he watched map in main control room.

“Stop! Don’t shoot them down!” Emerie urged as she entered the room.

“What?” Hemlock snapped.

“The clone’s sample supported a positive M-count transfer with no degradation from the specimen.”

“CT-9904 was ruled out long ago.” Hemlock argued.

“Not him. It’s Omega.” Emerie revealed, showing him the results.

Hemlock studied the datapad and saw what she was talking about. “Call them off!” He directed Scorch.

“But, sir, they’re escaping.” Scorch tried to protest.

“Stand down!” Hemlock insisted. “We need her alive.”

Not looking to question the reason as to why they peeled off, Crosshair shouted to Omega. “Now!”

Omega launched the ship into hyperspace.

Hemlock watched the ship disappear off the map.

“They’ve jumped.” Scorch confirmed.

Hemlock released a short sigh. “A minor setback. I have the full resources of the Empire at my disposal. We will find her. And with her gone, she will lead us to someone else who will prove most useful to our endeavours.” With that, he exited the room.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69, @starwarsnerd111, @fuckoffthanos, @graciexmarvel, @tpwkcalli, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @sunkissedclones, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #angst #hurt/comfort

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girlwithadragonheart · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 1 - The Demon of Vyrantium

This story will have spoilers from the game. Like entire quests. If you don’t want those don’t read this. You have been warned.

Rook x Lucanis

Summary: The gods strike at D’Meta’s Crossing. Neve suggests hiring the Antivan Crows and the most respected mage killer out there, turns out he has problems of his own.

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: graphic violence, mentions of slavery, cursing, let me know if I missed something it's so long I lost track

A/N: I told you I’d take more creative liberties with the next one didn’t I ;3

Prologue DATV Masterlist Chapter 2(WIP)

I sat across from Neve and Harding at the circle table in the lighthouse to go over next steps.

“So. We stopped the ritual,” Neve said.

“And Varric paid the price,” Harding answered.

“Hey. Varric made his choice to go talk with Solas. He knew the risks. We all did,” I said.

“And now Solas is… gone. And we’re here, wherever here is—besides in the Fade,” Harding thought.

“Solas called it the lighthouse,” I told them.

“He did?” Neve questioned. “When?”

“While I was out cold. He showed up in my dream, and he’s really mad that we stopped his ritual.”

“Good,” Harding said smugly.

“He’s also trapped in some kind of prison in the Face. Not happy about that either,” I explained.

“You’re sure that wasn’t just a dream? It’s a reasonable reaction,” Neve said.

“Solas can speak with people in their dreams. Even kill them,” Harding told her.

“I’m safe on that front. I bled a little when I got knocked out. Enough that he can gripe at me, but not enough that he can make my head explode.”

“So Solas is using blood magic. Like any normal mage would to play with your mind,” Neve replied.

“But he’s not a normal mage. Like I told you, he’s an elven god,” Harding said.

“Putting together a nice ritual doesn’t make him a god,” she shot back.

“The gods of my people were incredibly powerful,” I interrupted their squabbling. “I don’t mean they were powerful like a skilled mage. I mean they destroyed entire cities. They shattered mountains. So no, they might not literally be gods, but they’re a lot worse than whatever you’re thinking.”

“Alright. Well, we’ve stopped the ritual, and there doesn’t seem to be an immediate danger. For now. You’re certain Solas can’t use blood magic to affect your mind?” Neve asked.

“I’m certain that if he could he already would have, but I’m still pissed at him as ever. I’m not certain of anything else, but we’re not out of danger,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Harding asked.

“Solas had two of the other elven gods imprisoned. When he got trapped, they escaped.”

“So those things we saw come out of the fade when the ritual went wild… those are…” Neve’s voice faded.

“Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. Two of the ancient elven gods that Solas rebelled against. Solas warned me about them being evil, which is pretty rich coming from the guy who just tried to tear down the Veil,” I said.

“You don’t believe him?” Neve questioned.

“No, that’s the problem. I do believe him. He said they were horrific tyrants.”

“Tyrants so powerful elven history remembers them as gods,” Harding added.

“Solas says Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain drew on the blight for power and became corrupted. That was when he imprisoned them.”

“So instead of one… god… running around, we have two. And they’re not just powerful, they’re blighted,” Neve scowled.

“We need to get out there and stop them,” Harding said firmly.

“Just like that? Without Varric? And you’re still getting back on your feet,” Neve looked over at her.

“I’m fine. We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“We need to investigate. Figure out what we’re dealing with before we rush in and make things worse,” Neve told her.

“And how many more people will get hurt—get killed—while we spend time investigating?”

I cut them both off. “If Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are worse than Solas, we can’t go in blind. We need to know what they can do and what they want.”

“But we only have Solas’s word about all of this,” Harding said.

I shrugged. “Then let’s go investigate for ourselves. We find out what we’re dealing with, and then we take our shot.”

“Fine. The eluvian led us here instead of back to Minrathous.”

“Let’s hope it goes back to the ritual site,” Neve said. “Maybe we can find some clues at the scene of the crime.”

“All right, then. Let’s get back to the ritual site,” I said.

—------------------------------------

The second we stepped through the Eluvian, a group of Veil Jumpers were running at us for their lives. Some kind of old elven construct was chasing them, swinging a massive golden axe at their heads. One of them, a woman, was using her magic on a device in her hands, trying to stop the construct, but it didn’t look to be working.

One of them got knocked to the side against a boulder, groaning from the impact. An older dark skinned elf parried the swings of the mighty axe, giving the girl time to work. The construct swung past the elf, the blade going through the device in the girl’s hands. As the device broke, the construct shut down, falling limp.

Harding seemed to know the older elf and the girl. She addressed them as Strife and Irelin. She told us that she met them with Varric when they first started the hunt for Solas. Veil Jumpers, she said they were called, experts in ancient elven magic.

Strife told us millions of artifacts are being faulty and coming alive because of Solas’s ritual, pointing the finger at us because we were supposed to stop him.

I informed him that we did, in fact, stop him, but Solas was now trapped in the Fade and two of the Evanuris escaped. The Veil Jumpers knew the extent of the horrors the Evanuris caused centuries ago.

“I was really hoping Solas was lying about all of this,” I told them.

Strife frowned. “The god of lies, but some things are sacrosanct, even to him. He might be a bastard, but he’s a damned sight better than the Evanuris.”

I snorted. “No kidding.”

They still had dozens of Veil Jumpers unaccounted for, but Irelin said if we could find Bellara Lutare it would be a massive assist. Apparently, she was the best there is at working with the ancient elven artifacts. She was off looking for one before the ritual shook everything loose.

Harding told them we would go and get Bellara, but I told her to stay behind and help the Veil Jumpers because they needed her. Definitely not because she was still injured and way too stubborn to see sense.

—--------------------------------------

“Protocol is to wait at least a week before sending anyone to look for me, I’ve only been gone for three days,” she said, twisting her hips back and forth in place like a child being scolded.

“Well, things have taken a turn for the worse, I’m afraid,” I told her. “Our gods are back and they’re trying to take over the world.”

“Our gods… I need a moment,” she said.

“Take all the time you need. It won’t help, unfortunately, I’ve known for days and it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet,” I replied.

“That is quite a predicament.” She sighed, looking around. “All right, but I need your help first, I’m on to something big here.”

“Just tell me what you need,” I smiled.

“We’ll take what we can get,” Neve told her.

As it turned out, Ancient Elven ruins could be tricky. Barriers and old mechanical devices that were rare in these times. Luckily, it was pretty straightforward to figure out and Bellara was a great help finding our way through the ruins. Whatever work she had done with elven ruins and artifacts would definitely come in handy.

It was all fine and dandy when we found what we were looking for, except for the ogre that decided to pay us a visit and try to wreck our shit.

A lot of its attacks I could parry or at least redirect. Some I could only dodge, and I spent most of the fight doing so, shooting firebolts in between its attacks.

It finally fell, and I sheathed my dagger, fighting to regain my breath.

Bellara found what she was looking for, the “Nadas Dirthalen” or the eighth archive or the archive spirit. Pick whichever you want to describe it, it was an artifact crafted with the knowledge of the gods and it could give us information we might need. If she could fix the crystal, that is.

We headed back to the Veil Jumper camp and they told us one of the towns they work closely with had gone dark. A place called D’Meta’s Crossing. With everything going on, it likely wasn’t a coincidence. Harding rejoined the three of us and we boarded a boat to go check it out.

—----------------------------------

D’Meta’s Crossing was on the far side of the lake. It was bleak when we approached on the water.

“This isn’t right,” Bellara said. “The dock usually has people bringing goods to market, bartering and shouting… It’s always busy.”

“Stay sharp,” I said as I climbed out of the boat.

The main entrance to town was barricaded. Clearly not to keep anything out. We moved to the side, seeing a smaller barricade. I pulled myself over it, eyes going wide as I dropped down. The place reeked, and there was blight everywhere. These masses, they looked like rotting tumors, not the decay or stagnation of the normal blight, this was alive.

There were cysts that popped like blisters when fired at or hit with anything and exploded. The second I stepped foot in this place I felt I needed a shower.

We moved further in, sticking close together. There was a villager standing by a home completely taken over with the blight.

His face was drained of all color and his eyes were black. “What happened here?”

He stared at me. Well, through me. “Keep them inside. Listen to the mayor.”

My brows furrowed. I waved a hand in front of his face. Unresponsive. “What’s controlling them? Blood magic? The blight?”

We moved deeper in. The town square was even worse for wear. There were bodies everywhere taken over by the blight-cysts. We continued on, keeping an eye out for survivors. There was no one that the blight hadn’t taken over, either their bodies or their minds.

We came to a part of town blocked off by a wall of the blight. A bright red bulb pulsated at the center of it. I shuddered, taking a couple steps back and blasting cold from my fingers to minimize the explosiveness.We had gotten through it, but only a narrow passageway. Squeezing between a corridor of the blight was not on the top of my bucket list.

I would desperately need a bath after this.

We came to the other side and a giant mass of the blight stood in the center. At the center of it looked like a person was being held there.

“Mihlva!” Bellara gasped, running over to one of the bodies.

“One of your fellow Veil Jumpers?” I asked, watching the blight tendrils wrap around them and pull them away. I moved to the mass at the center. The man in it was moving. “Bellara!”

She looked over. “Jahel! He’s alive!”

“Bellara?” The man groaned.

“We’re going to help you… we’ll get you down, Jahel,” Bellara said.

A tendril snaked around his neck. “No… listen. The gods… the gods have returned. I saw… them. I heard their voices.”

“The gods did this?” Bellara questioned, panic evident in her voice.

“A blood ritual,” he said. “To release the blight. The villagers… they said they needed power… Bellara… be careful…” That tendril looped around his neck twice over, caressing his lips as he spoke before tightening around his throat.

His body was strangled, blood spilled to the cobbled streets, the blight pooling at our feet. The ground shook, and I heard someone shout for help.

We ran through the remains of the village, shooting down the blight we could along the way. Coming through an archway of it, we came out to the other side of the village. A man was wrapped in barbed fleshy pink tentacles, a writhing mass of the blight.

“Help me! Hurry!” He yelled, panicked.

The ground shook and a dragon shot up into the sky, screeching as it landed, crushing debris underfoot.

“No! Please!” The man yelled as the writhing mass drew tighter around him. I looked between him and the dragon, feeling my chest tighten. I stepped forward, putting two fingers to my lips to produce a loud whistle.

It took a step toward me, and I stared it down as embers floated from its mouth. After a moment, as though fighting a command, I watched it back off and fly into the horizon, roaring as it went.

I took a breath, approaching the man in the mass.

“I know you,” Bellara said. “You’re the mayor of this town.”

“The village… the people… are they…?”

“Blighted. Dead. All of them,” Harding said.

“You gave them to the gods, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” Bellara spat.

The mayor sobbed. “They were in my head… infecting my thoughts. They made me do it… Please, help me!”

“Deep breaths… Tell me what happened,” I said gently. If it really was blood magic he may not have been acting completely of his own will.

“I tried to protect people. You have to believe me. The gods told me to lure the Veil Jumpers to the center of town. The others were to be rounded up and kept safe. They would be the first to witness the glory of Ghilan’nain’s new creation… She showed me gold. So much gold…”

“So you brought the Veil Jumpers to the middle of town…” I said.

“For a blood sacrifice!” Bellara cut me off.

“Because the gods needed power,” Neve concluded.

“Did you know what the gods would do?” I questioned him.

“The Veil Jumpers… they were just strangers. I thought if they were taken first, everyone else might be spared.”

“So you did know!” Bellara yelled.

“The gods exploited his greed and fear,” Neve said.

“I’m supposed to feel sorry for him? I say we leave him right here,” Bellara said.

“But I’ll die. The blight’s everywhere. What if the dragon comes back?” He panicked. “I understand what they do now. I won’t be tempted again! I swear!”

“Rook?” Harding asked.”

I sighed. “Let’s get him out of there.”

“What? This entire village is dead because of him.” Bellara argued.

“I know.”

“Then why spare him?”

“We don’t kill people. Not like this. We’re not murderers. We’re not like the gods. We are better than them,” I explained. “If we leave him to be a source of their power we’re no better than he is.”

“Thank you… I think,” he said.

“I didn’t ask for your gratitude,” I snapped.

“Then if I may offer some advice: steel yourself. I felt their power, the promises they made. It’s irresistible.”

“Then try harder next time. Don’t make me regret saving you,” I said firmly.

“Yes, of course. But you should be worried about the rest of the world. Or this will be our future.”

—---------------------------------

We made our way back to the Veil Jumper camp. We were speaking with them when an old friend of the Inquisition, Morrigan, made an appearance. She told us to find Solas’s ritual dagger and that the eluvian at the lighthouse should go anywhere there is an existing eluvian. Bellara offered to come with us to fix it.

I just wished Varric was here to give better advice. He was always stronger at speeches than I was. Doing this without him to guide me felt wrong.

Neve, Harding, and I made our way back to the ritual site. After a wild goose chase after a darkspawn that stole the dagger, and watching Harding get possessed by some kind of new strange dwarf magic—which doesn’t exist, mind you—I was ready for a nap.

We came back to the Lighthouse and talked about Harding’s new abilities. I encouraged her to explore them but be wary. It wasn’t like any magic I’d seen before, and dwarves didn’t have any connection to the Fade, so it was completely new territory.

I went up the stairs, seeing a new area branched next to the hall leading to the infirmary. I could hear Varric snoring from here. At least I knew he was still alive.

I headed down that hall, pushing the door open to see an aquarium of sorts. There was a bookshelf to the right and a wardrobe to the left. In the center of the room was a chaise lounge with a bookcase behind it.

I saw my pack sitting in front of that bookshelf. Neve or Harding must’ve brought my pack in here. It made sense, it was a better place to sleep than the infirmary. I suppose I could spare a few moments to unpack my things.

I pulled Varric’s shaving mirror out, placing it on the bookshelf behind where I would be sleeping. Varric and his life lessons. I asked him how we were supposed to stop Solas, and he gave me the mirror.

“Take a long hard look in it, kid. It’ll always show the face of a hero who can get it done,” he said.

I don’t know if I see a hero’s face, but it’s a face that has seen a lot. Got a few new scars. Some that show up in a mirror, some that don’t. But Varric believed in me then, and he believes in me now. I can do this.

I moved to the small armoire on the right side of the room, placing an elven scroll down. A peddler gave it to me after I saved his caravan from bandits. He said the scroll went back to even before Tevinter. Said that elves had a rich history, “even more than the rest of us.”

Too many humans look down on us, even though elves were here first. It was nice to have someone see how much our people have done. I just wish I could’ve been a part of it.

On the opposite side from the mirror, I put my broken chains. I helped a lot of Minrathous slaves escape to freedom the night I met Varric, including my mother. Freed only to be killed in the chaos. Another time Varric had shown up for me. I remembered his hand on my shoulder as I wept over her.

“Come on, kid. It’s time to go. I’m sorry.”

Then the magisters cracked down in retaliation, and the Shadow Dragons decided I was too much trouble to keep around. We could have taken a stand and dared the magisters to come after us. At least people are free because of what I did.

I sighed, brushing my fingers over the cold metal before going to sit in the chaise lounge. Carefully, I laid back, letting my eyes drift shut. I was wound tight despite my exhaustion. I don’t know how long it took me to actually fall asleep.

I woke in the Fade, Solas’s voice already penetrating my thoughts. “Back so soon. It must have been worse than I thought.”

“Hello, Dread Wolf.”

“Ah, but perhaps I am mistaken. You may be here to correct me, to tell me that my concerns were unfounded. I am, after all, remembered as the god of lies, treachery, and rebellion.”

Haunted, hopeless, hurting… a voice nagged at the back of my head. No, not nagged. Soothed.

“So you’re gonna be insufferable about it. See, this is the reason nobody likes you,” I told him.

“I led a rebellion for centuries that culminated the creation of the Veil and the destruction of the elven empire.”

“Okay, this is among the reasons nobody likes you,” I corrected.

“My information was accurate. Now you realize that the danger is real.”

“I need to know what the gods are planning,” I said plainly.

“You are asking for knowledge no mortal in this world is privy to,” he replied. “If I am to share it with you, I need to know what makes you the right person to lead the fight against Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain.”

“Well, for starters, I’m the only one here,” I said, throwing my arms out and looking around the desolate prison. “And I stopped you, didn’t I?”

“You disrupted the ritual.”

“Yeah, I did. Even though I’m nowhere near as powerful as you. Even though I’m just a slave.”

His brow furrowed, and I saw him blink as the only hint of surprise. “You were a slave?”

“Yeah. Varric said you hated slavery. I suppose that’s one thing we can agree on.”

He only nodded. “Your plan is to tell me how powerful you aren’t?”

“I met Varric when he asked the Shadow Dragons for help with freeing an old friend from Venatori slavers. The Shadow Dragons had a safe plan that wasn’t going to work, and Varric wasn’t the only one with something to lose if we failed.”

“So you and Varric led an armed rebellion and dealt a devastating blow to the Venatori,” he finished for me.

“You did your research,” I said, looking him up and down.

“I would’ve been a fool not to. You and Varric were pursuing me for the better part of a year. I needed to learn who was hunting me.”

