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nothisis-ridiculous · 4 years ago

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Take Me Home Now: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: I Hear Her Voice in the Mornin' Hour

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Shepard," the cold voice greeted her, the mechanic gravel unneeding of the visive tone, "or is it the fragment of your former self?"

Jane's head craned slowly, letting her eyes rake over the colossal figure of the derelict Reaper that sat before her. Should she be trembling? Why was she trembling?

"Brave words, for a dead roach," she murmured, wavering in her conviction.

"Your victory accomplished our end goal; your struggle was in vain."

Jane looked away from the synthetic, training her vision on the open sky above her. Lifting a hand above her face to shield it from the afternoon sun. The Citadel was a stark presence in the sky. It was a thing of awe. Now it was a wreck. While four of the arms remained, it wasn't without severe damage to the remaining limbs. The bright center of civilization flickered, struggling to sustain itself after the attacks that likely left millions dead. With the detonation she caused.

"Was the price to defeat your salvation truly worth it? You may think your species achieved enlightenment, but will it last to see those vain promises through?" The Reaper grew louder, a hint of yellow reflecting across the glass-like surface of the optic lenses, "In your hubris, you have destroyed everything that kept your species together! Witness the Citadel! How many died for nothing? How many more will die from starvation? Disease? Eachother? Will you watch your peace crumble?"

Trying to block out the voice, she focused on the rations half-eaten in front of her. Another task she no longer took pleasure from, another waste. Feeling this heaviness was quickly becoming unbearable; she was a beacon for passion and fire. A goddamned, fucking hero. One with a will that ignited others, not a tired soldier that snuck away to avoid eating a full meal. Not someone questioning why they remained. The goddamned bit was right, at least, there was no luck here. Just beating after beating.

She was so alone.

Where were her friends? How long would she have to wait? After all they had been through, wouldn't they at least attempt to find her? She wasn't far from where she had made them leave her behind. Already, she had been back to the beacon several times over the fortnight since the LT had conscripted her into this ragtag community.

She needed the Normandy crew. Her mind whispered horrible things. Taunted and dogged her in each agonizing moment of calm. All she held was death, screaming, the weight of all the choices she made. Her soft place was nowhere to be found.

"This legacy you attempted will end in the spoiling of your name. Villanhood only matched by the word 'Reaper,'" The machine was rarely silent long, it was content to keep speaking filling the silence that Jane left, "a Shepard only heralding death and destruction, because your weakness was what you thought strength. Overconfidence always leads to downfall."

In a simmer of sudden rage, Jane gathered energy into herself, merging the familiar burn and tingle of dark matter and letting it stir just beneath the surface of her skin, pleasure, fury, and a twinge of pain. Just the way it should be. It released in a single burst.

"Pathetic."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The Recruit caught herself before she toppled ass over tea kettle, fists grinding into the ground before her to stabilize. Her signature move from cocky grin to a deadened expression had yet to sit right with him, but as he was learning about his woman, forcing an issue wasn't going to move it aside any quicker. Reflexively adverting his gaze to allow her pride the room to readjust and soothe her attitude. Most in his company did not understand his patience with the newest recruit, but they couldn't empathize with the bittersweet familiarity it welled up inside his heart.

With any luck, he could one day reiterate to his son how proud he was of him.

"LT," the woman chirped, a hint of a smile crawling up the side of her mouth.

"Recruit," the old man was looser with his smile. With an admonishing raise of an eyebrow, he drew a finger across her philtrum, "I see you've met our lawn gnome. Still haven't named him yet."

Jane's eyes rolled and a smile she could not fight spread across her features, "Harbinger," but the utterance came out with surprising severity.

"I'd have gone with Harold, Pookie even," he mumbled, dragging a handkerchief across the underside of her nose.

Just as quickly the moment was gone, she pulled away from him. A token of gratitude left in the form of a gentle smile, "did you come out here to bother me, or did you need something?"

This was the prickly personality he didn't care for as fondly. Requiring a brief moment to placate a moment of hasty rebuke, his gaze moved to the half-empty can and the lid that lay a few meters downwind—twice ignoring the blood that peppered the ground beneath her seat. Perhaps he didn't have the patience to baby another mouthy soldier, and she seemed content to throw herself away. But in the same vein, he had regretted doing that years ago with his own child. Sure, this woman was a stranger, but she belonged to someone that worried about her. His innate integrity could hold him out a bit longer.

"You know, we don't have enough supplies to be wasting it," Roy found something to vent the heat building inside.

Jane's bright blue eyes that reflected the setting sun snapped to the can, a wince revealing the words did strike something, "you eat it then. I've been watching you pawn off your rations."

He accepted the can, plopping a hearty portion into his mouth, "still tastes like shit."

"I could really go for some steak fries and chutney," Jane mused gently.

"I'm thinking I could make that happen."

The woman's full attention turned to him, the fine fuzz of her returning eyebrows raised at him.

"Give or take a few weeks."

"I'm assuming you have a plan?"

"Yeah," the man paused, testing out the recruit, the hold on her patience proving to outlast him for the first time, "I'm hoping to test out your skills. And you need to start earning your keep."

"Ready and willing, sir!" She snapped to attention, a foreign energy oozing from her at this moment. Not that he doubted her willingness to come along, he was just surprised to see her motivated to do something.

