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diseaseriddencube · 6 months

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*stares at your blank scarless arm* promise you'll start, for me

Azusa x Cutthroat x fem Reader

word count: 1933

content: self harm, it's not smut but there is moaning, and kissing, there's non con stabbing, also con stabbing 😍

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The bed shifted slightly under your combined weight as the vampire next to you leaned closer, a light finger stroked down your bare arm. You nearly flinched, you had not been treated well by anyone over the years, let alone vampires, but his touch was nothing but gentle, nothing to be concerned with.

“Promise….you’ll start…for me….” he whispered, his cold lifeless breath barely scraping your ear. You shifted back a millimeter, “...start what exactly?” you hesitated to ask. The answer almost revealed itself as fast as he produced a knife from who knows where.

“You want to cut me?!” you nearly shrieked, but he placed a gentle hand upon yours, shushing you softly.

“No, I want…you…to cut…yourself”

Myself? Was he insane? Scratch that question, he revealed that aspect long ago, but wanting you to mar yourself was a new level.

His gaze was captivating you with puppydog eyes as he slipped the handle into your fingers, wrapping his hand over yours. Your combined hands lifted, placing the blade across your other wrist, you felt almost numb, this situation went from relaxing to such a quick progression into madness you could barely process how far into the rabbit hole you had fallen. The slightest bit of metal kissed your skin, not cutting, but you flinched; sharp movements, skin on blade, blade in skin, his desire had been met all too well.

The cleaving of your flesh had not been as deep as you feared, only a single drop of blood beaded to the surface. You released the knife, letting it fall into Azusa’s possession once more, in order to inspect your wound. He leaned back to give you room, though he was very obviously glancing at the damage he inflicted, and barely holding back his smile. Footsteps outside of the room barely registered in your head as you dabbed your finger in the blood, playing with the quickly coagulating surface tension. Sweat dribbled down your neck as the door creaked open, on the edge of your conscious attention.

“I smell blood,” a low but playful voice called across the room. The shock of it almost made you fall backwards into the mattress, though you held composure well enough, your arm had flung back though, sending a single drop flying to stain the bed sheet. And this intruder’s eyes locked onto that tiny speck of red like an eagle hunting its prey.

The tall man entered the room, cloaked in white. This was no vampire, as pale as he was, or as deathly as he seemed, there were no fangs in that mouth. He was an oddity, stranger so than your situation with the vampires, they just let him stroll into their manor; they never sucked his blood, they never spoke to him. You had suspected him to speak with Azusa on occasion but you could never truly confirm this. He never told any of you his name, and so he became known to you as the Cutthroat. The vampires were certainly an odd bunch, but they could not compete with Cutthroat. Not a vampire, yet he returned home with new blood staining his clothing every night. You had a guess as to what was wrapped up in those bandages, and chances were that he and Azusa could surely bond over it should your theories prove to be truth.

He stalked closer, silent as a ghost like his clothing imitated him to be, he glided across the floor, almost landing in your lap. He was deadset, focused on one thing only, the wet wound that was crusting upon your arm. His intentness scared you, he spoke not a word, even Azusa merely watched in curiosity as he picked up your arm to inspect it. His hands were freezing, though you knew him to be surely human.

He mouthed a word, again, and again, staring into your wound, already darkening and coagulated. He became almost audible, yet breathy and silent, red, red, red

There was a strangeness in his eyes now, not that he ever looked quite okay in the head, but you certainly were unsure of this particular look.

“Can I cut you too?” he breathed, his mouth opening made your stomach churn. His teeth, they were perfect, white as the rest of him and straight like a military cemetery. But they were wrong, like an uncanny valley, too perfect for human, they should’ve been fangs, rows of shark teeth would suit him better.

You shrunk back, looking to Azusa for help, you shouldn’t have taken your eyes off him for even a moment.

For the second time today, a knife pierced your flesh, so deep into your arm it stuck out on its own when he released it. You screamed, your voice scraped against your throat and you scrambled back, tangling yourself in the fabric. Cutthroat pounced on you, reclaiming his knife from your tender flesh, opening a new pathway for the blood to flow. Your juices streaked the blade, the fire in his eyes reflecting in the metal, and your terrified face staring back at you on your respective side of the knife. He lowered it just below your eyelines, but his attention snapped away just as quickly, looking over his shoulder at the vampire tapping him.

“If…she doesn’t…want it……you can…cut me…instead…” he offered, oh so kindly, to save you from this madness, though more likely to bring himself a greater ecstasy of pain that you could never willingly provide him. Cutthroat snapped up this opportunity, dragging a blade across the skin Azusa so proudly presented to him. Blade went through bandage, strips of white fabric dropped to the floor, alongside drips of bright red liquid. Azusa let out a soft moan of happiness.

You squirmed back even more, trying not to make yourself noticed in their preoccupations of pain and blood. You would’ve gotten up and run, but something told you, a knife would be thrown at your head if you tried to escape this bloodbath. So you watched, a deer in the headlights, as the wolves went at each other only a pace away. Cutthroat didn’t hold back, he was more hardcore than any slasher movie villain, Azusa’s arm would be unrecognizable in seconds if he didn’t stop soon.

You were shocked that he wasn’t making a fuss over Cutthroat cutting over his beloved scars, the ones you heard him talk to as though they were his friends. But Azusa seemed to be in too much absolute bliss to notice.

Azusa withdrew his arm, drenched and dripping with thick blood, and tugged on the bandages under Cutthroat’s sleeve. Staining them as he unraveled them, pushing up his sleeve as he did. Cutthroat didn’t object as his arm became exposed to the world. Scars littered his arm, so heavy and deep they changed the silhouette, his entire arm may as well have been pure scar tissue, it was a shock he could even operate it anymore.

Azusa’s blood dripped upon his arm, running down and settling in the grooves of his scars. You had expected something like that to be hiding under his bandages, but you could have never anticipated it to look so extreme, even Azusa’s scars could not compare. Azusa was practically glowing as he sized up a new surface to inflict pain on, as a loving gift to return to the one who shredded his own arm.

He was far more purposeful with his cuts, in extreme contrast to Cutthroat’s messiness, neither seemed to mind it. In fact, mid-cut, Azusa moves his head closer to the other’s. Leaning in, Cutthroat not leaning away, were they going to-

Lips collided, fangs pressed deep in his gums. This had already been a sick display, but it had veered straight into absurdity, did they have something going on? Is this why he was allowed into the manor so freely? Azusa pushed his knife in, eliciting a muffled moan from Cutthroat, deepening their kiss. You could see blood, and you could almost guarantee tongues were being exchanged. You felt a gag rising, and you so foolishly let it become audible.

In an instant, their eyes snapped to you, suddenly reminded that you were a participant in this madness. They withdrew from each other, eyes still locked on you, bloody saliva still hanging between their jaws.

Cutthroat broke the silence, “You should join the fun, shouldn’t you, darling?” his voice was deceptively light, if it was out of context, you’d assume he was inviting you to a playdate, but with all the blood on the floor, you felt your fate being sealed.

They both crawled over to you, each pinning one of your arms before you could shuffle away. You squirmed under their grasp. Your eyes were clenched tight, oblivious to Cutthroat raising his arm, and bringing it right down on your stomach. The adrenaline surged so hard you hardly felt it, yet you struggled harder.

A small laugh to you right side, “isn’t…the pain…wonderful…?” and a gleeful whisper to your left, “it’s red”

You cried out, yet your sobs only seemed to stretch the edges of their smiles. Though you felt numb, the sound of a knife hacking into you was a sound from beyond your wildest nightmares, it reminded you of cutting watermelons, a dull chop, the splitting of flesh and juices spilling. The fabric of your shirt opened to accommodate every stab, and became heavy and warm, slicked with your own blood. Cutthroat laughed, his awful laughter echoed against tall ceilings. His laugh was melodic, almost beautiful in any other context, but here and now, it was grating, horrifying, it seeped into your bones deeper than his knife ever could. If you died here and now, you were sure that laugh would haunt you right into hell.

The stabs stopped, and you squinted your eyes open as your right arm was released. Cutthroat continued to laugh, he continued to stab, but not into you, right into Azusa’s chest.

Stab,

Azusa didn’t look so happy anymore, the famed masochist of the household, and he looked….afraid, like this was a game he was happy to play until it no longer went his way.

You thought vampires were unkillable, but as Azusa went limp over your own dying body, you were suddenly unsure. You were almost drowning in the bed by now, weighed down with Azusa’s body and Cutthroat’s death grip on your arm. Blood from all three of you soaked down into the layers of foam, if you were more lucid about the situation, you may have felt bad that Azusa would have to replace his bed, but fortunately, mattress shopping would have to wait until you weren’t actively bleeding out under the hands of a madman. And this madman just had to be a little more mad, by leaning down to scoop blood from Azusa’s wounds onto his tongue.

Carefully cupping the blood in his mouth, he brought himself to your lips, pressing them against yours. His hands had moved to grip the sides of your skull, forcing you to accept the brutal kiss. His tongue weaved its way into your mouth, transferring his and Azusa’s ‘gift’ down your throat. You choked on the blood, the kiss was suffocating, but that would quickly become the least of your concerns.

You felt something along your neck, and warmth flowing down your body, new blood gurgled in your throat to mix with the gifted blood. Your last sight was the faintest reflection of a red ring in his eyes as he finished slitting your throat, allowing you to join Azusa.

#rave ramblees #akudama drive #azusa mukami #diabolik lovers #yes this is a crossover of equal caliber to the cutthroat x togami high school au smut fic 😍#i unfortunately didn't write something of such greatness #but oh well

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tanoraqui · 2 years

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I apologize if I’ve only recently sent an ask but I just wanted to say I am so enjoying your Fixes the Noldor au. It’s utterly delightful

(I have dyslexia and got doubtful of my ability to spell the full title at the last moment, I’m very sorry)

-@outofangband

Thank you! I’ve never written anything this OC-centric this long before (and lbr, even the most established Silm characters are like 50% original in fic), so every compliment is very blush-inducing. You like my original blorbos! My ORIGINAL blorbos! Mine! Wow! (Does that mean you’d like even more original blorbos in more original circumstances?!…)

Though man, I am SUFFERING the tragedy that the only way get more Original Blorbo content is…to write it myself… I like Celechwes so much; she’s so selfish but in a Discworld witch way, wherein she WOULD face Morgoth with a frying pan and tell him to get the fuck off HER lawn, if she had any reason to believe it would work. She basically thinks of the Noldor as mercenaries with good timing. Of the Ainur, she always refers to Ulmo with the title “Lord”, as well as “Lord Ossë” and “Lady Uinen”, for they have ever been good to her people, and Melian she always speaks of with respect, and all other Valar or Maiar are on a first-name basis bc what does she know or really care of them? The Great Eagles, she respects and considers her friends because they soar magnificently and race her for mutual fun. There’s definitely at least one younger Eagle who thinks of her as a weird little sister.

I think Manwë likes her just for that, because he likes when his people (the Eagles) are happy and in general he likes when people are unusual friends. But I like to think of Manwë being kinda fated to be fond of the House of Fingolfin so I’ve been toying with the thought that, as part of his domain of the sky, and in mirror to Melkor the Constrainer, Manwë is also Vala of…Freedom, essentially. That perhaps the reason he was put in charge is that his part in the Great Song includes, or at least comes closest to, the very concept of Free Will—a good thing for a King of All of be ever-conscious and -caring of! But also a thing that makes ruling no easier, because so many people’s wills (and benefits) are so often in opposition to one another with no evil marring at the root of the divide at all. The world, the Song, is just complex. …But the point is that Manwë likes Celechwes because she is, yes, narratively, the Spirit of Free Beleriand the way Spirit the horse (in the eponymous movie) is the Spirit of the Untamed West. Because the origin of her character was the questions, who would both Fingon and Maedhros fall in love with, and who would fall in love with both of them? Who would bring them together, and why/how, when they never have before? And who is it thematically right to be Gil-galad’s mother? And the answer to all is, the best parts of Exile and life across the Sea: the things with protecting there and the true honor in doing so, the freedom from past feuds and the chance to start anew, also a dash of feralness and unending defiance. So that, as best I can do, is Celechwes.

She and Maedhros each think they’re “the sensible one” in this relationship but of course all three of them are unhinged and it is NOT that Fingon is the only one who knows it, Fingon is just the only one who acknowledges that he himself is not the sensible one. He thinks it’s Maedhros, though he concedes that the bar is low. Maedhros and Fingon both default to Quenya when impassioned and Celechwes thinks it’s sweet, so essentially the three of them speak Sindarin most of the time and Quenya as a sex thing, or while tenderly cuddling afterward.

There’s about 90% of 1 more chapter of raw fluff, and then Everything Goes Wrong 😃🔥🐉 😭. But then there will be three more chapters after that, with a final chapter summary of, “In which there is a Celechwes loose in Aman. That’s never happened before. No one knows what she’s going to do next, least of all Celechwes!”

#celechwes au #outofangband #‘I like your fic’ ‘DO YOU WANT SEVERAL PARAGRAPHS OF EXTRA INFO ABOUT THE MAIN CHARACTER?!’#my fic

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kinglazrus · 2 years

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Tag Game

@9-circles-of-l tagged me in this more than a week ago but, apparently, I've had @ notifications off for much longer than that so I didn't see it right away. Thank you for tagging me! You can check out their answers to the game here.

Nicknames: Laz, Alis, every possible variation of my irl name. Peanut, Pikachu, puppy are all nicknames from my Mom

Zodiac sign: Capricorn

Favourite musicians: currently Low Roar is a big favourite of mine, but it really depends on what I'm listening to most at the moment

Favourite sports team: my hometown teams, plus the Eagles for football

Sports I watch: hockey and football mostly when I have the chance, but I'd watch more if I could

Other blogs: @danny-eats-his-oatmeal, @unluckyalis, @lazsnotebook for writing resources, although I'm planning on overhauling that one. Also @invisobang

Do I get asks: sometimes when I reblog ask games. I used to get a decent amount and had a whole bunch of lore related to different anons but they stopped sending asks

How many blogs do I follow: 142. I tried whittling it down to be mostly mutuals but I started missing great DP content so it's back up a bit

Tumblr crushes: @q-gorgeous of course ;)

Lucky numbers: 17, 24, 26

What am I wearing: black hoodie and blue pyjama shorts

Dream vacation: New Zealand maybe? There are a lot of places I would love to go but New Zealand is high on the list

Dream car: idk as long as it's a red convertible. I have one now and I want one forever

Favourite food: dill pickle sunflower seeds. I would die for dill pickle sunflower seeds

Favourite drink: lemonade

Instruments: piano and drums. I want to learn guitar, too. I would like to be mediocre at a lot of instruments. I think that would be cool

Languages: English and a pittance of French. An even smaller pittance of German

Celebrity crush: none unless @q-gorgeous can count. They should totally count. Number one swagger bishie shipper, that's worth something

Tagging: @q-gorgeous, @nickelodeonstudios, @wastefulreverie, @ghostgothgeek

#tag game #one am is probably a bad time to post this but if I save it as a draft I won't remember it tomorrow

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frauleindermorgen · 2 years

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It has been more than a moon ago that Pelleas had been sucked into the world of his favorite novel, and there was this underlying horrifying fear he had held in that time that by the time he came back, if he ever did manage it, that things would not be as he had left them. What if time ran differently? What if when he returned, things had become different now? What if his absence had been too long to recover from?

So when he sees Micaiah again for the first time, right where he hoped she might linger near one of their usual haunts, he is crushed by the weight of something edging upon relief but not quite.

There was always a chance things could swerve to the unexpected. He remembers that memory from seasons ago, taking him back to a time he had thought he knew like the back of his hand only to show a different outcome entirely.

The fear that something like that might occur again here, that when Micaiah turns around she might not look at him like she had a month ago, grips Pelleas so strongly, telling him to turn away and run now before he has to find out whether or not this would be true.

But… he told her he'd try to be strong, and that version of himself who would run at the first sign of discomfort could hardly be called strong at all. And so he takes those steps forward towards her and calls quietly but certainly enough there:

“ Micaiah… ”

Perhaps even braver still, in spite of how anxious he visibly was by the look on his face, he reaches for her hand, cradling it in his own, as he admits in a softer, even quieter voice so low as to be easily missed:

“ I… I missed you terribly, Micaiah… ”

Pelleas, if you're in there you have to be, I know you must be fighting hard. Keep at it! Everyone here is doing all they can out here to bring you back.

myself especially

I miss you. Stay well.

Micaiah hadn't been the only one with the idea to put a message in Memories of the Hills; some enterprising students had even written pages and pages of new story in hopes it would let their classmates come home, but just like as the Projectionist's attempts had failed so too had their own.

It seemed, like her own ordeal in Leicester, what was needed here was time.

Micaiah did her best to to about her day normally, playing to Yune and Ashera as she always did but recently adding an extra benediction to the Fodlan goddess.

She believed on Pelleas, truly; but if there any deities that could help him then Micaiah would petition them all.

She's about to dust the Black Eagles classroom again (because when she worries she at least makes sure to be efficient about it) when he finds her. She turns around, breath stuttering at the familiar voice and when he's in arms reach finally saying her name she can't help the half-smile half-sob.

His hand is warm and real in hers and if she grasps it too tightly, well, she'll just have to apologize later.

"Pelleas! Oh, thank Ashunera you are alright. You are, aren't you?"

She steps back a bit, hand still in his, so as to get a better look at him; standing tall so as to get the entirety of his profile. He's tired, she can tell; but he's here. She relaxes after using her other hand to trace his energies with her healing magic, and content that he has come out the winner (as she beloved he would) Micaiah relaxes into his touch, head against his chest.

"I missed you too, of course I did; I was so worried. Next time you go on an adventure like that be sure to warn me."

Her tone is intended to be light, to ease his worries, but her lingering touch belies her true feelings. She won't let him slip away again so easily.

#;answered #pirrhyc #((thrilled that pelleas being eaten by a book for a month is now canon but then realized like))#((huh micaiahs gonna have to process that one))#((not pictured: the other letters Micaiah wanted to write to the dawn brigade but didnt send bc international incidents bad))

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packernet · 1 year

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New Post has been published on https://www.packernet.com/blog/2022/12/20/packers-must-be-patient-with-dynamic-duo/

Packers must be patient with dynamic duo

The Green Bay Packers made two moves in the 2022 NFL Draft to acquire wide receivers Christian Watson and Romeo Doubs. Following the trade of Davante Adams to the Las Vegas Raiders, the Packers’ receiving corps was in dire need of reinforcements. To say Aaron Rodgers was displeased would be an understatement. The loss of his best wideout, one of the premier players at his position in the entire league, spelled trouble. Rodgers’ frustration was evident in training camp as his fledgling receivers struggled to find their feet working to the high standards of one of the top quarterbacks of his generation.

Watson drew the ire of Rodgers in the first game of the season with his very first pass, dropping a sure touchdown against the Minnesota Vikings. It was a moment that encapsulated the Packers’ start to the season. Since then, they have endured a miserable campaign and have had to watch the Vikings turn themselves into contenders for the Super Bowl. It would be gut-wrenching for Packers fans to see Minnesota clinch the Vince Lombardi Trophy after so many recent near misses, with Kevin O’Connell’s side backed in the NFL odds at +1800 to win the crown.

It is difficult to say, the incident was a sliding doors moment for the two teams in 2022. Whereas Justin Jefferson and Kirk Cousins have been a thorn in the side of every team, Rodgers has been in a battle to inspire Watson and Doubs to break through their rookie struggles to blossom into the weapons that the Packers require if they are to return to the top of the NFC North and back into contention for the Super Bowl.

Overcoming Issues

Although Watson had a low moment on the first play of the season, the 23-year-old has responded to coaching from Matt LaFleur and Rodgers and is flashing the talent that prompted the Packers to use a high second-round pick on the wideout. He had a breakout game against the Dallas Cowboys in week 10 of the campaign, notching three touchdowns in an upset for LaFleur’s men on the road.

