#to beatrices pause and smile at her comment

[autistickhunsam]

actually heres the whole scene i know its on the long side but its a great scene for multiple reasons

#from ava being like 🤪🤪 when beatrice is clearly struggling w the story #to beatrices pause and smile at her comment #to the heartfelt scene #beatrice snapping at ava and then containing herself and her emotions again #i could write a whole paper on this scene #warrior nun #sister beatrice #ava silva #avatrice #video #myclip

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 364. brb x oc

a/n: ello (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

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@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia @mrsbradshaw01

-

She didn’t sleep well that night.

She lied there, eyes locked on the ceiling as her husband slept next to her. She was trying to understand what was going on, and why oh why they don’t have a break from this. Beatrice exhales quietly through her nose, looking back at Rooster who had his back to her.

So, what did they had on John so far?

…nothing.

Mav called Cyclone but all the Vice-Admiral could say was that he did look like Rooster, but he didn’t look that old to be his uncle.

She turned onto her side, her gaze lingering on Rooster's sleeping form. He looked so peaceful, so serene, unaware of the turmoil brewing inside her. Beatrice smiles softly, gently brushing some of the hair that curled on his forehead.

She slipped quietly out of bed, careful not to wake Rooster as she made her way downstairs. She needed some time alone, some space to clear her head and sort through her thoughts.

The house was quiet as Beatrice descended the stairs, the only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she gazed out into the darkness beyond.

The night air was cool against her skin, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees in the yard. Beatrice closed her eyes, letting the peacefulness of the night envelop her, if only for a moment.

With a sigh, Beatrice turned away from the window and made her way to the living room. She settled onto the couch, pulling a blanket around her shoulders as she curled up against the cushions. She heard Jolene’s claws clicking, looking back only to see the pittie trotting towards her, “Hey girlie.” she smiles, “C’mere.” and she pats the cushion.

Jolene wagged her tail happily, her tongue lolling out in a canine grin as she bounded onto the couch beside Beatrice. The warmth of her furry body pressed against Beatrice's side, and Beatrice stroked Jolene's soft fur. Jolene leaned into the touch, emitting a contented sigh as she nuzzled closer to Beatrice.

"You're such a good girl, Jolene," Beatrice murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Jolene responded with a gentle woof, her eyes filled with warmth as she gazed up at Beatrice once she plopped her head on her thigh. “Yeah,girl,I know…” she rubs her eyes, “I’m just a bit tired is all.”

Beatrice sat in the quiet of the living room, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. With a heavy sigh, Beatrice leaned back against the cushions, her gaze fixed on the wind outside, the leaves moving, fall was just around the corner.

With a weary sigh, Beatrice closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift into a restless sleep. Her dreams were filled with whispers and shadows, with echoes of a past she couldn't quite grasp.

It doesn’t last long because she hears his footsteps walking down the stairs.

Beatrice stirred from her restless slumber as she heard the soft padding of footsteps descending the stairs. She blinked groggily, rubbing her eyes as she sat up on the couch, glancing towards the source of the sound.

Rooster emerged from the darkness, his silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of the moon filtering through the windows. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze searching the room until he spotted Beatrice sitting on the couch.

"Hey, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice soft with concern. "I thought I heard you downstairs. Everything okay?"

Beatrice forced a tired smile, nodding as she pushed herself up from the couch. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice hoarse with sleep. "Just couldn't sleep, that's all."

Rooster's brows furrowed with worry as he approached Beatrice, his eyes filled with tenderness as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "You sure?" he asked, his tone gentle. "You seem...restless."

Beatrice sighed, leaning into Rooster's touch as she met his gaze. "It's nothing, really," she insisted, forcing herself to sound more awake than she felt. "Just...a lot on my mind, I guess."

Rooster studied Beatrice for a moment, his gaze searching hers for any signs of distress. He seemed to sense her reluctance to talk about whatever was bothering her, but he respected her boundaries, choosing instead to offer her comfort and support.

"Okay," he said softly, pulling Beatrice into his arms. "Want some company?”

Beatrice melted into Rooster's embrace, feeling a rush of warmth and security wash over her as she rested her head against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline in the midst of a storm.

Rooster held her close, his arms strong and comforting around her. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, his lips brushing against her hair with a gentle caress. "Now,gorgeous.” he begins, “What’s bothering you really?”

"It's just...everything," Beatrice finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "The uncertainty, the constant worry...about you, about the kids, about...everything."

Rooster tightened his embrace,and his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on her back as he listened to her pour out her fears and anxieties.

"I feel like I'm drowning sometimes," Beatrice continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "Like no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to catch my breath. And then there's...this whole ordeal."

“Hmmm…”

She blinked up at him, “...you don’t seem that bothered about it.”

Rooster's expression softened at Beatrice's observation, his gaze shifting away for a moment before meeting her eyes once more. "I won't lie, Bea," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "It's not that I'm not bothered by it, but... I guess we’ve been through so much already.” he shrugs “And yeah, it is weird and yeah, this is……uh…I dunno, not something I’d like but, we’ll be okay.”

Beatrice studied Rooster's face, searching for any signs of the turmoil she knew must be brewing beneath the surface. She could see the shadows of worry in his eyes, the furrow of his brow betraying the weight of his thoughts.

"Sometimes it's easier to put on a brave face than to let the fear consume you," Rooster continued, his voice soft but resolute. "But that doesn't mean I'm not affected by it. It's just...I've learned to compartmentalize, I guess. Which,I know, it’s something I don’t have to do but…right now its helping.’

“...okay.” she frowns, “...I just wish we had a break, you know. We…dealt with so much in the past five months…”

Beatrice's words hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges they had faced in recent months. Rooster felt a pang of guilt wash over him as he listened to her, knowing that he had played a part in their shared struggles. 

"I know, Bea," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I wish I could give you the break we deserve, but...I just don't know how."

Beatrice leaned back slightly, meeting Rooster's gaze with a sad smile. "It's not your fault, Roos," she assured him, her voice gentle but firm. "We'll find a way to get through it, just like we always do."

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said softly, his voice filled with awe. "Even when everything seems impossible, you still find a way to keep going. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Beatrice's cheeks flushed with warmth at Rooster's words, her heart fluttering with affection. She leaned into his touch, savoring the closeness they shared as she looked into his eyes.

"We're a team, Roos," she replied, her voice steady with determination. “It is stressful but…we’ll be okay.”

Rooster felt a surge of pride swell within him at Beatrice's words, his love for her deepening with each passing moment. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"I love you, Bea," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "More than anything in this world."

"I love you too, Roos," Beatrice whispered back, her voice barely above a whisper. "...I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Rooster shook his head, his grip tightening around Beatrice as he held her close. "Don't apologize, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "You can wake me up any time."

Beatrice nestled into Rooster's embrace, feeling a sense of comfort wash over her at his words. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully relax in the warmth of his arms, the weight of their worries momentarily lifted from her shoulders.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's embrace, finding solace in the simple act of being together. Eventually, Rooster broke the silence, his voice gentle as he spoke. “Gorgeous.”

‘Hm?”

“As much as I love our couch, maybe we could go back to bed, hm?” he smiles, “Because it’s bigger and better?”

Rooster's suggestion brought a small smile to Beatrice's lips as she looked up at him. "That sounds like a wonderful idea," she agreed softly, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. "Our bed does sound more comfortable."

With a shared nod, Rooster helped Beatrice to her feet, his arms wrapping around her waist as he guided her towards the bedroom. They moved slowly, savoring the intimacy of the moment as they made their way through the dimly lit hallway.

As they entered the bedroom, Beatrice shuffled towards the bed, slipping under the covers with Rooster close behind her. They settled into their usual positions, finding comfort in the familiar warmth of each other's embrace.

Rooster wrapped his arms around Beatrice, pulling her close as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry you're feeling stressed, Bea," he murmured, his voice filled with concern. "But I promise, we'll get through this together."

Beatrice smiled up at Rooster, her heart swelling with gratitude for his unwavering love and support. She reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek as she met his gaze. “I know…I just want your ceremony this saturday to go well…”

“It will go well.”

She smiles more, “...it will…” she yawns quietly “At least…well, we’ll sleep well tonight,right?”

Rooster's arms tightened around Beatrice, offering her a sense of security and comfort as they settled into bed together. He pressed another tender kiss to her forehead before shifting slightly to make them both more comfortable.

"Absolutely, gorgeous," he replied softly, his voice a soothing murmur in the quiet of their bedroom. "We'll sleep like babies tonight."

“More than our own babies?”

He chuckles, ‘More than our own babies.”

Beatrice nestled into Rooster's embrace, feeling the weight of her worries begin to lift as she relaxed into the warmth of their shared bed. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be enveloped by the tranquility of the moment.

As they lay together in the darkness, the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of their breathing. Beatrice listened to the sound, finding a sense of peace in the simple act of being with Rooster.

Rooster shifted beside her, his warmth seeping into her bones as he pulled her closer. "I'm glad you're here with me, Bea," he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper in the stillness of the night.

Beatrice smiled with her eyes closed. "I'm glad too, Roos," she replied softly, her voice filled with affection. "You are…my favorite person.” she whispers, “In the whole wide world.”

Oh his poor heart couldn’t take how cute his wife was while sleepy.

"You're my favorite person too, Bea," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "I love you more than anything."

Beatrice smiled, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she snuggled closer to Rooster. She felt a sense of contentment wash over her, knowing that she was safe and loved in his embrace. With a contented smile, she allowed herself to drift off into a peaceful slumber, her worries melting away in the warmth of their love.

He glanced down at Beatrice, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful like this, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of love for her.

With a gentle touch, Rooster brushed a stray strand of hair away from Beatrice's face, his fingers lingering against her soft skin. He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, savoring the sweetness of the moment as he whispered words of love and affection into her ear.

“We’ll be okay,gorgeous.” he whispers against her skin, then inhales the lavender clinging to her hair, “...we’ll be okay.”

They just had to figure out who this John was.

#im happy yall are still here #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[birgittesilverbae]

more tiny!dads for @princington

//

It's bullshit, plain and simple. Shannon had promised to be here with Lilith while Beatrice was– to be here with her to coach her, but then she'd gotten a call and left in a rush with barely a word of apology and now Lilith is faced with a heavy bag she doesn't know how to punch properly and–

She's not sure what it is that draws her attention. Whether she feels the slight change to the light, a dip in the crossbreeze coming in through the door that Shannon had left propped open with a dumbbell. If she actually sensed the weight of eyes on her back. She growls, low and irritated, and gives the bag a shin strike before turning towards the door.

Beatrice is leaning against the doorframe in that stupid sweater pulled on over that stupid button up she's done up right under her chin. Her hair, falling loose around her shoulders, draws Lilith's attention, her fingers itching to brush back the strand that's slipped forward to curl across Beatrice's cheek. 

"Beatrice?" Lilith asks, stupidly.

The corner of Beatrice's mouth quirks up in a half smile.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she adds, getting a perverse satisfaction at the way the bite in her voice makes Beatrice rock back onto her heels, at the way the smile slips from her lips. "I thought you were on that stupid date."

"No, I…" Beatrice swallows, and Lilith's gaze drops of its own accord to follow the bob of her throat. "I came back early," she continues, as if that isn't made clear by her presence. "Shannon dropped me off here."

It's not like Beatrice to state the obvious in this way, not unless she's been somehow incapacitated, whether by injury or by– 

Lilith doesn't make a conscious decision to move, just finds herself on the other side of the gym, one hand on Beatrice's waist, the other cupping her cheek as she examines her for signs of hurt. "What? Why? Did Holly do anything? I'll–"

Beatrice's smile returns, more full this time. She reaches up, her fingers fitting securely around Lilith's wrist, building a cage around the dips and curves of her carpal bones. Not that Lilith has any desire to pull her hand away from the softness of Beatrice's skin. "No, Lil, nothing like that. Holly was the one who told me to go." She pauses, her eyes flitting hummingbird-fast across Lilith's face, searching for something Lilith can't even begin to imagine. She gives the slightest nod, an affirmation that she's found whatever it is that she's looking for. "To you."

Lilith's eyes drift shut as she tries to work out exactly what the fuck that is supposed to mean. "What," she says finally, like an idiot, too lost in the warmth of Beatrice's cheek against her hand to come anywhere near a reasonable explanation.

She can feel Beatrice's smile in the movement of the muscles beneath her palm. "She said it felt like she was third-wheeling a married couple, the way all I talked about was you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Beatrice confirms. There's a moment of silence, Lilith's brain changing gears with  agonising slowness as she tries to catch up to whatever it is Beatrice finds so clear. But then Beatrice's cheek goes lax beneath her touch and she scoffs. "I mean, it was absurd, really–"

Lilith reaches the conclusion all at once, and it's so obvious, now, and Shannon must have been laughing at them for months. She opens her eyes, meets Beatrice's gaze, which has gone shuttered in the intervening moments. "Beatrice..." Her hand brackets the curve of Beatrice's waist, fingers gripping tight when Beatrice moves to step back, to put a distance between them that Lilith never wants to have to experience again, not now that she finally, finally understands where all the sly comments and confused looks have been coming from. "If you don't want me to kiss you, this is–"

"But I do." Beatrice's hand grasps at Lilith's upper arm, tugs her closer until they're pressed flush against one another. "Want you to, I mean. I do want you to."

All those stories about fireworks and lightning bolts and whatever else are so dumb. Lilith kisses Beatrice and it's not a revelation, it's not life-changing, it's not anything of the sort. Not driven by some hormone-infused state, not the adrenaline of pushing a fencing opponent up against the locker room wall and capturing her mouth. She kisses Beatrice and it just feels… right. Inevitable.

When Lilith opens her eyes again, Beatrice's forehead resting against hers, she watches dumbfounded as Beatrice's eyelids flutter, blue-veined and fragile in a way the rest of Beatrice will never be. Beatrice turns her head slightly so she can kiss the heel of Lilith's palm, and Lilith strokes her thumb along the arch of Beatrice's cheekbone. "Hey," she whispers, aching and wanting.

"Hey," Beatrice echoes like the little asshole she is, and it's all Lilith can do to stop herself from kissing the stupid smirk off her mouth. Except, she doesn't have to stop herself now, does she? So she dips in again, and Beatrice rises up to meet her, and when their mouths meet again it feels like coming home.

#fic: dads #beatrice x lilith #myfic #mywn #warrior nun #sister beatrice #sister lilith #give shannon five minutes before she's wailing on the horn to get them to knock it off #lilith: everything is STUPID and all these feelings are PLATONIC

[possibilistfanfiction]

if you want, write a chill prompt, like an evening at the beach or something

[had some Big Feelings today lol so this is like. small & soft, also like post top-surgery for butch bea — if that's not in ur vision for her, just skip it. if it is, here's a little something!]

//

'please.'

'ava,' bea says, your, like, third favorite way she says your name, because she's acting annoyed but is clearly very, very fond of you. (the first is the way she says your name when you wake up, like it's a miracle you're there every morning. the second is the way she says your name when you're touching her reverently, a request. both are, you think, a prayer.)

'i swear,' you whine, 'even just for a little bit.'

she sighs, looks out over one of the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen. every time you come out to the cliffs in palos verdes you're kind of breathless; you're not new to wonder, not this many years later, but you drink it in every time. 'it's cold, ava.'

to be fair, it is. 'fine.'

you do your best to pout, though, and korra settles down by your side after beatrice had finished throwing the ball for her. there aren't many gulls out tonight, which makes your picnic much more peaceful than normal, and the blanket beneath you is worn and loved, with rough, thick woven lines. bea sits down next to you and rolls her eyes, bathed in gentle orange and fading pink, and then says, 'for, like, thirty seconds, ava, i swear.'

'swear to god?'

her sign is long-suffering and you grin. she doesn't acknowledge your comment with a real response, but she does lift her hoodie and the t-shirt underneath it over her head and you're delighted: that she feels herself, that she's beautiful, that, finally, after all these years, she lets you love her so fully. the cool air makes her smooth skin erupt in goosebumps. you feel your grin soften at the small smile that pops up on her face.

'your scars are healing so well,' you tell her, tracing the relatively fresh lines that stretch across her flat chest, two months old and beautiful, a measure of what had to come first, and care, and love.

her smile grows in the light glinting off the waves and you take her running hat off, put it on backward, and she laughs. you kiss her square on the mouth and feel it down your spine, in the palms of your hands — all over.

'now, flex your abs before you put your hoodie back on.'

'ava.'

you can't stop your laugh, and after a beat she joins in, just as she always does. you hand her her t-shirt and her hoodie and watch her pause, take a breath in that fills her chest, and let it out — a prayer. the sunset bathes the waves and her scars gold.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡 #i will live & die in sunsets at pv i guess lol #also ava is just. the best. gotta write an ode to ava tomorrow lol

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley and the Circle of Khanna

Chapter 17: Telling the Truth

A/N: Artemis finally speaks out, and the statue curse returns. Warnings: discussion surrounding death, grief, loss, war, trauma, and guilt.

Thankfully, Artemis was not the only one to emerge the morning after the full moon unscathed: Beatrice Haywood was discharged from the Hospital Wing the following day having shown no signs of lycanthropy whatsoever, much to the relief of everybody, particularly Penny Haywood and Chiara Lobosca. After the night in the forest, Artemis and Chiara had spoken at length, and Chiara had finally told Artemis the truth. 

Chiara had been a werewolf since before she even started Hogwarts; that was the real reason she had her own room, and the real reason why she missed lessons so frequently. It was also true that she had, selflessly and somewhat irresponsibly, been giving her Wolfsbane potions to Mr Lupin for several months. 

She had told the whole sorry tale to Artemis with a fearful look in her eyes, as if she were expecting Artemis to resent her or reject her, but instead, Artemis couldn’t help but admire her for her bravery, her resilience, or her kindness. If anything, she only wished that she had attempted to befriend Chiara sooner. 

As for Chiara’s werewolf friend, it was not until a week later, whilst posting letters to Bill Weasley and her Great-Aunt Tina in Hogsmeade, that Artemis next encountered Mr Lupin, pale and drawn as he stood outside the Owl Post Office. After a brief moment of consideration, she decided to greet him.

“It’s you,” he said, frowning at her. 

She blinked back at him. “Yeah.”

“It’s good to see you… alive,” said Lupin, with a pointed look that did not match his soft voice and wearied face. Artemis pursed her lips. “You know, that was a very stupid thing you did last weekend. You’re lucky that you weren’t killed.”

“I know,” Artemis said truthfully. “I know that now. Thank you for trying to save me.”

“Not that I helped much.”

“But you tried, at least.”

“Of course. Well, you’re welcome,” Lupin paused for a moment. “You know, I don’t think I ever asked your name.”

“It’s Artemis. Artemis Hexley.”

At the mention of her name, Lupin’s eyebrows twitched upwards, the way all adults’ eyebrows did around her. She braced herself, ready for the inevitable comments about her brother’s disappearance or her mother’s many talents. But Lupin mentioned neither.

“I heard about your friend,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Artemis swallowed and nodded her head. “Right. Thanks.”

