#this place is a dumpster fire waiting to explode :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bookishdream · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do a Kaz x reader where the reader have to "cheat on him" (not in relationship but like she goes to another gang) because someone's threatening her and when he discovers she was just trying to protect him and the gang she dies

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for a request, I've been wanting to write some angst for a really long time! I hope it is as hurtful as you wished, enjoy xx

TW: angst, blood, killing

kaz brekker x reader

Your hands were sweaty and shaking. You crossed your arms on your chest in order to hide that. You didn’t like being threatened, especially by some amateurs. But it wasn’t a threat against you, it was against your family in Novyi Ziem. You had to use your whole will power to not kill them right there and then.

“Why do you think I’d do anything you want me to?” you asked snapping your gaze between a woman and a man in front of you. “You don’t know anything about me and my family you assume I have.”

“Oh, y/n, but we know everything. For instance, your little brother is playing as we talking on your vast field, your parents are watching him with so much love in their eyes,” woman with blonde hair spoke first, describing the scene so vividly that you almost showed an emotion on your face. “maybe they have already forgotten about you? Maybe your mother is pregnant so they could fill a blank you left in their home.”

“Shut up, you think you’re so smart, aren’t you?” you snapped, face blank and mind filling with memories from times when you were as young as your brother was then, playing on the exact same field. “I will never betray Kaz, and you should know that.”

“Oh sweetie,” the guy beside walked closer to you, you made a step, in order to make some distance between you and them. “we’re not asking you to betray him, we’re asking you to leave this silly gang and join us, Pekka Rollins would be really happy if you did.”

“You two are much denser than I thought, if you think I want to make him happy.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Blonde said, making you shiver. “We have someone who would be pleased to kill this little family of yours. I don’t think you want them dead, even though they think you are, in fact, dead.”

You started to think about that. Crows were your friends and you love them. Inej and Nina always found various ways to make you cheerful when your day wasn’t the best, Jesper taught you how to use a pistol and flirted with you like his life depended on it. Wylan was like a sun in rainy days, even if you loved them, you also loved this boy and his stupid jokes. Matthias was funny to tease, he always was saying how awful you and the girls were, but you could also see this little twitch of his lip corner when he tried to suppress his laugh. And there was Kaz, your beginning wasn’t the pleasant one, you nearly killed him when you saw him for the first time, and in revenge he left you in the Barrel for the whole night, all alone. But after that, you started falling for him, and you fell hard. You couldn’t exactly point out when that happened, but you were sure you’d anything to save him from himself. He had tough personality, he cared only for money and how he could invest it to get the whole city only for himself. But he let you do that with him, barley sleeping and when you did it was in the same bed. Arm-length gap but you always were less exhausted than when you were sleeping in your own bed. You loved him and the rest of the Crows, but you loved your family more. And you knew what you had to do.

“Bitch.” You murmured. “Fine, whatever. Just stay the hell out of my family. And the gang.”

“We knew you’d make a right decision. Pekka will send money to Per Haskell in order to buy your contract. You won’t regret that.”

“I already do.”

After that day, you were about to start living with your new gang, family, like Pekka had said to you the previous day, he’d also told you to not worry about your parents and brother, that they were safe as long as you were working with him, willingly.

You wouldn’t call this willingly, but you guessed it was enough to prevent your family from any harm coming from Pekka and his stupid gang. You hated being here, you missed the Crow Club, late night talks with Inej and Nina, and helping Kaz with buying new ships. You wanted nothing more than to escape, but you couldn’t. Kaz and Crows could fight and kill, whereas your family was vulnerable, they couldn’t even hurt a fly. You spent the whole evening in your empty room. Window with grids making you shiver, you felt like a prisoner you were.

“We have a job for you.” The blonde girl who captured you came in, like it was her cell, not yours. “Behave and perhaps we’ll get rid of those grids.”

You wanted to punch her, you didn’t even know her name, it wasn’t even relevant, your hand was itching. You took a long, calming breath and looked at her, frowning. “I thought it was another week until you’d trust me enough to even open my window.”

“You’ve been here for two weeks. Plans have changed, we need you right now, so cut the attitude and come with me.”

You rolled your eyes and went after her, going up the stairs and leaving the place Pekka’s gang lived. You took another deep breath, smelling the awful scent of Ketterdam, smoke and money as Kaz used to say. Gods, you missed him.

“Where are we going?” you asked, falling into step with the girl, there were only the two of you, you assumed the rest will be somewhere where you were going. “What’s the job?”

“Can’t you just shut up? You’ll know when we’re there.”

You really wanted to punch her, still you said nothing, you wouldn’t get anything from her. It was dark on the city’s streets, buildings high enough to cover the moon, didn’t let its shine to light up the roads. You were annoyed and cold, your hair was swaying with the wind, goose bumps poking on your skin.

“Here.” Blonde said, handing you a pistol. “If you kill someone from ours, you’re dead before you take your last breath.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding your gun into the pocket of a coat you had. The metal was cold, making your hands even colder than they were before. Now when you had a real gun, not only your knife, perhaps you’d be able to escape. But where would you go? You were sure Kaz knew where you were, perhaps thinking you betrayed him, that thought only made you feel guilty in your guts, he trusted you and you chose people who you hadn’t seen for years over him. You had to escape, the cost didn’t matter.

When you came to the place, you saw a guy from Pekka’s gang and Kaz. Both of them were talking, but members of both groups had their guns or blades taken out. The Dirtyhands had his black coat, and his walking stick, as always. Jesper also was beside him, hands on his gun belt, ready to take them out and fire. You were more than sure that Inej was also there, somewhere on the roof or in the shadows, waiting and prepared to fight.

“We have men everywhere, two on roofs, one behind the bridge. All of them have guns pointed on you and your previous friends. I hope you know what that means.” The girl said, eyeing you. You only nodded, worrying too much about the Crows to even snap at her. “Good, now go and wait for a signal.”

You did as you were told, you hid somewhere behind a building, trying to recall every piece of information you gathered while snooping on guards or using the fact that they didn’t always close your doors. You had to find someone and tell them, you couldn’t waste any more time.

You poked your head out, searching for Matthias or Wylan. You doubted Nina would be here, since she was still working in the pleasure house. You were sure Wylan was there with his explosion ready to, well, explode. You cursed under your breath, when you couldn’t spot any of them, panic getting out of you with frustration. Someone from the Dime Lions would notice you’re not somewhere where they could spot you.

You crossed the narrow lane, as you noticed Matthias, you whistled hoping he would look into your direction. He turned his head and spotted you, anger on his face visible even in the dark. You cringed, knowing you’d get beaten up.

“You’ve got some nerve,” He said, his voice low. “after you started working with them, you have the audacity to come here.”

“Listen, I didn’t have a choice,” your voice so close to start begging him for forgiveness. “It was about my family.”

He looked at you wordlessly, confusion painting his face. Of course, he didn’t know you had a family, why would he. After a second, the ire came again. “You’re lying.”

“I'm not, I want to help you.”

“Oh, so now you did that to help us?”

“Matthias, I’m begging you, just let me tell you what I learnt.” You pleaded, your voice small. “Pekka wants to kill you as you’re standing, he has those new guns that can shoot you from really long distance.”

“What?” he looked alarmed, “We have to tell Kaz. Come.”

You let out a breath, it wasn’t the best look he sent you, but at least he didn’t leave you here. You told him everything you knew, he listened but his face still didn’t have pleasant expression.

You took out your gun, making your way behind the dumpster, hiding in shadows. You tried to calm your nerves, but the adrenaline had already kicked in. Matthias and you startled when you heard a shot, then another. You sent yourselves a knowing look, taking a step closer to the place where Kaz and the other guy were talking. Jesper had his guns out and Kaz was looking at the boy in front of him with disgust. You saw one of the Dregs were bleeding, you lifted your gun, targeting the closest one from the Dime Lions and fired. The bullet hit the girl in her stomach, making her stumble and fall to the ground. You hid yourself behind the wall and waited. Matthias sent you a look and you only lifted your arms, not knowing what to said.

After that, guns started firing, screams were everywhere. You saw the blonde girl that came here with you, standing with her pistol, aiming Kaz. You shot without looking, trying to hit her in an arm, you heard her scream and saw how the gun was laying on a ground. You looked up and saw that Kaz was looking at you, his face blank and unreadable. Jesper beside him, shooting people and screaming at Wylan to explode. The sound of explosion came from the roof, exactly where members of Lions were, you let out a shaky breath and made a step into the fight. Matthias fighting with his fists, slowly making his way toward Kaz, you tried to help him clear the path by shooting few people either in their heads or legs.

Your hands were tired, your head pounding but you were fighting hard, you had to make this in order to confess Kaz the whole truth. When you were close to him, he locked his eyes into yours.

“We have to talk.” You told him, lowering your tone. “Please.”

“This is not the best time to talk, y/n” the way he said your name made you shivered. It wasn’t an intimate way, it was with so much poison in only one word. “Why aren’t you fighting with your new gang?”

“Kaz, please, I’m trying to help.” You voiced, your eyes burning with sweat that slowly dripped from your forehead.

“Whatever.” He smacked an opponent with his cane, you only heard the sound of cracked bone and a loud thud when the enemy fell to the ground.

You two were fighting as you had before Pekka came into your life. Kaz understood you without any words, knew exactly where he should cover you because you couldn’t. Your movements were precise, keeping people away from Kaz’s vulnerable leg. You were fighting in a harmony, you kept your focus on people you had to kill, you shot them without any hesitation. When your bullets ended, you took out your knife and started stabbing everyone who wanted to stab you.

“I– “you paused, feeling a pain in your abdomen. You looked at Kaz, but he was looking at your lower stomach, you placed your gaze there and you saw blood. A lot of blood, then you felt pain, you stumbled, but Kaz placed his hand on your waist, slowly letting you fall on the ground. Your whole stomach was on fire, slowly burning you with its flame.

“Don’t you even dare dying here, messing my coat with your blood” he said, caressing your cheek. You chuckled, tasting blood on your tongue. “Don’t even think about it, y/n.”

“I’m–, please forgive me, Kaz” you murmured, hoped your words were understandable. “I was trying to save my family, but you’re my family too.”

“Y/n, I forgive you, but I’m begging you, don’t close your eyes” his voice filled with regret, eyes burning with anger, but you knew it wasn’t toward you. “Keep your eyes open.” He yelled at someone, but you couldn’t understand either it was Jesper or Matthias.

“Tell them I love them” you started to give up, your eyelids slowly closing. “I love you, Kaz Brekker.”

“Y/n, please don’t leave me” he tried to keep his voice from cracking, but he failed.

But you didn’t hear that, you had your eyes closed, hand that was laying on your stomach, now laying on the ground. He carefully removed his arm and got up. He spotted a blonde girl, smirking and looking at him, she slowly lifted her pistol, mockingly swaying it. She winked at him and still with a smirk, she left. Kaz made a promise he would kill her, he would do it for him. And for you.

360 notes · View notes

greenninjagal-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Let Me Hear You Scream pt2

Ready for more spooky vibes? If you missed the first part you can find it [here!]

Summary: Upon waking up in a forest he doesn't recognize, Roman vs a Bear Trap goes almost exactly how you would think it goes.

Words: 6374

TW: Bear traps, blood, violence,

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Roman has always had an unusually high pain tolerance. He had to, being twin brothers with Remus and all that. The sheer amount of danger the two of them got into as kids delegated that if he was anything less than completely indestructible, he’d be dead the next time Remus started a conversation with “I bet you won’t…”

He remembers that summer when Remus dared him to ride his bike down the concrete stairs, and he remembers how the wheels pitched him forward and his helmet cracked on the sidewalk, his knee skidded on the concrete, and his arm went snap with pain so white hot that Roman actually thought that the whole thing had popped right off his body entirely.

He remembers lying on the ground so shocked that he couldn’t even breathe, much less cry, and he remembers Remus laughing in the background, “I didn’t think you were going to actually do it! Oh shit, Ro? Roman! ROMAN!”

He remembers it so clearly.

“REMUS!” Roman shrieks into the forest, with tears rolling down his cheeks. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY, YOU FUCKER!”

His ankle burns. He can’t feel his toes, he can’t feel his ankle, he can’t feel anything, but there’s blood all over his hands and he can’t look down in case he faints.

His hands are trembling as they blindly work over whatever the fuck he stepped on. He can feel the slushie that he last ate, swirling in his stomach, boiling and bubbling until he feels it corroding his back molars. His fingers fumble around the… the metal teeth, oh god he’s going to vomit. His ankle screams in pain when his fingers prod too close to his actual limb. His ears echo with the painful awful SNAP of the jaw mechanism like its seared right into his soul.

“Remus,” He sobs, “I’m going to fucking kill you--”

Because there was a line here; Yeah, Remus dared him into a prank war with one of his stupid “I bet you wont, you prissy goody two shoes…” and Roman poured glitter into Remus’s laundry once, then Remus replaced Roman’s toothpaste with mayo, then Roman put white hair dye in Remus’s shampoo, and Remus swore he would get some type of revenge, even though he loved that look so much that he kept a stupid white streak in his hair. At least Roman thought he did-- He did, right?

Remus wasn’t the type to keep it to himself if he was upset. Neither of them were: Roman had perfected the art of loud sighs and dramatic monologues into a microphone and Remus had set things on fire to make people pay attention.

He didn’t-- wouldn’t--

He wouldn’t drag Roman into the middle of nowhere and make him walk into a bear trap for hair dye that would come out in another few weeks.

((Wouldn’t he?))

Everyone said Remus was insane, through whispered rumors and gossip that dissipated the moment that Roman walked into the room. Roman hadn’t ever seen the insanity himself; he grew up with Remus chasing squirrels in the park and diving into dumpsters for cool treasures and it was normal. Remus had always found humor in strange and weird things and as they had grown up those things had become less real and more abstract and Roman still didn’t think it meant that Remus would do this.

The forest is dense around him, stupid, dark; Roman isn’t sure he could recognize it even if he had a map in front of him, but then again Remus was always the more environmentally aware person of the two of them. He doesn’t know where Remus went the fuck off to either-- he’s brain is fuzzy at everything more than a few seconds ago when he blinked opened his eyes and took one step forward into a metal death trap, but he… he thought Remus had been right beside him, so close that… that…. His head is singing with pain and the backs of his eyes are melting.

“Hey!” A voice calls out and Roman flinches so hard that the metal spikes dig into his ankle and his scream strangles him.

Roman blinks back his tears just in time to see a figure stumble right out the thickets nearby, with the grace of a new born fucking dear. Roman swears in every language he knows and then some he doesn’t as the person scrambles back to their feet and zeroes in on him with an expression that Roman usually associates with the memory of his science teacher right before she demonstrated how to break a frog's ribcage for their dissection.

“No,” Roman says, “No, back off--”

He tries to scoot back and agony shoots up his leg so bright and violent that his vision whites out.

“Don’t move,” the person says, holding up their palms up suddenly to show they were unarmed or something. Roman isn’t sure what that’s supposed to do when he knows that Remus himself has never needed a weapon to be a lunatic. “I’m going to try to help.”

“Do not fucking come near me,” Roman snarls. “Who are you? One of Remus’s fucking little friends--”

“I assure you I don’t know a Remus, but you are in pain and believe I am qualified to help.”

“Fuck off!”

Roman swears that the pain is getting to his head, meddling with his thoughts like alcohol except not fun and Roman would not suggest anyone repeat this experience. The stranger-- Remus’s friend or whatever-- is staring at him with a patient impatience: like his mother waiting for him to finish his story before she runs off to answer a call on her work phone. They’re older than Roman, by a year or two, with sharp cheekbones and back framed glasses of a stereotypical nerd but a height that makes it hard to even imagine anyone looking down on them. Their eyes are colder than ice, and frost wafts off their breath. They’ve got a sweater vest on, with a tie, and converse dotted with glow in the dark paint in the shape of space nebulas.

Between his teary eye lashes Roman thinks that this guy looks incredibly tame for someone who associates with Remus and he fights the urge to vomit.

Is his leg supposed to be feeling cold?

Oh god, was he going to lose his foot? His breath swells up in his lungs, like a balloon pressing against his ribs. He wouldn’t be able to walk without a foot-- He wouldn’t be able to move or leave these woods or get help-- Remus and his psycho friends could easily cut up the rest of his body and let the wolves get him and then at school when someone would ask what happened to that dumbass who used to make dumb jokes on air during the football games, everyone will be like “Who?” and “didn’t Remus used to have an annoying twin? What happened to that guy?” and no one will ever find him because no one would car--

“Please,” The Doctor Who-ever says, in a faux calm tone as Roman nearly swallows his tongue. “I have medical knowledge, and you are clearly in distress.”

Agony races up his leg and Roman whimpers again. He swears he can hear the sound of metal grinding against his ankle bones, biting in deep and forcing the marrow to crack and shatter and explode until it's just a bunch of broken glass-like fragments under his skin. His head feels light and he frantically breathes deeply because he is not going to pass out, he is not going to make it that eas--

He’s cut off by a sudden crashing from behind behind himself: snapping of branches like a wild animal is tearing through them, the crunch of dead leaves steadily getting louder and heavy and deadlier, the swearing that are all tell-tale sounds of Remus crashing directly into someone and both of them eating the dirt as they barrel through the thickets and roll to a stop a few feet away.

Nerdicus jerks back like they were expecting anything less of Remus’s spectacular grand entrance.

Roman bites down on his tongue to stop himself from outright whimpering. Remus, his twin, his mirror image, rolls back to a sitting position like a possessed doll coming to life, untangling his limbs from another crumpled, groaning form that must be some other friend of his, and snapping them back in place because what are limbs to a maniac like him? The setting sun paints him in an eerie light and Roman’s skin itches with equal parts rage and terror at him, for dragging them out there, for putting out bear traps, for doing all this as pay back for a stupid little prank in a prank war he fucking started--

Remus’s laughter is obnoxious as always and Roman tries not to flinch at the sound of it alone, holding back a white wash of fear with just his force of will.

His other friend is another person that Roman hasn’t seen before-- not that he spends a lot of time getting to know the faces of the delinquents that his brother hangs out with. They’ve got on black jeans and a black T-shirt with one of those reversible sequin designs in the shape of a skull. Their blond hair dances in the last dregs of the evening, even as they pull a leaf from their bangs and yanks their dirty yellow beanie back over their head.

“Holy shit!” Remus says, spitting out dirt from his mouth. “Is that a bear trap?”

“Remus!” Roman whimpers with a tight throat. “This isn’t funny!”

“Au contraire! I left you alone for like five seconds and now you’re in a bear trap!” There’s a glint in Remus’s eyes and Roman recognizes it from those times when Remus climbed too high in the trees back at home, when he stared at a growing flame of a match too long, when he reached across the console and yanked on the steering wheel, screaming Roman’s name--

Roman brain pulses to the point where he can feel it knock against his skull and that hurts almost as much as ankle and he swears he sees stars on the backs of his eyelids and he does not want those to be the last stars he ever sees.

Remus swoops towards him and Roman flinches back, nearly screaming when his leg jostles.

“Chill out, Prince Charmless,” his twin says, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna get it off. What’s your range of movement?”

“Do not come any closer to me, you asshole!”

“You can’t get that thing off yourself,” Remus says.

“And whose fault is that?” Roman snaps.

Remus freezes, tilting his head slightly to the side. His rat's nest of hair creates an unearthly silhouette as he looks down at Roman, something straight out his Halloween horror films, and Roman bares his teeth in warning. He’s not thinking about how Remus’s foot can stomp down on his injured, trapped leg, he’s not thinking about how there’s no one around for miles, he’s not thinking about how there’s nothing and no one to stop him from straight out fratricide--

“Why am I suddenly getting the feeling you think I know what the flying fuck is going on here?” Remus asks.

“Don’t you?”

“No!” Remus says, delightedly, happily, cheerfully and his voice makes some distant bird caw. “I thought you snapped and took me to the woods to kill me yourself! This is much more boring now that I know I haven’t managed to break your last shreds of sanity.”

“Why would I--”

“This is ridiculous,” Glasses McGee cuts in sharply, adjusting said glasses with their index finger. “We need to remove your foot from that trap now.” They look at Remus and the other person. “Are either of you knowledgeable about the mechanics of bear traps?”

Remus throws two thumbs up, and Roman remembers vaguely a rant from a year or two ago about unethical bear hunting and steel jaw traps and how animals would step in and then lay there for days suffering as their mangled limb held them captive regardless of them trying to chew it off for freedom and oh god he’s going to be sick--

“Roman,” Remus says somewhere beyond the screaming in his head. “Oh shit.” It sounds like he’s far away and distant, or maybe underwater and Roman is drowning. He can’t seem to breathe anymore, like the teeth biting into his ankles had wrapped around his chest and was slowly crushing him.

People are moving around him, faint voices talking and then suddenly burning blinding white hot pain that shoots all the way up to the back of his eyes.

He screams and bites down only to find there’s something in his mouth-- fibers and the unmistakable taste of wool and Roman nearly gags on it. He blinks back the foggy pain and finds that he’s leaning on Remus and Webster Dick-tionary is pressing a multicolored sweatshirt to his leg delicately with the bear trap fully closed a few feet away, tethered to the ground with a heavy metal chain coated in a red paint that makes Roman’s vision sway all over again. The slushie claws back up his throat and he gags.

There’s someone new standing just behind the nerd: a very pretty person in a pretty skirt and headphones with cat ears on them around his neck. The splash of freckles and the round glasses makes them look a bit younger than the rest of them, but that could also be Roman’s brain twisting things around the moment that they wince in sympathy as the nerd prods part of his ankle.

They’re magnificent, Roman decides with a dizzying certainty. They’re the sun in the middle of this dark and dreadful forest, the stars in the night sky, the lighthouse in the storm guiding Roman back from complete devastation with just those shiny eyes behind cracked lens.

The other person, the one in the black skull shirt, Sid from Toy Story come to life, is standing just behind him and Remus, looking on distastefully from a good distance away. It takes Roman a moment to realize he’s biting down on the guy’s beanie, and gross. He spits it out at the same time as the nerd presses too close to where the trap had caught him.

“Son of a Witch!” He hisses. “A dragon witch, a fucking---”

“Oh, boo,” Remus says. “He’s alive.”