“Then you obviously also know that powerful opposition doesn’t frighten me. I find a way to get the job done, whatever it takes.”

“I suppose I was not so different when I started.”

“No,” a voice said, inches from me and lightyears away all at once. “You were not different. You are not different.” The voice of a friend.

“Cole.” Now, I did see the Dread Wolf’s surprise evident in his expression. “How did you…”

“You are trapped,” he said. “She is hopeless, haunted, hurting, just like before. Escaped one master just to be fighting another. You are not different,” Cole said, looking up at Solas. “Hello, Solas.”

“Hello Compassion,” Solas dipped his head in greeting. “It has been an age.”

“You left the Inquisition to free us, but it didn’t work. Instead you freed them. The Evanuris.”

“Someone got in my way,” Solas leveled a condescending glare at me from his high horse—or at least his slightly higher piece-of-floating-rock.

“People were dying. I heard their screams,” Cole said. “The Veil needs to stay.”

“Oookay, this is all fine and good, but what are you doing here, Cole?” I asked, turning to him. “I thought I’d seen the last of you when Dorian freed me?”

“I felt the Veil weaken, and I knew. I knew it was Solas behind it, I always knew, even when he didn’t want me to, even when he hid it from everyone else. I went back to that place where it’s still weakest, and I felt your despair. I followed it here.”

“The gods need two things to reclaim their dominance of the world,” Solas interrupted, clearly growing bored. “First, the blight. What exists in this world is a bare fragment of its power. The rest is imprisoned… until they release it.”

“What would they need to do to free the blight, and how do we stop them from doing it?” I asked.

“They will need to pierce the Veil to reach the blight’s prison. My lyrium dagger is one of the few artifacts capable of doing so.”

“We’ve already recovered it from the ritual site.”

“Excellent,” I could’ve sworn he almost looked proud, but I doubted the smug bastard was capable. “Then they will have to make their own. That will give you time. The second is followers. They have called themselves gods, and what is a god without worshipers to sing their praises?”

“I’m not gonna bend a knee to blighted murdering monsters just because their ears are pointed like mine. I don’t think many other elves are going to either.”

“Agreed. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain care little for the elves. They will find worshipers among those hungry for power. Tyrants and bullies. The cruel and corrupt, who fear their own vulnerability and seize any chance to feel strong. If you hunt them, they will lead you to Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain.”

I laughed without humor. “You want me to pick fights with tyrants and bullies? Sounds fun.”

“I gave no orders. All I can offer are suggestions.”

“I’m on it. What else?”

“The Vi’Revas, the Lighthouse eluvian, can take you anywhere, if you master its secrets. Have you done so?”

“Not yet, but we’ve got one of the Veil Jumpers working on it. She’ll get it sorted, and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Yes. I suppose we will. And when you speak with Varric, please tell him that I… regret what happened.”

Cole put his hand on my arm, and the world spun for a moment before I opened my eyes. We were in a grove, the stars above us, trees towering around us.

“Woah.” I put a hand to my head. “Where are we?”

“The Fade.”

“Right…” I took a seat in the grass with a sigh.

Cole crouched down, fingers fidgeting with the blades of grass. “You feel heavy again. Like before.”

“Varric picked me up to help him, but I disrupted the ritual, Varric got hurt, and the gods escaped. That doesn’t much feel like helping.”

“Varric used to help me. He wanted me to understand things, I think.”

“I don’t know how to lead, Cole. I’m barely used to being in charge of my life.”

“You’re already leading,” he said simply. His head bowed, and he glanced back behind him, as though listening for something. “They need you, it’s time to wake up.”

I gasped sitting upright, my chest heaving and my palms sweaty. I hadn’t seen Cole in years. Not since I was a slave. Not since I was at my lowest in life. Shit…

I needed to talk to Varric. I wiped my hands on my pants, standing with a huff. Having Solas in my head might prove to be more hindrance than help if he wouldn’t let me sleep in peace.

I made my way out, rubbing out the kink in my neck, hoping he might be awake. If not, I would let at least one of us get some restful sleep.

I approached him, sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed opposite where he was sitting up against a pillow.

“So Solas told the truth about the gods,” he said as I sat down.

“You heard? It’s bad, Varric,” I shook my head. “If you’d seen D’Meta’s Crossing…”

“The team needs to act fast… and it can’t do that with me leading from a bed,” he said. “You’ve gotta take point on this.”

My chest tightened. “I can’t do what you do. I’ve barely been holding it together in the short time you’ve been out.”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to do what I do. You just need to get it done. Rook, when I put this team together, what did I look for? A detective to find the Dread Wolf and a scout to get us the lay of the land. Exactly the people he’d expect me to recruit. Disciplined. Predictable. And then there’s you. Remember when we first met, kid?”

“Of course I do.”

“You risked your neck to bring down an entire slavery ring. Pretty much by yourself,” he grinned.

“I had help.”

“Sure. I got winded about five minutes in. You did most of the work. Ticked off a bunch of Minrathous big shots, but… You’ve got a knack, kid.”

I hugged my knees to my chest. “A knack for what? Almost dying?”

“Exactly. You’ve got a knack for finding a way through the wildest shit I’ve ever seen. With a plan that no one expects. You can do this,” he said with a softness in his eyes I’d only ever really seen when it was just us. The protective kind. “And don’t worry. I’ll still be here to talk if you need me.”

“There is something… D’Meta’s Crossing was awful. While we were there, we found one survivor—the mayor.”

“You took him back to the Veil Jumpers,” he said. Harding must’ve filled him in.

“Not everyone was happy about my decision…” I told him. “We’re just starting out and I’m already losing their trust.”

Varric sat up a little straighter. “The key to earning the team’s trust isn’t to only make decisions everyone agrees with. It’s showing the team that they can tell you whatever’s on their mind, even if they think you’re full of crap, and know you’ll listen. It’s showing them that you’re capable of making the hard decisions, even if they don’t agree.”

“When I took over at the ritual site, I had to make a call on who came with me to knock over that statue. It was the first decision I made leading this team, and Harding got hurt because of it.”

“You made a decision with the best information you had. Sometimes you do that, and people end up hurt. Or worse,” he said simply.

“What would you have done?” I asked.

“What would I have done? Probably gotten myself killed and failed to stop the ritual if you hadn’t stepped in,” he laughed. “A good leader isn’t someone who never makes mistakes: It’s someone who admits when they make one. That’s how you earn their trust.”

“Did Neve tell you about me talking to Solas in the Fade?” I asked.

“I had some good arguments with Chuckles back in the day. I can’t imagine being stuck with him in my head. But how are you feeling about it?” He asked.

“Your old friend is kind of an asshole, Varric.”

He chuckled. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall while the two of you get into it. Solas fought a rebellion against Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. He didn’t want to be a god. But he’s also a lot older and more powerful than any of us. He looks at us like we’re toddlers.”

“So how do I deal with him?”

“Act like you’re as smart as he is, and he’ll be insufferable. Show him you respect his age and experience, and he’ll remind you he’s just a man. Honestly, pick whichever of those pisses you off less,” he grinned.

“He also asked me to tell you that he regrets what happened. Hurting you, I mean,” I told him, letting my knees fall back to either side.

“Chuckles is sentimental. He could burn the world down, and the thing that would make him cry is a single flower with blackened petals.”

“He seems the type. Cole visited me. I know last time I told you about him you said he was with the Inquisition. He came to my dream with Solas too, and he looked almost… regretful, if you could even call it that.”

“Well, shit. How’s he doing? What was he doing?” Varric asked, shifting slightly.

“Apparently, he sensed my despair when he was checking out the ritual site because of how thin the Veil is there. He followed it back to me.” I sighed, standing and brushing myself off, whatever invisible dust there was. “I’ll let you rest.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Rook. Hey, one last thing before you go,” he said. “I’ve been racking my brain thinking of contacts who might help us with these gods.”

“You got any ideas?”

“Nothing. But being a leader isn’t about having all the answers yourself: It’s about knowing who does. Neve has connections to a whole world that Harding and I barely know. A world you barely got the chance to learn. Might be worth talking to her.”

“Will do. Thanks, Varric,” I offered him a smile. One of the few I was sure I would be able to give in the coming days.

“Any time, kid.”

I closed the door behind me so he could rest as I made my way out to Neve’s floating office. She told me we needed to hire the Antivan Crows, but specifically their most feared mage killer. The Demon of Vyrantium. I had heard of his work, and most of us in the wards and servants’ quarters revered his assassinations of our masters. They had given us plenty of reasons to side with the trained killer over them.

Neve said she set up a meeting with their bosses. Next, she said that we needed to take a trip back home. The Shadow Dragons of course made sense to take out the gods in the capital city of Tevinter where blood magic was strongest. We had done so much work against it and the Venatori, but I was a bit worried about seeing them again after the stunt I pulled. We trained to be the best at countering evil magic, it was time we proved it. Hopefully together this time and not just me and Varric.

The Antivan Crows seemed our best bet to start off. I wasn’t ready to go back to Minrathous yet. Not after everything.

Neve and I made our way down to the Vi’Revas, the eluvian, where Bellara was working. We watched her tinker with it for a moment before it lit up, showing the path to what Morrigan called The Crossroads. A spirit appeared beside it in tattered blue robes. Though I tensed instinctively, I felt nothing malicious from it.

“The wolf’s fang. You carry it now. Old paths. A new journey. Through there. I will wait,” he gestured to the eluvian before fading away.

When we entered, the spirit introduced itself as the caretaker who goes where they are needed. The Crossroads was a beautiful place in the fade. Paths branched out, the caretaker guiding us in a levitating boat to each island of Eluvians. This place was slowly becoming tainted, though. I could feel the blood magic and blight like invisible eyes or a forgotten touch. It caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

We made it to the eluvian leading to Treviso after killing some Venatori trying to take over the crossroads. Neve and I glanced at each other before stepping through. Treviso… One of the finest cities in Antiva, or so I’d been told. It was now under occupation by the Antaam. Hopefully our contact would still be able to meet us.

Neve and I made our way to the coordinates given to us, seeing a petit woman leaning against the railing of the bridge. She looked over as we approached.

“Welcome to Antiva. You must be Rook. Follow me,” she said, running off, leaving me to follow in her wake.

“And you’re Andarateia Cantori. Of the Crows?” I asked.

“Teia, please. Come, my associate Viago is gathering the others.”

We ran through the streets of Treviso, through the market and up the lattice on the side of a building. From there, we ziplined to a casino, the headquarters of the Crows.

“Welcome to the Cantori Diamond,” Teia said as we went up the stairs to the right.

As soon as I entered, I felt as though I was going to be interrogated, stripped of my valuables and tossed to the streets, if the expression of the woman eyeing me and the cane in her hand were anything to say for it.

Teia took up her spot on the left, a man with a very well groomed mustache to the right of her, followed by the older woman in the throne, and on her other side a younger man who looked way too charming for anyone’s good.

The man next to Teia spoke. “You’re the client?”

“This is Rook,” Teia said with a smile. “Did you want a drink? I promise not to let Viago near it.” It struck me how pretty she was. And the man next to her.

“Viago de Riva. Fifth Talon,” he introduced. “And this is Caterina Dellamorte. First Talon of the Crows.” He gestured to the woman in the throne.

“An honor. And you are?” I asked, glancing at the man beside her.

“Illario Dellamorte. Her grandson. What brings you here?” He asked.

“Right,” I took a breath. “My target is a pair of elven gods—or that’s what they call themselves. They’re ancient blighted mages. My detective says you have a man who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees.”

“Lucanis,” Caterina said. “My grandson. They called him “the Demon of Vyrantium.” He was the one who did those jobs.”

“Sounds like there’s more to it,” I said carefully, tilting my head.

“Lucanis Dellamorte is dead. He was killed a year ago, now,” Viago said solemnly.

“What I say doesn’t leave this room,” Caterina said slowly. “The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face.”

“My cousin is still alive?” Illario questioned. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” Something was off about Illario. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew that I would rather have dealings with Teia and Viago more than him in the future if we had any at all.

“His ship was attacked,” Viago interrupted my thoughts. “We knew someone sold him out… so you kept your suspicions to yourself.”

“But you’ve brought it up now. Why?” I asked, looking back to the First Talon.

“I’ve had eyes on the Venatori ever since they took my grandson from me. They were hunting your Dread Wolf. And what you did to his ritual threw them into disarray. They made mistakes. And now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept. Find this Ossuary. Free Lucanis. You’ll have your god-killer. And I’ll have my grandson.”

Something about the way she presented him twisted my gut. Like that was all he was, a weapon to be used and discarded. Even not having met him, the thought didn’t sit right with me. I knew what it was like to be seen only for what you could do for other people, and that was not a feeling I wanted for anyone else.

I wondered though, how a mage killer captured by the Venatori would feel about two Tevinter mages freeing him.

Illario led us to our lift to the Ossuary. I was almost relieved when he didn’t get in the boat with us. Surprisingly, he was the only Crow I had met so far that had major stab-you-in-the-back vibes.

We were boated out to the middle of the sea, the Crow mage with us parting the waters below us to grant us passage to the underwater prison. When we got there, bodies littered the sand, bloodstains running red. We passed over two dozen bodies as we made our way through the prison.

It seemed to have been some ancient elven ruins before being repurposed. It was a wonder it still functioned. If the wards on this place ever broke…

I didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened when the gods got released. I was more relieved I didn’t have to be the one fending off all the guards. We came to a Venatori barrier with three crystals connected to it that I beamed fire at before the barrier fell. A large corridor led down a set of stairs where a group of Venatori gathered.

“We don’t have to fight. We’re just here for Lucanis Dellamorte.” The mage in the center slammed his staff into the ground, the wisps of red blood magic gathering around its tip. “Get ready,” I said to Neve, who braced for a fight.

“Razikale, Dragon of Mystery. Lusacan, Dragon of Night. Hear your faithful call—”

A man in blue leathers flipped down from seemingly out of thin air, black and purple glowing wings sprouted from his back as he fell. He grappled the mage, pulling him as he spun so that the Venatori next to him stabbed straight through his comrade’s gut. He ducked as another sword came at him, kicking the Venatori in the gut. The cultist flew backward, impaling on one of the ice spikes surrounding us.

The man sprinted at the other two, a dagger in one hand and a rapier in the other. In a flash that was barely visible, he spun, slitting both of their throats before turning and putting his sword through the final cultist’s back.

He stood with his back turned to us, chest heaving. My eyes were wide. “I’m guessing you’re the reason we’re here,” I said carefully.

His wings flapped and dissipated as he turned back toward us. “Who are you? Who sent you?” He asked, the thick accent of Antiva coming through in his voice.

Something about his presence was calm, assured, even though he just murdered six people before my eyes. It drew me in, and I wasn’t sure I would have the strength to back out.

“My name’s Rook. Caterina sent me.”

“Caterina…” He looked at the ground. “But… you’re not a Crow.” He put his hands on his hips.

“I’m breaking you out of here,” I told him. “But… you’re not just you. Care to introduce me to your friend?”

“Rook. He’s possessed by a demon,” Neve said carefully.

“It’s complicated,” Lucanis said with a slight shrug.

“Caterina promised us a mage killer if we could get you out of here,” I told him.

“I can still work,” he assured me.

“Good,” I smiled. “Cause I’m pretty sure more Venatori are on their way. We have to get moving.”

“They have a vial of my blood. They can use it to control me. I cannot leave it in their hands. And… I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here. Calivan. Crows don’t break contracts,” Lucanis said.

“All right, we’ll help. But in return, I need help killing some things,” I told him.

“I’ll owe you,” he said slowly.

“I’m sure we’ll owe each other before this is all over. Let’s go.”

We made our way back through the prison, coming to a huge gap that none of us would be able to jump across.

“What are you—Fine. He says he can help. There is something in the Fade close enough to grab onto.”

I watched Lucanis’s wings come out, energy flowing from his hands and a large piece of floating cobblestone came into being. “All of that… came from the Fade?”

“I’m as surprised as you,” Lucanis said honestly.

Eventually, we came to a room protected by at least six of the Venatori’s crystals powering the barrier. Behind it, was a massive garnished vial of blood. “Yeah, they can’t do anything subtle, can they?” I asked, aiming a beam of flames at it, making it explode on impact.

Through a close-by archway, there was a lift. We took it and it led to an audience chamber, a mage standing in the middle of it.

As we approached, Calivan did as all villains do, and started giving a long-winded speech. Something something, Zara said it would be ironic, he’s already the Demon of Vyrantium, now it’s just more literal. Lucanis smirked at me, glancing sidelong as Calivan went on his tangent, and I found myself smiling back. Something something she always leaves him to clean up the mess.

Maybe he should’ve picked someone better to follow.

I put my hands together, feeling the energy build between them as I loosed a death ray of fire and lightning right at his face. That’ll shut him up, surely.

Lucanis blinked at me as Calivan fell to his knees. “Sorry,” I said impulsively. “I know that was your contract. He was getting on my nerves.”

“Don’t be. Imagine how I feel,” Lucanis said, the corners of his lips twitching up. He spat on Calivan’s body. “The Crows send their regards.”

I glanced down at the ashen body, and when I looked up again I saw a purple version of Lucanis standing right beside him, and I blinked.

“The contract is done,” Lucanis said.

“Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet,” The purple man said. From what I was sensing, this was his demon. Though he was closer to a spirit, not quite monstrous yet. I opted to ignore him for now. Not drawing attention to it was likely safer at least for the moment.

Lucanis just stared at him blankly. “Lucanis? Are you alright?” I asked.

“Careful, they know. We’re not right.”

“You cannot see him. I wondered,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“We clearly have things to discuss. Somewhere else,” I told him.

“Agreed. I think… it’s time I got some air.”

—--------------------------------------------

Back at the Cantori Diamond we found Teia and Viago looking at Illario who was leaned over against the table, breathing heavily. The two of them turned around and Teia’s face went whiter than I thought possible.

“Maker…” She said.

“Lucanis?” Viago’s eyes were wide.

Lucanis looked around at them. “What happened here?” He questioned.

Illario’s fist hit the table, and I flinched instinctively. “A message,” he snarled. “From Zara Renata. I can’t believe it. You’re home.” Illario put a hand on Lucanis’s shoulder.

“Zara… Her people got this close?” Lucanis asked.

“The woman who runs the prison?” I guessed.