“Now it makes sense.”

“What does?”

“What you did, that night,” Lupin gave a smile that was somehow wry and sad, all at once. “How much you cared about protecting your friend. How little you cared about protecting yourself.” 

His eyes drifted out across the busy cobbled street, to a wooden stall selling spring flowers. Artemis looked from the flowers back to his eyes. They were a greyish sort of green in colour, and filled with a weariness that might have been mistaken for tiredness.

“You lost a friend, too,” she said, frowning at him. “Didn’t you?”

“I lost several. That’s what happens when there is a war.”

“How did they… Actually, no. You don’t have to-”

“They were murdered,” Lupin told her. “We were all betrayed by someone we thought we could trust.” He paused, and added, “Not unlike  your own friend, from the rumours I’ve heard.”

“Did you ever feel guilty afterwards?” Artemis asked, before realising how rude the question was. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… It’s just that I… You probably don’t want to talk about this.”

“It’s okay, Artemis. I don’t mind talking about this. I actually like talking about them, remembering them. It helps, or it does sometimes,” he smiled again. “And yes, I felt guilty. I also felt angry, sad, scared, tired, lost, alone. Much like you do now, I expect.”

“How long does it take for it all to stop?”

“Stop?”

“Yeah. When does all that hurting go away?”

Lupin frowned and hesitated before asking her: “Would you prefer me to tell you the truth, or what you’d like to hear?”

“I’d like to hear what’s true,” Artemis told him, and he sighed deeply.

“It doesn’t,” he said simply.

“What, never?”

“Not really, no,” Lupin rolled up on of his sleeves, revealing a large cut on his forearm, which had a ring of bruising around it. “Courtesy of Miss Lobosca on Monday evening,” he explained, his lips twitching slightly. “Now, look here. This was painful, when I realised I’d been cut. It was worse when the bruising developed. It will get less sore once the bruises get better and the cut starts to heal, but sometimes it will get knocked and the cut will open up again. Eventually, the wound will close over and the pain will fade to the point I don’t notice it, but I expect it will leave a scar, and my arm won’t ever quite look the same again.”

“No,” Artemis watched as Mr Lupin rolled down his sleeve. “So, I won’t ever be able to go back to how I was before?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“But if I can’t go back, then…”

“You’ll just go on.” Lupin’s mouth twitched again, and he added with a knowing look, “Unless, of course, you go chasing off after werewolves in dark forests.”

In spite of everything, Artemis found herself smiling.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that again,” she told him. “But what will you do?”

“I will keep going on as well.”

“Yeah, but… Chiara can’t keep giving you her potions, can she?”

“No, that is why I’m here. To thank her and say goodbye,” Lupin put his hands into his pockets. “Wolfsbane potion is difficult to make, and the ingredients hard to source. It was very noble of her to give me hers, but it was also incredibly dangerous. I cannot allow her to continue to do so. And if I am unable to source the potion here, I can’t stay, not when I am a risk to others.”

“Maybe we can still help,” Artemis said. Lupin opened his mouth to protest, but she continued, not allowing him to interrupt her. “My friend Jae is brilliant at sourcing anything. He could definitely get you ingredients. He would probably offer to make the potion, too, but I wouldn’t trust his potions. But if you had the ingredients at least you could find someone to make the potion for you, if you can’t do it yourself.”

Lupin bowed his head. “I will consider it, thank you.” He stepped away as if to leave, but stopped, frowning deeply. “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“How did you manage to get through the night unharmed? There was hardly a scratch on you.”

“Oh,” Artemis bit her lip. “Do you promise to keep it a secret?”

“I am good at keeping those.”

“Of course you are. Well, the truth is, I’m an unregistered Animagus,” Artemis told Lupin, and his eyes widened slightly with a look of recognition. “I changed into my Animagus form, and Chiara didn’t want to hurt me anymore. It was like she became more human somehow, once I was an animal, too. I know that sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t.”

Artemis and Mr Lupin we both quiet for a few moments, as he looked at her with eyes that were filled with a bittersweet emotion that might have been sorrow or happiness, Artemis couldn’t tell which.

“Sorry,” he said, eventually. “I just remembered something that I’d forgotten.”

“Something to do with your friends, or did you leave a window open?”

Lupin laughed. “My friends.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Like I said, it’s good to remember them. Find ways for them to still be with me, to carry them with me.”

“It’s hard, though,” said Artemis.

“It is, but it’s worth it,” Lupin told her, and she smiled. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to get on. It was a pleasure to talk to you, Miss Hexley.”

“And to you, Mr Lupin.”

Artemis watched Lupin walk away from her. He paused by the flower stall to admire a bunch of long-stemmed white flowers before walking away up the cobbles, his posture a little less hunched than it had been before. 

She made her journey back down the main street of Hogsmeade village, but instead of stopping at the Three Broomsticks where she knew her friends would be, she went into Tomes and Scrolls bookshop instead, running her hands along the leather-bound spines. She bought a single book and returned to the castle, pausing as she noticed a group of black winged horses grazing at the edge of the forest. 

She had tried her hardest to avoid the Thestrals ever since she had been able to see them, but now that she was looking at them properly, she couldn’t help but admire the awkwardly graceful way they moved. They looked gentle, in spite of everything that they stood for, and somehow, watching them made her feel at peace, and less alone in her grief. Or maybe it had been talking to someone - actually talking to them and telling them a part of her story  - that had done that for her. 

Artemis thought about it for a little while, and by the time the Thestrals stopped grazing and returned to the shelter of the trees, she had made her decision. She returned to the castle, and went looking for Merula and Ben. After all, it was their story to tell as well as hers.

“I don’t know why it’s taken you this long,” Merula drawled, as she, Artemis and Ben made their way to the lakeshore, where they had arranged to meet a group of their friends. “I told you weeks ago that it was time to start getting on with breaking this curse.”

“That’s not what this is about, Merula,” Artemis told her, already having to try to not lose her temper. 

“What is it about then?”

“It’s about Rowan.”

“Avenging her?”

“No,” Artemis sighed crossly and looked at Ben. “Can you explain it to her, please?”

“It’s not about avenging Rowan’s death, Merula,” said Ben. “It’s about letting our friends know the truth.”

“Exactly.”

“So they can protect themselves against R.”

“Wait, what?” Artemis frowned at Ben. “No, this isn’t about any of that, it’s just-”

“But you do want them to be protected, don’t you?” Ben asked her.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Because they’ll need that once we start working to break this curse.”

“Thank Merlin one of you has got some sense,” muttered Merula.

“No,” Artemis turned around and stood in front of them, blocking their path. “No, that is not what we are here for. We are not here for the curses, or for Rakepick, or for the rest of R. We are here for Rowan. Just for Rowan. Because she… Because she died. And the people who cared about her deserve to know how. And she deserves them to know, too. Okay?”

Both Ben and Merula were quiet for a few moments, before Ben nodded his head sadly and Merula sighed.

“Whatever,” she said with a shrug. “I still think that you should be asking if they want to help break the curses or kill Rakepick-”

“Or at least learn some self-defence,” Ben chipped in.

“Yeah, or that. Maybe.”

“Tough,” said Artemis, crossing her arms across her chest and fixing Merula with a hard stare. She was expecting Merula to argue more, but instead, Merula asked her:

“Are you scared?”

“Of what?”

“That once you tell everyone what happened, they’ll think Rowan’s death was all your fault and not want to speak to you again.”

Artemis swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I am scared of that, actually.”

“I don’t see why,” Ben murmured. “You weren’t the one Rakepick was trying to hit with that curse. If they’re going to blame anyone, it’ll be me.”

“You weren’t the one who got involved with all this Cursed Vaults business, Ben.”

“I know, but-”

“And at least if they know the truth, they can decide for themselves what they want. Even if they decide not to be our friends, at least we’ve given them the choice to do that. They deserve that much,” Artemis said, as much to herself as to Ben and Merula. Her resolve was almost cracking and her stomach churning now, as they reached the door of the boathouse and she laid her hand on the handle. “Ready?”

Merula and Ben had barely a chance to nod their heads in reply before Artemis opened the door. Inside the boathouse, several familiar faces - more than she had been expecting - were dotted around, many of her friends and acquaintances having gathered to hear what she had to tell them.

Penny and Tonks were there, of course, and so were Chiara, Alanza, and - to Artemis’ distaste - Diego Caplan. Charlie had Jae with him as well as Barnaby and Liz Tuttle, and Merula’s friend Ismelda was sitting quietly in the corner. Tulip and Andre had been accompanied by Badeea Ali, and even Talbott Winger, who never usually socialised with larger groups of people, had come along with them.

“Um, thanks for coming here, everyone,” Artemis said, perching on top of a overturned wooden boat facing the others, one foot tapping against the side of its hull against her will. “I, um… Well, we know that there’s been a lot of rumours going around about how Rowan died because of that article Rita Skeeter wrote, and… we wanted to let people - all of you, I mean - know what happened. What actually happened. Because…” she sighed, and looked across at Merula and Ben before saying, “Well, because we know the truth, and we think that you deserve to know the truth as well.”

“How?”  Ismelda Murk’s sharp voice echoed across the boathouse from the opposite corner. “How do you know the truth?”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity, broken by Merula’s quiet murmur:

“Because we were there.”

Artemis had thought that the silence that had preceded Merula’s words had been profound, but it was nothing in comparison to the one that followed it. 

“It all started a long time ago,” Artemis said, unable to tolerate the tense atmosphere any longer. “In our first year, Merula and I found the teachers in a corridor on the fifth floor talking about the Cursed Vaults. Rowan, Ben, and I all went searching to see what they had found, and it was a room full of Cursed Ice - the same ice that Ben got trapped in and took over the castle in our second year.

“When Ben was missing because of the ice, Rowan and I tried to find him. We found a letter in a Vanishing cabinet that goes to Borgin and Burke’s, and it gave us a load of instructions. The letter was signed from R, and we later learned that R is the name of a group of dark witches and wizards - the Cabal, they call themselves - who want to open the Cursed Vaults themselves.”

“Why?” Badeea asked, her brown eyes wide. “Why do they want to open the Vaults?”

“They say that the last Vault contains something really powerful - we don’t know what. A weapon or something, maybe. Whatever it is, they want it,” Artemis shrugged. “When Rakepick first came to the school, I started getting threats from R, from the cabal. Rakepick said that she knew them, that they hated her, too. I even found a letter threatening her that was signed by R. So, I figured that she was telling the truth, that she was on the same side as me. As us.”

“But she wasn’t.”

“No. She made it up. She wrote the letter to herself, and pretended to save me from the threats that she created, all so I would trust her and work with her, because she wanted me to help her open the Vaults. Apparently, she needed me or my brother to do it, but Jacob was trapped inside one of the Vaults at the time, so she had to use me. And she did. As soon as the Vault was opened last year, she told us how she had betrayed us, and she tried to kill me. That’s why the Aurors have been looking for her. Because she is a member of R, and-”

“And a psychopath,” said Tonks, and a few of the others half-chuckled. Even Artemis almost smiled.

“Yeah. That too,” she said. “But she’s also clever. Very clever. She managed to convince Dumbledore that she was on the right side, and Jacob too. When I told him that Rakepick tried to kill me, he said that she had gotten the wrong idea, that she had made a mistake and he needed to talk to her to explain why she was wrong.”

“How can trying to kill someone not be wrong?”

“She said that there needed to be a sacrifice for the Vaults to open. Jacob said that there was another way. I don’t know what that way is, or what he meant, because…” Artemis took a deep, shaky breath. “He wrote me a letter. He wanted to meet me to tell me about it. It was supposed to be a secret, in case Rakepick found out, and because what he wanted to tell me was really dangerous, but he said I should bring someone with me, just in case. Ben and Merula were already involved - they were there when Rakepick betrayed us, so Rakepick knew that they knew already - so they came with me. We went to the forest, where Jacob had asked us to meet him, and…”

“There was a dementor,” said Ben, as Artemis’ voice tailed off. “Artemis tried to see it off, but it was too powerful. It tried to attack her, but she was saved by a Patronus.”

“Jacob’s Patronus?” asked Penny, her eyes wide and already tear-filled. Artemis shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Not Jacob’s. It was hers. Rakepick’s. She must have intercepted the message, or maybe she was the one that sent it. Either way, somehow she knew we were going, because she was there with us. She saw off the Dementor, but then she started trying to curse us. Ben and Merula, they tried to fight back - they really tried, it wasn’t their fault at all, what happened next. It’s just that Rakepick, she… Well, Merula was knocked down, and then…

“Ben was being really brave,” Artemis continued. She had closed her eyes, unable to look at her friends as she told them the story. “He was trying really hard to protect us, but Rakepick was too powerful. She cast the… the Killing Curse. She aimed it right at Ben. It looked like he was going to get hit, but then… Rowan, she… she jumped out, and the curse… It hit her instead. And she died, just like that.”

No one spoke. Artemis wasn’t even sure that anyone was still in the room listening to her, or whether they had already left, not wanting any more to do with her. But when she opened her eyes, everyone was still in front of her, though their faces were blurry and out of focus through her tears.

“We didn’t know she was there until she jumped out. She must have followed us, or something. I didn’t ask her to be there, I didn’t even tell her that we were going to be there. I didn’t want her to come, because I wanted to keep her safe. That was why I didn’t tell her, or you - any of you - because I wanted everyone to be safe, but… but not telling Rowan didn’t keep her safe, and not telling you won’t keep you safe, either,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “So you might as well know, because you deserve to know the truth, and Rowan deserves you to know it, too. You need to know what happened to her, and how it was all my fault.”

She paused, and waited for her friends to judge and condemn her, but none of them did. 

“I don’t understand,” said Barnaby Lee, the first to say anything at all. His eyebrows were knitted together from confusion. “How is this all your fault?”

“Because of the Cursed Vaults, and the letter, and the forest. If it wasn’t for me looking for the Vaults and going to the forest that night, Rakepick wouldn’t have attacked us, and Rowan wouldn’t have followed us there.”

“But you said that you didn’t know that Rakepick would be there, or Rowan, either. So how could it be your fault?”

There wasn’t anything other than innocent curiosity in Barnaby’s green eyes. He was not saying this to reassure her, Artemis could tell. He was saying it because he genuinely did not understand how Artemis was responsible.

She frowned. “Well, because… Because…”

“Barnaby’s right,” said Tonks. “You can’t blame yourself for what Rakepick did. Like you said, you didn’t know.”

“But-”

“Tonks and I saw Rowan leaving that evening,” Penny said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “She said that she was going to the library to make extra notes for Corey. It was only after she left that we remembered that the library had closed early because of the statue curse. We could have stopped her.”

“Yeah,” Tonks nodded. “If you’re going to blame yourself, then you’ll have to blame us, too.”

“And me,” said Ben. “If I had never got stuck in that ice, you an Rowan would never have found that first note from R. And if I’d fought Rakepick harder that night…”

“Or if I had fought her harder,” Merula added. “Between us, we might have been able to take down Rakepick. But we didn’t. It’s our fault, just as much as it is yours.”

The voices of Artemis’ friends overlapped and echoed as each of them voiced a regret, something that they could have done differently to prevent Rowan’s death. Charlie wished that he had been less focussed on his plan to leave for Romania and more focussed on the people around him. Jae regretted ever telling Artemis how the vanishing cabinet could be used to smuggle supplies or send messages in and out of the school. Tulip wanted to go back and tell Dumbledore how she had suspected Rakepick from the start; Barnaby would have liked to have gone to the Buried Vault and fought Rakepick with Artemis and her friends; and Andre couldn’t help but wonder whether he should have put more effort into helping Rowan dress for her Valentine’s Day study date with Corey Hayden the year before, in case having a boyfriend would have stopped her from wanting to go out into the forest chasing after Artemis.

“See?” Chiara smiled sadly, having just informed the group that she regretted not having spent more time with Rowan when she was alive, instead of keeping herself isolated in her little private dormitory so often. “We all could have done things differently and maybe if we had, Rowan would still be here. Maybe she wouldn’t. Something else might have happened to her. We shouldn’t blame ourselves. It’s no one’s fault.”

Artemis blinked back tears. “I guess not.”

“But it is someone’s fault,” said Alanza, frowning deeply. “It is Madam Rakepick’s fault, no? She is the one who killed your friend. It is her fault.”

“Yeah, and she’s still missing. We should be doing something to help find her and catch her!”

“Or at least we should be learning to protect ourselves, in case she comes back.”

“What about the Cursed Vaults, though? If that’s what this R group wants, we should be stopping them, shouldn’t we?”

“We should at least be trying to break the statue curse.”

Artemis had heard enough. This wasn’t what she had wanted at all. She had wanted her friends to know about Rowan’s death, but not to start lurching towards the exact same thing that had been the cause of her death in the first place.

“No,” she said, loudly and firmly. “No. We are not going after Rakepick, or the Cabal. We are not breaking curses or going back to the Cursed Vaults. Don’t you understand? It was getting involved in the Cursed Vaults that drew Rakepick here, that got Rowan killed. We need to leave the Vaults alone now, because if we don’t… Well, it’s dangerous and it’s disrespectful to Rowan.”

Artemis clenched her jaw and looked stubbornly at her friends as they shared doubtful looks.

“I disagree, actually,” said Penny. “I at least think that we should practise some self defence, just in case.”

“Me too,” Tonks nodded. “And I disagree about the Cursed Vaults, too. I get that Rowan died because of them, yeah, but if we stand by and let Rakepick and R get there first… Well, won’t that just mean that she died for nothing? At least if we finish what we started, it means that her death won’t have been in vain.”

There were a couple of murmurs of assent and nodding heads. Artemis sighed, and opened her mouth ready to protest, but before she could say anything, the door flew open, and a small boy with bronze-coloured hair and Hufflepuff robes ran into the boathouse, pink-cheeked and out of breath, his eyes wide with panic.

“What’s wrong, Cedric?” Artemis asked him.

“Professor Sprout sent me. She  wanted me to find Chiara.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“It’s the statue curse,” said Cedric, trembling a little. “There’s been more victims.”

“Who?”

“One of the third years, and a fifth year. And…”

“And?”

Cedric bit his bottom lip before telling them: 

“And Madam Pomfrey.”

All of the sixth years fell quiet, and Artemis swallowed, hard. In all her years at Hogwarts, all her years dealing with the Cursed Vaults, she had never known the curse to affect any of the adults at school. If even the staff weren’t safe any more, who was? 

The answer to that was simple. No one was safe, and no one would be until the cure was broken, and the riddle of the Cursed Vaults solved once and for all. 

She felt almost a dozen pairs of expectant eyes settle on her, and as Cedric left with Chiara for the Hospital Wing, she spoke up once more.

“I meant it, what I said,” she told her friends. “I didn’t tell you about Rowan to make you want to help me, or to make you think that we should all go back and break these curses.”

Charlie smiled wryly and raised a single red eyebrow at her. “But?”

“But…” Artemis frowned, looking around at her friends. “Is that really what you all want?”

“Show of hands?” Merula said, rolling her eyes and putting her hand in the air. 