“He was not in any immediate danger of dying,” Space Case says firmly. “And isn’t he your brother?”

“Looks like someone is an only child,” Remus says. The person in black reaches out and snatches back his beanie, his entire face curling into some disgusted expression as they hold the part with Roman’s saliva away from themself.

“Wonderful,” they say in deadpan and stuff the beanie in their back pocket.

Roman blinks, struggling to sit up by himself. He scrubs his face trying to get rid of his tears, and buries that boiling humiliation being the center of attention like this. Of course, he has to be grievously injured for anyone to care about him, for anyone to take a moment to look at him, for anything--

Remus lets him go, stretching up and yawning like nothing about this is weird or strange or scary to him.

Part of Roman is reassured by that. Like, of course Remus isn’t terrified out of his mind; what is there to be scared of when he’s the most terrifying thing in a 100 mile radius? When he handcuffed himself to the doors of the city history museum to protest its demolishment even though the wrecking ball was right there, when he wore a mini skirt to school to protest the dress code even though he’d been beat up for less before, when he marched into the Governor’s office when he was refused a meeting about the rescinding of the pollution standards in the the county and laughed in the face of the armed guards that told him to leave.

Remus had an endless supply of guts and determination and Roman had wished for so long that his reckless bravery could be contained, controlled and banished, but now it kinda felt like Remus slipping a familiar jacket over Roman’s shoulders and telling him to relax.

Google.com-- Roman is seriously running out of names for them-- leans in and tears the new holes in Roman’s jeans further-- Roman grimaces at the thought of having to buy another pair to make up for this, but the nerd expertly uses the excess fabric to tie up his wound with a professional precision.

“Alright, Doc Oct,” Remus says while they work. “What is the diagnosis? Amputation? Do I need a body bag?”

“I just said that he was not in danger of dying,” they say, finishing the knot which only causes Roman to grunt a little bit. “And my name is Logan, if you must know. I am not a full medical doctor by any means, but I believe that he will recover fully; the trap broke skin and there will likely be a nasty amount of bruising deep in the muscle tissue, but he will recover in a few weeks of rest. It will probably be best to keep weight off your foot as much as possible.”

“See, drama queen?” Remus says to Roman, shoving his shoulder. “You’re fine.”

Roman gives him double middle fingers for his trouble and tries not to shake too hard with relief. He stares down at his leg, forcing a steady breath through his lungs and out his nose, and wonders with a dizzying amazement how his leg was not only in one piece but recoverable, after all the pain. He isn’t sure that it’s not just the placebo effect of someone saying that everything’s going to be okay, but he wiggles his toes and swears that the pain only wracks his limb moderately this time.

Even closed, the bear trap looked menacingly at them: Roman’s blood on the jaws that were curled into a ghoulish grin, just waiting for someone to get close enough to open and bite down on. He’s not sure how Remus and the Doctor Doolittle-- Logan-- managed to get it off him.

Logan turns and offers the sweater to the person in the skirt. “Ah, sorry, I’m afraid the blood has…”

Roman sucks in another breath at the sight of it: the bright splotchy blobs of red that bled through the pastel tye dye design that would likely never come out and eternally remain a reminder of how Roman put his foot directly in a bear trap like an idiot-- What would he have done if there was no one around? Died? His own stupidity had ruined such a nice piece of clothing and--

“It’s okay!” The angel says with a somewhat cartoonish voice. Roman blinks in surprise at the sweetness of it, tasting sugar even as the words hold over the air. He swears he can envision their I’s dotted with hearts; a soft and kind tone despite the fact that Roman had ruined their sweater. “I’m much more relieved he’s going to be okay!”

“Let’s not get too excited,” Doctor Doom says, causing Roman to stiffen and Remus to glance back curiously towards them. They’re turned away from the rest of the mismatched, miscellaneous group, looking into the trees with a gaze that makes Roman’s stomach roll over and not in any way that is even remotely good.

“What?”

They glance back at them with an expression something that Roman can only call shifty. Like a snake before it strikes, they’re poised on the balls of their feet, coiled with the power to move at a seconds decision. Untrustable, Undependable, Unkind-- and Roman squares his shoulders just to prove to himself that there isn’t actually a dagger point about to plunge into his back.

The person’s voice is silky smooth, but Roman can’t find it in himself to be jealous when the meaning of the next words hit. “I don’t suppose any of you remember just exactly how we came to be here, do you?”

The woods echo with a strange emptiness, like the trees themselves are holding their breaths. The silence is eerie-- Roman’s never been a forest this quiet. He’s never been anywhere this quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck raise up.

Logan and the shining, shimmering, lovely vision share a look and the former shrugs, occupying their hands with tying their sweater around their waist.

“It’s fuzzy,” they admit, thoughtfully. “I was leaving my dorm...and then…” They grimace, which is downright awful to witness: Roman doesn't think anyone deserves to look so uncomfortable, and certainly not a beauty like them. “...then I was here.”

Logan makes a sour face like he managed to misplace a decimal twenty seven steps back in his math equations. “I was uncharacteristically late to class, but I seem to have some form of amnesia surrounding the hours since then as well; It was just past two.”

Dr. Facilier-turned-teenager turns to Roman, their eyes asking a question they already know the answer to. And part of Roman wants to snarl at them, tell them to knock it off with the creepy aura and better-than-you-expression, explain to them exactly how they ended up all here together because there’s a logical, causal explanation.

But Remus is already laughing. “Oh come on! We were…. What were we doing again?” Remus freezes for a moment, some of the smile leaving his face. “Ro? Where were we…?”

Remus is dressed in another one of his ripped T-shirts, the Save the Turtles one that he wore to that protest a few months ago and when he volunteered to clean up beaches for the weekend. His sleeves are ripped off to show off the endangered Tiger tattoo on his shoulder up to his neck, and his jeans are the recycled ones that he bought second hand and begged Roman to repair rather than buy a new pair and “give his money to the capitalists that are trying to kill us all”.

In comparison, Roman is wearing his letterman jacket, with his name engraved on it that he got for being the announcer for the football team three years in a row. He’s wearing his announcer uniform too-- his hair is styled and his colors are coordinated to the white and red of their school, but Remus never comes to the football games anymore.

Or well, he’s not allowed to come to the games anymore after he stole the tuba from the band players and charged into the field during the game back in their freshman year.

Still he-- remembers… he thinks he remembers... They were in the car together, Remus needed to go somewhere and Roman had to drop him off and then speed off to the game, right? Remus' feet were up on his dashboard, mud flaking off into his freshly cleaned car, his air fresheners weren’t working, they were fighting over the radio, Remus’s hand reached out, latching on to the wheel and a scream--

“Fuck,” Remus says, rubbing the side of his head like Roman had slapped him. “Did you crash our car out here?”

“Me?” Roman says, incredulously.

“Yeah!” Remus says. “Did you get brain damage in the crash too? Are your brains going to fall out? You were the one driving, dumbass.”

“You grabbed my steering wheel!”

Remus snorts. “What? No, I didn’t?”

“Yes you did!”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“I wouldn’t get anything out of--”

“Boys!” Skeletar says, clapping to get their attention. “Less arguing, more answering the question.”

Remus looks at Roman and Roman glares right back because he did not crash the car. Between the two of them Remus was more likely to crash a car-- proven from how he totaled their green Ford Fiesta nine months ago and now even around the pounding headache he can still remember the feeling of surprise as Remus’s sporadic movement jumbled through his own, the yank that caused him to lose control, the-- the--

He doesn’t remember what happened after that, but he knows that then Roman had opened his eyes out here, taken a step forward, and nearly lost his foot to a bear trap.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Logan says. “Even if perhaps you happened to have a car around here, that does not explain how the rest of us came to be here. And likely from the events that you are describing the car is not in functional condition-- although I’m unsure how your persons would have come out of such a thing without a few visible injuries…”

“I didn’t crash the car,” Roman says firmly.

“Oh, like you didn’t step into a bear trap?” Remus asks innocently antagonistically.

“Why are there bear traps out here anyway!” Roman hisses. “Isn’t bear hunting or whatever illeg--”

Roman almost doesn’t hear it: it starts so softly and then it raises in pitch and suddenly it's ringing in the air like cracks in the fragile glass silence. He feels his breath disappear right out of his chest, his body tensing and everyone jerks towards the direction the sound comes from, like they’re expecting to see something out there.

Roman remembers hearing people yell at Remus to get out of the way of the wrecking ball, remembers hearing the teachers snap at him to go change into his gym clothes, remembers the armed guard spitting on Remus’s face, his own shouts turning to something just above an animalistic growl when he told Remus to knock it off, you’re making me look bad.

And still he doesn’t remember hearing anything sound so horrified. So desperate. So despondent.

It is the noise that causes Roman to break out in goosebumps, electricity dancing along his skin causing all of his hairs to raise, and himself to find it suddenly very hard to swallow. Roman is scrambling back before he can remember that his foot should not be moving and he bumps into Logan as he does.

It cuts off short and disappears like someone took a pair of scissors to the sound itself, snipping the scream for help away before it reaches the end.

And Roman doesn’t think anyone is breathing anymore. His heart pounds in his chest, waiting for the rest of it.

The trees cast shadows so deep and dark that not even the moonlight will touch them. Somehow without Roman noticing, the temperature had dropped until the air feels like frostbite licking his exposed skin. Roman doesn’t dare move another inch-- doesn’t like the idea of what might happen if he reminds the rest of the world that time is still passing.

“I…” the person in the skull T-shirt says, in a very low, strangled tone. “I don’t think bears are what's being hunted.”

“No,” Roman says, “No.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna be sick,” the person in the skirt says.

“No!” Roman says, throwing out his arms before his thoughts can catch up. “This is not--”

“We need to leave,” Logan says, face pale. “Now.”

“I think I saw a gate,” Remus said, no hint of his unhinged grin. He thumbs the direction that he and Kaa came from. “I pulled the switch but it didn’t open. I thought about climbing but there are no holds and barbed wire around the top--”

“It’s likely lacking a power source then,” Logan says steadily calm and Roman feels like he’s losing his whole goddamned mind. “Let me take a look at--”

“We are not being hunted right now!” Roman blurts out.

The others stare at him for a solid, endless second and Roman’s stomach threatens to crawl up his throat. He waits for them to agree with him, waits for them to laugh and call it a joke, waits for Remus to tell him he’s so easy to scare, come on Ro, did you really think there was a murderer in these woods? This is grade school level effort!

Roman gets the feeling that he’s going to be waiting a very long time.

“Guys,” Roman says, slightly more wobbly than he means it to, slightly more softer than he means it to, slightly more terrified than he means it to. “We aren’t being hunted for sport, right?”

Because-- Because he’s seen horror movies. And he remembers once how Remus poured a bag of popcorn over his head and said that if they were ever in that situation, he’d leave Roman to rot, maybe even toss him to the killer himself, laugh as Roman screamed and begged and cried.

He doesn’t look at his foot. He doesn’t look at his foot and think about how he can’t run. He doesn't look at his foot and realize that they’re going to leave him behind and no one will ever know what happened to him and no one will care--

Remus is suddenly right in front of him, offering a hand right into Romans face. Roman blinks back the burning tears on his cheeks and looks at the limb with a trembling lip.

“Come on,” Remus says. “You’re a little bitch when you ruin your mascara, Ro.”

And Roman tries to articulate the billions of insults he has in his brain, but all that comes out is a whimper as Remus latches on to his wrist and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles the moment that he tries to put weight on his foot, flickers of pain echoing in his brain although it's not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Remus pulls Roman over his shoulder with his injured leg raised between them and all of his weight on Remus’s shoulders.

“I’m not leaving you behind, dumbass,” Remus says.

((Why wouldn’t he?))

“We need to help them,” the person in the skirt, the good and just and wonderful person in a skirt, says suddenly.

“I don’t think they need our help,” Hans Gruber-minus-the-German-accent says. “In fact, I don’t think they need anything, anymore.”

“How could you say that?!”

“Easily,” they respond, shortly.

The person in the skirt is shaking, Roman realizes. They’re shaking and hugging themself and they look slightly green in the face.

“I came from over there,” they say from behind trembling hands. “I-- I didn’t hear anyone else over there but they must have been there and I-- I can’t--”

“They’re dead,” Dr. Jerkyll says clinically, like a surgeon with a knife. “Us rushing towards that area is only going to get us attacked next. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die, thank you very much.”

“We can’t leave them!” The other argues.

The person in the skull shirt steps towards the other and grabs their upper arm to spin them back to the direction the scream came from. Then with a derisive and terrible sneer, they shove. The cutie in the skirt stumbles forward, nearly face planting on the uneven ground.

“Then you go help them,” they say, with streaks of faint and awful moonlight painting them in a pale halo. They wave back to Logan, Remus and Roman, and Roman feels very much like he doesn’t want to be included in this group all of a sudden. “Don’t drag the rest of us into it.”

“Hey, don’t be a dick!” Roman says, stepping forward and hissing when he places a slight weight on his foot. “What if it were you out there?”

They scoff. “Me? I would never let myself get caught by a psycho murderer in the woods. But if I did, the last thing I would want is my valiant savior to come charging to my rescue and then get slaughtered right beside me like an idiot!”

“I’ll keep that in mind, you slimy snake,” Roman says.

“I bet you will, Hiccup,” they shoot back. “The gate is this way. Try not to step in another bear trap, won’t you?”

“Damn!” Remus says, “You’re a bitch! What’s your opinion on plastic in the sea?”

Roman slaps Remus’s arm and gives him a glare because really? Right now? They’re in the woods, someone just screamed and probably got murdered, they don’t know how to get out, Roman’s injured, and Remus is doing one of his weird flirting attempts.

Great.

The person in the skull shirt at least looks slightly thrown by the question, narrowing their eyes and shaking their head as they turn away as if they can brush off the rest of the group. “The sea turtles are dying.” They say blandly, without a hint of actual emotion. “Oh no. Next time I see one I will give my condolences about it’s mother.”

Remus’s mouth pops open for a retort that Roman knows is going to be bad, but before he can get the words out, there’s a loud sound of cracking branches from behind them. Remus drags Roman back from the area, planting himself in front of Roman like some kind of human shield and Roman wobbles, without anything to put his injured leg on.

“Jesus Christ!” A new voice screams, as they trip over a thicket and fall into the clearing.

They move like a blur; barely more than a shadow with the ungodly amount of black they’re wearing. Roman can make out a pale face, dark bangs and terrified eyes, before the scramble back in the ground leaving… leaving smears of deep red on the ground in front of them. Their flashlight goes flying off to Logan’s feet, but they don’t seem to care as much about that as moving away from whatever is behind them.

The air tastes like metal, like copper, and Roman swears the world sways under him. His heartbeat blares in his ears almost louder than the newcomer’s hysterical sobs.

There’s a thud. And another.

And the trees themselves seem to shake and draw from the shadow that takes form. It peels away from the others, massive, hulking and distorted in all the wrong ways: at some point it must have been human, Roman thinks hysterically. It has two legs and two arms and a torso and a head, but it's elongated towering over even Logan at his ridiculous height. Its skin is covered in soot and dirt, layers upon layers to the point where Roman almost thought that it was wearing some kind of leather armor. It has rubber overalls on, strapped...strapped to its body with metal hooks that catch the thin moonlight peeking out of its bulging bare shoulders in a way that looks…looks self mutilated. The patchy ugly skin is healed around the metal, molded to it, absorbing it. In one hand is a cleaver, cobbled together from various metals with an unfinished touch and dripping scarlet all the way down the handle to its massive hands. Roman thinks that with one hand it could easily crush one of their skulls.

But worse than that, than the blood, than the stench coming from the thing, than the bloodlust that's echoing out of it: worse than all that is the mask welded to its face. A pale white skin that nearly glows in the darkness, framed with jagged sharp edges of bladed teeth in a terror inducing smile. Soulless orbs exist where eyes might have once been: now there are empty voids without a human behind them.

In a slow, almost robotic motion, it raises the cleaver in its hand. Blood rolls down the handle onto it’s hand and Roman watches the bulb of red drip down into the grass right between the newcomer’s sneakers.

Oh, Roman thinks suddenly very clearly without any room for a single doubt, This is what death looks like.

“NO!” The person in the skirt screams and suddenly they shove forward and throw themselves in front of the swing of the cleaver. Roman isn’t sure who screams louder at that: him, the person in the skirt, or the person on the ground bleeding out.

His brain is on fire, every atom in him is screaming so loud that he can’t hear his thoughts. His own breath flees his lungs with abandon that Roman’s brain somehow hadn’t gotten because instead of running away he’s running towards the monster. His blood boils in his veins and he pushes through Remus with the sort of reckless abandonment of sanity he never would have thought he’d ever make.

His vision locks onto the kid on the ground and his fingers latch on their left shoulder and he hauls them back.

The air next to his ear whistles as the cleaver misses them by centimeters and the person in the skirt screams as they fall to the side, and specks of something wet and warm and sticky flings through the air like its a water fountain; Roman feels it splatter across his face and his brain heart thuds in his chest.

Remus appears on his other side, grabbing Roman’s hostage by their other arm and they both pull them to their feet, ignoring the way they scream in pain. Their torso drips ruby into the dead grass at their feet and Roman-- Roman--

The hulking monster in front of them gives his cleaver a shake and drags it over its own arm to wipe away the blood, like it's nothing more than a hindrance. It turns its entire body towards the person in the skirt, the gorgeous selfless angel of a person that Roman hasn’t gotten the name of-- of someone he isn't going to get the same of because the abomination raises the cleaver again.

Roman screams because he does not want to watch someone die, please he doesn’t want to be in this nightmare anymore, wake up wake up wakeup--

There’s a brilliant white light that explodes at the last second. Roman himself jerks away from it, but that’s nothing compared to the inhuman howl that the creature makes as it stumbles back to the edge of the forest, covering its beady eyes with its massive hands.

Logan flicks the flashlight off and grabs the person in the skirt by their uninjured arm and looks back at them only briefly with an air of finality.

“RUN!” He says.

And Roman does.

#dbd au #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #Janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #tw: violence #dead by daylight #Roman is incredibly unlucky #I ran out of nicknames #But heyyyy Virgil's alive!#isn't that great guys? :D #I am trying horror for the first time

10 notes · View notes

featherymalignancy · 4 years ago

Photo

PART ONE — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ❤️

Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before.

This is a two-part story, you can jump to Part Two here. ♥️

The Eyes of Texas, Part ONE

No matter how many times he made the journey, Rowan Whitethorn always found a wonder in returning home. He’d been glued to the window on the plane’s final descent into Maui three days ago, drinking in the sight of the Kahului Bay’s glittering waters and the distant peaks of Haleakalā rising up like silent guardians in the distance. It had only been six months since he’d last been home, but it still made his heart race; he doubted it would ever fail to take his breath away.

It had only gotten better when he’d landed and found not just Cash and Fen waiting for him, but Lorcan as well. The self-proclaimed success story of the friend group, Lor had gotten a full-ride to MIT and graduated with a 4.0 before being recruited to some tech giant in the Silicon Valley. It didn’t matter how times Rowan tried to point out that he himself had needed a recommendation from a US Senator to get into the Naval Academy; Lor would simply start rattling off college rankings and acceptance rates until Rowan conceded defeat just to shut him up.

Even though they lived down the California coast from one another, Rowan rarely got to see Lor. So far as any of them could tell, Lorcan’s whole life was his job, and despite his obscene salary, he rarely took days off, let alone vacations. So for him to come to see Rowan play in the tournament--Ro didn’t think he needed to tell his friend what it meant to him. Not that it would have mattered if he had; the only thing Lor wasn’t good at was talking about his feelings. A likely culprit for why he didn’t have a girlfriend, considering their friend Essar had once dubbed him “the hottest man on all eight islands”.

From the airport they’d driven across the island in Cash’s beater pick-up, Rowan in the cab and Lor and Fen riding in back. It had reminded Rowan of old times, of being 18 and carefree. It reminded him of life before his mom had died, before the Academy and his naval service, before Lyria and the cancer and all the heartache that had come after.

Sitting in the truck, the radio blasting and Cash’ squawking tunelessly along with it, Rowan had felt more himself than he had in months. The stress of studying for the detective’s exam had been wearing on him more than he’d realized, and in that moment it had struck him how badly he’d needed this distraction. A glance at Cash had told him his friend was thinking the same thing.

Cash had been Rowan’s best friend since before he could honestly remember, and despite Lor’s obnoxious declarations to the contrary, Cash was hands-down the smartest person Rowan knew. It had come as a surprise, then, when they’d all started growing up and talking about college and Cash had shown no interest. Neither had Fen, but that Ro had expected. The free spirit of the lot, he seemed perfectly content to stay at home and work odd jobs so long as he could still surf every day. But Cash...he’d always seemed a little lost to Ro. Just a late bloomer, his mother had always insisted. Some of the best people take the longest to develop. Still, Rowan had assumed that now that they were in their mid-twenties, Cash would have figured it out. As far as he knew, though, Cash was still working at the same stuffy restaurant he’d worked at when they were teenagers, though he’d thankfully graduated from a dishwasher to a server and an occasional bartender.

As if he’d known what Ro had been thinking, Cash turned to grin at him, a secret smile that traditionally had spelled trouble, getting grounded, and occasionally running from the police.

“I have some news,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “Remind me to tell you later.”

Ro had meant to ask the minute they’d gotten back to the house, but suddenly there was a shot in his hand and everything else had faded away. They’d partied all night and well into the next day, a decision he’d regretted when they’d all piled onto the ferry to Waikiki for the tournament. Thankfully they’d still had half a day to recover at the hotel before the tournament began, though the trip had gotten decidedly less restful when they’d arrived to find Remy waiting for them, already pissed off.

According to his friends, Remelle St. James was Rowan’s greatest sin. They’d dated on-and-off through high school in what Cash had generously described as a slow-burning dumpster fire, but had lost touch after Ro had left for the Naval Academy and Remy accepted a scholarship to play volleyball at UC Irvine. It was only after Lyria’s diagnosis, and—a devastatingly short six months later—her death that Rowan and Remelle reconnected. For all her other faults, Remy had also lost a sister to cancer young, and she’d been there to counsel Rowan through the worst of his grief.