Watson added a further two touchdowns to his tally against the Tennessee Titans before notching a score and 110 receiving yards in a defeat to the Philadelphia Eagles. He has become a threat in the endzone for the Packers, but the challenge now for the 22-year-old is to become a consistent player on every down. Watson has been used more for big plays rather than as a possession-receiver to move his team down the field. It may take time for him to learn the nuance of the position and the preferences of his quarterback, but the fact that he is slowly becoming a playmaker is encouraging.

Injuries

Doubs was taken two rounds after Watson with the 132nd pick in the 2022 NFL Draft, but he appeared to earn the trust of Rodgers more quickly than his teammate. He put in an excellent performance in week three against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, collecting eight receptions for 73 yards and a touchdown in a tight contest.

Doubs’ catches were crucial in defeating Tom Brady and company on the road. He notched his second touchdown of the season against the New England Patriots, although he also had a drop in the endzone that could have been costly.

Consistency and injuries are two of the key factors that hinder the development of wideouts in the NFL. Unfortunately for Doubs, his progress was stymied by an ankle injury sustained in week nine against the Detroit Lions. The 22-year-old does have the chance to get back on the field in the closing weeks of the campaign, and if he can pick up where he left off then he can take the positives from a bright rookie season into his second year.

Patience

Green Bay have to show patience with their young wideouts, especially considering they have already flashed their talent at different times during the season. It is easy to forget that it took time for Adams to develop into an All-Pro caliber wideout. In Adams’ rookie season, he had the chance to develop and learn behind Jordy Nelson and Randall Cobb at the peak of their powers. Both wideouts were outstanding and allowed Adams the time to learn the game. He notched only 38 receptions for 446 yards and three touchdowns.

However, he did flash his potential with a sensational performance against the Patriots, the future Super Bowl champions, recording a 121-yard six-catch game to ease the pressure on Nelson and Cobb. He was then the star of the show against the Dallas Cowboys in the Divisional Round, notching 117 yards and a touchdown in a narrow triumph. Even though he was impressive, it took another two seasons for Adams to truly become the go-to target for Rodgers.

Watson and Doubs might not ever develop into the player that Adams has become, but his journey highlights the need for patience from the front office and indeed Rodgers himself.

Future?

The elephant in the room is whether Rodgers is willing to wait for the team to develop. The 39-year-old only signed a new contract in March 2022, but he would not be the first quarterback to be traded. The Packers may feel that it’s in their best interests to move on to get ahead in their rebuild. Rodgers has not been operating at the peak of his powers this season and his frustration has been evident. It might be best for both parties if the veteran could secure a trade to a team that is in a stronger position with their receiving corps.

This would give a new quarterback time to work with the receivers to grow and develop together. That could be Jordan Love, who connected with Watson for a touchdown in a defeat to the Eagles in relief of Rodgers. There would no doubt be growing pains, but it could be the start of a new era with a transition just as seamless as the last. The final weeks of the 2022 campaign could be very revealing when it comes to the near and long-term future of the franchise.

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roofingspecialist · 2 years

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Asphalt shingles generate approximately seven to ten million tons of tear-off waste every year. This material can be recycled into approved asphalt mixes and used as road paving. Asphalt shingle recycling reduces landfill space and reduces the need for virgin materials, aggregate, and petroleum-based liquid asphalt. It can also be reused as a hot-mix asphalt mixture, which preserves landfill space and protects the environment.

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#Roofing #Roof #Roof Tile

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lovelysugawara · 3 years

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LOVE ME AGAIN; special episode

(Missing him Badly)

Kuroo x OC

You wake up after you dozed off this afternoon, you are tired and it’s a good thing your daughter is so busy playing with her toys with her nanny. You look outside and it's already dark. You felt a bit cold. Then you remember you forgot to put the comforter and even forgot to set the aircon to low. You were so lazy to get up but you feel hungry and at the same time don't want to shower. And your daughter probably wants to eat together with you.

You should have showered at this time. Because at 6 pm your husband will arrive. But not today you think. He's been busy.

Kuroo Tetsuro, the president of the company who recently hit millions of sales in the world market. He is your husband who is currently MIA for three days now. He's not actually missing but he's not been home for days. He's been busy, trying to close a deal with Argentina and Brazil. You're okay with it on the first day but you're worried as days passed. He tends to forget to eat when he's into his work.

You looked at the clock on your bedside table, and it's already 7:15 pm. You got your phone tucked on your pillow and started to speed dial your husband's number.

"Hello, mam." a familiar voice of a woman once again answered your call.

"Is he still busy, Rei?" you asked.

"I'm so sorry mam, but the president is still at the online conference with the Brazil representatives. Do you want to leave a message so that I can deliver it to him later?" the kind secretary feels sorry and offers it to comfort you.

You sighed a bit heavy.

"Thank you, but just let him know I called again." This is your 5th call for the whole day, and you haven't got a chance to talk to him.

"Understood mam." The kind secretary says.

"Did he need something? Like a change of clothes, he's been there for 3 days now. Did he always eat on time?" you added, a bit worried about your husband who always so focused on his job.

"Don't worry mam, he always orders something for the team, he also eats on time. We even heard him muttering something like "I miss my wife's cooking" and he's in a bad mood when his work keeps filling up. We can really feel how he wanted to go home." She said as you both laugh at the man's silent complaints. You felt happy, despite your bad cooking, he still missed it.

That made your heart feel happy.

"I guess he's still good. Just make sure he eats on time and just tell me if he needs something." You felt a bit relieved from what you heard from the secretary.

"Will do mam. I'll report it to you if he becomes stubborn and won't eat on time." the secretary makes sure about it.

You can't help but giggle a little, he got a good secretary. "Thank you so much, Rei. You too, don't skip dinner. Goodbye."

"Thank you mam, goodbye." and you end the call.

When suddenly Megumi runs towards you.

“Mama, let’s eat! Let’s eat!”

You laughs and you kiss her on her cheeks.

“Let’s go eat dinner then, baby.”

You stand up and walk hand in hand with your cute daughter.

***

To make the time pass after dinner, you started to fold some laundry and clean stuff. It's night time and only soft instrumental music surrounds your house.

Megumi is also busy “messing” with the clean clothes at the moment.

"Mam, where do we put these plants you bought?" your maid asked you.

"Just put it in the garden, for now, I'll fix it tomorrow." You said it while you folded some of your clothes and put it down on the bed.

Even if you got 5 housemaids, you at least want to personally clean and wash your husband's clothes and stuff. Tetsu loves the fabric conditioner you used to wash clothes. He even stops using his perfume and it pains you because you love his musk smell. Very manly you may say. It adds to his sexiness. Thinking about that, you started to ponder how you miss your husband.

***

"Hey kitten, did you miss me?" he whispered to your ear.

"T-tetsu, don't come to me like that! You'll give me a heart attack." You said it as he hugs you from the back.

"Then how should I ‘cum’ to you?" he sexily whispered to your ear.

You automatically felt hot flowing to your body. He's making you turn on.

You felt your blush, remembering last week's happening.

***

Sex huh? It's been weeks since you guys did the thing. You can't hide it but you miss him. You miss him and his arms caging your small body, his hands cupping your face as he will deeply kiss you and make you his woman. Oh, you can't wait to see him again. You shake your head and put his jacket on your face, smelling him. Even though it's a new freshly washed cloth, it's still him. You really miss him.

***

8pm, and you haven't had anything to do. You eat dinner a little and after that, you go to your bed and open your laptop in hopes to see how your friends have been doing lately on Facebook.

You saw some familiar faces who are online.

Some are from the Karasuno volleyball team you befriended way back in high school. Some Nekoma High classmates and schoolmates and from Fukurodani High.

You can't hide your smile remembering some old sweet memories you had in high school.

With those feelings right now, it really makes your heart flutter just by looking at the photo frames that are inside your room.

You look around and on the other side of the room is the Nekoma VC with you awkwardly standing next to Kuroo, your high school inter-high, your graduation and you and Kuroo's photo when you two are still dating, his proposal, and of course, your wedding picture.

After your marriage, every day has been so happy and perfect. You really love him.

And finally your picture with you and Kuroo’s sweet girl; Megumi.

Megumi is already 5 years old right now, and she grows quite faster that you wish you can stop time so that she will remain your cute, little sweetheart forever. But you know that’s not possible.

“Mama, where is papa?” Megumi darted at the door.

“Hi sweetheart! Yeah unfortunately he’s still busy. Let’s wait for him for a bit okay?” You said as you sat down in front of her.

“But it’s been a week.” she pouted.

You even smiled seeing her this cute. If only Tetsu sees it, you think.

“Can’t he skip it?” Your daughter still insists.

“That won’t do, baby. Papa works harder for you.” You slightly pinch your daughter’s nose.

“But I miss him, mama.” she then pouts again.

You hug your daughter.

“I know. Me too sweetheart. But I’m sure he will come home soon. Because he missed you too.”

“Really?” She’s so cute asking you.

“Of course, because papa loves you.” and you kissed her on his forehead and she kisses you too.

***

The time is 8 pm when suddenly, your phone rings. Seeing the name on the screen, 'Hubby', you answered it so fast that you almost threw away what you were holding.

"Hello wife." a deep voice echoed on your ears. It's like that voice can make you calm and you even felt how sweet his voice is. You have to hold on to something so you can support your body, who yearns for him.

"Hey husband, I miss you. When will you come home?" you're smiling while saying husband. It's like you two are just newlyweds.

"I miss you too, wife. Few more and I'm done. I'll let them do the rest since I've done the crucial one. Did you have dinner? Want me to buy you something?" His sweet voice never fails to bring you to your happy place.

"Just come home straight, baby. Plus your daughter is demanding you to skip your work." You can’t help but laugh a little on your daughter’s demand.

You heard a little chuckled on the other line. As if you see him shift his body to the other side. “Is she? Haha, well I guess my little lady is the more demanding one than her mother.”

You laugh at his comment.

“I really wanna see you.” you actually made your voice a bit sexier.

You heard a deep sigh on the other line, and it was so manly.

"Me too, I really miss you." He emphasized the word you. And you know what he means.

"I'll buy you something, I know you will like it." You still have your smiling face and you know he's preparing to leave.

"Just message me if you change your mind and want something else, okay? I'll hang up. Be there soon, my kitten." And it's like a password, you really know he plans something when he calls you kitten.

"Okay then, I'll wait for you." You started to feel hot inside.

You drop the call. And after that, you started to run to the bathroom because you remember to haven't taken a shower. You didn't expect him to come home tonight anyway.

All you knew is, you are happy and contented with your so called perfect world with your family. Your love for your husband and child will be forever.

END

***

A/N: Hello again! I hope you guys like it, and yeah, I guess i can’t have the courage to post the R-18 version of this episode. Ahahahaha. Yeah, i did try the R-18.

And I guess I’ll post it on my AO3 account. Thank you for reading, and have a great day! ^^

Taglist:

@dekuspet @mkkhaikyuu @captain-eagle-art @rozesarered @kurooloves @elianetsantana @saamsstuff @seijohsangel @i-vonsnyeeoj

#Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo #kuroo haikyuu #kuroo fanfiction #kuroo x oc #kuroo x original character #kuroo angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction

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izaswritings · 4 years

Text

Title: hello to my old heart

Fandom: Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure | Tangled the Series | Varian and the Seven Kingdoms AU

Synopsis: “Why do you trust me so much?”

Or: the beginning of the end for the betrayer. In which Hugo asks a long-overdue question, and gets the answer he never wanted to hear.

AO3 Link is Here!

It is midnight after the trial, after retrieving yet another totem, after everything, and Hugo thinks he might be sick.

Too close, he thinks. Too close. Everything that’s happened, everything he’s been doing… and Donella was there. She saw him, she met his eyes—pretended she hadn’t known him, kept his cover, and yet the unease is still there, itching beneath his skin, restless in his hands. Donella. There. The group had clashed with her. She’d warned them about the Library. Varian had said—

I won’t let you stop me!

—and she’d smiled. Smiled. Like she knew something Varian didn’t.

Nothing happened, Hugo reminds himself. It’s dark now—gone straight through evening right on to night—and their small group has settled down by the city limits, half-way in the trees. Yong has the campfire already lit and burning under Nuru’s supervision; Nuru has the maps spread out on her knees, plotting the best route towards the next kingdom. It’s domestic and normal and natural—and it makes Hugo want to scream, almost. When did he get used to this? It makes him feel jittery and thin and small, because for the first time in a long time—in months! Goddamn!—he’s been reminded, forcibly and irrevocably, of just how little he belongs here.

Nuru had noticed, earlier. Of course Nuru had noticed—she’s the most focused of the four of them, the most eagle-eyed, as one should be when making maps out of stars. Did you know her? she’d asked him then, after Donella had vanished, her voice low as they’d run and left the kingdom behind them. That woman? And when Hugo’s throat had sealed up, sudden and sharp and awful, Nuru had looked him full in the face and said, Oh. Never mind.

So stupid, Hugo thinks, leaning against a tree to hide the weakness in his knees, watching Nuru fuss over the maps. So, so stupid of her. Where has all her suspicion gone? She was always the most critical of him—he knows that, he remembers that, how can he not—even though she was never there for the beginning. And now— now.

Oh. Never mind.

His fingers curl in his sleeve. He chances a glance back, through the trees. Varian is off to the side, away from the fire, deeper in the shadows, his own private set up for a new experiment of his. He’s been there for a while, now, ever since they settled down to camp. Had said, laughingly, that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to mess with this compound around the fire, start dinner without me—and Hugo can only just barely see the shape of him through the shadows of the trees. That dark head of hair is bowed low over the makeshift workbench; he can’t see Varian’s face, but Hugo can imagine the focus of it, the intent. Trust. If Hugo is really going to start berating this group about faith, shouldn’t he start with the worst offender?

He’s only here at all, Hugo knows, with a sudden twist to his gut, because months ago Varian decided to have faith in him. For some reason. For…

Hugo doesn’t even know why. He’s never asked. It’s… never mattered before.

But Donella’s smile plays out in his head, and Nuru’s voice says, soft and careful—Never mind— and Hugo is walking over to Varian before he even knows, truly, what he’s doing.

It’s quiet here, away from the main camp. There is something strangely secret about it all, about the distance and the darkness and the way Nuru and Yong’s voices have faded to whispers behind him. The lamplight of Varian’s staff casts a quiet green glow across everything; it should be sinister, in a way, and yet it just feels warm. In the light Varian himself is focused entirely on the project before him—he likely hasn’t even noticed Hugo is there, Hugo thinks faintly, and for some reason, despite everything, this almost makes him laugh.

He leans against a nearby tree, arms crossed, and says, “Pretty sure that element explodes under heat, you know. I do hope you know that. Why are you trying to set it on fire?” He grins. “Oh! Oh, don’t tell me, did you mistake it for lithium? That’s adorable. Beginner’s mistake. So cute.”

Varian’s shoulders tick up, and his hand spasms, the vial almost dropped. “Gah!” His eyes flash sideways, narrow beneath his goggles. “Stop doing that! Why do you always sneak up on—never mind, doesn’t matter, shut up, I know what I’m doing.”

Hugo hums, as skeptical as he can, if only to make Varian scowl. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Ha, ha,” Varian says, sarcastic, but the old bite is worn now, almost fond, though he sounds a little annoyed regardless. “You don’t even know what I’m making, shove off.”

“…True.” Hugo leans against the tree, sliding down until he’s sitting, one leg drawn up. He rests his elbow on his knee and watches Varian work. Whatever he’s making, it’s lovely—all silver and bronze and glowing solution like a liquid gold. For all his doubts on its application, Hugo can at least appreciate the aesthetics of it. It’s probably important. Probably for the machine, the gateway to the Library. Probably…

Probably something Donella would want him to steal, eventually.

The tightness returns, winding vicious in his gut. Hugo looks away, and lets the conversation drop, unsure of how to continue it, if he even wants to. Varian goes back to work without comment, obvious dismissal, and Hugo stays sitting there, awkward, feeling out-of-place and unsure of why.

But Varian hasn’t asked him to leave, yet—not that Hugo would even if he had, but whatever—so he stays, lingering on the fringes, watching Varian work. For all of Hugo’s teasing, Varian really is clever. The focus in those blue eyes, the intent line of his mouth—this is Varian thinking, Varian with the world spinning out in blueprints behind his eyes, and Hugo has always admired that feeling, always loved it, always appreciated the fact Varian knew and understood it the same way he did.

He leans his head back against the tree, and sighs.

“So,” Hugo says, finally, absent and casual and not-that-I-care-but, eyes deliberately turned away, “what’s your deal with me, anyway?”

Varian hums, not listening. Then the words actually compute, because he snorts suddenly, and pushes his goggles away from his face. “What?”

He’s smiling. Something about that sits wrong with Hugo; it flutters in his chest like a wound. Hugo tries not to scowl. Casual, damn it. “What do you mean, what?” He rolls his eyes. “This weird… I don’t even know. Faith, or whatever. I mean, seriously.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, even from the beginning…” All of Yong’s protests, Nuru’s suspicions—and Varian, who listened and nodded and then waved them away. We’ll see, he’d said, to their fears. And to Hugo: I’m trying to trust you. Don’t prove me wrong, okay?

Hugo hadn’t cared, then, about the why. He hadn’t… it had been an in, an easy entrance, and so he’d never thought to question it. So what if Varian was naive, too trusting for his own good—all the better for Hugo, wasn’t it? And so Hugo had never asked. He’d barely even wondered.

“Why,” Hugo says, months too late but wondering all the same, “do you trust me so much?”

“Hmm.” Varian has raised a vial to his face, peering into the contents. He waves a dismissive hand, absent-minded. He’s not even listening, Hugo realizes, and it’s like a hot knife to his gut. “Why not?”

“I—” And oh, fucking hell, that had almost come out strangled. Hugo snaps his mouth shut, feeling slapped and not entirely sure why. For the love of… this is what he gets for being open, Hugo supposes. This is what he gets for asking too late. Gods. Screw this, anyway.

He climbs to his feet, face flushed, hands curled. “Whatever.”

He’s making back for the campfire when Varian’s voice stops him cold. “Wait.” Despite himself, Hugo looks back. Varian has lowered the vial. He’s looking at Hugo now—actually, truly looking, with a sudden intent that makes Hugo straighten on instinct. In the pale green glow of the staff, Varian’s eyes are sharp as glass.

Varian searches his face, and whatever he finds there makes his expression twist. “Oh.”

Hugo bristles. “What?”

Varian is quiet. His lips press. The sudden focus of his gaze is gone—now he seems drained, almost tired. He pushes his hand back through his hair, and his gaze wanders to the ground, and then, absently, he says, “When I was fourteen, I almost killed my dad.”

Hugo opens his mouth. Hugo closes his mouth.

“I mean, I—didn’t. Obviously. But I… I mean, he should be dead, actually, laws of reason dictate, and I’m pretty now it was only magic that… but I didn’t know that at the time, so really my belief was more denial than sense, in hindsight? And I’m still not sure how to feel about that... anyway.” Varian presses his lips together, the ramble cutting short. His hand is tight on his sleeve—so tight his hands must be white-knuckled under the gloves, and all the color seems to have drained from his face. He looks—older, in this light, with this expression. He looks exhausted.

“I was angry,” Varian says, simply, when Hugo doesn’t respond. “Um. Very… very angry. And I hurt… a lot of people. Some of them I knew. Most I didn’t. And some…” His hands curl. “Never mind. It’s not important. I— told you I’ve been in prison before. Right? I mean, I’m pretty sure I mentioned it, like, once— anyway. Um. Three counts of attempted murder, high treason, kidnapping, attempted regicide, drugging a whole castle with truth serum without their consent, I could go on, but. You probably get the idea.”

Yeah, Hugo does get the idea. The idea is straight-up freaking unbelievable. What? He… he can’t even fathom that. He’s seen Varian angry, he knows Varian can be dangerous, but…

“I don’t understand,” he says, before he can stop himself, and Varian curls in on himself with a laugh that sounds very hollow.