One by one, each of the group raised their hands, giving Artemis their clear, unanimous answer. She breathed deeply before nodding her head.

“Fine. Then let’s do it.”

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #chiara lobosca #beatrice haywood #remus lupin #penny haywood #nymphadora tonks #ben copper #merula snyde #charlie weasley #alanza alves #jae kim #barnaby lee #liz tuttle #ismelda murk #diego caplan #andre egwu #tulip kasaru #badeea ali #talbott winger

[rurpleplaysmuttingtonac]

Sophie had been reading quietly in the lounge across the hall and had overheard Ricky's accusations.

His voice and Beatrice's cold retort, had carried across the manor whilst it was quiet. Beside Lucy and Martin outside, the others were upstairs asleep, so Sophie had been the only (unintentional) eavesdropper.

Stunned and hurt on Beatrice's part, she remained quiet, conflicted as to if she should confront Ricky or to speak to Beatrice about it.

She liked Beatrice and saw her as an older sister, and hoped she wasn't being too forward in thinking that. She didn't know Ricky at all and he'd not exactly made it easier for any of them to speak to him. The only one he spoke to was Benedict and occasionally Lucy.

The next morning she and Beatrice were the first ones downstairs. Beatrice had motioned to her quietly as she entered, giggling that she'd found a secret stash of chocolates.

"Are they safe?" Sophie whispered, keen for her voice not to carry upstairs.

Beatrice shrugged, indifferent "I've eaten two before you walked in and I know what a spiked drink tastes like."

This, like some other offhand comments Beatrice made sometimes, caused Sophie to look up in alarm and confusion.

Beatrice couldn't help her snort of laughter "Don't worry Soph, the chocolate is clear."

Sophie decided to trust her and took a bite. "Mhmm, this is good!"

"Tastes even better when you know they're forbidden" Beatrice said with a quiet cackle as she sat down at the table with her.

There was a brief silence in which Sophie's thoughts swung around to what Ricky had accused Beatrice of the day before.

"What's up Soph?" Beatrice asked as she took a bite. "You look like you have the weight of the whole world on your shoulders."

Sophie thought for another moment before taking a deep breath for courage and blurted out "I don't think you're using Benedict. I think you really like him."

There was a stunned silence from Beatrice before she swallowed. "Huh?"

"I was in the lounge when Ricky had a go at you yesterday" Sophie said, looking down at her plate and paused in eating, feeling her stomach coil uncomfortably. "I...I think he was out of order suggesting you that were...well, you know."

Another pause.

"I know I don't say much" Sophie said, feeling the need to explain her viewpoint. "But because I'm quiet, people often overlook me, forgetting I'm in a room sometimes."

"Uh huh" Beatrice said slowly, wondering where she was going with this.

"You and Benedict always take the time to notice my presence, and even if I'm in no mood to talk, you both make me feel welcome in our misfit group. Nigel's in the same position as me and he's noticed the same about you both. You've both effectively become the parents of the group, and I say that in a good way."

Beatrice didn't realise she was smiling until she saw Sophie relax.

"We're all in a strange situation" Sophie continued with more confidence. "Benedict is being told to do what he's doing, but he's doing the best he can to make us...happy for want of a better word. But I see the way he looks at you, and it's very sweet. He does think the world of you, and you care for him too."

Beatrice couldn't help herself "What do you think about me?"

"I see you as a big sister" Sophie confessed, blushing a little.

Beatrice grinned "Well you feel like a little sis to me to Soph. You can call me Bea if you want. Only my close friends and family call me that. But...would you say I'm taking advantage of him? I...to be honest, I'm not used to relationships, or something more than a quick fling."

Sophie's heart was full of joy hearing Beatrice return her sisterly feelings. It made her feel like she had another ally in this place and that would make her less miserable on her mediocre days.

"You'll figure it out" Sophie reassured her. "But I'd suggest you tell him that, as that'll help him understand that whilst we're all in here, there's a complexity to any relationships we forge here."

After her talk in the morning with Beatrice, Benedict came over to her with just as kind expression as he always gave her. "Morning Sophie. How're you?"

Sophie's good conscience thought back to the secret chocolates she and Beatrice had eaten that morning. She wondered if she was about to be told off. "I'm good. Yourself?"

He looked around to check that nobody else was overhearing them before he lowered his voice and said "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, puzzled.

"Don't tell her this, but I heard you reassuring Beatrice this morning" Benedict admitted. "I know that we're...sort of dating but I'm glad she has someone to speak to besides me. I've worried that I'd inadvertently alienated her from the rest of the group."

"Oh" Sophie said as she processed his words and then she smiled. "So you heard me saying that you were like a fatherly figure to me?"

"Good thing we're not dating then, isn't it?" he chuckled before winking at her.

Her own laughter surprised her "Benedict!"

"Now you sound like my mother!" he chortled. "But no, seriously, if you want me to see you as a daughterly figure, I already do. Anyone messes with you, you tell me and I'll make them see reason."

She smiled, trying very hard not to burst into tears at his sincere protective words. "Thank you Benedict, that's very kind."

There was a pause.

"But I'm not calling you Daddy!"

She joined in with his laughter as they walked back inside.

"Fucking hell, I'm starving!" Ricky groaned as he clutched at his stomach.

"That's what happens when you skip two meals to keep working out" Benedict muttered under his breath as he packed away the latest delivery from the grocery store. He was amused by how much food this lot went through. He'd only done an order the day before and now he was stocking the fridge up again.

Benedict had not heard the entire conversation between Beatrice and Sophie but he'd heard enough to know he shouldn't trust Ricky much.

He had more than just his his sister's name on the man, and Benedict could threaten Ricky again, but this time, it would be a threat, not a warning.

I'm not quite sure how hungry I'd be to start digging through the bin though, he thought as he set out some cheese and crackers.

"Ricky, wash your hands and come eat this. No, put the butter wrapper down right now! Bloody hell, this must be what having kids is like!"

#Muttington AC #Asylum Challenge #TS2 #Benedict Jones #Beatrice Ramirez #Sophie Edwards #Ricky Brown #Those two conversations are so wholesome for me #I was so happy after I wrote this #Part One

[cramajoki]

The Town that was One Block Long - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Witchcraft

“I’m sorry, Witchcraft?” The woman in black asked. 

“That’s right. There’s a witch in this town doing something to these people. I came to investigate.” Charlotte explained. At this time I could get more of a good look at her. Her eyes were green as well, shining in the light like mine.

“Look, I know there’s a lot of weird things going on today, but Witchcraft doesn’t seem--”

“Erwecke deinen Geist.” Charlotte looked at the woman in black.

“Wait… I’m…My name… My name is Beatrice. I was… investigating this place due to frequent disappearances in the area.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I spoke up, just watching this all in utter bewilderment. 

“Erwecke deinen Geist means ‘awaken your mind.’ I used a spell on her to free her from her memory loss.” Charlotte explained.

“So you’re a witch, too?” George asked.

“Yep. But I promise you I’m only here to undo what another spell has done. Likely a wild spell that some witch used to go back in time, with some people getting trapped in the whirlpool. Obviously, the effects are different for different people.”

I wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, how do I know this isn’t some elaborate prank or something where everyone’s trying to scare us?”

“Well, one that would be cruel, and two…” Charlotte started to explain before pausing and looking at her hand. Soon she directed it at me to see. In it laid a seed. I wasn’t sure what kind, but it was white and small. Soon it cracked open, releasing a tiny strand of something curled up. It started uncurling itself and becoming brighter, greener. On the end of it a bulb formed, slowly opening to reveal purple petals. “Does that prove it?”

“How…” I was in disbelief. “It’s got to be a magic trick.”

Charlotte sighed. “Well, I don’t have all day to prove myself. You three better stay safe while I go investigate this place.”

“Could you explain that shrivelled up body?” George asked.

“Shut up, George.”

“Wait, shriveled up body?” Charlotte asked.

“Yeah, it was moving and in pain.” George commented.

“Hmm… I’ll need to check that out.” Charlotte thought for a moment. “Where did you see that?”

I pointed up to the overhanging apartment. “That one. Inside, there was a den of rats, molded carpets, and… also a picture of our parents… with different kids.”

“I see…” Charlotte looked up. I’ll check it out while you three stay safe.” Soon, heading off.

The three of us headed over to a restaurant to eat for the day, it had been hours since breakfast by this time. I was still worried about when we’d all be able to leave, but Beatrice insisted on feeding us.

The table we sat at was nice and round, with some triangular grid on like a checkerboard. The center had a picture of a smiling sun and moon on opposite ends. And a goat standing on a hill, though it looked like the sky if you considered the moon to be the sky. On the other side there was a house which was also upside down if you thought the sun was in the sky here. Weird.

“Now look, I can’t explain what’s going on here either.” Beatrice spoke up. “This explanation of witchcraft is ludicrous. It’s impossible… it’s… I’m still going over it in my mind. But…  I can’t think of a better explanation other than magic. I can’t! Why can’t I? What else caused my memory loss, what else… I don’t know…”

“Look, you seem like a nice lady and all, but I can’t be sure you’re not in on this whole prank too… or whatever’s going on.” I insisted. 

“I know… it’s… I don’t know. I came here to investigate some disappearances and here we are asking more questions than before” Beatrice went on, struggling to keep her composure. She did her best to control her breathing, much as I have done. She was trying to pretend to be calm in front of two children so we wouldn’t freak out anymore. 

“Weird things happen sometimes.” I began. “Falling through floors, apartments unlocked, all of that stuff. Sometimes granddaughters look identical to their grandmothers when they were young, I guess. And sometimes like other people… I don’t know.”

“Yeah…” Beatrice didn’t have much to say. “I understand trying to justify it… I don’t get it either,”

I paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. All I can think about was how… “I want to go home.”

#Writing #story #stories #horror

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 5

Alright we're finally at the wedding part. Hope it was worth the wait. The next part is probably also gonna take part at the wedding too.

Trigger warning: confronting abusers, gaslighting, mentions of death, brief mention of child sex abuse

Life with your grandmother and cousins was a neverending war. But this was a battle you intended to win.

Anna was getting married on a beach near the Eastern Shore, about fifty minutes away from Baltimore. The ceremony would take place at the waterfront, while the reception would be held in one of the grand ballrooms of your grandmother’s exclusive country club. This was clearly for a tactical advantage. Your grandmother used the country club as her own personal castle. Throwing obscene amounts of money into events was her favorite intimidation strategy.

The beach was overrun with people. That was her second intimidation strategy. She undoubtedly forced Anna to add the entire country club to her guest list, because half the guests were far too old to run in the same circles as the young couple.

You were relieved to see that none of the guests adhered to the supposed dress code, which revealed itself to be just a last-minute power grab. She just wanted to see you blindly obey her one last time.

Hannibal laced his fingers between yours, reminding you of your one major advantage. You weren't alone anymore.

"That woman in the coral dress," He leaned over and whispered to you. "That is Theresa, yes?"

Your eyes scanned the crowd. Even though her back was to you, you could recognize that aggressive auburn updo anywhere. "That's her."

"And the woman at her side," he continued. "The one that understands that it's rude to wear white to a wedding but did anyway-"

"Yep." You sighed. "That's her."

As if on cue, Theresa turned around and saw you. You could barely make out a flash of excitement on her face before she plastered on her characteristic fake smile. She whispered something to your grandmother. Something too long for a simple utterance of "[F/N] is here". Something that visibly caught your grandmother’s attention. Without so much as excusing herself from whatever conversation she was clearly in the middle of, she and Theresa approached you.

You felt like a baby gazelle dipped in steak sauce in the middle of the serengeti. The lions were closing in on you. You briefly considered causing some kind of distraction, but you knew it was too late. You tightened your grip on Hannibal's hand as your grandmother and cousin stepped into earshot.

"[Y/N]!" Your grandmother exclaimed, her voice jumping to an unnatural register. She pulled you in for a hug, which you weakly returned.

"I didn't think you would make it." Theresa said, her voice full of venom. When she hugged you, you fully expected to break the embrace with a serated kitchen knife sticking out of your back.

"And who is this," Your grandma paused, scanning Hannibal up and down. Her expression was unreadable, which was never a good sign. "Charming gentleman?"

You looked back at Hannibal, wearing your sudden excitement on your face. "Grandma, Theresa. This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, my fiancé."

"So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. [L/N]." Hannibal offered her his hand.

"Oh, it's Ms. [L/N]." Your grandmother corrected. "I threw [F/N]'s grandfather out with the garbage."

You vividly recalled the day you found your grandfather's urn in the trash compactor. Hannibal knew about it too. Six year old [F/N] had nightmares for months.

Theresa's expression was significantly more legible. She offered him the back of her hand while glaring at you from the side of her eye. "Dr. Lecter, it's a pleasure."

"Theresa, yes." Hannibal tucked his hands into his pockets. "[F/N] has told me all about you."

Theresa clutched her wine glass between her talons. Beneath her plastic smile, she was coiled and ready to strike.

"[F/N], how did you meet this fine man?" Your grandma asked, running her hand down his arm.

This was an approach you'd never seen her use, but it didn’t surprise you to see her using it either. Hannibal was only attractive to her because he was yours. Even though you knew this, you still felt a tad possessive of him. You snaked your arm around his and held him close.

He looked down at you lovingly. "She and I have a field of study in common, so it was only a matter of time, really. She's a brilliant conversationalist."

"She gets that from me." Your grandmother, always ready to take credit for anything and everything, said. "So you're a psychologist?"

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. "A psychiatrist, to be precise."

"So you're gonna charge me when I complain to you about [F/N]?" She joked. "This one gave me more than a few grey hairs."

"Beatrice?" A passing woman interrupted, stealing your grandmother's attention.

"Gladys! Thank you so much for coming!" She said before wandering off without so much as a goodbye. That left you, Hannibal and Theresa.

"[F/N], I'm a little surprised." Theresa commented, taking a sip from her wine glass. "I would have never guessed that you were a gold digger."

Okay, so we're doing this, you thought. Grandma had left you unsupervised and the gloves were coming off. Let's fucking dance.

"And how's your husband, Theresa?" You matched her sickly sweet tone.

"My husband the senator?" Theresa perked up. "He's wonderful. We're enjoying the East Coast summer. It gets so dreadfully dry in Utah."

"Must be hard to enjoy your vacation while fighting off all those abuse allegations." You added.

She seemed to have forgotten that you too could switch from passive-aggressive to aggressive-aggressive on a dime. That you did learn from your grandmother.

Theresa tensed up, though her smile didn't falter. "Well, you know. It's a witch hunt out there. All those women just want to ruin a poor man's life."

"Children." You corrected, finishing your wine in one swig. "I think you meant to say children."

The wedding bells began to ring, alerting the guests that the ceremony was about to commence. You thanked the maker that you'd gotten the last word in.

"Well, I have to go join my sister at the altar." She placed her empty wine glass on a table. "It's been a pleasure."

"Theresa, how long are you and your husband in town for?" Hannibal asked, seemingly out of nowhere. "[F/N] and I would be honored to have both of you for dinner."

"Well, at least one of you has manners." Theresa sneered at you. "We would love to join you, Dr. Lecter. Thank you ever so much for the invitation."

Once Theresa was out of earshot, you let the confusion and outrage overtake your face.

"Hannibal, I ask this with love," you began, choosing your words carefully. "But are you going to poison them?"

"No, love." Hannibal snickered.

"You're right. Poisoning would be too good for her." You said through gritted teeth. "She doesn't deserve a quick death."

"All in due time, darling." He stroked your hair in reassurance. "Come, let's take our seats. The ceremony is about to start."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #wedding #fake engagement #tw csa mention #tw gaslighting #tw emotional manipulation

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Celestial Reads - Ezra (Prospect)

A/N: This is for Shop Week 2 Day 13. Ezra is the perfect man to find inside an Antique book shop and I hope you love him as much as I do. This is also a tribute to my favorite play, Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting and liking. 

Pairing: Ezra x F! Reader 

Warnings: Nothing, this is fluff and I love it. 

Word Count: 1.7K 

My Masterlist 

When you paid for your book, you kept talking about how much you were looking forward to it, so I read it too out of curiosity, and we bonded over it AU- Ezra (Prospect) 

The bell rang as you stepped inside Celestial Reads. The antique bookstore was tucked into a dilapidated shopping center, both of the neighbors long vacated. You breathe in the scent of leather and incense; the smoke slowly rising up on the counter with an antique cash register, the buttons raised. The room was enormous, the outside not showing the proper size, kind of like the Tardis. 

Shelves covered every square inch ahead of you, books piled high all the way to the ceiling. Around are several old lamps with a series of mismatched shades; some flowers, other bright pops of color. Each one seemed to have a lightbulb at different brightness. A worn leather brown couch with a few tears here and there sat against one wall next to a counter with a tea kettle and a coffee pot. Hanging over it were various hooks of size and shape, a plethora of cups on each one. You walk over and inspect closer, chuckling at the variety. A Chewbacca mug next to one from the London underground, the whole place was quirky. 

"Well, that sound is sweeter than the coo of a dove," you place a hand on your chest and spin, letting out a small gasp. "Apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you." A man steps from the shadows taking your breath away as he comes into the light. "My name's Ezra little Dove; I own this establishment." 

You stare at him a moment longer before shaking from your stupor. "Oh, you didn't. I just wasn't expecting anyone to speak. I'm alright." He smiles, and you feel the butterflies flutter in your stomach. He's classically gorgeous like the knights from your novels. Tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome with an unusual patch of blonde sticking out of his dark brown locks. You reach a hand out, introducing yourself, and he doesn't return it. 

"As much as I would like to meet your handshake Dove, I am unfortunately without the use of my right arm, but if you'd switch hands, I would be welcome to hold your hand." You observe the way his quarter-length grey shirt is cinched on the right side and mentally scold yourself, reaching out with the other hand. 

His hand is warm and firm as he envelopes your hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips and placing a kiss on the back. The butterflies are furiously battling to escape as you meet his dark brown eyes alight with more mischief than the god Loki. "Pleasure to meet you, Dove; what can I help you find this beautiful Autumn morning?" He releases your hand, and you feel the tingles travel up and down your arm, quickly clearing your throat. 

"I am on a treasure hunt," he grins at you, "and I was told that if anyone had my treasure, it would be you." 

"Well, then you've come to the right place; Celestial Reads is filled with treasures just waiting to be uncovered. What are you looking for?" 

"I was told you might have an old copy of a William Shakespeare play, Much Ado About Nothing? I know I could buy it anywhere, but I don't want some shiny new copy. I want one with-" 

"Character?" You smile and nod as he turns off into the mountains of books. "Follow me," he tosses over his shoulder, and you follow him deeper into the labyrinth of books. "Have you ever read the play before?" 

"When I was a little girl, my Grandfather read it to me; it was his favorite book. I remember loving it so much that my parents took me to see it in the park. I was at the gym the other day, and they had a sign for Shakespeare in the Park, and they're doing that play, so I thought it would be important to reread it." You smile, thinking of your memories with your Grandfather and how much it meant to share that with him. 