Her romantic pursuit of him the following year was admittedly less admirable, and Rowan had been quick to lessen his connection to her when it became clear what she wanted from him. Still, that had been almost a year ago, and when she’d called to suggest he come to Hawaii and play in this invitational with her, it had been an offer he couldn’t refuse. Remy was one of the best amateur players on the circuit, having just missed the opportunity to play professionally on the AVP tour the previous year. It was why she’d called, she claimed. This tournament was a great way to get exposure, and mixed doubles was a much higher profile division than that of female twos.His friends, on the other hand, had immediately called bullshit.

“As much as I want to see you,” Fen had said when Rowan had first called with her proposal. “She’s playing you, brother. No offense, but there are tons of guys here she could recruit if she wanted. She asked you because, once again, she’s trying to dig her claws in.”

“Hate to agree,” Cash had chimed in. “But he’s totally right. She just wants in your board shorts.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m good enough to win?” Rowan had countered.

He could picture Cash rolling his eyes from 2,500 miles away.

“Of all the things we just said, how was that your takeaway?”“I never get to play anymore,” Rowan had admitted. “And I miss it. I think I’m just going to do it.”

“In that case, can’t wait to see you, brother.”

And that had been that. It had seemed a great idea up until he’d spotted Remy glowering at him in the lobby yesterday, and now, in the midst of the fourth set of the semifinal match, he was wondering if his friends hadn’t been right.

Game Point, he reminded himself. Just one more point and they’d be in the finals. Just one more point and he could take a blessed break from Remy and all her castigations.He stretched a hand behind him as Remy stepped back to serve, flashing two fingers to signal he would be blocking cross. He could hear her huff of disapproval even with his back to her. They’d been having problems with their coverage all game, and though Rowan could have very reasonably argued it was because of Remy’s defense, she’d blamed his position on the block.

“What’s the point of being a giant,” she’d snarled after the last point they’d lost. “If you can’t shut a hitter down at the net?”

“I’m trying to force the spot you keep saying you want,” he’d snapped back. “Maybe after this game you might want to look into a digging clinic.”

He heard the snap as the ball was served, tracking his opponents through the net as they received. It was a less than stellar pass from the guy, and though the set his teammate gave him was decent, Ro could see the swing was going to be exactly where he wanted it.

He lingered to the left until the last moment, feigning a block that would force the hit line. He struck just as the hitter began to make contact, taking a quick step to the right before exploding up. Rowan could feel in the way his muscles uncoiled that it had been a perfect jump, and he turned his face away to avoid a broken nose as his hands made contact with the ball. He could tell from the sound alone how dominating a block it had been, and he wasn’t surprised as he watched the ball fall into the sand on the opposite court, it’s angle so punishing there had been no chance for a defense.

The gathering crowd erupted in cheers, and Rowan turned to Remy in celebration, only to find her lips pursed.

“Nice block. I hope this means you’re going to actually listen to me next match.”

Too annoyed to respond to that, Rowan turned to shake hands with the opposing team before stalking past Remy to where his friends were lounging. Unsurprisingly, she was right on his heels, pushing the water bottle he’d about to take a sip from away and scowling at him.“I told you that you needed to be more aggressive on the block,” she said. “Would it honestly kill you to admit I’m right?” “Every block can’t be a roof, Rem! You need to be quicker at reading the coverage or we are going to lose in the finals.”

Remy crossed her arms.

“You’re just mad because you don’t have the stamina to keep jumping like that.”

“Don’t start with me about stamina,” Rowan said. “For someone who is hoping to get on the tour, you’re lagging on defense.”

Rowan was unsurprised when she reached back and slapped him in the face, though the blow had admittedly come fast enough that he hadn’t had time to avoid it.

“You’re an ass,” Remy snarled, tears in her eyes.

Once, that might have been enough to get him to soften his tone. After ten years of dealing with her gaslighting, he was now sure that they were manufactured.

“Do not do that again,” he said in a quiet voice. At this more tears welled, and she reached up to touch his face, her small palms resting on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to his lips. “I’m just--there’s a lot riding on this for me.”

“Our next match is in twenty minutes,” Rowan said, peeling her hands off of him. “Get some water and walk it off.”

She seemed put out at the dismissal, but she must have known she had little recourse to argue after slapping him, so she simply nodded and turned away, giving his friends a hateful look for good measure before stalking off. Fen watched her go with unveiled distaste before turning to Rowan and shaking his head.

“Dude, I know I’m gay, but I will never understand what you see in that girl. She straight sucks.”

Cash bubbled his lips in agreement.

“There’s nothing to see,” Lor said. “She’s a fucking nightmare.”

“Here, here,” Cash said, and Rowan rolled his eyes.“We’ve been playing together forever,” he protested. “And Remy knows we aren’t...seeing each other anymore.”

“Does she?” Lor drawled. “Just because you’re not banging her right now doesn’t mean she’s done with you, Whitethorn. Remelle St. James is not a girl you can just walk away from.”

“We’re twos partners, not soulmates,” Ro said. “And if playing with Remy means winning this tournament, I don’t really care what you jackasses think of it, or of her.”

“The sets cannot be worth it,” Lorcan drawled, sounding bored.

“She’s the best amateur female player in this tournament,” Rowan snapped back.

“Please,” Fen said. “She’s barely in the top five.”

“And who’s number one, then?”

Fen grinned, dark eyes fiendish.

“You haven’t heard? There’s a chick here from the University of Texas, and apparently she’s—”

“Holy shit,” Cash interrupted, eyes skating over Rowan’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Rowan turned in time to watch the hottest woman he’d ever seen saunter towards them. She was taller than average—easily exceeding six feet—and corded with a sleek musculature that would have heralded her as a volleyball player even if they weren’t at a tournament. Her gorgeously tanned legs went on for an eternity, and he felt his mouth go dry at seeing the minuscule bikini bottoms she wore, the burnt orange Lycra hugging a toned ass that told him she probably had a damn good vertical. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and braided in the popular style, and when she turned to smirk at him in a flash of pearly teeth and dazzling blue eyes, he felt a little weak.

“Goddamn,” Cash said, interrupting Rowan’s reverie. “She is fucking gorgeous.”

“That’s her,” Fen said. “From UT. Aelin Galathynius. Ro, I hope you and Remy can pull it together for this match. Otherwise this girl is gonna fuck you up.”

They all watched as she trotted onto the court, bending over in a stretch Rowan was afraid was going to make his board shorts too tight.

“God lord, she is perfect,” Cash said, tilting his head slightly to better admire her well-formed assets.Rowan felt a prickle of irritation at his friend's appraisal, but before he could address it, or—more realistically—dismiss it, Lor gave an unimpressed snort.

“She’s too tall.”

“I don’t understand how a guy pushing seven feet can have a maximum height restriction for the women he dates,” Fen said.

Lor only shrugged with a smirk, but Rowan was barely listening. He felt another twinge of displeasure zip down his spine as he watched a muscular blonde frat star stride onto the court towards the Galathynius girl, who beamed at seeing him.“That her boyfriend?” He asked, trying not to sound overly put-out by the idea.

“Cousin, I think,” Lor said, expression gloriously bored. “Aedion Ashryver. I played him in a tournament in Miami last year. He’s marginally above average.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Fen said, earning only an eye roll in response.They watched as Ashryver took several exploratory swings, Aelin working out her wrists as he did. Rowan admired her flawless form as she gave her cousin a tight set and he crushed the ball into a sand on a punishing downward trajectory.

“Nice hands,” Cash said, eyes alight with appreciation as she shot Aedion a quick set to a similarly successful result.

“I can block him,” Rowan said, trying to read Aedion’s form for flaws. “He’s swinging hard, but he’s hit that same spot every time.”

��That’s not going to be enough on its own,” Lor said dryly. “Your best bet is to force Galynthius to receive first then shut her down on the block. I bet her swing is weak.”

“That opinion is completely baseless,” Cash said. “You have no idea what her swing is like.”

“I know that cocky assholes are never as good as they are obnoxious,” Lorcan retorted, gesturing to the Galythinius girl again.She’d seemed to have taken note of their attention, hands on her hips as surveyed Rowan from head to toe. Something about the way she looked at him—her tongue tucked almost suggestively into her cheek—had pleasant goosebumps breaking out on his arms.

Given her brazen assessment, Rowan felt justified in studying her as well, trying to school his expression into that of a player sizing up an opponent for weaknesses. In reality, he was just admiring her.The sports bra she wore did nothing to minimize her gorgeously firm tits, and her stomach was an alluring tapestry of muscle, the smooth bronze skin unblemished save for the corner of a tattoo which peaked out from the top of her bikini bottoms. From it’s color and shape, Rowan thought it might be a flag, though he couldn’t see enough of it to tell which country. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined peeling the offending garment off her and getting a better look. Rowan tried to get his mind right as Aelin Galynthius gave him a smouldering grin and turned away, but he was still so caught up in her that he flinched when he felt Remy’s fingers trailing down his back.

“You ready, babe? Let’s do this.”Rowan definitely debated telling her not to call him that, but not wanting to reignite the tension when they were so close to winning he simply nodded and headed towards the court to warm up as well.

“Good luck, champ,” Fen said. “Make sure you find out if she’s single for Cash.”

Rowan flipped him off and jogged onto the court, trying to ignore the way Aelin Galynthius’s eyes raked him appreciatively as he passed her.

Still relatively loose from the previous match, Rowan sped through warm-ups, not wanting to give the Ashryvver cousins too much insight into his skill level. When they were done, the tournament organizer came over to congratulate the four of them on their place in the finals before briefly running through the rules.

“There will be a line judge to settle any disputes, but you’re mostly expected to police yourself. We’re all adults here, so I expect everyone to behave like it.”

At this the Ashryvver cousins exchanged a mirthful look that failed to go unnoticed by any of the assembled. Rowan could feel Remy bristling beside him. She only grew more rigid when Aelin let her dazzling blue eyes slide to Rowan and she winked.

“It’s best of five this match, first to twenty-five, win by two, cap at 30. Switch on hard sevens. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Aedion said, a bronzed grin stretching wide enough to reveal dimples in his cheeks. “When we win, am I going to get lei-ed?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, fighting down a searing stab of annoyance. Ethnically, his family may not have been kānaka maoli, but Rowan had lived in Hawaii his entire life, and the culture was important to him. Why wasn’t he surprised that this haole douchebag had just gone for the most tired pun in existence?

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told Ashryvver. “The losers don’t get shit.”

At this, Galathynius laughed, the sound low and musical.“I love a man who knows how to dream big.”

“Shall we?” The coordinator cut in, his gaze flitting between Aelin and Remy, who Rowan presumed was scowling.

They nodded and he flipped a coin, which Rowan called in the air.

“Heads.”The shaggy-haired coordinator extended his arm to show them the gleaming head of Sacagawea on the gold dollar coin.

“We’ll serve,” Rowan said, forcing himself to shake Aedion Ashryvver’s hand as he did.

Enough of this bullshit, he was ready to beat this punk into the dusk. He was also ready to put some distance between himself and Aelin Galathynius before her beauty robbed him of any good sense. Together or no, Remy would have his balls on the grill if he openly flirted with someone else in front of her, and it was a complication he couldn’t afford this close to victory.

It was easier said than done when Aelin slid her hand into his, squeezing in a way that felt oddly suggestive. However, it only lasted a second before she was turning on her heel and strutting to her side of the court.

“Good luck,” she said over her shoulder, brushing the long tail of her braid down her back. “You’re going to need it.”

Remy growled something that sounded suspiciously like “bitch” as she took her place behind the serving line. Rowan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod as he made his way towards the net, hand stretched behind him to give Remy the block signal.

Aelin Galathynius grinned at him through the net, blue eyes glittering before she slid on a pair of sunglasses.

“So,” she said as Remy continued to prepare. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

There was a pleasant cadence to her voice when she spoke, the trace of an accent he couldn’t quite place.

“Trying to get in my head?” he shot back, willing himself not to fall for her tantalizing games.

Aelin gave a sultry laugh.

“More like your pants.”

At this he heard the snap of the ball being served, and he swore as he watched it sail into the net. It wasn’t like Remy to make service errors, but the dirty look she gave him as he retreated to receive Aedion’s serve told him she considered it his fault.

“Are you done flirting,” she hissed as he passed her. “Can we focus on winning now?”

Rowan longed to snap back a retort that he hadn’t been flirting and she was the one who seemed to be lacking focus, but by this time Aedion was behind the line, preparing to serve. Rowan watched the toss and adjusted his position the minute Aedion made contact, easily receiving the ball. He called for a hit outside, but Remy’s set drew him into the interior of the court instead, almost as if she were trying to pull him away from Aelin.

Adjusting his position, Rowan swung. It was Aelin who received the dig and Rowan quickly retreated along the net, ready to stuff her on the block. He was in the perfect position to cut off the diagonal hitting lane, leaving her to either tap it over—an easy receive for him—or shoot line. Rowan thought of what Lorcan had said about her weak swing as she approached, and part of him hoped she would attempt a cross so he could show her how it was done.

He crouched, muscles burning in anticipation to spring up and stuff the ball right back in Aelin Galathynius’s smug face.

Except, he didn’t.

Aelin exploded into the air as the ball reached her, her vertical impreeven given her height. In a flick of her wrist, she’d tattooed the ball right down the undefended right line. Remy made a dive for it, but Rowan could tell from the minute Aelin had hit it that it was a point.

It was—she was—

Rowan shook his head, slightly dazed. Whatever skill Rowan had expected from her, she’d just blown right past it. She was phenomenal.And what was more, she knew it. When Rowan had finally gathered his wits enough to glance at her, it was to find her grinning back.

“Welcome to the majors, Big Boy,” she purred, and Rowan couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or throttle her as he retreated back to his receive position.

Ashryvvers: 1 Remy & Ro: 0.

Rowan’s warring aggravation and admiration raged on all through the first set, which he and Remy lost...badly.He tried to ignore his friends’ jeers as he retreated to hydrate before the second set began, trying to analyze Aelin’s game for flaws.The problem was, there were none, at least that he could see.

“So what’s she like?” Fen asked as Rowan took another sip of gatorade. “Seems like you two were really hitting it off out there.”

“Annoying,” Ro replied. “She’s got Remy all riled up.”

Remy had refused to speak to Rowan after the set, and she was currently standing alone in the middle of the court, glaring daggers at the Ashyrvver cousins.

“Like I said,” Lor said in a dry voice. “That she-demon has plans for you. She doesn’t like that Galathynius is moving in on what she sees as her turf.”

“What are you even talking about ‘turf’?”

“I think he means your dick, man,” Cash added, grinning when Rowan turned to glower.

“I do,” Lor said.

“I’m not sleeping with either of them,” Rowan said, trying to reassure himself.

“Sure you aren’t,” Fen said, shooting Lorcan and Cash a conspiratorial wink. “Do you mind if I quote you on that in my best man’s speech? Aelin seems like a girl who appreciates irony.”

“You aren’t going to be his best man,” Cash said. “Obviously it’s going to be me.”

“Ro can’t choose a best man who's already slobbered over his bride,” Lor pointed out. “So it has to be me.”

“It will be none of you,” Rowan said. “Because I would never marry a girl like that.”

Cash gave a bemused laugh.“Like what, gorgeous?”

“Athletic?” Fen added.

“Sharp-tongued?”

“Talented?”

Rowan growled.

“Remind me why I bother with any of you,” he said, tossing his empty bottle to Cash before jogging on the court.

One good thing about his friends’ teasing: it had fired him up. Even with Remy obviously still mad at him, he dominated in the second set, and the third. Between both Ashryvvers’ ability to jump and play defense, he never managed a clean kill—the kind he normally wracked up by the dozens against other, lesser opponents. Still, it was enough.

Unfortunately, Aelin continued to make comments and give him sly looks even as the score turned against her, and Rowan could feel it wearing on Remy. By the fourth set, Remy was visibly flustered, the sizable lead Rowan had given them late in the game shrinking as Remy continued to make useless mistakes.Rowan fought not the swear on game point as Remy went against Aelin on the block and was smoked.

“Lucky shot,” Remy said as she was forced to shake Aelin’s hand to signal the end of the set. Aelin flashed Remy a taunting smirk that Rowan could tell meant trouble, and he debated the merits of interfering just as Aelin said, “There was nothing lucky about that, and we both know it. Please don’t embarrass yourself.”

“You think you’re better than me?” Remy demanded.

Aelin only laughed.

“No,” she said.

Rowan may have relaxed at hearing that, but before he could Aelin added, “I know I’m better than you.”

Remy turned, lip curling up.

“Not what the scoresheet says.”

Aelin pushed the sport sunglasses she was wearing on top of her head, presumably so Remy could see her roll those sparkling azure eyes, ringed at the iris with pure gold.

“I think we all know why the score looks like it does,” Aelin shot back, pausing to give Rowan a bone-melting smile.

Honestly, there was so much sexual charisma in it that he had to actively fight his body’s natural reaction. His brain might not have been a fan of Aelin Galathynius, but his cock sure was.

Remy jammed her hands onto her hips, the rage in her eyes cold enough to burn as she stared Aelin down. Rowan, she ignored.

“I don’t need him,” she snapped.

Aelin smirk went slightly wicked.

“Good, then you won’t mind when I take him home later and give him the ride of his life. After my cousin and I bury you in this match and win the tournament, that is.”

Aelin flashed her pearly teeth in a razored smile, letting it rake over Remy before falling on Rowan. He should have been insulted by her objectification, but in reality it just turned up the tension that had been simmering between them since the match had begun.

Remy’s answering laugh was cold, and Rowan braced for impact. Despite her bravura, he doubted the Galathynius girl understood what she was starting. Remy could be downright cruel when provoked, and the gleam in her eye told him she was preparing to go from the jugular.

“As if he’d be interested in a flat-chest, loud-mouthed cunt like you.”

At this Aedion growled, the first serious emotion Rowan had seen him display all day.

“Hey,” he snapped. “Watch your mouth.”

“That’s enough, Rem,” Rowan cut in. “We didn’t come here to talk trash.”

Remy turned, sneering.

“She started it.”

“That can’t honestly be the retort you’re going with,” Aelin said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I expected better from you, short stack.”

At 5’9, Remy was above-average height for a woman, but compared to Aelin’s towering frame she looked positively impish, a fact Rowan knew probably filled her with rage. She wasn’t used to being looked down on the court, either physically or metaphorically.

Rowan caught her around the waist a second before she lunged, causing Aelin to laugh.

“You’re a bitch,” Remy snapped.

“I’ve been called worse by better,” Aelin said, tossing the ball to Remy with no small amount of force. “Better luck next time.”

Remy let out a small grunt as the ball knocked some of the wind out of her, but she seemed determined not to give Aelin any more than that. Tossing the ball to the ground, she made a show of storming off.

At this Aelin turned to her cousin, cocking her head back in Remy’s direction.

“Voy a destruirla.”

Aedion laughed and gave a longer response in the same language, and Rowan found his eyes trailing down to Aelin’s tattoo again. At this close distance he could clearly see the white star set into a red triangle, inverted by the position of the tattoo.

The Cuban flag.

Good god, and he thought she’d been distracting before. Knowing that she spoke Spanish…

When he glanced up it was to find Aelin grinning.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, running the column of her braid through her fist in a way that had him inevitably imagining her wrapping her hands around something else. “They don’t make gringas this gorgeous.”

“Is this your strategy?” Rowan shot back, desperate to find his footing with her. “Work my partner into a frenzy so we’ll lose?”

Aelin laughed, though her gaze had chilled somewhat.

“I don’t need tricks to beat you, handsome. I think I’ve already proven that.”

“At yet that match is still all tied up, two sets a piece.”Aelin and Aedion exchanged a dangerous smile.

“Maybe I just wanted to prolong the match so I could spend more time with you,” she said. “Clearly I shouldn’t have bothered. Try not to be too embarrassed by what comes next, mi amor. It’s going to get ugly.”

“I can handle it,” Rowan shot back before adding, “And you.”

Far from seeming unnerved, Aelin preened a bit at that, clearly pleased by the challenge.

“Prove it, big boy,” she said, hands on her hips as she squared up to him.

He took a step in her direction, standing toe-to-toe with her now even with the net still between them. She may have been tall for a female, but at 6’6 he still had to tilt his chin down slightly to meet her eye.

“I intend to,” he said. “Repeatedly.”

She bit her lip at this, the first blush he’d seen burnishing her beautiful bronze skin.

“Basta, Aelin,” Aedion called, cocking his head. “Dale.”

“Good luck, Hulk Smash,” Aelin told Rowan, turning on her heel towards her cousin.

Rowan couldn't’ find the good sense to move his feet as she sauntered off to join her cousin, the two of them bantering back and forth in rapid Spanish. Cash was going to die when he found out Aelin was Cuban.

Half-Brazilian himself Cash worshipped Latin women, and for the most part, they—like most women—worshipped him right back.

Ro tried not to let the idea of Cash and Aelin hitting it off bother him as he continued to watch the Ashryvver cousins. Perhaps Aelin would be immune to Cash’s easy charm, though Rowan had to admit it was unlikely. Unlike Rowan, who often came off dour despite his best efforts, Cash was engaging and almost impossible to dislike. More likely than not, Aelin Galathynius would take one look at that million-watt smile and enviable head of dark hair and forget she’d even met Rowan.

The thought was surprisingly irritating, and Ro forced himself to put it aside as the line judge called for the final match to begin. He glanced around in time to see Remy striding back onto the court, her expression more neutral than when she’d stormed off.

“Ready?” he asked simply.Her eyes blazed with a determination she’d lacked since the Ashryvver cousins had gotten in her head.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s end this.”

Something in her bearing had changed, and Ro felt adrenaline surging through him.

This was the player who’d dominated in the matches leading up to this one; this was the teammate who was going to help him shut the Ashryvver’s down once and for all.

They lost the initial coin flip and the Ashryvvers elected to serve, Aelin blowing him a kiss as she stepped behind the line. Rowan ignored her.He had bigger fish to fry.