“Yeah, I—I get that. I don’t know myself, really. Why I reacted that way. I’ve thought about it over and over, and I don’t… maybe it was one thing? Or maybe it was everything. My dad was gone. I was alone, I guess. And—and in the end, it just felt… like a betrayal. Like my friends, like my town, like everyone had turned their backs on me, on my dad. And I just… I couldn’t stand that.” He shakes his head, voice going small, murmuring. “Betrayal. Dark word, isn’t it? Never done well with being… well.” Varian laughs. It sounds forced. “Um. This is all speculation, anyway.”

Hugo says nothing. The ground feels very shaky, suddenly; he feels fever-hot and sick. “Oh,” he says. He realizes suddenly his hands are shaking, and tucks them in his pockets. The ground has fallen out beneath his feet; the pieces have clicked into place. He understands. He does. It’s the answer to a question he’d never been able to ask, and even though it's exactly what he expected, it still guts him whole. “…Oh.”

And he thinks: When this is over, you’ll never forgive me.

Varian laughs again. “Yeah,” he says, muted agreement. He draws his legs up close, criss-cross, and rests gloved hands on his ankles. “But… I guess, to answer your question... Even after all that, despite everything— someone still believed in me. Someone was willing to give me a chance. She—even though she had the most reason out of anyone to hate me… she still offered me her hand.”

Varian tilts his head. He meets Hugo’s eyes. He smiles. “That’s why,” he says. “I trusted you because someone once trusted me. And I was right, wasn’t I?” He shrugs. “I trust you now because you’ve earned it.”

Hugo’s mouth is dry. His throat aches. He wants, bizarrely, to scream. “…Right.” How stupid. So, so fucking stupid of him. He’d gotten his second chance months ago, without ever realizing, and he’d thrown it back in Varian’s face before he’d even really known him. So fucking stupid. His head spins. “Right.”

Varian nods. His eyes drift away again. “Sorry,” he says, absent-minded. “For dismissing the question before. I thought you were joking, at first.”

Hugo shakes his head, thrown. “I… it doesn’t matter, it—” He exhales, sharp. “Why… why did you tell me this?”

“It seemed important to you.” Varian looks at the ground, gaze distant, like those words aren’t yet another gut-punch. Important to you. Like easing Hugo’s fears are worth spilling secrets for, worth—whatever this is. Goddamn. Goddamn. And Varian smiles then, a halfway-smile, a wry crook of his mouth that creases at his eyes, and something in Hugo’s chest misses a beat. “And faith always matters.”

“And what if Nuru was right?” Hugo doesn’t know why he says it, and wants suddenly to slap himself. The fuck? But still: once again, he can’t stop himself from asking, from digging in the knife. “When she said I couldn’t be trusted. What if you’re wrong?”

“Nuru doesn’t say that anymore. What’s with you today?” Varian rolls his eyes, briefly, then turns and fixes Hugo with a smile, bright and blinding. “Besides. Am I wrong?”

And the worst part is—the absolute worst part—is that he says it dryly, says it sure, says it—like Varian knows, implicitly, that the answer is no.

Yes, Hugo thinks. “No,” he forces out, and smiles, and hates it.

“There you go.” Varian shrugs and turns back to his experiment, conversation over. Hugo stares at the back of his head. He feels sick. He feels dizzy. He feels like all the world has dropped at his feet, everything he’d never even known he wanted placed right in his hands—and the loss is sudden and sickening, because Hugo has already given this all away, handed it off long before he’d ever known what this treasure was worth.

Still. “Thanks,” Hugo says, through his teeth, and just barely manages to keep it from shaking.

And it’s terrible, all of it—the way Varian ducks his head, the way his shoulders curl, the way the other hides his smile against his arm like Hugo can’t see the gleam of his teeth in the dark, the gentle joy.

“Of course.”

Awful.

Hugo walks back to the fire. Yong is laughing at a joke. Nuru, once so suspicious, smiles up at him—then sees his face, and the smile falters. She frowns, suddenly, her brow furrowing. She says, “Hey, Hugo, are you okay?”

Never mind, she’d said earlier, all of Hugo’s secrets there before her to unravel. I want to trust you, Varian had said, months and months ago, offering his hand to a boy who’d already made the choice to betray them. Faith always matters.

Donella, smiling.

“Fine,” Hugo says, with a smile he doesn’t feel, but the truth beats behind his skull like a heartbeat, and behind his back his hands are shaking. He’s played himself into a corner—caring about these people, about Varian especially. Hugo, the greatest fucking fool of them all, wanting to live up to their expectations only now, when its already too damn late.

“Just fine,” Hugo says, and settles by the fire, Yong’s chatter and Nuru’s worried eyes and Varian’s distant humming—and closes his eyes to it all, holding his breath, as though if he stays still and quiet and careful he can stretch this moment out, keep this moment here, and make it so he doesn’t have to lose them at all.

#tangled the series #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian #hugo the human #varigo #varian/hugo #vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms au #tts #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta #tts fic #iza fanfic

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talpup · 3 years

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Sorry about the late update. It was a super busy weekend, and my three big chronic illness bad's are still making me pay the price. Anyway, here you all go. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 96

It was near midnight. All the Captain's were tired, irritable, and on edge. They were meeting because Yami and Teris had never checked-in this evening when Jax had explicitly ordered his Vice Captain's to do so before lights out.

The Black Bulls Captain focused his glare on his fist which rested on the table as questions were asked, hypothesis given, and ideas about what to do were put forth. He blamed himself for Yami and Teris’ disappearance, certain that the Agents of Chaos had taken them.

Having reported to Greywright before this meeting was called, Jax had encouraged the Commander to question the supposed traitor Flic about Yami and Teris’ disappearance. But, Greywright had told him it would do no good. During his interrogation of Flic yesterday afternoon, Greywright had learned that the man knew nothing of the details concerning Alowishus’ plans. Jax would've liked some time alone with Flic anyway. Not to question the man; but simply to beat one of the Agents of Chaos, even if that person was no longer aligned with them.

“I question keeping up the search. Especially this late at night. We went out this morning looking for two Vice Captains and instead of finding them, we lost two more.” Jamie said.

“You sound scared.” Win taunted.

“I’m concerned for the safety of my squad. For all our squads.” Jamie said.

“We’re Magic Knights. We don’t abandon anyone, least of all our own.” Kess said, fiercely.

“I’m not saying we give up.” Jamie told, thinking Pyter would’ve understood if he were still Captain of the Silver Eagles.

“You’ve always been a selfish ass. I doubt you’d want to continue even if it was your own Vice Captain missing.” Mereoleona fumed.

“We don’t even know who took them or why. Blindly searching has done nothing but thinned our resources and wear our Magic Knights to exhaustion, and it’s only been a day.” Danise said.

Whilf nodded in agreement. “There has to a better way to go about this.”

“Better then searching for four Magic Knights Vice Captain’s?” Mereoleona stormed in challenge of the Purple Orcas Captain.

“No one’s saying that. But fumbling around hoping to stumble upon something isn’t working.” Breigha said.

Mereoleona could hardly argue with her friend. During her own futile search this afternoon she had wanted to torch the four kingdoms until whoever took her brother returned him, begging for mercy. She’d fry the fools and then pummel Fuegoleon for letting himself be taken.

“Do we even have an idea if they were taken because they’re all Magic Knights, or three of them royal?” Win asked.

“I’m guessing none of the families have received any word or demands?” Danise tendered. The Coral Peacocks Captain looked from Mereoleona to Julius. She glanced at Kess figuring as Nozel’s Captain she would've been in contact with Nathyn Silva or at least a representative from the royal house.

Julius rapped his knuckles on the tabletop with a silent curse. Just like last year, and two months ago during the Spade Kingdom mess, he had forgotten to send message to Fyntch about Teris being taken. When he had finally gotten around to writing Fyntch last year he hadn’t mentioned that Teris had been taken; simply saying he was sure Fyntch had seen the beam that lit up the sky the morning of the Summer Solstice and assuring him that he and Teris were okay. As for the happening with the Spade Kingdoms Magic Scientist Rayla, he hadn’t bothered sending Fyntch message and told Teris as much so she wouldn’t mention it to their brother.

Having met with Lord Leonidas himself and spoken with House Silva’s representative, Jorah said. “Neither the Silva’s or Vermillion’s have reported receiving demands or word of admission and intent.”

Jamie scoffed, thinking that the Silva’s and Vermillion’s were too proud to admit to it if they had. The two royal houses likely had their own people looking into things and would handle the matter privately if they came across anything.

Whilf looked at the Wizard Kings Advisor. “Has Magic Investigations unearthed anything of use?”

Ellara shook her head sadly at the Purple Orcas Captain. “My people have been out all day checking in with their sources and questioning people searching for some kind of lead. We haven’t given up. But as yet, they have discovered nothing that would tell us who took the Vice Captain's or why.” She looked at Julius, Mereoleona, Jax, and Kess. “I’m sorry.”

Julius and Jax stared at the Wizard Kings Advisor, both thinking Ellara was far from sorry but would be.

96.2

Yami noticed how Calen stuck close by them as he and Teris were made to walk through the portal. Given that Teris had once broken through Calen’s negating magic the first time she had light traveled, it was justifiable that they were concerned.

“Leon! Nozel!” Teris rushed forward only to be grabbed by a cloaked figure.

Yami punched the Agent of Chaos not seeing or caring if the person was a man or woman. He pulled Teris out of their grasp, holding her to him.

“Peace, Livia.” Calen told the woman as Alowishus stepped through the gateway.

Livia stood down and tenderly touched her face.

Hands bound above his head, hanging from a tree branch, Fuegoleon’s eyes blinked slowly open.

Tied and swaying beside the Crimson Lion, Nozel croaked, barely able to lift his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice.” Yami said, looking them over.

Nozel took in a slow, shallow, shuddering breath; grimacing at the pain the small movement brought.

Teris tried once more to step to them, but Yami held her firm least someone attempt to stop her again.

Teris trembled in Yami’s arms, a fearful rage building. Nozel and Fuegoleon were alive but they were a battered, bloody mess. And that was only the injuries she could see. They had been in the Agents of Chaos’ custody for little more than twenty-four hours. Who knew what those monsters had done to them.

One eye swollen shut. The other, vision tinted red by blood. Nozel told Yami. “First chance you get, you get her out of here.”

Teris shook her head, angry worried tears blurring her sight. Though she had no idea how they were going to manage it, she promised Nozel and Fuegoleon. “No matter what it takes. We’re going to get you out of this.”

“I’m glad you said that; because you hold the way to freedom for your Intended and your cousin. The path to seeing them live through this is a simple one.” Alowishus said, stepping toward her and Yami.

Teris turned to face him. “Let them go and I’ll do it.”

“Teris... No--” Fuegoleon’s lips moved, sound barely coming out. His voice faltered, weakly coughing up blood.

Yami uttered a stream of curses, his grip on Teris tightening. He scowled at Alowishus and the surrounding Agents of Chaos in the low, flickering firelight of Piper’s magic. He would kill every single one of them even if it took his entire life to hunt down every member of Alowishus’ followers.

“That’s not how this goes.” Alowishus told Teris. “Your friends go free only after you and Yami do as I say. Play difficult and we will continue harming them until you do or they die; whichever comes first. But I warn you. They proved difficult themselves, refusing to answer the simplest questions. It’s left them in bad shape. I doubt they’d be able to survive much more.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes slowly lifted, too weak to rise his heavy head. He wanted to tell Teris not to listen. He would rather die than have his cousin agree to whatever these people wanted. But no matter hard he tried, his brain couldn’t make his chapped bleeding lips form the words.

Yami didn’t need a better look at Fuegoleon and Nozel to know Alowishus was telling the truth. It was clear they had been tortured and were in really rough shape. Nozel’s head lolled. Though it was difficult to tell if the man was unconscious or not.

“What do you want?” Yami asked.

“To get to the treasure vault of a labyrinth.” Alowishus said.

“What? You and your people so lacking that you need us for such a simple task.” Yami mocked.

“This isn’t any labyrinth, Yami. The contents of the vault are meant for you and Teris. Destined for the two of you to find and receive.” Alowishus told.

“Labyrinth 297,353.” Teris breathed.

Alowishus smiled. “I see you’ve heard of it.”

Yami looked at Teris in question.

Teris stared back, both surprised and not that Yami didn’t remember. “He wants us to collect the Future of Chaos.”

“Not just the two of you.” Alowishus said, keen ears hearing Teris’ whisper. “I will be going down with you to also receive the page.”

Yami turned to the man. “The History of Chaos has been nothing but a curse. Like hell I’m going to the labyrinth that has the Future of Chaos. I’d rather see those two die.”

“As you wish.” Alowishus’ eyes slid to the Mage that stood beside Nozel and gave a slight nod.

Nozel’s body tensed and began to squirm. Hanging from his arms, he began to swing. His muscles spasmed at the pain. Teeth pressed together trying to hold back the cry that bubbled in his throat.

Yami couldn’t see any outward wounds being made. But when blood began to come from Nozel’s ears, nose, eyes, and mouth, he barked. “Stop!”

Alowishus tilted his head at Yami, not yet giving the signal for the Mage to cease. “Agree.”

Yami glared.

Nozel began to scream.

Voice caught in fear and horror, Teris’ trembled, knuckles white as she clutched onto Yami’s upper arms.

“We’ll do it. We’ll go.” Yami broke.

Alowishus smiled. “Excellent.”

The signal was given and the Mage stopped.

Alowishus held a beckoning hand out to Teris. “Come here.”

Yami’s arm tightened around Teris’ waist. But he hadn’t needed to worry, she didn’t even try to move.

“It appears you require another lesson in how this goes.” Alowishus turned to the Mage and told. “Don’t be so gentle this time.”

Whatever the man was doing, he did it to both Nozel and Fuegoleon. Both their bodies seized. The Crimson Lion and Silver Eagle crying out. Teris tired to take a step toward Alowishus but Yami held her in place. She squirmed in his arms, pushing at his chest; but Yami refused to release her.

Teris looked up Yami at single tear rolling from its bank and down her cheek. “Please.”

Yami shook his head even as his hold slowly released. Teris stepped away him. He made to follow but was barred by someones arm. They didn’t dare touch him, but it was enough to stay his steps.

Teris was more than halfway to him when Alowishus gave his man a nod.

Teris’ steps ceased. Her head started to turn to look over her shoulder at Fuegoleon and Nozel when suddenly Alowishus was right in front of her. His hand clasped her jaw, fingers digging into her cheeks as he turned her to face him.

The next thing Teris knew, Alowishus was kissing her. No. It wasn’t really a kiss. Though that didn’t make it any less unnerving or make her stop trying to push away. It was more like the way a mother bird feeds her young. Only in this case, Alowishus was forcing a thick, vaporous substance down her throat.

Yami broke the arm barring his way and rushed forward. He was tackled and held down by three men. A cloak of mana flickered around Yami like a sputtering candle flame, present one moment and gone the next.

Calen ground his teeth. His magic fighting to negate Yami’s.

Mana skin blinking in and out of existence, Yami threw one of the men holding him into another that was coming to assist. He got to his feet and tossed a second against a tree trunk ten meters away,

“Stand back.” Slade told the third that was still trying to hold Yami back from their Master. The Rope Mage created a glowing rope. It wrapped around Yami, binding him tight.

Yami fell to the ground. He pulled and struggled against the magical binds, yelling curses and threats.

Alowishus released Teris and staggered back. Misandre was there to help steady her Master.

Teris fell to her knees. Sputtering, she coughed up dense black smoke. Her eyes watered, at the burning cold that seeped through her body into her very soul.

“What the hell did you do to her! I’ll kill you!” Yami roared, the magical ropes breaking nearly as fast as Slade could create them.

“I merely replenished her mana stores. You should thank me. In her depleted state she wouldn’t have survived receiving the Future of Chaos, let alone whatever dangers we might cross down there.” Alowishus looked down at Teris who was on all fours choking up thick black puffs. “Your system is adjusting to foreign mana. It’s not a perfect exchange, but you’ll be fine.”

Yami snarled. His fighting didn’t let up, even as Teris’ coughing eased.

“Let him go to her.” Alowishus ordered.

As soon as Slade’s magic released, Yami was on his feet. He rushed to Teris, sliding to his knees to stop beside her. His arm wrapped around her jerking shoulders as she continued to sputter.

“You alright?” Yami asked, pushing her hair back from her face.

Teris nodded, still wheezing. She wiped the stale taste of Alowishus off her mouth and spit, wisps of black mana escaping her mouth and nose like smoke. She pushed up to her knees, a shaking hand gripping Yami’s arm for balance. “Leon? Nozel?”

Yami glanced over at the still bound men. Neither Nozel or Fuegoleon moved. Their breathing so shallow Yami couldn’t see the rise and fall of their chests. Through his sense of their Ki, he was able to pick up on their faint breaths and weakened heartbeats.

“Still breathing.” It was the only thing Yami could say.

Alowishus turned away. “Let’s go. The new moon rises. We must be in the vault by its peak.”

“What’s a moonless night have to do with it?” Teris rasped, Yami helping her to her feet.

Alowishus turned back her. Rather than answer, he told. “Yami’s power might be on the rise. But he has still faced a small down trend as the Summer Solstice has neared. Your power, though lessening, will continue to grow slightly until the morning of the solstice.”

Yami looked at Teris seeing her frown at the unanswered question. He could see her mind working, trying to figure out the answer on her own.

“Before we head out. Turn around and look at your beloved friends.” Alowishus ordered.

Despite not wanting to do anything the man told her to, Teris couldn’t resist. She turned.

Yami stood in her way, wide shoulders and towering frame blocking her view. He gave her a slight shake of his head.

Teris stared up at him.

“Move and let her see them, Yami. You both should know the stakes any further disobedience will have.” Alowishus told.

“She doesn’t need to see them.” Yami said, eyes lifting to the man that called himself Death.

Alowishus stared back. For a moment it looked as if he would insist. With a sigh, he allowed. “Very well. You’ve seen the state of them, Yami. You know what testing me would mean. I doubt you want to be the cause of their deaths.”

Teris balked at that. She tried to step to the side, but Yami moved with her.

“So protective.” Alowishus smirked. Looking at Teris, he told. “It’s probably for the best. A sight like that will stay with you long after they’ve recovered, or died.”

“Leave her alone.” Yami growled.

Alowishus looked down at Teris. “Just so long as you’re aware. Timeis of the essence for the both of us. Your cousin won’t last more than two hours at most. Your Intended not lasting much longer after that. And that’s only if you behave and don’t kill them yourselves by having me set Nexis back to work on them.”

Yami glared at Alowishus. “We won’t try anything. Let’s just get on with it.”

“For the Prince’s sake I hope that’s true. I will be carrying a charm. If I activate it, Nexis continues his work until I deactivate it. If I’m injured, it activates immediately. If I am rendered unconscious, it activates immediately. As unlikely as such a happening is, if I am killed...” Alowishus smiled at the change in Yami’s eyes at the prospect.

“Let me guess. The charm activates.” Yami said.

“No. The charm crumbles to dust. As does the connecting ones left in the hands of my followers. If that happens, not only will the Silva and Vermillion heirs be instantly killed. But the Agents watching Captain's Julius and Jax, as well a the rest of your friends from afar, will spring into action killing them before they even realize there’s a threat.” Alowishus said.

“But you’ll be dead.” Yami said, as if the rest didn’t matter.

Alowishus gave a tight smile. “Only for a time. You cannot kill Death”

“Pretty sure if I removed your head you’ll die.” Yami said.

“I’ve heard that before. Sadly, only one such commenter was still around to see how wrong they were.” Alowishus sighed tiredly and raised a guiding arm. “Shall we?”

Taking Teris’ hand, Yami stepped after Alowishus. They walked for some time through the dark forest with only the dim glow of the accompanying Agents of Chaos’ grimoires to light the way.

While the mana Alowishus gave Teris might've bolstered her magics reserves. It didn’t do much to help against physical exhaustion. Seeing her start to lag, Yami looked ahead to Alowishus. “Didn’t you say time was of the essence? Why are we tripping through a moonless forest?”