"Are you more a Beatrice or a Hero?" You stop and stare at his back, the way his shoulders, broad and robust, fill out the shirt lovely. He pauses, not hearing you, and turns, giving you a bright smile. "Are you alright there, Dove?" 

"Yes, I just I haven't read it in so long I don't really know who I am. I remember being obsessed with Hero when I was a girl. Wanting to be swept off my feet and fall in love with the handsome Claudio." He turns and keeps watching but staying closer to you now. "Even though he was a moron and believed the Prince's evil brother and almost lost her forever." 

He lets out a booming laugh and goes around another corner. "I'm sure it was not the intention of Shakespeare; he probably never imagined a beautiful young woman calling Claudio a moron." 

"You think I'm beautiful?" his steps falter, and he turns to you, reaching a hand forward and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

"Yes, I do, Dove." You tremble, and he lets his finger graze your cheek before turning away to scan the shelves. He reaches towards the top of the rack, his shirt rising up and revealing a trail of sun-kissed skin. "Ah! Found it!" he pulls a worn cover down and blows on the surface, a small plume of dust sprinkling onto the ground. He hands it over gently like a newborn babe, and your face lights up with joy, hands smoothing over the aged leather. 

When you look up at him, tears have gathered in your eyes, and you give him a silent thank you. Following him out the labyrinth and back towards the antique register. The sounds of the keys are loud, and you smile, thinking how wonderful it truly fits in the space. He tells you the total, and you hand over the money, completing the transaction. 

"Thank you so much. I can't wait to reread it and relive the romance." 

"Would you come back when you're finished?" Your eyes widen, and he smiles, "Have I been wrong in my assumptions?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I felt the spark when your hand touched mine, the way your eyes light up like a Summer's day when you smile; I would very much like to see you again. And not just as a customer." 

"Oh, oh," you feel the heat rise up your neck, "I would like that too, Ezra." 

"How about we exchange numbers, and you can let me know when you finish the book? Maybe we can meet over coffee and discuss it?" You nod and reach into your pocket, handing him your phone, unlocking it. 

He hands you his own, and you plug your name into his with a small emoji of a dove next to it. He laughs when he sees it, and you giggle at his name with the book emoji next to it. "There is something I think I should tell you, Dove, before we move forward." Your stomach plummets, immediately fearing the worst. "Oh, it's nothing so bad; I just have a daughter. Well, she's adopted, but she's mine. Her name is Cee. I know some people would rather not date a single parent." 

You smile, "It doesn't matter to me, I would still like to go out with you." His smile could rival the sun, and he reaches across the counter for your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. 

************

You and Ezra kept in contact, meeting several times for coffee and dinner, discussing the play and your lives. You'd even met Cee, the spitfire blonde teen who worked at the coffee shop down the street. It was obvious the feelings of love between them were mutual. After about a month, Ezra got you all tickets to see Much Ado About Nothing in the park, just like when you were a child. 

The play just as magical if not more than you remember with Ezra at your side. As Beatrice pours her heart out to Benedick, Ezra puts an arm around you on the checkered blanket and holds you close. Your head rests on his shoulder, he drops a kiss to the top of your head. Saying the lines along with the actors. You lift your head up and follow along, repeating Beatrice's lines of love to him as he portrays Benedick. 

"May a man do it?" he mouths, and your smile before responding. 

"It is a man's office, but not yours." 

"I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?" The butterflies return tenfold at the look in his eyes. Your lips tremble as you repeat the next line. 

"As strange as the thing I know not. It was as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.

"By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me." 

"Do not swear, and eat it." 

"I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.

"Will, you not eat your word?"

"With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee." 

"Why, then, God forgive me!" 

"What offense, sweet Beatrice?"

"You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you.

He whispers to you aloud this time. "And do it with all thy heart." 

Your eyes fill with unshed tears as you declare quietly against his lips, "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, and Cee lets out a disgusted sigh. 

"There are children present," she teases, and you both break away laughing and letting out half-hearted apologies, but you can tell she doesn't really mind. Having had revealed to you how happy she was that her dad finally had someone to make him smile again. 

He smiles down at you and kisses your lips softly again. "I love you," he whispers, and you melt under his gaze, repeating it back as he tucks you close. Cee resting her head on his other shoulder. The three of you content and happy with your new-found family. 

Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @ghostwiththemostbitch @zannemes @xjaywritesx @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell​ @chicken-ona-stick​ @agirllovespancakes​ 

#ezra prospect x reader #female reader #ezra prospect #Prospect AU #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #January Writing Challenge #300 follower celebration #Autumn Writes

[travlersjoy444]

Anemoia (Over the Garden Wall x Fem! reader) Pt.3

“Adelaide, to Adelaide! Come on and join the Adelaide parade!” I wince as Greg adds more and more to his Adelaide song. It was cute at first- heck, I sang along, but as he continued it grew annoying. Wirt and Beatrice aren’t humoring him, as they answer the statements in the song with ‘No.’ ‘Ugh, no.’ ‘Absolutely not.’. Much to my disappointment, I caught myself agreeing with them.

“Let’s go to Adelaide’s house-” He ends the song abruptly. “I’m working on that last part, but that’s the idea. So Beatrice, you sing the high part, (Y/N), sing the middle part, And Wirt can sing the really high part-”

“What? Seriou-” Wirt starts, slightly offended at Greg’s comment.

“Oh. Wait.” He pauses to tie his shoe.

Greg grins. “And-”

I cut him off. “No more singing. It’s lovely, but I need a bit of quiet. PLEASE.”

“And Wirt, keep moving.” Adds Beatrice.

“But I-I have to...ugh. All right.”

“But we have to do something fun.” Greg groaned.

“You know, we really don’t. We can just keep walking silently, you know? And- Ugh. Wirt, let’s go! Come on!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wirt pants as he catches up.

It sounded like she was talking to a dog or something. I fidget with my cloak.

“Hey Grim (Y/N)! You like doing fun things, right?” Greg says hopefully.

“Uh, yes. But fun for me is..” I try to avoid meeting the kid’s eyes.

“..fun for me is quiet. Not all the time, but it is right now.”

“But that’s boring!”

I shrug, feeling guilty for letting him down. But apparently Beatrice isn’t finished.

“Greg, don’t you want to be more like your brother?”

Wirt smiles proudly. I guess some self confidence will do him good-

“Always doing what you’re told?” She finished.

Never mind.

“Huh?” Wirt says, taken aback.

“Just a pathetic pushover who relies on others to make all his decisions?”

“Beatrice..” I trail off as I realize defending Wirt would only prove her point.

“Hey! What?! I’m not a pushover!” He snapped.

Okay, maybe he’s got it covered! Ni-

“Hold on, Wirt. Let me get to my point.”

He scoffed but agreed. “Fine.”

“See, Greg? No willpower whatsoever!”

He does not have it covered.

Wirt glares ahead, pouting as Beatrice continues to lecture Greg. I hang behind with him- Greg’s got a ton of willpower, I doubt Beatrice’s harsh words will do anything.

“Beatrice would make a rubbish motivational speaker, apparently.” I say.

Wirt scoffed. “Ugh. I’ll show her…”

“Um...are you planning something I should worry about?”

“No, I just want to prove her wrong. Or maybe…” He gets a glint of something I don’t quite recognize in his eyes, and smirks. (I had never seen him smirk before, the expression looked out of place on his usually anxious face)

He speeds up to reach Greg and Beatrice, and I let myself fall behind. Wirt confuses me, he always looks like he’s scared of me or mad at me, but he acts friendly for the most part. We have interesting enough conversations, so there’s that I guess...And Beatrice, I’m not sure what to make of her either. She’s blunt and brutally honest, which I respect, but she’s kinda mean. I’m just waiting for when she starts criticizing me, I’m sure that’ll happen eventually. Greg is...well, I know I like Greg. He’s so wholesome and optimistic, a welcome brightness in the dreary mood of our quartet.

The forest feels familiar, but it’s no Gravity Falls. There’s only a few pine trees compared to the Pacific Northwest, which feels weird. The mossy green and cool colors are missing, replaced by fiery warm tones that evergreens don’t have, and I kinda like it. It reminds me of childhood storybooks, with vintage witches and pumpkin people like the ones in Pottsfield. In my new outfit, I fit right in with those illustrations. There's an earthy smell in the air, one that calls back to the warmer days of summer while still being unique. This place, wherever it is, reeks of austice- one of my favorite words, meaning the wistful feelings of Autumn.

“Greg!” yells Wirt. I pull myself out of my musings to see what happened.

“Greg?” He repeats, walking towards a little schoolhouse up ahead. (See, this is what I mean- it’s like being in an Edwardian era storybook.)

He enters the schoolhouse, and so I follow halfheartedly. I just hope this isn’t another Pottsfield, with us facing anxiety-inducing stress and panic. Maybe this’ll just be a nice, aesthetic, vintage schoolhouse with no skeletons or beasts. I try to convince myself.

I peer into the schoolhouse, and am met with a queer sight: Dozens of baby animals dressed in Victorian/Edwardian clothing. A young woman with a gibson girl hairstyle stands by the blackboard in the front of the classroom, dressed in a white pigeon breasted bodice. Edwardian, then. She looks across the classroom to Wirt and I.

“Excuse me? Please, take your seat, children. You’re late. You know the rules- ‘Once the bell has rung, class has begun.’”

Beatrice fluttered ahead of us.

“Oh, sorry everybody, sorry. No, he doesn’t have a brain. He can’t learn anything. Let’s go, Wirt. Come on.” she whistles. “Here boy!” She paused before adding, “You too, (Y/N), you need to make sure he doesn’t walk off a cliff.”

Wirt, however, wasn’t having it. “What? Did you say something? I can’t hear you because I’m too busy doing what I’m told.” He enters the classroom and sits at a too-small desk. I turned to Beatrice, smirking.

“Score one, Wirt!”

“Oh, shut up (Y/N).”

She flies after him.

“What are you-No, no, let’s go.”

“Oh no. See, I’m a pushover, remember? I have to do what she says!”

“Wirt, your brother could be in trouble somewhere!”

I grin. “That’s okay, I’ll go look for him! You guys can stay here, take a break, do some math, write an essay or poem or something, while I get Greg!”

“Great, it’s settled then!” Says Wirt, smiling.

“No, it’s- ugh.” Beatrice gives up.

I wave to the teacher. “Right, I’ll be back to check on my..uh, friend, later. Thanks!”

*******

“Grim (Y/N), there you are!”

I jump and spin around.

“We’re playing ‘Two Old Cat’, wanna join?” Says Greg as he waves to a group of little woodland creatures. I shrug.

“Uh, sure. How do we..do that?”

“You find two old cats!” He turns to the possum. “Hey Jeffery, I think there’s one behind you!”

My eyes travel to where he’s pointing, and I notice a raspy breathing noise I didn’t hear before. What a weird game. The possum-Jeffery- moves the branches over, but there’s no cat behind them, only a freaking GORILLA!

“ROARRR!” it emerges from the bracken.

“Gorilla! Run!” Squeaks Greg, but everyone already has.

I chase after Greg and the little animals as they climb a tree onto the schoolhouse roof, with the gorilla still in hot pursuit.

“GORILLA!!” Yells Greg again as he and the animals cling to the bell. I stand on the roof nearby, trying to grab Greg. The gorilla rams into the bell as it chases us, and there's a loud ringing. As the gorilla is dazed from the collision, Greg, the animals, and I shoot back down the tree. I find a large branch and wait for the thing to clamber down. As soon as it does, I knock it in the head. There’s a sickening CRACK! As it falls forward, knocked out for now.

Greg waves the animals towards the schoolhouse.

“Quick, in here!”

*******

I sit cross-armed at the dining table, annoyed at how Ms. Langtree keeps calling me ‘child’ despite the fact that she’s only like an inch taller than I am. I tried some of the food that was being served, and it was...well, you know how your tongue tastes? That’s what it tasted like. So I wasn’t quite feeling friendly.

Wirt went to try some of his, to which Beatrice said “Hey, nobody ordered you to eat yet.”

“Yeah, but...mm.” He set the spoon down. I’m tempted to say ‘Score one for Beatrice’ but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

I play with the mashed potatoes, again lost in thought. A leaf floats by the window, and I recall an old poem. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...which road would we take? How long have we been out here? Roughly..two days? How will we get back...well, not back home, but back. I want to go home, but Mum and Pa sold our old house on the other side of the country. I miss it. I suppose I’ll miss this place too, somewhere down the line...golden memories are lovely lies. I close my eyes and for a moment...

The sun beats down on my head. My friend is rambling about cryptids and monster hunting as he flips through an old journal. I toss a piece of crumpled up paper through the air, and dream about growing up and seeing the word. I’ll go to Portland and be as weird as I want. I’ll go to big cities, like New York and Tokyo. I’ll go on long car rides in a beat up V.W. bus, stopping to take hikes or watch the stars. Maybe someday someone will be there with me.

“(Y/N)?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’ll be here next summer, right?” His eyes were hopeful, with most of their usual anxiety gone.

“I dunno..will you?”

“If you are.”

“Then of course I’ll be here.”

Maybe it’ll be with him.

Evidently, it wasn’t to be. I moved to New England in the last week of summer, and my friends went back to Piedmont California. We message sometimes, but it’s not the same. Maybe I’ll make new friends here. Even better, maybe I’ll go home. I won’t, but it’d be nice, y’know?

I look over to Wirt. Maybe I have new friends here. Albeit distant ones, but it still counts. I study his face. He has round large-ish eyes and a triangular nose. He’s my height roughly, just give or take a few inches. His cloak collar is slightly frayed on one side, but is in good condition otherwise. He was definitely not ‘just another kid’ to me anymore, and the more I knew about him the more fascinating he was. Jeez, I sound like I’m analyzing a scientific specimen or something.

There’s a banging sound, and I look up to see Greg pounding on the piano.

“Play something like this, Ms.Langtree!”

“Oh, like this?” She plays something with a quicker, cheerier tempo.

“Mm, good enough.” He hops onto the table. What is he doing?

“Oh, potatoes and molasses! If you want some, oh just ask us! They’re warm and soft like puppies and socks, filled with cream and candy rocks...Oh potatoes and molasses!” He sings along to Ms.Langtree’s piano, pouring everyone some molasses. It sounds gross, mixing molasses with mashed potatoes- molasses tastes like brown sugar- but somehow it tastes good when I try some. Now all the animals have cheered up, some are even playing instruments. Wirt taps his spoon to the rhythm, and I tap my foot.

“...they make everyone shout for potatoes and molasses! For potatoes, and-”

“That’s enough!” Snarls an unfamiliar voice. I turn to see an extremely tall man in the doorway.

“Father!” Gasps Ms.Langtree.

“Is this what I’ve been paying for?!”

“Hey, we just wanted to have a little fun!” Greg protests.

“I didn’t invest in this school for fun. I thought we were trying to do important work here: teaching animals to count and spell.”

Ms. Langtree nodded. “We are! Oh, please, father, don’t close the school. It won’t happen again.”

“I should say it won’t. Now send them to bed!”

“You heard father, off to bed with you.” Says Ms.Langtree sadly.

*******

Today just gets weirder and weirder. I tug on the sleeve of my nightgown, unsure if it makes me feel more like a princess or a little kid. Greg and Wirt were in the last bed, so there was nowhere for me to sleep. Okay, truthfully I could have fit in with them with a bit of effort, it just seemed awkward. So instead I was climbing the roof. Greg’s response to that idea was “You can do anything if you set your mind to it!” Wirt’s had been “That’s a terrible idea, you’ll fall and die.” Beatrice had smiled cheerily and said “Wonderful! One less nuisance!”

Well, Greg was right, as I was now perched on the roof. The stars were brighter then they ever were back home- no, back at Wirt and Greg’s home. I still refuse to accept that town as my home, although the people are admittedly growing on me.

“Hey, Grim (Y/N)! We’re going to make the world a better place!”

I look down to the window.

“Greg? What’re you doing awake?”

“Wirt's awake too! And Beatrice!”

Wirt leans out the window. “Hullo.”

“What the...are we leaving in the middle of the night?! My god…”

“Uhm, yes, but also no. Not for long. You don’t have to come- actually, it can be a surprise, whatever we’re doing, and maybe you can find out in the morning-”

“Pipe down, I’m coming, I’m coming. Just let me get my cloak pinned on.”

*******

We walked down to the forest.

“So what’re we doing out here anyways?” I ask.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Said Greg.

“Uh, great.”

We make our way to a clearing in the woods, to find Ms.Langtree’s father asleep under a tent made of his coat and the instruments he took from the animals.

“Okay, I think he’s asleep. Let’s steal his stuff.” Greg grins.

“Wait, what?”

*******

I sit cross legged on the roof, looking out at the decorations we spent all night building. All that was left now was to wait till dawn, and the moon was already sinking in the west. The sun would rise soon.

“So. You plan on sleeping tonight?”

“Oh, hi Wirt. I didn’t realize you were awake,”

He had joined me on the roof instead of going back to bed, but he fell asleep fast.

“Anyways, I did sleep. I just woke up.”

“Ah.”

We sat quietly for a moment.

“Wirt?” I break the silence.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh, that’s random..orange, I guess, but not bright orange- Autumn-y orange, kinda dulled but in a good way, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess. I like that color. My favorite one is (favorite color), but that sounds sorta boring compared to your fancy description.”

“Hey, (Y/N)? Can I ask you something...kinda weird?”

“So long as it’s not confessing your secret love for me, then go ahead. I love weird.”

“Am I a pushover?” His voice cracks. (not in like a sad ‘I’m about to cry’ way, but just because he’s a teenage boy)

“I dunno, am I Morticia Addams? No you’re not. You’re just not rebellious- I mean, you have no reason to be. You’re a kid, a bit neurotic, and tired of dealing with this adventure you never wanted to have… being told what to do must be a relief. I’m sorry if that makes no sense.”

“I guess it does… Well, thanks.” I can’t tell if his reaction is good or bad, so I change the subject.

“You like poetry, right?”

“How...how do you know that?!”

“You’ve been audibly muttering poems since we got out here.”

“I-I-No I haven’t! Have I? Yeah, I have, haven’t I…”

“Yeah. It’s quite cool, really. You sound all confident and elegant. Regal, one could say. Except when you trip over logs mid poem. That’s..that’s less regal, but oh well.”

“Tha-Thanks! Do you ever..possibly..hear the words? Er, like, listen to the words?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask, by the way, who you’re quoting when you recite it? It’s really good, I kinda wanna pick up a book of it.”

Something about that statement did..something, because Wirt’s mannerisms changed. Apprehension faded from his face, and in the rising sun, he looked like he was glowing.

“Oh, good luck with that. It’s not in print.” He looked away, failing to hide a blush.

“Ah, too bad. You’ll have to show me where you got it sometime-that is, if you want to.”

“I think I will. Sometime.” He smiled, finally meeting my eyes.

