#the fear and concern in bea's face

[simplykorra]

beatrice + never letting go

[eowynstwin]

reviewing the prelude

previous - neighbors - next

John misses you.

There is no noise next door.

Silence, in Price's line of work, almost always precludes trouble. The quiet stalk of a fireteam toward an objective; the abrupt halt of an informant’s intel. Never good. Always the guarantee of a day’s bad end.

Usually, he can hear the creak of your mattress as you get up—the thing must be ancient, and he’s concerned for your back—and the rumble of your plumbing as you turn on the sink first thing in the morning. You’re always up about an hour and a half after he is, close to eight-thirty, and you usually meet him outside about an hour later. Slow riser, you are.

(He tries not to fantasize too much about tiptoeing around in the mornings as you snuggle in his bed, wrapped in his blankets as he gets breakfast ready for the both of you.)

But today there’s not a whisper of your horrible bedsprings from the other side of the wall. The pipes remain silent. When he steps outside today, he will be alone.

You’re gone for two days. He can handle that long. He can.

Still, he lingers in bed the first morning, agitated, too warm in the sheets but stubbornly trying to act like he’s still perfectly comfortable. It doesn’t work. The bed linens dampen as he starts sweating, and his morning wood is more insistent than it usually is. He sighs and gets up, lays the blankets back to let them air dry, and gets his day started.

Once he’s in the shower, and the water has warmed enough to step into, John angles the shower head to spray a little higher and leans against the cool tile wall. Hot water pounds his chest, streaming down between his pectorals and over the jumping muscles of his stomach as he takes his cock in hand and gives it a stroke from head to root. He closes his eyes.

John does not have any shame in jerking off, not really, but a niggling something always tickles the back of his mind when he thinks of you while doing it. Like he’s being too pushy, even in his own head, when he knows that you’re not on the same page as him yet.

He shouldn’t be thinking of your hand wrapped around him instead, as his fingers cover your clit and dip into your cunt, when he’s not even sure you will have him at all. John does not like to indulge in fantasy that cannot become reality.

I wanted to touch you. John snarls, bucking into his hand.

He hadn’t lied to you. He hadn’t. He can wait as long as you need. If he gets to have you, he wants you eager. He wants you certain. He wants you to relax into him without fear or doubt. Whatever he wants from you is secondary to that—he can’t enjoy himself, enjoy you, if you don’t trust him.

Would you trust him if you knew you inspired his hand to wrap around his cock?

He doesn’t know. He’s not sure. All he knows is that after he left that night, you did the exact same thing he’s doing now. That has to mean something.

He remembers it—your distant cry making it to him through drywall, insulation, and the patter of his own shower, and if he closes his eyes he can almost fool himself now, as hot water slides down his back and chest, that he can hear it again—

I wanted to touch you—

He comes, short and hard, palm sliding fast up and down his shaft, groaning roughly as his cum hits the tile. Water streams down around his face in steady rivulets, joining it.

He wants you to trust him. He wants you to let him spoil you rotten.

Turning the water off once he finishes his shower, John keeps thinking as he absently towels off. He keeps getting the sense that there’s something he’s missing.

If you want him—and he knows now, you do want him—why haven’t you said anything? He thinks about all of the times he’s tried to flirt, tried to make his interest known, only for you to treat it like a joke. Incorrigible, you call him, as if his overtures are the result of some unsatisfied appetite. As if you haven’t, from the very start, given him every reason imaginable to want you.

He studies himself in the bathroom mirror as he touches up his beard, remembering the linger of your gaze across his body. He is not a vain man, not quite, but even he might like to preen a bit over how good he looks for pushing forty. He can’t keep up with Ghost at the racks, nor Gaz on the track circuit, and Soap has him beat at the punching bags, but Price has logged every personal best within the last three years. His shoulders are broad, his chest hard and defined, and his waist tapers nicely down to wide thighs and full calves.

He runs a hand across his stomach. He’d never managed, though, to get the cut look he sees in perfume ads and superhero movies these days. Is that what women like now? Is that what you like?

If it was a complete lack of attraction on your part, he’d understand. But Price is a details man. He misses nothing, especially when it comes to you. The way you look at him, the way you move around him reveals more than he knows you ever intend to. He hears your breath shorten when he’s close, sees your pupils dilate, your brows soften. You don’t lean away when he leans in.

He remembers your gaze again, the first morning and many mornings after, and snorts at himself. Attraction, he’s fairly sure, isn’t the issue.

So what is, then?

Rather than spend the morning moping, and waiting for the ambiance of your morning routine that simply would not come, John finds a clean pair of sweats, laces into his trainers, and goes for a jog. Running has always helped him think.

Part of him wonders if his fixation is inspired in part by a long dry spell. Price hasn’t been with anyone in a long while—months, actually. His last encounter had been with a woman he’d been casually seeing in between deployments.

She’d been nice enough, certainly eager for him. They would meet, have drinks, maybe a meal, and have sex. He’d spend the night and leave early in the morning. They didn’t talk much, not at least about anything serious. She never asked about his work. She never really asked much about him at all.

Which had been the arrangement. Price had been candid about his situation from the beginning—his work came first, and he had little room in his life for much else. He couldn’t offer her much in the way of long-term commitment when he had to make peace with the real possibility that each deployment was one he might not come back from. She’d seemed to understand. It had taken Price a while to figure out that she just…hadn’t really cared.

It was more likely, he knew, that she simply could not grasp that he could die. Few civilians could really wrap their head around that fact. He couldn’t really blame her for that.

But he couldn’t deny either that seeing her had started to make it feel like his insides were slowly decaying. All he was to her was a big, rough man who would throw her around in bed and wouldn’t bother her with trite things like domesticity and mortality. A fantasy. Nothing more.

He’d broken it off in person, frank and respectful, and she’d taken it as well as he’d hoped.

Then she’d texted him a few weeks later inviting him over for drinks. He neglected to respond and blocked her number.

The cool morning air is sharp in Price’s lungs, painfully welcome, as he counts his breaths in the back of his head. He’d given up after all of that. He didn’t need sex. He didn’t need a relationship. If the walls of his flat closed in around him when he was home, alone, well—that was the sacrifice, wasn’t it? The price he paid to be able to go out into the world and fix things that other men only complained about after watching the news.

It shouldn’t matter that these days those problems didn’t stay fixed anymore.

Price finishes his circuit and comes to a gradual stop back at his front doorstep, panting hard, hands on hips as he heaves and wonders if maybe he should cut back on smoking.

He looks to your window, dark and shuttered. You always have a hot mug of coffee pressed between your palms.

He could try coffee.

The day passes. John spends some time getting his affairs in order for the end of his leave, reads the latest book you’ve lent him (a retrospective on the rise and fall of the American cattle boom), spends an hour at the gym, two at the pub, and comes home again to dark windows next door.

It’s dull. He misses you. And once his front door closes behind him, hours of silence loom in the periphery.

He’s settling into his armchair for a game on TV—championship league, nothing worth paying attention to, John just can’t stand the quiet—when his phone, deep in his pocket, vibrates. When he pulls it out, his heart leaps.

It’s just a text message. He unlocks his phone and navigates to the chat. You’ve sent a photo: a glass, filled with some sort of liquor and a couple of ice cubes, set on a rickety old plank of wood that must be a table.

Ordered this in your honor. Pretty good! Not sure of the brand. Can’t remember the one we got either

John smiles. He can’t help it. He even laughs a little, and taps on the picture to zoom in—your hand is in the frame, laying gently alongside the glass, nails painted a pretty light color and a thin silver ring around your index finger. He takes this in with the voracity of a man starving.

Macallan, he replies. The best. That looks good though

Three dots dance as you type. My coworker says it’s Johnnie Walker

I take it back, dump that swill on the ground, Price types, grinning harder.

It’s really fine! you protest.

He imagines your expression, the kind draw of your brows together in spirited defense—an expression he’s seen on you many times, advocating for some character or another that he has developed a grudge against.

God, does he miss you.

Fine for uni lads maybe, he sends.

You do remember who I’m supervising on this trip?

John snorts. Point taken. Then, impulsively, I’ll get you something even better when you’re home.

Home. When you’re home. As if home is one place, and not two, separate places merely conjoined.

You spoil me John

He sends back immediately, I’m trying to

There’s a lag. John realizes belatedly that perhaps he’s doing it again, coming on too strong. He can’t help it. When he knows what he wants—when he knows he can pursue it—he does not bother with half measures. He has been through and done too much to hedge his efforts while knowing how easily things can escape his grasp.

He has to remind himself that holding onto you too tightly, though, could cause you to slip through his fingers.

Then, finally—I don’t know why

Bells ring in John’s head. Can’t a man treat a woman he fancies? he asks.

Dots jump for what feels like several minutes, disappearing several times. He imagines you typing rapidly, that worried look he’s seen so often creasing your brow and tightening the corners of your mouth.

Eventually, a cascade.

I don’t know WHY you fancy me

There’s nothing really interesting about me

I’m quite boring

Not like you

You’ve been so to many places and done so many things and I’ve never even left the country and I don’t see how you could even like talking to me much less do anything else

I teach lit and read books and that’s all my life is and that’s not really sexy

You must have better options

I may be a little tipsy sorry

John’s frown deepens with every successive message.

This is it. This is the answer to his question, or it’s somewhere in there. He’s been wondering all day—now, this is his chance.

I’d like to call you, he replies. Is now a good time?

A brief pause, with John’s stomach hanging suspended in the air the whole time.