"Hold your horses, Recruit. You may not be so excited when you find out what we are doing," not that he had much doubt about her grit, "it should be a standard supply run. With a large Krogan exception."

"Krogan, sir?"

He nodded, "before this mess all started, I had a small orchard; I knew a guy from London that shared the hobby. He was more into plants in general, but anyway, I couldn't recall his exact address but knew about the general area his warehouse was located. It should be a rapidly growing, resistant crop. The problem is the Krogan found it first."

"Are we trying diplomacy or just rushing in?"

"I want to try the former, the ladder only if things go south. Some big wig Clan Urgnut-"

"Urdnot."

Roy cleared his throat, that did sound right, "Urdnot was holed up there. Smart move on their part. But they don't have a protected area with access to sufficient sunlight to grow anything, and more importantly...hopefully, they aren't likely to know how to grow the crop."

"You're hoping to grow it within the atrium?" it seemed the recruit was astute enough to guess at the plan without it needing to be spelled out, "trading access for food and maybe protection?"

"If we are lucky."

He had already began to act hopefully, ordering the healthy refugees under guard to start collecting and tagging soil for growing crops. They had some luck, even if it meant desecrating the dead's gardens. The corporate offices he felt less guilty about robbing them of soil.

Finding power had been an easier ordeal; military generators were easily plugged into the grid to power the essentials like heat and some lighting. Water filters were easily found, and London's preference toward rain lent them an easy water source. They weren't foolish enough to rely on a regular storm pattern and already had begun to build a reserve of water. Communication was an entirely separate issue- they needed to find an engineer and fast. Or rely on another splinter group to fulfill that gap. On the subject of protection, he didn't want to let on how direly he needed the talks to go peacefully. Once word got around that they could produce food, the untold number of refugees and nefarious forces pounding on their doors would create unfathomable problems.

But all this conjecture was counting chickens before the eggs hatched.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jane kept her assignment besides the Lieutenant with minimal complaint. They couldn't know that keeping watching along occupied territory was old news to her. While she was used to point, settling into the left flank was quickly done.

It was nice not being the center of attention, without the burden of anyone looking to her for guidance. Without the worry of making a wrong call, she could let down some of the instinctual guard associated with the position of leader. Luckily a hard call wasn't required for this part of the journey, the few-kilometer trip went by without incident.

"LT," she pressed once the first evidence of a perimeter came into view, "have you ever met a Krogan before?"

The male on her right smirked, rolling his eyes. Roy stopped, pulling a deep breath. Some of his stoic calm wearing at the edges. Jane knew this wasn't because of her, she had yet to do anything that would constitute annoying the man. He was nervous.

"No, but how different can they be?"

The man chuckled, "I heard they're almost mindless brutes."

Jane threw him a sharp glare, "they're the rough and tumble type, but not mindless. I'd suggest reminding him of home."

She could guarantee cooperation if Shepard wanted to come out. Shepard liked to remain locked away anymore.

While the man to her right heavily rolled his eyes, Roy seemed to take it under consideration. His gaze flickered back to the path before them, hesitation now more detectable in his manner.

"Maybe you-"

Roy's voice stopped with the interruptions of Jane's pistols suddenly unfurling to full length.

"Don't stop," a gruff Krogan voice called, "I'm looking for a fight."

A second voice was a little more reasonable, "what is your business? This is Krogan territory."

"Human territory," the man retorted with surprising gusto, "you overfeed iguana."

For his bravery, the man collided with the road the third but silent Krogan finding the insult not to his liking. The first Krogan spurred on by his comrade shoved Roy aside, the older man spun without resistance to the ground, "humans are so soft."

Jane was purely lucky that the more tolerable Krogan was nearest to her. It didn't make her less angry. Yes, pushing over the douche of a specimen was permitted but bringing the old man into it? She expected better of Clan Urdnot. Pissed off, the female stormed for the offending Krogan.

Now, she wasn't foolish enough to go in guns blazing, but she knew a better way to deal with the offending reptile. According to Zaeed the spot she had to hit corresponded with a weak spot on the species' frontal plate. If she had a knife and the gall to do so, she could rip that piece off and cause the Krogan to panic. But on the less violent and more in line with the peacekeeping mission she had a superior move: simple, elegant, and a returning item on her personal bucket list.

Headbutting another Krogan.

In retaliation, he glowed blue.

It never came to fruition as the reasonable member stepped between them, "you have offended her krant. Let it go." But his smirk didn't go unnoticed, "what do you want?"

"We're here to speak with Wrex."

The Krogan chuckled, "you have an impressive quad. But I don't think the clan leader is interested in what you have to say."

"You really want to test that? Would we really be here if wasn't important," Shepard's fire returned, "what other reason would we have to seek out the Krogan? Certainly not for the fight." She motioned toward the two with her.

The Krogan gave an exasperated sigh, "fine, but only one of you. The other two wait."

Jane pivoted and proffered an open hand to the LT, "this is your ball game, sir. Do us proud."

#shenko #mass effect fanfiction #femshep x kaidan #mass effect #mass effect spoilers #kaidan alenko #commander shepard #fanfic #take me home #mass effect andromeda

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hydrangeasimagination · 5 years ago

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Crossover Crush Competition

Wherein which our dear characters meet their rival for your affections.

The twist is that they're from somewhere else.

Another universe!