“Oh, and (Y/N)? Yeah, you are a lot like Morticia Addams, when you try to be. That’s to say, you’re really...intimidating. I thought it was just me- I mean to me, every kid at our school is a bit intimidating- but back at Pottsfield, the whole town went quiet. I mean, that’s pretty Morticia Addams, if you ask me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“Good, it is one. I mean, I meant it as one. I mean...I’m gonna stop talking now.”

“Hmm, good timing.” I point down to the ground where Ms.Langtree is being shown around by Greg and Beatrice. She dances around excitedly. Looks like Greg’s plan worked.

I take a deep breath. “Welp, savor these last moments of peace and quiet, my dude…”

*******

I bring another plate of mashed potatoes to the table, trying not to trip over the children. So far, Greg’s plan is working! People seem more than willing to fund the school!

I pause to take in the scene. Wirt is showing Mr.Langtree around, Beatrice is perched on Greg’s teapot hat, Greg is screaming about a gorilla-

Wait, what?

Sure enough, the gorilla had returned.

There was a ‘ROAR’, and chaos ensued. Tables flipped over as people ran. I looked for Greg, Wirt, and Beatrice, but kept losing them in the crowd. No wait- there’s Wirt! I ran towards him, yelling.

“We need to get out of here! Have you seen Greg?! Wait, what’re you- NO!”

He was charging towards the gorilla. A scrawny teenage boy vs a GORILLA.

“WIRT, YOU IDIOT!” I screamed, terror burning through my veins.

But as he ran towards it, he tripped over his shoelace.

And somehow knocked over..the gorilla..whose..head fell off?

“Jimmy!” Gasped Ms.Langtree.

I approach the scene cautiously, and see that in the gorilla’s neck was..a man’s face? It was..a costume? What in nine realms..WHY.

“That’s right, darlin’. I was the gorilla.” Says the man in the costume.

I feel like I’m in a sitcom.

“But why did you do it?” Ms.Langtree asked.

“Got a job in the circus so’s I could finally buy ya that wedding ring. But when I got stuck in the dang suit, everybody was too doggone scared to help me out.”

“Aw, Jimmy.”

“Darlin’.”

The two hug, and admittedly, it’s quite cute.

But I haven’t quite cooled down yet. What was Wirt thinking?! I’m not the most cautious person out there, but Wirt seems to have a death wish. I was scared for him, thank goodness he got lucky.

I pull him away from the festivities, glowering.

“Uhh..Hey (Y/N)! You..you okay? You seem...not exactly as cheerful as everyone else here…”

“What the HECK was that back there, Wirt?!”

“Umm..what?” He wrings his hands nervously.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“With the ‘gorilla’. You just ran at a-a freaking violent wild animal! I mean obviously you weren’t in real danger, but...what if next time you’re not so lucky?” I sighed, pacing back and forth.

“What would happen then? Would Greg and I just go home without his brother? Would your family find that they never got to say goodbye to their son? Would I have to carry that with me forever, that I couldn’t stop you? God, Wirt, what if you had died?!”

He stared at me for a moment, stunned.

“But I’m fine! It turned out great, and now everyone sees me as, like, I dunno..a hero! For once I’m not ‘shy nerdy poetry geek Wirt’!”

“What if it didn’t turn out great?!” My voice trembles.

“I-I don’t know..I..Look. How about we talk about this later and have some fun while we can? There’s good food and music, Ms.Langtree got her happy ending, and it turned out okay this time.” His eyes were pleading

“Just-just...try to be more cautious in the future?”

“I will, I promise. No more-or at least less- impulsive and dangerous actions. Or, I mean, I-I’ll try. I’m sorry I scared you, (Y/N).”

“Heh, I’m sorry too, I probably overreacted there. I guess I was just worried, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It- it’s okay. C’mon, let’s eat cake with Greg.”

“Sounds good to me.” I slung an arm around his shoulders and we rejoined the crowd. Watching the couples dance, the animals play music, and Greg singing center stage, I feel the tensions from earlier fade.

*******

“So, should we tell Greg it’s time to go?” Asks Wirt after grabbing a plate of sweets.

Beatrice smiles. (Or at least as much as a bird can) “Nah, let him have his fun.”

Greg grabs my sleeve out of nowhere.

“C’mon Grim (Y/N)! Sing with us!”

“Oh, um, okay! Sure!”

“Oh, and Wirt?” I hear Beatrice say as I walk off.

“What?” “Tie your shoe.”

*******

And then we got in more trouble. As cute and fun as our trip to the schoolhouse was, the next adventure...well, I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.

*******

Pt.2:

Pt.1:

#otgw wirt #otgwxreader #over the garden wall x reader #over the garden wall #wirt x reader #wirt

[esmealux]

The Devil Doesn’t Do Children

Part: 1 / ?

Setting: About a year after 5a

Word count: 3.3K

Rating: T

Warnings: Mention of death/murder (and, quite indirectly, foeticide)

Summary: Chloe is sick and Lucifer puts two and two together (with a little help from Dan).

Author’s note: This is my longest work so far. It was meant to be one long piece, but it ended up being 10.8K (!), so I’ve cut it into three parts. And just because I can’t help myself, there’s already a fourth on the way. Enjoy!

Usually, Lucifer wakes up bathed in golden dawn light and wrapped in the warmth of Chloe’s naked body. If it’s not her raucous snoring or the demanding screeches of her alarm that rouse him from his sleep, it is the press of her soft lips against his neck (or somewhere more south, if he’s particularly lucky, and he often is). But not today. Today he wakes up surrounded by darkness in her much too cold bed, and it’s neither her snores nor her kisses which break off his slumber. It’s the sound of Chewbacca being strangled in her bathroom. 

Or, he realises upon fully awakening, Chloe throwing up.

Alarmed and slightly annoyed that vomit of all things is interrupting his peaceful rest, he sits up in bed and stretches his taut body. Grabbing the nearest phone, he checks the time and groans when it says 05.26. Somewhere in his half-asleep mind, he recalls the Danish saying ‘Før Fanden får sko på’—now officially a synonym for 05.26, he thinks as he gets up and walks to the bathroom door barefoot.

‘Detective?’ he asks in a gruff voice, knocking quietly.

‘Don’t come in,’ she commands before heaving again.

He flinches. ‘Believe me, love, I wasn’t planning on it.’

It’s mostly said in jest, because if she asked him, he would be there by her side in a heartbeat. They’ve been through far too much together to care about the other’s less appetising sides. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time he sees her ejecting her stomach contents, having once picked her up from an extraordinarily wild Tribe night. At least he won’t have to stick his fingers down her throat this time.

Eventually, there’s an intermission long enough for her to flush, put down the seat and open the door for him. He enters with reluctance, inspecting her warily as she sits on top of the toilet lid, her head in her hands. When she looks up at him, he gasps. ‘Oh, darling, you look positively terrible’—he leans a bit forward, assessing her ashen face—‘Abominable, really.’ Behind the thick mask of nausea and exhaustion, he thinks he sees her glare.

‘Fancy a toothbrush?’ he offers, already walking past her to find one by the sink. A hint of gratitude glints in her matte eyes as he hands it to her along with a glass of water. He smiles at her and leans against the door frame, eventually looking down to appreciate his pedicure as she rinses her mouth. ‘Is pwobably sumthin I ate,’ she mumbles around foam and toothbrush. He cocks his eye and looks up at her, scoffing. ‘You think?’ When he’d locked himself into her flat late last night after hosting an event at Lux, he’d been greeted by the sight of her and her spawn sleeping on the couch, remains of junk food cluttering up the coffee table before them. The logo on the Styrofoam had made him shake his head in disappointment and disgust. He’d cleaned it up and carried the ladies to their beds, but not before ripping one specific menu card off their fridge and tearing it to pieces. ‘I mean, it’s one thing you order garbage for yourself, but must you punish your offspring in the process? I may detest children, but even I think that’s no way to treat a child. Especially Beatrice. You do realise the men’s room at Lux are cleaner than that place, right?’

In response to his question, she pulls the toothbrush out of her mouth, lifts the lid of the toilet and, once again, disgorges her dinner.

‘My point exactly,’ he replies, before crouching down next to her to hold back her hair.

*

‘Lucifer! Did you make breakfast?!’ The doe-eyed creature shrieks as it appears from its nest, the brown, ungroomed mane falling messily around its head.

‘Good morning to you too, urchin,’ he greets her, looking up from the pot he’s stirring in to give her a half-forced smile as she takes a seat by the counter. He feels a strange itch in his hands to pull out the bar stool for her and help her up (mostly because he can’t be bothered with her tedious jumping), but to his surprise, she climbs the stool with ease—or at least not ungracefully. It tugs at something in his chest the same way it does when he occasionally is compelled to spend time with his nephew, and the babe’s already crawling, or walking, or making sounds that somewhat resemble actual words. For unfathomable reasons, it makes him feel uneasy—but mostly pleased; the sooner they grow up, the sooner they’ll stop being such pains in the-

‘Oh my God, is that bacon? And eggs? And pancakes?!’

He sighs and looks up to chide her for her unjust invocation, but swallows it when he sees her hungry, gleeful eyes. ‘Yes, here. Have some actual food,’ he tells her, nudging the plate and some cutlery in her direction. And some wet wipes, because longer limbs or not, she’s still a sticky child.

‘It’s chocolate chip pancakes!’ she exclaims upon inspecting her breakfast further, as if he didn’t already know. ‘Thank you, Lucifer. You’re the best.’ She’s beaming brightly at him now, and he feels threatened, foreseeing that she, any second, will launch her small body at him and enclose his middle, ruining his Armani suit with her greasy fingers. But she doesn’t. She just sits there and stares at him, her eyes twinkling with an emotion that looks uncannily related to one he has only ever seen in her mother’s eyes.

‘Eh,’ he breathes, his throat tightening. He looks away from her unsettling smiley face and returns his attention to the pot on the stove. ‘Well, it was the least I could do after your supposed caregiver fed you literal poison last night.’

Suddenly reminded of the Detective and her progeny’s shared meal, he turns his head to search the adolescent’s face for any signs of sickness. But she doesn’t look remotely nauseous as she devours her feed like a starving hyena cub. He quirks an eyebrow. ‘I’m guessing from your lupine appetite that you haven’t been praying to the porcelain gods like your mother?’

Beatrice’s brows knit together, her fork pausing mid-air. She (fortunately) swallows her food before she speaks, all joy in her voice suddenly gone, ‘Mom’s sick?’

‘Well, yes, but I’m positive it’ll pass soon. She just needs to… get it out of her system,’ he quickly reassures her, offering her a soft smile. The discomforting concern in the big, brown eyes slowly disappears as absolute delight takes over.

‘Does that mean you’re taking me to school?’ She asks, her small corpus barely able to contain her joy. ‘In your car?!’

He scoffs, feeling attacked. ‘As if I’d ever voluntarily drive your mum’s mind-numbingly boring example of an automobile.’ She grins at that, making a comment about how his is ‘definitely a trazillion times cooler,’ and he smiles at her, smug and victorious. ‘Exactly, child! So, yes, naturally, I will be escorting you in the corvette. But now, march off and get yourself ready while I finish this…’ he pokes around the grey goo in the pot with the wooden spoon, trying not to grimace, ‘oatmeal, for your mother. According to our friend Alexa it’s good for nauseated humans, although I highly doubt it.’

The teenager simply shrugs at that, finishes her breakfast and retreats to her burrow to get dressed. Once the porridge is done, Lucifer pours it in a bowl, puts it on a tray along with a cool glass of coke (also Alexandra’s suggestion) and carries it up to the Detective’s bedroom. He opens the door slowly as to not wake her, but the stubbornest of women is sitting on the edge of the bed, using all strength left in her depleted body to pull on her skinny jeans. Putting down the tray on the nearest surface, he darts over to her with a ‘what in Dad’s name are you doing?!’ and tugs the trousers down her legs and off her. ‘We have to go to work, Lucifer,’ she objects rather weakly, not even trying to put her jeans back on. ‘I have to go to work,’ he corrects her, carefully laying her down once he’s freed both her feet. ‘You, Detective, need to stay here and rest until you can keep it all inside you.’ He senses she’s about to protest again, so he places a kiss on her forehead and assures her, ‘Trust me, dear, everything is taken care of.’ Even as nausea has tinted her face green, she manages to narrow her eyes at him in scepticism. ‘Just promise me you’ll behave,’ she eventually mutters as she gives up and nuzzles into the blankets.

He lightly strokes her shoulder with the back of his fingers and quietly walks out of the room, leaving her with a dramatic sigh and an ‘As you wish.’

*

Daniel is already at the crime scene when Lucifer arrives after depositing the urchin. He’d thought he’d have to go through an entire day of purgatory—or paperwork, as the Detective pronounces it—and it was only worsened by the fact that he wouldn’t have his partner by his side. If she had been there, he could at least have distracted them both with some suggestive looks here, some subtle touches there, and—when he’d worked her into a frenzy of desire—a coffee break or two in the parking garage. Instead, he’d have to endure the agonising tedium on his own, even as there were, at a minimum, three hell loops he’d rather spend his time in than do paperwork at the precinct all day. But then Miss Lopez had called and informed him they’d got a new case. He’d been absolutely delighted (as delighted as it is allowed when someone has dropped dead), but only until he’d made the mistake of telling her that the Detective was home sick, and she’d said that she would ‘call Espinoza ASAP’ and tell him to meet them at the scene. If he had just kept his mouth shut, he could have got the case all to himself, instead of having Detective Douche tag along.

Taking a deep breath, he checks his cuffs and takes his time approaching the douche in question. ‘Sorry I’m late. Your spawn spent quite some time choosing the right attire,’ Lucifer offers in greeting. Daniel looks him up and down with raised eyebrows, his eyes landing on the perfectly folded crimson pocket square. ‘For a normal school day? Wonder who inspired that kind of vanity in her.’

‘Well, it certainly wasn’t her father,’ Lucifer deadpans and nods towards Daniel’s hoodie/jacket/jeans-combination.

With a humourless laugh and a shake of his head, Dan stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns on his heels to walk up the stairs and into the residential building. After bringing out his flask and taking a long swig, Lucifer follows him.

When they enter the flat, Miss Lopez is leaning over the body with her camera. The sight is oddly welcoming. Comfortably familiar. She’d only come back a week ago after being away for a little over a month, on a much-deserved vacation in New Zealand, and Lucifer had missed her cheerful spirit and their crime scene banter terribly. The latter is, much to Lucifer’s annoyance, cut short today by Daniel ‘Buzz-Kill’ Espinoza’s ‘So, Ella, what can you tell us about the vic?’

It’s a rather uninteresting case; a woman, Laura Greene, 26, has been murdered in her home. Stabbed with a kitchen knife, first in the abdomen, then the chest. No signs of B&E, no signs of struggle. A swift and impulsive act—no doubt a crime of passion according to Ella. The most obvious culprit would be an angered partner, but the roommate, who found the body, tells them the victim wasn’t in a relationship and rarely went on dates or brought anyone home. On top of that, Roomie can’t think of anyone who would hurt dear Laura. And the neighbours are just as useless; one is a deaf elder lady, and the others were chasing the dragon at the time of death. The rest of the floor haven’t heard or noticed anything either. Consequently, they have absolutely nothing once they get to the precinct. Ella goes through evidence and Daniel through piles and piles of papers, leaving Lucifer to stand awkwardly in the corner of Ella’s lab, with no desires to unveil or miscreants to threaten.

As to not die of boredom, he zooms out and lets his mind wander. He’s in the middle of designing a strategy for how to make Chloe finally agree to try the deliciously sinful position he considers one of his favourites when Ella’s frustrated sigh interrupts his planning.

‘Something troubling you, Miss Lopez?’ he asks her, pulling out his flask.

She tells him she has nothing. No match on the fingerprints from the murder weapon, no useful surveillance tapes, no clues at the scene that can tell her the gender, age, or occupation of the murderer. Nada. Just the fact that it was done in a moment of heat.

Before Lucifer can answer, Dan walks in with a puzzled look on his ill-favoured face, his arms filled with highlighted printouts. ‘Could she’ve been pregnant?’

Ella tilts her head. ‘I mean, it’s not impossible, but based on what her roommate told us, I wouldn’t bet my money on it. You know, because our girl Laura had no boy toyz.’

Lucifer can’t hold back a snort. ‘Please, Miss Lopez, all it takes is a boy toy, singular, ten minutes in a bathroom stall and the absence of contraceptives.’

Dan looks at him with disgust and horror before shaking his head and returning his attention to Ella. ‘Well, no,’ he answers her, ignoring Lucifer’s comment entirely, ‘but then I thought about the other thing her roommate said, about Laura throwing up during the past weeks, and I thought-’

‘But Michelle said she thought it was an eating disorder, like Laura’d had before,’ Ella interrupts him, looking to Lucifer for support. He just purses his lips and looks back. Truth be told, when they’d been talking to the roommate, the mentioning of vomit had reminded him of his feeble Detective at home and he’d excused himself to send her a text. He therefore hadn’t heard whatever explanation the woman had offered (nor her arguments for why the victim’s sickness would be relevant to them). Fortunately, Dan answers.

‘Yeah, I know, I thought that too, but then I saw she paid a bill to an OB-GYN earlier this month, and it could just be a gynaecological check-up or something, but then I remembered how badly Chloe suffered from morning sickness when she was pregnant with Trixie, so I…’

Lucifer stops listening as Daniel’s words—one in particular—suddenly whirl around him, loud and ominous. His heart starts pounding faster and his throat goes dry. He instinctively grips the edge of the lab table.

‘Surely there could be other explanations,’ he manages to get out, interrupting his co-workers’ discussion. ‘Food poisoning, for instance.’

Dan and Ella look at him with equally sceptical looks. ‘Not for ten days straight,’ Ella argues.

‘But there is a myriad of reasons for a woman to throw up,’ he defends as he starts frantically googling. ‘Indigestion, stomach bug, chemotherapy, motion sickness… aha, migraine!’

When Lucifer looks up from his phone, Daniel is looking at him like he’s questioning his sanity. Miss Lopez seems concerned too, but more in an ‘dude, you okay?’-way than anything else.

Ella slowly takes her eyes off Lucifer’s face and eyes Dan shortly. ‘Well, we can’t know for sure before we get the final results from the autopsy, but from what Dan has found, she could quite possibly be pregnant.’

‘But,’ Lucifer objects, barely audibly, like someone has knocked the wind out of him, ‘she can’t be.’ He’s staring out into empty air, unwelcome images suddenly flooding his mind, as Daniel and Miss Lopez continue talking. He’s on the verge of what he thinks might be a panic attack when a voice, her voice, drags him out of his own head.

‘Hey guys,’ she greets them. She’s hoarse and looks a little tired, but the green tinge is gone.

‘Detective,’ is what he manages to say back. She looks at him with soft eyes and it’s enough for him to come back to his senses for a moment. Surprised by her presence, he begins to ask, ‘Are you done-’

He was going to say ‘puking your guts out’ but she widens her eyes at him and cuts him off, ‘Having a bad headache? Yes, thank you, Lucifer. I just needed some rest.’

‘Right,’ he mumbles, giving her one slow nod. She walks over to stand close beside him and brushes her fingers against the back of his hand, somehow sensing that he’s tense. 