Then, Yes

He dials you. You pick up on the first ring.

“Hello,” you say.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 384. brb x oc

a/n: as mentioned before,I'll take my break once i finish the fic :,) it wont take long. thank you for staying <3 (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: just some suggestive stuff uwu

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

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363/364/365/366

/367/368/369/370/371/372/373/374/375/376/377/378/379/380/381/382/383/

(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 @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

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

@lyn-js

-

He was frowning because of course he was.

They got to the hotel and he lied on the bed immediately,sure, the flight was…not great and his back was screaming in pain. It was a long ass flight, and he was somewhat glad they had four hours before his reunion.

Maybe he should just sleep.

“Baby?’ Bea calls from the bathroom,folding her clothes on her arm, “Everything okay?”

He sighs again, running his hands up and down his face, eyes locked on the blank ceiling as he tries to calm himself, “I am getting old.”

Beatrice blinks, “What? What are you talking about?”

“My back is just…killing me.”

She blinks again, then furrows her brows, tossing her folded clothes aside so she could walk over to him, “Hey,” she coos gently, slowly climbing on his lap - glad that he immediately cupped her hips - “What’s wrong? Are you really hurt?”

He tsks quietly, “...no.” he frowns more, “I think I’m finally…” and a shaky inhale, “Getting more nervous about this. About the reunion.”

Beatrice's heart sank at Rooster's words, her concern deepening as she looked into his troubled eyes. She gently caressed his cheek, her touch tender as she tried to reassure him.

"Hey," she whispered softly, her voice filled with love and understanding, "It's okay to feel nervous. This reunion means a lot to you, and it's natural to have some jitters."

Rooster nodded, his jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his emotions. "I know," he murmured, his voice strained, "...What if I don't…what if…I don’t know, what if it’s just a mistake to be here?"

Beatrice's heart ached at the fear in Rooster's voice, her own insecurities bubbling to the surface. She took his hands in hers, squeezing them gently as she looked into his eyes with a small smile.

"You are amazing," she said firmly, her voice with conviction, "And anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve you, not even a glance. You've accomplished so much, Rooster, and you have nothing to prove to anyone."

Rooster's eyes softened at Beatrice's words, feeling a sense of warmth wash over him as he looked at her. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude, "You always know how to calm me down."

Beatrice smiled tenderly at Rooster, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "That's what I'm here for," she whispered, her voice filled with love, "You know that.”

He smiles, twirling a strand of brown hair in his finger, letting it go,watching as it bounced back into shape, “...I know.” he whispers “...I shouldn’t be nervous.”

“But it’s okay that you are.”

“I’ve been nervous since I got invited,Bea.” he whispers, looking at her necklace instead of her face ‘...I want to deal with this for myself, but I’m also worried this will be worse than I expect it to be.”

Beatrice listened attentively to Rooster's words, her heart aching for him as he struggled with his nerves. She reached out to gently lift his chin, guiding his gaze to meet hers with a soft smile.

"It's understandable," she said gently,, "Facing the past can be daunting, especially when it's tied to memories that aren't all pleasant…”

He exhales quietly, rubbing her sides up and down, then arching his brows, “...how did you feel before you got to your reunion?”

“Like death.”

Rooster lifts his head up “That bad?”

Beatrice chuckled softly at Rooster's surprised expression, shaking her head with a playful grin. "Maybe not that bad," she admitted, "But pretty close. I was nervous, anxious, and a little scared, to be honest."

Rooster's brow furrowed in concern as he listened to Beatrice's words, his fingers stilling on her sides. "Really?" he asked softly, "...I mean,I knew you were nervous…you told me so,honey. But…”

Beatrice smiled wistfully, her eyes reflecting memories of her own struggles with insecurity. "I may have seemed calm on the outside," she explained, "But on the inside, I was a bundle of nerves. I worried about how people would perceive me, if I would measure up to their expectations…"

Rooster's his fingers gently traced circles on her back in a soothing gesture. "You always measure up and then some," he murmured, "You're the most incredible person I know."

Beatrice's cheeks flushed at Rooster's words, feeling a rush of warmth flood her chest. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude, "But even so, I still had my doubts. It's hard not to when you're faced with your past."

Rooster nodded in understanding, his heart going out to Beatrice as he listened to her share her feelings. "Yeah," he murmured, "It's like…no matter how much you've grown and changed, there's always that fear that you'll revert back to who you used to be."

Beatrice nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with understanding. "Exactly," she replied softly, "But you know what helped me? Knowing that I had you by my side, every step of the way. Just like you have me now."

He smirks softly, “...I was deployed,babe…”

Beatrice smiled softly at Rooster's remark, her eyes sparkling with affection as she looks down. "I know," she replied with a chuckle, "But you were still with me in spirit. And your love meant everything to me, even from halfway across the world."

Rooster's smirk softened into a tender smile as he gazed at Beatrice, feeling a swell of love in his chest. "I'm glad," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity, "Because I'll always be here for you, no matter where I am."

Beatrice's heart fluttered at Rooster's words, feeling a rush of warmth wash over her. "I know," she whispered, reaching out to squeeze his hand, "And I'll always be here for you too, no matter what."

They sat together in companionable silence, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air between them.  Rooster leaned in to press a tender kiss to Beatrice's forehead, his touch gentle and reassuring. "We'll get through this together," he murmured, his voice filled with determination, "Just like we always do."

Beatrice smiled up at Rooster, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. "Yeah," she agreed softly, "Together."

He brings her to lie on his chest, rising and falling, as one of his hands cups the back of her head, “...I’m a bit better.’

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you are the balm I need.” he smirks, kissing her temple while still rubbing her head, “Cheesy?”

She wrinkles her nose while rubbing his chin with the back of her hand, “I love when you are cheesy.” she whispers, “It’s how I fell in love with you…and how you kept looking at me.”

“Hmmm…” he hums as she sits on his lap, his hands rubbing against her thick thighs, feeling the fabric of her jeans scrape his palms before he sighs, “Well…you are great to look at.” he says, oh he was feeling much better. Much. “And…I loved seeing you,walking around.” the reunion was completely forgotten as he played with the bottom of her shirt, “Wearing those jeans - not so different from this one,either.”

"You always know how to make me feel special," she murmured, her voice soft and filled with affection. "And I loved seeing you in your uniform, too. You looked so handsome.You're like a magnet for attention."

He smirks, “You made me have the nicest dreams even then.”

Beatrice blushed at Rooster's words, feeling a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. "Stop it," she protested playfully, swatting his arm with a grin, "You're making me blush."

Rooster chuckled at Beatrice's reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's true," he insisted, "You have this aura about you, Bea. I was just a little moth, flapping around your light and fuck i wanted to burn in you." he coos, sliding his hand under her shirt, “...we still got time,right?”

Beatrice's cheeks flushed even deeper at Rooster's bold words, feeling a surge of desire coursing through her veins. She leaned into his touch, her body responding instinctively to his closeness.

"We do," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "Plenty of time."

Rooster grinned at Beatrice's response, his eyes darkening with desire as he trailed kisses along her jawline. "Good," he murmured huskily, his breath warm against her skin, "Because I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon."

Beatrice's heart raced at Rooster's words, feeling a wave of heat pooling in her core. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she deepened their kiss, their bodies melting together.

They lost themselves in each other, their hands roaming freely as they explored every inch of each other's skin. Eventually, they pulled apart, their chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breath. Rooster pressed his forehead against Beatrice's, his eyes burning with intensity as he whispered, "I love you, Beatrice."

"I love you too, Rooster," she whispers “I–” she squeaks, rolling them around to pin her on the bed.

“Hmmm,i'm thinking.” he purses his lips, kissing her neck as his hands drag her shirt upwards, showing more of her soft stomach, “What I should do to you first.”

Beatrice giggled softly at Rooster's demeanor, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through her veins. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer as she looked into his eyes with a grin.

"Surprise me," she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation, "I'm all yours."

Rooster's grin widened at Beatrice's response, feeling a surge of desire coursing through him. He leaned in to capture her lips in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming freely as he explored every curve of her body.

Beatrice gasped softly as Rooster's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she arched her back, offering herself to him completely.

Rooster grinned against her skin, his hands sliding under her shirt to caress the soft skin of her stomach. He peppered her with kisses, his lips trailing lower and lower as he worshipped every inch of her body.

Beatrice moaned softly, her head spinning with pleasure as Rooster's touch sent waves of ecstasy coursing through her veins. She surrendered herself to him completely, lost in the intensity of their passion. “Fuck…Roos…”

Rooster's hands roamed lower,unbuttoning her jeans, his touch igniting a fire within her as he teased her with feather-light caresses. She writhed beneath him, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she begged for more.

He didn’t even remove her clothes, he just slid his hand inside her panties and gently rubbed her mound. He smiles, pushing himself upwards enough to keep his eyes on her expressions. She was flushed and beautiful and looking at him through her lashes “Fuck you are so beautiful and wet,I just want to–”

“Brad! HEY MAN! YOU THERE?”

They freeze immediately, slowly turning their heads to the door. Beatrice blinked, whimpering a bit when Rooster removed his hand from inside of her, licking his fingers clean while glaring at the door, “Roos,” oh no, “Brad,wait,” he stood up with a vengeance, if there was something you don’t do, was messing with their alone time.

“Man! Come on! It’s me John!” Rooster growls “I got the gang here!”