I've been writing a lot of BNHA but we need some more love for the two other fandoms I write for!

But let's get into the contestants.... Shall we?

Thoughts in quotes are italicized.

In Kusuo’s case, words spoken through telepathy are bolded and italicized and are in quotes.

~ Dari

Round 1

Saiki Kusuo VS. Manuda Kaede (Saiki K & Kakegurui)

"It seems this is a running theme."

The thought was drier as the would-be tone used. Saiki's eyes didn't leave the bouncing form in the distance, the blur of two figures coming closer and becoming more clear with every step.

He'd wait though.

Always for you.

With that sweet as sugar smile he silently admired, you practically sang, "Kusuo!!"

His gaze drifted to the tall boy beside you. Just barely able to keep his expression neutral when he felt the onslaught of unpleasant thoughts from his head.

"So, this is the one that Jabami mentioned... I don't quite see what the fuss is."

Saiki nearly cringed, catching himself before he'd rolled his eyes.

It seems brooding megane were the type you attracted.

"What a pain."

"Kusuo, this is my friend from school," You gestured "Manyuda - senpai, this is Kusuo! My childhood friend."

Violet clashed with onyx, gazes hardening once they've crossed.

The psychic nearly considered taking off his own lenses, but with you there, he couldn't risk it.

No matter.

"Nice to meet you." The white haired male stiffly greeted. "I will be joining you both on this study session."

Kusuo just nodded.

Slowly, dark eyes flickered to give him a once over whilst the dialogue in his head played out. "There's nothing noteworthy of this Saiki Kusuo, seemed I was concerned for nothing. I don't understand why there's nothing but pictures of him in that notebook."

A fury blazed under his skin once those thoughts reached him, it'd apparently started showed in his face as he sees Manyuda narrow his eyes in return. But he didn't let him get the satisfaction for losing his temper for no good reason. Especially not in front of you.

"Ku?" The chime of your voice was filled with concern, making butterflies come alive in his stomach to overtake the anger.

"Let's go, my mom probably set out snacks."

Pointedly, he made eye contact with Manyuda and reached to take your hand.

A smug smile threatened to pull at his lips as he saw his shoulders tense.

"... Perhaps he is more of a threat than I thought."

Oh, he had no idea.

Round 2

Teruhashi Kokomi VS. Bakugo Katsuki (Saiki K & BNHA)

Teruhashi had a problem with Bakugo Katsuki.

He was a brute would be her first gripe.

Crude, rude, mouthy - not to mention cocky, self-righteous, and just straight up arrogant. It'd made him completely immune to her charms, even though he'd never hope to match up to her beauty.

Though she begrudgingly admitted he is good looking, though not enough to act how he does.

But that wasn't the root cause of the issue.

He was smart.

So much so that he could tell that she was putting up a front the entire time. It was frustrating how observant he was as it'd made him call her out even at risk of his own reputation.

Though it's clear he didn't care what people thought about him anyway so he has nothing to lose. He looked through her like it was the easiest thing he'd ever done.

But that wasn't the problem either.

Even though he drove her nuts with his indifference to her, his annoyance at her very presence.

How he'd branded her a “fake” and an “extra” boiled her blood.

She was tough - as thick skin was something she had to have as the pretty and perfect girl.

Bakugo Katsuki is a menace.

A handsome, smart, talented, menace that knew what he wanted.

They'd be a powerful pair if it weren't for one factor...

Her problem was him being around you.

Her crush.

You were lovely! So charming and soft, there's no pressure to be perfect around you because of that sugary aura and lovingly accepting nature. That tendency to fire back and match a flame makes you terribly alluring...

Much to her dismay, she wasn't the only one that thought so.

She sees how he looks at you.

How different he treats you to the rabble...

It makes her skin crawl.

"Hello, Teruhashi - san!" Chirpy and upbeat, bright eyes and all, the requisite greeting she'd grown endeared to.

"... Faker." Bakugo hissed, eyes suspiciously trained on her smile.

He stood unnecessarily close to you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his sagging pants. She could tell he was itching to hold your hand, not unlike her.

The two of them were prideful though.

Unwilling to back down.

"Shall we go? That sweets shop isn't going to be open forever." Kokomi beamed at you nonetheless, radiance pouring from her.

There was no stares of envy directed at them, likely having been scared off by the explosive blond. Knowing of his dislike for her helped in that case too.

"Sounds good." You hummed, unaware of the tension between your friends.

Carmine met sapphire.

Bolts of electricity shot between them, competitive and fiery.

It pained her to admit that he was a worthy rival.

But there can only be one victor.

Round 3

Saotome Mary VS. Uraraka Ochako (Kakegurui & BNHA)

Carefully setting teeth, careful not to grind. Withholding from speaking ruinous words lest favor is tipped differently. Peals of jealously curled deep in her gut, only barely offset by the feelings of affection blanketing her in warmth.

Uraraka was simply too cute.

Too nice.

There's no way she could be this naive, right?

Mary teetered on that fine edge, unable to tell the motives of her apparently oblivious rival in romance.

She'd barely able to keep herself composed when it came to matters of the heart. Her quirk went haywire, turning so red that she'd match the blazer Mary donned.

Sutbly nonexistent in Uraraka's dictionary, plain and simple,

But her suspicion remained, ever looming and growing.

Then there was you.