“The Venatori witch who captured me,” he answered.

“Revenge for the breakout, maybe,” I said.

“Where’s Caterina?” Lucanis asked, eyes darting around at the three of them frantically.

“She’s…” Teia’s voice broke, and her head bowed with an impossible weight on her shoulders.

Viago came up behind her, hands on her shoulders comfortingly. “The Venatori got her in the confusion.”

“I got one of you back, only to lose the other,” Illario said, sounding devastated. I wanted to feel bad for him, but something still felt off.

“Lucanis…” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“I need to work,” he said, shifting on his feet.

“Are you sure?” Teia asked. “You should take some time.”

“I don’t need time—I need a target,” he said darkly.

“You just got here, and already you want to leave again?” Illario questioned. How he didn’t understand was beyond me.

“Caterina gave me a contract. I’m not breaking the last deal she ever made. And I owe Rook. Once that’s done… I’ll come home,” he told them.

“I’ll return him in one piece,” I promised.

“Thank you,” Illario smiled at me. “Cousin. When you find Zara, I want—I need—to be there.”

Viago shook his head. “We’re under attack. Antaam on one side and now Venatori on the other? Forget revenge, we need you—”

“No, Viago,” Teia interrupted. “Zara came for us here. In my house. She took Caterina from my house. You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis. Vi and I will hold down the fort.”

“I’ll give her your regards, Teia,” Lucanis said.

“For Caterina,” she looked around at all of us.

—--------------------------------------

“They’re the same thing. Mostly. Well, kind of,” Bellara said as I walked in.

“Except one will manipulate you. Or kill you. Or both,” Neve replied.

“But how do you get rid of them?” Lucanis leaned against the fireplace, one hand braced against it, the other on his hip.

“What’s everyone talking about?” I asked.

“Spite,” Lucanis looked back over his shoulder at me.

“The demon in Lucanis,” Neve said. “When a person gets possessed—the demon usually takes control.”

“And they turn into a monster. The spirit just… molds them. However they want,” Bellara added.

“I’ve heard of abominations being cured by killing the demon in the Fade. That’s not a sure bet, though,” Neve thought.

“Well, there’s one way. But it’s well… we’d have to, um…”

“You’d have to kill me,” Lucanis finished.

“That can’t be the only solution. Can’t we… reason with Spite, maybe? Persuade him to leave?” I asked.

“Talk doesn’t work on Spite,” Lucanis said.

“She won’t hurt you. How sweet,” Spite crooned, the ghost of his form next to me. He vanished and appeared in front of Lucanis. “I want to talk to her!” Lucanis kept his gaze on me, no doubt seeing my eyes track the demon.

“Before we do, well, that. Let’s think this through some more. There has to be a solution,” Bellara said. I braced my hands against their chairs, leaning over them slightly.

“I have people in Minrathous I can ask, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Neve said.

“All right. So, what’s next?” I asked.

“Let me talk to them! I want. To talk. To Rook!” Spite swung, punching Lucanis in the nose. Blood spattered, and Lucanis winced, his hand going to his nose.

Bellara and Neve stood. “Lucanis!” Bellara cried.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he said, putting his arm out.

“He’s done this before? Enough that you just… shrug it off?” I questioned, leveling a glare at the aspect of Spite next to him.

“He’d do this in the Ossuary. The Fade does whatever a spirit wants. Real walls and chains, not so much. Just… give me a minute. He’ll get bored once everyone leaves.”

I leveled him with a stare that said I would absolutely not be leaving even as Bellara and Neve got up and left. Neve shot me a glance that said ‘be careful’, but I just nodded to her.

He put his hand back up against the fireplace and stared into the flames as I walked around the table, sliding up to sit on the edge of it.

“I thought you couldn’t see him. At the Ossuary…”

“I didn’t want him to know I could see him. That was the last thing we needed there,” I told him.

“You can hear him too?” He asked, looking back at me with furrowed brows.

“When I can see him or when he’s showing through you, yes,” I answered honestly.

“But the others, they can’t. Why is that?” He asked, looking at me curiously, if not a bit suspiciously.

I shrugged. “I’ve always had a connection to the Fade. In worse times I was in such turmoil a spirit of Compassion appeared in my dreams or pulled me out of reality if things got bad. And now that connection is stronger than ever. Some of my blood is circulating around in the Fade from when we interrupted Solas’s ritual. That’s how he visits me in my sleep.”

“I am sorry,” he said. “I can’t stand him, I didn’t want him to be a problem for you too.” I just shook my head. “I would kill for a decent cup of coffee right now.”

“Have you? For coffee, I mean,” I grinned.

I saw the corner of his lip twitch up. “Not today. You’ve got questions. You might as well ask them.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, watching him. “You’re the best mage killer in the Antivan Crows. So how’d the Venatori catch you?”

“Someone set me up,” he said simply. “I had a contract for Calivan. In the Ossuary. I took a ship from Treviso to Minrathous. They were waiting for me. Knew which ship and when it would arrive. I don’t know how they convinced the Crows I was dead, but I woke up in the Ossuary with Zara gloating about it.”

“Blood magic.” I could tell him that at least. One thing I had the answer to. “Caterina said they had dressed the body in your clothes and altered it with blood magic to look like your face too. I can’t even imagine… I know she… “volunteered” you to work with us. Are you okay with that?” I asked sincerely.

“When the First Talon of the Crows gives you a job, you do it. Especially if she’s your grandmother. But, there’s plenty of reason for me to work with you beyond that, Rook,” he said.

“Such as?” I tilted my head, kicking my feet under the table.

“I owe you a debt, for one. And after a year in that hole, maybe I’m looking forward to stabbing a god or two in the back,” he answered.

“Two!” Spite hissed.

“The Crossroads can be dicey, but the Lighthouse is safe. Oh, and if you see a spirit around called the Caretaker, they’re friendly,” I smiled.

“After the Ossuary, that will be a pleasant change,” he said with a grin. After a moment’s silence, he put his hands on his hips. “You haven’t asked anything about Spite.”

“Based on what I’ve seen, I’d say he picked the right name.”

“He’s stronger when I sleep. So… I try not to do it much. No one was in the Ossuary by choice. Not even the demons. We both did what we had to, to get out of there,” he told me.

“I admire you,” I told him. “What you’ve been through would break most people.”

“I would not give Zara the satisfaction,” he smirked.

“I understand. Still, you must be a very courageous man,” I smiled.

“A very stubborn one, perhaps. But, that’s… kind of you to say. Leave Spite to me. If he’s trapped in this world, he has a good reason to fight for it. For now, I must honor our contract. Gods, magic, politics…” he hummed, the rumble in his chest trying to drag me toward him. “Things are going to get very bloody.”

I gave him one last smile as he turned back toward the fire. “If you’re stubborn, I’d say Zara picked the right demon. If I remember right, Spite is a demon of Determination,” I smirked, looking back at him.

His brows were raised. “Perhaps it was the only thing she got right. She was nothing if not fond of irony.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Please give me your thoughts on this. I missed Cole and he was so important to me in Inquisition I wanted him to have a role in this story too, however minor. Also the back and forth with Solas gets me every time XD

Let me know if you want to be on a tag list! <3

Have a good day lovelies!

37 notes · View notes

dmercer91 · 1 year ago

Note

the one idea that won’t leave my head is black cat!reader having a horrible day, and not caring who’s around, she’s laser focused on finding luca, and she just clings to him

and maybe there’s tears involved, maybe there’s not, but either way, she (accidentally) let’s a few of the boys see her for her

the team loves!!!! landen

so much

and they all want to comfort her so bad (the only one that tries is mark. no thoughts, head empty)

after the whole ordeal she and luca are at home and she’s like 😟 they saw me emote

i also realized after reading this that i’ve never given any context as to who the fuck lola is so! lola is landen’s ex girlfriend. they’d initially got the apartment that lan is living in with luca this year together and then landen found out that lola was cheating on her and had never really been wlw to begin with.

lola was bicurious and her friend group had told her to use landen as a test. she’d realized after the first night that she wasn’t actually bi, but continued to drag lan on because landen loves really hard and she would’ve done anything for lola

after the breakup- landen shut down and locked lola out of the apartment with bags of most of her stuff at the front door. the bags were taken and lola never got her stuff back.

lan felt really guilty about it but luca and adam have both told her a million times that it wasn’t her fault, she was upset and if anything the bags being taken was karma

when landen started having luca over at the apartment, they ordered food and lola ended up being their delivery driver. she figured this was her chance to get her things back and when luca opened the door lola got extremely jealous and pretty much refused to believe that landen could be with him

landen took that really personally, cause she honestly has a little bit of an insecurity that she’s not the typical hockey gf and that she’s in over her head

she took the food and slammed the door in lola’s face and she absolutely refuses to speak to her.

she often comes up to lan at parties and on campus to try and tell her off and threaten to sue- which only started after she found out about luca

landens offered to pay her off and luca has even told lola and her boyfriend several times that everything was a complete accident, but they think the worst of landen and refuse to believe it

feeling too hard | opposites attract au, lf63

landen walked into yost with her head down, looking at the shoes she walked by until she saw a pair she knew belonged to someone she’d be comfortable looking at, or talking to

when she saw seamus’, she paused, eventually deciding that if it wasn’t gonna be luca himself, or at least rutger- she was gonna take someone she knew would help.

she looked up, seamus immediately stopping in his tracks at the tears that were welted in her eyes.

“luca. i’m getting luca, one sec, lan,” he rushed, spinning in the direction of the dressing room and going right to lucas cubby

by the time the boys had reached her again, she was sat with her legs crossed on the floor and her head hung. luca kneeled in front of her, her body immediately shifting forward so her head was on his shoulder.

he adjusted, taking her arms and wrapping them around his neck as he sat down, pulling her into his lap and kissing her temple

“what’s wrong, pretty? what happened?” he murmured softly, seamus having left the two of them to talk with some semblance of privacy

“i’m so tired, lu. i didn’t sleep last night cause of my presentation, which went horrible, cause she prof kept cutting me off to tell me to talk louder,” she started, slouched against him in complete exhaustion

“n’ then i worked from 10-6 and everyone was so mean today, it was really busy. someone pushed cudo and then knocked over all his food. a lot of people just kept arguing and i was alone today,” luca frowned to himself, knowing that she’d probably not be so upset had she been the only one affected

she could take a lot on herself- but the minute someone she loves is facing the same feelings she shuts down. everything falls and the stuff she’d already gone through only piled onto her frustrations

cudo was one of her favourite things in the world

“lola came to the store at the end of my shift.” she said, and luca froze. his hand stopped gliding up and down her back and his lips parted in shock.

“i just wanted to be left alone and so i just stood there and let her talk and then i walked away mid conversation and went on auto pilot to get here. i just needed to see you and everything is happening all at once and i don’t-“ she took a deep breath, trying to collect herself before the tears trapped on her waterline started to fall

“i haven’t been this overwhelmed in a long time and i’m feeling too many feelings and i want it all to stop,” she breathed out, sniffling into his shoulder and closing her eyes tight.

luca squeezed her closer, heart aching as he felt her finally start to cry, her body shaking in his arms.

“shh, angel. i’ve got you,” he whispered, holding the back of her head and keeping his lips pressed to her nose, kissing in between his sweet nothings.

he pulled the hat off his head, brushing her bangs back out of her face and putting his hat on her, backwards so that the hair would stay out of her face. he tightened it, fixing his hair slightly

“there, pretty. got your hair out of your face. i can get you something to eat? or i can have shea bring you my sweater,” she just nodded, looking up at him from his shoulder with shiny eyes and a sad look.

“alright, come on,” he helped her up, pressing a kiss to her lips before guiding her over to where they kept all the food, some of the guys that had been eating eyeing them a little.

she grabbed a bottle of water, a fruit cup and a granola bar, looking up at luca to confirm that she was ready to go back out to the hallway.

“i gotta get my gear on, pretty. but i’ll bring you my sweater and you can go sit on the bench. know you get hot, and the sound of our skates might drown out that head of yours’ hm?” she nodded, pulling him down to kiss her lips again

once she’d gotten his sweater, she made her way to the ice and sat cross legged on the bench, opening up her granola bar.

mark was the first one to get out onto the ice, taking a lap and then stopping at the bench.

“do i have to fight anyone? i’ll fight someone.” he joked, giving her a dumb grin as she chewed on her snack and eyed him, unsure.

“god?” his smile widened, and he nodded

“and i’d win,” he winked, taking off for another lap as she looked at her lap, fighting a smile.

#e’s 500 celly!#opposites attract au !#e’s blurbs!#luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #umich hockey #excuse the LONG ASS explanation before the actual blurb LMAO idk how to stfu

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sameschmidtdiffname · 11 months ago

Note

feeling a bit weird asking this request since i haven't actually seen anyone write such a thing, but i'd like to ask for something about the parent figure!mike (NOT SMUT OFC), maybe something he's the reader's father or brother or something, if it's not something you could write just ignore !!! (i'm also not a native speaker so i apologize if it sounds impolite i always have this problem :/)

Girl have you read my fics?? Do NAWT come on here talking about feeling weird for a request when I have written shit that's sending me to super hell with Jensen Ackles or whoever played the angel guy from Supernatural. (I hope that joke made sense, I'm not in that fandom </3)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!! Fresh off the press for you pookie <3 (BTW, your English js great and you weren't demanding at all!! Seriously, don't feel bad 😊)

Same Shit, Different Schmidt

Dad! Mike & Gender Neutral! Reader

(This gif always sends me, I'm sorry)

Summery: You are a stubborn ass and Mike is not here to put up with that shit. Where'd you get this attitude, anyways? Is it so hard to just listen?

Tags: No use of Y/N, Reader is Mike's child, this is lowkey a sequel to 'What's One More?' but that is absolutely not required to read this, sickness, reader almost passes out, slight angst, Mike takes care of reader, Mike has a come to Jesus moment, mentions of arguing, injury, underage drinking, Abby and Mike go at it at one point, just a cute lil drabble :)

Notes: it feels illegal to post something so short. Is this allowed?? Anyways, this was so cute to write! Definitely a new approach. I hope you guys like this! Thanks for the request anon, I always love getting them 💗

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

"I'm fine," you groaned emphatically, trying to to rise from the bed, musty from your body's sweat during the night.

"You are not fine, do not bullshit me," Mike scolded. His hands pressed you back onto the bed, his scowl growing as he feels your temperature through your moist shirt. "When did this start?"

"I told mom my throat hurt last night and she gave me some ibuprofen. It's seriously just a cold," you said, trying one more time to rise from the bed.

"You always get a sore throat before you get sick, have since you were a kid. When did the fever start?" His hand feels freezing against your clammy forehead, making you shy away to avoid the chills that threaten you.

"Not hot."

"You want me to call your mom so you can gaslight her, too?" His tone is firm and threatening. "Is there something you're trying to get away with here or...?"

"I have tech tonight for my show, I can't miss," you finally admit. You open your mouth to continue, but Mike quickly cuts you off.

"No. Out of the question," he said.

"Dad, I'll get in trouble-"

"You will get everyone else sick and then what? I said no," he said firmly. But when he sees the way you sink into the bed, eyes sad and finally accepting the situation, he thinks of your mother acting in a similar manner or Abby when she was your age with the same attitude. It makes him relent, pressing his lips tight together. "What do you need me to do?" He asked, voice softer as he strokes your cheek. Your eyes brighten for a moment, a smile breaking out. "You're not going, I'm just asking what I could do to help."

You sink into the bed once more, crossing your arms.

"My director is gonna hate me," you mumble.

"I will deal with her, or she will deal with me. I promise you one's better than the other," he said. At that you crack a smile, finally looking at him.

"Mom's not gonna be pleased either," you said.

"Mom's not gonna let you go either," he said. "I'm getting the thermometer and then I'm moving you to the living room so I can watch you better. You get control of the TV as your consolation prize."

You twirl your finger in the air, rolling your eyes as emit a mocking 'yay,' glaring at him as he shoots the same glare down at you, walking out of the room and slipping his phone out of his pocket to call your mother.

"How upset are they?" She asked on the other side of the phone. He could hear the office chatter going on around her as he searched through the cabinets for the supplements they kept in stock.

"They're not thrilled. Not planning my death yet, but it's coming," Mike huffed. "Is it elderberry that helps with sore throats?"

"Elderberry makes it worse after you get sick, helps before. Don't give them that," she said. There's a slight pause before she adds "You realize this attitude is inherited?"

"Oh," he groaned, sucking on his teeth. "I wasn't gonna throw you under the bus like that."

"I helped raise Abby, do not pin this on me," she laughed.

"I don't deny sickness," Mike said.

"I can name five seperate instances where you did," she countered. Mike froze for a moment, trying to remember. "Just go easy on them. Remember you're dealing with your kid."

"And yours," he countered.

"Supposedly," she teased.

"I'm pretty sure that was you I knocked up."

"But are you sure?"

"Well, there was that one time with your mom."

She laughed. "Have them text me when they can. I'll deal with director, she knows me better."

"Thanks. She terrifies me. Kinda get why they don't wanna miss," Mike admitted. With a quick laugh and a quicker goodbye, Mike clicks off the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He gathered the vitamins in a small cup, grabbed the other needed items and made his way back to the room that used to house his little sister.

"Okay, Mom's dealing with director and is willing to grab dinner of your choice if you'll-" Mike trails off at the sight of your empty bed, worry prickling through and tainting the annoyance rising in his chest. He calls your name, turning to look for you before his ears tune in on the shower running in the bathroom. He sighs, placing the items on your bedside table and making his way to the living room. All is well until about ten minutes after the water shuts off, when he heard a small but sure 'thud' ring from the room.

"Honey?" He called. Nothing.

He rises from his chair, his mind trying to remind himself to stay calm and not jump to its automatic thoughts of harm and anxiety as he walked quickly to the door.

"If you don't answer I'm coming in," he warned. The quiet groan on the otherside is all he needed to quickly open the unlocked door, trying not to panic as he catches sight of you curled up on the floor with your head between your knees.

"I'm fine," you said quietly. "Got dizzy." Your clothes are thrown on haphazardly and it's clear how disoriented you are. Your hair doesn't even look properly washed.

Mike's arms are comforting, familiar and protective as he carefully lifts you up, taking you to the couch as though you weigh nothing to him. When his mind is racing like this, you may as well not.