Rooster's expression darkened, his irritation evident as he glanced back at Beatrice. She could see the frustration in his eyes, "John," Rooster muttered under his breath, his tone laced with annoyance. He turned to Beatrice with a resigned sigh, "I'll go deal with him. You stay here."

Beatrice nodded in understanding, her heart sinking as she watched as he quickly straightened his clothes and headed towards the door, his jaw clenched in frustration.

Rooster swung the door open, his irritation evident as he came face to face with John and some? Of their old friends. They greeted him with smiles and cheers, oblivious to Rooster's annoyance as they crowded into the room. Beatrice squeaked, quickly fixing herself and rolling off the bed.

"Hey, man!" John exclaimed, clapping Rooster on the back, "Long time no see! We were just passing through and thought we'd stop by to say hi."

Rooster forced a smile, his patience wearing thin as he tried to navigate the sudden influx of visitors. "Yeah, great to see you guys," he replied tersely, "But we were in the middle of something."

John raised an eyebrow, “Huh? Come on man! It’ll be like old times! And won’t it be fun to hang out before the reunion?”

Rooster's smile faltered at John's words, his annoyance growing with each passing moment. He glanced back at Beatrice, his eyes apologetic as he tried to convey his frustration without saying a word. Beatrice gave him a sympathetic look, understanding his irritation all too well. 

"John, it's really not a good time," hhe interjected "We were in the middle of something important. Maybe we can catch up another time? At the reunion?"

“What? Is the missus locking you up already?��� it was a joke…but Rooster did not like it when people talked about Beatrice. He was taller, stronger, bigger than those guys were - also were they really his friends? He could barely see them as before. 

Rooster's grip on the door handle tightened, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to maintain his composure. "That's enough, John," he said through gritted teeth, "Beatrice and I have a private life, and I'd appreciate it if you respected that."

John's smile faltered at Rooster's stern tone, sensing the tension in the air. He glanced back at the other guys, exchanging nervous glances as they realized they might have crossed a line. "Hey, sorry man," John apologized, "We didn't mean to intrude. We'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Rooster nodded curtly, his expression tense as he watched the group of friends shuffle out of the room. Once they were gone, he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to Beatrice.

"I'm sorry, babe," he said softly, his voice filled with regret, "I didn't mean for that to happen. I should have been more assertive."

Beatrice shook her head, reaching out to take Rooster's hand in hers. "It's okay," she reassured him, "You did your best. And besides, it's not your fault they showed up unannounced."

Rooster sighed, feeling a sense of guilt wash over him. "Ugh….I’m going to hate this reunion,aren’t I?”

She frowns softly “...probably,honey…probably.”

[burntsaltsblog]

shiny new toy

(felix catton\reader)

chapter four

details: a saltburn inspired short story.

content warning: profanity, explicit sexual content, and mentions of abuse (physical and mental)

warning for this chapter: this chapter depicts explicit sexual content. if you are not an adult, DO NOT READ!!! the aftermath of physical violence (da) is also contained in this chapter.

MNI 18+

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　

The first thing I registered was the cold, hard floor beneath me. It did little to comfort my injuries, but it was the only proof I had that I wasn't dead. And that was surprising, considering the last thing I remember was Eric preparing to slit my throat. 

A myriad of voices rang from somewhere nearby. I vaguely recognized them, but I was already gripped by the darkness, which promised to drag me back to a peaceful slumber. 

"Damnit, Farleigh. I specifically told you and Venetia to keep an eye on her."

"I did! It's not my fault she wandered off."

"And why the fuck didn't you follow her? Christ, mate, this is exactly why I needed you to watch her."

"Well, she's your fucking toy. Why the hell weren't you watching her?"

"Don't call her that. It's not like that this time, and you know it."

"Oh, do I? Because so far, it is. Tell me, Felix, when will you grow tired of treating people like objects? Because I-"

"Enough. If you say one more word, I will personally ask my father to withdraw his invitation for you to spend the summer at Saltburn. Where will you go then, hm? You'll have to shack up with one of the teachers here you've blown."

"Fucking hell, will you two shut up? Your bloody bickering isn't going to help us find Iris. I'm going outside to check the yard. Farleigh, why don't you come with me? You, little brother, can search the rest of the house."

Silence filled the air before footsteps vibrated in different directions. A door squeaked before someone above me said my name in anguish.

"Iris? Jesus, what happened?"

Warm hands braced my upper body and rolled me onto my back. It took immense strength to crack my eyes open, but I was glad I did because I saw the one person I wanted more than anything.

"Felix?" I whispered through bloodied, cracked lips.

"It's me, darling. I'm here," he said, falling to the floor and pulling me onto his lap. I whimpered quietly and buried my face in his chest, inhaling his calming scent.

Felix consoled me, tightly wrapping his arms around me to ensure my safety. "Shh, it's ok, love; I've got you."

"Damn, what happened to your face?"

I weakly craned my neck to see Farleigh and Venetia standing in Marcus Ackerly's bathroom doorway, looking equally shocked and disturbed. I suppose Eric did a number on me for people to regard me in such a way. 

"Shut it, Farleigh," Felix uttered lowly, coming to my defense. "I'm going to take her to my room so you two can return to your previous activities."

Felix stood with me, still cradled against his chest, and murmured words of comfort as my sore body protested against the sudden shift. 

"Feel better, Iris," Venetia said as we passed her and Farleigh, still hovering by the door. A small smile graced her face, but Farleigh's remained unreadable. I smiled feebly in return before relaxing against Felix as he carried me away from them and out of the house.

The walk to Felix's dormitory was quiet, and I anxiously studied his expression. It was one of stone as he tensed his jaw and ground his teeth.

"Felix?" 

His face immediately softened as he looked down at me, concerned. "What is it, darling? Does something hurt?"

Technically, everything hurt. But I didn't want to say that out of fear that I'd worry Felix even more.

"I was wondering why you looked so mad. Did I do something wrong?" 

My thoughts were spiraling out of control, and I wondered if I was burdening him too much. After all, he was taking me back to his room, so I had, without a doubt, ruined his night. I'm sure he would much rather spend his evening with a woman who hadn't just got beaten to a pulp by her crazy ex-boyfriend.  

"No, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong," he assured me. "Someone fucking hurt you, and it kills me that I wasn't there to protect you. I should've been there to protect you."

"No, don't blame yourself, Felix. You were busy with Ollie-"

"Exactly, I was busy entertaining the pathetic fantasy of a fucking lunatic and not staying with you like I was supposed to," he growled.

"What are you talking about? What happened with you and Oliver?"

"It doesn't matter now," Felix responded briskly as he kicked open the door to his room. 

He delicately sat me on his bed and put an arm on either side of my legs, caging me in. Felix's head dipped between his shoulders, and he took a moment before speaking to calm himself.

"Iris," he started lowly, almost inaudible. "Who did this to you?"

When I didn't respond, he lifted his head, and our gazes clashed: earthy brown against forest green. 

"Who did this to you? Who fucking hurt you?" His anger was rising, and I knew the only way to subdue him was to give him the answer he wanted. 

"Is it who I think it was?" he pressed. "Was it that piece of shit who wouldn't leave you alone?"

"Yes. It was Eric," I faintly confirmed as tears blurred my vision. My throat threatened to close, but I forced myself to continue.

"He was mad about the text. He'd been watching us all night, and then when he saw I was alone, he chased me into the bathroom and cornered me there, and-"

"Fuck," Felix swore harshly under his breath. 

I wanted to say more but refrained when he dropped his forehead to mine. 

"I need you to know how fucking sorry I am, darling. I never intended to abandon you like that. I should've known that Eric would try to pull something like this." 

Regret had infiltrated his voice before the tone became more confident. "Over my dead body, will that asshole ever come near you again." 

"Felix, please, don't talk like that," I begged, shrinking away due to the topic of his death. It was something I found too utterly painful to comprehend.

"I'm sorry, love. But I'm serious; he will regret ever touching you."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, nervous that Felix would try something stupid and risk his safety. Eric wasn't worth it. 

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything," Felix mumbled as he traced a bruise on my cheek. 

To signal that the conversation was over, Felix stepped into his bathroom. A moment later, he reappeared, holding up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a small towel. "I'm gonna clean you up, ok?"

I nodded my head, earning a smile from Felix. He doused the towel in alcohol before coming back to stand directly in front of me. "This might sting a bit. Just squeeze my hand if it hurts." 

Biting my lip, I grasped his empty hand and was comforted by his touch.

Felix began working carefully over my face. I did my best to mask my discomfort, but when it became too much, I squeezed his hand, and he promptly leaned down to kiss my head before whispering, "You're doing so well for me, love. I'm so proud of you."

He finished cleansing the gashes on my face before moving to my hands, arms, and legs, which were covered in minor cuts due to the broken glass from the shattered mirror. 

"Almost done—just a few more minutes. I gotta make sure these don't get infected. I need my girl healthy." 

My girl

The simple phrase had butterflies erupting in my stomach. They flew widely around, and I knew there was no chance of me calming them down. 

"All done," he announced, giving me one of his gentle smiles, which I'd grown to love so much. 

"Thank you. For everything. If it weren't for you, I'd still be passed out at Marcus' place." 

Felix's face hardened, and I knew he was recalling what it was like to discover me bloody and bruised. 

"When I found you, for a moment, I thought I had lost you forever. I can't even begin to describe how fucking terrifying that was. The mere idea of losing you is something I can't bare. I need you, Iris. I need you."