She had a punishing jump serve that stung Ro’s arms as he received, but he still managed a decent pass, and the set Remy gave him was damn near perfect. Aedion and Aelin shifted as the former dropped back for coverage and the latter prepared for the block. She’d yet to stuff Rowan, but he couldn’t deny she had hops enough to cause him real problems if he wasn’t careful.Still, the set had drawn Aelin farther into the court than he could tell she liked, leaving the line undefended. Rowan intentionally approached at an angle as if he meant to swing cross before changing his body position last minute and aiming line.

Aelin jumped, but her effort was futile. Her left hand just missed the ball, which sailed down the line and struck deep.Rowan’s first kill of the entire match.He couldn’t help a glance down at Aelin as he smiled.

“Welcome to the big leagues, Galathynius.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, but she offered no retort as she retreated to Aedion, switching to Spanish presumably to discuss strategy.

With Remy more in the game, she and Ro got out to an early lead, a fact that he could tell filled Aelin with fiery displeasure. As hard as he was swinging, Rowan had finally figured out Aedion’s swing, and though Aelin tried to move him around the court with her sets to avoid Rowan’s block, they were finding only middling success.

Rowan didn’t permit himself to think too much about it as they steadily racked up points, but when he looked up to find the score was 24 - 18, his pulse sped up.

It was match point.

One more point, he told himself. One more point and he and Remy would have won the whole damn thing. It was so close he could almost taste it.Still, as he watched Aelin take note of the same thing, her blue eyes flashing, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. Aedion finally managed a kill the next point, and when Aelin stepped back to serve, everything in her posture signaled danger ahead.

Rowan watched the ball spin as she tossed it in the air, timing her jump to perfection. Remy adjusted to defend the line, but the ball unexpectedly hit the top of the net instead, the force of the blow pushing the ball over onto their court. Remy dove for it but it was no use; it was in the sand even before he hit the ground.

24 - 20.

Aelin gave a self-satisfied smirk as Remy tossed the ball back to her.

“Dare you to do that again,” she snapped, and Aelin’s smile only widened.

Tossing the ball, she did just that. The ball hit the tape and fell in the same spot, proving it wasn’t a lucky shot. She’d clearly practiced utilizing the net, and now it had cost them back-to-back aces.

24 - 21.

Remy gave a small scream of frustration as she went down hard for a second time, brushing sand out of her hair and off her face as she glared at a preening Aelin. She readjusted closer to the net lest Aelin try the tricks third time, her body poised to spring. Except Aelin didn’t try it a third time. She aimed for the back corner instead, tattooing the ball into the space Remy had just abandoned.

“Goddamnit!” Remy snarled, storming towards Rowan. “Switch me.”

24 - 22.

Repositioning again, Rowan was blessedly able to receive her fourth serve, Remy’s set putting him tight on the net. He’d expected Aedion to cover him but in a flash Aelin was there instead, exploding upwards just as he made contact.He heard the snap of the ball against skin, and only had time to cast a hand out blindly as the ball came back onto his side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough for Remy to get to.

Aelin beamed as Rowan turned to gawk at her. It was rare at his height and speed that he got stuffed on the block. Even Aedion, who was close to his height, hadn’t managed it.

24 - 23.

“I told you it was going to get ugly,” Aelin purred. “I don’t make idle promises.”

“You’re still behind,” Rowan said, but Aelin only smiled.

“But we have the momentum,” she said. “And chiquita looks like she’s running scared.”

A glance at Remy told Rowan Aelin was right; she looked flustered, and when she caught Rowan looking at her she scowled.

“Let’s just finish this,” she said. “Sideout. No quarter.”

If they scored now, they’d win the match. But if Aelin and Aedion got more up on them, it would force at least two more points as they had to win by two.

Aelin only chuckled at this, heading back to the serving line for a fifth time. She served a floater this time, the lack of spin on the ball sending it sailing over the net at an unpredictable angle. Remy received, and after Rowan put her slightly too close to the net, Aedion stuffed the ball back in her face.

24 - 24.

The next point Aelin won on a deep roll shot to the right corner, and suddenly it was match point in the opposite direction.

24 - 25, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Thankfully this time, Rowan and Remy were ready. Rowan went head to head with Aedion on the block and won, earning only his third kill of the entire match.

25 - 25.

The next point was a service error from Remy after she attempted to tickle the tape the same way Aelin had, resulting in another scream of frustration.

25 - 26, match point for the Ashryvvers again.

Rowan gave Remy a set off the net and she managed to catch Aelin off-balance for a rare shank from the blonde.

26 - 26.

Aedion shot Aelin a quick set to the middle and she had the ball in the sand before Rowan could even react.

26 - 27, match point for the Ashryvvers.Service error from Aedion after a bad toss for his jump serve.

27- 27.

Rowan wiped sweat from his eyes as he tried not to dwell on the score. With a cap at 30, there were only a possibility of four more points either way. He let out a steadying breath as he stepped up to serve. Aiming deep, he caught Aedion in an awkward position that resulted in an unredeemable pass.

28 - 27, match point for Rowan and Remy.

One more, Ro told himself. One more just like that and they would have won.He aimed for the same spot only to realize that Aedion and Aelin had switched positions, and where Aedion was powerful but cumbersome in the sand, Aelin was lightning fast. She managed the receive Aedion couldn’t, and when Aedion set her tight, she crushed the ball cross-court, right into the corner.

Remy threw up her hands, beaming.

“Out!” she said. “It’s out. That’s the match! Ro, we won!”

However, Rowan could tell in her bearing something was off, and he let his eyes flit to the line judge to investigate. The man came over just as Remy made a move to casually swipe at the sand with her toe, and he gestured to the imprint of a ball still visible in the sand.

“In,” he said, giving Remy a warning look as the Ashryvvers murmured to one another. “Point to the Ashryvvers.”

28 - 28.

Rowan tried not to tense at the realization Remy had been willing to cheat. It set his teeth on edge, and served as a reminder why he normally kept his distance from her. It was a rule he’d have to remember after today.

Aelin stepped up to serve with an unkind smile twisting at her full mouth, and tattooed the same deep corner she’d just hit. The line judge--not waiting for Remy’s assessment this time, ruled it in.

28 - 29, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Unfortunately, Aelin miscalculated as she attempted to hit the same spot with her next serve, and this time it was ruled out.

29 - 29, the final match point.

Whoever won the next point would win the set and the match. One point to decide who would be the tournaments champs and who would be the losers.

Rowan’s could see the same thought in Aelin’s eyes as the both approached the net, Rowan’s hand stretched behind his back to signal his block to Remy.

“So,” Aelin said as Remy went through her pre-serve ritual. “Where are you taking me to celebrate after?”

Rowan flashed her a feral grin.

“Didn’t take you for a girl who celebrates her losses.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But buy me a few congratulatory drinks when I win and maybe I’ll show you what type of girl I really am.

”Rowan heard the short whistle to signal Remy was asking for a re-toss on her serve, and he focused his attention back on Aelin momentarily.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

She bit her lip, eyes falling unmistakably to his cock. Her gaze was like a fist around his dick, and he had to fight back a groan.

“You know exactly what it means,” she said.

At that moment Remy served the ball, saving Rowan from his pitiful lack of retort. He forced himself to refocus as Aedion received, trying to forget the offer of casual sex Aelin had just thrown onto the table. Or perhaps she was just teasing him, trying to get under his skin so he’d forget what he was doing.Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t so easily rattled. Tracking Aedion as he received the ball and swung, Rowan forced him cross on the block. Remy returned with no issue, and Rowan’s muscles coiled in anticipation as Aelin dug the ball. Aedion set was right where Rowan now knew Aelin preferred it.

She swung hard but met his block, and just when Rowan started to think he’d won the point, she threw out a hand on blind instinct, sending the ball back up into the air on her side of the court. Instantly Aedion was there to feed her a quick set, and Aelin swung again just as hard.

Again Rowan jumped and managed to block her, and again she recovered.

Breathing hard, she approached a third time, exploding upwards at the same time Rowan did. This time, however, she pivoted mid-air, managing to avoid his outstretched hands and send the ball careening down.

Everything seemed to slow as Rowan turned to watch Remy dive for the ball, but it was too late; it had already hit the sand.

That was it; game, set, match.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the line judge made the official designation, and Aelin beamed.

“Nice game,” Rowan told her, stretching his hand out to her. “I thought I had you.”

Her smile only widened, eyes glittering as she tugged off her glasses and slid her palm into his to shake.

“Play your cards right and you still might.”

Rowan opened his mouth--though to say what, he wasn’t sure. Before he could formulate a response, he felt the brush of a hand down his back as Remy appeared at his side.

“Congratulations,” she said coolly, her arm slithering around Rowan’s waist now even as he subtly tried to peel her off. Undeterred, Remy tightened her grip as her eyes flitted to Aelin’s tattoo.

“Not bad for a pair of--”

“I would think very carefully before you finish that sentence,” Aelin warned in a soft, dangerous tone. “And take your hands off him; he’s clearly not interested.”

Remy scowled.

“That is none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you started manhandling him in front of me. He’s too polite to embarrass you, but I’m not. Keep your hands to yourself.”

At this Remy loosened her grip a bit, even as she turned to glare up at Rowan.

“Are you serious going to let her speak to me like that?” she demanded.

“She’s not wrong,” Rowan said, wishing they could do this without an audience. “We’ve talked about this before.”

Remy only gave a cold laugh.

“Oh I see. Some slut offers to suck your dick and suddenly you have no loyalty. You’re a pig, Rowan.”

“Don’t call her a slut,” Rowan said, losing patience. “And stop acting like this is anything new between us.”

At this Aelin huffed a laugh, and Remy snarled.

“You are a miserable bitch, and you fucking deserve each other.”

At this she stormed off, and Aelin turned her bronzed grin on Rowan.

“She’s lovely,” she said. “You make a charming couple.”

“We’re not together,” he said uselessly.Their exchange just now had already made that clear.

“I know,” Aelin said, waggling her eyebrows as she gave him another suggestive up-down. “Lucky me.”

Rowan debated for half a second if he actually wanted to take this girl up on her tantalizing offer, even knowing it could never be anything more. After this weekend he would go back to Los Angeles to continue studying for the detective’s exam and she, presumably, would return to school in Texas. It wasn’t just the distance, either. Something about the idea of a one-night stand with her left him feeling a bit hollow. He’d gone through a ‘casual sex’ phase in the dreary months and years after losing Lyria, and now mindless hook-ups--even with a girl as hot as Aelin--had lost their luster. Besides, Aelin seemed like a girl who deserved better.

On the other hand, Rowan was only human, and goddamn him, there was a part of him which very much wanted to accept. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined stripping off Aelin’s bikini and teasing her until she begged for his cock. As dominant as she was on the court, something wicked told him she would be submissive in bed.

However, before he could make a decision either way Aedion appeared, flashing Rowan a cocky grin as they shook hands before throwing Aelin over his shoulder and jogging towards a throng which had gathered at the center of the court. They were young--mostly likely still college students like Aelin--all of them dressed in various articles of burnt orange clothing, chanting “Ashryvver” at the top of their lungs.

Rowan could help himself as he tracked Aelin through the adoring crowd, beaming as the tournament administrator fought his way through the mass to place a beautiful fresh lei of white orchids around her neck. As when the man handed both Aelin and Aedion a crystal vase—serving in the place of a trophy, their throng of admirers burst into even louder cheers as the opening bars of All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled blared over the speakers. Rowan fended off a sensation dangerously similar to disappointment as Aelin scrambled up to sit on the shoulders of a sickeningly-handsome man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. Rowan watched as she strung a hand under the stranger’s chin to grin down at him, his smile similarly enraptured as they traded a laughed.

Rowan forced his shoulders to drop from their rigid position. Perhaps she had just been teasing all that time. After all, she didn’t seem to remember Rowan even existed as she swayed to the music, fingers casually strung through the strangers hair to keep herself steady.

Forcing himself to look away, Rowan retreated back to where his friends waited. It was fine, he told himself. He came here to play, not get his dick wet, and he’d done that, and done it well. Now was the time for celebrating being back with his favorite people, not sulking over some girl he barely knew.

“Great game, man,” Fen said as Ro approached,accepting the Gatorade in his friend’s outstretched hand. “That was a tough break at the end.”

“No shame in that match, Ro. That girl is just unstoppable,” Cash added.

“And one good thing about you losing: I think you shook Remy for good,” Lor said. “She stormed over her to spew a bunch of bullshit about how much she hated all of us before she stormed off. Don’t think we will be seeing her again any time soon.”

“Oh amen to that, brother,” Fen said. “That’s worth losing a match any day.”

“I can’t say I was sorry to see her go,” Rowan admitted. “You were right; she had ulterior motives.”

Lorcan pretended to examine his nails in feigned indifference.

“I, for one, am shocked.”

“Speaking of ulterior motives...” Cash said, eyes trailing to where the Ashryvvers were still celebrating, Aelin perched on the mystery man’s shoulders. “Talk to me about Galathynius.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, debating the merits of making up a lie before relenting and saying simply, “she’s Cuban.”

“Oh fuck,” Fen said. “You’re in trouble now, Kahukore.”

“I knew it,” Cash said, grin wolfish. “She’s perfect.”

“Cousin’s pretty hot, too,” Fen observed, eyes tracking Aedion as he posed for photos for the tournament website. “What have you got on him?”

“He’s a douchebag,” Rowan said. “The first thing out of his mouth before the match started was a joke about getting lei-ed.”

Fen only laughed, teeth bright against his brown skin.

“Lighten up, man. If I dismiss every haole guy who makes that joke, there won’t be any dick left!”

“There’s an obvious solution here,” Lor said, cuffing Fenrys affectionately by the back of his neck. “Stop chasing after white boys.”

“No promises,” Fen said, grinning. “Let’s go get drunk.”

“Can I shower first?” Ro asked, pushing his silver hair out of his eyes. “I feel like a vagrant.”

“And you smell like one, too,” Cash said. “You’re a jackass,” Rowan said, though he couldn’t help laughing as he strung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You owe me fifty bucks, by the way,” Cash called to Lor.

Lorcan rolled his eyes.

“You said she was Puerto Rican,” Lor said. “She’s Cuban, so I don’t owe you shit.”

“At least a drink, then. Fen thought she was Swedish!

“We don’t know!” Fen said, laughing. “One of her parents could still be Swedish. We’ll have Ro ask her later. Double or nothing, Kahukore?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and he fought not to scowl outright. A quick glance back at the court told him that though Aelin had finally alighted from the brunette’s shoulders, they were now kicking sand at each other like children. He wondered how long it would take him to get her bright, infectious laughter out of his head.

“If you want to know, you better ask her now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Cash said. “You didn’t get her number? What is wrong with you?”

“She’s not my type.”

“What does that even mean, ‘type’?” Fen said. “I don’t like even women and she’s still my type. Don’t turn into Lor unless you’re cool with dying alone.”

Having no reasonable response to this, Rowan just rolled his eyes.

“Rude,” Lor said, not actually sounding bothered by the comment.

“Let’s just go already,” Rowan said.The sooner he got drunk, the sooner he could forget about Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius and all the promises he’d seen in her dazzling eyes.

“Last chance,” Cash warned. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask for her number? If nothing else, she looks like she’d be willing to give you the ride of your life.”

Rowan had to admit he was tempted, especially as he remembered Aelin promising him the same thing. Still, when he watch the same dark-haired guy string an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple, his mind was made up.

Jerking his head towards the parking lot, he permitted himself one final glance in Aelin’s direction before he turning his back to her for good.

Several hours hours later, Rowan found himself sitting on the beach with a beer in hand, watching the sun set over the glittering azure water. Oahu wasn’t quite home— not in the same way that Maui was—but Rowan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the islands until that moment. It was the familiar sound of the surf and the balmy air, much cleaner here than in LA.

More than that, though, it was being here with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time all four of them had been together, and he didn’t want to think about how long it might be before it happened again. He just wanted to enjoy the evening and...forget for a while

.“What are you thinking about?” Cash asked from beside him. “You look a million miles away.”

Not wanting the dampen the evening’s light mood, Rowan took a swig of beer and said, “

Just wondering if I should take out a bigger insurance policy on my motorcycle. Remy knows where I live, and part of me is afraid she’s already en-route to the mainland to destroy all my shit.”

At this, Lor laughed.

“Listen, you’re not wrong.”

“Just please tell me we are done with her,” Cash said. “I don’t think I have any more fake nice left in me after this weekend.”

“We’re done with her,” Rowan confirmed. “Also, she is never going to make the tour.”

“I don’t think AVP was very even on the table,” Fen said. “She just made that shit up to get your attention.”

“It might have worked, too, if Galathynius hadn’t stepped in,” Cash said, holding up his beer.

“At the very least, we’d be stuck entertaining her all weekend while she tried to slither in your pants,” Lor told Rowan. “For that, at least, I’m grateful to Galaythius.”

“Now, she will make the tour,” Cash said.

“Future Olympian, no doubt,” Fen agreed. “And Ro missed his chance to be right there with her. Instead he’ll be watching her win gold on tv and jacking off into a pool of his tears.”

“Are you done?” Rowan said, lobbing his empty can at Fen.

“No,” Fen said. “I have enough material to last us the night, at least.”

Rowan rolled his eyes as they all labored to their feet and headed towards a rowdy pub farther down the beach. No one had to ask where they were headed; drinks at the Hideaway had always been their tradition when they came to Waikiki.

Despite the early hour, the bar was already bumping by the time they arrived, and as soon as they walked in and surveyed the scene, Cash burst out laughing. Lor, who’d followed his friend’s gaze, gave a good-natured groan.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

There, sitting on top the bar, was Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius, her usual coterie fawning around her as she tipped her head back to drain a shot of tequila. She’d traded her bikini for a pair of cut-off over-alls worn over a distractingly lacy bralette, her long blonde hair falling to her waist in two French braids.

She still wore her lei from earlier, the white standing out brilliantly against her burnished skin.

Everyone she was with cheered as she held the glass aloft, and before Ro could think to make a quick exit and save himself the awkwardness of having to face her. Aelin’s mouth stretched into a sensuous grin as she surveyed his blue button-down and slim-fitting chinos.

“So we all agree now, right?” Cash said, giving Rowan a gentle shove. “Ro has to go over there and talk to her.”

Rowan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as he watched Aelin lean over to whisper to the same dark-haired guy she’d been with earlier.

“Definitely,” Fen said. “It’s fate.”

“No,” Rowan said, turning towards the bar in an attempt to block Aelin out. “And I think she has a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Only one way to find out,” Cash said, grinning as he slid past Rowan. “Wish me luck, boys.”

Rowan had to actively fight a scowl.

“You’re seriously going over there?”

“Listen, brother: if you’re really not going to take your shot, then I am.”

He gave Rowan a challenging look as if daring him to call his bluff, but Rowan only shrugged.

“Go for it, man.”

Rowan told himself not to look, but curiosity got the best of him as Cash approached. Aelin watched him do so with keen interest, eyes glittering as she slid from the bar to her feet. Rowan was too far away to hear Cash’s opening line, but whatever it was, Aelin tipped her head back and laughed, her hand inadvertently falling to his arm as she did so.

“I need a fucking drink,” Rowan muttered, flagging to the bartender and gesturing for three shots of whiskey.

Draining his, he glanced over again. Cash’s head was bent slightly as he spoke in Aelin’s ear, her smile dazzling as she listened.

Lorcan reached for his own shot, but Ro grabbed it before he could, throwing in back in a single movement before taking Fen’s as well.

“Damn boy, you’ve got it bad,” Fen observed.

“Cash better take her somewhere else to fuck,” Lor added, frowning. “She strikes me as a screamer, and I forgot my earplugs.”

“You both suck,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to look at Cash and Aelin for a third time. He already felt pathetic; he didn’t need to look it, too.

However, after a beat he couldn’t help himself, and he glanced up just in time to see Cash brush a kiss on Aelin’s cheek before retreating back towards them.

When Aelin caught Rowan looking she crooked a finger towards him in an obvious “come hither” gesture, and Rowan felt his stomach flop pleasantly. Cash grinned as he reached their group again, jerking his head in Aelin’s direction as she crossed her legs in an expectant gesture.

“What did you do?” Rowan demanded.

“Greased the wheels for you,” Cash said, smiling. “Go get her, champ.”

At this he turned to Fen, smile widening.“And the cousin’s bi, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Good work,” Fen said, clapping Cash on the back before turning to frown at Rowan. “What are you even still doing here? Go already, before she comes to her senses and chooses someone else!”

Flipping him a casual middle finger, Rowan smoothed back his silver hair and headed towards her, trying to seem more suave than he honestly felt. Jesus, he hadn’t been this tied in knots by a girl since he’d met Lyria as a first-year cadet. Normally the idea would pain him, but in that moment he had the oddest sensation of her standing beside him, smiling as if to say, “make me proud.”

Aelin smirked and uncoiled to her feet as he approached, grin widening as he said, “You stalking me?”

She gave a lover’s laugh, low and sensuous.

“Oh, you know how the songs goes: The Eyes of Texas are upon you, do not think you can escape them.”

He couldn’t fight his smile at this.

“I should have known,” he said.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” she said. “But you owe me. Why don’t we start with...your name? I’m Aelin, as I’m sure you already know.”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of agreeing, he simply said,

“Rowan.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to kiss your friend just to get your attention.”

“He would have loved that.”

Aelin laughed.

“He’s charming, but too pretty for me; I have a rule of not dating guys who have better hair than I do.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Rowan said. “It will go to his head.”

“Quite literally,” she said. “Let me introduce you around,” she said as Aedion approached.“My cousin, I think you know.”

Aedion only grinned, holding up the lei of purple orchids around his neck. “Told you I would.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she ran a hand down the back of the dark-haired man she’s been with earlier, seeking his attention. When he turned, she gestured to Rowan.

“Galen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my other cousin, Galen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Galen said, his accent thicker than either Aelin or Aedion’s.

Her cousin.

It seemed so obvious now. Though his hair and skin were darker than hers, he had her same brilliant eyes, as did Aedion. Rowan was never going to hear the end of it from his friends.

Galen gave Rowan a quick up-down before firing off in rapid, staccato Spanish, the words so fast Rowan couldn’t even pick out a single one.

Aelin only gave her cousin a good-natured eyeroll before pushing on his chest.

“Vete,” she said. “no me molestes.”

“Let me guess,” Rowan said. “He threatened to string me up if I even so much as blink wrong?