Genuinely oblivious, charismatic, kind, and so endearingly stupid... No wonder the both of them vyed for your attention so readily.

Though it seemed to be unknown to Ochako that Mary was even competition.

Her thoughts buzzed, "Or...."

Biting the inside of her cheeks, golden gaze narrowing into pinpricks.

A wash of irritation.

"She didn't think I was noteworthy enough to be considered."

Not until today.

Today would be the day.

"Uraraka Ochako."

The brunette looked startled, standing betwixt her friends. Of whom were surprised to see Saotome standing before them, her head held high with a burning fire in her gaze.

Uraraka suddenly felt uneasy, judging by her look.

Both of them knew of each other, yes, but only because of associating with you.

"C - can I help you, Saotome - san?" She squeaked out, confused.

Plantings her hands on her hips, the girl in question straightened her back and stared right at her.

Between parted pink lips, dropped a bomb, "This is a declaration of war."

"E - eh? Saotome - sa -"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, not even you can be that much of an airhead." Mary scoffed gently, reaching her hand up and sweeping her pigtail back.

Her friends were unable to speak, unable to believe that this was in fact happening.

"For..."

The blond fixed her rival with a gaze, a little vindicated to watch her flinch back at the syllables of your given name. Nothing but a determination lined her eyes and she was going to make good on the promise she made.

"The rules are there will be no sabotage," She plainly stated "and we will be happy no matter which one of us wins out."

Uraraka still stood, gaping and red in the face.

Mary didn't stay for her answer, turning on her heels and knowing exactly where to find you.

This was her day after all.

She didn't turn her head, just kept walking.

Distinctly, she wondered if she'd been mistaken.

Ochako's shout made her pause mid-step, made her wait to make sure it was her rival that spoke...

After this night, there will be no mercy.

"... Let's do our best!!"

"Let's go to war."

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 7: Two Wrongs End in a Fight

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Sometimes good intentions aren’t enough. Sometimes no matter what there are always consequences to your actions.

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Even on opposite sides of the ring the Minotaur makes Cadence look almost comically small. Which is saying something for this height.

They circle one another; complete opposites. The Minotaur either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care that its opponent has changed. It beats hulking fists against it’s chest and lets out deep, intimidating huffs and snorts of it’s large bull head. Even with the metal between them those who end up behind the beast on the outside back off for their safety.

But it’s tactics aren’t working on the stony-faced vampire — it can tell. Ends up roaring louder and louder, so loud Taylor has to cover his ears with his palms and it still hurts.

On the outside Ryder pushes his way to Katherine with Taylor in tow. Growls out in a low breath; “What the fuck does he think he’s doing? He’s gonna get us all killed.”

Katherine snorts. “You’re not the one in the cage, Nik.”

“That may be but I gotta get the wolves outta here. Like, now.”

“Or what?” It’s enough to wrench her eyes away from the fighters and their posturing.

“I don’t know and I don’t wanna find out. But if Kristof’s boys find us…”

“Shit, he actually sent Pack into town?” Ryder nods and her grip tightens on the cage links. “Well — I — I can’t leave him, Ryder. Not now, especially.”

And if that’s his intention Taylor wants to stop that shit right quick. Grabs onto Ryder’s shoulder.

“We’re not leaving. Not until he’s out of that cage.”

“Stay outta this, Taylor. It ain’t your business.”

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to… I mean if we could help…”

Katherine throws him back a look. “You want to help?”

“Of course.”

“Then pick a god and pray.”

If Cadence is looking for any sign of an opening or weakness — the audience decides he isn’t allowed the luxury. One brave soul, pushed forward by other less-brave souls, jumps at the cage right as the Minotaur turns its back to him — slams his fists and rattles the metal with ferocity.

“Get to the fuckin’ fight!” he rages.

The Minotaur scrapes a hoof against the concrete — and charges.

The vampire dives away an inch too late — cries out when a strong hand wraps around his ankle and throws him across the cage like a ragdoll.

There was a phase Taylor went through early into his transition where he tried (the operative word) getting into things all young American boys are supposed to be into; cars, gym memberships, wrestling. None of them ever stuck — wrestling the most of all. There were healthier ways to work out aggression than mindlessly beating someone else to a pulp. Didn’t matter if it was ‘all staged’ or not. He’s not a fan of violence.

So when he watches those nearest where Cadence falls whoop and cheer and scream in his fallen face it takes everything inside of him not to look away in disgust.

Cade flips his messy hair out of his eyes — reaches to wipe blood from his temple with the back of his hand but only succeeds in smearing it into his locks. He tries to jump to his feet but can’t — lets out a cry and crumples to his knees favoring the right side.

“Get up!”

“Pathetic!”

“Someone bring in the wolf!”

Katherine looks ready to threaten a jeering woman next to her but instead uses her clenched fist to bang against the metal. “Come on, Cade! Set it and get up!”

And Taylor’s sure he’s not the only wide-eyed watcher as, as though she commanded it of him, the vampire stands and hammers his fist into his knee. Puts it back into place judging by the way he tests out the joint.

The Minotaur doesn’t take the time to relish its victory. Charges again but this time Cade’s ready — this time he’s waiting. This time he slides between the hairy hooves rather than trying to move aside and spins in the dirt to kick the beast in the lower back.