“Misandre will see us inside the labyrinth, but first we must find it.” Alowishus said. Pausing his steps to stare at something in his hand.

“What do you got there?” Yami asked.

“Directions. Of a sort.” Alowishus looked over his shoulder at Yami. “Come have a look if you’d like.”

Yami slowly released Teris’ hand. He glared at the surrounding Agents of Chaos in warning. Grateful for the breather, Teris didn’t move to follow him.

Alowishus watched Yami as he stepped beside him and looked at what he held in his open palm.

Yami scowled. “Are those bones?”

“Finger bones to be precise. They’re from the maker of the labyrinth and are pointing us to the labyrinths entrance.” Alowishus smirked at Yami. “You see? I do my part to make things as easy and painless as I can for the two you. When we reach the area, Misandre will portal the three of us in. Once down there, we’ll make our way to the vault and the three of us will enter and receive the Future of Chaos.”

Yami raised a brow. “The three of us?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I might not have the brains Teris does. But I remember the paper sniffers at Investigations saying Yurist’s prophecy said the ones who found the History of Chaos would find its future. Seeing as you weren’t there when we got the first page of Chaos. I don’t see how you expect to get your hands on the second.”

Alowishus’ eyes darkened. “I’ve forgotten more about Yurist and his prophecy’s than the sum knowledge of the four kingdoms libraries and scholars combined. When it comes to such things, you must be careful, Yami. Yes, the prophecy says the two that find the History of Chaos will also find the Future of Chaos. But the key word there is find. Not receive.”

Yami looked at the man thinking that if the keyword was ‘find’ then Alowishus was still somehow wrong and in for a disappointment; because he and Teris weren’t finding anything, they were being led. Giving one last look at the bones that moved like a compass, Yami stepped back to Teris.

They walked a bit more until Alowishus stopped once again.

“Misandre. Here. Three hundred and seven meters down.” Alowishus glanced at Yami and Teris seeing they too had picked up on the numbers. He and his people still hadn’t learned the full meaning of Yami being a third seventh son; and as much as he wanted to question Yami further on it, now wasn’t the time.

Calen stepped to his Master, his concern evident. He remembered last years long lingering injury Alowishus had suffered from his battle with Julius Nova, and Yami and Teris’ combined attack.

“They know the stakes, and won’t try anything.” Alowishus soothed Calen. He looked at Yami and Teris. “Will you.”

Yami’s left hand rested on his katana’s hilt. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust us. Just like we’re having to trust you about not killing the royals, and letting us all go.”

Calen glared at Yami. “If you harm the Master. I’ll do more than kill your friends. I’ll find this Land of the Rising Sun and end every single member of the Sukehiro line.”

“Good luck with that.” Yami said, sure there had to be a family that went by Sukehiro in his homeland; unfortunately for Calen’s plans, it wasn’t Yami’s family.

Misandre opened up a portal. Alowishus gave the Spatial Mage a nod as he passed through. That’s when Yami saw the woman’s hands. Hands he’d recognize anywhere given the amount of times they had hit him and tried to crush his neck.

Yami pulled his katana from its sheath. “Those don’t belong to you!”

“Yami, don’t!” Teris grabbed his arm, not seeing how his eyes had flicked black for a fraction of a second.

Snarling at the woman wearing Bronn’s hands, Yami sheathed his katana. “I’ll soon see those off you and where they belong.”

96.2.2

“Teris. Give us some light.” Alowishus said from somewhere in the dark space.

Teris’ hand twitched tempted to light up the direction Spade’s voice sounded from and fry him. Her grip on Yami’s arm tightened, grateful they had stepped through the portal together.

Slowly, she lit up the area. The three blinked, their eyes adjusting.

Looking about the space, Alowishus told. “To use your terminology, the labyrinth isn’t active. With it not open and visible to the surface we will have to deal with the dark. But it also means that most of the beasts and traps will be in hibernation. Still, be on guard. The creatures that reside in places like this are more powerful during the new moon.”

“Which leads me to ask again. Why a moonless night?” Teris questioned.

Alowishus tilted his head. “The vault is this way.”

Senses alert to danger even if he didn’t appear to be, Yami commented almost conversationally. “I suppose we should be thankful that Bronn was such a good Spatial Mage. Without his hands, that woman probably would’ve deposited us between bedrock.”

“Noticed that did you?” Alowishus smiled, leading the way.

“Gotta admit, I half expected her to try and smack me upside the head.” Yami said.

“Parts taken carry a residual portion of a persons magic, not a remnant of the persons character.” Alowishus said.

“Why take Bronn’s hands at all? Were Erskin’s a little too chewed up by Saber Wolves? Or were the hands of your dead follower too painful to see?” Teris asked.

“When you have lived as long as I; such feelings of friendship, love, even hate all but fade away. I’m not so old that I’m incapable of affecting such emotions for the sake of others. But, just between the three of us. I feel little to nothing. Well, until the two of you showed up.” Alowishus stopped and turned to to face them. “You two have done much more than give me the means to reach my aims. You have made me feel again. First excitement. Then awe. I have long since forgotten what hope felt like. But I believe I may have begun to feel a bit of that as well.”

Teris’ brows furrowed. “Just how old are you?”

Alowishus wagged a finger at her. “A proper bred young royal like you should know it’s impolite to ask.”

“Just how old are you?” Yami questioned.

Alowishus smirked and turned away. “Come. Time runs short.”

Though they didn’t come upon any traps. They did happen upon two beasts. Just as Alowishus had said, the creatures were more difficult to subdue than expected. Finally they reached a large cavernous chamber with a set of towering double doors that looked near identical to the ones that had housed the History of Chaos.

“Our time together is almost over.” Alowishus said, as if saddened by the fact.

“You’ll keep your word and let us go.” Yami prompted.

“Of course. I’m a man of my word. After this, you and Teris are free to go. Until I next require you that is.”

“Nozel and Fuegoleon?” Teris questioned.

“Your beloved cousin and your Intended will be set free as well.” Alowishus said.

“Last time we faced a vault containing something having to do with Yurist and Chaos the doors snapped shut behind us and didn’t reopen till someone from the outside did so.” Yami said.

“That won’t be an issue.” Alowishus said.

“Why? Got a tracking charm on you that you’ll leave where you’re standing so the Spatial Mage with Bronn’s hands can portal here and open the doors when we’re done?” Yami asked.

“Clever. But no.” Alowishus told.

“Then what’s your plan for getting us out of there?” Teris questioned.

“Me.” Alowishus said.

“You?” Teris stared.

Alowishus’ expression darkened. “Even if you don’t trust me. Trust that I don’t want to be in that vault room any longer than necessary.”

Alowishus turned and looked at the vault doors. Excited as he was to once again see and this time receive the Future of Chaos, he wondered if his grandfather’s work would have him. And if added to his grimoire, what, if anything, the page of Chaos would show him.

96.3

Nozel’s eyes slowly opened. Even with the pain, thirst, hunger, and fatigue muddling his senses; he could feel a swell of mana not too far from where they were.

Guilt washed over him. Not just for Teris agreeing to whatever Alowishus wanted for his and Fuegoleon’s sake; but for the terrible state the Crimson Lion was in.

During their questioning, the Agents of Chaos had taken to torturing the other in effort to get them to comply. The tactic had worked a lot quicker on Fuegoleon, who had caved, reluctantly answering their questions. Nozel’s will to protect Teris and ability to tune things out had seen him hold out longer. Their tormentors cutting into Fuegoleon’s flesh and magically tearing at his insides as Alowishus calmly waited for Nozel to answer.

Much as he wanted to, Nozel couldn’t fully lay the blame of this on Yami. Not when he and Fuegoleon were being used to make Teris comply with Alowishus Spade’s wishes. Not when even he had broke for Fuegoleon’s sake and answered the mans questions. He tried to recall what those questions had been but currently couldn’t.

His still good eye, the other swollen shut, turned in the direction of the swelling mana. The direction Alowishus had taken Teris and Yami in. He hoped Teris was alright, and silently swore he’d kill Yami if the man let anything happen to her.

Still unconscious, Fuegoleon’s shallow breath rattled in his chest. The Crimson Lion was fading. Yami and Teris needed to hurry.

96.4

Yami’s head snapped up, sensing a rise in Alowishus’ mana.

Teris turned to the man as well, tone accusatory. “The peak of the new moon has a similar effect as the solstice does for us.”

“Not the peak of the new moon. The moment right before. When it is at its darkest. The height of the moons death, if you will.” Alowishus gestured to the closed vault doors. “After you.”

“Never been in a labyrinth where the vault doors didn’t open. Do we just bust in?” Yami asked.

Teris shook her head. “There’s magic holding the doors closed. If we try to force it, the reaction could be similar to our magic when it clashes.”

Yami looked up. “Under three hundred some odd meters of earth and stone. I don’t like our chances of surviving that.”

Teris turned to Alowishus. “The labyrinth’s not active. There is no way we can open the vault doors.”

“You disappoint me. Unless you’re hoping I’m that stupid.”

Teris’ mouth opened, but Alowishus continued on.

“I assure you. I didn’t go through all this trouble without being certain there was a way to open a sleeping labyrinths vault room.”

“Then do it.” Teris said.

“Now that does make me certain you know better. Did you forget the rules regarding your friends up top? Think you could see me dead by tricking me and light travel to them before my followers kill them?” Alowishus’ eyes darkened. “Open it up.”

“The mana you gave me— I doubt it’ll recognize it as mine.” Teris said.

“Then we will just have to hope your system was able to assimilate enough of it for the labyrinth to recognize it is you.” Alowishus said.

“What’s that?” Yami asked, looking between them.

Frowning at Alowishus, Teris explained. “If what Yurist wrote is true. Then our mana should be able to open the doors.”

“So why can’t he do that?” Yami asked.

Teris stepped before the doors. “Shall we.”

Yami scowled. “I asked you a question.”

“Leon and Nozel don’t have much time.” Teris told.

Yami stared a moment. Something was off. He didn’t like how Teris didn’t answer him. How she wouldn’t even look at him, staring straight at the door. But she was right. Braid Face and Lion Cub were in bad shape. They didn’t have much time.

Heaving a sigh, Yami tilted his head side to side, stretching his neck. “How much mana are we giving to open up this thing?”

Teris swallowed, nervously. “As much as it needs in order to recognize us as us.”

Yami did the same as Teris and placed his palm on the door. He slowly loosened his hold on his mana. Even a couple paces from Teris and in direct contact with the object he was letting his mana seep into, it was a struggle to keep it from veering to connect with hers.

A pressure beneath his hand built as if something other than the door was stretching out, making contact with him. It apparently approved, as it stopped taking in his mana forcing Yami to pull back on the eased harness of it least his lose control and his mana connect with Teris’.

Yami turned to Teris surprised she wasn’t done as she had started before him. He stepped to her. A prickle of foreboding tickling the back of his neck. “Teris?”

Watching Teris with interest, Alowishus warned. “I wouldn’t touch her.”

Yami spun to the man, temper and worry rising. “What’s happening?”

“It’s trying to decide if it’s really her.” Alowishus said.

“What do you mean, if it’s her? Of course it’s her.”

“Did you forget? I gave her a portion of my mana.” Alowishus said.

Yami’s muscles tensed, concern tipping into fear. His jaw clenched, understanding what Teris and Alowishus had been talking about. Understanding why she had avoided answering and had refused to look at him.

“I’m confidant her system has been able to assimilate enough of my mana and make it her own by now.” Alowishus eased.

“Bastard! I’ll kill you!” Yami stepped toward Alowishus, katana cloaked in darkness.

“Do you really wish to be the death of Teris’ beloved friends when you are so close to seeing them and yourselves go free? Or was this your secret plan all along? To lash out at me and get her Intended out of the way. Permanently.”

Katana raised to send a slash of darkness, Yami paused.

Alowishus lifted a shoulder, smirking. “I can’t say I blame you. You face enough trails with me and my plans as it is. It would undoubtedly be a relief not to have to deal with the mess of having to fight in order to make Teris yours. You know I could just activate the charm. We could finish up here and return to the top. It’ll simply appear to Teris as if they succumbed to their injuries. It will be our secret. She need never know.”

Yami glared. The cloak of darkness disappeared from his blade. “No.”

“I could send message for only Nozel to be put down.” Alowishus tempted. “Fuegoleon, if he still lives, isn’t the problem after all.”

“I said, no.” Yami growled. He sheathed his katana.

Teris fell to her knees.

Yami turned back and knelt beside her. “I got you. You alright?”

“Yeah.” Teris breathed.

Yami brushed her hair back noting how pale and feverish she was. “When we get outta here you and I are gonna talk about the chance you took without telling me.”

“Had to—for Nozel and Leon.” Teris panted, trembling hand wiping her sweat drenched brow.

Looking down at them, Alowishus felt a pang of disappointment that Yami hadn’t taken him up on his offer. Maybe it was merely because Death had helped create Darkness; but there was something about Yami that made him want to win the young man over.

Alowishus stepped in front of the opening vault doors. “Up. We still got our prize to receive.”

Ignoring the man, Yami asked Teris. “Can you stand?”

Still out of breath, Teris merely nodded.

Yami hooked her arm around his neck and wrapped his arm around her waist. Easily bearing most of her weight, he lifted her to her feet with him as he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

They stepped into the vault with Alowishus. Yami and Teris looked at each other, puzzled when they weren’t congratulated by the same Crazy Happy Killer Voice that had greeted them when they received the History of Chaos.

If the labyrinths were created by the same person. Even if that person wasn’t Yurist himself. Then surely things would be similar. The doors and interior of the vault were almost identical.

At least this vault didn’t have bodies in various stages of decay, Teris morbidly thought.

Alowishus seemed to realize something was wrong as well. Mana flaring, the Master of the Agents of Chaos released a roar of fury. The chamber they were in shook around them. Dirt and stone raining down.

Yami held Teris tight, creating a shielding cocoon of blackness. “Get us out of here!”

Teris would’ve done so but for one thing. Her concern for Nozel and Fuegoleon’s lives. Alowishus still held that charm.

“Now!” Yami gritted, dark cocoon straining against the weight of the crumbling labyrinth.

Teris light traveled them to where they had last seen Fuegoleon and Nozel.

“Get away from them!” Alowishus ordered his people when they made to move against Yami and Teris.

Teris spun around. Yami’s shield dropped,

Teris’ hand lifted on instinct. She sent out a burst of incinerating light only for it to dim and slow as soon as if left her. Slowed as it was, it was still faster than most magical attacks.

Caught by surprised, Alowishus didn’t get a chance to move. The attack struck him in the chest. There was a moment of stillness as everyone stared.

Alowishus and Teris blinked at one another. They both knew he had been undefended and her direct hit should have instantly killed him.

Rage still consuming him, Alowishus counted this as one thing going his way this night. “It would seem your system hasn’t assimilated enough of my mana for it to harm me. Better luck next time.” He saw Yami reach for his katana and ordered. “Misandre. Quickly now.”

Alowishus didn’t wait around long enough to see if Misandre was able to portal his followers out in time. Breaking apart, he disintegrated into the earth.

Katana cloaking in darkness even as he unsheathed it from its scabbard, Yami sent out a several dark slashes. He cursed, knowing before they cut down the trees beyond that he was too slow. Alowishus and the Agents of Chaos were gone.

Yami turned to Fuegoleon and Nozel. With a swipe of his blade, he cut the Silver Eagle and Crimson Lion free. Hoping Alowishus' foreign mana wouldn’t adversely effect her light traveling Fuegoleon and Nozel, Teris took the four of them to Healers Hall.

96.5

Alowishus’ anger had barely calmed. Storming into his private office, he slammed the door behind him and made for the shelf behind his desk, picking up his father's skull.

“Your lied!” Alowishus roared, gripping the skull in both hands.

“I told you, your efforts would be futile.” A voice resonated in his head.

Alowishus shook the skull, not hearing the dead mans words. “The Future of Chaos was not there!”

“The Future of Chaos is not for you.” The voice of the skull sounded in his mind.

“I had a plan to work around that. It was faultless.” Alowishus snapped.

“Apparently not.” The voice said.

“You placed grandfathers work back inside labyrinth 297,353 after you retrieved it, putting special protections in place to keep me out.” Alowishus said.

“You mean after I took back what you stole?” The voice of Erin Spade questioned.

Alowishus snarled, grip tightening. “I had it in my grasp and you took it. Stole it.”

“You stole it first.”

Alowishus slammedthe skull down and turned away. He had barely been able to delve into the unfathomable knowledge that was the Future of Chaos before his father had ripped it from his grasp. He had been sure his father had placed the page back in labyrinth 297,353 for Yami and Teris to eventually find; certainthat his father had merely set barriers to block his re-entrance, since he had been unable to enter again until tonight.

“You placed grandfathers work back inside labyrinth 297,353 after you retrieved it.” Alowishus said, again.

“Did I?” His father's voice sounded in his mind.

“You moved the Future of Chaos to another location!”

“You moved it first when you stole it.”

“You changed the future Yurist saw. You ruined Yami and Teris’ destiny to have the Future of Chaos.” Alowishus accused.

“More thanlikely, I kept theprophecy concerning the Future of Chaosin tact. While my father’s prophetic words could often be unclear. That one sentencewas quite clear. Findand receive. It could hardly be said those twofound the labyrinth, what with you setting upon them and forcing them to bend to yourwill and go down there. I have full confidence that Yami and Teris will find and receive my father’s final work, if they haven’t already.”

“What do you mean haven’t already?” Alowishus demanded.

“Destiny canonly be bent to your will so far before it snapsback to its own designs, Fin.”

Alowishus sneered at beingcalledby his first life's name. “I will have my way, Old Man. Yami and Teris will help me awaken Chaos and see to a finalend. I will get what I have worked sevenexistencesfor.”

“Good luck doing it without the Future of Chaos.” The voice taunted.

“You are useless and more infuriating every time I speak to you. I should ground your bones to dust and forget you ever lived.”

“I wish you would.” The skull of Erin Spade said.

“That would bring you too much joy. Finally finding your rest after all these years. No. You will not rest until I have my way.” Picking up the skull, Alowishus set it back on the shelf. “Till the death of the next moon, Old Man. Know that I won’t enjoy the three nights of your company anymore than you will mine.”

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

“He’s ill.” Jax said.

“How ill?” Marx asked.

“Deathly.” Yami rumbled.

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #julius novachrono #mereoleona vermillion #black clover #light in the darkness

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echodrops · 4 years

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Home and a Half Pidge Headcanons

An ask I got yesterday reminded me that I never posted the HaaH headcanons for Pidge like I promised, so here they are! (I’ll answer the actual ask as soon as I can with some new material instead of headcanons I already had written... oops...)

Anyway, without further ado, some headcanons for Pidge related to my fic Home and a Half!

Pidge:

- Grew up in the picture of the nuclear family: mom, dad, two kids, dog, nice upper-middle-class house in a quiet neighborhood, dinner on the table at 7:30pm on the dot… Of all the paladins, Pidge had the most stable and “average” childhood… at least on paper.

- In reality, there is not a single person in the Holt family who isn’t eccentric as fuck. Grandma Holt? May or may not still be an active intelligence agent for MI6. The dog? Woofs in Morse code. Auntie Ariana? Has actually seen the Jersey Devil. Colleen Holt? Has killed a man. If you ask Pidge, she’ll say that her upbringing was perfectly normal and she’ll genuinely mean it, but this is a consequence Pidge having no idea what “normal” even means.

Rest under the read more to save your dash:

- Not actually a girly-girl when she was young. Although they’re eight years apart and thus unlikely to be mistaken for one another, very early on Pidge got frustrated by how similar she and Matt look, and she definitely did not want to wear his tacky hand-me-down clothes, so she pitched a royal fit and insisted on wearing dresses and hairbands so that her family would have to buy Pidge all her own things. (They probably would have bought them anyway if she’d just asked calmly, but Pidge was three at the time, and they were all very impressed by her grasp of cause and effect.)