”Aelin gave a look of theatrical mock surprise.

“No way, you speak Spanish?”

“Tell him I come in peace,” Rowan said.

“He knows I can fight my own battles,” Aelin replied with a strug. “He and Aedion just like to prove their usefulness. Where were we?”

“I think you were introducing me to your court,” Rowan said, gesturing as the legion of people surrounding Aelin.

“Everyone else can wait,” Aelin said, gesturing to the bartender for drinks. “I don’t feel like sharing you quite yet.”

When two tequila shots and two beers appeared on the bar, Rowan threw down a fifty before Aelin could put it on her tab.

“Trying to butter me up?” She asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

“Do I need to?” He replied, accepting the shot from her.

She only smirked, grabbing his fist and running her tongue down the back of his hand before covering it with salt. He had to fend off a pleasant shudder. The gesture had shot straight to his cock.

“We’ll see,” she said, offering him a lime now, too. “Ready?”

He lifted his glass to her, but before he could lick the salt, she grabbed his wrist.

“You can’t drink without a toast, are you insane?”

“I don’t have one.”

She rolled her eyes before coaching his arm up above his head.

“Arriba,” she said before gently guiding his hand down. “Abajo. Al centro,” she prompted him to clink his glass to hers in the center. “Por dentro.”

With that she licked the salt off her hand before throwing the shot back easily and sucking on the lime. Rowan decided not to read into the suggestive look she gave him as she did so.

When they’d finished, Aelin grabbed his hand, gesturing for him to pick up his beer before she pulled him away from the bar.

“Where are we going?” He asked, hazarding a glance back at his friends to see them all watching him with knowing smirks.

“Somewhere quieter,” Aelin said, leading him up a set of rickety stairs that lead to an upper lounge.

The low couches were open to the air and overlooked the beach, and considering how things with Aelin had begun this afternoon, it felt…dangerously romantic.

You can’t fall for this girl, he reminded himself.

She didn’t live here, and neither did he. He was busy studying for the detective exam, and she was still in college, for Christ’s sake. Whatever he did, he couldn’t catch feelings for her.

However, it was an idea that felt easier said than done as Aelin yanked him down beside her on a couch, her head propped on a fist as she studied him with those mesmerizing blue eyes. She was so beautiful it was almost hard to breathe.

“So,” she said. “Start at the beginning.”

He laughed.

“The beginning of what?”

She grinned, her lips the most kissable shade of pink.

“Everything. I want to know it all.”

IF YOU LIKED THIS AND WANT MORE, CHECK OUT PART TWO, OUT NOW! 🏐 🍺 ♥️

TAG LIST: @tswaney17 @katexrenee @mightymorphingayagenda @nalgenewhore @superspiritfestival @mis-lil-red @pilesofriles @whitewashedasiangirl @http-itsrebecca @starkovsnesta @thebitchupstairs @sometimesimthatbitch @islareds @faerie-queen-fireheart @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @enpointe10 @justgiu12 @thesurielships @awesomelena555 @alyx801 @carbconnoisseur @ladywitchling @keshavomit @stardelia @thewayshedreamed @annedub @cityofchelsea16 @spyofthenightcourt

#tog modern au #tog x acotar #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #In Vino Veritas Prequel #featherywrites

296 notes · View notes

night-fallz · 3 years ago

Text

A Slow process

Percy wanted to believe that the fates have finally gotten bored of her. However, she was quickly proven wrong when her life only continued to get worse. Overwhelmed with grief and despair, all Percy wants is to erase the godly DNA from her genes and forget it as a whole. She wants a break from the gods. A break from the demigods. And a break from the mythological world as a whole. Sadly, she never got what she wanted before. So why would this time be any different?

A few days after the war, Percy is suddenly thrown into the non-pit version of hell. Surrounded with manipulation and toxicity, she tries to run away from it all. But it doesn't work. She's faced with a choice, go back to her father's kingdom or join the Young Justice team.

- -

(A female Percy Jackson and Young Justice fanfic crossover.)

⚠️ I will be covering triggering topics like... ⚠️

- Drug Abuse

- Addiction

- Self-harm

- Suicide

- Verbal & Physical abuse

- Sexual harassment

Note: It might take a while for Percy and the Young Justice team to meet. But don't worry, they will.

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

Ao3 // Wattpad

Chapter 1

Persephone Jackson felt like she could not breathe. They’ve been fighting for hours and the giants still haven’t shown up. And considering that the gods haven’t appeared to help them fight their battles, she couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Where the hades were they?

Fuck, her whole body was aching with pain and the headache she got a few minutes ago (probably due to dehydration) was not helping.

Her legs and arms could stop working any second. They were running out of time. Where were the gods? They did not risk their lives to travel all the way to Greece just so they could stay cuddled up on Olympus.

Percy was getting slower. She was tired. A glance at the battlefield showed that the rest of the seven were getting affected too.

The ground began to rumble. Percy forced herself to conserve any energy she had left.

The giants have finally arrived with another army of monsters. Percy hoped that this was going to be the final battle but it was unlikely.

After defeating the giants, they'll still have to fight Earth itself, Gaea.

Luckily for them, the gods have finally managed to grace them with their presence. Percy suddenly felt her energy rush back to her. She glanced up at the sky. It was raining.

While Percy was thankful for the water, it would probably do more harm than good during the battle. The demigods weren’t water-resistant like her.

As if knowing what she was thinking, her father snapped his fingers and suddenly the rest of the seven weren’t soaked with water anymore. It was still raining but the water just avoided them.

The demigods waited for the army to run up to them, wanting to conserve as much energy as they could before they realized that they weren’t as tired as they were before. They glanced at their respective parents in surprise, giving them a silent thank you before they got ready for the fight of their lives.

Percy was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. It was like she had her Achilles Heel again, nothing could touch her. The rain continued to supply her with energy as well as giving her more power to use. She was playing a dangerous dance, her sword was slashing and stabbing monsters left and right, as she made a whirlpool of water and made it go the opposite direction she was heading, right where Hazel was.

Hazel sent her a thankful smile as they fought together, back to back as they made their way towards Annabeth.

Percy couldn’t help but be relieved when she saw the grey-eyed girl. Her wise girl was okay. Fighting next to Annabeth reminded Percy of the Titan War.

They survived that, so they have to survive this as well.

Percy sent another whirlpool of water in the direction that Piper was. “Remind me to thank your dad for the small boost of power he gave us.” she heard her girlfriend whisper.

Percy nodded, “But first we have to survive, okay?”

Annabeth nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

Jason flew down to where their group, holding Leo in his arms and Frank quickly followed, changing back to his human form.

The Seven were all back to back. Ready to defend each other’s blind spots.

Hazel snapped her fingers, making a majority of the monsters confused. This gave Piper the opportunity to charmspeak the monsters.

Her soft, angelic voice echoed through the battlefield, appealing to their enemy’s ears. “You don’t wanna fight us. You wanna leave the seven of us alone. Instead, you want to get revenge on the ones that have wronged you. Isn’t that why you sided with Earth? For revenge?”

Piper glanced at Hazel and Hazel nodded, closing her eyes in concentration as the snap of her finger seemed to echo in every monster’s mind.

It worked. A majority of the monsters were fighting each other. This gave us a moment to catch our breath.

Percy glanced up at the sky. Rain was still falling and the remaining monsters were soaked. She had an idea.

“Jason,” she whispered. “Shock them.”

His blue eyes looked at me with confusion before nodding, understanding what the demigoddess wanted him to do.

If there was one thing Percy learned during science class, it was that water and electricity do not go well together.

Jason’s sent a shockwave towards the final group of monsters heading out, causing them to evaporate in golden dust.

She glanced to where my father was. They were just standing there, watching us.

Did they not learn anything from the last war?

Did they even help other than agreeing to give the rest of the seven my father’s temporary blessing?

Percy felt the ground rumbling again. The giants have finally arrived.

She smelt the ocean next to me and knew that my father and his family had finally decided to help.

With the gods on their side, the demigods knew they wouldn’t lose this battle. Percy fought harder than she ever fought before. She matched the giant from toe to toe and after a few minutes, Percy finally got the opening she was looking for and slashed Polybotes’s chest with Riptide. She nodded at her dad as he held up his trident, sending a steaming, hot pressurized bolt of water in the place where Percy slashed him. Polybotes wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

She finally got a chance to look at the battlefield and she tried not to flinch in shock.

It wasn’t looking good. So far, Percy and her father were the only ones who’ve killed their respective giant.

Her father stood next to her, “So, who are we helping first?”

Percy tried not to look shocked at the fact that he was gonna stay in help and managed to steadily say, “Let’s help Athena and Annabeth first. With me and Annabeth fighting together, we can help Piper defeat Periboia. And if you and Lady Athena decide to stay, then all of us will be able to have a bigger chance of surviving.”

Percy turned away from her father so that she couldn’t see how her father reacted with her silent jab at him. Instead, she ran to where her girlfriend was, ready to help her fight Enceladus.

Percy tried to use the water to hold the giant’s legs so that Annabeth wouldn’t get stepped on.

The water was getting harder to control. She wouldn’t be able to hold it any longer. Suddenly, Percy noticed that she wasn't using up as much energy anymore. It was like the water had gotten easier in control.

She glanced up and saw her father with a confident glint in his eyes. She muttered a thank you and let the water she was controlling go, leaving her fate up to her dads.

Together, Annabeth and Percy charged. Percy lifted Annabeth with water so that the blonde girl could temporarily confuse the giant.

Thank gods, for Annnabeth’s aim. She managed to throw her new drakon-bone sword at his eye, making him stumble.

Her father let go of the water he was controlling, causing the Enceladus to fall on his butt. This gave Athena the opening to stab him right in the chest.

He exploded in golden dust.

She inspected the battlefield again and couldn’t help but sigh in relief. They were winning.

Leo and Hephaestus managed to defeat Otis by using fire to burn him alive.

That’s one less giant to worry about. Three down, three more to go.

She turned to her dad and Lady Athena, “Go help Jason and King Zeus, they’ll need all the help they can get when fighting Porphyrion. I’ll help Piper defeat Periboia.” She turned to Annabeth, “Go help Leo and Lord Hephaestus with Ephialtes.”

Annabeth nodded, “When this is over, you better be alive Seaweed Brain.”

Percy couldn’t help but give her girlfriend a small smile, one that she returned before running to where Leo was.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Athena disappear in a flurry of owls and saw her father dissolved in mist.

She took a deep breath and ran to help her sister in all but blood. Aphrodite was floating around them on a small white cloud, throwing rose petals in the giantess’s murky brown eyes effectively making her blind for a few seconds.

Percy blocked a strike that could’ve killed Piper, “Need a hand?”

Piper nodded, “Yes please.”

Aphrodite noticed Percy and yelled out some nice encouragement, “Kill this ugly dumpster wanna-be, girls.” Doves came from out of nowhere and clawed on the giantess, “I’m gonna need to wash my eyes with bleach after this battle. I’ve never seen anyone as hideous as her.”

The giantess growled in frustration, “WATCH WHAT YOU SAY, YOU LITTLE BIT-“

While the giantess yelled at Aphrodite, Percy and Piper slit the giantess’s stomach open with their respective weapon, leaving the bane of Aphrodite at the mercy of doves.

Percy noticed that there was only one more giant left to beat. The bane of Zeus, Porphyrion.

Percy was running out of energy. Luckily, every giant except one has been beaten.

Unluckily, it was the strongest giant.

Aphrodite flashed Piper and Percy on her cloud, allowing both Piper and Percy to catch their breaths for a few seconds.

While Zeus and Jason looked like they haven’t slept in a month, Porphyrion stood tall, looking like he just woke up from a nice nap.

“Oh gods,” Piper muttered worriedly, looking at Jason. “This isn’t good.”

Percy studied Jason more intently. He was covered in blood due to all the cuts he had all over him yet not a drop had fallen on the ground. Jason tried to stand tall but the giant only laughed. “This is the great son of Jupiter?” his words echoed through Percy’s skull. “Pathetic.”

Jason charged towards the giant but he only smacked the blue-eyed boy away. Before Jason could hit the ruins, Percy raised her hand, cushioning his fall with the water.

Zeus looked at her with gratitude and while having her a subtle nod.

Percy jumped off the cloud, allowing the wind to carry her next to her uncle and as if they rehearsed it, they charged.

The rest followed. Athena and Annabeth were distracting the giants as Aphrodite summoned more doves to claw the giant. When she deemed that there were enough doves, she threw rose petals at the giant’s eyes. Trying to get him temporarily blinded.

Percy stared at the giant's feet and yelled to her father, “HIS FEET, WRAP IT IN WATER.”

Poseidon followed her instructions and she turned to Zeus. “Throw a lightning bolt and aim it on the water. That should shock him for a few minutes and that’s enough time for us to kill him.”

Her uncle nodded, pointing a finger at the giant's feet. Porphyrion groaned in pain as the demigods charged.

But of course, something had to go wrong. As they charged, Porphyrion somehow got enough energy to throw a broken piece of a building towards them. Percy dodged it but Hazel wasn’t as lucky.

It was silent for a few seconds before Hazel’s blood-curdling screams filled the air. Percy bit back a cry. A person that she could proudly call her younger sister was gone.

Blinded by anger, Frank turned to an eagle and flew with the speed that could make Hermes jealous.

But charging in like that was a mistake.

And Frank paid for it.

It didn’t matter how fast Frank tried to attack the giant. All Porphyrion had to do was hold his arm up, to catch Frank in his hand, and crush his fist, effectively breaking all of Frank’s bones and killing him in the process.

He slowly opened his crushed fist, as if teasing them. After a few torturous seconds, he dropped a pale, limp eagle as Frank’s blood dripped into the floor.

The ground rumbled. They haven’t been fighting Porphyrion for five minutes yet two people are already dead. And Gaea could awake at any second. She had the two sacrifices she needed. The blood of a male and female demigod.

It was like Percy’s brain was working against her. As she attacked the giant, the noises around her became muffled before quickly becoming inaudible. All Percy could hear were Hazel’s painful screams and the sound of Frank’s body being crushed.

It shouldn’t have been possible, Percy’s brain tried to argue. Frank couldn’t have died until his stick was nothing but ashes.

Percy quickly shook that thought out of her head. She can figure everything out when the bane of Zeus has been defeated.

Minutes have passed and Percy finally saw an opening. She mustered up all the energy she had left and made a giant slit on the giant's stomach, covering her with even more gold dust.

Without wasting another second, Poseidon sent a stream of pressurized water on the wound, causing Porphyrion to yell in frustration, “IF YOU END UP KILLING ME, I’LL TAKE AT LEAST ONE OF YOU WITH ME!”

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Zeus was preparing to send a bolt of lightning to the giant but before the lightning hit Porphyrion, he reached out his arm, trying to grab the closest demigod next to him.

It felt like Percy was fighting Kronos again. Everything was in slow motion except for the moves of her enemy.

She began to run forward but her moves began to get sluggish. “NO!” Percy managed to yell, realizing who the giant had grabbed. “ANNABETH!”

It was too late. Annabeth let out a scream full of pain and it continuously echoed throughout Percy’s skull.

Porphyrion exploded in golden dust, forcing Annabeth’s body to slam against the rough concrete.

Percy quickly ran towards Annabeth’s motionless body, stumbling forward as she kneeled next. Her usual tanned skin was now sickly pale, covered with burns. Her stormy grey eyes seemed to tell Percy all the suffering that she went through.

She cradled as much of Annabeth’s body as she could, not being bothered with all the blood that Percy was exposing her tattered shirt to.

Annabeth was gone.

And she didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

Percy felt the ground shake underneath her. Before she forced herself to get up, Percy closed Annabeth’s eyes as a final sign of respect to her girlfriend.

Percy felt the ground shake again. Although this time it was more violent, knocking down the old temples.

Piper’s usual bright eyes were full of tears, causing Percy to realize that she was crying as well.

Percy turned to Leo who was wiping away any stray tear that left his eye. His cracked voice seemed to echo through Athena as he whispered, “There’s only four of us left. Piper needs to charmspeak her, I’m the fire. And,” His eyes drifted to Jason’s body. “You guys have to make the storm.”

“Where are the gods?”

Piper and Leo glanced at each other. “They left. Right after we defeated Porphyrion the gods vanished.”

“Like poof.” Leo sadly added.

They lost three of the best demigods of this generation by fighting against Porphyrion, how could the gods expect them to defeat Gaea with no help? Or at least without all the demigods dying in the process?

“Uhm- guys,” Piper’s voice snapped Percy out of her thoughts. “We better get ready.”

Leo and Percy turned to where Piper’s eyes were focusing. The dirt seemed like it was rising, forming the shape of a female.

“Gaea,” Percy whispered. “Do you guys remember the plan?”

They nodded hesitantly as they made their way to Jason’s body, which was still in a cocoon of water. Percy lifted her hand and slowly made the water evaporate.

Piper hesitated before she whispered a shaky, yet firm command. “Wake up!”

Jason’s eyes opened and he groaned, What happened?”

“She’s awake.” Percy ignored his question, “Do you remember the plan?”

Jason nodded, trying to stand up before he quickly fell again. “I can’t stand,” he whispered in shock.

Percy tried to stay strong. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe. “When we win this, I’ll force Apollo to heal you.” Jason gave her a grateful grin, “Do you think you have enough energy to fly all of us up?”

Jason shook his head, “I only have enough energy to fly two people up and if I have to carry her up as well, then maybe I can carry one person.” He grimaced. “Although that might be pushing my luck.”

“That’s not good. And we know that gods chose to sit this battle out.” Percy let out an ear-piercing whistle before muttering a small, “Hopefully that’ll work.”

Two pegasi formed in front of them. “That’s never happened before,” Leo mentioned.

Percy nodded in agreement. The gods sent us, Blackjack transmitted in Percy’s head. They said the ancient laws forbid them from helping any more than they already did.

Percy forced herself not to roll her eyes. What a bunch of bullshit. Instead, she faced her friends, “Piper and I will take Blackjack. Leo, will you be alright with Spade?”

Leo turned to the white Pegasi and nodded. “Aye, aye ma’am.”

Percy and the others exchanged grins. Even in the most dire situation, you could count on Leo to make a joke. She turned to Jason. “Whatever you do, make sure she isn’t touching the ground.”

Jason nodded. “We got this. We can win.”

Percy didn’t know whether he was that confident in his abilities to win or if he was trying to convince himself.

It was probably the latter.

Percy turned to Piper who’s been quiet so far. “You ready?” she asked.

“Yep.” Piper played with her torn shirt, “It’s just a lot of pressure.”

Percy understood what she meant. So she grabbed Piper and Leo’s arm, tugging them closer to Jason and herself. “Group hug.” Her voice was hoarse and it cracked. She was thankful that they ignored it and just melted into the hug. “I love you guys.” She reminded them. “I’m so lucky that I got to meet all of you.”

One by one, the rest of them repeated her gesture. Deep down, they all knew that this was their way of saying goodbye. Just in case they didn’t make it out.

Percy helped Piper up on Blackjack and she gave Jason a final glance before instructing her pegasi to fly to where Gaea resided.

On the mound of dirt, Percy saw a figure standing.

Gaea had such delicate features on her face that it would’ve made her seem innocent. She had honey brown hair that framed her face, bringing out her dangerous green eyes.

Her voice was sickly sweet as she said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Yeah, well. We’re here.” Percy heard Leo sarcastically say, “So, you ready to lose?”

“Leo Valdez.”

“That’s my name.” Leo cheekily grinned, “Don’t wear it out.”

Gaea continued like she didn’t hear the elfish boy, “Out of everyone who died today, I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

Even though Percy knew Leo was trying not to let that bother him, it did. And from the smirk on Gaea’s face, she knew it as well.

Before things could further escalate, Percy yelled “NOW!”

The winds around them picked up forcing the pegasi to fly higher, in order to not get caught.

Percy felt the winds twisting around, forming a tornado underneath the primordial.

Leo tried to distract Gaea by hurling insults at her. “HEY POTTY SLUDGE, OVER HERE!”

The goddess ignored Leo until Piper finally spoke up, her kaleidoscope eyes glowing. “Gaea,” her voice was commanding. “You want to listen to me.”

“SILENCE!”

“You are weary.” Piper’s voice was full of sympathy, “You are so, so tired.”

“LIES!” Gaea yelled.

Leo gave up on insulting the goddess, instead threw fire at the goddess. Distracting her from the tornado forming below her feet.

With Gaea’s attention on Leo, Percy began to assist Jason in lifting Gaea higher. She summoned water, slowly adding it to his hurricane.

Gaea began to rise higher. And they followed.

“YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME.” Gaea’s form turned to dirt but the water that Percy added caught it before it reached the ground. Seemingly giving up on trying to go through the water, Gaea re-formed back to a human. “I AM ETERNAL!” she cried

“ETERNALLY ANNOYING!” Leo yelled as he urged Spade higher.

“Get me closer.” Piper urged Percy, “I need to be next to her.”

“The fire and the wind-“ Percy tried to argue.

“I know.”

Percy sighed knowing there was no talking Piper out of this as she moved in until they were right next to Gaea.

“FOOLISH DEMIGODS!” her face contorted into Annabeth, causing both Piper and Percy to hesitate for a brief second.

“Millennia of sorrow.” Piper told the goddess, her voice dripping with pity, “Your husband, he was abusive wasn’t he?”

The goddess started to nod before stopping when she noticed what she was doing, “LIES!”

Piper continued, seemingly unfazed. “You know, you did the right thing.” Gaea turned to Piper shocked, stopping all her attacks. “Cutting him into tiny pieces so that he can never hurt you again. After all, you just wanted to keep your kids safe, right?”

Percy’s eyes met Leo’s. She concentrated, forcing rain to slowly fall from the sky again. Percy made sure not to let the rain touch Gaea so that all her attention would stay on Piper.

Leo’s eyes were tight shut and Percy felt the air becoming warm. You could still hear the rain hitting the pavement in the background. Put together, the two of them just made the atmosphere perfect for sleeping.

Everything was relying on Piper now.

“All that pain. All that suffering.” Piper’s voice was soothing. “It’s no wonder you’re so tired.”