His eyes were frantic as they searched my face—for what, I'm not sure—but his stare added an intensity to the air and charged it with something neither of us fully understood. But it was enticing and intoxicating.

Felix held my face between his hands, and I reached up to cover them with my own as I promised him softly, "I'm here, Felix, and I'm ok."

He tenderly kissed my forehead, and his hands, almost hesitantly, settled on my waist. He paused for a moment to analyze my reaction before placing another kiss on my temple. Gradually, Felix worked down until his mouth was under my jaw. In a daze, my head lulled back, giving him access to my neck.

It didn't take him long to find my sweet spot just below my ear. He bit down briefly before darting his tongue out to soothe the area from his assault. I moaned breathlessly and gripped his shoulders, needing something to stabilize myself. 

Felix's hands dug into my hair, pulling at my scalp and eliciting a whine from my throat. "Felix, please. I want you."

He withdrew his face from where it was settled in the crook of my neck and appraised me with blown-out pupils. "Are you sure? You've been through a lot tonight, love and-"

"Felix, I need you." I interrupted, echoing his words from earlier. My desperation oozed off me as I stared at him, wide-eyed and pleading.

Felix was quiet for a moment before he nodded and traced a finger over my bottom lip. "Ok, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of my girl." 

He leaned in and brushed his lips over mine agonizingly slow. I tilted my chin up, attempting to close the small gap between us, and he chuckled under his breath.

"Such a desperate girl."

Before I could reply, Felix firmly pressed his lips to mine, causing my thoughts to evaporate. My tongue slipped easily into his mouth, resulting in him groaning lowly. The sound traveled right to the spot between my legs that throbbed with immense need. I wrapped my arms around him, bringing him closer. But even with Felix tightly against me, I still craved more. I drew back just enough to grasp the top button of his shirt. "Off," I commanded. 

With a lazy grin, Felix stepped back and nimbly unbuttoned his shirt. He took his time shedding the material, and my eyes drank him in each second he revealed more of his toned chest. 

Once his shirt hit the floor, Felix reached for his belt buckle. The clang of metal caused my legs to snap shut and my thighs to rub together in search of friction. Felix raised a brow at me. "My needy girl looks like she's going to cum just sitting there."

I pouted at him and reached my hand out." I wanna to do it." 

Felix stared at my fussing nature before approaching me so I could touch him. "Ok, baby. You can do it. Be a good girl and unbuckle my belt."

I ruefully smiled as I wrapped my hands around the brown leather, tugging it away from his waist. I then made quick work of unzipping his jeans and dragging them down his thighs before he took over and kicked them off so they joined his shirt's place on the floor. 

My eyes grazed Felix's body in silent reverence. I was convinced he wasn't a human but, instead, a Greek God carved meticulously from stone; he had no flaw in sight. I lightly raked my hands down his chest before he took hold of them and placed them in my lap. I was momentarily confused before he began fiddling with the hem of my top. Then, his intentions became clear. 

Felix pulled my shirt over my head, and he immediately gaped at my breasts that were spilling out of my bra. He wasted no time in ripping it off and tossing it aside. 

"Beautiful," he murmured before he leaned forward and used his tongue to swirl over my right nipple.

"Oh my God," I breathed, raising my hand to curl around Felix's neck, urging him to continue. 

Felix dragged his tongue along my chest, between my breasts, and down my stomach until he reached the top of my skirt. 

"Stand up, love."

I groaned in protest before Felix harshly twisted one of my nipples. My core pulsed painfully as my eyes widened in surprise.

"Let's get one thing straight," Felix said, placing a hand under my chin so I had no choice but to meet his stern gaze. "When I give a command, I expect obedience. Do you understand?"

With glazed-over eyes, I nodded my head. Felix observed me as he ran his tongue over his lips. "That's what I thought. So be a good girl and stand up."

"Yes, sir." 

The words left my mouth before I realized it, and Felix's face darkened. "Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me." 

I rose to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. He grabbed my hips, turned me around, and placed a hand on my back, pushing my upper body down. My cheek met his soft comforter as I felt my skirt ride up.

"I think this is in the way," Felix drawled as he eased down the zipper of my skirt and pulled the garment from my body. I turned to see his reaction as he took in the black lace panties I wore, the only clothing I had left. 

A string of curses left his mouth before he delivered a sharp slap to my ass that left behind a stinging sensation. I buried my face in his bedding and pushed my hips back.

Felix pulled my panties to the side, and I felt cool air hit my pussy. "You're fucking drenched, and I haven't even touched you yet," He said, running a finger through my slick folds. "Is this all for me, sweetheart?"

My arousal began dripping down my legs, and I moaned when I felt his tongue begin to lap it up. He licked up my legs and stopped right at my glistening entrance.

"Felix, please," I whined.

"I know, darling, I know," he mumbled, placing his hands on my ass and spreading me open. A soft cry left my mouth at being so exposed, but it was apparent I loved it due to the juices that ran from my pussy. 

Felix's tongue drew tight circles over my clit, and I couldn't stop the whimpers that left my mouth. He eased his finger past my swollen lips, and I clenched around his thick digit. 

"Fuck me, please, I begged. 

"If you want me to fuck you, you need to first cum on my face, Ok?"

Felix's words made my brain short-circuit, so I only nodded in response. He tutted at my reaction before withdrawing his finger and slapping my pussy. "Use your words, darling. What do you say?"

"Yes, sir," I cried.

Seemingly satisfied, Felix lightly pinched my sensitive bud between his fingers as he started fucking me with his tongue. I gripped his sheets tightly as if they were my lifeline. 

"So good," I mewled loudly. It occurred to me that I should probably be quiet on account of the other people living in this building, but the faster Felix's tongue worked in and out of my pussy, the less I cared about who heard. 

"Are you going to cum for me, love?" Felix asked, replacing his mouth with his fingers. Two of them eased into my sopping core and curled down, hitting a spot that had me practically sobbing my answer.

"Yes, sir."

Right as I came, Felix introduced his tongue back into my opening and fucked me through my climax. His thumb roughly worked my overstimulated clit as I gushed all over his face. Felix wasted no time in lapping up my juices, and I couldn't miss the way he groaned in appreciation when doing so. 

"Such a good girl, cumming all over my face, just like I told you to."

Felix's tongue lazily traced my entrance, but my overwhelmed state caused my legs to give out. I was thankful when he caught me.

"It's Ok, darling. I've got you," he said soothingly as he picked me up and gently laid me down on his bed. My head hit his pillow, and I gave a small sigh of contentment.

"Oh no. Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart. I'm not done with you yet." Felix said, leaning over me. His gold chain dangled in front of my face, and I watched it slowly swing back and forth, entranced. 

I snapped back to the present when Felix's fingers wrapped around the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs. He threw them over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on me. 

"Do you know how long I've thought about this? Having you naked in my bed, looking up at me with those big eyes, just begging me to ruin you." 

"Then do it, Felix. Ruin me."

My reply had him peeling his black boxers off of his body and revealing his cock, hard and already leaking pre-cum. He stroked himself a few times before reaching across the bed and searching his nightstand's top drawer. He pulled out a small, silver package, but I plucked it from his hold, surprising him.

"No, I want to feel you," I whispered.

Felix hesitated. "Are you sure? I know we're both clean, but-"

"Felix, I want to feel you, even when you cum. Especially when you cum."

My face heated at my admission, but I'd used my fingers to fuck myself too many times, thinking of Felix driving into me, raw and deep, before cumming right at the edge of my cervix, claiming me completely.  

"Jesus," Felix breathed, closing his eyes. "You're going to make me cum before I'm even inside you."

I bit my lip as I watched him spread my legs and stare at pussy, hopelessly clenched around nothing.

"What a pretty cunt. All wet and swollen. Just begging to be stretched with my cock."

Felix lined himself up at my entrance, nudging my clit and causing me to whine impatiently. I bucked my hips, silently pleading for him to fuck me.

Finally, he entered me in a long thrust; I turned my head from side to side as unintelligible words left my mouth. I knew his size was impressive, but nothing could have prepared me for how my walls stretched to accommodate him. 

"It's Ok, sweet girl. I know," Felix said as he circled my clit, giving me pleasure to combat the pain.

"You're so big," I cried, breathless.

"But you can take it, darling. You can take it for me."

Felix's praise caused me to squeeze around him, and I watched his face tense. "So fucking tight, "he groaned. "So fucking perfect for me."

After being able to take all of Felix without much discomfort, he slowly drew out before thrusting back in. My back arched, and he took the opportunity to pinch one of my nipples. I mindlessly moaned and wrapped my legs around his waist so I could take him deeper. 

Felix soon found a steady rhythm in which he fucked me. Our cries clashed in the air, and through my hazy vision, I threaded my hands in his hair, dragging his mouth down to mine. Our tongues danced together in a passionate kiss, and it only drove me higher toward my inevitable orgasm. 

"I'm close," I gasped.

Felix smirked, driving into me harder. "Yeah? You gonna come around my cock, sweetheart?"

I openly wept as Felix wrapped a hand around my neck, applying pressure to just the right spot. 

"God, you're just fucked dumb, aren't you? My girl only knows my cock and nothing else."

"Please," I cried. It wasn't a descriptive word, but Felix understood what I needed.

The pressure around my neck increased, causing a light-headed sensation. Felix pressed his other hand on my lower stomach, causing my eyes to roll back and my mouth to hang open. 

"That's it, pretty girl. You're doing so well. You're gripping me like a fucking vice."