- Of course, when Matt disappeared on the ill-fated Kerberos trip, those tacky hand-me-downs ended up being some of the most important items in Pidge’s life. Even outside of infiltrating Garrison, wearing Matt’s old clothes was one of the few comforts Pidge would allow herself—when she cut her hair and put on his baggy shirts, for a second, looking in a mirror, she could almost convince herself he was still there—

- Pidge has no intention of changing the way she dresses or styles her appearance until she’s reunited with Matt and her father. After that? Well, they may not be the coolest looking things ever, but Matt does have a point that baggy t-shirts are very comfy…

- And okay, because I’m sure everyone expected this headcanon first: Pidge and gender is a surprisingly uncomplicated subject. Side note before I go further: I’m sure everyone has their own headcanons for this and none of what I say here should be taken as rejecting or invalidating any other fan’s views on Pidge. The only thing invalid in the Voltron fandom is canon. Anyway, I personally like to imagine that Pidge is very ambivalent on gender. There is so much else going on—the war, Sam and Matt being missing, freaking giant robot space cats—that sitting down and sorting out the question of “Do I identify as male, female, nonbinary, or anything else?” is just really, really low on Pidge’s to do list. Pidge thinks of Pidge as “Pidge” and even that’s rare because Pidge doesn’t sit around thinking about herself or what other people think of her.

- In fact, what strangers think is, in general, extremely low on Pidge’s radar. Although she used to be more self-conscious due to bullying from both classmates and her teachers, the combination of her parents’ consistent support and Matt’s… extreme tactics (“I’m telling you Pigeon, nanobots in their lunches will solve all your problems.” “That’s illegal, Matt.” “Nothing is illegal until you get caught.”) Pidge (mostly) overcame the phase of being affected by other people’s opinions. Who cares what strangers think? Absolutely none of them will ever be even close to as smart and talented as her family anyway. (My IQ is three times yours, your argument about my gender is literally invalid.)

- By the way, I’m using “her” simply because that’s what I’m used to seeing in the fandom and to keep the fic and headcanons consistent, but in the functional world of HaaH, Pidge answers to any pronouns and doesn’t have a preference for any set in particular over others. In fact, Pidge is used to going by different sets of pronouns coming from different people, and might be “he” to one person, “she” to another, and “they” to yet someone else. Pidge is just… Pidge.

- Again, with the war and Voltron and missing family and literally everything else going on--and the fact Pidge is far more practical than all of the rest of her fellow Team Voltron members combined--she isn’t wasting time and energy doing something as troublesome as falling in love with an alien. (“Keith, can’t your melodrama wait until after we win the war?” “My drama waits for no man.” “Then please explain how you and Lance manage to engage in synchronized dumb-fuckery at least three times a week.”) Eventually, after life has settled down and Pidge has had some time to think about it, she’ll realize that the reason she somehow managed to avoid any romantic entanglements in space isn’t because she’s just much more mature than her teammates (although this might be true)—it’s that she’s just not really interested in romantic engagements with anybody, period.

- Pidge’s one true love is discovery; she feels far more passionate about knowledge and learning new things, encountering new puzzles, and grasping new concepts than she does about anything else. In between all her creations and codes and experiments and observations, it just doesn’t feel like there’s room—or that there needs to be room—for a romantic relationship with a real person.

- Pidge will make room for friends though, if and when they insist on worming their ways into her life. She tends to be a fairly private person who has never really had a large friend group (back on Earth, before Garrison, there wasn’t anyone but Matt and her parents who really understood her, and she didn’t have much in common to discuss with children her own age), but once someone earns Pidge’s trust, she does open up and form close bonds and she will give her all to help and be there for her few, but close, friends.

- Meeting Hunk at Garrison was a huge revelation. Up to that point in Pidge’s life she had never really met any young person outside her own family with a soaring genius-level IQ that was a match for her own. Although she and Hunk bicker frequently because their approaches to science are extremely different, she’s still over-the-moon to have someone who doesn’t stare at her like she’s talking gibberish whenever she goes off on one of her tangents.

- If you ask Pidge, she will violently swear up and down that Lance never and in. no. way. reminds her of Matt, fills in for Matt in the lame-older-brother role, or helps her miss her brother just a little bit less. That did not happen, never had a chance of happening, what are you even talking about—

- But if you ask about Shiro, she will be flat-out honest and admit she totally thinks of him as Space Dad. It’s not her fault. Shiro literally hero worships Sam Holt (still to this day!!) and may or may not have taken on more of his mentor’s mannerisms in order to fill the leadership role for Team Voltron. Sometimes Shiro will say or do something and Pidge will be absolutely dumb-struck because he got that from my dad is an actual thing she has to deal with.

- “Pidge” is actually a derivative of “Pigeon.” Everyone in the Holt family has a bird-based code name. Mr. Holt is Eagle Two.

- People often get the impression that Pidge is scatterbrained because she can talk about ten different things at once and pounces on leaps in her own logic that other people just can’t follow, but her thoughts and speech are very organized. It’s not her fault you couldn’t understand her system of organization if you tried.

- Put Pidge on the spot on a subject she doesn’t know, though, and watch the awkward jump right out. (“Oh, you meant the pop band Galileo, not the person. You know, that’s really an easy mistake to make. You can hardly blame me when you stop to consider all the similarities between modern chord progression and the trajectory of supermassive objects like—”)

- And if it’s not awkward, it’s defensive. Pidge may be hyper-intelligent, but she’s still very, very young, and it’s hard not to get snappish when challenged by people whose opinions she really does care about. She has a far quicker temper than Matt (who is a “revenge is a dish best served cold” champion), a trait she shares with their mother. Colleen, in turn, blames it on her having been born in New Jersey. Pidge has flipped so many tables on the Castleship that Coran and Lance eventually went around and bolted them all down.

- Do not even so much as hint that Sam and Matt Holt might be dead instead of just missing in space. Keith is still scared after his last attempt at reasoning with Pidge about her family’s fate.

- Has a bad hoarding habit. Back on Earth she had her parents there to insist she clean her room at least once a week, but in space, things are getting a bit crazy. The Castleship closets and cabinets can hyper-condense their contents and she’s STILL running out of room for all the neat doodads and parts and scientific wonders she finds on their adventures across the galaxy. Is definitely in the “Look, there’s still a mostly clear path to the door; it’s fineee” category. It’s not like she finds it hard to let things go once she’s gotten attached to them or anything. Nope. Definitely not.

- Pidge’s mess is absolutely of the “everything has a proper place” type though. Move anything with her name on it and you will feel her wrath.

- As the only one of the Earth paladins to have technology on her when they were unexpectedly swept off to war, everyone on the ship relies on Pidge’s laptop for their monthly dose of Earth nostalgia. Good thing for them Pidge and Matt’s pirating skills put Pirate Bay to shame, and she’s got basically every Earth movie from 1980 to the present. She even has every episode of the timeless classic F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (Keith hates that show with a burning passion that even he cannot explain.)

- Speaking of technology Pidge had on Earth—every single person in the Holt family is (and has been for decades) aware of the existence of aliens. Pidge’s family tree has been involved in communications, radio wave technology, and interpreting space observations since those fields were first invented. When Earth first identified patterns of waves that obviously corresponded to alien communications going on outside Earth’s galaxy, Pidge’s great- great- grandfather was there. When world governments covered up the discovery, he was the loudest voice of dissent. Since then, the Holt family has been deeply involved in military and space operations across several countries, operating from within an oppressive system they fundamentally disagree with, using their positions of authority to monitor the Milky Way and beyond, keeping tabs on what the aliens might be saying—and what messages Earth might be inadvertently sending back.

- Of course this is top secret work—secret even from the Garrison and government where the Holts were employed. Other kids learn how to play piano and soccer; Pidge and Matt learned how to hack virtually impenetrable military databases and hide their data behind uncrackable ciphers instead.

- But the Kerberos Mission was supposed to be safe. They’d all monitored the chatter so closely—there hadn’t been anything hostile anywhere even near Earth’s galaxy, no sign at all of any technologically advanced race like the Galra in years and nothing about one little Earth mission that would disturb any other intergalactic travelers anyway… Why would they...

- Pidge is surprisingly athletic for a self-professed nerd. With youthful energy to burn and a family to save, Pidge took to Allura and Coran’s intense Altean training like a duck to water, and while she’s not quite Shiro or Keith when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, she can definitely holds up better than Hunk or Lance.

- Favorite color is actually yellow, and if Green wasn’t totally The Coolest™ lion, she’d be sort of salty about Hunk getting the Yellow Lion instead.

- Absolutely capable of cursing up a blue storm, and hasn’t been friends with Hunk quite long enough yet to remember to censor herself around him all the time like Lance does with his “Holy crow!”s. She’s trying, dammit!

- Big on pets. Gets attached to pet-shaped creatures (whether living or robotic) very easily. 110% kept the space caterpillars, who live happily free-roaming the piles of space junk in her bedroom. The space caterpillars and the space mice do not get along, however, as the space mice do not take well to having their status as the favored fuzzy team mascot squad threatened. In their micro-Cold War, which is occurring without any of the ship’s humanoid occupants being aware, the space caterpillars are currently winning.

- The caterpillars’ names are Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton.

- Remember that one post about Lance drawing angry brows on the space caterpillar and siccing it on Keith? I very much accept that as canon. Pidge was Not Happy™ when she found out what Lance had done and she is NOT letting anyone else near her caterpillars again any time soon. Is very, very careful not to let Niresh see the space caterpillars so that they don’t end up stolen right from under her nose.

- Speaking of the kids, Pidge is super awkward with them and skedaddles at the first sign of tears. Next to Allura, there is probably not any member of the team worse suited to babysitting duty. That said, as someone who has lost members of her family in the war, Pidge is probably the member of the team who most directly understands Dulsara’s anger and the children’s loss. That doesn’t mean she’s really ready to let herself sympathize with the Galra though, at least not until she finds her own family first.

- Pulls all the most bullshit moves in Monsters and Mana. Whenever the team reminiscences on the truly legendary moments from their campaigns, somehow Pidge is the star in all of them.

And that’s all I’ve got for now!

#pidge #Voltron #Pidge headcanons #voltron headcanon #HaaHVLD #Home and a Half #voltron fanfic

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we-are-only-halfway-home93 · 4 years

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Come and Lay the Roses 25- Shadow of the Evening Sun- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Ragnar makes a move on Aelle.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violence, torture, sex, mentions of sexual assault/rape.

Word Count: 3942

Ch. 24

AN: I’m so sorry for the wait. I had some family stuff come up and I’m getting ready to move and my school still doesn’t have a solid plan in place for the fall so I’ve had other things on my mind but I am here now and we have chapter 25 of Come and Lay the Roses. I wasn’t too terribly happy with how the end came out but it is what it is. Enjoy!

“Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.”

~Walter Scott

“They’ve been attacking our docks regularly since Sigurd’s death. First they took Ritland then they took Nyland. Floki and Rollo are at Kattegat right now making sure it’s not overrun. Father,” Björn leaned forward setting his hands flat on Ragnar’s desk. “We need to make a move.”

Ivar tsked. “As much as I love disagreeing with Björn he’s right. We can’t just sit back and let the Saxon kings make fools of us.” Björn shot Ivar a scathing look but kept his mouth shut.

“Sigurd has just died. We haven’t even buried him yet and you want to talk about retribution? Priorities, brothers. I think you should reevaluate them.” Ubbe chimed from his position by the fire. Ivar snorted and shook his head.

“The longer we wait to retaliate the bolder they will become. First, our brother, then the docks. What’s next? A home invasion massacre? No thanks. We need to strike while the iron is hot.” Ivar insisted. Ubbe rolled his eyes and sat back, his melancholy mood thickening the air.

Hvitserk sat forward, silent until now. “We should kill one of their brothers. It’s only fair. That’s what they’ve taken from us.” Ivar shook his head and stood.

“We did that already, Hvitserk. Remember? Aethelwulf was what started this whole mess anyway.” He turned his back to the room and stared out the large picture window overlooking the back garden. He could see Aaline and Thora walking a shaky Sibylle around the grounds. They made it a point to get her outside at least once a day.

“No, if anything this started when you married Aaline.” Björn accused. Ivar whirled around to face his oldest brother whose face had turned a wicked shade of puce.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean? You’re saying this is her fault?” Ivar exclaimed. He pointed a stiff finger at his brother and rounded the couch. Hvitserk stood up and pushed his hands against Ivar’s chest, stopping him. Ubbe stepped in front of Björn, a barrier if needed.

“No. You were out of control. Killing anyone who annoyed you or even got in your way. You married Aaline because it was the only way father could control you. Aelle and Ecbert formed an alliance that night and they’ve been working against us ever since. It’s your fault all this has started.” Ivar snorted and tried to move around Hvitserk but Ubbe was there, creating too much resistance.

“They were attacking us long before my marriage. Who’s to say they wouldn’t have done it anyway?” Ivar yelled.

A loud crash silenced the room. All four men turned to look at their father.

In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Ragnar had swept the contents of his desk onto the floor. Several glass ornaments shattered and littered the hardwood. Papers floated serenely to the ground. Pens rolled softly across the floor and came to rest under the chairs in front of his desk.

Ragnar looked up. His fingers were steepled in front of him. He had been sitting in quiet contemplation, taking in all the arguments his sons presented. Once they began to turn on each other, he had had enough. He took a deep breath and pressed his hands to his desk, standing.

His sons backed up, distancing themselves from each other, creating space in the already cramped room.

“As compelling as all of your arguments are, only one thing matters. Retribution. Aelle needs to pay for what he has done to us.” He came out from behind his desk and crossed the room, taking Ivar’s place in front of the window.

“He needs to feel my pain. This is the second child I have lost. No parent should have to outlive their children. It is worse than death. Aelle needs to feel what he has done to me.” He turned and faced his sons. “To all of us.”

“Are we going to kill his son?” Hvitserk asked. Ragnar smiled and shook his head.

“No. I would not deprive a father of his children.” He looked at each of his sons, studying them. “But I will deprive a child of his father.” The brother’s exchanged apprehensive glances but remained silent. Ragnar had turned back to the window and settled his hands in his pockets.

“Do you remember the story of Jarl Borg?” Ragnar asked. He kept his back to his sons. Björn was the one to step forward.

“He was an ally. He betrayed you. Took Kattegat, tried to kill Aslaug and Hvitserk and Ubbe and Sigurd. Killed many of your men. Tried to kill you.” Ragnar nodded and Björn took this as encouragement to continue.

“You overtook him. Took back your land and your people. Captured him.” Björn spoke softly in the tense room. He could feel his brothers’ eyes on his back. He was the only one old enough to remember the events of that night. His brothers had all been too young. Ivar hadn’t even been born.

“What did I do to him, my son?” Ragnar drawled, his voice low. Björn glanced at Ubbe whose gaze was laser focused on their father.

It was moments like this where Björn was reminded of his father’s power. These tense, quiet moments where all Ragnar had to do was lower his voice and speak softly and the whole world would stop to listen.

“You blood eagled him.” Björn whispered. Ragnar nodded slowly.

“Yes.” Ragnar breathed. “A fitting punishment, don’t you think?”

“Sir, there is someone here who’d like an audience.” Ecbert looked up from his paper, cursing internally at the stupidity of his companion. Sigurd Lothbrok was dead in a drive-by shooting, his body undergoing an autopsy but Ecbert only needed one guess to figure out who was behind it.

He’d told Aelle to be patient. The fool just couldn’t do it.

“Tell them I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” He waved carelessly. He looked up when he didn’t hear the door close. His attendant was still standing in the doorway, his body tense with nerves. Ecbert sat back. “Well, what do they want?”

His attendant cleared his throat. “She says she has information about Ragnar Lothbrok that might interest you.” Ecbert arched a perfectly shaped brow before waving his hand forward.

“Send her in then.”

The woman who entered was tall and thin with flowing blonde hair that reached her waist. She carried herself with a dignity seen in the upper class but dressed in a way that implied she was more middle or lower class. Her hands were clasped in a loose knot in front of her and her face betrayed little. It was her eyes that stopped Ecbert short. Her eyes gave away her sanity or lack thereof.

“What can I do for you, Miss…” He tapered off, waiting for her to offer her name.

She didn’t.

“I know how you can stop Ragnar Lothbrok.” The confidence in her voice was astounding. Ecbert snorted and shook his head.

“Pray tell, how exactly can I stop Ragnar Lothbrok? He is already the richest man on this side of the country and he has powerful allies in all areas of the government. Tell me, what do you know that I do not that will help me get rid of Ragnar Lothbrok?”

If she heard the sarcasm and skepticism in his voice, she didn’t show it.

“His children are his weakness. He does everything for them and with them in mind. Get rid of the children and he’ll have nothing.” She did show emotion then. Ecbert laughed at her and she looked affronted.

“I am well aware of Ragnar’s attachment to his children. But I will not kill them. Not so soon after the death of their brother. Now please, William will show you out.”

As if called, the door opened and the attendant appeared, his arm outstretched behind him, waiting for the woman to leave. She made no move to do so.

“You don’t have to kill them all in one fell swoop. Just one at a time. As one falls, Ragnar will grow weaker with grief and the rest will be easy.” She insisted, a hint of desperation behind her words.

Ecbert stood, his anger pulsating through the room. “Do you take me for a fool? Hm? I know that Ragnar’s weakness is children. But I have enough respect for the man to let him grieve one son before depriving him of the next. Or are you just trying to get me killed? Killing them all at once would be worlds easier than one at a time. I’m more likely to survive that way.

“Now, you’ve said your piece. Be gone from my sight before I feel you’ve overstayed your welcome.” He looked towards William at the door who moved forward and took the woman by the arm. She jerked against him, causing them to stumble. She took the chance to pull herself from William’s grasp and slam her hands on Ecbert’s desk.

“You’re a coward.” She snarled. Ecbert reared back like he’d been slapped. Never had anyone, let alone a woman dared to speak so to his face.

“Madam, you have overstayed your welcome here. Be grateful that I do not strangle you here and now for your insolence. I have killed stronger men for less. Remove yourself from my sight.” He hissed.

“You’re afraid of the retribution that will rain down if you act now. That makes you a coward.”

“I would be an idiot not to fear Ragnar’s retribution. You must be desperate if you’ve come to me with so little. I’ll not ask again. Leave. Now.”

“Ivar is the problem.” She said with confidence she had no business feeling.

Ecbert sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Ivar has always been the problem. This is not news to me.” His voice was clipped and short.

The woman straightened and crossed her arms over her chest. “I know how to get rid of him.”

Ecbert opened his eyes and stared at the woman with trepidation. She continued. “Once Ivar falls, the rest will soon follow.” Ecbert shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was about to listen to her. He was either stupid or desperate. Maybe it was a little of both.

“What did you have in mind exactly?”

The grin that overtook her face was just this side of insane.

Aaline leaned against the door jamb, watching Ivar dress. It was late in the evening and he was preparing for his raid on Aelle.

He had spent the better part of the last two days holed up in his father’s office discussing what needed to be done to avenge Sigurd. She could see the lines of anger and grief in his face every night when he came to their bed. He struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to kiss her goodnight before he was passed out.

He was gone by the time she woke and she knew that he was busy plotting.

It seemed they had finally devised a plan.

“How long will you be?” She asked, feigning casualty.

Ivar stopped lacing his boots and glanced up at her.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was looking down at her feet.

She was just as exhausted as he was if not more so. She had come to their bed every night physically and emotionally drained. She had taken the lead in Sibylle’s care and had spent the last two days tending to her.

Making sure she ate, making sure she bathed, consoling her and helping Lagertha. Lagertha had taken it upon herself to plan the funeral. Sibylle was in no position to do so. She struggled daily to get out of bed and Torvi and Aaline had to drag her out of bed and to the back garden just to make sure she got some exercise.

She was in no place to plan her husband’s funeral.