"What were you thinking?" He asked in a panicked voice. "I told you you weren't going."

"My director hates me and tech is like, our biggest practice. I can't miss," you insisted, barely able to stand the light shining through the open windows. The couch is cool against your skin, the old leather offering relief. Mike had brought it home a few years back, a surprise he'd found at a thrift store with your help. Still pricey but a Christmas gift for everyone in the house. Your mother shook her head as she finally agreed maybe the couch that was as old as her needed to be replaced.

"Your mom is dealing with her and she's gonna deal with you next if you don't listen to either of us," Mike said. He ran back to your room, collecting the items and returning to your side before you could even respond. "Can you just let us take care of you?"

Oh. Oh. Fine, okay. There it is. He hears it now, that point your mother had just been making.

As the thermometer takes longer than he'd like to beep, he sighs at the sight of you looking like death on the couch. "You get this attitude from me," he finally sighed. You raise your brow quizzically, waiting for him to continue. A soft noise emits from the device. Mike takes it from your mouth and scowls at the number that flashes back at him. He hands you a now room temperature cup of throat coat tea with three ibuprofen to help with the fever before he takes your hand.

"Did I tell you about the time your mother had to drag me to the emergency room for stitches on my forehead?" He asked, smiling. You snort, taking another sip of your drink. "It happened when you were little. I don't even think you were two. Abby was going out with this idiot and figured out how to take out the screen in her window so she could sneak out without any of us knowing. This girl was bad news, I mean-"

"Aunt Abby?" You asked.

"What? No. No, the girl she was going out with, Lisa Browning. Had her come home with a belly button piercing once, I wasn't happy about that. Anyways, Abby decided that she was going to this party one night and I'd found her bed empty halfway through the night while I was going to check on you. Well, I decided I was gonna wait for her in her room with the lights off until she got home. So I sat in front of her window and eventually got tired, so I shut my eyes. Figured it couldn't hurt. Took a couple hours, but eventually your mother woke up and my side of the bed was empty and she heard this loud as fuck noise from your aunts room. This is like four in the morning, mind you," he said. "So she jumped out of bed and heard your aunt yelling, saw some guy in dark clothes on the floor, open window and the lights are off, and she's still wiping sleep out of her eyes."

"Oh no," you groaned.

"Oh yes. Grabbed some metal Eiffel Tower thing on Abby's desk and just swung at my head. Hurt like a bitch," he laughed, you joining in as much as you could without hurting your throat. "It was a good hit. I think she realized it was me when I grabbed her ankle and hollered her name cause she stopped right after that. Wasn't too bad, but I wouldn't stop bleeding."

"So did Abby get in trouble?" You asked.

"Are you kidding? I was even more pissed, I chased her down the hallway after her girlfriend climbed in and fell on top of me. I was ready to kill her. Your mother had to drag me and her into the car, go back and grab you and deal with us screaming at each other all the way to the hospital. Not that I wanted to go, I was fine with just pressing a dishcloth to the thing and carrying on with my plan to rip my sister a new one. She had to threaten us both to actually get me inside, and I only conceded because I was too dizzy to object by that point. I think the nurses assumed she was insane. I mean, kid on her hip, dressed in pajamas with some drunk teenager bickering with a guy bleeding from his head at the crack of dawn. I'm surprised no one called the cops. They did have to almost seperate Abby and I, though. Which just upset me more."

"How did they get you to calm down?" You asked.

"Your mother handed you to me while she walked Abby to a bathroom so she could take a go at her. And you were all upset anyways because I wasn't paying attention to you and you didn't understand why the nurses were fuckin' with me or why I was upset. Once I had you in my arms I refocused, calmed down a good bit. Someone brought me a book to read you and we got to focus on that while they prepped me for stitches," he said the last part softly. "I was so glad when Abby got out of her teen rebellion phase."

"She ruined mine," you joked.

"Yeah. She used pretty much every trick in the book, so we were ready for you. Sorry," he said.

"It's fine, I don't like parties."

"I don't either."

Mike's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, typing a quick response before refocusing on you. "Your mother wants to know what you're thinking for dinner," he said.

"Chinese?" You asked.

"That comes from your mom's side," he smiled. "She'll be pleased."

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Short but sweet. This was a fun one :)

Taglist:

@jhutchissupercool @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support! <3

Masterlist

#josh hutcherson fnaf #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt #mike fnaf #mike #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x you #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson x reader #jhutch

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years ago

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part eight

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

hope is a dangerous thing.

a/n: it’s heeeeeeeeere. full disclosure - it might be a few days until part 9 goes up; as far as I know, tonight’s ep shows some flashbacks which means I might have to do a bit of revamping! plus I really don’t wanna burn myself out with this one, there’s still so much ground to cover!!

word count: 4.5k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, canon-typical violence and injuries, death, blood, yearning, nightmares, mentions/allusions to sex, if I missed something let me know.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters!✨

The days bleed into months, and before you know it, the snow comes. Winter.

You haven’t left the mall. Or, haven’t been allowed to leave the mall. Every time you cross paths with Cowan, it’s the same conversation.

“Let me through the gate.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You’re nothing if not persistent, but you try your best to make yourself useful. You and Deanna have formed some kind of friendship, and you help her out as much as you can. At first, you don’t know much about treating injuries besides the bit you remember from an old first aid course, so you pay close attention to her movements, handing her supplies when she needs it, taking her orders in stride.

She was an army nurse, you learn, and lost her husband long before the outbreak. “Just as well,” she told you, a sad smile on her face. “He barely came back to me after Vietnam. I don’t think he could have survived this.”

They never had kids, but she tells you her niece and nephew may as well have been her own. “They live in Cape Cod, on the coast.” Her face went dark. “Lived.” Then she looked at you. “You remind me of my niece, you know. Fierce little thing.”

She teaches you how to dress wounds and clean them, when something needs stitches and when glue will do, how to stretch the materials you have left as far as possible. When injured soldiers show up after the first snow, she puts you to work.

Cowan’s among them, a ricochet bullet in his shoulder. Deanna hasn’t shown you anything like that yet, and you balk a little as he pulls off his gear, blood pouring down his arm. “Wait here.”

You sprint across the floor to where Deanna is literally elbow-deep in another soldier who clearly hadn’t been as lucky as Cowan. “What d’you need, kid?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, spying a pair of forceps on the table nearby and grabbing them. “Just these. I’ll come help you after—”

“You go take care of Nicky,” she orders, her voice almost stern. “You don’t leave his side until you know he’s all right, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You sprint back to Cowan, finding him hunched over, hand pressed to his arm, blood staining his knuckles. You grab a pair of scissors from the tray beside you, hooking your arm under his shoulder and getting him upright. “Fuck!” he shouts, and you grit your teeth.

“Sorry.” You cut away his t-shirt, pulling the fabric from where it’s wedged between his fingers, and his other hand curls into a fist on the table. “What happened?”

“Bunch of runners,” he breathes out, and you yank his hand away from the wound quickly, replacing it with a thick scrap of towel, pressing your hand into his shoulder. He winces, tipping his head back. “Came right up over the fence.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I told you that chain link wouldn’t hold forever.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should run the world.” He meets your gaze, holds it. “You ask me to let you through the gate again, and I swear to god—”

“I wasn’t going to,” you say quickly. It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “But I want to help, if I can.”

The towel has already soaked through with his blood, and it makes your gut twist. “Help?”

“Teach me to shoot,” you say. You’re trying to distract him, and grab his hand, pressing it against the towel. “Hold this.”

“Bat’s not enough for you?”

“No, but the rifle I found in the sporting goods shop upstairs will definitely help,” you reply, grabbing the forceps and wiping them down with a bit of antiseptic. “Especially once I get out of here.”

Cowan stares at you, that hard gaze he’s become famous for. “Why d’you wanna get out of here so bad? You’re—”

“If you tell me I’m safe here, Corporal, I’m leaving that bullet in your shoulder.”

He actually laughs. “God, you are something else, you know that?”

You freeze, for a moment. Suddenly, you’re standing in your kitchen, in Austin. Joel Miller is handing you a bouquet of daisies and telling you you’re beautiful and kissing your cheek. The memory catches you off-guard, and you only come back down to earth when Cowan squeezes your wrist, peering at you.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply instantly, shaking your head. “We need to get that bullet out.”

You hold up the forceps, bracing your hand on his collar. “This isn’t gonna feel great, is it?”

“Well, it sure as hell won’t tickle,” you admit. “Is this the first time you’ve taken a bullet?”

“No. Second.”

“Pull this away, when I say,” you instruct, tapping the back of his hand. “I gotta be quick.”

“Have you done this before?”

You lift a shoulder, a nervous little laugh falling out of your mouth. “I watched Deanna do it a couple weeks back. It was in the guy’s gut though, not his shoulder.”

“Did he live?”

You go quiet. “Move your hand.” He hesitates. “Now, Cowan.”

He moves his hand, pulling the towel away, and you push the forceps in. The air seems to go completely still as you fish for the bullet. Cowan’s face is screwed up in pain, both hands curled around the edge of the cot, white-knuckled. “Did the guy live?”

“No,” you admit finally, feeling the soft clink of metal hitting metal. Bingo. “But we found a bite on his leg after, so the internal bleeding was probably the better way to go.” You twist the forceps, and he hisses in pain. “Tell me about the first time you got shot.”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?” you quip, and he actually smiles.

“It was basic training,” he starts, and you nod, focusing on his shoulder. The forceps pinch around the bullet, and you pull ever so slightly. “My buddy and I were just fucking around. He didn’t know the thing was loaded.”

“He shot you on purpose?” you ask, brows raised. You pull a little more, making sure the grip holds.

“Not on purpose,” Cowan replies, and you can feel his eyes on your face. “We were just kids, then. Just screwing around, trying to fill the time. And now…”

“He still around?” you ask, prompting him further. “Your buddy.”

“I hope so,” he replies. “He moved to California, after we finished basic. I really hope he—motherfucker!”

You pull the bullet all the way out with a flourish, dropping the forceps onto the tray and grabbing a fresh piece of gauze. He hisses again when you press the new gauze to his shoulder, and you scoff. “Baby.”

“You just pulled a bullet out of me.”

“I’m aware,” you throw back, pressing a little harder. “I still think you’re a baby.”

He gives you the signature Stare before glancing down at his shoulder, taking over the pressure you’re holding, and you step away to get an actual roll of gauze. “Meet me at the south entrance tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.” You turn back, your brows raised. “To shoot, I mean. Bring the rifle. You have ammo?”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Yeah, managed to find a few boxes.”

“Good.”

You nod, unable to hide the grin that pulls your lips. “Good.”

They’re somewhere near Nashville. He thinks; Tommy’s been navigating, Joel’s just been following his brother. The weather has held up mostly, but now they’re holed up in some shack Tommy found in the woods, hiding from the rain. It’s been constant, nearly three days now, and Joel can’t fucking sleep.

He hasn’t slept well since they left Austin, not that he expected to. The few beds they’ve found have been heaven, but every time he closes his eyes, the dreams come, and he’s reliving that night all over again. Doesn’t matter how many days go by, and he knows it doesn’t matter at all how much time passes. He’s never gonna forget.

He took first watch, told Tommy to get some shuteye and parked himself on the front porch, watching the rain slide of the metal roof, pooling in front of the shack, running downhill like a river. There’s mud caked on his boots, and he feels dirty down to his bones. It’s been a few days since they had real shelter, though, and he revels in the silence, being away from the main roads.

But the silence lets his mind wander, and when that happens, it lands on you, more often than not. Sarah is always there, in the back of his head, the sound of her voice forcing him further, but when he gets a moment alone — a rarity now — he lets himself remember you.

Your last conversation still haunts him. The fear in your voice, the way you’d sounded so out of it when you first picked up, and he’d brought you back down, focused you. Patch yourself up. Take what you can and go. Get the hell out of Boston.

I’ll find you, baby.

Sometimes, the hope invades his heart like a disease, branching through his limbs and making his chest ache with it. He has to hope that you made it out, that you’re alive somewhere, that your paths are leading straight towards each other. Every time they come over a hill or turn a corner, he feels that tug in his gut, a quiet promise that this time, you’ll be heading straight towards him, a big smile on your face.

But Joel knows that hope is a dangerous thing to let in, to nurture. As hard as he wishes you alive, he knows the opposite is more than likely. He sees it when he does manage to get some sleep, nightmares infiltrating his brain until he wakes up panting, the phantom feeling of his daughter’s blood on his skin melting away far too slowly.

Right now, he’s forcing himself to remember the good.

That last week, before you’d left for Boston. He took you to that open field every night, almost, held you in his arms, kept you close and never let your mouth get too far from his. He’d buried his face in your neck and memorized the smell of you, the feel of you, the taste.

You pulled on his hand, led him away from the truck and into the open field. You laid down in the grass side by side, the sound of crickets and the soft wind the only thing you could hear. He’d leaned over you, cupped your cheek in his palm, rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. You kissed his fingers, giggling when he rolled himself on top of you a moment later, his mouth chasing yours.

He planted his hands either side of your head and you reached for his belt, dragging your hands down his chest. He could feel your heartbeat, when he pressed himself against you, the twitch of your knees along his ribs as you held him closer. That’s how it always was between you two, who could get the other closer, how much could you pull until the space between no longer existed?

Joel still remembers the noise you made when he pushed into you, right there in the grass. The way you’d dug your nails into his back so fucking hard it made him moan louder, the sound echoing through the night. The blissful smile on your face as the pleasure ripped through you, and Joel felt it, the tightness of your body, the way he could taste it on your tongue.

God, he loved you so goddamned much.

A clap of thunder yanks him out of his head, and he flinches hard, the gun in his lap sliding onto the wooden porch. He’s on his feet in a moment, shoving both hands through his hair, and without another thought, he steps out from under the shelter of the roof. The rain pelts him instantly, soaking through his clothes, making goosebumps rise on his arms.

It feels good. He tilts his face towards the sky, feels the water drip down his arms.

He hears your voice, in his head. What you said that night, under the stars, laid out on his chest, your eyes glassy. “I won’t ever stop thinking about you, Joel Miller. Not for a million years.”

He never should have let you leave Austin. Not in a million years.

Cowan stays true to his word. He teaches you to shoot, not just the rifle you’d stolen from the mall, but other guns, too. Shows you some tricks with the hunting knife you’d found in Dean’s bag, even teaches you how to build a fire. You stop asking him to let you through the gate, and he stops giving you the Stare. After a few lessons, he starts bringing you along on patrols. You carry the rifle and the bat, the hunting knife strapped to your thigh. The temperature is dropping, the snow sticking consistently, and the UPS jacket you’d stolen months back comes in handy, keeping you warmer than you expect.

There’s not much conversation to be had between you two, and when you do talk, it’s light shit. You avoid the subject of families, partners and the like. You mostly talk about music, and you laugh the hardest you have in a long time when Cowan admits to you that he’s seen the Backstreet Boys in concert three separate times. You’re bent in half with laughter, tears in your eyes, and he starts laughing along with you.

The laughter stops, however, when you circle back to the mall. There are four trucks outside, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up when you see Deanna step through the doors. Everyone else who’d been inside, faces you recognize, people you’ve met, they’re all coming out of the mall. Deanna has blood on her scrubs, a strange look in her eye.

“McCoy!” Cowan calls once you’re close enough, and a soldier turns. “What’s going on?”

Both the soldiers step to the side, and you make a bee-line for Deanna, swinging your rifle onto your back. “What happened?”

The older woman looks shaken, and she grabs you once you’re close enough, her hands digging into the sleeves of your coat. “T-Tim,” she stutters, and your brow hardens. You know who she’s talking about; Tim, his wife Marcy, their two kids. Their cots weren’t far from yours in the department store. You’d helped their youngest son, Henry, when he’d cracked his forehead on the tile, tripped on his own feet chasing his little sister, Emily, around the mall. Hell, you’d had dinner with them just the night prior, you and Tim had made the kids giggle slurping your noodles. “He just…” Deanna trails off, and fear twists your stomach in an iron vice.

“Are the kids okay?”

She nods furiously, still holding onto you tightly. “But…but Marcy, she…he just…” She looks back towards the mall, gestures for a moment before clapping her hand over her mouth. “I’d never seen one up close before.”

Deanna collapses into your arms, and you hug her tightly, half worried she’s passed out, but the worry passes when you feel her hands fist in the back of your jacket. Over her shoulder, you see a soldier leading Henry and Emily outside. Henry still has a bandaid on his forehead, and Emily is clutching his hand, tear tracks on her face. Your heart aches.

“I’m gonna go with them,” Deanna tells you, pulling away after a moment, and you just nod. She jogs after the kids, and you turn back to where Cowan and McCoy are still talking. Cowan has a hard look on his face, and his jaw tightens as you approach.

“What the hell is going on?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re supposed to be safe in the mall, Corporal. That’s what you said. I could have been halfway to Texas by now. Hell, I could have been in Texas by now.”

“I know what I said,” he bites back before heaving a sigh. “We got an update, from FEDRA HQ.”

You lift a brow. “And?”

He glances at the stream of people still filing out of the mall. “The fungus, the thing that’s causing this, it’s in the food. We need to check everything that was in the mall, everything that was handed out. Production dates, expiry dates, it’ll give us an idea of what needs to be destroyed, but—”

“But there’s a chance everyone in there ate something contaminated,” you finish, swallowing back the bile that rises in your mouth. “There’s a chance we’re all already infected.”

Cowan’s throat bobs. “Yes.”

“What do we do now, then?” you ask, jutting your chin towards the people filling the street outside the mall. “Where do we go? Standing around here like this, it’s just gonna attract them.”

“There are buildings that have been deemed safe,” McCoy tells you, and Cowan just nods. “The quarantine zone has been marked off. We take everyone there, separate you for now, keep an eye out for anyone changing.”

Cowan nods. “Check everyone for bites, again.” He meets your eyes for a moment before calling for two other soldiers. He starts barking orders, and you turn to McCoy.

“I thought the city was the quarantine zone.”

He shakes his head. “Too much space. FEDRA gave us the borders, showed us where to go. The walls’ll go up soon, and we’ll be that much safer.”

You balk. “More chain link bullshit?”