‘Okay, what have we got?’ She looks to Dan and Ella and lets go of Lucifer’s hand. He instantly misses her touch.

They fill Chloe in, telling her about everything from the lack of leads to small, seemingly insignificant details. When she’s completely up to date, she has that look on her face, eyes slightly narrowed, like she has a (historically, clever) theory.

‘Well,’ she begins, still visibly thinking, ‘it does take two to tango.’ She side-eyes Lucifer, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. It’s clear she expects a remark or a praising grin in return, and he tries, but it comes out as a grimace and a strained ‘eh’. She gives him a funny look before continuing her theory, ‘What I mean is, boyfriend or not, there’s still a father out there. Maybe he found out and couldn’t handle the news? Maybe he was married to someone else? Or… he just didn’t want to be a dad?’

Lucifer feels his heartbeat speed up once again. An odd emotion he can’t quite name spreads in his chest. It feels like a disease.

‘Sure seems like motive, but how are we gonna find him?’ Dan asks. Not one second later, Miss Lopez’ ‘found him!’ sounds from where she’s leaning over her computer. ‘Tech just got access to her photos —kinda tricky since she had this super secure lock-’

‘Who is he, Ella?’ Chloe demands.

Ella clicks on the screen and turns the computer around so they can see. ‘The guy’s everywhere in her camera roll. I don’t know, he seems kinda familiar, but-’

‘That’s Max Steinfeld!’ Dan exclaims when he sees the photo. It’s taken in bed, post-orgasm Lucifer would say, judging from the blissful aura. Laura’s got a hand on the man’s chest who, indeed, is the chap who starred on that horrible teenage comedy show and today is trying to redeem himself by doing mediocre action movies and… settling down with Hollywood’s sweetheart. 

‘But he’s dating Simone Riley,’ Lucifer enlightens his colleagues upon his revelation. ‘They’re tying the knot this spring.’

Chloe shoots him a questioning look, and he tells her he got a mani-pedi the other day. She nods her head in understanding.

‘Well, if he’s engaged, he probably wasn’t ecstatic when Laura told him she was pregnant with his baby.’

As she asks Dan to get the actor’s current location all Lucifer can do is stand there and stare at her, as if he might find the answers to the thousands of questions in his head written on the side of her face. But he doesn’t. He only finds the familiar beauty mark, a perfectly pointed eyebrow, and the smooth, marble-like skin of the woman he loves. And it makes him yearn for those answers even more.

Part II  |  Part III  | Part IV (coming soon)

#deckerstar fanfiction #writing #lucifer x chloe #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #dan espinoza #lucifer and trixie #ella lopez #post 5a #lucifer on netflix #lucifer fanfiction #pregnancy #The Devil Doesn't Do Children #established #hurt comfort #murder case

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 328. brb x oc

a/n: ayo...yall ready for smut??? (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

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-

Nicole’s laughter was so loud that it surpassed whatever they were watching on tv right now, well,no one was watching, in fact Rooster was too busy lying on the floor, letting his three kids climb on him. Nicole chose to lie stomach down over his chest, Aurora was crawling on the floor by his left arm nibbling his shirt while Gavin just babbled happily as he was plopped on Rooster’s stomach.

The room is filled with the sweet scent of baby powder, and toys are scattered in every direction. Beatrice, standing in the doorway, observes the heartwarming chaos with a smile. Her gaze shifts between her husband and their three little ones,"Looks like Daddy's the new jungle gym," Beatrice teases, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorway.

Rooster grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he cranes his neck. "I wouldn't have it any other way. The Bradshaw Jungle Gym is officially open for business. Wanna join?"

Beatrice chuckles, shaking her head. "I'll pass this time. I'll be the official audience for the Bradshaw Circus."

He raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his expression. "Are you sure, Bea? I heard the trapeze act is a sight to behold."

Beatrice smirks, feigning contemplation. "Tempting, but I'll save my acrobatics for later. You seem to have your hands – and stomach – full at the moment." she giggles, petting Jolene and Jack as she walks over to the couch, Eleanor is back at the door, sniffing through the crack, “How are you holding up?”

Rooster grins up at her, the joy evident in his eyes. "I'm surviving the invasion of the little rascals. But you know what, Bea? I wouldn't trade this for anything. It's chaos, but it's our chaos."

Beatrice takes a seat on the couch, watching the adorable mayhem unfold. "The best kind. Looks like they've turned Daddy into their personal playground."

Rooster laughs,and Nicole rolls on her stomach so she could look at his face. "Well, I've always been a firm believer in hands-on parenting. Literally."

Nicole, perched on his chest, grins mischievously. "Daddy, tell stowy?"Aurora, still nibbling on Rooster's shirt, babbles in agreement, and Gavin claps his tiny hands, while Rooster blinks, giving Bea a look.

“Oh,you have no idea how her vocabulary grew,Roos,just you wait.”

“I mean,shit,” he chuckles, “I suck at telling stories baby girl.” he tells Nikki who is just staring at him with those big light colored eyes, “Ask mama, she knows I suck a lot.”

“That’s not true.” she adds, then pauses, “Partially,maybe.”

“See?”

Nicole furrows her light brows, “Stowwy!”

Rooster chuckles, surrendering to the adorable demand. "Alright, alright, storytime it is." He shifts a bit on the floor, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position, making sure they don’t topple down when he does so.

"Once upon a time," Rooster begins, his deep voice carrying the words, "there was a brave little princess named Nikki."

Nikki's eyes widen in excitement, Aurora pauses her shirt-nibbling to listen intently, and even Gavin seems to be enraptured by whatever was happening.

"This princess lived in a magical kingdom called…Bradshawville,” Bea sputtered a laugh, then held up a hand when he narrowed his eyes playfully at her “... ruled by the wise King Rooster and Queen Bea. And they had uh…" 

Nicole giggles, "Cookies!"

"Exactly!" Rooster continues, "Now, in this kingdom, there was a mischievous dragon named Jack, who loved to steal socks." The poor dog looked up, clearly confused why his name was being said outloud. “And…he had…a sister named Eleanor who…uh… liked…fightning knights.”

"And then, there were two magical knights, Aurora and Gavin and they…” he frowns, “They…” he looks over at Bea for help.”

Beatrice smirks,"Aurora and Gavin were the bravest knights in all the land, armed with their mighty pacifiers and diaper shields. They were on a quest to rescue the stolen socks and bring peace to Bradshawville."

Rooster nods in approval, “Fuck,that’s good. But the mischievous dragon, Jack, was not so easily defeated. He had a secret weapon—a powerful tail wag that could create a sock tornado, making it even more challenging for the knights to retrieve the stolen loot."

Nicole giggles,she and her siblings were completely engrossed in the fantastical world her parents are painting for them. Beatrice was going to stay there and help,but the phone was ringing in the kitchen so she stood up with a gentle ‘be right back’ escaping her lips.

She answers it while keeping an eye on the group in the living room, “Hello?”

“Heeey babes.”

‘Hi,Shells.” she smiles, “How can I help you today?”

Shells' voice comes through the phone, "Just checking in on my favorite bestie. How's life over there?"

Beatrice chuckles, glancing back at the living room where Rooster is weaving an elaborate tale for the kids. "Oh, you know, the usual.Rooster is spending time with the kids and he had a nap too, so…so far so good."

Shells chuckles on the other end of the line. "Sounds like a peaceful day. How's the superhero lieutenant holding up after his adventures?"

Beatrice smiles, "He's doing well. I think he's enjoying the break and the kids are ecstatic to have him back. What about  you?"

"Oh, you know,making sure to tire Bob the right way, yknow? He’s still asleep. After a mission like that, my honey bun needed the break.”

"Sounds like a plan. We all need our rest after a mission, even the four-legged warriors. Anything exciting on your end?"

Shells sighs dramatically. "Nah, just the usual chaos at the bar.”

“Is everyone okay, though?"

"Yeah, no harm done. Someone spilled their drinks but we  just did a little cleanup and a free round of drinks as an apology. You know how Penny works her magic."

"That I do, you guys don’t need the help? I know it’s my day off but–”

Shells chuckles on the other end of the line. "Bea, it's your day off. Relax, enjoy the time with Rooster and the kids. We've got the bar covered. Plus, Penny is like a wizard. "

"Thanks, Shells. I just can't help but worry sometimes."

"I get it, girl. But seriously, we've got it under control. You've earned your break."

 Beatrice glances over at the living room where Rooster is now engaged in an impromptu game of hide-and-seek with Nikki. The laughter of the children mingles with Rooster's good-natured teasing. It warms Beatrice's heart to see her family in such high spirits after so long.

"So, any plans for the evening, Bea?" Shells inquires, breaking through Beatrice's reverie.

Beatrice leans back against the kitchen counter, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Well, Rooster and I were thinking of having a quiet evening together, maybe catch a movie after putting the kids to bed. You know, just unwind."

Shells' voice takes on a teasing tone. "Ah, the classic date night. I love it. What's on the movie menu?"

Beatrice chuckles, "Probably something light, maybe a comedy. We could use a good laugh."

"Solid choice. Laughter is the best stress-buster. And…you know..something else.”

Beatrice’s lips part in surprise and her cheeks burn…Shells is right, she did miss Rooster and…everything that involved him. She peeked back outside and had to hold back the deep sigh so Shells wouldn’t tease her.

He was holding the three babies and his bicep bulged when he did so, with his shirt rising just enough to show his stomach and happy trail. Fuck,he was really hot as a father.

Shells, sensing Beatrice's momentary distraction, chuckles knowingly. "I take it Rooster is looking especially fine today?"

Beatrice can't help but laugh, her cheeks still tinged with a faint blush. "Yeah, he is. It's hard not to…appreciate the view." and his six pack seemed even more defined.

Shells lets out a low whistle. "Well, enjoy the view and the movie night, girl. You two deserve it."

"Thanks, Shells. And thank you for holding down the fort at the bar. I owe you one."

"No worries, Bea. It's what friends are for. Now, go and enjoy your evening. And who knows, maybe you'll get that 'something else' after all."

"Shells, you're incorrigible."

"You love me for it. Now go, before Rooster thinks you've abandoned him for our riveting conversation."

Ending the call with a smile, Beatrice tucks her phone into her pocket. As she walks back into the living room, the playful chaos intensifies. Rooster, still holding the babies, is now the target of Nikki's enthusiastic attempts at hiding.

"Dada, I coming!" Nikki's high-pitched voice rings through the room as she covers her eyes and starts counting.

Beatrice watches the scene unfold with a heart full of warmth. Rooster, fully embracing the role of the playful dad, plays along with Nikki's hide-and-seek game. His laughter blends with Nikki's giggles.

As Nikki finishes counting, Rooster dramatically scans the room, feigning surprise at every potential hiding spot, asking the twins to help as he carried them around. Finally, he spots Nikki's tiny form squeezed behind the living room curtains. He gasps dramatically, "Oh no! Where could Nikki be?"

Nikki bursts into a fit of giggles, unable to contain her excitement. Rooster pretends to search for her, his eyes locking onto the curtain, and he dramatically pulls it back to reveal a beaming Nikki.

"There she is!" Rooster exclaims, scooping her up in his arms. "I got you!!

Beatrice can't help but inhales shakily, god damn it. She tries her best to appear casual, there wasn’t a good time to exude what she really wanted to do right now. He smiles at her and her whole body melts, that smile was her absolute ruin, “It was Shells,” she gestures to the phone, petting Jolene on the way over to the living room, “Just wanted to check on things.”

Rooster grins at Beatrice, still holding Nikki in his arms. "Shells making sure everything is okay?"

Beatrice nods, leaning against a wall. "Yeah, and she also suggested that we deserve a good laugh and...have fun.” she chewed her lower lip, she didn’t know if he noticed but seeing how his eyes dropped…he definitely did.

Rooster raises an eyebrow, his smile turning into a suggestive smirk. "Well, we'll see about that. Won’t we?"

“Good to know,LC.” his sharp inhale was another sign, god she missed him so much “But uh,how is the hiding seek going?”

Rooster chuckles, his eyes still lingering on Beatrice. "Oh, it's going great. Nikki is a master hider. I can't compete with her skills." Nikki, enjoying the attention, proudly puffs out her chest. "You sure are, sweetheart," Rooster praises, setting her down. "Now, let's see if the twins have any hidden talents."

Cue to Aurora to slap his face,much like Nikki did when she was younger, “Ow. Okay, um,strong arm.”

“She got that from you, both of them.” Bea says,meanwhile Gavin is just snuggled to his father’s neck, deciding that now would be a great time for a nap, “Oh,I know, Aurora,Gavin, look!”

Aurora, having inherited her mother's sense of curiosity, perks up at the mention of her name. She blinks her wide, innocent eyes and lets out a baby coo as if responding to the call.

Rooster grins, holding Aurora up in front of him as if presenting her to an imaginary audience. "Behold, the next generation of master hiders! Aurora, the soon to be undisputed champion of hide-and-seek."

Beatrice laughs, thoroughly entertained by the playful scene unfolding. "You're such a dork, you know that?"

"A dork with impeccable taste," Rooster retorts, winking at her. "Now, let's see if Gavin has any tricks up his tiny sleeves."

As Rooster shifts his attention to Gavin, the little one seems to have a different agenda. Nestled against Rooster's neck, Gavin has decided that a nap is far more appealing than hide-and-seek shenanigans. His tiny fingers curl around Rooster's shirt, and his rhythmic breathing suggests that he's entered the realm of baby dreams.

"Well, it seems like Gavin's talent lies in the art of peaceful slumber," Rooster quips, gently rocking the sleeping baby. "I can't blame him; napping is a skill worth mastering."

Beatrice smirks, running her hand on Gavin’s brown hair, it was starting to curl. "Looks like we have a future nap champion on our hands." she giggles, “...well,do you want to keep playing with the kids? They’ll nap soon enough.” and seeing how he immediately hugged them tighter, the answer was yes.

He hadn’t seen them in months after all.

“Just a little bit more.” he smiles, “I can tire them out.” she nods then, stepping back to give them space, but Rooster lowers his head enough to press a kiss to her cheek, “Then I’m all yours,gorgeous.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[juliandev0rak]

Firelight 🍋

Lysander and Beatrice enjoy a night in. 

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens ), Beatrice Viano

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~2200

warnings: nsfw / lemon, nerds in love

notes: Vianan’s first lemon 🥺set pretty far in the future because this is a Slow Burn, alternate title- “vianan get to third base” 👀

Beatrice sits with her back pressed to Lysander’s chest as they lounge on the couch together. His arms rest around her waist and her head lies lightly on his shoulder as she reads to him. They’ve spent most of their nights together like this, taking in the warmth of the fireplace and each other. It’s her first winter in Umbra, her first winter with him. 

She finds that for all the wonders the city contains, the opera house, the museums, even the libraries, the most wonderful thing of all is still an evening alone with Lysander.

As she continues to read, one of his hands moves to play with her hair and she smiles up at him, breaking off from the paragraph she’d been reading. He leans down to press a kiss to her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. As he pulls away, Beatrice wrinkles her nose a little in frustration and sets the book down so she can turn to look at him.

“Now that wasn’t a proper kiss, was it?” She smiles, one of her hands going to cradle the side of his face. He laughs under his breath at her comment and leans in again, their lips and tongues meeting in a now-familiar dance. It’s a proper kiss to be sure. 

When they pull away she turns back to the book, opening it to where they’d left off. She continues reading for a moment, trying not to stutter on the words as his hands slide down her shoulders. One of his hands moves to fiddle with the ties on the bodice of her dress, and she finds it very difficult to focus on the book with him that close to her chest. He hesitates for a moment, then gingerly lets his hand rest over her breast, right above her heart. Her words abruptly cut off mid sentence. 

No doubt Lysander can feel the way her heart races as she looks up at him. “Is that- is this alright?” 

“Yes.” Beatrice lets the book drop off the side of the couch.

She exhales shakily and slowly reaches her hand to guide his a bit lower so it’s resting directly over the center of her breast. He gives a light squeeze and she breathes in sharply, eyes locked to his. He continues to carefully move his hand over her chest, hardly applying pressure as he explores, until his fingers barely graze her nipple and she gasps. He repeats the motion more intentionally then, listening to her breathing get heavier.

Lysander goes for the ties on the top of her dress again, “May I?” She nods hurriedly in response and reaches up to help him untie them. 

He presses a kiss to her collarbone as his hand moves beneath the loose open neckline. With his hands directly on her the sensations are even more powerful, and her breathing picks up as his hand continues its journey downwards. Heat pools in her abdomen as he continues to gently roll and squeeze her sensitive skin and she resists the urge to rub her thighs together for some semblance of friction.

This is new for them, but it’s something they’ve both thought about before. Tensions have been building up to this for a while, lingering glances had become longer, hands had wandered lower, and at this point- they’re ready for more. Beatrice readjusts so she’s lying more comfortably between his legs, careful not to lean against him too much and risk hurting his back.

While one hand continues to explore her chest, the other moves over her dress, travelling along the curve of her waist, the edges of her hips, until his hand comes to rest on her leg. He bunches the fabric of her dress up as he moves his hand over the bare skin of her inner thigh. With her dress pushed up past her hips he has a perfect view of her lacey underwear, something she’d taken to wearing more often lately- just in case.

“Beatrice,” Lysander says her name almost reverently, dark eyes trained to hers, “May I touch you here?” 

“Yes.” She shivers as he moves his hand further in towards her core, grazing over her gently through her thin underwear. She’s already wet and so warm, and Lysander shivers too as he gazes down at her. 

He takes a deep, slightly quivery breath and hooks his fingers around the edge of her underwear, pulling it down her legs. Before Beatrice has a chance to react to the fact that he’s seeing a part of her he really hasn’t seen before, he runs a finger up the center of her. She gasps at his touch and then he’s moving down to tease at her entrance. He’s bolder than she thought he would be, as direct in his actions as he is in his words.

Beatrice can feel his breath on her neck as he leans in to kiss the spot just below her jaw, and then the hand on her chest stills. They both pause for a moment as they look at each other, wondering at the line they’ve just crossed. She finds she’s not nervous like she thought she might be, the jitters she’s feeling are from pleasure and excitement rather than apprehension.

“Shall I continue?” Lysander asks, his finger circling but not quite entering her. 

“Yes, please.” 

He enters her slowly with one finger, his eyes trained to her face to watch for her reaction, “Are you sure?” 

She loves him for his gentleness and for making sure that she’s sure, but she wants this. She wants him.

“Yes.” She holds back a moan at the feeling of him slowly moving his finger in deeper. “Lysander, please.”

“Please what?” He pulls his finger out, then moves it back in and Beatrice turns her head to muffle a groan into his shoulder.

“Do that again.” 

So he does.

Beatrice has dreamt of this moment. She’s imagined his hands on her, his fingers in her, just like this, but now that it’s happening she can hardly believe it. She spreads her legs a bit wider and buries her hands in Lysander’s shirt, clutching at the fabric as she tries to stop herself from writhing against him.