The Minotaur falls with a strangled noise. Catches its horns on the cage and wrestles itself out with mindless rage before whirling around and swiping its lowered head like a skilled swordsman would his blades.

Like they’re moving to the chants and calls for blood and gore as music, Cadence and the Minotaur dance around one another for what feels like forever. Every blow the creature lands is quickly healed on the vampire with only streaks of blood and torn clothes a reminder they happened at all. And while Cadence’s attacks on the Minotaur seem calculated and with intent they might as well be near misses.

But the Minotaur is smart. Smarter than it looks. And rather than letting Cadence form a gap between them to recover from a hook to the jaw it charges again, horns prone, and sinks deep into the meat of the vampire’s side before tearing away.

“CADENCE!”

Without even so much as a cry of pain he staggers back. Everyone else backs away; treats his wound like a plague rather than one made of their own selfishness and greed. Everyone but Katherine. Who struggles to try and fit her fingers through the gaps in the links. Like sheer force of will will press her through the space occupied by something else and bring her to him.

He collapses on his knees; she mirrors him without thinking. This time it’s Taylor who holds back Ryder from trying to pry her away. In retrospect he’s probably just concerned for Kathy’s safety around a wounded — no doubt starving — vampire. But something about the moment in front of them screams not to be interrupted.

Katherine’s hair obscures Cade’s face — so close they could be locked in a passionate kiss. He clutches to the hole in his side and his time the blood doesn’t stop flowing. Just another coat and color added to the already decorated concrete.

Taylor’s eyes fixate on the white-knuckled grip onto which the vampire holds the fence. Could swear it looks like the links in the rusting chain metal are starting to groan and bend under the pressure. Catches his rasping voice only because the anticipation of the inevitable kill and continued victory streak for their champion has his fans silent; practically on the edge of orgasm.

“Something’s happening, Kathy—”

Cade’s whisper sounds like a scream in his ears.

Katherine slowly — hesitantly — places her hand over his.

“Don’t fight it. Let it swallow you whole.”

“Let it…?”

“Swallow you whole, Cadence. Become it.”

“I — no — what if —”

“If you don’t you’ll die in here. And then you’ll never know the truth. You don’t want that.” And when he doesn’t respond; “I told you I’d be your last. Don’t make me a liar.”

Taylor wants to pull them apart. Feels somehow like the advice she’s giving is inherently bad — filled with unknowns and secrets he’s not privy to and probably for good reason.

There’s a fraction of a second where it looks like he’s given up — made a liar out of her anyway. But when Cadence pulls back and catches Taylor’s eye over the huntress’ shoulder he realizes almost too late how wrong he is.

Too late for him, for Ryder, for Katherine… Definitely too late for the Minotaur. Because it looked at first like this fight was going to be man versus beast. But the thing trapped in the cage isn’t a man at all. He isn’t a man at all.

He grins mouthy and fanged like he can read Taylor’s thoughts. Something cocky and righteous; no trace of the previous pain.

The tense rope of silence finally snaps to thunderous applause when the Minotaur goes in for the kill. Yanks Cadence back like it’s just going through the motions of the finish of the fight. Picks him up and hauls the smaller form over his head to let it shatter on the ground.

Only he doesn’t. He never collides with the floor.

Instead lands nimbly on his feet; dusts himself off like there isn’t a hole of gore in his side and his shirt isn’t half torn off. Takes the stunned expression on the Minotaur’s face to right himself with a gentlemanly scrutiny.

The shock wears off quickly — literally shaken aside with a huff of displeasure and confusion and twitching bull’s ears. It doesn’t know what happened. And for once it isn’t alone. But it knows so little about the world — knows only what it’s been made to do.

So it does what it does best. It charges.

The hoof raises but Cade’s already across the ring. Several jabs to the chest of the beast; ribs and around the back to the spine. Just like before, Taylor realizes — perhaps too late, only somehow different.

Before a hit sent the Minotaur stumbling. Now it doesn’t take a goblin’s heightened hearing to catch the crunch and crack of the broken spine that follows.

Over and over he moves faster than the Minotaur — and the crowd — can see. Too fast for his body to heal; judging by the cage-front watchers and the flecks of blood on their faces and fancy coats. If Taylor didn’t know better — and who knows, maybe he doesn’t — he’d swear the vampire is enjoying his victory. Playing with the Minotaur like a toy.

Prolonging the inevitable.

In a final violent act a white-knuckled grip grabs on a horn and yanks hard enough to throw the entire weight of the creature off-kilter. A fallen feather in a hurricane.

The Minotaur lies in a slowly growing pool of its own blood. Spreading into the grooves left by charing hooves and fallen opponents and pooling in an abstract tale of the first and only defeat. The metallic smell is awful; pungent. Makes Taylor feel nauseous.

He’s pretty sure even Minotaurs shouldn’t be able to bend their arms the opposite direction at the elbow.

And in the corner; Cadence. The broken horn a trophy of victory in his grasp.

He stepped into the cage to try and right a wrong — Taylor understands that. But now… now he’s not so sure what’s left standing. What did Katherine do to him?

An unnerving silence ripples out from the victorious vampire. Spreads out to every soul watching as he walks calmly to the cage entrance. Katherine only has to gesture before the announcer is fumbling with a strange set of keys.