Felix's words drove me over the edge. My cry was guttural, and I clenched around him, causing him to omit a low groan as he reached his own climax. He thrust in one final time, coating my walls with his seed in thick, hot ropes. 

Eyes closed, I fell into a satiated state. My body was numb, yet I could feel every single nerve ending. I was barely awake as Felix pulled out, whispering soft words of praise the entire time. "You did so good for me, my love. I'm so proud of you."

As I registered his words, a faint smile crossed my lips. I glowed under Felix's compliments. 

I heard him walk around his room before feeling him spread my legs. But this time, it was to clean me up with a towel. 

Eventually, a blanket was draped over my body, and Felix pulled me against him in a warm embrace. I rested comfortably on his chest; his steady heartbeat was the perfect lullaby that lulled me to sleep. 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　

chapter index

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

[ritsuuu-0206]

A convo in the server about Bea's parents being mean and mother superion being possessive + Shannon, Mary, Lilith being protective

I can't plot or write for shit but eh, at least the idea is there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

------

Beatrice received a letter from her parents, informing her that they are on a diplomatic trip and will be paying a visit to the Cat's Cradle. The letter crumples when she clenches her hands, trembling at the thought of seeing them again after years.

She steadies herself, taking in slow, deep breaths. As long as she shows them that she's better now, they'll leave her alone. She doubts that they would cause a scene, considering that they are very concerned with appearances. But she's prepared for the possibility that it might happen, knowing their temper.

On the day of their arrival, Beatrice gives them a tour of the Cat's Cradle.

They expected Beatrice to be part of a convent, not some military. They scowled in disgust at the sight of the sisters training. When they returned to the main hall, which was thankfully empty - though unbeknownst to them, Shannon, Mary and Lilith were just out of sight, curious and concerned about leaving Beatrice alone with her parents.

"This place is not befitting of you. Risking your life fighting for what? We expected you to serve God as a nun, not a fighter. Pack your things, we're leaving." Beatrice's mother gestures at her to pack up, an eyebrow raising when Beatrice made no attempt to move.

"Mother, I will not leave this place. I am still serving God and fighting in his name is an honour." Beatrice could count the number of times she's talked back to her parents on one hand, because after the second time, she learned that she's not allowed to have her own opinions. But having to leave the OCS was something she couldn't bring herself to do. She's found a family here, people who accept her, who guide her with love. She doesn't want to give that up and return to hell with her parents.

A loud slap echoed in the hall, Beatrice's face turned to the side from the force. "How dare you talk back to me. I didn't raise you to talk back to your parents. You will gather your things and we're leaving this instant."

The moment she laid a hand on Beatrice, her sisters rushed out to stand between them. Lilith and Mary glared at them as Shannon checked on Beatrice, calming her when she realised that they had seen what happened. Shannon's heart breaks when she sees that Beatrice is holding back tears, eyes wide with fear.

"Sorry but Beatrice isn't going anywhere with you. You heard her loud and clear." Mary squared up to them but hoping that she doesn't have to punch them in front of Beatrice no matter how much she would love to.

"Beatrice is my daughter and she will listen to what I say. You can't keep her from me. I will bring this place down if I have to!" Beatrice's mother shouts at them fiercely.

Apparently the commotion had brought attention to Mother Superion, the sound of her cane echoing in the hall as she approached them made Beatrice shrink into herself, prepared to be punished for causing trouble. "What's all this about?"

"Mother Superion..! It's nothing of concern! I was just going to prepare to leave with my parents…" Beatrice immediately steps in to defuse the situation. She doesn't want her parents to cause more trouble for them. "I'm sorry, but I am needed with them."

"Like hell you are!" Mary turns to Beatrice with an incredulous expression.

"Language!" Mother Superion scolds Mary before taking in the situation in front of her. She sees how Beatrice's left cheek is red and swollen, how the girls are standing protectively between Beatrice and her parents.

"You must be the one with authority here. Please tell these girls to step aside and return my daughter." Beatrice's mother smiled politely.

"I'm sorry but I'm afraid I can't do that." Mother Superion's answer shocked everyone in the hall. "Sister Beatrice is needed here. She is a talented individual that we cannot afford to give up. And regarding your threat, I'm sure it won't look good for you if news got out that you would assault your daughter in a holy place. Beatrice isn't your daughter anymore, you've lost that right the moment you laid your hands on her. She's mine and she belongs with her sisters."

It would be funny to see Beatrice's mother turning red with anger at Mother Superion's words if it weren't for the fact that Beatrice was terrified of them and that they are on guard in case any of them lashes out. Luckily, they just shouted profanities and cursed them to hell before leaving the Cat's Cradle.

Mother Superion turned to Beatrice, reaching out to cup her uninjured cheek. "Are you alright?"

The soft and gentle way Mother Superion was being towards her, coupled with her words, sends Beatrice sobbing with relief as she moves to hug her. She simply rasps out thank you's between her sobs, grateful that no matter what happens, no matter how unsightly it is, she have a people to call family and a place to call home.

[kiwiana-writes]

for the au fun fact game! a leverage style heist au with alex, henry, and the rest of the super six? i'm surprised there aren't more rwrb leverage aus given how the super six is basically a pre-made heist team but yeah! i'm curious to see what you'll say 👀

Like the accidental marriage AU earlier, this is one that does already exist in my WIP folder! I'm hoping to tackle it in the first half of 2024; it takes a LOT more planning than I'm used to hahaha. So let's go.

ONE: The first time Alex comes across the famous Henry Fox, he's convinced it's a fakeout. There's no way someone that genteel, that pretty, is the sort of hitter that even the most hardened criminals whisper about with a mixture of fear and respect in their voices.

(The second time he comes across the famous Henry Fox is the day the team comes together, and if he wasn't in the room, he'd be convinced Nora doctored the footage—Henry takes out eight mooks without breaking a sweat, the lock of hair falling across his face and one scrape on his knuckle where one idiot opened their mouth right before Henry punched him in it the only evidence Henry had anything to do with the bodies lying at his feet in varying degrees of pain. Alex is impressed, grateful, and more than a little turned on.)

TWO: Nora is a terrible grifter. Absolutely atrocious. After a few disastrous attempts, they all agree that if the choices are between Nora grifting, and abandoning the con... well, you can't win 'em all.

THREE: Pez brings them together as a team, but June is their glue. She's the one who finds clients, and who keeps them... well, not honest, but on the right path.

FOUR: Henry worries, when he and Alex get together, when Nora and June and Pez are doing whatever it is they're doing, that Bea will feel like some sort of sixth wheel. He needn't have been concerned—Bea and Alex are a terrifyingly chaotic duo, Bea and June combine their big sister energy when needed, Bea and Nora occasionally disappear for a side job the rest of them know better than to ask about, and Bea and Pez gang up on Henry at any given opportunity. Some days it feels like she's the star they're all orbiting.

FIVE: Nora doesn't tell the rest of them—not even June and Pez—but she has contingency plans on top of contingency plans for when any or all of them get burned. There are fake identities living whole lives, at least according to their digital footprint, that any of them will be able to jump into at a moment's notice. The crew is her family, and she'll keep them safe.

[Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story.]

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 22

Chapter 22 - Kettle Catching Pot

synopsis: you're anything but happy with izaya about the stunt he just pulled, but he's more than happy to tell you about more of his research.

word count: 2,128

warnings: description of murder

"i'm only human, i make mistakes i'm only human, that's all it takes to put the blame on me don't put the blame on me,, human - rag'n'bone man

He’s not expecting your appearance. He can try to cover up that fact, but the minuscule widening of his eyes is the only tell that you need. “(Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here! Come to rescue me from that vicious bea--.”

“Save it.” The words are curt, but your voice carries less contempt than you intend. All that comes through is pure breathlessness; astonishment. Izaya’s eyebrows knit in fake concern.

“Why, is something wrong?” His voice was level, the same way it always was when he spoke to you. Calm and collected, like nothing that just occurred mattered.

“What’s wrong is that you’re a creep!” So many words flit through your conscious, you’re not sure that the right one came out--but you stick with it because it's true. He is a creep; a creep who no one trusts, a creep that hurt Anri, a creep that tried to get someone killed. A part of you cowers in fear of his reaction. The two of you are alone. All it would take was upsetting him, and he could do whatever he wanted to you.

But instead of the piercing glare and venomous scowl that you’re expecting, you’re only granted a close-lipped smile; stretching across his face in a Cheshire-like manner. “Is that so? And what makes me such a creep?” He was unmoved, staring you down as if eagerly awaiting your next move. The regard for his reaction is dissipating by the second, replaced by pure irritation, anger even.

“L-like you don’t know…”

“No, please enlighten me! Here I thought I was doing right by you, pulling so many strings to get your request fulfilled--but if I’ve done something to upset you, I’m all ears.”

He’s stepping towards you now, arms open in some sort of grandiose gesture. You move backward to maintain a distance, strongly disliking the disparity between his eyes and smile. “Well, you know what? Forget about the request--forget about the whole thing! It’s not worth fraternizing with the likes of you…”

“And what are the likes of me?”

His advancing doesn’t stop, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s taunting you, relishing in each moment you recoil in fear. Well, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You hold your ground as he comes closer, even stepping forward. To your annoyance, he only seems more pleased with this.

“Manipulative jerks who jeopardize the lives of others for their own gain. Sorry men who have nothing better to do than to mess with innocent people. Someone could have died today, because of you, do you understand that? You’re no better than a murderer .”