A second finger joins the first and she’s unable to hold back her sounds as he begins to move them inside of her. He leans down to kiss her as he continues to move his fingers in tandem, his thumb moving up to rub at her. She realizes what he’s looking for and pulls away from the kiss for a moment.

“Just a little higher,” She instructs in a gasp, and he moves his finger up until there, right there, he circles her clit and she moans into his mouth as he kisses her again. Beatrice does her best to kiss him back but her mind is a bit fuzzy as his fingers continue to curl into her at a steady pace. He’s a quick learner as always and she finds herself on the edge after a few minutes.

“Beatrice, are you still alright?” Lysander asks, his eyes drifting to her face which looks slightly pained to his untrained eyes. 

“Yes, more than alright.” She looks down to watch his fingers at work. The sight of his fingers moving in and out of her nearly makes her come right then. She tries her best not to clamp her thighs shut around his hand as her legs tremble.

“I love being this close to you. You look beautiful like this, Beatrice.” Lysander’s voice is so quiet, if she hadn’t been inches from his face she wouldn’t have heard him. “I love your reactions.” 

“Lysander-” She starts, but then he curls his fingers in just the right way and her words are cut off into a gasp. 

“And the sounds you make.” Lysander’s fingers don’t falter in their circling as he converses with her. His tone sounds almost educational, like he’s making scientific observations about her behavior. He reaches out with his other hand to turn her face towards his and she meets his eyes again, noticing how much darker they’ve grown. “I find myself quite curious to know what you sound like when you orgasm.” 

“Oh,” She breathes in response as her eyes flutter closed. Only a moment later his curiosity is satisfied as she comes with his fingers still inside of her. She makes a noise that’s half a moan and half his name, and he presses a kiss to her cheek as he continues to move his fingers. As the warm feeling spreads throughout her body she lets herself lie limp against him, enjoying the moment of bliss. 

When she opens her eyes again he gently pulls his fingers out of her, inspecting his fingers with an inquisitive look. He brings them to his mouth to taste her and she watches with wide eyes. If she hadn’t just come she might be doing it again at the sight of Lysander with his fingers in his mouth, relishing the taste of her.

“You look so at peace.” Lysander gently brushes her hair out of her face, tucking an out of place strand behind her ear. His lips pull into her favorite smile, one he seems to reserve just for her. 

“I am, thanks to you, my love.” Beatrice’s face flushes as he stares at her so intently. A bit of her shyness returns and she looks away from him, but then he cups her face in his hands and she has no choice but to meet his eyes. They’re full of affection, and he looks so content as he smiles at her in the dim firelight. When he leans down to kiss her again she sighs against his lips.

“Where’d you learn to do that so well?” Beatrice asks. Lysander laughs in response, causing one of her eyebrows to raise in question.

“Books.”

“Books?”

“Yes, books. There are many rather, instructional, volumes which have been published since antiquity.” It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting but Lysander’s face is flushed pink, and Beatrice grins.

“You’ll have to show me some of these books of yours,” She says. “Maybe we can read one together.”

“Perhaps we should, we might both learn something new.” His tone is completely serious and Beatrice smiles up at him with a look of endearment. 

She reaches to hold one of his hands and her fingers trace over his scars with a featherlight touch. After a moment she gently brings his hand up to press a kiss to his palm. They lay in the calm silence, Beatrice still busy catching her breath and Lysander deep in thought. A few minutes later the last remaining log in the fireplace cracks loudly and Beatrice startles, the moment broken.

“I’ll get it.” Beatrice untangles her limbs from Lysander’s and stands up, trying not to blush as she knows he’s staring at her exposed ass. She hurriedly pulls her dress down and kneels by the side of the fireplace to add another log. She coaxes the fire with her magic a bit to help it along. When she turns back around Lysander is sitting up to watch her with an affectionate smile. He still looks pensive but when he opens his mouth to speak the words are not what she expects,

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes...”*

“Are you quoting poetry at me?” Beatrice wants to tease him, but the words sound so genuine when he says them.

She knows he isn’t simply trying to flatter her, but rather trying to find a way to convey his feelings for her. He continues to recite the words and she finds herself suddenly feeling quite emotional. She sits next to him on the couch, hiding her face in his shoulder so that he can’t see her face. When he’s done with the poem she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you.” Beatrice pulls back from his shoulder to look at him with only slightly watery eyes. She’s thanking him for more than just the poetry.

“You’re most welcome.” Lysander rubs a soothing circle on her back. “Would you like to keep reading?”

“I think I’m too tired to read,” She replies, and indeed has to stifle a yawn a moment later.

“Let’s get to bed then.” 

“Maybe I’ll regain some… energy, when we get there.” Beatrice tries her best to smirk in an alluring way, but he just laughs.

Lysander grins, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to laugh at you but that was the least seductive look you’ve ever given me.” 

He offers his hand to help her up from the couch and she frowns at him for a moment, but eventually takes it.

“I’ll show you seductive,” Beatrice grumbles as they walk down the hall to their room.

“Is that a promise?”

_____________________

*poem mentioned is “She Walks in Beauty” by Lord Byron, full poem here 

#spicy #lemon #because it’s now officially lyse’s birthday in certain time zones.. #here’s some vianan lemon #i know this is skipping an entire timeline but i think we all deserve some vianan lemon #happy birthday to lysander #beatrice is his gift #i know byron doesn’t fit the time period we’re gonna ignore it it’s fine #byron fits their aesthetic and i think lyse wouldn’t be a fan of romanticism as a movement until he falls for beatrice #and then he reads some cheesy love poetry and he’s like Oh i get it now #they’re bad at flirting ok they’re NERDS #vianan starts off slow but i promise i have many ideas for the two of them 👀 #please ignore my comma overuse i have a problem it’s incurable #vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #some fun stats about this fic: #102 commas; 25 mentions of hands #and nearly 30 minutes spent debating the use of the word 'ass'

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XXIX

Warnings: dark elements, dub/noncon sex

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The royal court begins their yearly progress.

Note: Steve’s darkness is starting to show y’all but now we getting messy up in here!!! Hope y’all enjoy as I work my but off moving oversize tv’s and helping boomers buy tech they don’t understand. ✌️

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

The royal progress set off at dawn. The king rode his tall black steed as you sat in an open carriage with several ladies. He was just ahead of you with his most favoured men; Lord Barnes sat stiffly upon his golden gelding and only nodded when spoken to. You tried not to look at him and instead focused on the winding roads.

Behind the nobles and their painted carriages followed the servants, their mules, and wagons full of luggage. Marion sat on one side of you and Beatrice the other. Joan and Mary sat across from you. Rose had left a week earlier for her confinement with Lord Alan. You missed her calmness; her confidence.

You were tired. Not just from the king and his list, but for the dream that had ripped you back into consciousness. That of you on your knees, the swordsman at your shoulder, the jeering crowd before you. You looked up and found the king to be your executioner but as he swung his blade his features distorted and it was Lord Barnes who would plunge his steel through your neck.

Then you awoke in the dark. Steven snored beside you, his nakedness barely covered by the twisted blankets. Your own made you shiver as you pulled a quilt over you. You laid awake until he stirred and wanted what he did every morning past.

Your body ached at the thought. His endless desire consumed you and every waking moment. You prayed that travel would see him distracted. 

He had, however, agreed to change the route of the progress upon your request. The night after your coronation, as you lay beneath his arm, you pet him and asked if he should let you visit your sister. He consented easily, sleepily even. But he remembered and Lord Edward sent word to his castle to have it prepared.

You stopped to eat at noon but pressed onto Priskham where Lord Reginald would host the first week of the progress. The estate was chosen for its proximity to the capital. It was dark when you approached the chubby noble's keep, the party was well worn from the day's ride. 

There was a flurry as guards and servants set about unpacking and surveying the sprawling yard. As you approached the king, Barnes was near and looked up from listening to his companion's whispered comments. His blue eyes sparked and flicked away.

Reginald's staff greeted him and the lord welcomed you and Steven to his abode with a bow as he guided a servant to show you first to your chambers. The king took your arm as you were led to the doors and Barnes stepped around you decisively. You had only seen him in passing since that night.

You tried not to think about it. About the look in his eyes. Was it judgment? Hurt? Hatred? You didn't know what was worse; the spite when he deigned to look at you or when he would refuse to.

You let Steven guide you after the servant. The chambers were fine enough. A round receiving chamber with long windows and an attached bedroom with a large bed and narrow hearth. A finely woven carpet matched the deep red drapes and there were fresh rushes upon the floor.

It wasn't long before you were abed. The king closed the door between the chambers as you listened to the servants unload the chests in the next. You wore nothing but a sleeping gown and rolled onto your side. The sun and the spring air had tired you.

Steven laid down beside you and you pretended to doze, hoping he would leave you be. He shimmied against you and wrapped his arm around you. He was naked, you could tell by the prod along your rear.

"Are you so tired, my queen?" He cooed.

You grumbled as if awaking suddenly. "I am, I do apologize."

"You needn't," He rubbed his nose against your hair. "You may stay as you are…" His hand floated over your thin gown and tugged it up your leg. "...I shall do all the work."

"Might we not wait until the morning?" You yawned. "It was a rather long day."

He chuckled into your hair as he snaked his other arm beneath you. You gasped as his fingers wrapped around your throat. He pressed his body to yours as he squeezed.

"Why do you continue to resist me even when we are wed, hmm? You would feign sleep to evade me?" His voice gritted dangerously. "As if you do not enjoy it as I do. As if you do not want it." He gathered your skirt around your waist and pushed your ass back into him. "You are not the maiden you were though it does rile me to imagine it thus."

He pushed between your legs and forced you to arch your back. He guided himself between your thighs and his head poked at your entrance. He shoved himself inside and you let out a whimper. You were dry and he did not hold back.

"I do not… I do try to be a good wife," You grabbed at his hand and he held you tighter until you could barely breath. 

"And so you will not deny me my marital right," He snarled. "Hmm? Waking or not I shall have you." He thrust sharply and you reached back to claw at his thigh. "So, while you might wish to rest it will not overrule me."

You were frightened as your vision sparkled and his hand did not move from your throat. His flesh clapped against yours as you heard a chest clatter atop another in the next room. He grunted as he carried on without heed to your struggles.

He turned you onto your stomach and smothered you against the mattress. He rutted into you as you found it harder to breathe with your face buried in the pillow. His weight and grip were worse as you suffocated beneath him.

The bed shook with every jerk of his hips. "Though you are just as delicious as our first night." He spoke into your hair as he plunged into you. "And every night hence."

The strength went out of you and you let him continue. It hurt but it would only be worse if you fought him. He grunted and groaned in your ear and sped up with each tilt of his hips.

He let go of your neck and pushed himself up with his hands on your shoulders. He pinned you as he pounded into you spasmodically. He let out a roar as he emptied himself in you.

He panted but didn't pull out as he lowered himself again. He rolled you with him back onto your side. He held you as his chest slowed. He hummed.

"Sleep now, my wife," He slithered. "You are learning." He pushed himself as deep as he could go. "But not quick enough."

👑

You awoke as the king pulled out of you. You slept heavily despite his lingering touch. You ached and felt cold without his warmth. Sticky too. Dirty.

He stood and stretched in the sunlight as it streamed between the curtains. He strode lazily into the bath chamber and emerged shortly after. He passed into the receiving chamber and returned with a silk robe around him. He offered you your own as he caressed your bare shoulder.

"I will send for our breakfast," He said as he stood straight and tied up his robe. "The men were hoping for a hunt today but there is time yet."

"A moment, husband," You rose and pulled on the robe. 

He retreated and you went to the bath chamber to wash between your legs. The water was cool but soothing. You closed your robe and swept back through, fighting not to show how sore you were.

The king sat at the round table as he rubbed his stubbled cheek. His beard was growing back fast. You sat and flinched as it sent a pang through you. You tucked your hands into your sleeves and stared at the table.

"Go on, my queen , it will be a while before our food is readied," He pushed his chair out slightly and leaned back. "Serve your king."

You swallowed dryly as you stared at him. He grinned and spread his legs so that his robe fell apart.

"Kneel for me."

You stood numbly and nearly fell to your knees. You walked on your knees to him. You kept your eyes down as you braced his legs and drew close. His hand brushed along your arm and to your face. He cradled your cheek and made you look at him.

"I was only curious as to what you'd learned, wife," He taunted. "Very much, I see."

You blinked at him and sat back on your heels. He took your hands in his and raised them to his lips as he bent.

"Take your seat. We shall eat before we begin our day."

You slipped your hands away and grabbed the table. You stood shakily. Embarrassed. Your stomach roiled to think he would debase you thus to prove his grasp upon you.

You sat again and he pulled his robe back over his lap. He watched you and you tried not to shy away. Queen in name only, you reminded yourself, queen upon his whim.

👑

As you finished your meal, rather pushed your food around the plate tentatively, the king spoke but you found it hard to listen. He didn't care much as long as the topic remained on him. You nodded dumbly and smiled when he paused. And then a rap came at the door.

Steven rose and adjusted his robe. You made to stand and retreat but he waved you down. You sat back and checked that your belt was secure. He opened the door and welcomed his guest with a smile.

"You're early," Steven boomed. "All the better. We have only these weeks of progress for our plans."

Lord Barnes stepped in and barely seemed bothered by the thinly clad king. Then he saw you. His cheek twitched. He turned away quickly and looked to Steven.

"I can come back later--"

"You are here now," The king resumed his seat and drank deeply from his goblet. "We have some left if you should like a plate."

"I've eaten, your highness," He answered as he followed reluctantly. "I should hate to intrude, or interrupt even."

"Interrupt what?" Steve smirked. "I promise my queen and I won't sate our appetites on more than these rashers."

Barnes sighed and pressed his lips together. "You don't seem the mind for business, your highness."

"Pull up the stool and let us begin before I am not," The king said tersely. "Or do you mistrust my queen?"

"Of course not, I--" Barnes stopped and turned to grab the cushioned stool a few feet away. He sat and kept his eyes to the king. "You read the letter?"

"At least thrice," Steven answered. "We will end our progress early upon our visit to Edward's estate and then we can port at Shell's Harth and make our voyage to Asgard from there."

You bristled at the mention of the maritime city. What had been your last hope. That which the man who now sat prickly beside you had stolen.

"And you do not worry… that the country might not welcome the man who did see their princess executed?" Barnes ventured.

"The cardinals passed the sentence, Not I," Steven shrugged.

"And the queen you replaced her with?"

"A queen nonetheless." Steven assured. "Why? Do you worry for my queen so?"

"I only worry for our people," Barnes countered. "I should hate to offend a powerful land such as Asgard."

"They did consent to the ruling. I see no issue to be had. Do you?" Steven stared at the noble.

Lord Barnes tilted his head slightly and smiled. It was dry and hard-fought. “No,” He said thinly. “I only do my duty as your adviser and your friend.” He peeked at you from the corner of his eye. “As your queen does her duty and you do yours.”

“Always so loyal, Buck,” The king praised. “You certain you wouldn’t like a rasher? A boiled egg?”

“I have little appetite.” Barnes replied.

You slowly stood and clutched the front of your robe to keep it from drooping. “My king, I think I should go change for our discussion.”

“Nonsense, you are modest enough,” He pointed to your chair. “There is nothing I see which should heed the time needed for such.”

You lowered yourself back to the chair and let out a shaky breath. The king barely seemed to notice as he leaned on his arm. His other hand glossed over his lap and you didn’t miss the twitch. You prayed the nobleman hadn’t noticed. The way he stared ahead sternly, you wondered if he saw anything but his own irritation.

“King Thor did invite us to Asgard, not the other way around,” Steven declared. “I should think a greater insult would be to deny him. And to have my new queen introduced alongside me cannot be a greater opportunity for the realm.”

“I worry we do not have the time to prepare,” Barnes replied. “I know it can be done but to arrange the ships by autumn and all that would be required will be most taxing. Wouldn’t you rather make the voyage so that we might arrive in our best light?”

“If you know it can be done, do it,” The king said. “I’d rather have it done with and be back to my people by next spring.”

“Very well,” Barnes nodded and picked at his cuff. “Is that all?”

“Hmm,” Steven trailed his fingers along his chin. “I suppose… well, there was one other matter.”

“Are we to change our route again for this progress?” Barnes wondered.

“No, not again,” Steven smiled as he felt his stubble. “It is a matter of confidence… between the three of us.”

Barnes looked between you. His brow wrinkled as he shook his head at the king. “I don’t understand. I won’t say a word of Asgard until we are able to secure the vessels and I receive confirmation from the king.”

“I speak of a different matter.” Steven dropped his hand and played with the silk along his knee. “What you witnessed during the coronation feast… our little… tryst you stumbled upon.”

“I don’t--” Barnes blanched as he shook his head again.

“I did hear footsteps and it did occur to me who it must be as it was not long before that I did meet you previously in the corridor.” The king seemed all too pleased to make his closest friend squirm. And you too. “And while I have little concern for the people and their gossip, I should hope you wouldn’t repeat what you saw to another. Perhaps in hopes of defaming my new queen.”

“I have no such intent.” Barnes said. “I shall forget I ever saw it.”

You fidgeted in your chair. You could barely hold your head up as your cheeks burned. He had known and carried on. And he hadn’t said a word. Had he gotten off on the intrusion? There was little that did not arouse him.

“See that you do forget it,” The king warned. “Now, we are done.”

“Your highness,” Barnes stood and bowed, turned to you, and repeated himself.

He marched awkwardly to the door. With each step, he went faster and disappeared swiftly into the hall. The door clattered behind him and left you in silence. You looked to Steven as he stared at you across the table.

“You saw him,” He said. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… was embarrassed, my king, and I did try to stop you but--”

“But you said nothing.” He insisted.

“I was… scared. My king, I know that I should have but I was unsure how to say it.” You slid forward on your seat as you beseeched him. “Are you angry with me?”

“Angry? No.” He was still smiling. “Because, my wife, I know you to be loyal and honorable to a fault. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes, yes,” You stood and whisked across to him. You took his hand in yours and kissed it. “My king, did I not save my virtue for you? Did I not swear myself to you? Did I not wait for you as you did for me?”

“You did, yes,” He turned his hand over and grabbed yours. He drew you between his legs as he looked up at you. He pulled you down into his lap and played with the silk trim of your robe. “It is not you who concerns me, my wife.”

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #au #medieval au #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

[rocket-remmy]

My Sanctuary || Luce, Nell and Remmy (Feat. Bea)

TIMING: Before the First of the year PARTIES: @nelllraiser @divineluce @beatrice-blaze and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Remmy assembles the Vural sisters to cast a spell on the Mansion and make it into a true sanctuary.