The Taylor from before all of this strangeness would have chocked up the thin shimmering veil that dissipates around the lock when a key slides home as nothing but heat or a trick of the light. The Taylor of now isn’t so sure.

Two bouncers rush in and around Cadence — look to each other for answers on how to go about dragging the Minotaur from the ring. Obviously something they aren’t quite used to. They end up grabbing one furry arm a-piece and drag with all their might.

Cadence keeps a tight grip on his prize even as Katherine coaxes him out. When she tries to hand him back his things he doesn’t seem to recognize them — not until she pulls the golden earring from some unseen pocket.

That he takes — pins back in place with careful precision. As though his hands aren’t stained in another creature’s blood.

“We’re leaving.” Katherine snaps at the announcer. Holds up a sharp nail at the end of a ‘not taking your shit’ finger and presses it to the man’s gaping void of a mouth. “Keep your prize money. And tell Lady Smoke what’ll happen to her next champion… to ensure there isn’t one.”

Though her confidence is unwavering, the hunter still looks back to Cade as if to ask ‘is this what you wanted?’ And hopefully she can take his silence as an agreement. Because it’s all they’re apparently getting out of him.

The Nighthunters exchange silent conversation that ends in a single curt nod; joined as if by a thread.

Nik wraps an arm around Taylor’s waist — jerks his head for Cal and Donny to follow as he starts ushering them through the crowd before it awakens.

“We’re gettin’ outta here.”

Taylor throws a look back to the pair. Watches Katherine throw Cadence’s jacket over his broad shoulders. “But…”

“No, Rookie. Not this time.”

“Nik, if you just —”

“Let it go.”

“But —”

“Let. it. go.” Clenched teeth, a squeeze on his shoulder. He’s not kidding and isn’t taking no for an answer.

He’s about to let it go. Really, he truly is.

Then he sees a distinct and familiar type of full-arm glove reaching to wipe away tears from a familiar type of face. Finds himself lurching out of the safety of Ryder’s closeness and pushing through until the cage stops him — just an obstacle but enough of one that he grasps the rusted links in his clutches and tries to part them like they’re gossamer threads.

“Vera!”

Behind him he knows they’re calling for him — “Taylor!” and “Rook!” and “Hey!” — but they don’t matter.

“Vera!” Rattling the cage like just another man losing his life savings on a bad bet. “Vera! Hey Vera! Over here! Vera!”

She’s real — wasn’t a fever dream. She was real and they abandoned her outside the cemetery but she also knew; had to have known something. Why else wouldn’t she have joined them in their fearful delirium? Why did she say what instead of who?

“Vera!”

She knows because she’s here. Here in this wonderfully hidden monstrosity of a place. She knows because she’s hidden in this secret world just like he is and that means she’s far more responsible for what happened to Kristin than he is.

God, she fucking knew!

“VERA!” Taylor slams his fist and rattles the cage. Catches a dip in the volume of the place just enough for her to peek between her delicately gloved hands and catch his eye. All the people in the place and she sees him.

Yeah, she should look scared.

Her name like an incantation falls a flat consonant when he’s wrenched back by Ryder’s strong hand. Forced to turn away from the undeniable proof he didn’t even know he was looking for to look into a different kind of proof. The kind in Ryder’s stony eyes.

“What’re you doing, Rook?” — because apparently that nickname is gonna stick — ��Is it Opposite Day and no one decided to tell me? Do I gotta tell you ‘hey, let’s stay and grab a game of Blackjack’ for you to — Taylor! I’m — Don’t you run away from me!”

But he is. Is already done with hearing Ryder’s complaints because Vera’s just over there and does she know about Krissy and move so I can get to her.

Only he makes it about three-point-two steps in that general direction before Ryder’s tugging him back; this time without verbal argument.

“No—Nik no you don’t understand—Nik she’s —”

“Who?”

Who, indeed. Certainly not Vera, because there’s a gaping hole where she was standing just a moment ago that’s slowly being filled by increasingly rowdy patrons.

She’s gone.

They wrestle over ownership of Taylor’s shoulder until he gives up. Huffs and stops moving which is enough for Ryder not to manhandle him and actually pay attention to his sudden episode.

“Did you see someone?” Finally, only now it’s too late. A useless question.

Taylor’s sigh is so heavy, so damn heavy; he feels the weight of it all the way down into his soul.

“I thought… no, no I guess I didn’t.”

And of course now, when it’s pretty much the definition of too late, Ryder actually starts believing him; looks ready to question it until Taylor passes him by for Cal and Donny.

They were supposed to abandon Katherine and Cadence — not the other way around. But the crowd is still stunned enough for them to take advantage and slip away.

Away and to a service elevator the wolves sniff out from the shadows. An elevator that’s only two doorways from the almost holy taste of fresh air. Humidity or not all it takes it one breath to be a hundred times better than the stale smell of blood and sweat from down below.

“Would’a been convenient to know about this shit getting in…” Ryder mumbles — keeps it to himself so as not to spoil the rare moment of joy between the Lowell brothers as they have a proper reunion in mutual freedom.

But Taylor sees it as the gesture it is, knows for a mouthy guy like Nik it took a lot of restraint to keep that to himself, and gives him a gentle elbow of ‘I’m proud of you.’

“Now we know for next time.”

“Ha, next time,” Cal stops grinding his knuckles into Donny’s hair, “well there definitely ain’t gonna be a next time if I have anything to say about it.”