Gaea snapped out of the trance she was in. “I-YOU DO NOT-“

Piper pretended not to hear her and continued. “You want one thing.” Piper’s words made Percy’s bone shake, “Just one small thing. You’re just so tired of all the stupid and arrogant gods and demigods getting in the way.” Piper lowered her voice. As if telling the goddess a secret, “YOU—WANT—SLEEP.”

“NO!” the goddess groaned. “NO!”

Before Gaea’s body went limp, she held out her arm.

Piper quickly turned to Percy, “We only have a few minutes. My charmspeak won’t- AGHHH”

A thorny vine was creeping up Piper’s leg, trying to drag her down.

“Piper!” Percy screamed, “Give me your hand.”

“I- It’s too late.” Piper gasped in pain, the thorns twisted their way into her leg.

“No, it’s not.” Percy tried to argue, grasping Piper’s hand tighter.“ We can’t lose you too.” she turned to Leo. “Can you try to burn the vine?”

Even from afar, Percy could see Leo’s eyes tearing up. “No.” He whispered. “If I do, I might burn up her whole body.”

“Percy.” her attention went back to one of her closest friends. “Let me go.”

Percy felt the tears falling from her eyes as she shook her head. “NO!” she cried. “I can't! Not you too.”

Piper’s eyes were filled with determination as they met hers. “Don’t let our sacrifices go to waste.” She took in a deep breath. “Percy, let me go.”

Without hesitation, she let go. When Percy realized what happened, she tried to reach for Piper’s hand.

But it was too late.

That’s when she noticed Jason flying towards his girlfriend.

He could save her.

Jason forced the winds to carry his body to Piper’s. He managed to grab onto her waist, but the winds failed him and gave the vines a chance to wrap their thorns around him as well. They held onto each other as the thorns twisted into their body, tearing them into shreds.

“No.” Percy said in disbelief, “No!”

She felt Leo fly next to her. “Come on, Percy.” He gently urged. “We still have to defeat her. Piper’s right. We can’t let their deaths be in vain.”

Percy could only nod, she turned to Leo. He looked like he was made of fire. Realizing what he was about to do, she grabbed his arm. Not caring that it might burn her. “Leo, you can’t.” her voice was cracking, “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, Percy.” He patted Blackjack. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, okay?”

I’ll try. She heard Blackjack’s voice in her head.

“I’m sorry, Perce.” he gave her a regretful smile. “Just make sure to keep her in the air and trust me.”

Without another glance, Leo threw himself onto the unsuspecting goddess.

Blackjack tried to fly as far away as he could but as soon as Percy heard a high-pitched scream, she used all her leftover energy and dissolved her body into mist.

Gaea began to brightly glow so Percy grabbed Leo’s arm, covered his eyes, and vapor traveled them out before the primordial could explode in golden light.

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

Leo woke up and slowly stood as he tried to get rid of as much dust and ash as he could. He stumbled forward to the silent battlefield.

As Leo looked around, he finally noticed how bloody everything was. It felt like he crashed onto a cemented wall as his memories from the battle came flooding back.

Oh gods, he wanted to cry. They’re dead. They’re all gone.

Except for Percy. His mind argued. The two of them were the only ones left.

“PERCY!” he shouted. “ARE YOU HERE?” Leo continued to walk, his scratchy voice cutting the silence that the former battlefield was just enveloped in. “PERCY!”

A few minutes passed and Leo started to lose hope.

What if she’s dead? his mind whispered.

Stop it. He tried to argue, he couldn’t think like that.

Why? His head continued to taunt. If she’s dead, it’s gonna be all your fault. She saved you. She’s only dead because she saved you.

“No, no, no,” Leo whispered, pulling his hair. “NO! Stop it.” He screamed. “It’s not my fault.”

“Deep breaths.” He heard a familiar voice whisper. “In and out.”

He followed the voice's directions and his eyesight cleared up. “Percy!” he practically flew to her in order to give her a hug. “You’re okay,” he assured himself. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, but...” her voice trailed off and Leo noticed that she was holding something or rather someone. “He’s not.”

Percy was holding a deformed eagle. Its whole body was crushed, “Is that Frank?” He couldn’t believe it, “How is he still alive?”

“His stick.” Percy reminded him. “It didn’t burn.” no one said anything for a while. “Leo,” Percy’s voice faltered. “There’s only three of us left alive.”

“Yeah?” Leo questioned, thinking that it was obvious.

“No, I mean-“ Percy stammered, “A few years ago, Chiron told me that the number three was sacred to the Greek world.”

Leo suddenly understood what she was implying. The three of them alive marked the end of their quest.

They won. But at what cost?

All of a sudden, a small stick- the size of his pinky finger appeared in Percy’s hand. It seems that even the gods pitied the son of Mars.

He watched as her eyes stared at the only thing keeping Frank alive, contemplating what to do.

They didn’t want Frank to go.

He was the only other person who understood what the both of them went through.

They were the last three demigods who survived Gaea but looking at him, Leo knew it would be selfish to keep Frank alive. Every bone he had was crushed.

He spent the last few hours of his life in so much pain. And there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t talk. Nothing. The least they could do was take him out of his misery.

Leo knew that Percy realized that as well when she hesitantly handed the stick to Leo, “Do it.”

And Leo did.

They could only watch as both the stick and their friend disintegrated into ashes.

Frank didn’t die in the hands of their enemy. Instead, he gladly died in the hands of the last, two trusted members of the seven.

As Percy and Leo watched Frank’s ashes disappear into the wind, they hoped that the souls of each demigod that died in this war made it to Elysium, where they can live in peace. They deserved it.

They said nothing for a while. The air was filled with a comfortable silence as they figured out what to do next.

“Do you have enough energy to get us back to the Argo II?” Leo abruptly asked.

“I think so.” Percy’s voice sounded so tired that Leo regretted asking her. After all, she did most of the heavy lifting in their fight against the giants. It was honestly scary. She fought with the precision of a goddess, it didn’t help that she had the looks of one as well. “Hold on tight.”

Leo felt his body dissolve before getting back together again. His mind felt dizzy as his feet touched the solid ground.

When his head cleared up, he noticed the familiar walls of his ship. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

It was all over.

Percy moved near him, “What are you gonna do now?”

“I fixed Festus and I plan on using him to find Calypso. She’s on an island called-“

“Ogygia.” Percy frowned, “I met her once but after the second titan war, I used one of my wishes to get her free.”

“The gods suck.” Leo bluntly stated, “After the last giant was defeated they disappeared. Athena didn’t even check on Annabeth!” Percy nodded, “They did the bare necessity and then they left without even a goodbye.”

“You’re right,” she whispered. “If you find Calypso, tell her I said that I was sorry. I really believed that the gods let her free.”

“She’ll forgive you.” He assured, “And it’s not your fault anyway. And Percy?” She faced him, “I’m probably not gonna go back to camp. There are just too many memories and I can’t handle that right now.”

Percy nodded in agreement. “I get what you mean. I just want a break from the godly world. I don’t want to see any mythological creatures again. And if we head back to camp, the gods are just gonna give us another quest.”

They shared a look of agreement. There was always another quest.

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to, so let’s just try to make ourselves look as presentable as possible. Then we can head on our separate ways.” He advised.

Percy closed the distance between them and gave him another hug. This wasn’t goodbye, they would see each other again. “Make sure you stay safe. If you ever need help, just IM me. It doesn’t matter if they’re watching, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Leo found himself saying “I will.” before they both went to their respective rooms.

Leo quickly grabbed his belongings, stopping in the Med Bay filling up a random backpack he found with all the supplies he needed.

He made sure that his belt was still on his waist and that it wasn’t loose. If worse came to worse, he could summon almost anything he needed.

With a final glance at the direction Percy went, Leo pressed a few buttons on the suitcase on his desk before throwing it out into the air.

“Come on, Festus!” Leo called out, “The faster we get out of here, the better.”

Festus lowered his body, giving Leo a chance to climb up. After making sure that all their supplies wouldn’t fall, Festus lifted them onto the sky, flying towards the unknown.

50 notes · View notes

remmushound · 4 years ago

Text

Bay/rise 17! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Cassandra forced Hueso down the streets of the Hidden City. Any yokai that dared get too close was met with Cassandra’s annoyed wrath and, if they were truly pressing their luck, a slash from her weapon. They passed through the same rift Cassandra had come in through, and came out through the statue on the other side.

“The human world?” Hueso asked curiously, looking around. “Though there doesn’t seem to be many humans here… wonder what happened.”

Cassandra growled and yanked Hueso’s arms as far back as they could go without snapping.“Stop talking.”

“Humans are social animals.” Hueso dared speak softly. The streets were remarkably empty... “You must be awful lonely with no one to talk to.”

“I said be quiet!” Cassandra jostled Hueso harshly.

“Is that why you need me? To bring them back?”

Cassandra growled and shoved Hueso to the ground as they arrived at their destination . The Yokai was silent a moment before he made an attempt to rise.

“Listen here.” Cassandra said finally, letting the skeleton sit up. “Some… friends of mine went through a portal right here and you’re gonna bring them back for me.”

Hueso considered. “What kind of portal?”

 Cassandra blanked. “What?”

“What kind of portal? There are various types. Twelve of them to be exact.”

“I don’t know— a-a a blue one? Why does it matter!”

“Different portals have different rules. If you give me the weapon used to open the rift, I can do a ceremony to bring forth its history. Have you got the weapon?” He turned back to look at Cassandra.

 “Well, no…” Cassandra tapped her fingers together a moment before snapping again, “But it shouldn’t matter! Big Mama said you knew about portals!”

“I do…” Hueso said slowly. The name of Big Mama brought images of gore and coliseums and cruelty toward yokai, mutant and human alike. “I can read the energies they leave and locate their espíritu—“

“You can’t open a rift?!” Cassandra practically spat in his face.

“Well— no. Not without a mystic weapon…” His eyes followed the frustrated stomping of Cassandra as she stormed off.

“STAY HERE! I'll be back…”

~~~

The Shredder was waiting where Cass had left him, watching over Big Mama with cold, hollowed eyes. Cassandra touched her ring to announce her presence to the great monster and made him look up to acknowledge her.

Big Mama looked up weakly as well, her beak curling into a smile. “See? Didn't Big Mama tell you—“

“A lie.” Cassandra growled softly.

Big Mama’s eyes went to pinpricks. “What?”

“A LIE!” Cassandra repeated, charging Big Mama with a loud scream and slashing the yokai across the face with her Naginata. “You told me Señor Hueso could open a rift for me! You lied!”

“I did not lie— I— Big Mama told you—“

The Shredder pounced on Big Mama and dug his claws into the soft of her abdomen, making the Jorogumo’s words fade into agony as her wails echoed around the stadium.

“TELL! ME! THE! TRUTH!” Cassandra yelled, and through her anger she was starting to cry, “You have one more chance to tell me how to find where that rift went! ONE! MORE!”

“BARON DRAXUM!” Big Mama wailed, black oozing from her mouth and the punctures where The Shredder had brutalized her. “You-you’ve met him yes? If Hueso can tell him where to go, Draxum could open a rift anywhere! I… I promise…”

Cassandra brandished her blade and held it in front of the bigger of the spider’s many eyes. “You better be right about this.”

~~~~

Draxum didn't know how to feel. He wasn’t quite sad, but there was definitely something there. Something that made him feel almost hollow inside as he sat in the empty lair that his creations called home. They should have been back by now. Everything was awfully quiet. He could hear the faintest sounds of machines at work in the smart ones room, and he could hear the gurgle of water surrounding from every direction. The filthy, putrid sewer waste produced by the humans that Draxum still tried to hate. For the first few hours alone he had the TV on in the background so the silence wasn’t so silent, but it turned off by itself and Draxum for the life of him he wasn’t sure how to turn it back on. He hadn’t been listening to it, of course— human shows were of little entertainment to the Yokai. The droll in the background had helped to keep his thoughts from straying too far. But now there was nothing stopping them from flooding and blinding him with insecurity and anxiety and, overall, just a feeling of… well, nothing. There was nothing.

He stood up. His muscles still felt weak from his experience with The Shredder almost three months prior. His face was still sunken, his powers mediocre at best. He had to get stronger, and the constant care of Michelangelo could only carry him so close his ultimate goal. He couldn’t just sit there being miserable, feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t want to. Not when he had all the time in the world to train and an array of weapons at his disposal. His muscles needed to work, and he had the dojo to himself. There was only one sensible thing to do.

Of all the weapons available, he felt the tonfa suited him best. Strong and sturdy, built for both defense and offense and able to deal a significant amount of damage even with the slightest of blows. He took a set of them in his hands and gave an approving grunt at the weight. Then he stepped into the dojo, making sure to stretch a few times before he dared approach the first dummy he saw.

For several hours more, Baron Draxum was there training. He trained until four of the dummies lay broken and dejected in a pile and his hairless palms were slick with sweat. He dropped the duo weapons to the ground and ran his hands through his fur to try and cool himself while he trotted off to find a shower area.

Another hour passed. Baron sat once more on the couch with his mind aimless and surprisingly blank, wearing one of the robes that the big one had made just for him. He was tired, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him sleep. His creations still weren’t home. Something was wrong.

“Baron Draxum!” A loud voice disrupted the silence.

Baron groaned. Moments ago he had been begging for a break from the silence, but in just a few seconds he was begging for its return. Still, he stood to face the soldier he knew all too well.

“Cassandra.” He said as he approached the excitable youth, “Am I to assume you are the reason for my creation’s disappearance?”

Cassandra almost vibrated with excitement as she saluted the Baron, a wide smile splitting her face at the sight of her comrade.

“MASTER DRAXUM, SIR!” She shouted proudly, “I require your assistance with something, sir!”

Baron smiled. “Oh? Do go on.”

As Cassandra recounted her version of events, Baron listened intently. His ears flattened against the sides of his head as the story neared its end and, once it was finished, he was silent for the longest time.

“Master?” Cassandra asked softly, walking close enough to touch Baron if she wanted to. “Will you help me return our Foot Clan to its rightful power?”

Baron gave a long inhale and then exhaled sharply. “Yes, General. I will assist you in this endeavor. You know I hate the turtles as much as any.”

“Then… why are you in their house?” Cassandra scratched her head.

“I think the better question would be how did you find me?”

Cassandra only stared.

Draxum sighed. “I was awaiting their return. I figured this would be as good a place as any to rendezvous after I got separated from them. I have been using their kindness to heal myself from our Great Master’s feeding off of me. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not at all, Master sir!” She saluted again.