Lagertha had planned a day long celebration of life with a massive feast. There would be wine, food, music, and dancing. Of course this would all take place after Sigurd’s funeral pyre. Sigurd’s body would be burned on a pyre that Ivar and his brother’s would build. Offerings and ornaments would be placed on the Pyre so that Sigurd would have things to take with him into Valhalla.

Ivar had the utmost faith in Lagertha, though he felt that the funeral should take place after their vengeance on Aelle.

He sat up and sighed.

“It is hard to say. Our timing depends on Aelle and what he’ll do.” She nodded and looked up, meeting his eyes with watery ones of her own.

He drew his eyebrows together and took a deep breath, letting the air fill his chest, feeling the strain in his lungs, before he exhaled. “Why are you crying?” His voice was soft in the space between them.

She laughed once and pressed her hand against her mouth, afraid it would turn into a sob if she continued. She shook her head, unable to look at him for fear of breaking down. He said her name and she sighed, resigned. “Because I am afraid.” She could not speak louder than a whisper for she knew her voice would break.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid you won’t return.”

Ivar stood up and approached her slowly. He stopped in front of her and, with tender hands, took her face between his palms. “Aaline…” He searched her eyes, looking for what, she didn’t know. He seemed to find it because the next minute his lips were on hers, hard.

She moaned and brought her hands up to his shoulders, clenching her fists in his shirt, pulling it tight. Ivar sucked in a sharp breath and pulled away, locking eyes with her again.

“I will never leave you.” He whispered against her parted lips. She sobbed once, tears streaming down her face, and pressed forward, molding herself to his body.

Ivar crouched low behind the bushes in Aelle’s backyard. His hips protested the position but he ignored them in favor of watching Aelle’s bedroom window. The light was still on. He cursed when Hvitserk came up behind him.

“Nothing yet?” Ivar glared at his brother before shaking his head and turning back to the window.

“What are they doing anyway? It’s after midnight.” Hvitserk looked at his wrist for a watch that he wasn’t wearing. “I bet they're getting freaky. You think Aelle’s wife still lets him stick it in her every night? Can he even find it? I mean, he’s so…”

“I know what you mean.” Ivar cut his brother off. “His wife is a night owl. She reads.” Hvitserk side eyed Ivar before snorting.

“If I was her, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near me. I bet it’s like a shriveled old pickle.” Ivar rolled his eyes as Hvitserk laughed at his brilliance.

“Tell me the plan again.” Ivar demanded. He needed to get Hvitserk back on track.

Hvitserk huffed but relented. “You and I watch the back and wait for the light to go out. When it does, we text Ubbe and Björn who will wait 20 minutes and then they’ll use the French doors on the side patio to enter through the kitchen.”

“Security cameras?” Ivar asked only half listening.

“Disabled. Björn’s got the jammer in the car. It’s good for ten miles.”

“Security system?”

“Ubbe called the company. Said that the area has been experiencing connection problems and that they’re working post haste but some systems may go off unexpectedly. He’s got the decoder in his bag.”

“Guard dogs?”

“Unconscious.”

Ivar looked over at Hvitserk who didn’t look at him. “I stole some of Margrethe’s Xanax and stuffed it in some ground beef. They’ll be out for hours.” Hvitserk elaborated.

Ivar snorted. “If they wake up.”

He waited only a few minutes before he spoke again. “What happens after 20 minutes?”

Hvitserk groaned and hung his head. “Must we go over this again? Björn made me recite it until I didn’t leave anything out.”

Ivar ignored him. “What happens after 20 minutes?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“Björn and Ubbe enter through the French doors and disable the silent alarm. They have 30 seconds before it’s not silent anymore. If it goes off, we take off and hope they make it out. When it doesn’t go off, we wait for Ubbe’s text and we break in through the back door.

“We sneak upstairs, inject Aelle with a horse tranquilizer and haul him out of the house like used furniture.”

He turned to Ivar as if he was expecting some kind of commendation but Ivar just slapped his shoulder and pointed to the bedroom window. Hvitserk turned and saw that the light had gone out.

“Text Ubbe.” Ivar hissed.

Hvitserk rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Ivar kept his eyes on the window for any movement. He could feel Hvitserk shifting beside him. He was building up to something so he left his brother off the hook. “Was there something else, Hvitty?”

Hvitserk opened his mouth to answer but no words came out. Ivar turned to look at him and smirked. “Cat got your tongue?” Hvitserk narrowed his eyes and landed a solid punch to Ivar’s shoulder. Ivar chuckled and looked back at the bedroom window.

Hvitserk finally found his courage and asked, “So, you and Aaline, huh?”

Ivar slowly turned to face his brother who had no shame. “Well, she is my wife, Hvitserk. It comes with the territory.”

“No… well, yes, but… what I meant was…”

“I know what you meant. And yes, me and Aaline.”

Hvitserk grinned and he was trying so hard not to show his teeth that his face was tight with tension and his eyes nearly clenched shut.

“I knew it. It was only a matter of time. No one believed me. They all thought you would run her off. Said she was too smart for you but I knew you’d make it work. I knew it the minute I saw her. You can’t resist a challenge.”

Ivar had turned back to his brother and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “They all thought I’d run her off?”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t.” Hvitserk stated like it was obvious.

“What else did they think?” Hvitserk looked over at Ivar and seemed to sense the danger he was in because he suddenly looked down at his nonexistent watch and hummed.

“Oh, look, it’s been 20 minutes.” Ivar watched Hvitserk stand and head towards the backdoor on tiptoes. He growled and followed swiftly behind.

They pressed back against the siding and waited.

Ivar glanced around the backyard, his adrenaline pumping. Hvitserk nudged him and jerked his head inside, indicating Ubbe’s signal. Ivar turned to the door and, with quick hands that won him Ragnar’s praise, he unlocked the door and shoved Hvitserk inside.

His brother cursed but otherwise did not react. Ubbe and Björn were in the kitchen.

“Everything’s set. We do this quick, we do this perfect. We’re in, we’re out. No one gets hurt.” Björn said.

“Except Aelle.” Hvitserk snorted. Ubbe slapped his arm and Hvitserk shrugged.

“Last bedroom on the left end of the hall.” Ivar said, leading the charge. The rest of his brothers followed behind on quiet feet. Ivar kept close to walls to limit the noise on the floorboards. As soon as he reached the landing, he took out his gun and attached his silencer. Björn glared as he passed him down the hall but Ivar ignored him. Hvitserk stopped beside him and took out the tranquilizers. He had three full syringes in his hand. Ivar gave him a look and he just shrugged.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Ivar rolled his eyes and followed Ubbe.

Björn jerked his head towards the door and Ubbe nodded, wrapping his hand around the knob and turning. The door eked open and Ivar was the first inside.

He came around the left side of the bed, the side that Aelle’s wife, Ealhswith, slept. He watched as Ubbe and Björn came in, one standing at the foot of the bed and the other standing on Aelle’s side. Hvitserk was the last in.

He stepped up and knelt beside Aelle, removing the plastic covering from the first syringe. He smirked down at Aelle before plunging the needle into the side of his neck. “Sleep well, Aelle. It will be your last.”

As if his words were a trigger, Aelle’s eyes snapped open and his hand wrapped around Hvitserk’s throat.

Hvitserk spluttered and choked, his own hands coming up around Aelle’s wrist. Björn and Ubbe jumped forward, Ubbe helping Hvitserk tug against Aelle while Björn latched himself to Aelle’s back.

Aelle jerked forward, knocking the contents of his nightstand to the floor, waking his wife. She jerked up but was quickly met with the business end of Ivar’s gun. She didn’t even have time to scream before Ivar spoke.

“Scream and I’ll shoot you.” She snapped her jaw shut and stared at Ivar, tears streaming down her face. Ivar did not look away.

Aelle roared and yanked Hvitserk closer, spittle flying from his mouth. Hvitserk was turning a dangerous shade of purple.

“Hvitserk, the needles.” Björn grunted.

With help from Ubbe, Hvitserk plunged the two remaining syringes into Aelle’s neck. The Saxon flagged just a bit but his hold on Hvitserk didn’t lessen.

“Ivar! Help us!” Ubbe cried.

“Aelle.” Ivar called, his voice calm and soft.

The Saxon king turned his head and saw Ivar with his gun pointed at Ealhswith’s head. “Let him go or I’ll kill your wife.”

Aelle narrowed his eyes and pulled Hvitserk closer to him, his fingers flexing around his neck. Ivar watched the hand tighten around his brother’s throat before he turned cool, empty eyes to the weakened king. “You don’t believe me?”

With no preamble, Ivar fired a single shot between Ealhswith’s eyes.

The other men stopped, frozen as her body collapsed back onto the bed. A pool of blood leaked out onto the bed. A splatter pattern decorate the wall behind the headboard.

Aelle roared and released Hvitserk. He lunged toward the bed but Björn kept his hold tight and, with three horse tranquilizers in his system, Aelle was out in no time.

Hvitserk heaved and gasped in the corner, Ubbe hovering over him. Ivar glanced once to the body of Aelle’s wife before he stowed his gun.

“Ivar, we said…”

“I know what we said.” Ivar looked up at his oldest brother. Björn liked to stick to plans and it frustrated him when Ivar uphending these plans.

“We didn’t agree to kill his wife.” Björn hissed, his teeth clenched and his eyes hard.

“I know what we agreed but plans change. We didn’t plan on him waking up. We didn’t plan on him fighting as hard as he did. Frankly, I think this works in our favor.”

“A dead woman works in our favor?”

“Yes, he saw her die. He knows what we’re here for. He’ll beg for death in no time now that he knows what we’re willing to do.”

Ivar kept his gaze on Björn for a few more seconds before turning to Hvitserk who was standing now but with a ring of thick bruises already forming around his neck. “Alright, Hvitty?”

Hvitserk nodded, coughing, and clasped Ivar’s shoulder.

Ivar looked back at Björn before jerking his head towards Aelle’s body. “Let’s move. It’ll take time to drag him down the stairs and we don’t want anyone to see us leave.”

Tags: @dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @reyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years

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“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” + WesCat (Friendship)

Thank you for sending this in! Please enjoy Kate!

The phone vibrated away for the third time in a row as Cat looked at the screen. Wren’s name showed up again and Cat couldn’t bring herself to hit the hang up button as she laid curled up in bed. The time on the phone read two in the afternoon, she was supposed to be at work today, she called off last night, not telling Wren. It had to be the reason she was calling Cat now, wasn’t like Cat to just not show up with no warning.

She had tried though, the whole week she kept going to work, putting the smile on her face, keeping herself upbeat and busy….and still she would sit in her car exhausted and crying driving home or to Raf’s. She stopped going anywhere else but home and work a few days ago. Her communication limited and dwindled over the week with everyone. Now, here she was not even going to work or making contact with anyone.

Cat groaned and put the comforter over her face, shielding the small rays of light peeking through the curtains. She didn’t want to be mean but she also didn’t want to have to explain everything to Wren. They were just starting to become friends and she didn’t want to screw that up….though she probably was by ignoring Wren’s calls. Catlina sighed under the sheets, I’ll text her after a nap. Tell her I came down with a cold and I’ll be back to normal soon.

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

Wes slammed the door of the cruiser gathering the bag of hamburgers and drinks from the roof of the car, making his way to Wren. She had found a picnic table with a good view of the river, something she normally enjoyed admiring if she didn’t seem frustrated looking at her phone. She hit the redial button as Wes got himself and their lunch settled, her foot tapping as she waited for someone to pick up. Wes could hear the faint voice of a computer woman informing Wren that she should leave a message for whoever she was calling. Wren rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair, letting out a breath, “Hey Cat it’s me Wren….again. Look can you just call me back when you can? I’m worried about you.”

Wes looked at Wren, eyebrow raised, “E’erything okay?” He asked as she pulled out her burger and fries taking a sip of her drink.

She sighed shrugging, “Mostly. I just- Well Cat didn’t come into work today. They said she called out last night.”

Wes shrugged, “Maybe she got sick,” he let out a small laugh, “Raf finally gave her food poisoning.” He took a bite of his food watching as Wren tapped a French fry against the paper surrounding the burger.

“That’s the thing though,” she started, “He came in and asked for her. He told me he hasn’t seen her for a few days now and she cancelled their plans for the week. He was hoping to bring her lunch.”

Wes’ mind replayed all that she had said, the pieces starting to click. Wren had the two statements backwards, Raf was bringing lunch because he hadn’t seen her due to the canceled plan. Cat was wanting time alone and during those times she didn’t always eat or care for herself as she should, Raf was trying to gauge how bad she had gotten. If she was still making it to work things weren’t bad yet, if she missed she was getting to a point where she needed more care. It had been awhile since she got this bad. “He tell ya not to worry?”

“Yeah, but how can I not worry,” Wren drew lines in the ketchup, “She’s my friend, Wes. We just started to get close and now she disappears like this,” she shook her head, “just doesn’t feel normal for her.”

Wes reached out, grabbing Wren’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’ll check on her. Think I know where to start.” He gave her a reassuring smile before going back to finishing their lunch quickly. Wes watched as Wren drove away in her Jeep before pulling out his phone sending a text to his friend:

Going to check on her. Unless you already did.

The response time was quick from Rafael:

Haven’t gotten a chance yet. Still at work. I'm going to when I finish, I’ll meet you at her place when I do.

Wes nodded to himself as he put his phone away starting up the car making his way to the small studio above the Spread Eagle. Her purple sedan was parked next to him behind the building, a good sign. Wes looked at his key ring spotting the silver key with a pink flower sticker at the base, spares Raf made without her knowing after last time. Felt wrong to have it without her knowing but last time they had to break the door down after she stopped communicating for almost a week. It was a bit of a misunderstanding as to what the two men had walked into that day; Cat passed out in the bed, a medication bottle emptied on the counter, another, sleeping pills, beside her empty, the small uniformed cuts along her inner arm is what kicked their worry into overdrive. Both men worked to try and get her to wake up or respond to them in some way. When she wouldn’t they rushed her into the car making their way to the hospital.

The actual story, Cat hadn’t eaten for three days straight and hadn’t slept for two days, she’d taken two sleeping pills to try and help get back to normal. They hadn’t agreed with her as she sleptwalked, her body trying to go about a normal day, flushing the sleeping pills down the toilet in the process. The cuts were shallow and created not for the purpose of wanting to die but for trying to regulate her mood. Rafael and Wes were halfway to the hospital by the time she started to wake up.

Wes hoped it wasn’t so bad this time as he walked up the stairs, it seemed like they caught it early this time around. The studio was small and easy to see the mess of brown hair underneath the blankets, and other than the mess of dishes and take out, everything else seemed to be as it should be. He shut the door quietly as he walked towards the mattress on the floor, she was breathing still, asleep, but breathing. Her phone rang with another call from Wren, hand reaching to try and turn it off, Wes beating her to it. She didn’t wake and Wes didn’t want to wake her. He looked around and decided to pick up some of the empty food boxes and dishes lying about, trying to not make too much noise. When that was done Wes took the time to text Wren and Raf with his findings, his friend getting more details, leaving it up to Cat on how much she wanted to tell his girlfriend. He took a seat on the chair she had, turning the tv on to a low volume, the cooking he’d leave to Raf once he got here.

By the time Catlina had stirred the sun had started to set and her stomach was twisting in hunger. The only other light in the room came from the black and white cowboy movie Wes was watching, she didn’t want him here. “You don’t need to keep watch,” she mumbled, turning to face the other side, “This isn’t a psych hospital.” Her hand felt around for the sleeve of crackers that she left on the other side of the bed last night, “Where are my crackers?”

“They ain’t a meal,” he replied, looking at his phone.

She grumbled, closing up into more of a ball clutching her stomach, “Don’t feel like cooking.”

Wes got up to look in the fridge, “You got leftovers,” he opened them making sure none of them were bad. Cat stayed silent as Wes let out a slow breath, “That bad huh?”

It was bad that she hadn’t even been able to heat up the food in the microwave, more than that though it felt like too much work to eat the meals. Crackers were easy and less hassle, she could keep them near, never had to leave the bed to eat. She felt her eyelids get heavier, the energy leaving her body quickly, “I’m tired Wes. You should go home.”

He shook his head pulling out some pasta they had over the weekend, the contents going onto a plate and then the microwave. She covered her head, the aching in her chest feeling painful, her eyes shutting as she tried to keep the tears from falling. “Take your meds today?” Wes asked as he nuked the food another thirty seconds, trying to figure out if she had based on what was left in the bottle. Math was never his strong suit and it looked like this would be something to leave to Raf when he got here.

He grabbed the plate bringing it over to the bed sitting next to her, offering it to her. She looked up at him through narrowed eyes, the smell of the food calling her to wake up and eat. She gave a small shake of her head, her stomach betraying her.

“Gotta eat. Worked hard on it,” he joked, smirking, putting the plate closer to her face, “Ain’t leaving till you eat.” Catlina sighed, releasing herself a little from the ball she had put herself in. She grabbed the fork with a bite on it chewing slowly once the pasta made contact with her mouth. As soon as she swallowed she felt like it was going to come back up. Wes set the plate on the ground next to him, “Here,” he grabbed her, moving her so her back hit the wall and she was mostly sitting, “Better.” He put the plate in her lap, getting up to grab her some water. Wes looked back at her watching as she slowly brought another bite to her lips, her hand falling limply back to her lap.

Wes scavenged her cupboards for the stash of kool aid powder she had lying about, there was a lot she had stashed trying to keep her air of decent eating habits with Rafael. It was a mystery as to what she would do once they decided to finally just move in together, she’d still try to find places to hide them. He finally found what he was looking for in the top of a cupboard, “Do you jus’ climb everywhere?” He asked, reaching for it, his eyes straying to a plastic container with a panting coyote with a bright red tongue and a red pepper running away in victory. Wes pulled it down also looking it over, habanero pepper peanuts, his favorite. He looked up to Cat who had moved on to the third bite, “Thought you didn’t like spicy peanuts?”

She looked up to him briefly, her eyes not fully focusing on him, “I don’t,” her voice flat, “Got them for you.”

Wes set the peanuts down, “They’re my favorites.”

“I know,” her tone of voice made it sound so matter of fact, Wes’ heart fell a little at the difference in his friend.

“Raf?” He guessed, giving a smirk looking at the comical picture.

She shook her head, “No. You told me that night we got drunk, when we played twenty questions.” Wes mixed the water with two spoonfuls of mix, “It’s four spoonfuls.”

He rolled his eyes adding the two more scoops, “You ‘membered that?”

She gave a small shrug, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Wes stopped stirring the drink taking her in as she continued to look down, “I kept an eye out for them,” she gave a small snort and smallest of smiles, “I almost bought the whole box they had in the store for you.” She looked up to his face, “Only reason I didn’t was ‘cause I became unsure if they were the ones you mentioned.” Wes looked down to the container of peanuts, the corners of his mouth lifting, “Meant to give them sooner but….,” he made his way over to her as he saw her eyes fill with tears, “Sorry I didn’t. I didn’t mean to, I just-.”

His arms wrapped around her tightly, Cat stiffening before returning the hug weakly, “Thank you. I love it.” He pulled back away from her with a giant smile on his face, laughing when his eyes looked at the bottle’s picture.

Cat did a double take, “Wait,” she looked at his face, blinking back the tears, as he tried to go back to containing his emotions, “Wes did I sleep my way into an alternate universe or did you really crack an actual smile?”

“What of it?” he replied, getting up to grab her drink, waving off her comment.

Cat looked down pushing some hair behind her ear, the ache in her chest alleviating a little, “Nothing, just-. It- well you should smile more. It lights up a room.”

Wes didn’t respond, just shook his head as his phone went off, glancing briefly at the screen, “Raf’s here.” Cat looked down at the plate of pasta, it wasn’t very filling for her and felt tasteless.

“You think he’d-,” she stopped listening to something outside. It was muffled but was clearly music and nothing that would be played in the bar below. Cat tried to place the melody of the song, feeling it familiar, “With her sweetened breath,” she mouthed, “and her tongue so mean,” the song title hitting her, someone was playing Hozier outside her window. The knock at the door proved it to not be Raf as he walked in placing a grocery bag on the counter.