McCoy shakes his head again. “No, ma’am. Bricks. Guard towers, barbed wire. The whole kit and caboodle.”

You swallow hard. Shit.

The chain link stays up. The walls of the quarantine zone press deeper into the city, and as promised, you’re shuffled into apartment buildings. There’s still blood everywhere you look, damaged ceilings, broken windows. It’s not perfect by any stretch, but the building itself is intact, and that’s apparently good enough for FEDRA.

They put you in separate units, the number of survivors taking up less than half the building. You stay with Deanna and the kids. Emily clings to your side, her arms wrapped around your leg more often than not. She hasn’t said a word since you left the mall.

The soldiers patrol the streets and the hallways, and after a week, six more people turn. They’re put down without a second thought, their bodies carried out of the building. The food supplies are carted from the mall to a warehouse within the new zone limits, and everything that was given to you is taken back for inspection. It’s a lot of waiting, of pacing the floor of your new home, of trying to come up with ways to distract the kids from what’s happening.

Shortly after you’d been evacuated from the mall, they’d brought out Tim and Marcy’s bodies, and your hands had started to shake violently when you saw the blood on Tim’s face, the deep gouge in his wife’s throat. Bullets in both their skulls. It had all happened so fast.

And you’d been eating the same things they had.

The worry gnaws at your stomach. You’d protested, at first, when Deanna insisted you come with them. You couldn’t explain it, couldn’t bear to see the pain on the older woman’s face deepen when you admitted you feared the worst. She still managed to pull it out of you, later that night, after you’d put the kids to sleep in the only bedroom, the pair of you sitting at the kitchen table.

“If it happens, it happens, kid,” she said, gripping your hand tightly. “And we deal with it. That’s all we can do.” You’d nodded, and she’d reached into her bad, producing a bottle of gin. “Something to take the edge off.” You nodded again.

A week passed, the six were put down, and you were safe. Your mind started to wander. Trucks filled with construction material arrived at the edges of the quarantine zone every day; you could see them from the apartment. More FEDRA soldiers, some venturing into the city to find usable materials. Soon enough, the wall was starting to take shape.

And if the wall went all the way up, that meant you were never getting out of Boston. Never getting the opportunity to find your family, or Joel.

But, the wall has only just begun, which means there are still holes in the boundary, and with more soldiers assigned to the quarantine zone itself, that means the chain link is left unguarded, for the most part.

They announce curfew hours and the consequences for breaking those hours, and you start planning. Collecting things, weapons and food that won’t spoil, refilling your first aid kit. You take what ammo you can find, nicking a few boxes from the FEDRA tents when no one’s paying attention. You still have the maps from the bookstore, your hastily-drawn path still marked on the pages.

You wait for nightfall, and you run.

You leave Deanna a note, tell her you’re sorry, tell her you’ll try to send a message that you’re safe, once you are. The kids are fast asleep, and you kiss their heads before you go.

Your path through the city leads you right past your apartment, and your heart nearly stops. The entire front of the building has been exploded inward, no doubt a result of the bombings. If you look hard, you can see the edge of your living room, behind the twisted rebar and broken bricks. You want to linger, but you don’t, the shout of an Infected pushing you forward, gripping the bat tightly.

The construction of the wall left a lot of tools laying around, and it was all too easy to find a pair of large wire cutters. You found a piece of chain link in an alley within the quarantine zone, and tested it out. Sure enough, a clean cut.

There are still patrols along the chain link, but they’re more sporadic. The guard posts have been dismantled, dragged further inwards, set up again along the new walls. You see a soldier pass by the spot you’re aiming for, and wait until he’s completely out of sight before bolting across the pavement to the fence, pulling out the wire cutters.

You have one foot through when you hear a familiar voice.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Cowan’s kept his distance, since you moved into the building. It bothers you and doesn’t at the same time. But in a way, you got what you wanted from him; you’re more confident that you could make it beyond the fence now. Especially with the rifle strapped to your back.

Your head drops, and you pull your leg back out, straightening and turning on your heel towards him. “You really thought I wouldn’t try it?”

“I really didn’t think you were this stupid,” he shoots back, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. You will die out there, why don’t you get that?”

You grip the chain link, the metal rattling beneath your shaking fingers. “I can’t just sit around here for the rest of my life, Cowan.”

“So you’d rather waste it, out there?” He gestures towards the fence with his rifle, to what lays beyond. “What good will that do? You’re smart, you know there’s a good chance your family is dead.”

“But until I know—” you start, and your voice betrays you, cracking on the word. You swallow hard. “Why can’t you just let me go? What difference does it make?”

His strange dark eyes narrow at you. They’re blue, you’ve come to learn, but a dark shade that sometimes looks black. “Come with me. There’s something I want you to see.” You open your mouth to protest, and he lifts a hand. “Come with me first; if you still want to leave afterward, then I’ll take you through myself.”

You stare at him for a long moment before slinging your bag from your shoulders, pulling out a length of rope. You thread it through the split fence, yanking the metal back into place and tying it off. Once you’re done, you get back to your feet, and when Cowan turns to leave, you follow.

He takes you back to the quarantine zone. A few soldiers shoot you looks, since you’re out past curfew, but Cowan waves them all off. “She’s with me.”

You keep following him, heart hammering in your throat as he leads you into one of the buildings they’ve cleared out. Down a long hallway, a few more soldiers giving you looks, before Cowan ducks through a doorway, waving at you to follow.

“What is this?”

There are tables everywhere, cords spilling out of boxes, hooked along the walls. On the walls, all sorts of maps and notices, FEDRA orders staring back at you. A soldier sits in the middle of it all, headphones hooked over her ears, twisting the knobs on a gigantic radio, adjusting the antenna. When she sees you and Cowan standing there, she pulls off the headphones, a grin on her face. “Hey, Nick.”

“Melissa,” he nods, and juts his thumb towards you. “Can you set it for the Austin base? And give us a sec?”

She just nods, her face falling slightly, and twists more of the knobs. Her brow furrows a bit until she gets the right frequency, and then she gets up out of her chair, holds the headphones towards you. “Hit the red button to talk, and let go once you’re done, or else they can’t talk back.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the headset from her. You look at Cowan. “What is…?”

“It’ll connect you with the FEDRA base in Austin. You can give them the names, of the people you’re looking for. They’ll be able to tell you if they’re in the shelters there. If they’re not there, there’s no telling if they’re alive or dead, but at least you’ll know if they’re safe or not.”

Your brow furrows. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“I can’t reassure you,” Cowan says bluntly, and as you sink into the chair, he perches on the desk beside you. “No one can. The world is a fucking minefield, and while yes, I’ll admit you’re a good shot and you clearly know what you’re doing with that bat, you will die out there. If your family isn’t still in Austin, I can almost guarantee you, they are dead.”

You rip your eyes from his face, turning your gaze to the radio, the little flashing lights and the knobs. “You don’t know that.”

There’s a hand under your chin a second later, and Cowan turns your face towards him again, drags your eyes back to his. “I meant what I said. If you still want to leave, I will take you through the gate myself, no more bullshit. But talk to the base first. Find out if they’re still there before you throw your life away on hope.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers

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mushiewrites · 7 months ago

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Say Aaaah!

so about a year ago, @fluffallamaful + I talked about one of the weirdest ideas I think I've ever brainrotted. we told @wishitweresummer, and since then, she has been begging me to write it. and now here we are, a year later and deep into lee!George week, and I decided to finally write the idea for her! this is 100% for summer, and I'm so excited for everyone to read the silliest and most ridiculous fic I've ever written! (and thank you to @awkwardtickleetoo for helping me with the title and reading it as always)

don't forget to check out this tag to see all of the amazing additions to lee!GeorgeSummer, and you can find out more about the prompts in this post!

anyway, enjoy Day 6 of lee!George week! :3

(lee!George / ler!Sapnap / ler!Dream : 4.2K words)

“George, you’ve been here for like, two years now, right?”

The question cut through the quiet atmosphere of the living room, only being previously filled by random videos that Dream and George kept showing each other as they sat practically in each other’s laps on the L-shaped couch. George turned his attention to Sapnap, who was sitting on the opposite side of the couch with Patches propped up against his thigh, his hand dragging lightly over her head as she purred happily.

“Yeah, you know this…why? You want me to go back already?” George huffed out a laugh, raising an eyebrow as Sapnap snorted at his question.

“Well yes, but that’s not what I was gonna say.”

“Okay, then what?” George asked suspiciously, never fully trusting Sapnap when he’s asking for information. There was always an underlying purpose, never questioning things just for the hell of it. George knew he had some kind of angle behind his curiosity, he just didn’t know where Sapnap was going with it.

“You haven’t been to any doctors since you’ve been here, have you?” Sapnap leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his fingers together, careful not to disturb Patches as he did so.

“Wait, really?” Dream questioned from beside him, watching as George shrugged at the two with little care.

“Yeah, I guess I haven’t,” George looked between the two, confused at the way they were both staring at him. “What’s the big deal? I’m fine, there hasn’t been anything wrong.”

“Well yeah, but normally you’re supposed to go for a check-up at least once a year to make sure everything is working okay.” Dream commented, turning his body towards Sapnap as he turned to him for validation in his words.

“Mhm! Or…at least to the dentist for a cleaning, you know?” Sapnap added, nodding his head to let Dream know he agreed. Dream nodded along with Sapnap, looking to George to see if he was even still paying attention. To his surprise he was, nodding slightly before looking down at his own hands, playing with his fingers as a distraction.

“I guess so, but like, it’s fine! I don’t need to go right now,” George continued to fidget with his fingers, waiting for one of the other two to speak, but he was met with a silence that felt too awkward for him to not continue. “I mean, if somethings wrong I’ll go, but like…it’s fine for now. Let’s just drop it.”

“George,” He heard Dream start, almost wincing at how gentle his voice was. “You aren’t scared of the doctors, are you?” George stayed quiet, refusing to make eye contact with either of them as he kept his mouth shut in a tight line. After a few more seconds of silence, Sapnap cackled from across the room.

“Are you serious?! Georgie is scared of the big bad doctor? Of the mean, evil dentist? No way!”

“Sapnap-” Dream tried to stop the teasing before it went any further, but Sapnap continued to yell out comments in disbelief.

“This is too good! Little baby George is scawed!” Sapnap fell back into the couch, his arms crossing over his stomach as he did and scaring Patches in the process. She jumped down onto the floor, quickly sprinting out of the room as Sapnap’s laugh grew louder. George rolled his eyes at the sound, letting out an annoyed grunt as he too flopped back against the couch cushions. Dream reached a hand out and placed it gently on his knee, rubbing his thumb soothingly as he looked down at him.

“It’s okay, George, don’t listen to him. Everyone’s scared of something.” George rolled his eyes again at how supportive Dream was, almost more annoyed with him just accepting that George was scared of something so silly.

“I’m not scared!” He exclaimed suddenly, standing up from the couch and pacing around the living room with a hand flinging roughly through his hair. He turned towards Sapnap, throwing his arms up in the air as he shrugged. “It's just…I get nervous going to new people, okay? It’s just like, an anxiety thing, I don’t know! But I’m not! Scared!”

Dream stood up and walked to where George was standing, placing his hands on either shoulder and leading George back to the couch to sit down. George was blushing profusely, embarrassed at the way the conversation was going as Sapnap continued to laugh and make snide comments about how scared he was. While he was deep in thought, Sapnap suddenly gasped, shooting up to a standing position and marching himself over to where George was sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Wait. I have an amazing idea.”

“Oh no.” George sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his hands, shaking his head in disapproval as he waited for Sapnap to continue. It was clear Sapnap was waiting for someone to ask, but George wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“What?” Dream pressed further for him, equally as curious as George was.

“So, it’s kind of like-” Sapnap began, suddenly grabbing onto George’s arms and pulling him from the couch. He wrestled the older boy onto the floor, giggling maniacally as it took virtually no effort to take him down. George let out a shriek as Sapnap got him onto his back, straddling his waist quickly and pressing his wrists into the carpet below him.

“Get off me, idiot!” George choked out, trying to fling himself forward as he kicked his feet against the ground. Sapnap continued to laugh at his struggle, shaking his head as he kept George down easily.

“George, we’re gonna help you get over your fears! We’re gonna play doctor!” Sapnap exclaimed, looking up at Dream and giggling when he was met with a bright smile. George let out a strained grunt as he tried to buck his hips up, gaining leverage as he pressed his heels into the carpet to assist in his efforts. It failed, naturally, and Sapnap laughed in his face at his pathetic attempt.

“Stohop!” George couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, letting his head fall back against the carpet with a hard thud. He pulled his arms as much as he could, continuing to kick and push up with his legs to try and buck Sapnap off, but he was getting nowhere.

“Dream, I’m gonna need a hand holding down our patient, here. He’s very nervous and needs all the help he can get to make sure he’s relaxed!” Sapnap spoke over George’s protests, giggling as he thrashed around on the carpet like a fish out of water.

“Sure thing, doctor!” Dream responded as a soldier would, giving Sapnap a quick salute with his hand to his forehead before jumping into action. Before George could process what was happening, Sapnap’s weight was replaced with Dream’s, effectively halting his bottom half from squirming. He lifted himself up onto his elbows and was met with the sight of Dream’s back, staring daggers into the blonde curls through his panicked laughter as much as he could. It was then that he saw Sapnap peek around from behind Dream, clearly kneeling in front of George’s feet and giving him a wink before he hid back behind the wall that Dream’s body created between the two. He watched as Dream leaned forward, feeling a strong grip around both of his ankles that pressed them into the ground enough that he could barely wiggle them. This only intensified the building butterflies that were swirling around George’s stomach, and a new wave of nervous giggles began pouring out of him before he could hold them back.

“S-Stop! You’re both being ridiculous!” George yelled at them both, not knowing if they were even listening over the two speaking to each other in hushed tones, careful to not let him hear what they were saying.

“Oh wait!” Sapnap exclaimed suddenly, pouncing up from the ground and sprinting towards the steps. “I need to grab…things!”

Dream shook his head slowly as he giggled, watching Sapnap use all fours to crawl up the steps quickly, as if he were an excited puppy going to fetch a toy. George watched Sapnap too, but kept his peripherals glued on Dream, carefully watching him to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything to catch him off guard. The two sat and listened to Sapnap rummaging through things upstairs, hearing the thud of his footsteps as he ran in and out of rooms to collect the items he was looking for. The longer it took, the more nervous George got.

“What is he even doing up there?” George mumbled quietly to himself, not expecting an answer from Dream. He was pleasantly surprised when the blonde spoke up.

“To be honest, I’m actually not sure. He didn’t tell me anything before he ran up the steps like a gremlin,” He chuckled, craning his neck to look back at George, temporarily releasing his ankles so he could shake them out if he needed to. “You doin’ okay back there?”

“Just dandy.” George replied flatly, fighting a smile when his wording made Dream giggle. He brought both hands up to card through his hair, attempting to settle his nerves, when he heard quick footsteps approaching closer. The two turned their attention to the upstairs hallway once more, watching as Sapnap appeared at the top of the steps, not even stopping to slow his momentum as he practically flew down the steps.

“Okay! I have my tool kit ready!” Sapnap spoke through his heavy breathing, winded from the speed he had been running around. George observed a black drawstring bag before it was quickly hidden from his view, letting out a sigh of relief when he noticed how empty it looked. He still had no clue what the two were planning, but he knew whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good.

“So change of plans,” He leaned to the side so George could see him once he knelt down onto the ground again, smirking wickedly as he spoke. “I couldn’t find anything that really screamed out ‘doctor’ to me-“

“Good.” George interrupted, earning a hard flick to the side of his right ankle before they were engulfed in large hands once more. Dream pushed them down with a little more pressure, leaning more of his weight into the hold to assure George wouldn’t budge.

“Buuuuut, I did find things to make us dentists!” He exclaimed happily, watching as George’s expression dropped and eyes widened.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” George let his head thump back against the carpet, bringing the heels of his hands up to rub harshly at his eyes when Sapnap snuck back around to hide in front of Dream.

“Nope! This is no joke, Georgie. We’re gonna help you face your fears!” Sapnap replied as he emptied the contents of the bag, a few things clanging together as he did so. George heard Dream gasp quietly and watched his shoulders scrunch up, seeing his bouncy curls move from side to side as Dream silently reprimanded the younger boy.

“What? What is it?!” George blurted out in a panic at Dream’s reaction, his stomach doing somersaults at all the possibilities of what Sapnap could’ve put in the so called “tool kit”.

“Nothing to be afraid of!” Dream quickly assured him, hearing the frantic tone of George’s voice and wanting to comfort him before his mind could run rampant.

“Well…” George heard Sapnap scoff quietly, sending his thoughts spiraling once again.

“Wh- HEY!” George squealed when he felt a finger flick the bottom of his socked foot, moving to pull it away. He felt a deep dread spread throughout his body when he realized that his feet wouldn’t budge at all, and panicked giggles began to flow from him before he was even touched again.

“Gosh, you are nervy, aren’t you, kitten?” Sapnap wondered out loud, tracing his pointer finger down both feet slowly to make George squirm. He applied more pressure as he traced back up to his toes, pinching each one lightly and smirking when George hollered out at the feeling.

“Plehease! Don’t do this!” He pleaded with the two, but was met with no response. George jolted his body upwards when Sapnap added a finger to each foot, now tracing up and down with two fingers and using more of his nails on the down strokes to make George’s laughter jump in pitch.

“It’s okay, we’re just helping!” Dream tried to comfort him through his squeals, giggling himself when Sapnap’s fingers traced under George’s toes, making him shriek. Just when it was starting to become bearable, his stomach dropped when he felt a finger dip into the top of each sock, slowly prying them off.

“NO! Nononono, no! Please! Plehehease don’t!” George begged, curling his toes to try and grip onto the fabric of his socks as they were pulled off at an agonizingly slow pace. He could feel the air hit his heels, then his arches, and finally over the pads of his feet. George panicked, sitting up and gripping onto Dream’s sides, kneading into them like his life depended on it.