“Great.” Baron smiled. “Then let us return to the Great Master. Together.”

~~~~

Baron and Hueso sat together with their eyes closed. Lit candles were scattered in a peculiar pattern around them. Hueso held with him artifacts from each of the turtles, retrieved from their home by Baron Draxum, humming softly and occasionally breaking his silent concentration with a muttering that neither Baron note Cassandra could quite hear. Cassandra sat back anxiously and tried her best to keep quiet despite the sharp impulses to talk stabbing her like a needle.

“I am seeing a place… not close.” Hueso said slowly. “A place separate from ours.” He gripped Leonardo’s stuffed unicorn securely, “It is there that Leonardo and Michelangelo exited the rift.”

“Go on!” Cassandra covered her mouth a moment too late.

Hueso almost lost the vision, but a moment more of meditation brought it back.

“There is an Oni there. The Oni is an ancient one similar to the Oni who created your master. He is… furious. His rage burns like cold fire.”

Hueso grabbed Draxum’s hands and started to join their minds together.

“I see him.” Baron mused quietly, “He is…”

“Not from here.” Hueso finished. “He is Oni.”

Baron opened his red eyes quite suddenly and stood. Cassandra gasped and scrambled over to get a better view as Baron Draxum held his hand out to the dumpster in front of him. Two vines came from where his feet were rooted in the ground and slowly, agonizingly, they formed into a doorway. Once the vines stopped their slow, snake-like joining that brought the frame of the door together, they spiraled down and made a strange Kanji. The Kanji for demon. Oni.

The doorway exploded into a bright pink. Like a vortex, started to draw everything into it— scraps of loose trash, water from grimy puddles, loose stones from the asphalt. Anything in its path that was light enough. Hueso’s eyes slot open and he clung desperately to a dumpster to avoid being sucked in, grimacing as the dumpster started to be dragged toward the rift as well. Baron simply dug his hooves more securely into the stone while Cassandra clung to his arm with that excitable smile she often had.

“YES!” Casey screamed, bouncing in place while looking quickly between Baron and the rift.

“Por Dios it worked…” Hueso gawked.

“Yes.” Baron made a fist, the heat of the portal starting to seep into his very being and fill him with the taste of the power he had lost months ago. The sensation was fleeting, like a wind whistling through his mane on a hot summers day, or like the faintest scent that would remind one of their childhood. It was good. It was… perfect.

#Baron Draxum arrives!#Cass and Baron are vry close #best buddies #Hueso wasn’t expecting it to work

39 notes · View notes

boxboysandotherwhump · 4 years ago

Text

Teeth

Tags: @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @moose-teeth @vickytokio @yet-another-heathen @orchidscript

@finder-of-rings

Chapter 5

CW: detailed description of intense stab wound pain (to the arm), fighting for their lives against giant spider, it as a pronoun in a very brief flashback, blood, powering through pain,

Sahars blood thrummed in his ears like drums heralding disaster.

Adrenalin spiked blood rushed through his veins.

His muscles twitched.

Every fiber of his being buzzed electric.

With feet barely connecting to the soft forest ground, Sahar felt trapped in the worst kind of flight.

The kind that had driven him through dark alleyways, reduced to prey running from its predators in a cage the size of a city.

He’d sworn to never forget the lesson he’d learned, back then. When the little boy he’d saved had ratted him out and sicked a seething horde of citizens onto him.

It had been a warm night back then, too. Like and unlike today in so many ways.

Only that today, he knew how to fight. To defend himself. He was no longer a scrawny eight year old, trying to save a neighborhood kid from some angry teens, mouth running a mile a minute, words tumbling from his tongue, trying to sooth, to deascalet. But words hadn’t been enough, between them and their rage against a world that had banished them behind fences, trapped them in Berlin's slum. Words had done nothing against their butterfly knife. And it had sunk into his arm as they stabbed him, sliced through skin and muscle and planted a searing pain under his skin. His mutation had gone off, outside the safety of his mothers apartment and for all the world to see. What had followed, had been pure terror.

That night had never stopped breathing down his neck, lurking around dark street corners or whispering from beyond his locked bedroom door.

Get it! I saw it dive behind a dumpster! Up the street, the little pest ran into the carpentry. Fuck, fuck we lost it. No wait! There, there it is. It jumped into the river! Then let it drown. Or drift outside the city. It’ll die there anyway.

Haunted, wide eyes flitted over the trees, nearly expecting a hate and fire spewing crowd to break out from between them at any moment.

Bitter fire taste burned on his tongue.

Sahars foot caught on a branch and he slammed into a flower stem. Hard enough to jostle him out of his vicious memory storm.

A painful dull throb pulsed through his shoulder. Nothing compared to a knife buried in his right arm, but enough to let his consciousness snap back into the here and now. Back into his shuddering body. Back between giant leaves and flower petals that rustled in the warm evening breeze.

Sucking in a shaking breath, Sahar felt the axe’s weight in his hand. Heavy as the burden of his conscience. His panic subsided, morphed into something akin to stubborn righteousness.

No.

No matter what had happened back then, he’d done the right thing in saving that boy. And he would do the right thing now!

Even if it meant the whole village would find out. Even if Charlotte would hate him.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he turned his back on them. If he’d let them die while he hid like a coward.

Not if he could do anything about it.

“You you you can do this. You’re no no no damn child anymore.”

You have an axe now.

An axe to slay an insect. The idea was hysterical, really.

An axe to turn a monster into a hero, maybe?

He ignored that small hopeful whisper, shoved it back deep inside the hole it had crawled out of and ran.

Sahar nearly lost his balance as he dodged a branch, speeding down a mossy root right towards the clearings edge.

Children’s screams, shrill with terror, echoed from below, cutting through the forest’s silence like a rusty knife. They were so loud Sahar nearly missed it in between the first seconds of shock and his thunderous heartbeat.

This rattling, bone chilling hiss, biting and burying itself deep into one’s very core.

Every hair on Sahar’s body stood. Electrified with fear.

Could it be?

His chest crashed into a thick vine of ivy before he could react or bring his feet to a halt on his race down the slippery root.

Grabbing blindly for the vine, somersaulting thoughts scattering every which way, Sahar caught himself somehow, avoiding a fall down the rocky hillside and meeting certain death as a graceless heap of flailing limbs.

Chest rose and fell with every shuddering breath. He allowed himself to just hang there, hidden within the thick ivy leaves, fighting to get his shaking legs back under control.

The axe’s handle threatened to slip from his clammy fingers and Sahar gripped on tighter, forcing himself to peer through the thick foliage.

A few feet under him, it’s pulsing hairy abdomen turned his way, it stood.

A giant wolf spider.

Its jaws rubbed together in endless agitation, creating this god awful noise.

Sahar wished he could scrub it off his skin. His fingers twitched, rubbing frantically over the smooth wooden handle, as he stared and stared and stared.

Charlotte and the children had encircled the beast somehow, yelling and throwing whatever they could find on the clearing’s rocky ground at it in a desperate attempt to confuse it, keep it from attacking.

So far it seemed to work.

Whenever the beast's eyes looked onto someone, the kids from behind it would hurl stones and mushrooms at its back, forcing the spider’s attention onto themselves.

Its long thorny legs crashed into the ground, kicking dirt and gravel everywhere in its furios thrashing.

That’s when Sahar saw it. Its eyes. He hadn’t noticed at first, between all the movement and blue luminescent mushroom pulp dripping of its body. But one of the spider’s eyes was missing.

The head hunter’s spider!

The controlling device, still rammed deep into its ugly head, had stopped blinking.

The machines malfunctioning must hurt.

No wonder that thing is all over the place.

This was Sahars chance. Hurting, distracted and one eye short, the spider shouldn’t notice him. Not if he came down from above.

Clutching the Axe in both sweaty hands he raised it far above his head. And jumped.

Air rushed past his ears. A storm of raging blood roaring from inside, crashing through his head and drowning his every thought.

There was only gravity left.

Gravity pulling on his limbs, drawing him down faster and faster towards inevitable eight legged death.

But he fell too fast for all the thoughts and fears of disaster to possibly catch up to him. Utterly focused, for the first time in his life, every other thought, the fabric of reality itself ground to a halt.

The only thing still moving were the flexing muscles in his arms and the spider. Abdomen pulsing with its erratic heartbeat. If he could hit that, split the soft flesh there and spill all its blood and guts on the rocky earth, everyone else would live.

The muscles of Sahar’s stomach pulled tight, transforming his body into a bowstring ready to launch.

The children’s surprised shrieks faded to background noise. His biceps bulged, feet drawing closer, his whole body readying for impact.

When suddenly, a pebble, small like a penny, came free from the sole of his heavy work boots. And dropped. Hitting the spider mere seconds before he would. But for vicious instinct carved from hard moving flesh, seconds were more than enough.

The world narrowed to a flash of glistening lidless eyes and pain as a leg, heavy like a tree trunk, bashed him into the hillside. Sahar’s spine lit up in agony. Pain spread through his arm like wildfire. It took everything in him to keep it from exploding.

Just let it. Let it. Don’t waste your time holding back!

No! No no no no, I can’t.

I’m scared.

“Sahar!”

Charlotte’s shriek cut through the storm of his mind, a lighthouse siren guiding all his scattered thoughts in one direction. His eyes snapped open, met midnight black teeth, sharp like daggers and dripping poison. The creature towered over him. Its liquefied promise of pain dripped to the ground.

Sahar’s body felt heavy, a disconnected breathing stone, teetered to the hard earth.

“Sahar! For fucks sake move!”

His limbs had forgotten how to obey his commands. A silent scream existing solely behind clenched teeth. The neurons in his head all failed to fire.

My Axe? It’s gone!

His eyes dropped from the spiders clicking jaws, searching frantically between its thorny legs. As if that thing would do him any good now.

Not against this seething monstrosity.

Dirt danced under its body, swirling up with every shuddering gusts of hot air exhaled through the breathing holes along its abdomen, so hidden under its body Sahar would have missed them if he wasn’t practically cowering under that thing.

He could see children’s legs storming off to safety, scattering and disappearing in between bushes and behind mushrooms. Their bluish glow grew stronger with every second of fading daylight.

Good.

At least he had been able to save them, before-

“I said. Move!”

Charlotte charged at the spider, pale fingers wrapped around the Axe in a death grip. Debris crunched under her shoes, flying every which way.

The weapon swung back into a wide arc, twisting her whole body with the force of her attack.

There was a visceral sort of grace to her, in that moment, in the flexing of her muscles, in the way her soft pink lips twisted back into a snarl, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth.

She was fury incarnate.

Her conviction alone seemed enough to strike that beast down.

It jerked its abdomen high into the air, stubby spinnerets twitching, the only warning before it fired. A wave of white glistening silk erupted from its silk glands, hardening as it flew towards Charlotte. The force of the impact knocked her backwards and she crashed down, fighting for balance on one knee.

Only her head and right arm remained spared from the silvery, hardening restrains that bound her to the ground.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

The Axe’s blade barely left a dent in the silk as Charlotte struggled to cut herself free one handed.

Terror held Sahar’s heart captive, had it flutter and beat with all its might, trying to escape anxiety’s iron grip.

He watched in horror as the spider turned towards Charlotte, its remaining seven eyes flashing green in the mushroom’s glow.

Its mighty body tensed, a barely there tremble rippling through pulp splattered legs. The hiss of slowly opening jaws rung over the clearing, shrill like funeral bells.

“No!”

Finally, Sahars legs moved. Launching him forward with the force of a slingshot projectile.

A gust of breath brushed his left shoulder, warm and surreally alive, as he dived past the spider's abdomen and dashed towards its mouth.

Its hairs tickled the crown of Sahar’s head.

Poison slicked fangs flashed in the last rays of dying daylight as massive jaws moved. Opened. Struck down.

A tooth burrowed deep into Sahars right arm, slicing skin and muscle like a glowing knife would butter. He felt something hard crack and splinter inside him, felt the resistance and inevitable give of his bones as the fang pierced through.

Excruciating agony exploded in his arm, threatened to devour him whole.

His body’s torment broke free with a deafening crack.

The cells of his right arm crystalized. Growing muscles twisted and hardened into an impenetrable shield, crushing the fang still buried deeply in his flesh into a hundred pieces.

Venom welled from Sahars wound, dripped down solid skin, unable to pass the armor of mutated flesh.

He could feel the pressure of the spider’s tooth stump against the wound as it bared down.

New waves of pain welled up, crashed through him like a storm flood, drowning every other sensation, every thought.

Unrelenting jaws squeezed tighter still and tears trickled over Sahar’s cheeks, down his nose, falling to the dusty ground like raindrops.

The other fang graced his ribs. Threatened to break skin.

Oh god. Oh please no.

Conjuring every last remnant of strength hidden in his muscles, Sahars pushed back. The spider’s cool hairy flesh gave under the press of his elbow, the tiniest bit, and its fang pulled back.

He hadn’t thought it possible for this pain to climb higher still, but here it was, whisking him away to a dimension composed solely of suffering.

The scream tearing from his throat didn’t sound like his own. But he could feel it, as it clawed its way out, bursting past his lips in raw desperation.

“Sahar?” The whisper of a voice found its way through the pain filled fog his existence had been reduced to and he forced his eyes open. Whimpering.

When had he even closed them?

Charlotte’s pale freckled face hovered centimeters from his. Splatters of blood trickled down the birthmark of her left cheek and dried in the copper curls of her bangs.

A faint, shuddering part of Sahar realized that this blood was his own.

Her eyes were blown wide and the blue of her irises danced in the surrounding bloodshot white of them.

“What have you done? Oh god what have you done?” There were tears, imprisoned in the tremble of her voice.

I don’t know. My body just moved.

The words were nothing but a whisper in his head, unable to escape a body shuddering and hurting and trapped on the brink of collapse.

He knew how it felt to lose control, over his senses, his mutation, his emotions but nothing had ever felt like this. He’d never felt as disconnected, as betrayed from his own flesh as the moment his knees gave out and he crashed to the ground. The fangs tip tore through his linen shirt, soaking the fabric with poison.

Screwing his eyes shut in terror filled anticipation, Sahar didn’t see Charlotte’s face morph into a ferocious scowl. All bared teeth and fierce determination.

The Axe’s wooden handle splintered under short sharp nails and fury as she swung it, with the strength of 17 years’ worth of hard work living in her muscles.

The spider’s left jaw split with the sickening tearing of flesh.

Sahar’s red blood mixed with the spider’s blue in the dirt as it gushed from the wound and dripped down the Axe.

The spider’s nearly dismembered mandible flapped uselessly from side to side as it sprung back, unsure if to retreat or attack.

With the pressure of its jaws gone, Sahar collapsed onto the blood soiled earth. A few dirt grains danced in the gusts of his labored breaths and the tears Charlotte had so desperately tried to hold on to burst free without restraint The spider webs still held her to the ground as she began to frantically claw at the silken sticky mess, desperate to break free.

Sahars tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he rasped, “Hey. Hey hey hey ‘s fine….. fine now. Let… let me-”

Words failed him, all washed away by a new wave of hot boiling pain as he willed his mutilated, mutated arm to move, despite every fiber of his being wailing protest. Sharp pointy fingertips dug into the silk and tore it apart like a clawed animal clumsily disemboweling its prey. A howling hissing one at that.

He wanted nothing more than to get out of here and for this unbearable pain to finally, blessedly end.

Oh god please just make it stop.

Charlotte’s free hand found its way into Sahars brown unruly hair and scratched over his scalp in slow soothing circles. He leaned into the touch, this something-other-than-all-consuming-pain-feeling and whined softly.

“Shh shhh. Almost done. It’s almost over.”

He continued to rip the silk to shreds until Charlotte was finally freed. She shot up, dragging Sahar with her. He howled in agony.

Hunted blue eyes darted back to the spider, cowering low on the ground. Its seven eyes stared back, glowing in the mushrooms light.

“We have to move, Sahar. That thing‘s not done with us.”

He willed his shaking legs to stumble alongside Charlotte, when a shot rang over the clearing. Loud like a thunderclap announcing a storm.

Flinching hard enough to make him cry out Sahar witnessed the spider collapse. A thick metal stud pierced through its head, painting abstract patterns of dull blue blood and glowing mushroom pulp over its twitching body.

The ferocious predator transformed into a corpse bleeding starlight.

23 notes · View notes

arinmelnikov · 4 years ago

Text

B L O O D F R O M A S T O N E

Another sunrise. The tall, opaque windows in their apartment were a pink and yellow gradient, the sun chasing away the grey of the predawn murk and setting the room alight, liquid gold glowing on every surface. Arin had finished narrowing down the buildings to look at in the woods, and was preparing to leave when his phone buzzed – twice. He crossed the room to it and picked it up, glancing at the screen: Ivan. The first text was a picture, the second a question mark. Zooming in on the picture, he saw it was taken in the street; a brick wall, or the side of a building, plastered with wanted posters, some old and faded, some just printed. Three of them were his, grouped together in a triangle as if one wasn’t enough to get the point across, but that wasn’t what the photo was of. Across them, written in red spray-paint, was a message: IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER COME HOME. Arin called instead of wasting time writing a reply, speaking the second Ivan picked up. “Где это?” “Повсюду. Я видел по крайней мере четв��рых.” He was still outside, the sounds of traffic and the public burbling in the background, underneath his voice. “Они все одинаковые?” “Да. Что происходит?” “Ничего. Я разберусь с этим.” Arin ended the call, putting his phone away. He knew he’d been right about the fucking Bentons, and yet having it confirmed made him more furious still, Gerard’s subdued but smug face sneering at him in his memory. If you want to see her, come home. There was no doubt who the message was for, and there were no doubts as to its meaning – not to him. Perfectly fucking tailored; to anyone else, vague and meaningless, and to him, crystal fucking clear.

Another sunrise, another trap – and just like the first one, he had no intentions of walking into it unprepared.

He hadn’t set foot in or near their old apartment building since they’d abruptly vacated it in the middle of the night, and it was a little strange, seeing it still standing when the last two places he’d lived before it had been razed to the ground. Assuming they’d be watching the street, he approached from the back, out of sight of the apartment’s windows, through an alley that snaked between two of the nearby buildings, over a tall chainlink fence and into the private back area. He stood on one of the dumpsters that were lined up along the wall there and climbed the fire escape up to the fourth floor, approaching the window on the far right and glancing in through it before he stuck one of his blades in between the rails, coaxing open the basic latch that held the lower sash in place. Arin pushed the window open and stepped through, closing it quietly behind him and redoing the latch once he was in. The apartment was still, and its sixty-something alcoholic occupant was nowhere to be seen or heard; the only trace of her was the musty smell that was probably ingrained in the fucking walls by now, and the cloying tang of brandy hanging in the barely breathable air. If he was lucky, she was sleeping. If he was even luckier, she was out somewhere, more likely than not meeting with whatever hookup bitter old cunts had for liquor. Soundlessly, he moved from the hallway he’d landed in and towards the living room and kitchen, looking around but seeing no movement. The glass door to the balcony wasn’t far, but he had to slow down once he reached it, because he needed to be completely silent – he didn’t want whoever was waiting for him on the other side of the wall to be forewarned and ready. After unlocking the door, he carefully slid it open (as small of a gap as he could fit through), internally demanding from the old bag who lived there that she not pick now to fucking show up as he slipped outside and pulled it shut once more.

For a moment, he paused there in the sun, listening, his back pressed against the smooth limestone wall, his breathing slow and even… and he heard it. Voices coming from their old apartment. It was impossible to distinguish what they were saying, nor if they were ones he’d heard before – but it didn’t really matter. Arin, not giving himself another second to consider shit that could go wrong, stepped onto the railing and pushed himself into a standing position again, balancing on the metal banister. His eyes locked on the next balcony, and he jumped, sixty feet of nothing underneath him for one exhilarating heartbeat before he reached the opposite side. He let his boots touch down on the other railing briefly, slowing his momentum but not landing fully, his soles slipping off and hitting the ground with a jolt that he absorbed by letting his legs bend, dropping into a crouch. No time to fucking waste. Unsure if the assholes inside the apartment had heard him, he moved quickly, tugging the gas mask that had been resting on top of his head down over his face and tightening it, freeing the SMG from its holster at his rib, switching off the safety – extracting a gas canister from his pocket and pulling the pin. As it started smoking, Arin pointed his weapon’s muzzle at the bottom left corner of the glass in the door and pulled the trigger. The glass shattered, a hail of glittering shards raining down on him as he threw the hissing canister into the apartment, closely followed by another he’d yanked from his left pocket, the sound of both of them rolling across the floor drowned out underneath the shouts that erupted from inside. If Queenie was in there, she’d forgive him.

Gunfire came next, through the door, hitting the frame and the balcony’s railing, shattering the window above him where he sat crouched against the wall. Arin counted. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. The shooting died down, replaced by indistinct thudding, muted sounds of struggle. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. He let a full minute pass before he got up, stepping through the broken door, glass crunching under his boot as he entered the apartment. All their shit was gone – whether it had been cleared out by the Bentons or the building’s owner, he didn’t know, but it was immaterial, and not what he was focused on at the moment. Four bodies in black tactical gear lay strewn close to each other near the doorway, two on either side. Arin approached one of them, not caring that his carbine was still in burst mode as he aimed at the head of the closest unconscious form and squeezed the trigger, and it was fucking cathartic – the rapid torrent of the three shots exploding through the room, the weapon kicking in his grip, the blood spattering the floor, the wall, him. It wasn’t the actual Bentons – not yet – but it was a step closer than Noriko’s disloyal ass, and it felt fucking good. He moved on to the next soldier, another headshot, and the next, another; three dead pieces of shit, nine bullets, three pools of crimson spreading on oak floorboards, soaking into the wood.

In front of the last soldier, he dropped to a crouch, hands dipping into pockets and patting over hiding places as he stripped the man of any and every tool he had on him. His weapons and ammunition went skidding across the floor, pushed away, his phone was thrown out through the windowless door and off the balcony, plummeting to the ground several stories below, and the communication device in his ear was taken out and stepped on. Arin grabbed the soldier by the collar and hauled him up, propping him against the wall before he brought the back of his hand hard across the man’s face, stirring him from his unconscious state. His movements were dazed, slow at first, confusion glazing his eyes for a long moment before they finally focused on Arin and he tensed, feeling the muzzle brake that was digging into the center of his chest. Arin pushed a little harder, his index finger resting against the side of the weapon, just above the trigger. He wanted to shoot; wanted to look the soldier in the eye, see the realization flash in them, the fear, before the abrupt departure of the fickle little spark that was life – Government fucking filth – but he couldn’t. He needed this one… for now.

“It’s your lucky day, asshole.”

#queenie #para: blood from a stone #( title from beekeeper by keaton henson )

62 notes · View notes

kureis-writing-hell · 3 years ago

Text

What makes us

First || Previous

This one isn't based on a prompt. I tried to base it and it didn't work and I had to scratch it whole. This is a story of Nao's childhood and what happened to him before his 18th birthday.

A series in which Chisaki Kai goes through therapy

Tw: hinted csa (child sexual abuse, it's really just a tiny hunt but it's there), blood, death

Shit went down when Nikodem was only a few years old. In a fight between a hero and a villain his parents died. People told him it was a miracle he was saved, but later on he would regularry think it was rather a curse. It started a life of misery for him: a foster family that gave him away once his quirk manifested, a dirty, poor orphanage ruled by a man, who liked little boys a little too much, another foster family that used him as a servant, another one and another one. No one really wanted him, no one cared about him anymore. Every year less people were interested in adopting him, creeped out by a frowny kid with a crazy look in his eyes.

Often, Nikodem thought that he would never find home. But then he met that girl.

She was new. Other kids kept themselves away from her, even the staff was reluctant to approach her. It was said she predicted her parents’ deaths then, right before she ended up alone, she pointed out the exact date and hour her grandmother died. It was her quirk, obviously. A shitty, creepy one, that made her see a clock on people’s heads, counting down to their deaths.

They got along well. She was two years older than Nikodem but, contrary to the boy, was a bubbly rain of sunshine. Nothing seemed to be able to break her, not her quirk, not the place she ended up in. Despite that, families still wouldn’t take her in.

She told everyone to call her Mara. It was taken from her name and Nikodem found it pretty. Mara was the only one he enjoyed spending time with. He enjoyed her stories, her future plans, the way she could kick ass and piss the staff off. He enjoyed everything about her and would follow her everywhere.

When Mara turned sixteen she stood face to face with Nikodem and told him they were going to run away. There was nothing he wanted more than that - to leave that wretched place. So they packed, gathered a few other kids that wanted to run as well, stole some food and vanished.

No one cared. There was an article about them in some magazine, a handsome man spoke some words about them in the news but other than that no one cared about a few orphans. They left the city, the district, they ran from a train because they didn’t have money to pay for the ticket and Nikodem for the first time ever felt free. Happy.

They had a house. After running they found an old factory in the suburbs of another city. Quickly they learned how to use their quirks for stealing food, clothes, books and whatever they wanted. Everyone had their place in the gang, someone played with old parts and fixed motors, so they could get around easier, someone cooked, someone learned how to patch up wounds. Nikodem quickly started calling them a family, everyone did.

They danced, laughed, watched stars and loved at that time.

“What would you do if you knew you’re going to die tomorrow?”

They were sitting on the tin roof late in the night, only Nikodem and Mara. The rest had a campfire under them, celebrating nothing in particular. The view from the roof was amazing, the stars and the night sky were swallowed by the lights of the city, but it was quiet. At that hour even the city was asleep.

Nikodem turned to Mara, frowning. Finally something clicked and, with a shocked face, he covered his forehead. Mara laughed.

“You can’t cover it, dumbass! Don’t worry, you still have a lot of time. I’m just asking.”

“You did that on purpose.” Nikodem pouted and lowered his hand.

“Maybe! So? What would you do?”

Nikodem thought, for a moment. He turned his face toward the view and watched the lights. Mara drank her beer, waiting for his answer.

“I’d kiss you.”

The girl chocked on the beer, sputtered and looked at the boy surprised. Nikodem could feel his face getting hot, even his ears and neck were probably red at this point, but the color got lost in the darkness. He didn’t dare to look at Mara and even if he would he couldn’t see how she also blushed.

“Okay,” she said finally.

“What?”

“Okay. We may kiss.”

Nikodem looked at her, finally. He again covered his forehead.

“It was true, I’m going to die tomorrow, right?”