She was slow as she moved off the bed, comforter wrapped around her as she made her way to the window. She pushed the curtain back a little looking down, there in the neon lighting she saw Wren, portable speaker in hand above her head. Cat opened the window a little bit, the song clearer now, Wren smiled at her, “Wes said you weren’t feeling well!” She shouted turning the volume down a little, “Thought you could use a little bit of a pick me up!” Cat gave her a smile, turning back to Wes who was already making his way to the door.

Cat only turned away once she saw Wes come up the side of the building, making her way to Raf in the small kitchen, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He smiled, placing a kiss on the top of her head, “Should I make the usual, Conejito?” She turned her head looking at what he had on the counter through her messy hair, boxes of Kraft mac and cheese in various shapes and a package of hot dogs. She felt her eyes fill with tears nodding against him. He moved the arm she leaned against to wrap around her shoulders pulling her closer to him, “As you wish mi amor,” he gave her a kiss on her forehead as Wren walked in through the door.

“Okay I want in on this rotation now,” she demanded gently pulling Cat towards her. Wren gave her a once over before pulling her in a hug, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she said into Wren’s dark hair, “I didn’t mean too.”

“No need to be sorry,” her hands ran over the blanket where Cat’s hair was, “Should have told me. You know I would understand,” Cat nodded against her, “But I know it’s because you don’t want to feel like burdening another person in your life. Now I know and I’m telling you that I do not feel like you are a burden.” She walked Cat back to the bed, “We’ll still give you the space you need,” if she wasn’t so tired Catlina would laugh at how quick Wren was in taking control of the situation, “but one of us will come by to make sure you’re at least eating one proper meal a day, got it?” Wren pointed a finger at her waiting for her response, Cat nodded, “Good. Now I made sure to get you at least a week off from work so you don’t have to worry about that. And tonight we are all watching your favorite movie and having dinner before we leave you alone.” Wren sat her on the bed taking a spot next to her grabbing a few movies options Cat had lying around.

Cat nodded, snuggling into Wren, resting her head against her shoulder, “Thank you,” she said softly. Cat glanced to the bed’s orientation, “We should turn the bed around. Make sure there’s enough room for all of you to sit comfortably.”

Wren smiled, lying Cat down, “Wes,” she instructed pulling his attention, “You heard her. Let's get this bed reoriented.” They were fast at making sure the long side of the bed faced the television, Wren settling back into place next to Cat. She helped her pick a movie that they all could watch while the two men cooked. Bowls were passed around once the food was done and Stardust was loaded up to play. The group only paused the movie to switch from dinner to dessert; a pint of raspberry cheesecake ice cream for Wren and Cat, lemon bars from a local bakery for Raf, and the spicy peanuts for Wes.

Cat was exhausted by the end of the movie and watched as everyone put things back in order. Wes put the bed back into place when she reached for his hand, he sat next to her on the bed, “Why did you call them here?”

“You needed us,” Cat looked down avoiding his face, “Can’t tell me you’d do any different.”

“You guys deserve all the love in the world,” she sighed, closing her eyes.

“So do you,” Wes laid her down, “It’s what friends do. Remind you how loved you are.”

#brotp: red brooks bros #Uhm yeah friendships that help the other are like my life blood okay #captain xwing

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bestgoldmutualfunds · 3 years

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Is It Illegal To Own Gold

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hphm-etched-engraved-everlasting · 3 years

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27. Clara

Author’s Note/Table of Contents

Owl or artefacts? Obedience or rebellion?

Mundungus Fletcher’s discovery had my search turn a full 180 after I told Jacob and little Em of my plan to gain a lead on the owl that the white quill came from. But did Dark Artefacts have anything to do with what laid in the next Vault? Either way, Fletcher said that if she got her hands on them, R would be one step closer to the Vault, and I was not about to take chances.

But the search didn’t go as planned--Bill couldn’t find them in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and then old Filch blabbed to Dumbledore after he caught me and Merula hanging around in his office. Professor Snape wasn’t much help with the cause either--rather, he was too busy brewing Veritaserum in his office, and then he said Rakepick’s Dark Artefacts were cursed themselves. Apparently they were cursed with unfamiliar Dark magic that even I personally couldn’t handle--not that I would try if I had the option to.

And now I found myself back in the Headmaster’s office, summoned by Professor Dumbledore who had heard the whole story from Filch. The pain from my tongue where my teeth pierced through every taste bud was nothing compared to that insatiable itch to put Rakepick to justice as soon as I potentially could.

He still doesn’t understand. He probably never would.

“Professor, please.” I’ve tried to exercise enough patience to the Headmaster now, but I could feel my temper rising within me. “Rakepick cannot get her hands on those Dark Artefacts! If she does, she’ll be one step closer to finding the last Cursed Vault! We have to stop her!”

“And we will,” Professor Dumbledore tried to reassure me. “You should be focusing on your studies--or did you already forget our earlier conversation about getting your priorities in order?”

“I haven’t forgotten. I just wanted to put Rakepick in her place--or at least do something to ensure that!”

“So you decided to ignore my request to leave these matters to us?”

It wasn’t like they weren’t trying--yet even if they did, I haven’t seen any visible proof.

“Ha! Serves you right, Lin,” Merula taunted me with a laugh.

“Miss Snyde, your obsession with finding Rakepick hasn’t gone unnoticed either,” Professor Dumbledore warned Merula now. “I do plan to save your lecture for another day, but you must do well to remember: revenge is an awful waste of talent.”

He then proceeded to tell me that the artefacts were housed at the Ministry, kept safe from the hands of those with “well intentions”. Basically a way to throw us off the search while we still could. The information did little to ease my conscience, though--if anything, it made me want to infiltrate the Ministry more than I wanted to slap Merula for her homicidal mindset. Yet the tone Dumbledore adopted as he spoke to me made me feel uneasy. There was a reason he put me in detention for most of my fifth year, after all.

Still, I couldn't just sit around and let the artefacts wait for its devious owner.

A long, loud sigh of defeat whooshed past my lips as I dropped onto a chair in the library, throwing my bag onto the table where it landed with a clink. I could hear Pince hiss a quick "SHH!" behind me, the sound passing through my brain like the rattling wind through the branches of the Whomping Willow, and I scowled under my breath as I took out my Transfiguration textbook and propped it open. I remembered Rowan bringing me to the library back in my third year to help me study so I could earn the privilege to go to Hogsmeade. Speaking of Rowan, I haven't seen her in a long while--where was she?

"Clara? You okay?"

I glanced up now to see Tulip walk over to me, pulling up a chair and sitting by me with a worried expression on her face. Aside from Rowan, Penny and Tonks, Tulip Karasu was also one of my closest friends at Hogwarts. Since the time we both worked together to conquer the Vault of Fear, as well as the time she helped me earn a spot in the Frog Choir, I felt like she was a really cool person to be friends with. Even if she was Merula's friend at first, we quickly grew to trust each other.

"Just bummed," I admitted, dropping my voice so Madam Pince couldn't hear. "Just when I get a lead on the search, someone had to call it off."

"Oh?" Tulip's face scrunched into one of confusion before her eyes widened in realization, and she nodded thoughtfully. "Ohhhhh."

"Yeah," I said. "The Vault. I've been looking for an eagle owl that's had an allegiance with 'R', but a source told me to look for Rakepick's Dark Artefacts instead. Dumbledore told me they'd be safe at the Ministry, but I'm not convinced of it."

"You mean the artefacts Rakepick always made us study last year? Would they still be in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, then?"

"Bill and I already searched there. No luck."

"So that should be enough to tell you to stay away from the Ministry, Clara," a new voice laced with a slight sneer piped up.

I turned around to see Percy Weasley hovering over me and Tulip with a disgusted look on his face.

"Look, I can't just sit around and do nothing while Rakepick could have some idea to disable the Ministry's security and infiltrate the building undetected," I countered firmly. "Yes, it would mean my parents would be mad at me, but I have to do this for the ultimate greater good."

"And if you're caught?" Percy inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"All the more reason to take a risk!" Tulip said with a nod, slowly catching on with the plan. "No risk, no reward!"

"Wait, wait. Tulip, don't your parents work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Percy asked Tulip then. "You break the rules despite your parents working for that Department?"

Tulip gave Percy an incredulous look and began laughing so loud, I thought Madam Pince would dash over on hot heels to shush us indefinitely.

"Oh, you naive child," Tulip said with a shake of her head. "I break the rules because my parents work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Percy, I'm not asking you to actually come with me to the Ministry if I do decide to break in one day just to get the artefacts," I told Percy then. "But I know you want to work there in the future, so I could really use the knowledge of it. I've never been inside the Ministry despite my parents working there starting last year, anyway."

Percy glanced at both me and Tulip rather incredulously for a few seconds before heaving his own sigh of defeat. "Fine. For the record, I still think this plan is wrong and a total violation of the rules, but you helped find Fred and George when they went missing without asking any questions, so..." He clenched his fist and nodded. "Let's just do this before I come to my senses."

And so they gave me the low-down of the Ministry's interior. I knew of the hidden entrances to hide prying eyes from Muggles, as my parents told me, but I was not prepared to hear that it was located underground in London. Not to mention the fact that there was a department on every floor, accessible by a lift except for the tenth floor--well, I could only imagine the environment my parents worked in every day. I was surprised Tulip had been to the Ministry a few times with her parents back in the day, knowing how much she doesn't like the prospect of being with her parents who were so firm on keeping everything in line. Still, they both gave me enough information for me to figure out the general layout.

"Oh wow," I eventually remarked. "The Ministry seems much more complex and intimidating than I thought. Seems like this infiltration plan of mine provides more problems than I thought--getting in would be hard, and even if I do get in, it'll be hard to find the artefacts, let alone access them." I sighed and closed my Transfiguration book. "I could ask my parents, but I have to keep Jacob's word. I can't let them know why I'm doing this."

"I'd ask my parents, but they don't want me to have anything to do with you," Tulip added dejectedly. "They think you're a troublemaker. I think that's your best quality."

Talk about strict parents, I thought. Perhaps they'd need a lesson or two from my mother about what makes proper parenthood for both themselves and their children.

"And my dad gets in enough trouble at his job as it is," Percy said. "I don't want to give them a reason to sack him."

No connections on the inside to help? This plan was in much worse shape than I thought.

"I think I know of one other person who works at the Ministry who might be able to help," Tulip finally said, pulling out her quill and a piece of parchment from her own bag. "Remember Chester Davies? He helped you with the frog choir auditions."

"You mean the old Ravenclaw prefect? Yeah, I remember," I recalled. "You sure he could help? I don't think he knows me or remembers me much."

"I'm sure. He'll have to see it's for our good," Tulip assured me firmly. "For those who have a future in the wizarding workforce...they have to overcome these problems at school before anything else."

Percy could only throw an exasperated look as he left us, and the scratching of Tulip's quill on parchment did little to ease my conscience fully. Even with this possibility, the plan could still fail.

Yet I knew it was far too late to obey my brother's words.

#I had to edit this big time to keep it flowing with what other chapters I already had #idk if I'm gonna throw in any of the tlsqs in the year yet #i might #i'm contemplating on it #but eh #most of this chapter was unchanged though so #that's sorta a bonus #the next chapter would be the absolute last one taken from wattpad #and then i'll have to write everything from scratch #wow how long has it been since i last updated this #and meanwhile the year itself is almost over #chapter 28 will come swiftly though #hphm year 6 #hphm spoilers #hphm clara lin #hphm merula snyde #hphm dumbledore #etched engraved everlasting

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

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Set My Soul on Fire

Summary: What happens when the high school principal’s son falls in love with the pastor’s daughter?

Hiding a relationship is hard, especially since Killian’s girlfriend is seventeen and not allowed to date until she’s thirty, it’s even harder to hide her pregnant belly. Can Killian save his relationship with Emma when her parents find out? Some miracles are worth fighting for no matter what. Especially when there’s a little hope involved and a whole lot of love.

Teen Pregnancy AU

Notes: Check out the lovely banner @itsfabianadocarmo made for me here. Thank you so much!

Okay, we are back, finally. I hope everyone is staying safe and well during these times, and I hope this chapter is able to take your mind away from it for a bit. I do have to warn you though, it's not full of unicorns and rainbows, so please grab some tissues before you start reading. Even I was bawling my eyes while writing this and I knew this chapter was coming for several months! Trust me, you're going to hate me by the end of it and feel the urge to throw things, and I won't blame you one bit. I do hope to redeem myself in the coming chapters though, so please bear with me.

Thank you so so much @ultraluckycatnd for looking it over and thank you, everyone, for reading!

Rated: Mature

Catch up: Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4 l Ch 5 l Ch 6 l Ch 7 l Ch 8

Also available: AO3 l FF.N

Chapter 9

“I have to use the bathroom. Can I get you anything, baby?”

Emma smiles sweetly at her boyfriend and shakes her head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay, love.” He leans over and kisses her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

“Kay.”

As Killian stands up, she sets down her pen and digs into her bag in search of a pen that works. The ink ran out when she was trying to finish writing out the last equation, and Mr. Meade always encourages them to use pens on their math homework because he says erasing makes math all about the right answer, and he’d rather it be about the learning process. Before Killian started tutoring her, she’d always used a pencil, but now she’s confident enough in her work to use a pen.

She looks up as Killian is heading for the door. “Actually, do you have an extra pen? Mine ran out of ink.”

“Sure, love,” he says, turning around, his hand lingering on the doorknob. “There’s one in my bag. And since we’re almost done with your Trig, if you want to get out my Chemistry notes from my bag too, we can start on that afterward.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome.” He rushes over and kisses her again, this time on the lips. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” She gazes at him with a sappy grin on her face and rests her hand on her baby bump. “We both love you.”

Killian chuckles and bends over to drop a kiss to her belly. He strokes her belly, speaking in a low murmur. “Daddy loves you too, little love.”

Emma's heart flutters, a giggle escaping her throat. She loves when Killian talks to their baby and kisses her baby bump, especially since she's only in her first trimester. This means there will be many more gentle kisses and sweet nothings spoken to her pregnant belly.

After he leaves the bedroom, Emma goes to the bed and unzips his backpack. She's so lucky to have him helping her with her homework. Her grades have improved significantly since she came to Storybrooke, since he started tutoring her. She needs to maintain a 3.0 GPA to go to Storybrooke University, so she can’t let her grades slip. Her future with Killian and their little bean depends on it.

Emma pulls out his notebook labeled Chemistry. She unzips one of his front pockets and reaches into it, feeling around for a pen. When she finds one, she grabs it and pulls it out, accidentally taking something else with it. An envelope falls to his Star Wars comforter, and Emma picks it up to replace it in his backpack. But when her eyes catch the eagle emblazoned on the envelope, she pauses and takes a second look at it. It’s a letter addressed to Killian from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University.

Her heart tightens at the prospect of what the envelope may contain. She should just put the envelope back and not read it. She starts to replace it in the bag, but she knows if she doesn’t look inside, the curiosity and guilt will consume her. Emma may not be the brightest, but she’s not oblivious to the possibility that he's capable of getting accepted into the best schools in the country. So it's very likely she's only holding him back by being pregnant with his child.

Emma’s curiosity gets the best of her and she opens the unsealed envelope. Killian had already seen the contents and yet he had never mentioned the university to her or that he even applied there.

She pulls out the crisp page and begins reading.

Welcome to Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University!

It’s an acceptance letter.

Killian got accepted into the largest accredited university specializing in aviation and aerospace, and the ample opportunities that come along with it. Her heart swells with pride as she scans the letter, a smile lighting up her face. He had told her he didn’t care where he got his education, but passing up an opportunity like this could be a huge mistake. The possibilities for Killian would be endless and he would have a degree he could be proud of instead of a degree from some small town no one who lives further than a fifty-mile radius has even heard of. Emma’s face pales and her smile dims when she looks at the sender’s address and realizes the university is in Daytona Beach, Florida. He couldn’t get much further away from her than Daytona Beach unless he went to school on the West Coast.

Emma skims through the letter and searches for the date he has to reply by and finds it toward the bottom. May 1st. She tucks the letter into the envelope and sticks it into his bag where when she finds a few more letters. They’re all from schools with the best aviation programs in the country, and every one of them would require him to leave the state to attend. They would all take him away from her and the baby. They would take him away from their plan.

Her heart physically hurts, tears springing to her eyes as she reaches for the promise necklace Killian gave her and fingers the pendant. She knows she could never get into one of those colleges. It’s already too late in the game. She barely has the grades to get into Storybrooke as it is. And she doesn't want to move that far from home and deprive both their child and their parents of the chance to be close and spend time together. Killian would have to choose either one of those colleges or her and the baby. He wouldn’t be able to have both.

Emma releases the pendant, letting it dangle from the chain and replaces all the contents in his bag before zipping up all the pockets she had opened. She grabs the pen and notebook, taking them over to the desk and reclaims her seat, trying to fight back tears. She tries not to think about the acceptance letters, but she knows the guilt of making him settle for Storybrooke University will eat her alive.

Killian returns with two Cherry Cokes, flashing a warm grin.

Emma looks away before he can see the despair written all over her face, and she blinks away her unshed tears as she returns to the equation she was working on when her pen had run out.

He cracks open one of the cans and hands it to her. “Here you go, love. In case you get thirsty,” he says sweetly, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

Emma accepts the soda with a small smile and thanks him before taking a sip. She wants to mention the letters, but if she does, she knows Killian will say he’s not going to any of those colleges. He’ll say he doesn’t want to be separated from Emma or the baby. He made a promise to her, and if there’s one thing she’s learned about Killian, it’s that he always keeps his promises.

~*~

“Are you ready, love?”

Emma nods and offers a small smile, even though she’s nowhere near ready. She’s a nervous wreck. Why? Because today, she and Killian plan on telling her father she’s pregnant. After informing Killian her mother figured it out already, it relieved him to know how well she took the news and that she‘s allowing Emma and Killian to tell David. They also plan on telling her father they’re raising the baby together. But ever since Emma discovered that letter from Embry-Riddle a few days ago, she’s not even sure how she feels about dragging Killian to Storybrooke University with her. She knows he can do so much better than this place, and she’d feel too guilty if he chose another path because of her. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Are you?”

Killian places his hand on her baby bump through her thick winter jacket, delicately stroking her stomach in soothing circles, and smiles as he kisses her temple. “Aye. Just pray for me, love, will you? I wish to live long enough to hold our baby in my arms.”

Emma laughs, despite the nerves eating away at her insides. His touch has a calming effect on her and eases her more than anything in the world ever could. The laughter dies quickly in her throat, though. The possibility of her father overreacting is very possible. She just hopes her worst fears won’t come true. She hopes her father won’t try to hurt him. Her father has never been a violent person, he’s always been the exact opposite—loving and caring and composed—but then again, no one’s ever knocked up his daughter before… until now.

Killian had told his father she was pregnant, and Mr. Jones was angry at first because he had warned Killian not to go after the pastor’s daughter, that there would be consequences from the pastor. Thankfully, he calmed down and had an open discussion about it with his son. Killian told his father he was helping Emma raise the baby, and pride had replaced his disappointment. He only wanted Killian to do the right thing by Emma, and they were able to talk through it.

Emma’s hoping her father will react in a similar fashion—disappointed, but able to talk through it.

Killian kisses her lips for a few seconds before resting his forehead against hers, his hand still caressing her stomach. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together, okay?”

“Okay,” Emma whispers and swallows the large lump in her throat. She feels nauseous, but not because of her pregnancy.

As Killian gets out of her car and goes to his truck, jumping into the driver’s seat, her heart is aching at the thought of ruining his future. He waves and smiles at her through their windows as he fires up the engine. She waves and smiles back, hoping he can’t see the devastation and conflict she feels at the moment. She pulls out of the school parking lot and heads home, stewing in her thoughts, being tormented by how slowly the moments pass until that inevitable moment when both of their lives may change.

~*~

Less than a year later...