It’s a comment aimed directly at Donny. Lucky for him the boy gets it. “Right there with you, Cal. Thanks for… you know.”

“You’re my Pack and my blood, Don’. Like I was gonna let anything happen to you? We’re in this together.”

“You sure are.”

Octavia’s voice pierces through the night; makes it feel just as confining as the cage ring.

Ryder holds both hands up in surrender and Taylor doesn’t have much of a choice but to join.

Because Octavia’s part of the Pack, too. And the Pack came with.

There’s no closed doors this time around.

Kristof’s gathered the Pack around a large bonfire behind the hunting cabin. Whatever goes down; it goes down in front of everyone this time.

Octavia shoves Cal and Donny on their knees in front of their Alpha. It hasn’t rained in days but the bayou leaks into the earth, here. Stains their jeans with mud.

Ryder’s held back but has just as little freedom — held still with a preternaturally strong grip on the back of his coat collar.

“No, him too.” Kristof barks. Stops the Pack member from lumping in Taylor with the rest of the onlookers. He obeys without a second thought and pushes him to face whatever wrath is sure to come.

Cal throws a look back his way with a pained expression. “Come on, Kristof, he’s got nothin’ to do with this,” he argues — almost pleads, “hell even Ryder ain’t to blame. I bribed them to take me to Donny.”

The Alpha inhales through flared nostrils; deep and purposeful and noisy.

“Last I checked a bribe weren’t the same as holdin’ a knife to their throats. They knew what they were doin’.”

There’s a second where Donny looks ready to try and join in but one look from Cal sets him straight. Let the adults talk.

Taylor throws Nik a look. Is there anything we can do?

No, says the look he gets back — the smallest twitch of Ryder’s head back and forth, just watch and wait.

One raised hand from Octavia and the Pack goes dead quiet. No, not just the Pack. The entire bayou — every cicada, cricket, even the whistles of the willow vines. The entire bayou watches and listens.

“I don’t even know where to start with you Lowell boys,” when Kristof finally speaks it’s heavy and sigh-ful like a parent, “both’a you come to me for help and then both’a you do the exact opposite of what I tell you to do. So I’ll just ask this; am I your Alpha?”

He knows the answer. The best Taylor can figure is that he asks it to prove a point. It’s a bully tactic. Makes him want to call the man out on it — instead he just hopes there’s more to this Pack thing than he understands. For Cal’s sake at the very freakin’ least.

The Lowell brothers answer just a second out of sync.

“Yes, Kristof.”

“Of course.”

“Could’a fooled me!” His shout ripples through the whole Pack in shivers and shuffles.

Cal courts danger and chances a look up.

“I couldn’t just take a walk and do nothing, Kristof.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“He’s my brother! My kid brother—my blood brother!” If there’s more he wants to say he bites it off the tip of his tongue.

Kristof just shakes his head. “No no, see; I hear you Lowell. But what I’m hearin’ ain’t what you’re sayin’. ‘Cuz what I’m hearin’ is that you didn’t trust me to bring him home.”

“That’s not what I said —”

“Isn’t it, though? You came to me because you were — rightfully — worried about Donny.” — how they can keep talking like Donny isn’t right there is beyond him — “And I told you I’d do everything I could. Not just for you, and not just for my brother. But for the good’a the Pack.”

Octavia, up until then a stoic guard, curses something in French under her breath and rubs the back of her neck.

Whatever he’s said is enough to rile her — but leaves Taylor feeling like he blinked and missed it. Has him trying to piece together some of the puzzle until Kristof makes it easy on him; continues.

“You boys know family is everything to me — just like it was to your Pop. Weren’t no chance I wasn’t gonna take in my own blood when he passed. You know that. But one thing he always understood — the thing you boys still don’t have drilled in those thick skulls a’yers — is that no matter how important blood and kin may be when it comes to bein’ the Alpha the Pack has to come first. It has to.”

As the realization settles over him all Taylor can think is that he must have a thick skull, too. Because he definitely doesn’t understand how Kristof — how Cal and Donny’s uncle — can do this; Alpha-schmalpha.

Cal and Donny, Taylor and Ryder, Octavia and the rest of the Pack wait on bated breath for Kristof to continue. Continue justifying his choices, continue by handing down a sentence — does it matter?

It’s for the sake of the brothers Lowell that he hopes the Alpha’s hesitation is, in some part, because he’s at war with duty and family.

Instead Kristof jerks his meaty chin up; fixates on Octavia. “How much damage did they do?”

“Not much from what we could tell,” she sounds almost relieved, “and the few goblin recruiters we managed to corner made it sound like it was someone else who did all the dirty work.”

The weight of the Alpha’s frown lands on Cal all at once. “Puttin’ us in more debt around the community than we already are?”

“Ah — no, actually — if I…?”

Ryder actually waits for permission to speak. As if pigs have taken flight around the world.

Octavia nods. “Go on.”

“The Pack won’t have to worry about that, is all I’m sayin’. There were other forces at work; independent ones. They were holdin’ Smoke’s debtors in cages, Kristof.”

“Cages?” It’s the first time they seem to address Donny — takes him a breath to notice before he nods so hard his head might fall off.

Ryder continues; “Now, be mad at ‘em for all you want, but I think the one thing we can all agree on is that shit ain’t right no matter what you owe.”