“GEORGE!” Dream cried out, letting go of his ankles in favor of gripping George’s wrists, pulling them away from his body as he caught his breath from the sudden tickle attack. Sapnap appeared next to George, taking his wrists from Dream so he could go back to securing his ankles before he caused too much of a mess.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Naughty boy,” Sapnap shook his head in disappointment, pushing George’s hands against his own chest to make him fall back against the carpet before pressing them down against the ground on either side of his hips. “Dream, lift your shins for me, will you?” Dream looked back at Sapnap with slight confusion, leaning forward a bit more until he was able to angle his shins up off the ground. When Sapnap placed George’s hands directly under them, Dream suddenly understood. He dropped his legs quickly, making sure to sit back on his shins to keep George’s wrists secure.

“This isn’t fair! Stohohop!” George whined as Sapnap crawled back in front of his feet, disappearing behind Dream once again. “Come on! I told you, I’m not scared! We don’t have to dohoho this!” His pleas were ignored, and the plan continued.

“So what do we have here, mister dentist?” Dream asked Sapnap playfully, looking down at the tools displayed between George’s spread ankles.

“Well, first, let’s get a good look at these teeth!” Sapnap responded with the same amount of enthusiasm, quickly ripping off George’s socks and flinging them behind him somewhere across the room. George immediately curled his toes when he felt the air hit them, high pitched giggles bubbling out of him as he tried to control his reactions. He felt Sapnap pinch each one again, this time wiggling them as he went and making George squeak every time his nail scraped the pads of them.

“Plehehease! This is soho dumb!” George pulled at his arms, trying to yank them free, but Dream’s weight kept them pressed into the floor. Frustratingly, all he could really do was twist his upper body and move his head; not nearly enough give to expel any of his anxiety.

“Hm…seems like they’re in good shape. Could use a cleaning though.” He heard Dream comment, making his stomach flip as his brain tried to figure out what they could possibly do to him.

“Great idea, my beautiful assistant!” George could hear the smile in his voice, squeezing his eyes shut at how excited he sounded. Suddenly he heard a click, followed by a loud buzzing, and he immediately knew what it was. He curled his toes even tighter as he began spurting out pleas, saying anything to get their attention to make them stop. Sapnap peaked over Dream’s shoulder and gave George a wink before going back to work, bringing the toothbrush down closer to the practically immobile feet in front of him.

“The patient seems ready for the cleaning, so we’re going to proceed!”

George let out a blood curdling scream when a vibrating toothbrush touched down on both of his pinky toes, not expecting two of them at the same time and sending him into a frenzy. He squeezed his eyes shut as his head flung back, cackling as Sapnap moved the brushes over to the next toe on each foot. Despite curling them as hard as he could, Sapnap managed to wedge them under his toes anyway, making sure to get the tops and the bottoms of each toe as he went.

“FUHUCK, PLEHEASE!” George managed to cry out between his panic, shaking his head back and forth as he laughed himself silly. Sapnap didn’t respond, simply commenting on how clean his ‘teeth’ looked as he made his way over George’s middle toe on either foot. The toothbrushes moved to the second toes and George screeched, high pitched and loud, begging them to stop, to not go to his big toes, that he’d do anything they wanted as long as they left them alone. But to his dismay, Sapnap moved the dreaded toothbrushes over each big toe, swirling them in slow circles and sending George into hysterics.

“Holy shit.” Dream spoke lowly as he watched the torture Sapnap was forcing George to endure. Sapnap looked up at Dream and chuckled when he noticed the faint blush appearing on his cheeks, and Dream huffed in annoyance at the smirk he received in response.

“Almost done with the cleaning! Just a little more, I promise!” Sapnap peeked around Dream again, taking in George’s panicked thrashing and screams at the simple tickling on the tiny toes. He leaned back to sit on his shins as he turned the toothbrushes off, allowing George a moment to collect himself and steady his breathing.

“P-Plehehease…” George was delirious with laughter at this point, still in near hysterics even though the tickling had stopped. Sapnap rubbed his thumbs over the tingly toes, making sure to rub with enough pressure to help rub the ghost tickles away. Once George’s laughter had settled down to quiet giggles, Sapnap let his fingers wander, gently pressing them in the spaces between his toes. George let out a squawk at the feeling, and immediately he was begging again.

“NONONO nohoho! No more! Nohoho more!” George pleaded, trying to bend his knees under Dream to knock him off and whining through his laughter when he didn’t budge at all. He was yanking at his arms so hard he thought he might dislocate them, and he cursed both boys for keeping him down like this while they played with him like a doll.

“I’m just checking for cavities! Hold still!” Sapnap explained, using one hand to steady George’s left foot as he pushed his finger between each toe, twisting it as he did. George was beside himself with laughter, feeling tears well as Sapnap continued his search for whatever he was looking for. He finished with the left foot, skittering fingers over the top of it to make George squeal.

“Okay, that one looks great! Now we have to check the other one, and then we’re all done!” Sapnap reassured George, gripping the right foot the same way he did the left, shoving his finger between the last two toes and giggling when George let out a squeak in response. It went smoothly between the next two toes, and the next, until Sapnap shoved his finger between the first and second toes. He stopped twisting his fingers, and instead used both hands to spread them apart.

“STOP!” George shrieked out in embarrassment, knowing how intensely Sapnap and Dream must be looking at his foot right now. The two laughed at his outburst, but changed nothing about what they were doing.

“No can do, Georgie,” Sapnap pretended to speak with fake sympathy, sighing before he continued. “I’m afraid we’ve found a cavity.” The comment sent George into a further panic, now struggling even harder than before, nearly lifting Dream with the ticklish adrenaline that was coursing through him.

“What do we do for that, mister dentist?” Dream asked over George’s screaming, looking back briefly to see how hard he was blushing. He knew this kind of play always got to George, never knowing how to handle all the attention.

“Well, there’s really only one thing we can do,” Sapnap explained, rustling around with something that George couldn’t see. “We have to floss.”

“WHAT?!”

Before George could question any further, he felt Sapnap weaving something between all of the toes on his right foot, even between the toes that Sapnap deemed to be okay not even a moment before. The feeling of whatever the weird string was just sitting between them was enough to make George laugh even harder, not being used to having something in such a sensitive area. George was babbling out pleas but nothing was coherent. His words were slurred together through his laughter despite him trying to articulate the best he could. Sapnap and Dream only laughed at him before turning back to the task at hand.

“Don’t worry, patient! Your cavity will be fixed soon enough!” Dream called over his shoulder, not even sure if George was able to hear him, but deciding to continue playing his role anyway. George didn’t respond, not sure he was even able if he wanted. When he was finally getting used to the sensation, his whole body shook with ticklish electricity as the material started to move.

“NAHAHAHA!” George was full on screaming through his hysterics, taking in quick gulps of air as his lungs harshly pushed out laugh after laugh. He was lightheaded; so much so, it was as if he would float away. George continued to shake, squirming back and forth on the carpet at the overwhelming ticklish feeling. Sapnap continued to saw the material back and forth between his toes, laughing along at how insane George’s reactions were. Neither boy had ever heard George laugh this hard or loud, and they exchanged surprised glances every few seconds, especially whenever a new noise or high pitched squeak would present itself through the hysterics.

“Almost done, it’ll be over soon, George!” Dream assured him as he continued to struggle, his throat becoming more and more dry the harder he laughed. George eventually fell silent, only producing high pitched squeals and squeaks whenever he was able to get a full breath in. His face was burning, his cheeks bright red with tears covering them from how hard he was laughing. After a few seconds, the feeling finally stopped, and Sapnap quickly removed the tickly material from between George’s toes to finally relieve him of the torture.

“Plehehease!” George was unable to stop the word from tumbling out despite the tickling having stopped, completely out of his mind at the intense tickling feeling he just endured. Dream sat forward to free George’s wrists and moved his hands from George’s ankles to his feet, opting to rub over his toes as Sapnap began to put the items back into the bag. Dream continued to rub soothingly over both feet, making sure to help the ticklish feeling pass as quickly as it could.

“W-What…the fuhuhuck…was that?” George forced the question through his shallow breathing, bringing his hands up to rub his tear stained cheeks and free the stray tears that clung to his long eyelashes. He opened his eyes briefly when he felt something glide over his right hand, looking down to see Sapnap holding a long, white string.

“Shoelace!” He beamed, a huge smile spreading over his face as he showed George what he just tormented him with. George groaned through the left over giggles, covering his face in embarrassment as his mind replayed the last few minutes over and over again. Dream moved off of George’s waist, turning to face him before sitting by his side. He gently grabbed both of George’s wrists and gave them each a kiss before placing them in his lap, tracing over them to make sure they were okay after being restrained, and also from how hard George had been pulling at them.

“You okay, baby?” Dream asked softly, letting his hands run down over George’s forearms and back up to his wrists. George closed his eyes again, turning on his side and curling his body towards Dream’s, letting his forehead connect with his thigh before nodding slowly. The blonde moved one of his hands to scratch lightly over his bicep, letting the other run through his hair to help bring him back down to reality. Sapnap pulled the string of the bag tightly, closing it and slinging it over his shoulder, getting ready to stand up from his place opposite Dream, on the other side of George. But before he could, he felt a tight grip on his wrist, keeping him down on the ground with the other two. “So,” George began after finally getting his breathing under control, sitting up slowly and turning his attention to Sapnap. “When’s the last time you were at the dentist?”

#lee!george #ler!sapnap #ler!dream #hehe yaaaay this is ridiuclous but its fun!#very very silly behavior here #also i know george got a shot in his ass but we're gonna ignore that <3 #mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff #lee!GeorgeSummer

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thewinter-eden · 10 days ago

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psycho | han jisung (11/20)

11 : the pink door

Pairings: HAN JISUNG x OC | LEE MINHO x 2nd OC

Rating: mature

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and wattpad under alone-at-last.

Warnings: discussions of murder, torture, rape, pregnancy

psycho masterlist Comment a request to be tagged!

< last chapter | next chapter >

pov : minho

Minho: You’re scaring me, Cass.

Cass: I just don’t think we should put too much emphasis on all this trauma bonding. And besides, I really don’t want to be reading too much into a cop’s line of duty.

Minho: What do you mean by that?

Cass: I mean that you should stop saying you care about me.

Minho: But I do care about you?

Cass: You’re not very good at listening, are you?

Minho: Not when what I’m hearing doesn’t make any sense.

Cass: Sometimes I think there’s a chance that I really will get out of this place. And then I think of meeting you, and I just think that assuming we will be just like we are now is foolish.

Minho: That’s true. You’ll be free, for one thing, and I won’t be making death threats against a serial killer every day.

Cass: You really aren’t very good at listening.

Minho: I don’t understand.

Cass: How’s Santa doing these days?

Minho: He’s trying to figure out how to get a pumpkin pie down to you guys.

Cass: But Thanksgiving is in two months?

Minho: He’s giving himself plenty of time to figure it out.

Cass: Tell him he’s the biggest sweetheart.

Minho: I absolutely will not.

Minho: Tell me how you’re doing.

Cass: I’m not good today, Minho. I’m really not good today.

Minho: I’ll bring you anything you want. Just tell me.

Cass: There’s nothing you can bring that will help this, but thanks.

Minho: Anything you need, I’m here.

Cass: Just tell me about your classes? Your life?

Minho: I did actually fail another exam, but it’s still early so I’m not worried.

Minho: How are your cuts today?

Cass: Healing slowly, but Hannie is on top of them.

Minho: Good. At least someone down there takes care of you.

Cass: We take care of each other. All of us.

Minho: I imagine Anna’s not the only one to get attached to him with all the kindness he shows everybody.

Cass: That’s true. Especially among the younger girls. Jackie and Jo really rely on him. Before Anna really warmed up to him, I thought Heather had a thing for him.

Minho: But he and Anna are definitely close?

Cass: They’re close. I can’t say they’re involved, because some things have happened with Anna—as with all of us—that have warranted his special care here and there.

Minho: Will he be able to help Ruby? If it comes to that?

Cass: It probably will come to that. She’s due any time now.

Minho: But he’ll be able to help?

Cass: He’s done it before.

Cass: There’s a new girl today.

Minho: Tell me about her. I’ll report it to my supervisors.

Cass: Her name is Kara, she’s thirteen. She hasn’t told us anything else. That’s all Ruby and Kim have managed to get out of her.

Minho: I’m sure seeing Ruby like that isn’t exactly a comfort to her.

Cass: We haven’t told her how long Ruby’s been here yet. Too much too fast.

Minho: Can I ask you an invasive question?

Cass: It’s not like I have any remaining boundaries intact anyway. Ask away.

Minho: Never mind, I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is continue to violate your privacy.

Cass: Really, Minho, you can ask.

Minho: That’s alright. It doesn’t make a difference either way.

Cass: You wanted to ask if I’ll end up like Ruby.

Minho: I just want you to be okay. I want all of you to be okay. I’m worried about Ruby.

Cass: We are too, though Hannie has halved his meal portion to give to her. He’s doing everything he can to keep her healthy. And, of course, it’s possible that I end up like her, though at this point it’s hard to determine.

Minho: What makes you say that?

Cass: My cycle disappeared a few months ago. Either that or it’s too late. Hannie’s keeping an eye on me.

Cass: Jackie’s gone.

Minho: I’m so sorry.

Cass: I can’t do this anymore, Minho.

Minho: Neither can I. I’ll see you soon.

“But we’ve already considered this.” Seungmin follows Minho across the street and into their squad car. “If we go to the parents, we’ll be interfering with an FBI investigation, disobeying direct orders. We’ll never get jobs again, much less keeping our badges.”

Minho slammed his door behind him. “It’s been a year of sitting on our hands. It doesn’t matter if we go to jail—if we should be in jail for anything, it should be for allowing five girls to die while we do nothing. Ruby’s pregnant, Seungmin, do you really think she should be giving birth down there? And God knows what he’ll do with the baby.”

The rumble of the engine passes between them, and Seungmin says nothing. There’s a second where Minho doesn’t reach for the gear shift. “Look, I’ll do this alone if you’re unwilling. Just get out now, and you’ll have no part of it.”

His words seem to shock Seungmin out of pensive silence. The younger man shakes his head abruptly. “Don’t be stupid, obviously I’m in. I’m just warning you, when we’re forced to be roommates because neither one of us can afford the rent, I have a lot of clothes and I don’t wash dishes.”

“Remind me never to go to your apartment.”

“Captain Bang should still be out of town, at least until tomorrow. If we’re going to get parents’ contact information, now’s gonna be the best time. If Lieutenant Seo is there, I’ll get him out of the way.”

Minho backed the car out of the parking space. “We’ll divide and conquer with the parents. Hopefully they’ll organize and rain fire down on the department. With that kind of attention, there’s no way they’ll be able to keep looking the other way.”

“Not that forcing the FBI’s hand doesn’t sound like the best plan ever, but should we try talking to Bang again? You said five girls have died, so I’m assuming someone just passed?”

“Jackie. She didn’t pass, she was murdered. If they didn’t care about Lily, Sara, Erin, or Heather, they won’t care about Jackie. I’m done asking for permission.”

When they arrive at the precinct and make their way up to the bullpen, it’s nearly empty. It’s well into the evening, and most of the detectives have gone home already. Seungmin breaks off from Minho to do a cursory scan for Lieutenant Seo, while Minho heads straight for the open cases filing cabinet.

Checking again to ensure that he wasn’t being closely observed, he tugs open the familiar drawer that he’d visited every time he added a new missing persons poster or checked an old one to corroborate Cass’s information, and thumbs through the folders to find the one he’d allowed to grow too thick.

Seungmin returns to his side a few moments later, and follows him to an empty cubicle to let the file spill open. “Front desk says Seo has already gone home. We should be good.” He announces, pulling up a chair and bringing a small notebook out of his front pocket, clicking a pen in anticipating. “There’s twenty-two missing persons posters linked to this case, plus the new girl, who hasn’t been reported yet. Ten of the girls have been confirmed by Cass, twelve of them identified post mortem from the four dump sites.”

“With the five who died since initiating contact with Cass, that’s seventeen dead and six alive, plus Ruby’s unborn.” Minho agrees, sorting the missing persons posters and coroner’s reports into two piles. “Plus Han and Jeongin, though there aren’t any reports on them. Cass said they were abducted after Ruby. They must have been taken from Idaho. We might be able to get in touch with the Moscow police before Monday.”

They divide the profiles between them and take note of the families’ names, addresses, and phone numbers, quickly coming up with a rough script to give to the families, to keep their meetings consistent. Neither of them relish speaking with the families of the deceased, but they can’t discount them as both valuable voices and parties deserving of closure.

“Wait, Minho, look at this.” Seungmin lifts one of the profiles in his pile, eyes scanning it curiously. “Anna Park, the one who was taken right before we met Cass?”

Minho looks up. “Yeah? Be sure to tell her parents that she’s not completely alone down there. Any good news helps.”

“No, look.” Seungmin pushes the report across the desk. “Her parents are Rebecca and Frank Park. There’s a copy of a business license in here—they own The Pink Door.”

It’s enough to make the older officer drop the pages he’s filtering through on his side of the desk. “No way.” He snatches the documents and reads far enough to see that Seungmin’s right—the Park family own the nightclub that has reportedly undergone numerous investigations in relation to Cain Roberts’ whereabouts. “This is great.”

“It is? They could be harboring the guy. Most of our sightings reports come from people who hear screaming coming from around the nightclub. If they’re complicit, they’ll completely discount Anna’s disappearance—say she’s at boarding school in Europe or something—and that will cast doubt on all of the rest of them.” Seungmin scrubs a hand over his face and clicks his pen, this time anxiously.

“Or, if they’re not complicit, then we have their automatic compliance in locating the entrance to the tunnels.” Minho hands the pages back, heart hammering with excitement. He can’t help the bitterness he feels towards Bang, the FBI, the board—everyone—and their orders to abandon the case, not just because he’s been forced to leave the young women to rot for a year, but because it would have been so easy to just communicate with the families and launch the rescue of what would have been nine girls.

Instead, the FBI are presumably no closer to shutting down a worldwide domestic terrorism organization, and only six girls remain alive, one of them with child.

Seungmin reads the irritation on his partner’s face like it’s written in plain English and wordlessly reaches over to scoop all of the pages back to his side of the table. “You go talk to the Parks and find out if you can even find the tunnel entrance. We’ll go down there and yank them out ourselves if we have to. Plan B is the parents. I’ll go talk to them, see if I can get them to bring the heat down on the case.”