Emma pulls out of the Riverbend Apartments parking lot and makes her way through heavy traffic. She glances at the clock for the hundredth time before returning her eyes to the road ahead. She’s running late again for her first class of the day, but luckily it’s a big, dimly lit lecture hall, so the professor rarely acknowledges or even notices when students arrive late. Even so, she hates being late for class. Luckily today, the traffic is flowing smoothly, and Emma’s able to make it to her destination quickly.

After killing the engine, she gets out and shoves the car keys in her pocket before tugging her grey beanie more snugly over her ears as the chilly wind hits her face. She reaches the backseat door and hauls it open.

A smile lights up her face when she sees her daughter blinking open her beautiful, sea-blue eyes above the pale pink blanket with grey polka dots draped over the bottom half of the car seat to keep her warm.

“We’re here, kiddo,” Emma coos as she brushes a thumb over her daughter’s cheek.

Hope stirs a bit, lifting her mitten covered hands to each side of her face as she lets out a little yawn, a bubble forming at her mouth. By the looks of her sweet, angelic face, you could never tell she made a big fuss and gave her mommy a hard time this morning when Emma was getting Hope in her cute little outfit, comprising a sleeper onesie, a white, long-sleeved shirt, pink pants with elephants printed on them and a matching cap on her head.

It feels like only yesterday when she brought her sweet baby girl home from the hospital. Emma’s heart was bursting with love when she first gazed upon Hope. It still does when she looks at her, and it hurts like hell whenever she has to drop her off and leave her before heading to class.

Hope is her world, and she thanks God every day for the precious gift she’s been given.

~*~

Present...

When she reaches her house, her heart is hammering in her chest as Killian pulls up behind her car. The entire drive here had been torture. She takes a long, heavy breath and gets out of the car.

As they make their way up the walk, holding hands, she places her other hand on her belly, as though trying to reassure her baby that everything will be alright. Killian senses the uneasiness she feels and offers her an encouraging smile, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She puts on a small smile of her own, and they walk up the porch steps as he whispers in her ear, “Everything will be okay, love.”

And here she’s supposed to be the optimistic one because she knows everything that happens is God’s will. Or so her father has preached about all her life.

Her heart is pounding mercilessly as she opens the door and they step inside, releasing each other’s hand. The kitchen is buzzing with pleasant chatter, so she leads her boyfriend there without even bothering to remove her coat, only unzips it so she can breathe properly as she prepares to ruin her father’s day. She just wants to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.

It’s just her parents here; her mother had suggested to Leo that he go over to his friend’s house for a couple of hours before dinner, so of course he didn’t argue with her about that.

Her father is the first to see them, and his friendly demeanor fades, his eyes shooting daggers at Killian as he rises from his chair. “What’s he doing here?”

Mary Margaret places a hand on her husband’s arm, looking up at him from her chair with pleading eyes. “Sit down, honey, Emma and Killian have to tell you something.”

“Tell me what?” he demands, eyeing his wife in confusion.

“Just sit and let them speak.”

David gulps as he glances between his daughter and Killian. “If you’re telling me you’re dating, I already told you I forbid it.”

Emma’s praying her voice doesn’t give out on her or that she doesn’t chicken out when she speaks. “That’s not what we’re about to tell you, Daddy.” It’s not the most important thing at least.

The walk from the kitchen door to the table only takes a few seconds, but it feels like the longest trek she’s ever made, maybe because she can hear her erratic heart pounding in her ear, or because her father’s death glare pinned on her boyfriend sucks the air completely from her lungs.

David is sitting at the head of the table, so Emma claims the seat next to him and Killian sits on the other side of her. He can't seem to keep his knee from bobbing up and down, nor can he stop scratching behind his ear, so Emma reaches for him, threading her fingers through his underneath the table and rests their joined hands on his knee. His leg stops shaking, and he gives her a frail smile.

David reclines back, folding his arms as he glares at Killian. “Well, whatever it is, I’m telling your father about this. I specifically told you to stay away from my—”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out, cutting him off. She hadn’t meant to say it like that. She had meant to ease into it, but she thought she’d save Killian from having to hear her father’s unnecessary lectures.

As David’s eyes widen with pure shock, his face draining of all color, as he takes time to process what his daughter has just told him, she glances at Killian and squeezes his hand, giving him the signal (and the courage) to speak.

Killian looks at David dead in the eye and clears his throat. “I’m the father.”

Emma’s expecting her dad to rise from his chair. She’s expecting anger to consume him, and maybe that will come eventually, but at the moment there’s silence.

Loud, deafening silence.

She can almost hear crickets chirping, as though she had just told an awful joke. She doesn't know if she should speak again or she should wait for the news to take hold of him. So she waits with bated breath while wearing the weight of his certain disappointment and possible anger. Then there’s the indescribable and overwhelming feeling of shame that washes over her in waves. She's ashamed of lying to him. Ashamed she went behind his back. But she’d feared he would never be okay with her dating Killian. She’s also ashamed because now her father knows Emma had broken her promise when she had accepted her purity ring. She went against her father’s wishes and had sex out of wedlock. She went against God. She had committed a sin. But so did her father, eighteen years ago.

“I know you said I couldn’t date, but when Killian and I met, we couldn’t deny our feelings for each other,” Emma explains. “And when you made him promise not to see me anymore, we tried to stop it.”

That might be a slight alteration of the truth. They hadn’t tried very hard.

“I love your daughter, Mr. Nolan,” Killian professes to her father, even though David has yet to breathe a word. He looks at Emma again and places his other hand over their joined ones. “We didn't mean for this to happen, but I promise you I will take care of them.” His eyes are still locked on hers as he raises her hand and plants a gentle kiss on her knuckles. His gentle lips soothe her soul more than she can even begin to comprehend, and she graces him with a soft smile.

Emma’s father is still speechless, just staring off into space, and Mary Margaret is eyeing him in concern.

“David, say something.”

Finally, his eyes slowly travel to his wife. “You knew about this?”

“I figured it out a week ago on my own, but I wanted Emma and Killian to tell you themselves.”

“You knew they were seeing each other behind my back?” he asks her, but his voice is surprisingly calm, lacking any trace of anger. If he’s enraged, he’s doing a damn good job at hiding it.

“Only after I figured out Emma was pregnant.”

“And you said nothing to me about it?” he asks her in a stoic tone.

“David, that's not important right now,” she says softly and places a hand on his arm. “What's done is done.”

Her father’s shoulders sag as he joins his hands on the table, hanging his head. Emma can’t tell if he’s inwardly praying or just contemplating what to say.

They sit there in silence again, but the silence is so tense and overwhelming, she swears she can hear her blood pumping.

Finally, her father raises his head and looks at her with tears in his eyes. “Sweetheart, I am so disappointed. I am.”

Now it was her turn to hang her head.

“You've made poor choices, which now have consequences,” he continues. “It won't be easy and there will be struggles and a hard path ahead of you. But I love you. I want you to know that. No matter what decisions you make, you will always be my daughter.” Emma swears she can see the slightest smile tugging at his lips. “And now I have been given more to love.”

Wait, what?! Her mouth is agape. Before she can respond, her father gets up from his chair, and he looks like he’ll burst into tears. She rises from her chair and turns to face him. He reaches for her, wrapping her up in his arms, and simply holds her.

It’s exactly what she needed and nothing she expected.

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, trying to fight off her tears as he cradles the back of her head and drops a kiss through her hair. Emma’s heart bursts and the dams break, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shaking as she cries, “I am so sorry I broke your rules, Dad. I am so sorry. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you.”

What she encounters is something she’d been taught by him all her life, but never fully grasped… until now.

Grace.

She wasn't expecting this at all, but she is very grateful.

When they break the hug, Emma sniffles and wipes her tears. Mary Margaret is beaming with tears in her eyes, and she gets up and returns with some tissues, handing one to Emma and David.

Killian stands, and Emma can tell he’s less nervous as he offers a smile of relief. His gaze meets her father’s as he speaks sincerely. “I’m also sorry I lied to you—”

“Get out.”

Emma’s eyes snap to her father’s, shock washing over her once again. “But, Dad—”

“Not you, sweetie.” David stares at Killian with a steely expression. “I asked you to stay away from my daughter and you stood right in front of me and lied to my face.”

Guilt flashes in Killian’s eyes as he hangs his head. “I know… and I’m sorry....”

“Saying your sorry doesn’t change anything. I said, get out of my house.”

Emma eyes her father in disbelief. What happened to the grace he had just shown? “He is the father of my child! You can’t keep us apart anymore.”

“Emma, as long as you live under my roof, I want him out of my house and out of your life.” David tries to walk away, but his wife grabs his arm trying to stop him.

“David, Killian is accepting his duties as a soon to be father. He’s not running away from this. Why would you deny him that?”

David spins around and looks her in the eye. “Because they’re too young. They’re barely children themselves. In fact, I think it’s better if you and I adopted Emma’s baby so we can give Emma her best chance.”

“Um, what?!” Now Emma is furious. She’s beyond furious. She raises her hand to her belly through her thick sweater. “This is my child.” She looks at Killian and takes his hand in her free one. “Our child. And we’re keeping the baby.”

“Emma…” David looks at her with pleading eyes. “I’m only looking out for your future here.”

Something sweeps over Emma that she’s never quite experienced before… not like this, and it’s something she’s witnessed with her own mother, something she's seen on Animal Planet when the mother bear is protecting her cubs. Before that pregnancy test showed positive a month ago, Emma had never realized how much a pregnancy forces a woman to grow up, whether they’re a teen or a fully grown adult. And all of those protective, motherly emotions hit her like a freight train, and she expresses them twofold. “My future includes Killian and this baby—as my child!” she clarifies vehemently. “So if you’re not on board with that, then that’s fine! I won’t be living under your roof anymore. We’re leaving!” She tugs on Killian’s hand, pulling him through the kitchen door.

“Emma, please, don’t go,” her mother begs, her words choked between sobs.

Her mother’s heart-wrenching pleas almost break her.

Willing herself to ignore them, Emma continues through the front door and makes her way down the porch steps, hauling her boyfriend with her. The image of her mother’s gutted expression makes her want to turn around and go back, but she fights the urge. Her long, loose hair whips around in the cold, frigid winds as they head to his truck. Tears sting her eyes as the chill in the air makes her shiver all the way to her bones, and she pulls down the sleeve of her jacket to cover the hand that’s not clutching tightly around Killian’s left one.

“Wait, Emma…” Killian tugs on her hand when they reach the walkway, forcing her to stop and turn around. “Do you really want to leave your parents?” he asks, his expression and tone racked with guilt. “I don’t want to be the reason you shut them out of our lives, baby. I mean, I don’t want you to shut them out at all. They’re your parents.”

Emma loves how he says our lives, but somehow his statement sends a shock wave of realization through her. He’s right; she doesn’t want to shut her parents out. Despite her father’s behavior toward Killian, she still loves him and wants him to be a part of her child’s life. Utterly confused and conflicted, Emma sobs uncontrollably, and Killian pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “No, I don’t wanna leave them.”

Her parents rush outside, pausing on the porch when they see Emma and Killian on the lawn. Emma sniffles and lifts her head, wiping her tears as she looks at her mother through a watery gaze. The fear and devastation is evident in her mother’s pale features as tears run down her cheeks. David wraps his arms around his wife and holds her, both of them wrecked and broken as they pray and wait and gaze at their daughter with desperate, pleading eyes.

Emma gulps and glances between them and Killian as she places her hand on her belly. She could go with him and leave her parents behind. Her brother. But she can’t bear the thought of never seeing her parents or Leo again. She loves her family and can’t stomach the idea of her baby growing up without knowing them. She can’t stomach the idea of being away from them. She also can’t stomach the idea of preventing Killian from living his life. He wants to be a pilot, and he can literally go to any college in the country. And she would forever regret it if she kept him from living his dream.

Emma turns around, taking his hands in hers, her fingers trembling. “Killian, I saw the letters.”

“What letters, love?” he asks softly, furrowing his brows.

Emma forces a doleful smile through her tears. “You got accepted to Embry-Riddle. I found the letter a few days ago in your bag when I was looking for a pen.”

“But Emma, I can explain. My father wanted me to apply for many colleges to keep my options open.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “It doesn’t matter though, I want to be with you and the baby, wherever that may be.”

Emma shakes her head, as though the movement would stop her pulse from throbbing in her ear. “I want you to go to Embry-Riddle. You’ve earned this.”

His smile fades, his eyes wide, flashing with fear. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

The plea in his features hits her hard, but she pushes through it, as much it hurts. She’d never forgive herself if he compromised his dreams to be with her. “I can’t let you settle for less than what you deserve. Your dream is to be a pilot, and how are you going to be a father if you’re gone all the time? That’s not a life I want for my child, or for you.”

His eyes glisten with tears as he releases one of her hands to caress the apple of her cheek, his fingers trembling. “But, Emma, baby, I can make it work.” His words are completely shattered. “I can pick something else. I don’t have to be a pilot.”

She gulps down everything she feels for Killian and forces the words out, even though it kills her to say them. “You said the only reason you would ever leave is if I asked you to… so I’m asking you… I’m begging you...” Emma swallows the large lump in her throat, her bottom lip quivering. She’s on the verge of bursting into tears again. “Please leave, Killian. I don’t want to be with you anymore,” she lies flat-out. She doesn’t know if it’s believable enough, but she’s gotten good at lying over the past few months. Lying to her parents. Lying about being with him. Disguising her feelings for him. So she figures she should be a pro at it by now.

Judging by how white his face turns, how his hand goes limp as it falls from her cheek, how his expression completely knocks the wind out of her like someone sucker-punched her in the stomach, her claim must’ve been convincing enough. Now she just has to do the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, other than telling him she doesn’t want him anymore. She yanks the necklace from her neck and takes his hand, turns it over and deposits the silver chain and pendant in his palm, closing his fingers tightly around the contents. When she looks up, Killian is opening his fist and staring at the necklace. He lifts his head as tears stream down his cheeks. He looks like he’s just been stabbed in the heart.

The ache clamps around her own heart so tightly, she thinks if she takes a full breath, her heart will just explode into a million pieces. This boy—this man… he is the only person in the world who sees her right down to her bones. And has accepted her completely. None of the self-discipline or things she’s learned in church or from her father had mattered when she was around him. She threw all of it out the window for him. And she’ll never once regret it. NEVER. She’ll never regret giving in to her primal, lustful desires for him, she’ll never regret kissing him or making love with him or becoming pregnant with his child. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispers, her words completely cracked and barely audible as she places her hand on her belly. “I have to do what’s best for my baby.”

As wrecked and heartbroken as he looks, he nods and wipes at his tears. “As you wish, Emma.”

She hates that he's keeping his promise, she hates that he’s kept all of his promises, because if he hadn’t, then she never would’ve allowed her heart to give in. And if she didn’t love him completely, then this would be so much easier. But she's also glad he's not making this any harder than it already is. She hates herself for pushing him away, though. She regrets her decision as much as she's trying to keep his dreams intact. She regrets it even more when he does something she doesn't expect. He falls to his knees and places his hands on her belly. Emma peers down at him through a watery gaze as he leans in, whispering sweet nothings to their child. She can't believe this will be the last time he'll be whispering sweet nothings to her belly. The thought draws a tear from her eye that's blown into the snow by a sharp gust of wind.

“I have to go now, but just know that…” he pauses when his voice cracks, “I’ll always love you... no matter what. Take care of your mum for me, okay?” He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to her stomach, and she feels the wetness from his tears as they soak her sweater. “Goodbye, little love.” His voice is strained, and she can tell he’s trying not to break down completely in her front yard. He stands up and lifts her hand, dropping a gentle kiss to her knuckles, his soft lips warming her soul, despite the ice running through her veins. “Goodbye, Emma,” he says, never breaking eye contact with her. “I’ll never stop loving you. Never.”

She'll never stop loving him either, but she can't tell him that. She can't fill him with false hope that there’s a possibility of them getting back together in the future. “Bye, Killian,” she whispers, barely able to produce the words from her throat as another tear rolls down her cheek.

He releases her hand and turns around, his shoulders sagged as he heads to his truck.

Correction. Watching him walk away is the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

She can no longer breathe; as many breaths as she tries to take, the surrounding air is too thin, and she feels like she’s suffocating. Drowning in the middle of the ocean and she can’t keep her head above water.

As she watches him get in his truck, watches him pull out of the driveway, it takes everything within her to not run after him, either that or break down and cry. But as soon as the truck is out of sight, she no longer cares about maintaining her semblance of strength.

Emma takes a raspy, painful breath and lets the powerful torrents pull her under, lets the ocean consume her completely. She sobs like she’s never sobbed before. The painful clamp around her heart just closed shut, making her heart combust, and it hurts so fucking badly, unlike any other pain she’s ever experienced before, she’s worried her baby can feel her pain. She almost falls to the ground in a blubbering mess of tears, but two pairs of arms are holding her up and drawing her in. Her parents hold her in their arms, letting her cry to her heart's content as she tells them she let him go. She let the only boy she’s ever loved walk away so he could live his best life.

“Everything will be okay, sweetie,” David whispers softly and drops a kiss to the crown of her head, squeezing her tight.

Any resentment she feels for her father still lingers in her gut, but she would never forgive herself if her baby had to grow up without knowing Emma’s parents.

~*~

Less than a year later...

Emma unstraps Hope from the baby seat, and carefully picks her up, holding her three-month-old securely in her arms with the blanket wrapped around her little body and presses a delicate kiss to her little cheek. She goes around to the other side and grabs Hope’s diaper bag containing everything her baby will need while Emma is at school, before making her way up the familiar walkway. The walkway where she’d broken Killian’s heart (and her own). A bitter, unforgiving wind slices through the air and swallows her, making her shiver. But of course, it could be the memory that makes her shiver. Or both.

She pulls the blanket higher over the back of Hope’s head and holds her closer as she ascends the porch steps. Before she reaches the front door, it’s already being opened as her father steps outside.

He’s donning a big, happy grin on his face and relieves Emma of the bag, strapping it over his shoulder. “There are my two lovely princesses.”

Emma smiles as they head inside the house. Once they reach the foyer, she transfers her baby to David’s arms without the blanket and removes Hope's mittens and hat, revealing the wispy blonde hair on top of her head.

“Sorry we’re running late again. You know how fussy Hope gets when I’m getting her ready for the day.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he chuckles as he lifts his granddaughter into the air and swoops her down, kissing her cheek, making Hope giggle. Emma’s heart always melts when she hears the gleeful chime of her baby’s laugh. It warms her soul. There is no better sound in the world. His eyes are glued to Hope's face as she curls her little hand around his finger. “ She’s always a perfect little angel for grandma and grandpa.”

As though on cue, her mother steps into the foyer, her face lighting up when she sees her granddaughter. “There she is!” Mary Margaret takes Hope’s little hand and kisses both of her cheeks. Her eyes are full of love when she looks from her granddaughter to her daughter and scoops Emma up into a big hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you both so much.”

“You just saw me yesterday,” Emma laughs, wrapping her arms around her mother. Though, she can certainly understand missing her bubbly baby girl every second of the day whenever she’s not in her presence.

“True, but your father and I always miss you when you’re gone, right sweetie?” she asks her husband, breaking the hug.

“Of course we do,” David replies, looking at Emma. “You’re our baby girl. You’ll always be our baby girl.” He transfers Hope into his wife’s arms and pulls his arm around Emma’s shoulders, kissing her temple. “We don’t even know what we would do without you.”

“Ugh, I don’t even want to think about that,” Mary Margaret murmurs as she gently rocks Hope in her arms.

Emma smiles weakly, her eyes welling with tears when she thinks back to that dreadful day almost a year ago, that day she’d almost left her parents and shut them out completely from her and her daughter’s lives. She’s so grateful she had made the right decision and stayed with them. She’s so glad she didn’t leave.

She’s so glad Hope has her grandma and grandpa Nolan.

Tagging some people who have either shown interest or asked to be tagged.

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#cs ff #captain swan #cs ff au #lieutenant duckling #baby hope #set my soul on fire #my fic

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