“No; no it ain’t,” — there’s a ‘but’ coming — “but that don’t excuse what you did—what both’a you did. Donny, pup, thinkin’ a’yer kin’s all well and good but good intentions didn’t do much good in a cage now did they?

“And you, Cal… you made yer grave. Time to lie in it.”

Taylor throws Ryder a panicked look. It’s just a metaphor, right? Even so it’s a bad one to use at a time like this. Especially when they both very well could have ended up in the grave had they fought the Minotaur anyway!

“Wait —”

He doesn’t need to know the finer details of Pack mentality, though, to know that when Cal stands that’s not the thing to do. Makes the gathered wolves stir restlessly; the Alpha and the Beta growling at the act of defiance.

Cal seems to be done baring his neck in silent acceptance; in cut-off explanations he knows won’t be listened to.

“I’ll take both our punishments.”

“Cal no way —” Donny’s voice cracks; Cal uses it to cut him off with a hand to stay him down.

“Don’, shut up.”

Kristof isn’t forcing his nephew back down. He’s not actually going to listen… is he?

“I’m listenin’.”

“The way I see it — mercy would be banishing us both from the Pack. I get it Kristof; I do. But he’s just a kid—a pup. He needs a Pack to grow up with, not grow up in spite of.”

“Some might say he needs blood kin more.”

“Yeah well…” Cal rubs the back of his head, “he’ll have you for that, won’t he?”

“Are you tryin t’say you don’t need the Pack, Lowell?” Octavia scoffs behind him. Draws his gaze back — where it lands not on her but on Taylor. Where it stays.

“No, but there’s a future generation to think of.”

Donny tries again but knows there’s no use; a half-whispered “please Cal…” punctuated by shaking shoulders and the near-silent ‘boys don’t cry’ sniffles of youth.

There really isn’t any use. But the Alpha shifts on his workman’s boots. Maybe he’s a little glad to have the weight of decision taken off his broad shoulders.

“If that’s yer final decision.”

“It is.”

“Then there ain’t a home for you here with the Jensen Pack, Cal Lowell. And I don’t think I gotta tell you what’ll happen if you find your way here without my say-so.”

Taylor doesn’t know what to think. Tries in earnest — looking around at the Pack — to find someone just as dismayed by this as he is. Someone with the balls to step forward; to say something.

“The same goes for you Nik-fuckin’-Ryder, and yer nosy little mortal, too.” The barest hint of remorse is gone when Kristof addresses them. All that rage from the beginning of the night bubbling back with one look and a low growl. “You stay the hell away from me and mine. There ain’t a friend for you here.

“Get out, and take the stray with ya.”

The Alpha’s disgruntled return to the cabin is all anyone needs. The Pack disperses in hushed discussion. Octavia pushes past Cal like he’s — well, like he’s Nik — to help Donny up with a far gentler demeanor.

The kid doesn’t waste a second standing to rush into Cal’s waiting arms. They hug with the same ferocity, the same desperation. Reunited hours earlier only to give one last goodbye now.

“It’s not fair.” Only realizes he’s said it aloud when Ryder gives a squeeze of his shoulder.

“No; it isn’t.”

Octavia gives the Lowells as long as she can. And whatever it is — fear or duty — it’s enough to make Donny unlatch himself from Cal without much resistance. The arm she throws around his scrawny shoulders isn’t possessive. Cal even looks a little relieved.

“You got ‘til the moon’s under the trees to pack a bag,” she tells Cal.

He shrugs it off. “Won’t need that long. Just…”

They both look down to Donny rubbing his runny nose with his sleeve.

In a rare flash of emotion, the Beta’s face softens.

“He’ll be taken care of. Go on — get.”

And Cal doesn’t need very long at all. Emerges from his trailer with a single duffel slung over his shoulder and a paper bag clutched in his fist.

Before Ryder can even kick off from the side of the mobile home Cal shoves the bag in his hand. “Your Hunter’s Sage.”

Ryder doesn’t look inside; doesn’t have to… or maybe he just trusts Cal at his word finally.

“Thanks.”

“A deal’s a deal.” His shoulders heave in his sigh as he turns to Taylor; looks ready to maybe give some sort of a goodbye. Only Taylor won’t have it.

“You ready?”

He blinks. “Ready for what?”

“To come back with us —” holding up both hands, “— and don’t even try to say no. I’m sure Garrus wouldn’t mind putting you up.” Well, no, he doesn’t really know at all. But judging by the emptiness of the Shift those rooms upstairs don’t exactly have a waiting list.

This is all his fault anyway. Somehow; it just is.

Cal’s protest is stuttered, almost wordless. He looks to Ryder like the fellow loner might back him up but gets only a shrug — nothing to make his case.

“Cab’s waitin’ off the edge’a the property.”

Luckily (though it may be tied to a defeated mood, the more Taylor thinks about it) Cal doesn’t argue. Just nods and follows along with his head held high.

Well until they cross the pergola marking the Pack’s territory — then he tries his best not to let the others know he steals a glance back.

Taylor notices; pretends he doesn’t. Just ‘accidentally’ bumps Cal’s shoulder with his own to help him put one foot in front of the other.

#nightbound #choices nb #nik ryder #cal lowell #playchoices #katherine nightbound #vera reimonenq #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oc: cadence smith #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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