Something flashes in his eyes, something dangerous. It sends a flash of panic through you and you’re suddenly aware of your proximity to him. You stand face to face with him now, the closest to him you had ever been. You take in his toothy grin, eyes fixed on his lips as they slowly part. He savors the words, tasting them, before tossing them into the air.

“You’re one to talk about murderers.”

The facade is broken. Your brain reels too much to take in the vision, but the dancing of that poisonous voice against your ears is enough to stir you up. Stumbling backwards, you struggle to digest his words. What?

“What?”

“Tell me, (Y/N). That case file I gave you--did you notice anything odd?” 

“W-why are you bringing that up now? If you think you’re going to pull me into one of your games, you’re sorely mistaken--!”

“But you see, I haven’t pulled you into anything. You’ve walked into it yourself!” He reaches into his coat and you tense all over. Was this the end for you? Killed in a secluded alley while everyone else was distracted? You wonder what instrument he planned to murder you with; rope, a knife, a gun…

A manila folder. He holds it high above his head before tossing it on the floor in front of you. You only stare at it, hesitant to reach for it. Noting your distrust, Izaya raises his arms, nodding for you to take it. Swiftly crouching down, you pinch it between your fingers and quickly regain your guard. Eyeing him suspiciously, you slowly open the folder.

“....It’s just the same case file.” Were you disappointed?

“See anything different about it?” The man prods. He talks to you like you’re a child in need of coaxing. Wrinkling your nose, you flip through the pages. As far as you could tell, nothing was different. All of the pages were there, you could read everything…

You could read everything.

“Nothing’s blacked out…” you think out loud, momentarily losing your prideful attempt to resist his mind games. The numerous lines that you were unable to read before were now there, clear as day. “So you gave me a tampered copy. Ha-ha, silly me. Is that all?”

“Now may not be the best time, but I would like to say thank you.” Your eyebrow raises.

“Thank you?”

“For your stunning insight on this case. I must say, I’m impressed. Even I was a bit stumped, but, after our last consultation, I experienced a bit of a breakthrough. The order of the killings, the missing lock of hair, the Baseball Card Killer? You’re brilliant!”

A day before, you would have been foolishly prideful to hear those words. A naive itching within you to impress the enigmatic man that no one else could get through to. But now? The words fell flat with no effect. No, he was just trying to butter you up.

“Flattery’s not going to work. Literally, all of that was written in the case file.”

“Ah, but it wasn’t!” There’s an exhilaration in his voice that deeply unsettles you. Why on earth was he enjoying this so much?  You flip through the folder searching for the page that you knew the most. When you find it, your eyes quickly scan over the words

Leanne Clarence was found in the pool. Cause of death was confirmed to be drowning. The autopsy also revealed that locks of hair missing from the victim’s head.

“...locks of hair were missing from the victim’s head--see, it’s written right there.” You don’t even know why you’re sitting here talking to him. You could leave if you wanted to--and you do want to, so what’s the problem?

Izaya reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he holds it up to you, close enough for you to make out the writing--or lack thereof. It was a copy of the same page you had turned to, except that some lines had been crossed out--like the copy you had first gotten. “Except you hadn’t seen that before, had you?” He points his finger to the exact line you were referencing and, to your perplexity, you notice how half of it was blacked out.

Leanne Clarence was found in the pool. Cause of death was confirmed to be drowning. The autopsy also revealed ______________________________________.

Your brain stops running for a moment, thrown off by the revelation. “W-well, I made an inference, so what! I probably saw how pretty her hair was in the picture and had the theory...what does this have to do with--?”

“Show me those pictures, if you’d please.” Scoffing at the interruption, you flip to the next page. Maybe if you just played along for a bit, he’d let you go. Glancing over the three girl’s pictures, you point out Leanne’s picture, deadpan staring at the man.

“See? Pretty blonde hair.” Izaya leans closer to the page, presumably to get a closer look. He appears to be in deep thought, humming inquisitively with a creased brow. You huff impatiently--what on earth was there to contemplate? 

“How’d you know that was Leanne?” Your heart rate spikes through the roof as his face splits into a smirk once again.

“Stop messing around! The pictures are labeled, her name’s right--” You turn the page towards you again, ready to point out the name to him. However, when you plant your finger on the page, all you hit is blank white. 

There were no words anywhere on the page.

You blink slowly, as if in the brief moment that your eyes close, the print would appear. No, that didn’t make sense. You could’ve sworn the pictures were labeled. Maybe it had been somewhere else in the file--a description of each girl, a brief detail that let on to their identities. You continue to look through the folder, ignoring Izaya’s obviously growing amusement. Suddenly, the folder is swiped from your grasp. “H-hey!” You shout indignantly, seething at the man who now dangled the folder between his fingers.

“One more thing, (Y/N), and I promise I’ll set you free.” You scoff, crossing your arms. Taking that as compliance, he goes through the folder himself. The pace at which he flips each page is infuriatingly slow. Finally, he stops, planting a finger on a page before glancing up at you. “You said this to comfort yourself and you weren’t even thinking...but I found it quite fascinating. About the brutality of the stabbing. Do you remember?”

“It’s not exactly in the forewings of my memory at the moment.”

“Well, let me remind you!” His voice rises with glee, his eyes pinning you in a way that makes your blood curdle. He pulls something from his pocket--a simple cellphone. You raise a brow, silently questioning him. He gives no answer, simply pressing a button.

“..not brutal enough to get blood all over the crime scene.”

Wait...was that…?

“Hmmm, but perhaps the killer was able to book it after stabbing his last victim—that would be an easy avoidance for the mess.”

No way.

“It wasn’t his last victim though….Sorry—I just mean…he, er, strangled the last girl without getting blood on her, right? So the stabbing couldn’t have been that bloody.” 

“You recorded our conversations!?”

“I record all of my conversations--it’s kinda part of the job.” You could slug him across his nasty, smirking face--but you were more frustrated with yourself. How could you not have thought about that? How foolish you were...but it shouldn’t matter because you never said anything bad in the first place! You open your mouth to say so, but Izaya cuts you off, reading from the page in front of him.

“There has not been a confirmation regarding the sequence of the victims’ murders, investigators have reached a relative consensus that the culprit drowned Clarence in the pool, then stabbed Harker to death in the kitchen after strangling Hall next to the pool.”

stabbed Harker to death in the kitchen after strangling Hall next to the pool.

“Looks like you and these investigators are having a little disagreement...I wonder which one of you is correct!”

“It wasn’t his last victim though ...he, er, strangled the last girl without getting blood on her, right?”

So many thoughts were swirling through your head and you could feel yourself getting dizzy. Your lips scrambled for words, but no rebuttal came to mind--because what exactly was he insinuating? A murder that happened four years ago? You were a teenager, probably in school. Just because you had some random theories...doesn’t mean that you…

“You knew about Leanne’s missing hair, you knew the victim’s names and faces, you knew the order of the killings. Independently, these things could be a coincidence, but all together?”

This is crazy.

“It seemed outlandish at first...but I actually dug up so much crucial information, thanks to your request!”

You didn’t.

“The middle school certificate from the same city where the murder occurred, the school photo from the same high school that the three victims attended, the same name as the fourth victim that is still missing to this day…”

You couldnt have.

"It all checks out--the culprit drowned Leanne Clarence, ripping her hair out in the process. They then proceeded to stab Katherine Harker to death, before finally strangling poor, poor Renee Hall...but it wasn't the family's housekeeper, no. Nor was it Matthew Hall, Renee's drug-addict uncle. It wasn't even the infamous Baseball Card Killer..."

You didn't do it.

“Thats right--the culprit of the Three of a Kind Murder Case, the savage brute who took the lives of Renee Hall, Katherine Harker, and Leanne Clarence, is none other than you...(Y/N) Brigall!”

You didn’t do it. You didn’t. You didn’t. You didn’t you didn’t you didn’tyoudidntyoudidn’tyou didn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’ty oudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’t

The mantra flashes in your head over and over again like error windows on a computer screen. The words ring loud and earnestly, begging to be heard--begging to distract you from that lone, powerful voice beneath it all. The one that was getting through to you the most, no matter how much you resisted it.

You couldn’t resist it.

It was you.

[teddymoon06]

Chapter 7

Title: Beneath the Surface

Chapter 7: Shattered Hope

Y/N’s POV

Hours passed since Hyun-su lured the monsters away from the rooftop. We hadn’t heard anything from him yet. The air was thick with tension, and everyone was restless, waiting for something to happen. Every minute that ticked by felt like an eternity.

I kept glancing at the door, praying that he’d come through it any second now. The thought of him out there, alone, risking his life, gnawed at me. I hated this helplessness. All I could do was wait.

Jae-heon moved around, talking quietly with the other survivors, discussing what our next move would be. He was trying to keep everyone calm, but I could see the fear in his eyes too. We were running out of time, and the monsters were getting more aggressive.

“Y/N,” Jae-heon said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, though the tightness in my chest didn’t loosen. “I’m fine. Just… worried.”

Jae-heon placed a hand on my shoulder, his expression softening. “He’ll come back. Hyun-su is strong.”

I wanted to believe him. But a part of me was terrified that I wouldn’t see Hyun-su again. That thought made my heart ache.

“I know he’s strong,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “But this is… this is different.”

Jae-heon didn’t argue. He just gave me a reassuring look and moved to help the others with reinforcing the barricades.