That plan is far more attractive to Minho, though he realizes that his partner now has to bring earth shattering news to not twelve families, but twenty-two, all by himself. “I can’t let you do that, I need to help you.”

“No, seriously, we should split up anyway.” Seungmin doesn’t relinquish the stack of profiles, rather pulling them even farther out of his partner’s reach. “If you run into trouble at the nightclub, then at plan B is still in effect.”

It takes no more convincing than that.

They go their separate ways, Seungmin moving to the precinct’s archive to start making phone calls, and Minho jumping back into their car and heading across town to The Pink Door. He’s practically buzzing with anticipation, liberating by the shrugging off of accountability to his supervisors, anxious about voluntarily forfeiting his career as a police officer, and terrified of failing without a chance to try again.

He shakes off the doubt.

It’s been a year.

A year.

A year that he’s listened to Captain Bang and Judge Seo and the board of commissioners and the head of the FBI, sitting on his hands and doing nothing but offering hollow platitudes to a girl whose been going through absolute hell while he goes to class and eats good meals and sleeps in a comfortable bed.

The guilt has been eating him alive.

Deciding to ignore his orders and blatantly defy authority is the first time he’s felt like he’s done the right thing since he first made contact with Cass.

It doesn’t matter that he’ll lose his job.

As a police officer, he allowed five helpless young girls to be murdered beneath his feet.

Operating by his own autonomy, God willing, he’ll bring six tortured young girls back into the light of day.

The nightclub is full swing when he strides through the doors in a simple suit that doesn’t scream cop. Live music plays in one half of the room, couples dancing on the floor. The other side of the room is cluttered with tables, servers cautiously picking their way through the festivities to provide food, and diners seated in clusters to enjoy the excitement of the venue.

Minho scans the room, catching sight of numerous doors and hallways that could lead anywhere, as well as a few staircases that head up to higher levels. He knows there are other, smaller auditoriums somewhere in the building, as well as private suites for the more important customers, not to mention the small hotel that takes up the second, third, and fourth floors.

As he tries to find any sign of an owner or office, the host approaches him with a beaming smile.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”

Minho puts on his most sociable smile and straightens his tie. “Actually, I’m here to speak to Fred Park. Is he here tonight?”

The host blinks at him. “You have an appointment with Mr. Park, sir?”

Already accepting the loss of his job, Minho flashes his badge briefly. “Let’s say I do.”

The host’s expression pinches, and he turns and glances at someone seated in the far corner. Minho follows his gaze and catches sight of two well-dressed men in a booth, nursing strong drinks, just before the host turns once more and blocks his view. “Of course, sir. Right this way.”

After leaving the front of the house to another server, the host heads primly for a set of stairs and doesn’t look back to see that Minho is following. He takes him up one floor and around the corner, through a locked door and then another.

In short time they’re standing before a set of double doors, which the host pushes open and stands back to allow Minho entrance.

When he steps into the room, he sees a small desk with an older woman seated behind it, eyeglasses resting perilously on the tip of her nose as she scribbles in a notebook with perfect posture. The room is warmly furnished with rich tones of red and brown, the floor thickly carpeted and a sofa placed against one wall, two arm chairs against another.

There’s a single door offset behind the woman’s desk, and Minho realizes he’s in the receiving area of someone’s office.

“Miss Johnson,” The host says, entering behind Minho. He stops and folds his hand before him.

The woman looks up abruptly, as though she hadn’t heard them come in. “Oh, Mr. Gibson.” She takes off her glasses and peers at Minho. “What is this?”

He doesn’t know if he should be offended or concerned about her vision.

Mr. Gibson gestures openly to Minho. “This nice officer has requested a meeting with Mr. Park. He is not expected.”

“I see.” Miss Johnson sniffs, and narrows her eyes at Minho. “Take a seat. I’ll let Mr. Park know. Who shall I say is here?” She points him to the sofa as the host takes his leave in silence.

Minho knows he can’t waste even a second of this opportunity, so he sits politely and throws the greying woman a smile. “Anna Park.” He realizes that if Fred Park and his wife are innocent of their daughter’s disappearance, that his choice of hook is an inappropriate and potentially cruel one, but he won’t be a police officer by tomorrow and he can’t take any chances.

Miss Johnson’s eyes snap wide open and her lips tighten across her teeth. She raps her knuckles sharply against the door behind her desk twice and then hurries inside without waiting to be invited.

Less than a moment later, the door opens again and a man steps into view, eyes immediately landing on Minho and examining him suspiciously. Miss Johnson ducks out from behind him and takes her seat once more at her desk.

When a minute passes in silence, she shoots Minho a glare.

Taking the hint, he gets to his feet and extends a hand to the man in the doorway. “Excuse my manners, Mr. Park, but it is of the utmost importance that I speak to you immediately.”

The man merely steps aside and waits for him to enter.

The office that Minho walks into is bright and spacious, a few pieces of furniture on one side of the desk for visitors to sit on and one uncomfortable looking chair on the other, which Fred Park goes to occupy without a word.

Withdrawing his ignored hand, Minho moves closer to the desk and sits. “It’s actually your daughter I need to speak to you about.”

The man’s brow lowers, and his jaw tightens. He watches Minho for another long moment. “It has been a year,” He finally starts. “Since I have heard anything about my daughter. I don’t appreciate you coming to my office and throwing her name around like it is of no consequence.”

“It is of the highest consequence.” Minho hurries to say. “And I do apologize for toying with your emotions in that way, but there is nothing about what I have come here to say that isn’t urgent.” He takes Fred Park’s silence as an indication to continue, so he launches into a brief and sensitive explanation of Anna’s whereabouts.

As he speaks, Fred Park’s expression grows darker and darker, until his eyes are blazing. “And why is it that you are the one to bring this information to me?”

For a moment, Minho’s speechless. “I’m sorry?”

“My daughter has been abducted by a serial killer that my government is choosing to enable, and I get a lowly street cop showing up in my office, whom I can only presume is fresh out of high school, wearing no uniform or rank whatsoever?”

It’s not the response Minho expected. “As I’ve said, my supervisors are unwilling to disclose any information about this case whatsoever. My partner and I have chosen to bring the news to the girls’ families without permission. No one ranking higher than myself would have come here in the first place.”

Fred Park rests his elbows on his desk with a pensive frown. “So you’re telling me that only your captain and his lieutenant have been made aware of any of this? No one else at the station is working this case?”

Minho’s confused now. Where were the questions? Where was the outrage? What kind of father could hear any part of his explanation and not ask how extensive his daughter’s injuries were, or even if she was okay? “The judge has placed a moratorium on the Cain Roberts case. It’s under FBI jurisdiction alone.”

Heaving a great sigh, Fred Park puts his palms down and rolls his shoulders. “Alright, then. What are you wanting from me?”

“From you, specifically, I want a tour of the lower levels of this building. I believe the entrance to the tunnels where they’re being kept is here somewhere, somewhere adjacent to the sewer system rather than connecting to it.”

“Oh,” Fred Park says simply. “I know what you’re talking about. I can show you.” He rises from his desk and gestures for Minho to follow him. “You know, it’s really brave what you’re doing for these girls. I respect your courage, Officer Lee. It’s a comfort to know that at least one person would be willing to stick his neck out for them. You’re a good man.”

None of this is going the way he thought it would.

Two sets of stairs and three winding hallways later, Minho is standing in the open doorway of a musty-smelling corridor. It’s a set of stairs leading down into darkness, and he can tell by the echoing street sounds in the distance that it’s the very tunnel entrance that he’s been searching for for a year.

“I bet this is what you mean.” Fred Park says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Minho can’t believe his luck—but on the other hand, he can’t believe his luck. “Yeah, you know, I bet you’re right. If I can use your phone before I take a look around, I’d like to let my partner know I’ve found it.”

The look he finds on Fred’s face is eerie. The older man is watching him with open curiosity, an empty smile curving his lips up. As Minho meets his eyes, his shoulders bob like he’s just remembered that he’s the one who’s supposed to respond. “Oh, sure, there’s a phone upstairs in the pantry.

Stomach twisting at the inappropriate nonchalance displayed by this alleged grieving father, Minho moves as far out of his reach as he discreetly can. “Alright, thank you. I’ll just get some backup down here and we’ll discuss next steps. Thank you again.”

“Oh, sure, sure.” Fred Park smiles, and invites Minho to lead the way back up the stairs.

Every hair on the young officer’s neck is standing on end. He turns and heads up, muscles bunching with anxiety.

A hand like a vice on the back of his neck stops him.

Before he can react, he’s yanked backwards down the stairs, his feet flying out from under him. He doesn’t feel the impact of his head on the cement floor, but his vision is full of Fred Park’s empty smile as the darkness creeps in.

#skz #stray kids #horror #fanfic #han jisung #skz x oc #han jisung x oc #lee know x oc #lee know #han x oc #minho #minho x oc #psycho han jisung

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lifblogs · 3 months ago

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To Break

@ailesswhumptober Day 1 Public Torture/Public Use, Stress Position, "If you cry we'll go easy on you."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Mature Word Count: 5451 Summary: Hunter has been captured by the Empire, and they attempt a public interrogation to get him to share where Omega is. The rest of his squad, knowing this is a trap, decides to attempt a rescue mission. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Echo had a hard set to his jaw as he filed through the intel that had just come in from Rex. It was… hopeful, but still wasn’t good.

He closed his eyes, letting out a long exhale through his nose.

There was no way around this—he had to tell them.

Echo stood, ignoring the slight ache where his legs used to be, and headed towards the bunks. Tech was on his datapad, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and Wrecker was resting on Gonky, not doing anything, listless.

“Any news from Rex?” Tech asked.

Echo leaned against the bulkhead, and crossed his arms.

“Yeah. It’s something, but it has me worried.”

“Well, what is it?” Wrecker asked, straightening.

“The Empire plans to publicly torture Hunter.”

“What?” Wrecker exclaimed.

“Where?” Tech asked.

“Anaxes,” Echo supplied.

“Hmm. An odd choice,” Tech said. “But ironic.”

“Probably trying to throw us off their scent,” Wrecker put in. “Keep us guessing about where any of their actual bases are.

“Crosshair’s there—at Anaxes,” Echo added.

Wrecker banged his head against Gonky.

Gonk!

Tech finally looked up. “Well, that complicates things.”

“So, are we going?” Wrecker asked. “What do we do?”

For a moment the three of them were silent. Ever since Hunter’s capture things had been… odd. No one was really sure who should lead, who should talk first, what ideas should be shared. And without Omega…

Echo was thankful they’d gotten her into hiding like Hunter had planned if this ever happened, but he still worried. She wasn’t alone, which was good, but what if being with Cut and his family wasn’t safe enough, wasn’t far enough away from the evil that ruled the galaxy?

“This is clearly a trap,” Tech said.

“Pfft, I know that,” Wrecker replied. “But it’s Hunter. We can’t leave him. They’ll probably try to get information on Omega, and what if—”

“Hunter would never break,” Tech said.

Echo looked away, trying to pay attention to a scratch just beside him on the bulkhead, wondering how it had gotten there, how long it had been there. It was better than…

Pain blinded him, so intense his brain seemed to short out.

In a second he was back on the Marauder, not… there. Not with the Separatists.

“You’d be surprised at how easy it is to crack,” Echo told them.

Tech’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.”

“For what it’s worth,” Wrecker said to Echo, “you’re one of the bravest soldiers I know.”

Echo nodded, and tried to plaster a small smile on his face, anything to not show the dark memories that haunted him and lay just behind his eyes.

“Then if we take into account that Hunter could break and give them information on Omega, we have to go. It’s worth the risk.”

“What if we all get captured?” Wrecker asked.

Echo couldn’t help but think of the electro capsules that were drilled into the shadow troopers’ teeth. They’d come in handy here. Anything to protect Omega.

Tech looked at Echo, a shadow seeming to fall over his face, clearly considering the same thing.

“We’ll think of something,” Tech said, not voicing the dark plan they might need to fall back on. He stood, clipping his datapad on his belt. “I’ll set our course. Echo, how soon is this happening?”

“In two standard rotations.”

“Not a lot of time,” Tech mused. He rushed to the cockpit. “I’ll get us underway.”

~~~~~

Hunter didn’t know where he was. During all his transfers he’d been either drugged, blindfolded, or both. They even put wax in his ears. The drugs managed to dull his sense of smell, his touch. But they couldn’t touch the part of him that could feel electromagnetic frequencies. However, he wasn’t sure that was much help. All he knew was that he was in a base, and he could picture its shape, that it was almost like a giant cave. Something in the air against his face as he’d been transferred to his durasteel cell had felt familiar. He couldn’t quite place it.

Now, Hunter was in his cell, hunched over, head ringing, stomach roiling. The drugs tended to make him feel sick. He was being offered ration bars, but he hadn’t been able to keep a single one down. His body had stopped giving him hunger signals two rotations ago. They’d probably come raging back in full force if he was held captive in this cell long enough, his body telling him he would die, and begging him not to.

They gave him water, but Hunter could only drink it in small sips. Yet he managed to slowly drain every canteen, so at least there was that.

Currently he couldn’t even think about water without feeling more sick.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a groan leaving him. His cell seemed to close in around him, walls wavering.

There were familiar footsteps, coming closer, getting louder, the cadence suggested the booted feet belonged to long, lean legs. And more than that, a familiar scent hit Hunter.

A headache started up behind his eyes, his heart thudded too hard in his chest.

Just great.

The man who now stood across from him leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, sighing.

“You know, if you give up the location of the girl now, we won’t have to go through with your scheduled public torture.”

Hunter looked up, meeting Crosshair’s hard, cold eyes. Those eyes used to feel familiar, but now they were foreign, confusing.

“Give it a rest,” Hunter said. “You know I won’t talk.”

Crosshair shrugged. “Getting you to talk isn’t my job. That’s someone else’s problem.”

“You sure of that?” Hunter asked, knowing the Empire was cruel, and could change plans to make things worse in a second. They could request that Crosshair torture him. And even if he didn’t, he was his guard whenever he was moved from his cell. He’d have to see everything. Could Crosshair really do that? Was he that cold?

“Pfft. I’m just glad there’s one less defective freak running around, upsetting the order of things.”

Hunter huffed out a harsh laugh. “Well, from one defective freak to another…” He hardened his tone, his gaze. “How do you know the Empire won’t turn on you?”

“They would never—”

“Wouldn’t they?” Hunter hung his head, shaking it (and then regretting his actions because his body almost hurled up the bit of water he’d managed to drink). “Why are you here, Crosshair?”

“I’ve been ordered—”

“Yeah, you get to have the honor of guarding me during my big event. But why now? You’re not a grunt, or a reg. You’re special ops. They’re wasting you on guard duty.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you fail.”

Hunter looked up, knowing his facial hair was growing out, that there were bags and dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, that he was pale, shaky, sweaty, his hair unkempt and oily.

“Get a good look then.”

In truth, Hunter wasn’t despairing. He didn’t care about himself, his safety. He cared about Omega, and if all had gone according to plan she would be safe. That was all that mattered. Hunter himself? He was a soldier, a… a father. He’d gladly suffer more than this if it kept his daughter safe.

“You’re pathetic,” Crosshair eventually said.

Hunter had a snarky reply, but it was one of brotherhood. And they were not brothers anymore. This was his enemy. That still speared his chest and infected his gut, filled him with guilt, and regret, and anger, and hurt. If Hunter let it show, he’d lose. The Empire would see, Crosshair would see, and they’d use it against him. There was already a chance that they might.

Pretending to be nonchalant, and that he didn’t feel like a wrung out wet rag, Hunter laid back on his hard bunk, arms behind his head, legs crossed. A faux-contented sigh left him.

“See you at the big torture event,” Hunter said.

Crosshair scoffed, seeming like he would say something, but then thought better of it and left.

Fear coiled tightly in Hunter’s gut, reaching out, and tightening his limbs till he nearly ached.

A tremor ran through him—fear, or the drugs, he didn’t know.

Sure, he’d been roughed up while captured, and during transport, and was sporting bruises along his ribs, and one along his jaw, but that wasn’t torture. Not yet. He wondered what they would do to him, if it would be standard electrocution, or something more creative.

Fear already had him seeing himself awash in blood.

~~~~~

Hunter had been stripped down to just his trousers. The way they hugged his body had never bothered him before, but as Crosshair escorted him past ranks of stormtroopers and officers, he was suddenly aware of how much of himself was on display. It felt like nearly all of him was there for them to gawk at, or to have access to, to hurt. He had been right about the bruises along his ribs. They were black and purple, some faint blue towards the center of them. He didn’t think his ribs were cracked though. Not yet.

His wrists were in binders, and he wondered what the point even was. With the amount of stormtroopers here he’d be nuts to try and escape. There wasn’t a good opening for it.

A wide double door opened, and Crosshair shoved him through. Hunter let out a surprised grunt, but kept his balance.

He had been led out to what looked like an airfield, now modified with a stage just for him.

“Wow, you went through all this trouble for me?” Hunter asked. “I feel so special.”

The cold butt of Crosshair’s rifle dug into his back.

“Shut up.”

The airfield led out to a dark landscape that he recognized. Anaxes.

“Why Anaxes?” he questioned as Crosshair led him up to the stage.

“I told you to keep quiet.”

Hunter felt like he was going to be sick as he realized there were tools on the stage, devices. The pain he felt in his gut was so severe it suddenly became difficult to put one foot in front of the other.

You’re doing this for Omega.

A durasteel contraption was in the middle of the stage, and he tried to ignore the jeers of the stormtroopers witnessing this.

The next part happened so fast, that he didn’t make much sense of all the ways Crosshair shoved and manhandled him. He just knew his discomfort in his body grew and grew.

By the time Hunter was trussed up with various binders, he was standing on his tiptoes—if standing it was—feet pressing back against the contraption, and he was leaning forward till his knees bent, so far forward he would have fallen if not for his arms being stretched out behind him, and bound, leaving him hanging there. The position hurt, and he knew that hurt would only grow worse.

An Imperial he had never seen before approached the stage. He had a black glove on his left hand, piercing blue eyes that were too bright, and he shared a similar hairstyle with Captain Howzer, though his black hair was slicked back more. He was massaging his left hand as he ascended the steps.