“No you’re not, moron!” Mara pushed him playfully, hiding her embarrassment. “I just want to do it too!

And so they kissed, under the stars, on the roof with the best view ever.

They got good at what they were doing quickly. They wore masks for stealing, they used upgraded motors for moving around, they came in, stole what they needed and then wandered around the city freely, because no one would ever suspect a bunch of children. And now everyone was talking about them. Their masks, something they picked up from dumpsters, were so popular everyone knew how they looked. They had fans and enemies and they had heros after them. Yet every night they had a party in their base. They drank alcohol, ate good food, kissed and made love. And they were free.

She never told him, or anyone else from their gang, when they’re going to die. But once she told them about her own number. Apparently she could see it in the mirror and Nikodem never ever hated quirks more than in that moment. It was just wrong.

Mara was sick. There was something in their family, something too scientific for Nikodem to understand, that killed her mother and mother of her mother. Normally, raised in a normal house, she would survive till her late twenties. With expensive treatment and medications she could maybe live till her forties. Her current number allowed her to stay alive till she was twenty three.

Nikodem didn’t accept it. He couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t afford a better living situation or meds. He was angry and he was determined to get even more money, to allow her the treatment she needed. Everyone agreed to him, except Mara. She didn’t want to draw too much attention to them and she was already used to the idea of dying. She was angry at him, for a while. Then she couldn’t anymore.

Nikodem was sixteen when he told her he loved her too much to let her go that easily.

They couldn’t go on the raids when it was raining because it was too risky. They used to store the food for winters because during them it was too dangerous to raid the city. They did only necessary to survive every year. Now, it changed. And now they realised they were way more powerful than they thought. Their gang was classified as rank B villains, with Nikodem deemed their leader, classified as rank A. There was more planning, more stress and way more risk but, surprisingly, it brought them all even closer to each other.

It was just getting warm, the snow still didn’t melt in the darker corners of their base but the days were sunny and bright and hot. And the rain that came wasn’t risky. It was warm, too. It washed over Nikodem’s stress and worries and Mara’s long, pretty dress. And they danced in it, laughed and kissed.

“You’re turning eighteen this year, we should throw you a party!” she said once they were inside, in dry clothes, drinking hot tea.

“It’s still a few months.”

“So? Isn't any reason to party good?”

“But it’s a birthday. We should celebrate it when it comes.”

Mara pouted. She looked so cute, with her nose and cheeks still reddened, wrapped in a blanket from head to toes. He loved her so much.

“Look at you, what made you smile like a dumbass? That’s a rare sight.” Embarrassed, Nikodem turned his face away. Mara laughed and clung to his side. “I like it, you have a funny smile. You should do it more!”

He decided to try his hardest.

Blood.

Everything around him was red and it was his fault.

They were so close to getting enough money for Mara that Nikodem got impatient. He wanted to gather enough as fast as possible and he came out with the idea of that raid. It was going to be the hardest one till now, but they had a good plan. They planned it for a month. And it worked out! But then the heroes found their hideout.

“Those are children! I had no idea those were children, I couldn’t know!” lamented one of the heroes, the one that came in first. Under his quirk the roof of the old factory collapsed, something caught fire and the tanks they had stored exploded. Most of Nikodem’s gang was outside, thankfully, but they also got hurt.

They still had masks on when other heroes arrived. They fought. Nikodem got crushed under the part of the factory and couldn’t get out on time to help them. He had to watch how his friends, his only family, fought for their lives and lost. Blood spilled all around him and he couldn’t do anything.

When he finally got out the heroes were searching for survivors. But no one could survive this. They were either crushed under the factory or fought till death. And Nikodem stood in the puddle of their blood.

It hurted to move, it even hurted to breathe but he had to find Mara. He had to make sure she was alive and help her, and anyone else that still could be alive, escape. He was their leader, he came up with that raid, it was all his fault.

Stepping over the body of his friend, someone he ate breakfast with this morning, he went forward. The heroes were arguing, Nikodem could hear his voices, but didn’t pay attention to them. He took off his mask and threw it away, searching for a different one, one that he knew Mara was still wearing.

He found her, laying right by a part of the factory that miraculously didn’t fall on her. There was still a hole in her stomach that Nikodem immediately jumped to, to cover the bleeding. Mara trembled and huffed something that Nikodem didn’t understand. Holding his shirt against her abdomen with one hand he took off her mask.

Her lips were covered in blood but she was smiling. She kept looking at him and Nikodem was glad she was awake.

“That went to shit, eh?” she rasped.

“Don’t joke now, please.” Nikodem couldn’t hold back his tears. It was slowly hitting him, what exactly happened.

“I want to tell you something.”

“You shouldn’t talk, you’ll tell me once you get better but now you have to save your energy.”

She smiled at him and her smiles were never that sad.

“I knew this was going to happen.” Nikodem only shook his head. “Yeah. I did the math when everyone’s numbers started going down. I never thought they could change before.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Mara coughed and spit some blood. “If anyone’s then it’s mine. I should have told you to stop with the raids but I knew no one would listen. And it made me happy to know you all are doing this for me. Selfish.”

“You weren’t selfish!” sobbed Nikodem. “I was, I wanted to spend more time with you and I took your time away!”

“That’s not true.” She managed to laugh a little. “You actually let me live. Everyone else too, but you especially. Thank you.” Nikodem shook his head again. He could feel blood sipping through the material of his shirt. “Can I have one more selfish request?”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“Live.” Mara lifted her hand and touched Nikodem’s forehead. He grabbed it and helped her keep the arm up, snuggling into it. It was too cold but he didn’t mind. “Your minutes are tickling down but I don’t want you to die because of me. Please, promise me that you won’t die.”

“I don’t want to. How am I supposed to, when everyone is dead? I can’t live without you.”

“You can.” Her fingers brushed just slightly against Nikodem’s forehead. “Please. Do anything you could. Don’t fight these heroes, surrender, do anything you can.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to die knowing everyone I ever loved died because of me.” She was speaking more and more silently. “At least you. Especially you, Niko.”

For a moment Nikodem tried to hold back his tears. But they didn’t. They started flowing harder.

“I promise,” he whimpered. “I’ll do anything. I swear.”

Mara opened her eyes wider and, after a moment, smiled wide. Her thumb brushed against Nikodem’s forehead and then her hand went limp.

“I’ll ask them, I’ll beg them to help you. They’re heroes, maybe they have a healing quirk, you’ll be fine too!” Nikodem made a crooked smile, one that was meant for comfort but he knew Mara would laugh at it. “I could even pay them, the money should be fine in the safe. We’ll be okay.” Mara didn’t answer. Her eyes kept looking at him and her smile didn’t vanish but she wasn’t reacting at all. Nikodem felt his heart sink. “Mara? Mara, don’t joke, please. Dagmara!”

When the heroes found him Nikodem was still sitting by Mara’s body. He didn’t fight, he surrendered and let them handcuff him. He lost everything but he made a promise. And that promise would keep him alive.

#my hero academy #boku no hero fanfic #chisaki kai #boku no hero oc #original character #overhaul

6 notes · View notes

fluffykitty1999-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Dog of the Military- Chapter 28

Chapter 28- Bits and Pieces

"Home sweet couch." Ed strode into the living room, looking relieved to see Roy's tan sofa looking as inviting as it always had after his stint in the hospital. He was planning on sinking into the cushions and reading the latest alchemy books he'd sent Al to the library to get, but he was stopped when Roy placed a hand on his automail shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs.

"You said I could sleep on the couch once we got home." Ed was close to whining. Still, he followed Roy upstairs without too much complaint.

"What- you got a secret couch in your study that's more comfortable or something?"

"No. I just figured after all that time in a hospital and sleeping on couches you might like to have an actual bed." Roy led him down the hall past the open door of his study, with all it's alluring books. He pushed open the heavy oak door to reveal a small, rather sparse room. Flowered wall paper with dark gray spripes behind it, a small twin bed with blue sheets, a bookcase beside it, and a small desk tucked in the corner greeted them.

"Here we are. Your room." Roy said.

Ed was silent, and Roy frowned.

"I know it's a little plain- it was just my guest room for awhile, the only one who really stayed here was Hughes. We can spruce it up if you want, get pictures on the wall or whatever..."

Ed paused, taking a small step into the room.

"It's perfect like it is." he turned, looking behind him at Roy with uncertainty. "It's really mine?"

Roy nodded. "Might as well be. Whenever you're in Central and not out traveling, you're welcome to crash here. There's a spare house key somewhere, I'll have to see if I can find it for you."

Ed nodded, striding across the room to sit on the bed. Roy had already settled the lone suitcase- the only thing Ed really had besides the clothes on his back- containing all the research he'd saved from the dorm fires- beside the desk, and Ed let out a relaxed sigh, flopping on the bed.

He sat up on his automail elbow. "Do you want rent or anything? Room and board? I got money, research allowance and all..."

"I don't want anything from you, Ed. It's easier this way- we don't have to keep playing phone tag with reports, I get to know you're alive when you come home once every few weeks. Besides- you two are hardly in one place long enough to bother with something like that."

"Yeah. Okay, make sense." Ed flopped back on the bed, letting out a contented sigh.

Roy wondered for the first time- how long had it been since Ed had had something he could really call his won? Something besides a standard military issue dormitory or a generic hotel room. He was uncomfortable with the fact it'd probably been years.

"I'll have dinner ready in about an hour if you feel like eating." Roy figured it'd be best to just let the kid relax.

"Yeah, sounds good. Roy?"

Roy paused and turned back towards the room, not sure what the boy was going to say. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything." Ed's golden eyes were soft and unguarded for once, the normal edge and distrust not present.

"No problem, kid."

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

"So we need to go to Fisk and check out the stone mentioned in this passage here." Ed finished brightly, looking up from the book he'd been reading and smiling at Alphonse.

"But brother- we need to stay in Central for awhile. The Colonel said so. Something about Colonel Banks still being on the loose. You know he's out to get you."

"Don't worry about me, Al. I'll be fine- the Colonel worries too much."

"I'm not going with you then." Al said, turning up his armored face in distaste.

"What!? But Alphonse..."

"The Colonel says we need to stay put until Banks is caught, so I'm not going anywhere but Central until he is. It's for your own good, Ed."

"But the military is taking forever to catch him! He could be in Drachma by now for all we know! He can;t keep us here forever!" Ed exploded.

Al gave a clunking shrug.

"Fine." Ed seethed, standing up. "If you won't help me look for the stone until Banks is caught, then we'll just have to catch him ourselves."

Behind a rather upscale restaurant, an old man with wiry gray hair and a bottle of liquor sat against the brick wall, gaze empty as he waited beside the dumpster for scraps.

The man merely paused and looked over apathetically when a blonde boy in a red cloak strode over to him.

"Hey hobo Joe, hows it going?"

"I'm still alive, I guess." the man said hoarsely.

"I brought you something." Ed smiled, pulling a brown bag from his coat. Inside were warm cinnamon buns- still sticky. The man took them and started to eat, the warm frosting getting caught in his unkempt beard.

"What are you looking for this time?" the man asked between bites of pastry.

"Colonel Robert Banks."

"Ah, yes. I saw a newspaper about him. Then I used it to line my boots." the old man said with a smile. His gaze searched Ed, who still had his arm in a sling. "Is he the one that busted your other arm?"

"Yeah. The whole military's looking for him. But the military is full of a bunch of jack wads, some know-nothings. You really have time to watch things out here, hobo Joe. So I figured if anybody knew something, it'd be you."

Hobo Joe shrugged. "Heard news of a new rat in the sewers. And there's been some strange foreign people around lately. You know, when most people don't want to be found down here, they go underground."

"Right. Thanks for the tip, old man. Do me a favor- drink some water." Ed frowned, looking at teh liqour bottle the man was holding. "You know that crap dehydrates you."

"Let me prune up and die in peace, shrimp."

Ed scoffed. He would've exploded, but he was running on a tight schedule. He was on his lunch break, and he'd told Roy he was going to visit Hughes afterwards, so he had about three hours, tops, before Roy was going to wonder where he was.

"You can't go after him alone, brother!" Al sounded upset at the notion as Ed found an unused manhole in a dark alley.

"Al- you can't fit. I'm sorry."

"But what if something happens to you down there? You only have one good arm!" Al protested.

"I can still clap even with the sling. And my arm doesn't hurt that bad, anyways." Ed said simply.

"I'll tell the Colonel." Al threatened.

"The whole reason I'm looking for this crazy jerk is so that the Colonel will let us look for the stone, Al! I'm doing this for you!"

"Well I don't like it!"

"Give me an hour, alright!? If I don't check back in, you can go and get Mustang."

"One hour. Not a minute more." Al said flatly.

"Alright then. See you in an hour." And Ed descended the ladder at half his usual speed, due to his flesh arm being stuck in a sling. Still, he didn't fret about it too much.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The only sound was running water, running down the main channel, and a few rats scuttling about. Ed was tempted to call out for Banks- he knew the man was looking to settle the score with him- but he paused when the corpse of a drowned rat floated by him on the water.

He might not be alone down here. He was reminded of the man with silver eyes who'd tried to take him at the hospital. Drachmans were probably looking for Banks as well. It was best to just keep his mouth shut and observe.

He walked several blocks underground, watching the dingy brown sewer water float by. He turned down another tunnel- this one was larger, there was more wter flowing. He noticed there was a small empty space, about two feet tall and three feet deep, at the base of the wall. Just big enough for a mini-fridge lying on its side to fit in. though why anyone would have a mini fridge down here, Ed couldn't fathom. It was just the only unit of measure that came to mind.

There was a circular grate at the edge of the tunnel, about fifty feet away. Water flowed between the bars like a waterfall, and the tunnel continued to both the right and left in either direction. Ed was planning on going left. when he reached the T-shaped junction, but he paused when he noticed a figure a mere twenty feet from him.

Whoever it was was dressed in black completely, and there was someone sitting at their feet.

Ed watched the odd, shambling walk as the figure took a few steps towards his tunnel before eh felt the icy fingers of dread gripping his heart. Whoever this was, it wasn't banks, and his palms itched and heart pounded with the need to get far, far away from him.

He turned and ran back down the tunnel towards where he came. He had about thirty seconds before the man turned into the tunnel and saw him. He was grateful for the noise of flowing water covering him as he turned and sprinted back the way he'd came, stumbling and nearly falling, only to notice the small empty compartment right beside him...

He rolled into the small crevice, letting out his breath in slow pants as he tried to calm his hammering heart.

Had he been quick enough? Or had the man already turned into the tunnel and seen him?

He couldn't tell if he was being pursued or not, and he didn't dare peek out and check and risk revealing himself if he hadn't already.

At first, the only thing he could hear was the sound of water pouring down through the grate and into the small channel flowing down the tunnel, and his heartbeat in his own ears. But gradually, as whoever it was approached him, he heard the footsteps increasing in volume. He squeezed his eys shut. He was at a disadvantage- the man could've already seen him, could've been hunting him right now, and he wouldn't have known it. All he could do was wait and pray he hadn't been seen.

He was hunched over on all fours- it was a painfully cramped position, and he scooted himself farther back into the recesses of the small crevice he was in, pressing his automail palm to his flesh hand in the sling. Even if he was caught, he could still manage one good transmutation to defend himself if he needed to.

In the rear corner in front of him, a rat sat, chewing on something it held between its fore paws as it sat on its hind legs. It didn't give him a second glance.

Ed could spend no more time looking at the creature, because the footsteps were right outside, now- he could see the pair of black boots and pants just outside his crevice. The man stopped walking.

Ed's heartbeat was so loud he couldn't hear what the man mumbled to himself, though he heard the familiar flick of a lighter and smelled cigarette smoke, before the man continued on walking. His heart was still racing, even as he listened to the footsteps fading into the distance. He was left alone with the sound of running water from the grate behind him.

Still- he had to wait. He wanted to make sure the man- whoever he was- was long gone before he dared come out.

He counted to 300, willing his purse to stop pounding and his hands to stop shaking.

He tried to focus on whatever was in front of him. The rat in the corner had grown tired of sharing its space with him- it cast whatever it was chewing on at its feet in front of him and scurried out of the small alcove, chattering its teeth as it went.

Ed frowned, something about the object the creature had dropped drawing his attention. It looked like a small stick of some kind, but there was something brightly colored on the end...

He reached forward, picking it up and looking at it.

It was a finger nail. He looked down at the base of what he was holding- a shimmer of ivory bone leered out beneath severed muscle and sinew...

He dropped the finger on instinct, turning his head to the side and vomiting whatever little lunch he'd eaten onto the concrete beside him. He was shaking, choking and retching- he clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the noise- his heart had begun to pound in his chest again, and he shook both in fear of what he'd found and that he'd be heard, the man would come back.

It was painful to try and hold it back, though- vomit scorched his nostrils and seeped between his fingers, and He stopped trying to muffle it, letting his stomach rebel one last time until he was quietly dry heaving.

When it was over he just laid on the ground, catching his breath and trying to stop his trembling. He needed to move. He needed to get up and get out of here. He was in over his head.

He looked dully forward at the detached human finger, reaching over with his automail hand. He was grateful he couldn't feel the texture of the dead skin on his metal hand, and he picked up the limb and slid it into his pocket. It was evidence, after all.

He took a deep breath, steeling his frayed nerves, and ducked his head out from beneath the alcove, peering around. The man in black was nowhere in sight- he was in the clear. He crawled out like a snake on his belly, hurriedly getting to his feet. He couldn't head back the way he came- that was where the man had been headed. He'd just have to hope that the man didn't go back where he'd already been.

He kept running down the passageway, turning to the left towards where the man had come from. He paused at the mouth of the new tunnel- the person who'd been sitting at the man's feet, back against the wall of the sewer, was still there.

He wasn't sure if they'd seen him, but something about it all seemed off. He approached cautiously- it was a woman, and she was slumped over like she was hurt...

There was blood around her. He'd thought it was water at first, but when he stepped in it and the scent of copper hit him, he knew.

If he hadn't already thrown up, he probably would've by now.

He chin rested on her chest, and he fumbled to pull his flesh arm from the sling, not noticing the pain as he moved his injured arm to place his fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none.

She only had nine fingers. And they all sported the same bright purple acrylic nails as the finger in his pocket.

Somehow, he'd sunk to his knees and he was trembling again. He couldn't take her with him- she was dead weight, just a body, logically, he knew that, but her family deserved to see her again, to have a proper burial...

A rat shrieked behind him, and he whirled, startled, scrabbling through the grime on his backside.

What had he come here for again? He didn't know, but his heart thrummed in his throat, and he tried to push himself up with his flesh arm only for a spike of pain to send him crashing back down onto the grimy concrete. He managed to push himself up with his automail arm, though, regained his footing, and he was sprinting, running, running through the tunnels blindly.

He had to get out of here. He had to get out before that man came back or he found another body or something horrible happened.

He nearly ran past the ladder. He came skidding to a stop before the rusted metal loops, frantically climbing them, his boots slipping in the grime he'd acquired while in the sewer.

He wrestled with the manhole cover above, feeling blessed sunlight on his skin. his head and chest free from the underground prison, he breathed the fresh air, trying to calm his dizzying thoughts. He didn't look below him- but a hand grabbed on his flesh leg on the ladder, and he yelped.

He kicked out frantically with his automail leg- there was a crunch, and he scrambled the rest of the way out of the manhole and ran, blindly into the streets. He didn't stop running until he was almost to headquarters.

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

"Hey Roy- how's it going?"

Roy looked over, baffled, as Hughes plopped his tray down across from his friend in the military mess hall.

"What's with that look? Aren't you glad to see me?" Hughes asked, frowning at Roy's expression.

"You're not in your office."

"No, I'm not. I figured I'd have lunch over here today. IS something wrong?"

"No. But Ed said he was going to visit you after he went out for lunch. That was three hours ago."

"I haven't seen him all day." Hughes frowned, pushing his glasses up on his nose and his tray to the side, standing at the same time Roy did.

"What are you thinking?" Hughes asked as they headed towards the doors.

"I'm thinking he lied to me. He wanted to give me the slip- he's been on a short leash lately with everything going on- he;s probably out investigating by himself." Roy said, tight-lipped. His eyes had gone dark with anger.

"Where do you think he'd go?"

"I'm not sure." Roy palmed the front doors of HQ open, only to be met by the clanging sound of metal armor running up to him.

"Colonel!"

"Alphonse. Where's your brother?" Roy asked, voice cold.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. He heard a rumor Colonel Banks was hiding out in the sewers and went down to try and capture him- I tried to tell him not to go alone, but he wouldn't listen. He said he'd check in with me in an hour, but it's been nearly three, and i can't fit through the manhole to look for him myself..." Alphonse was wringing his gauntlets nervously.

Hughes had gone pale. "Roy, the sewers..."

"I know, Hughes." Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "go get the team- we're sending all our men in."

"Looks like we don't have to. Here comes our rebel without a cause now." Hughes looked into the distance, as did Roy. A signature red figure was bobbing in the distance- stumbling, actually.

Roy broke into a jog, as did Hughes and Alphonse, to meet the boy half way.

Ed was practically shambling, looking behind him frantically at times.

"Fullmetal."

Ed flinched at his tone, but the relief on his face when he saw the Colonel was visible, and his tense shoulders relaxed.

The boy was, quite frankly, a mess. He was drenched from the knees down in grime and filth, sweat and dirt on his face- his white gloves had been soiled, and his hair was starting to escape his braid.

"Colonel."

"You lied, Fullmetal. You lied to me to go off and do something stupid on your own."

"Yeah, I did."

Roy paused. Ed was actually admitting he did something wrong instead of arguing with him. This was new.

"I know it was stupid, and I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realize how dumb I was being until it was almost too late."

"Brother, what do you mean it was almost too late!?" Alphonse asked, going ramrod straight in shock.

Roy raked his eyes over the boy, searching him for any sign of injury- but aside from his braced arm, which hung limp at his side, having been freed from his sling, there was nothing obvious.

"I need to talk to you and Hughes, Colonel." Ed admitted, eyes serious. "Alphonse- go upstairs to the office."

"Whatever you need to tell them, Ed, I can hear it too. I'm your brother." Al protested.

"And I'm the military dog!" Ed snapped. Al stepped back, surprised at the outburst. Ed's expression softened. "Sorry, Al. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just... I need to talk to them about something, and it doesn't have anything to do with the stone or our search. Nothing to do with our goal. It's military business- I promised I'd be the one to deal with that, not you."

"I just wanted to help you, Ed. I always want to help."

"I know." Ed stepped forward, resting his automail hand on his brother's chest plate affectionately. "Trust me, Al, I know. I'm sorry I was such a jerk about going off on my own today. I've been so eager to get back to searching for the stone that I've been a little reckless lately. The most help you could be to my right now is to go upstairs and read over the research summary notes I left on my desk. I'll join you to talk about them soon."

"Okay." BONK! Al brought his closed gauntlet down on the top of Ed's head.

"Ow! What was that for, Al!?" Ed protested.

"I was knocking some sense into you. Maybe next time you'll use it instead of being an idiot." Al said simply, before he was turning and striding back into HQ.

Ed sighed, looking up at Roy and Hughes with a tired expression. "You guys gonna chew me out too?"

"Probably. But I'm going to hear what you have to say first. Start talking." Roy crossed his arms over his chest, scrutinizing Ed carefully.

Ed sighed. "So I've been a little stir crazy because I've been cooped up in Central. I want to keep looking for the stone, but you said I'm supposed to stay close by until Banks is apprehended, and I know the Drachmans have something out for me now too, and I figured I'd be able to get back on the move sooner if I went after Banks myself. I heard he was in the sewers from my informant..."

"You have informants now, do you?" Hughes asked, looking amused. "And just who would they be?"

"My sources are none of your business." Ed replied, brows furrowing together. "Anyways, I was in the sewers looking for him. And I ran into someone... I don;t know who it was, but it wasn't Banks. I got this feeling- I don't know what it was, but I got the same feeling right before I lost my leg, so I knew enough to trust it. I hid- whoever he was, he didn't see me. I managed to get to the exit. But... I found some things. Some bad things."

"Like what?" Hughes asked, though he knew it was a loaded question.

"I found a dead body." Ed had stopped walking, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to bring her body back with me. For her family. But I didn't have time- I didn't know when he was coming back. I barely got away as it was, I was climbing out of the manhole when he grabbed my leg and tried to drag me back down..."

"There's more than just Banks in the sewers, Ed. There's rapists and murders and drug addicts down there too." Hughes said quietly.

"Yeah- no kidding. I'm never going back there."

"No, you're not. Because you're now on house arrest- you're to be with me or a member of the team at all times. You're not going out to lunch anymore- you can eat in the mess hall like the rest of us. You'll either be at HQ or at home. Nowhere else. Understood?"

"Yeah, I guess." Ed looked at the ground kicking a stray pebble.

Hughes and Roy exchanged glances. Ed wasn't fighting tooth an nail. The boy was probably really rattled form what he'd experienced- maybe the boy was growing up and realizing it was for his own good. Or maybe he just wasn't in the mood to fight anymore.

"Hughes. I brought back some evidence- it was the only thing I could carry."

Hughes held out his hand expectantly, and Ed fished around in his pocket for a moment before he was depositing it in Hughes palm.

It was only the fact that Hughes and Mustang had been to war and seen carnage far worse that kept both men from visibly reacting.

"Hit the showers and get back to the office. We'll talk more about this later." Roy ordered curtly.

Ed nodded, ducking into HQ and keeping his head down. He'd had enough adventure for one day.

What do you think of our new seiral killer? Also- if you want to leave an encouraging comment or constructive criticism, here’s the obligatory link ;) https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12 .

#fma #fma fanfiction #Fullmetal Alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #Roy Mustang #edward elric #Parental Roy #parentalroy #whumph #whump #hurt/comfort #hurt #comfort #dogofthemilitary #injury

7 notes · View notes