I hugged my knees to my chest, sitting on the cold floor, my mind racing. What if something had gone wrong? What if Hyun-su—

Before I could finish the thought, the door burst open, and Hyun-su staggered inside.

Cha Hyun-su’s POV

Every muscle in my body screamed in pain as I stumbled into the room, the adrenaline finally wearing off. I had managed to lead the monsters away, but barely. The whole time, I could feel the transformation inside me fighting to take over. I had to push it back, to stay in control.

But now, I was completely drained.

The room fell silent as I entered, everyone’s eyes on me. But the only person I cared about seeing was Y/N.

She was on her feet in an instant, rushing toward me. The relief in her eyes almost broke me. I’d never wanted to let her down, never wanted her to see me like this—weak, exhausted, barely holding on.

“Hyun-su!” Y/N’s voice was full of emotion as she reached me, her hands gently gripping my arms. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, though my legs felt like they might give out at any second. “I’m fine,” I lied, trying to steady my breathing.

“You look awful,” she said softly, her brow furrowed in concern.

I wanted to reassure her, to tell her I was okay. But I couldn’t find the words. The truth was, I wasn’t okay. The monster inside me was getting stronger, and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it at bay.

But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t let her see how scared I really was.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, forcing a small smile.

Y/N didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug. For a moment, everything else faded away. The fear, the pain, the constant threat of death—it all disappeared as I held her.

“I was so worried about you,” she whispered against my chest.

“I know,” I murmured, resting my chin on her head. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s POV

I didn’t want to let go of him. Not after everything that had happened. Holding Hyun-su like this, feeling his warmth, it made me forget, just for a moment, the hell we were living in.

But we couldn’t stay like this forever. Reluctantly, I pulled back, though my hands lingered on his arms. His face was pale, and I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. He wasn’t telling me everything, but I didn’t want to push him. Not now.

Jae-heon approached us, his expression grim. “Hyun-su, we need to talk. There’s something… something else.”

Hyun-su nodded, his jaw clenched. “What is it?”

Jae-heon hesitated, glancing at the others before speaking. “We’ve found another survivor. Someone… infected, like you.”

My heart skipped a beat. Another person like Hyun-su? Was that even possible?

“Where are they?” Hyun-su asked, his voice tense.

“Downstairs, in the basement. We locked them up for now. But they’re different. More aggressive.”

I saw Hyun-su’s expression harden. The fear I’d seen in his eyes earlier was back. Whatever this meant, it wasn’t good.

“I’ll go see them,” Hyun-su said, determination in his voice.

“No!” I blurted out, grabbing his arm. “You just got back. You need to rest. Let someone else—”

“I have to do this,” he interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. “I need to know if… if I’m going to end up like them.”

The words hung heavy in the air. I didn’t want to think about that possibility—Hyun-su turning into one of those creatures, losing himself completely. But I could see the fear in his eyes. He was worried too.

“Then I’m coming with you,” I said firmly.

Hyun-su looked like he was about to argue, but then he sighed, nodding. “Okay. But stay close to me.”

Cha Hyun-su’s POV

We made our way to the basement, the tension thick between us. Y/N was silent, but I could feel her worry radiating off her. I didn’t blame her. I was scared too—scared of what I might see, of what it might mean for me.

The basement was dark and cold, the air damp and heavy. As we approached the locked door, I could hear something moving inside—scraping, low growls, the sound of something inhuman.

Jae-heon unlocked the door, and the sound grew louder. My heart pounded in my chest as we stepped inside.

The creature inside wasn’t fully transformed yet. It was still human… mostly. But its eyes were wild, filled with rage and fear. It snarled as it saw us, its body twitching with every movement.

I swallowed hard, my stomach churning. This could be me. This could be what I turn into.

“Hyun-su…” Y/N’s voice was soft, but I could hear the fear in it.

I forced myself to look at the creature, to study it. It was losing itself, the human part of it slipping away. I could feel the monster inside me stirring, as if it was trying to take control, to break free.

But I wasn’t going to let it. I couldn’t.

“This is what you’re fighting against,” Jae-heon said quietly. “You have to stay in control, Hyun-su. For all of us.”

I nodded, clenching my fists. “I won’t let this happen to me.”

Y/N’s POV

I watched Hyun-su as he stared at the creature, his expression tense and conflicted. I could only imagine what was going through his mind. Seeing that thing—it must have felt like looking at his own worst nightmare.

But I knew Hyun-su. He was stronger than that. He wouldn’t let this thing take over him. I believed in him, even if he didn’t fully believe in himself.

“We should go,” I said softly, reaching for his hand.

Hyun-su didn’t move for a moment, his gaze still locked on the creature. But then, slowly, he turned and took my hand, his grip tight. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

As we left the basement, I couldn’t help but glance back at the creature one last time. I hated it. Not just because it was a monster, but because it represented everything I feared for Hyun-su.

But I wouldn’t let it win. I wouldn’t let the fear consume me.

We walked back up the stairs in silence, but I didn’t let go of Hyun-su’s hand. Whatever happened, whatever came next, we would face it together.

Cha Hyun-su’s POV

Y/N’s hand in mine was the only thing keeping me grounded. The monster inside me was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but I was determined to fight it. For her. For everyone.

As we reached the top of the stairs, Jae-heon gave me a reassuring nod. “We’ll figure this out, Hyun-su. You’re not alone in this.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on. But Y/N’s presence gave me hope. As long as she was by my side, I had something to fight for.

“We’ll get through this,” I said quietly, looking at Y/N.

She smiled, though I could see the worry still lingering in her eyes. “We will.”

And for the first time in a long

time, I allowed myself to believe that.

End of Chapter 7

Next | Previous

[quietblueriver]

Judith at the Banquet

S2 Ep.3 - Just a quick bit of canon divergence. Ava and Beatrice make it to the Prado after all.

--

“You want to go sightseeing? Right now?”

“Yes! I spent my whole life in an orphanage. I mean, this is Madrid! Villa y corte. The city of the bear and the strawberry tree! I wanna see everything!”

Ava’s arms are spread wide and her smile is bright and familiar. It’s the same smile she uses to try to convince Beatrice to abandon their run for a trip to the bakery or the pool. It’s the same smile she uses to tempt Beatrice into a walk to the coffee shop, Ava claiming she wants some sweet concoction when really she just knows Beatrice is having a difficult day and could use a cortado. It’s the same smile that led to Beatrice drinking lemon drops and letting her hair down, pressing close to Ava on a dance floor. It’s effective more often than it should be—Ava is earnest and eager and beautiful and trying and Beatrice is, despite herself, entirely in love with her. Today, though, as she watches the pattern on her cross flash over and over again, she shouldn’t agree. She can’t agree.

“I understand, but now is really not the time. Come on, it’s this way.”

Ava rolls her head back in defeat but follows Beatrice toward the meeting point. As they get close, she hesitates. There are at least three men watching the door. They may be compromised. She stops short of the gate at the entrance and considers. Ava stops just behind her, close enough that Beatrice can feel the warmth of her, their arms brushing as Ava rocks her body restlessly.

“Bea?”

“Keep your eyes ahead. We’re being watched.”

Ava tenses as she moves closer to Beatrice, stills. “How many?”

“Three that I see so far, but I’m concerned that there may be more inside.”

She turns to face Ava, letting her eyes pass over the men across the street. Ava says, eyes just over Beatrice’s shoulder, “Right. That guy is window shopping at an accountant’s office.”

Beatrice hums. “Yes, and there are two others behind you, not to mention whoever might be inside.” She glances at the door. She doesn’t see movement but that doesn’t mean much. “Even if nobody is inside, we can’t take the chance that we lead them to the others. We have to lose them.”

Ava bounces on her heels, pulls at the brim of her hat. “Yeah. Let’s lead them down a side street and take them out.”

It’s an incredibly Ava plan, meaning it’s rash and it ignores everything Beatrice has taught her about strategy. She reminds her, again: “Never spark a conflict until you have a complete understanding of your odds.”

Ava’s already moving toward an alley, turns to face Beatrice as she walks backward. “Mmm. More of a punch first, maybe ask some questions, and then punch again kinda girl.”

Beatrice thinks of the street fight with Miguel, of the FBC informant. The lingering weight of her fear for Ava sits low in her stomach, even as she rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’ve noticed.” She looks back at the flower shop and then at Ava, watches as two of the men start toward them in an entirely unsubtle way. Amateurs. FBC, if she had to guess, but she can’t imagine Vincent would send anyone this green. Then again, she couldn’t have imagined that Vincent would be acolyte to a demon, so anything is possible.

The two men behind Ava are huddled together now, and their attempt at conversation over a newspaper article is ridiculous, the henchmen’s version of bad improv. One of them has his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline and is nodding so hard that the tip of his nose is nearly parallel to the ground on each dip. The other is holding the newspaper out in front of them so demonstratively that he might as well be a mime.

Beatrice leaves them to their show and assesses. She’s not willing to go into the shop without more information, and she’s concerned, deeply concerned, that Vincent has gained access to the coordinates. She doesn’t know where Mary’s cross is. She doesn’t know who else he might have working for him. There’s every chance the shop is full of wraiths or that Vincent has set some other trap. It’s not a risk she can take, not with Ava.

They’ll have to find somewhere to regroup and think of another means of contacting Superion and Camila. A call is out of the question, but Camila would pick up any digital breadcrumbs Beatrice left, she’s certain. It may be the best option. She’ll need to find a burner phone, a wifi connection, and somewhere to pass the time until Camila can find them. Beatrice considers the bus stop, thinks of Ava’s indulgent smile every time she orders Beatrice’s cortado. Well. They are in Madrid. She puts her cross away.