Hunter zoned out, already panting, thinking of nothing but his straining muscles and stretching tendons, the sweat already going down his face as this man addressed the audience, listing various crimes Hunter had committed against the Empire. The audience probably consisted of a couple hundred stormtroopers with various officers.

When the man was done he turned to Hunter, hands clasped behind his back. He leaned in.

“CT-9901,” he addressed him, voice breathy, almost sensual, “I am going to ask you where Omega is, and you are going to tell me.”

“As far as threats go,” Hunter panted out. “I’ve heard worse.”

He grabbed Hunter’s chin with his gloved hand, and he tried to pull away, but it put an awful strain on his neck, his shoulders, his shoulder blades. His body shook slightly, and he couldn’t move as this man touched him.

“Oh, you are mistaken, CT-9901. That was a promise. I’ve broken men before. I know where to apply pressure.”

“Go ahead and do it.”

“You’re going to regret those words.”

He released him, and he nodded at some others who had approached the stage, wearing white lab coats. “Let’s begin.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow as one woman approached with… a razor?

“CT-9904, take his bandana off,” the head Imperial breathed.

Crosshair paused.

“Pardon… Doctor?”

“I gave you an order. Would you like to be trussed up next to CT-9901?”

Crosshair came forward and ripped off Hunter’s bandana, and for some reason something in his chest broke. Crosshair didn’t look at him, purposefully turning his head away.

Hunter growled as the young man with the razor approached.

“Hold him steady.”

Crosshair grabbed his face in an unrelenting grip, and Hunter squeezed his eyes shut as that thing in his chest broke even more.

~~~~~

A fierce cry rent the air, and Echo winced. He wasn’t sure if Hunter was being hurt quite yet, or if he was trying to fight the dehumanizing act of them shaving his head. Echo could understand. Hair was important to clones, especially with Hunter, and now…

His heart felt like it was getting squeezed, like he could barely live, barely breathe.

He carefully crawled a few meters back down the cliff, into cover.

“Tech, have you found any other entrances to this base?”

Echo hadn’t spotted any, but the crowd of armed stormtroopers was going to present a huge problem.

“My scans indicate there are several, including the airfield. I believe the western side entrance will be the least heavily guarded.”

Echo peeked again, poking his head up. His heart ached as Hunter’s dark hair fell away, onto the stage.

“Is that route close to Hunter?”

Crosshair stood by Hunter, rifle abandoned for now, something red in his hand that he kept staring at.

When Echo checked through his binocs, he saw what it was: Hunter’s bandana.

“Not exactly, no.”

His stomach turned as he saw someone with a glove on his left hand grab what looked like a drill.

He crawled back. “I don’t care that there are two-hundred troopers down there. I’m going for the airfield.”

“Echo, I deem that unwise.”

“They have a drill!” Echo cried through comms.

“I’ll bomb the airfield,” Wrecker suggested. “I won’t hit Hunter. I just need to distract them.”

A chocked scream sounded, and Echo closed his eyes, shaking.

They must have all heard it because Tech said, “I have a better idea. This calls for drastic action. We’ll all fly in on the Marauder, I’ll fire into the stormtroopers with the forward canons. Wrecker, Echo, you get out there, grab Hunter, and we’ll get him back in the Marauder.”

“And Crosshair?” Wrecker asked.

“Leave him,” Tech said. “Only fight him if necessary.”

Echo let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, it looks kinda necessary.”

He slid down the hill, faster than usual thanks to the glass-like terrain, and hit the ground running, the bit of cushioning in his armor absorbing the impact as well as it could. Still, an ache went into his torso. He ignored it, and started running for the Marauder, heart pumping hard to the sounds of Hunter’s screams.

~~~~~

Blood splattered the stage, the doctor (who Hunter had learned was named Hemlock), and himself. It was clogging in his left ear, burning his eye.

His entire body was shuddering, and rough groaning noises were leaving him. He could barely breathe, wasn’t sure how he was still alive. Hunter had been injured on missions before, but had never felt anything like this. The pain was sharp, sore, acute, an ache so fierce he thought it was going to kill him.

His strained body juddered as he tried to move away, tried to leave that pain behind. His shoulders were wrenched back, and he swore something popped. Maybe there was a snap.

The agony had him leaning forward, head hanging down. This only pulled at those new injuries more. It took everything in Hunter to keep breathing.

Hemlock didn’t ask him where Omega was.

Hunter wasn’t sure what he’d respond with if he was asked, and that terrified him.

“Hmm… how many ports do you think he will need to talk, CT-9904?”

Crosshair stiffened.

“O-one, sir.”

“Really? Would just one make you talk?”

“I… I don’t know. Sir.”

“Then do your job, so we don’t have to find out. Hold him steady.”

Hunter sobbed as Crosshair’s hands were on him again, lithe fingers used to pulling triggers and holding a heavy rifle steady and unflinching in their grip.

“Please, please, please, please, please…” Hunter begged, murmuring the word over and over again. “Just please stop. Stop.”

“Where’s Omega?” Crosshair asked, even though it didn’t seem his place to do so.

The whir of the drill started up, and Hunter wanted to die.

“No, no, no.”

He couldn’t break. He couldn’t. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, but oh stars, oh kriff…

The drill touched his head, and Crosshair held him steady as he tried to wrench it away, held him steady as blood poured from the wound, held him steady at the grinding of bone.

Hunter’s whole body was shaking. He couldn’t make sense of his surroundings, of who was touching him, and who was hurting him.

He just wanted it to stop. Please, just stop.

The drill ended its work, and Hunter’s vision was tunneling, the world too bright, yet going dark all at once.

A horrible groaning noise left him, spit dribbling out, as something poked into one of the holes. The other was soon given the same treatment.

When Hunter opened his eyes that Imperial—right, Dr. Hemlock—was holding his head.

“Crosshair,” Hunter murmured. “Where’s Crosshair?”

Hemlock ignored his words. “Now, you are going to tell me where Omega is. Or I can send electrical currents through those little wires I put in your head.”

Hunter thought he was going to be sick.

Omega, he thought. Omega.

He tried to keep his knowledge of her whereabouts from popping into his brain, but of course, that was impossible since Hemlock had mentioned her.

“Omega,” he murmured.

Hemlock squeezed his jaw in a brutal grip when he wasn’t forthcoming.

“Yes?”

Please, please… Omega.

“Omega,” he murmured again.

“Pathetic,” Hemlock said, sounding disgusted.

A cautious voice sounded to Hunter’s right: “I think, sir, he might have been pushed too far.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He released him, and then said to someone else, “Let’s begin. Twenty milli-amps.”

Then Hunter couldn’t breathe, his heart beat erratically, his body was spasming, and his head, oh kriff, his head. It was being stabbed and burned. Hunter bit his tongue, hot blood filling his mouth, and his shoulders were wrenched even worse than before. His legs ached and burned from trying to move while stuck in this awful, straining position.

Hunter wasn’t sure when the shock ended, but now he was breathing, and then he was screaming.

There must have been some communication Hunter missed because suddenly the butt of Crosshair’s rifle slammed into his diaphragm, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound, body struggling to regain its air.

“Shut it,” Crosshair hissed.

A low groan left Hunter as Hemlock gripped his face again.

“CT-9901, where is Omega?”

“She’s… No, what are you doing?” Those last words were to himself. He hadn’t meant to say them out loud. “Omega.”

“Yes?”

Hunter spit blood into Hemlock’s eye.

He couldn’t laugh as he jumped back, rubbing at his eye, and cursing. Any laughter would have been stolen from him anyway as the shocks started again.

Blasts tore through the airfield, durasteel ripping apart, fire blooming and bursting in the air, ruined bodies flying.

The electric current wasn’t turned off. In fact, as he saw people rushing around amongst the chaos, he thought he might have been forgotten.

Troopers grabbed their blasters, and a familiar ship was hovering in Hunter’s line of vision.

The electric current was finally shut down. Hunter managed to tilt his head, and he saw Crosshair at the machine. For a second Hunter’s frightened mind thought he was going to hurt him again, but no, no… He was the one who had turned it off.

Crosshair gave him a nod.

It took everything in Hunter to not pass out as his breathing and heart rate attempted to regulate. He didn’t know where to look: at the blood that had dripped down onto the stage, the wires trailing from his head, the troopers firing at his brothers, Crosshair…

A bright blast seemed to sear his mind, the force of it pressing against his worn and abused body. Everything went black for a few seconds.

~~~~~

Echo was off the Marauder before they’d fully landed. A stormtrooper came at him, and he fired right at their head. They went down, but that still left under two-hundred to contend with.

He had taken note of the Imperial who had been on the stage, most likely questioning Hunter, but he had slipped away in the chaos.

The red anger that almost clouded Echo’s vision nearly had him go searching for him, taking Hunter’s revenge for himself. But no, he had to get to Hunter.

Everything became a blur of quick breaths, his pounding heart, and bodies going down wherever he was met on the field. Echo either killed or incapacitated them with bolts from his blaster, and for the ones who got too close, he drilled into their necks with his scomp.

Wrecker slammed a path right through to the stage, as Tech guarded the entrance to the Marauder, shooting anyone who tried to board.

Echo rushed through the temporary corridor in the fighting that Wrecker had created. The steps to the stage were blocked, and he couldn’t get enough momentum to make the jump upwards.

Suddenly, a hand reached down.

Echo looked up.

Crosshair.

His gaze flashed to Hunter, who was bleeding, and sobbing, eyes unfocused, and Echo thought he was going to throw up because those things sticking out of his head, those were wires.

He needed Echo’s help, and Echo had to get to him first.

Crosshair would have to do.

He took his hand, and scrambled up, Crosshair grunting at his weight as he pulled.

“Those legs of yours are heavy,” he commented.

Echo punched him in the face as an answer, putting his entire body into it.

There had been so much momentum behind it that it knocked Crosshair down, who lay groaning, helmet knocked off.

Echo rushed over to Hunter. Hunter started screaming, and thrashing as Echo started undoing his bindings.

“It’s me!” Echo cried to him. “It’s me. It’s Echo.”

Hunter’s bleary, reddened eyes traveled to look at his armor, his helmet.

“Echo.”

He collapsed against him as Echo undid the final binding.

“Hunter, I’m going to have to take those wires out of your head now,” Echo said.

Hunter’s grip on him was surprisingly strong as he lay there, starting to beg.

“No, no, no, no. Don’t— No, don’t do it. Don’t touch me.”

Echo wanted to console him, but there was no time, and he wasn’t sure any bit of consoling would help until he was detached from that machine.

Echo felt a wire get tugged from his own aching head as he did so with Hunter. Hunter convulsed on him for a few seconds, and then something wet came out of his mouth. Blood, and vomit. He didn’t care, didn’t care at all that Hunter had gotten sick in his lap. He just needed to help him.

He blinked tears out of his eyes as he pulled the other wire free, grunting as he felt it in his own head, like he was still on Skako Minor, still just a piece of property to be tortured until he gave up what they wanted.

Hunter stilled, and for a second Echo thought he was dead. He checked his pulse. It was thready, but still there. He tried lifting him, but he was dead weight. And his head wouldn’t stop bleeding.

Echo was about to call that he needed help, but Crosshair was already there, wrapping Hunter’s bandana tight over the wounds, and then helping Echo get him to his feet, sharing in some of Hunter’s weight.

“Why are you helping us?” Echo asked him.

Suddenly the sniper’s sidearm seemed to be aimed at his head.

Echo’s heart leaped into his throat.

Crosshair fired.

And the blast went past him, to a stormtrooper who had mounted the steps on Echo’s side. Their body dropped, a smoking hole in their head.

“Come on,” Crosshair said, thoroughly ignoring Echo’s question.

Echo bit back a retort, so many different emotions warring inside, and carried Hunter down the stage.

A trooper got too close, and they learned how deadly Echo’s bloodied scomp was.

There was no adrenaline rush from the blaster fire and fighting bodies that surrounded him. He was trained so well, had been in so many battles, that his body knew how useless an adrenaline rush was. He possessed the ability to take in the details of the fight, and was able to move without much thought.

Wrecker had cleared a circle around him, and troopers were getting scared to approach him, trying to fire at him from a distance. Wrecker just used the bodies of troopers who had fallen as shields. The excitement of battle had taken him, and he was yelling, challenging his enemies.

And yet Wrecker quieted and stepped out of his fighting stance as soon he saw Echo and Crosshair hauling Hunter.

“Sarge!” he cried.

In a flash, Wrecker was over to them.

“I’ll take him from here.”

Echo nodded his thanks, breathing hard. Wrecker put Hunter over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. Echo had his back as they rushed back to the Marauder.

“Tech, get ready to go!”

Tech fired one more blast, and hurried inside. Echo guarded their exit, and was the last one on board.

Before he could ask Crosshair what his plan was, what was going on, if he was coming with them, the blasts renewed their intensity, troopers knowing they were losing their prisoner, and losing high value targets. Echo ducked under some blasts, but couldn’t move in time to keep his left leg from getting damaged.

He luckily didn’t feel pain in his mechno-legs, but the damaged joint of his knee still buckled, and he almost collapsed. Crosshair turned, and fired at the troopers as Echo tried to haul himself inside.

There was yelling inside the ship, about the state Hunter was in, and Echo was anxious to get to him.

Tech took off right as Echo dragged himself in, looking down at Crosshair as he defended their escape.

Echo couldn’t yell that they had to go back for him. There was no time, Hunter was badly wounded…

Yet his heart tore. Crosshair. He had helped them.

“Echo, take over flying!” Tech called.

Echo hauled himself up, and limped over to the pilot’s seat.

“Wrecker, get to the gunner’s mount,” Echo said, seeing Imperial ships take to the air. “We’ve got company.”

“But Hunter.”

“I will care for him,” Tech assured.

~~~~~

Every rock of the Marauder, every tilt, every turn, any bit of motion, had Hunter gritting his teeth in pain. He was clenching his jaw so tightly that cold zings of agony shot though his teeth and into the jaw, his cheeks, into the wounds in his head.

Hunter grabbed Tech, and sobbed against his abdomen. His whole body hurt, any bit of motion too much, and he felt cold, and not like himself. They’d watched. They’d watched him lose himself, watched his identity be torn from him, had jeered at his pain, his exposed body.

Hunter wondered if he kept his eyes closed if he’d stop seeing it, stop feeling the cold all along his body like a million eyes watched him.

He cried out as Tech injected something into his arm.

“For the bleeding,” he told him.

Then he moved Hunter as gently as he could, trying to get him off of him, but Hunter refused to let go of his thigh.

He couldn’t be alone, couldn’t—couldn’t handle this, any of this.

Blasts rocked the Marauder, and Hunter screamed.

“You might want to strap in!” Echo cried.

Tech cursed quietly, and hauled Hunter up, each touch, each motion bringing more pain.

Tech got him in a seat, and got the safety bars over him, and Hunter tried to hold on, but his fingers were weak and shaky, and his shoulders were screaming with each movement. Maybe Tech noticed because he stood in front of him, holding him steady even as he had to constantly shift to stay balanced.

After a chase and aerial fight that made Hunter black out twice, they were in hyperspace. When Hunter was released from his seat, he collapsed against Tech.

“Wrecker, I need you,” Tech called.

“On it.”

Wrecker was there faster than Hunter anticipated.

“What do you need?”

“Hold him down.”

Hunter started begging as he was shifted into Wrecker’s arms, and as his brother held him down, he didn’t care about the injuries to his shoulders, the strains his muscles had suffered from, he began to claw, and thrash. Begging, begging…

He couldn’t take it anymore. Why did no one understand that he couldn’t take it, that he just wanted it to stop?

“Please, make it stop. Make it stop. Don’t do this to me.”

He didn’t even know what Tech was going to do.

But when he saw him come in his line of vision with rolled gauze covered in bacta he started shaking so fiercely he thought he would break apart.

“Hold his head.”

“No, no, no…” he pleaded, scratching at Wrecker’s armor, and then screaming as he held his head, and kept his wounds exposed.

He kicked Tech quite soundly in the diaphragm as he came near, breath leaving him with an oof!

“Echo!” Tech called.

Echo limped over, and just sat down on Hunter, the full weight of him keeping his legs steady.

“It’s okay,” Echo lied to him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t know where Omega is,” Hunter lied. “Please, I don’t know where she is. I don’t know. I don’t know!”

He wasn’t sure where he was, who was holding him, but he knew he couldn’t give up his daughter.

“Please, please! I don’t know!”

The gauze was pressed into one of his wounds, and then the other. Quick, and efficient. It sent an aching throb throughout his entire head, and he sobbed.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, shaking, as Wrecker held him up, Tech bandaging his head.

“Please.”

“It’s okay, Hunter,” Tech told him. “It’s us. You’re safe. Omega’s safe. I presume. Did you…?”

Echo smacked his arm. “Listen to him. Do you really think he talked?”

Tech adjusted his goggles. “Well, we need to know for certain.”

Wrecker’s tight grip turned into a hug, and a reassuring pat.

“I didn’t… I didn’t say anything,” Hunter responded.

With a shaking hand, right shoulder aching and begging him not to move, Hunter felt gingerly at his head. Not the injured side, but the rest of it.

“My… hair,” he breathed.

Echo squeezed his thigh.

“I know.”

“M-my head.”

“I know. You’re gonna be okay, Hunter.”

He almost laughed at how utterly ridiculous that sounded. Then he did. That was laughter leaving him, even as tears streamed down his cheeks. Tech started on cleaning the blood from his face.

“How do you know that?” he asked Echo.

“Because I am,” he answered.

Hunter looked at him, at his head that refused to grow hair, damaged from chemicals, at the closed up ports they hadn’t been able to remove.

Hunter met his golden eyes, eyes that had once been brown like his. “How?”

Echo shrugged. “I have all of you.”

The sentiment rang hollow in Hunter’s chest.

“How about we go get Omega?” Wrecker suggested.

“I don’t think it’s safe yet,” Tech said. “They’ll be looking for us, and for her with redoubled efforts.”

“No,” Hunter said. “I… I don’t want her to see me… like this.”

As he shivered, wishing he had some clothes, or a blanket, feeling too exposed, Hunter wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to look at him ever again. But what was there to look at? He didn’t even look like himself. Would he again? Would Hunter ever recognize himself again?

He hadn’t talked, but perhaps he’d been broken all the same.

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