Remmy paced the outside of the house, trying to make sure they had everything Nell had asked them to get. It wasn’t much, she said they were going to bring most of the ingredients, and Remmy was completely okay with that-- but they also didn’t want to make the Vural sisters do all the work. They were going to be doing most of it, anyway. In fact, Remmy already felt a bit useless, but they didn’t have magic, and they couldn’t do magic at all. Being undead prevented them from that, from even being able to give to a spell. Just like with the bracelet Nell had made them, all they could do was rely on others. But, in all their time in White Crest, relying on others was the one thing they’d determined was okay to do. Accepting help didn’t have to be a big thing, and they were starting to believe, now, that they deserved it. That they deserved good things. And making the mansion into a sanctuary was one of the good things they wanted to leave behind. They had just finished their second round of checking the outside of the house when they saw Nell, Luce and Bea pulling up to the house. They waved and trotted over to them. It’d been a while since they’d seen all three of them together-- Nell’s birthday party being the last time, and even then, the three had been spread out among the people. “Thanks for coming,” they said, giving a hearty smile, “I uh-- don’t know what all you guys will need, so I just sorta...made sure everything was in working condition. And clean.” Did cleanliness affect spells? They didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt, right? “So, what first? How can I help?”

Stepping out of the driver’s side of her 4x4, Luce glanced at the Haunted Mansion. She’d been here before, many times in fact, but being here now, with her sisters? And with things being what they were with Remmy? It was… uncomfortable to say the least. But, Remmy needed their help. And she wanted to help. She wanted to do something fucking good. She needed to make amends, right the karmic scales that loomed over her. As Remmy came up to them, Luce kept her face impassive as she stared at the side of the house, as though she was taking stock of the size for the spell they were going to cast. “Clean works.” She said shortly before glancing over at Bea and Nell. They were the ones who knew more about this sort of thing. She was just here to help. To fan the flames. Her fingers twitched at her sides and she forced herself to hold still. She had to be able to help, had to be able to channel her magic. She could do this. “I don’t think we’ll need your help. Bea, Nell?” She said, looking to her sisters. 

Hopping down from Luce’s Jeep, Nell was careful not to jostle the supplies she was carrying, having no interest in dropping any of them and possibly having to start the preparation over. Sanctuary spells were tricky and generally intricate, not to mention needy when it came to power supply. “Clean’s great,” Nell commented, trying to offer conversation that wasn’t the painfully awkward energy Luce was offering in response to Remmy’s words. “We could probably do an energy cleansing as well- just to make sure we’re starting with a nice, clean slate on that front. We brought plenty of sage for it. It’s homegrown, so don’t worry about the over-sourcing of it.” Trying to think of something for Remmy to do, Nell came across something that might actually be helpful. “You could help us position the logs in the circle around the house,” she offered, jerking a thumb towards the pile of massive tree trunks they’d left here another day for the spell. “Super strength would probably be handy there while we fiddle around with it magically.”

Remmy watched the three of them unpack from the car and come over and begin setting stuff up. Luce was still acting distant and they decided to ignore her for now. Smiling over at Nell, they gave a little wave. “Ooh, yeah! I mean, if you think you can do it. I don’t wanna push y’all to do more than you want, or like...getting too overworked and stuff.” They looked between them all before nodding. “Oh, yeah! I can definitely do that! Logs,” the snapped at Nell, “got it.” They went over to the pile they’d left and started rolling the logs into position. Their brain was made for this, really. Setting things up and calculating distances. Whatever the mansion became, they knew that it was going to be good, even if they weren’t here with it. They hadn’t told anyone they were thinking about leaving yet, but they wanted to tell Luce after all of this. She deserved to know first. And then Nell. They remembered fondly the first time they’d met-- back in that dingy bathroom, with Blanche, when they were making the bracelet. The one that was nestled on their wrist at the moment. It was more of a memento, now, than an actual charm. They blinked when they realized they’d been staring too long and went back to rolling logs. When they finished, they came to stand by Nell and Luce. “What next?”

Luce rummaged through the supplies that Nell had brought with them, taking a bundle of herbs from the bag along with some large charcoal sticks. She needed to be in touch with her element for this to work and while she hated the idea of having to break out the training wheels, her magic… it wasn’t what it used to be. Glancing over at Bea, she wondered if she should bring it up to her sister. But, Bea had her own burdens to bear. And Luce wasn’t going to add to that. Holding tightly to the end of one of the sage bundles, she tried to tap into her magic, willing the spark to form in the center of the leaves. It took longer than she wanted, the flames needing to be coaxed out and encouraged to take, but the end of the herbs began to smoke and burn. She cleansed the area while Remmy set the logs out and once the sage had burned out, she tossed it aside, the fire dying almost immediately. “So, next steps… We need the buggane tusk and carve the runes of sanctuary into it.” Luce said, more to the air than directly to Remmy. “Sounds good?”

Once Luce, Remmy, and Bea were done with their bits of setup— Nell began to walk the circle of trees, pulling a buggane tusk from their pile of supplies to bring with her. Every now and then she stopped along the way to bend and carve runes into the wood of the fresh wood, speaking determined words of power over them. For a moment they glowed purple before sinking back into the normality of scarred tree bark, the magic symbols an off-white that stuck out against the darker wood surrounding them. As Nell worked she focused her intentions carefully, knowing how important this was to Remmy, and how important it would be to those that came to seek refuge and safety in this place. They’d find solace here, and hopefully a serenity that would bring them peace in the end. That was her wish for those that would walk the walls of the mansion. As she walked back to her sisters, she kept a string of her magic alive- turning to Luce when she paused beside her. “Alright- light her up.”

Remmy looked between the three sisters, watching Nell head off to begin...whatever it was she was doing. They didn’t really pretend to know much about magic, because they didn’t, and they enjoyed watching and learning more than trying to figure out what was going on themself. Luce idled near them for a moment before she went off to do her part of the inscribing, and Bea joined after a bit as well. They looked around, admiring the moment for a second. Remembering how they met each of the three sisters individually. Nell had been the first, so it was no wonder they were close friends now. They’d been through so much together-- the beach attack, joining the Ring, getting taken together, fighting their way out, helping take Roy down, and so much more in between. There was no one Remmy trusted more with this place than Nell. 

They’d met Bea second. The slight embarrassment from it still lingered in Remmy’s cheeks when they remembered how they’d talked on Tinder, and they hadn’t known the entire time that Bea and Nell were sisters. And when they’d found out, later, when they’d found out Luce was her sister, too, they’d just made more of a fool of themself. But Bea was a constant in their life, even if just on the periphery. She was always there for Nell and Blanche, two of the most important people to Remmy. And that made her important to them as well.

They’d met Luce last, and yet she’d been the Vural that had wormed her way fastest into Remmy’s heart. From the moment they’d met Luce, they’d thought she was someone truly amazing. Her art was inspirational, and her smile was infectious. She’d accepted them as they were for who they were, and whether she’d ever admit it or not, she cared deeply for them. And they cared deeply for her, too. Which was probably why they looked upon her now with a sense of sorrow. Finally, they all recongregated and Nell motioned for Luce to light the fire and start the spell. Remmy looked over at Luce and gave a nod. “Go for it.”

Luce followed her sisters’ lead, going through the motions, letting the other two take the reins as she tried to focus on her magic. Ever since… Lydia, she’d lost her fire. She’d lost the flames that used to come so easily to her and nothing she’d done had brought it back. Helping Adam had nearly been a disaster, trying to scry and see Remmy had only summoned the ghostly spectre of Nadia, nothing was working. None of it was working. But it had to work now. She had to help Remmy, had to do something good for them. Because so much of what she’d done had only ever hurt them. As Nell finished up the last of her runes and Remmy cast her a nod, Luce took a deep breath and reached for the fire.

It was there, but it wasn't at the same time. The fire was burning low, wounded and dying inside her. Her will was strong, her need for the flames to come to her stronger than it had ever been. It didn’t matter, the flames wouldn’t rise. The bundle of herbs she’d lit to cleanse the area smoldered, but they weren’t ablaze. The wood wasn’t catching. Luce gritted her teeth as she tried to bring forth the anger that usually brought on the fire. But, that felt wrong. She couldn’t create a sanctuary spell with the same hate that had flowed through her body when she’d burned Lydia, when she’d hunted Monty, when she’d handed August over, when she’d decided the fate of lives that weren’t her own. She wanted this to be good, she wanted her magic to stand for something better than she was, she wanted to create a spell that could be what Remmy needed. This place was going to be a sanctuary, a place of peace. Someplace that people could turn to when the world was against them-- just like Remmy had been to her. With a deep breath, Luce’s hands rose of their own accord and the scent of crackling ozone filled the air as electricity sparked between her fingers. Love. Protection. Peace. Family. With her sisters beside her and Remmy behind, Luce sent streaks of lightning across the circle they’d created, igniting it into bright flames. “There we go.” She breathed, relief washing over her.

Nell could still remember the first time she’d met Remmy huddled on the floor of Blanche’s dingy bathroom floor, barely understanding what was happening let alone how to escape it. Together, the three of them had created a spell of safety, a way for Remmy to go on and find the life they deserved without being needlessly murdered, charged for crimes they hadn’t even yet committed. From there the pair’s friendship had grown effortlessly, and in the end it hadn’t been Nell saving Remmy from the Ring, but the pair of them saving each other— both refusing to leave one another behind, finishing everything together. That was what others deserved. The chance to be saved. The chance to find safety among friends and others of their kind in the mansion, a place where violence wouldn’t be viable. To finish together. 

That was what Nell thought of as the smoke rose from the burning wood, billowing above the mansion as the spell began to form and she chanted the words of protection and serenity along with Bea. As she spoke the smoke began to shift, and instead of rising into the sky it created a cushion of grey about the mansion, as if it was shielding it from prying eyes, from those who might seek to hurt its inhabitants. The wisps of cinder seemed determined to get into every nook and cranny of the house, making itself at home. And once it had touched every surface it could find, the smoke began to dissipate, finally releasing into the sky above without leaving a single trace of its presence behind. Nell’s shoulders sagged as the spell completed, her hand going a little limp in Bea’s hand as she felt the enormous batch of energy leave her. “Alright...that should be it, then.” She’d have to leave behind care instructions for the spell. After all a piece of magic this big couldn’t go long without being maintained. “There’s your sanctuary,” Nell said with a suddenly tired smile. 

As Remmy watched, a sense of peace fell over them. As the smoke billowed up and around and enclosed the house, they felt as if it were happening to them, too. They watched with bated breath as it covered the mansion and slowly seeped in, becoming a part of the house itself. Creating a place in which supernaturals could be safe and feel the same. A place they wished they’d had. There would be no hunters here, no pain, no Lydia’s hiding dark secrets in the basement. No Alain’s looking at them with disdain and disgust. No Jax’s, using their words against them, trapping them within their own hell. This would be a place of only peace, of only sanctuary, of only safety. Remmy closed their eyes and let out a long, deflating sigh of relief. They could almost swear they felt Nell and Bea’s and Luce’s energies swirling in the ether around them, and they smiled, so peaceful, and breathed in the air.

When Nell spoke, they opened their eyes and glanced at the three of them. “Thank you,” they said simply, “I owe all of you a lot, and this means so much to me. Right now all I have is thank you. And some free food if you want it. Nora had a bunch of extra meat so I cooked up a stew if you want any inside.” A cheeky grin, as they ushered them all in for their thank you payment. But before Luce could go, Remmy reached to grab her hand, tugging. “Wait,” they asked quietly, “can we talk first?” 

Because while the spell might have been done, and the mansion saved-- there were still things Remmy needed to say. Leaving was never easy, but they knew it was the right thing. And Luce deserved to know, too. They all deserved better than life had given them, and this was only the start.

#chatzy #chatzy: nell #chatzy: luce #my sanctuary #chatzy: bea #wickedswriting #nell #luce #bea

[badolmen]

tysm to everyone who has interacted with this fun lil fic - your likes, reblogs, and comments never cease to make me smile!  who’s ready for the spooky season? @billy-hoepe @bonniebunz @softupshur and @bandtrees I hope y’all’re doing well and taking care of yourselves <3

Chapters: First, 2, 3, 4, 5

Billy had been to churches before. Old ones, new ones, small ones, big ones, bright ones, dark ones, and places of worship of every denomination. He had slept on pews and stone stairs when the doors were locked. He had spent many Christmas nights bathing in the warmth of candles and songs, the midnight mass providing respite from the bitter winter if only for a few hours.

He didn’t understand churches, of course. His mother murmured of being raised Baptist on occasion or spit angry curses at Catholic and Mormon ex-boyfriends. She would mutter negative sentiments to cultures and beliefs he had no concept of outside of his mother’s warped and hate filled snarls at the television.

Billy knew nothing of worship or prayer or faith.

Sometimes, in Mount Massive, he wished a god would answer his prayers. Sometimes he was sure there was no god listening at all. He wondered, on dark nights and rainy days, that if he had learned prayer the higher powers would listen, that if he had faith, any faith at all, he would hear a response.

The phantom that scratched at the back of his mind didn’t bring any revelations with the pain it caused – it was just static, a ghost and whisper of hate that drove ice into Billy’s thoughts when he tried to explore the concept of the being that shared the same corporeal form as him.

This church was old and big but marred with minor disrepair. The main tower was wrapped in blue tarps to keep out the rain, and the shingles shuddered in the wind. The red brick had been stained a deeper crimson by the moisture, almost seeming to bleed into the gray concrete below.

Blood, smeared across the walls and floors and the stink of rotting flesh and freshly dead meat and insects and flies and maggots and –

“Here we are,” The driver hummed, her car groaning to a halt on the street in front of the massive building. Miles said her name was Beatrice. “I’d walk you in, but…” She trailed off, eyeing the rivulets of rain cascading down her windshield. “Just go right in and head to the room behind the altar, at the back of the building. We gave Fr. Kos the heads up so he should be waiting for y’all.”

“Thank you,” Miles said, stiffly nodding to Beatrice. Billy could feel the tension rising in the man like a spring coiled tighter and tighter. Exhaustion, too. “You good to go Billy? Probably best to make a run for it in this weather.”

“Good to go,” Billy whispered, swallowing back the metallic taste in his mouth. Had talking always hurt this much? Dr. Wernicke complained that he talked too much in their sessions. Maybe he finally fixed that problem.

“Alright then,” Miles grunted, car door opening and closing as he rushed the building. Billy tried to follow in suit but startled at the slam of the car door and tripped over his own wobbly legs while trying to scale the stone steps. Miles reached out, catching him before he collapsed at the top of the stairs.

With an exchange of thumbs up between Beatrice and Miles, the car sputtered away from the curb, leaving the two clinging to each other beneath the eaves.

The door was big, dark and solid wood heavy enough to make Miles’ face twist up in pain as he held the door open for Billy to shuffle inside. But the door closed softly, mechanism clicking in place the two stood in the warmth of the hallway between the church and the outside world.

“Man, forgot to ask if this is the back of the church or if the other end is…” Miles muttered, trying to find a comfortable way to hold his hands. Blood had seeped through his bandages.

“…think it’s this way,” Billy breathed, trying his hardest to keep his voice soft. It hurt less to whisper than to speak. He held open the inner door for Miles and the two treaded quietly across the carpeted floors toward the altar.

The church was empty and quiet save for their breathing and the quiet light of a few candles.

Billy’s eyes searched the many corners and peaks of the vaulted ceiling for cameras – Miles was probably doing the same as the pair slowly made their way toward the door beside the altar. But there were no cameras to be found. The fog that usually clouded Billy’s thoughts seemed to lift, or at least offer a shimmer of relieved clarity.

The door they were walking to opened, and the pair tensed.

“Oh, didn’t mean to startle you,” Billy couldn’t place the accent, but the voice was lighter than he thought it would be. The men or women in black who stood on the altar and wore colorful robes always had hard voices, sometimes even angry. But this man’s voice was soft and gentle. “I’m Father Kos – or Father Sebastian, whichever you care for, you are Miles and Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” Miles said, voice still tight even as his posture relaxed. “Yeah, I’m Miles, he’s Billy. This is Saint Gobnait’s?”

“Correct, come, this way. I’m sure you two will want to warm up,” The man in black stepped back into the room, gesturing that they follow. Miles paused, only for a moment, before stalking toward the entry. Billy kept close behind, eyes still wandering across the stained glass and statues of the building.

This room was warmer, but not by much. Father Kos had begun descending down a flight of stairs, black shoes clicking against the wood.

“Ah,” He sighed, noticing Miles pause again. “There’s a short tunnel to the rectory basement. Would you rather go outside again?”

“Yes,” Miles was quick to answer, curtly nodding to the man. Billy did not want to go outside again – the ice in his thoughts had made a home in his bones and every step felt like he was standing on nails. But he couldn’t tell Miles that fast enough, so he nodded in agreement.

“Alright, here,” Father Kos said, taking an umbrella from beneath his black coat. “Use my umbrella, it’s not far but it would –” He muttered a word Billy did not understand, before gesturing vaguely to the door that led outside. “Bah, never mind, follow me.”

The umbrella was small, so Billy stayed close to Miles’ side, careful not to jostle the man too much as they walked. Miles’ hands kept shaking, bandaged fingers struggling to get a comfortable grip on the handle.

Father Kos seemed unperturbed by the down pour, heavy black coat soaked, and glasses blurred by the time they reached the rectory, a small white building beside the brick church. The trio shook rain from their shoes at the doorway, a breath of blessed warmth working its way into Billy’s aching bones.

“Oh, is that the – Father! You’ll catch your death, go, go take a warm shower and get some dry clothes on –”

“This is Sister Francis, Sister, this is Miles and Billy, the one’s Carolyn’s Place called about,”

Billy shrank behind Miles, hoping to seem small. The woman was shorter than him, stout with a round face and liver spotted cheeks. Her voice was grating and hard, the static in the back of his mind hissed like water on an electric burner.

“I can introduce myself, Father. Go warm up the shower, and try not to track too much water in here,”

“Yes, yes,” The man’s lighthearted laugh calmed some of the building static in Billy thoughts. “What’s for lunch Sister?”

“McDonalds or Burger King; it depends on our guests,” Francis’ voice had softened, the crow’s feet at her eyes becoming more apparent as she smiled.

“I vote for Burger King – they have better fish,”

“Dully noted,” Francis sighed as Father Kos slowly made his way up the staircase. “Leave the umbrella by the door – goodness knows this rain won’t let up anytime soon,”

“That what the weather is saying?” Miles said, voice relaxing as the older woman limped down the hall.

“Yes, flood warnings – very strange for this time of year. Did you hear about the bugs down in Arizona? Flock of locust; they blotted out the sun just yesterday and then poof! No one knows where they went.”

“That…is strange,” Miles breathed, beckoning Billy to follow them as they made their way down the carpeted hall.

“The kitchen’s right there – don’t be in there when I’m cooking, Father might not mind but it’s a small space and I’d rather not smack you with a pan of potatoes by accident.” Francis said in a practiced tone, waving to the small oven and refrigerator for a brief moment before continuing the slow walk down the hall.

Billy didn’t bother looking in the room, his eyes trained on the back of Miles’ head. It was warm – cozy and comforting. The air smelled like dust and the faintest trace of smoke – and mixed with the blood and sweat of Miles’ jacket, it almost smelled like home.

#outlast #outlast fanfiction #miles upshur #billy hope #outlast whistleblower #outlast 2 #outlast ii #me. making segues to outlast 2: guys trust me its connected. just trust me. we'll get there eventually.