“Ava.”

Ava stops, tilts her head in acknowledgement.

“How would you feel about a detour?”

Ava shrugs. “Sure. Want to lead them somewhere else?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking,” Beatrice steps closer to her, nods her head in the direction of the bus stop, “that we could go to the Prado.”

Ava’s on top of her immediately, arms wrapped around Beatrice’s neck as she laughs and whoops in delight. Beatrice wraps her own arms around Ava’s waist and holds her off the ground for a moment as Ava jumps. When she lands, she presses a kiss to Beatrice’s cheek, distractingly close to her mouth, and takes her hand.

“You’re my very favorite, you know that?”

Beatrice feels her face grow hot, knows it must be visible because Ava’s smile softens, her eyes full of something tender, and the hand not holding Beatrice’s reaches up to trace knuckles over Beatrice’s cheek. The window shopper moves in their direction and Beatrice snaps herself back to reality. Before anything else, they’ll need to deal with the stooges. If their current behavior is indicative of their general level of competence, it won’t be terribly difficult to shake them. She reaches up to take Ava’s hand from her face, squeezing to let her know it’s not a rebuke, even though, Beatrice knows, it probably should be. She pulls Ava by her other hand back toward the side street.

“Let’s shake them. I need to do a few things to get word to Camila, and then we can catch a bus.”

Ava nods eagerly and bounces on her toes. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It takes nothing, two minutes ducked behind a gray Fiat, one and a half of those purely out of an abundance of caution, and they’re free. Beatrice gets them back to a populated street and walks a few blocks, tracking back and on high alert for any additional danger. She thinks, for a moment, that she sees a familiar face, the flash of a clerical collar, but when she looks again, it’s gone. They’re in a crowd now, and Vincent is unlikely to make a move that would draw negative attention to Adriel and call into question his angel persona. It’s unlikely, but she murmurs to Ava anyway, “Be on watch for Vincent.” When Ava looks at her in alarm, eyes darting through the crowd around them, Beatrice pulls her closer, their hands having remained linked since they emerged from behind the car. “It’s okay. I can’t be certain that I saw him. I just,” a man bumps Ava and Beatrice lets go to steady her, keeping her hand at the small of her back long after it’s necessary, “I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

Ava leans into her further, pulling Beatrice’s arm fully around her waist. “I’m gonna kick his ass, Bea.” The determination on her face makes Beatrice want to take her back to their flat, keep her tucked away. There is nothing dutiful left in her desire to protect. It’s a scared, selfish thing. “Ava, please be careful.” Her tone is pleading, telling, but Beatrice cannot bring herself to be embarrassed. (“I am your best friend, and I cannot watch you die.” The truth and so much less than the truth. A confession and a prayer.) Her hand moves against Ava’s waist, fingers brushing bare skin where her overalls open, and she’s startled enough at the intimacy of it that she pulls away. Ava catches her hand before it gets far, rubs her thumb over Beatrice’s knuckles as she secures it back around her waist. She stops them in the middle of the crowd, unconcerned at the inconvenience she’s causing, and her eyes are understanding and, maybe, a little bit sad. “Okay. It’s okay, Bea. I’ll be careful." She starts walking again, and Beatrice moves with her, directing them to a corner store advertising SIM cards in its window.

---

Ava’s eyes are wide as she takes in the city through the window of the bus. Beatrice splits her time between watching Ava and watching the passengers around them, nodding and answering, where she can, Ava’s questions about the city and their route.

When they reach the front of the Prado, Ava’s eyes are as bright as Beatrice has ever seen them, and she takes Beatrice’s hand and links their fingers as they enter, bounding toward the stand of maps. Biting her lip, she hums as she unfolds a pamphlet and examines the layout of the museum, thoughtful. It’s much more intentional than Beatrice would have anticipated, but she would never say so. “It’s silly. I don’t…” She shrugs a bit, almost embarrassed, and Beatrice steps further into her space and presses a palm against her back, just below the halo, feels Ava’s muscles relax against her. The desire for physical proximity, for her own sake as much as for Ava’s, is instinctual in a way it never has been with anyone else. “I’ve never seen anything like this, Bea. I don’t even know where to start. I…I’m so excited, I just…” There are tears in her eyes, and Beatrice says, catching the moisture on Ava’s cheek with the thumb of her free hand, “I feel very lucky to be able to explore with you.” Ava’s smile wobbles but there are no more tears. “Come on. We’ll start here.” Beatrice laces their fingers after Ava tucks the map into her pocket and leads them toward the first hall.

Beatrice has been to the Prado and the Reina Sofia on more than one occasion. She has been to the Louvre, the Musee D’Orsay, the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum, to countless others scattered across Europe and even more beyond that. She has wandered while on trips with her school and her family, on weekends in the summer when she felt like exploring and her parents deemed her proposed itinerary appropriately culturally enriching—endless hours and always with the knowledge that she could return. At home, of course, she could navigate the V&A with her eyes closed, could still schedule a private tour of any collection in the British Museum with one call, and her parents’ donation of a Cezanne to which they were not particularly attached led to several particularly enthusiastic welcomes at the National Gallery over the course of Beatrice’s youth. At one point, in the year before her parents sent her away, she knew the security guards at the Tate Modern by shift.

She has taken a vow of poverty and has given up worldly things, but moving slowly with Ava through the Prado makes Beatrice feel the unshakeable reality of her privilege, something that can’t be undone with any vow, with a deep kind of shame. Ava reads descriptions and stares, bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. She tugs Beatrice close when she finds something she likes especially, or when she reads a fact she wants to share, and there’s a slight tinge to her cheeks as she asks about pronunciation, her mouth moving over the syllables as Beatrice helps. Beatrice stays close and answers questions conversationally but with her voice low enough that Ava won’t feel embarrassed. She doesn’t think she would be, knows she shouldn’t be, but Beatrice isn’t taking any chances.

She’s done enough to discourage Ava today. Every day, if she’s as honest as she should be. Beatrice lives with a temperance appropriate for her vows, discipline and dedication and caution her guiding lights. Ava has no interest in temperance, and Beatrice understands why—she had been abused and kept isolated for most of her life, had died because someone else decided her life was not worth living. It’s another thing to admire about Ava, that she emerged from that blazing and determined to take as much as she could while she could, to live when she’d been denied a life for so long. Ava is resilient, brave, defiant.

Beatrice is a good soldier. She knows how to fall in line. She has spent her time with Ava convincing herself that she’s protecting her by reining in her impulsivity and her brashness, tempering her for her own good. Certainly, that is partially true. But right now, Beatrice’s chest is tight with the knowledge that in another world, they are not here today but moving furtively through the city, caught in a fight, maybe, or recovering from one. Ava had given in so easily, following her to the shop and taking Beatrice’s dismissal, her disbelief at Ava’s desire to explore, in stride. She knows Ava takes her role as halo-bearer seriously. It makes sense that Ava would fight her more about their morning run than she would about something that might actually put Beatrice, or anyone else, in danger. And she knows Ava doesn't resent her for keeping them focused on the mission. Of course she doesn't; Ava has been, to Beatrice's constant anxiety, eager to get into the fight. Still, Beatrice itches under her skin at the thought that she hadn't understood Ava in that moment or even, really, after Ava explained. How often had Beatrice told Ava no without any real thought as to what it might mean for Ava for her to say yes?

Ava’s staring at Perseus as he frees Andromeda, tiny sweater-jacket hanging off one shoulder and cap flipped backward, her head angled up and tilted slightly as she evaluates some detail on his body. Her ever-in-motion body sways just enough for Beatrice, standing half a step behind her, to notice. She’s beautiful. Beatrice has never loved Rubens, but she would happily stay here all day.

She imagines a world in which she can stay, in which they can stay. Together. She wants to be here for as long as Ava wants to be here. Then, tomorrow, she wants to go with Ava to the Reina Sofia, which she knows without any doubt will spark something bright in her. She wants to wander with Ava through El Retiro and listen to her talk about her favorite pieces, then take a tour of the Royal Palace to hear her get excited in an entirely new way. She wants to take Ava to Barcelona, to walk with her through Park Guell and climb the stairs of the Sagrada Familia. She wants to call Andres, who handled her family’s art acquisitions, and throw her family name around like she never has before, to get Ava all the time she wants anywhere she wants, tours with a curator or a personal guide. She wants to go back to London, undeterred for the first time in a very long time by the thought of her parents, because she thinks Ava would love the V&A especially. She wants to hear her gasp and exclaim, unabashed, at the colors and the textiles and the range.

“Bea?”

Beatrice brings herself back and smiles at Ava. “Sorry. Sorry.” Ava bumps her shoulder into Beatrice’s and then threads their arms together. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She takes a breath, says as if it’s simple, “Just thinking of all of the places I’d like to go with you.”

It’s more than she would usually allow herself, but the ache in her chest is still there, pulsing, for a version of Ava who missed this day. For a version of Beatrice who let her. For their sake, she is trying a more direct honesty. For their sake, and for her own, she wants Ava to know. I want to say yes to you. Surprise flashes across Ava’s face and she tugs Beatrice closer. Her fingertips press into Beatrice’s bicep as she curls around her, and she rests her chin on Beatrice’s shoulder.

“Yeah? Not ready to be done with me yet?” It’s teasing, mostly, breathed out against her cheek, but Beatrice answers earnestly, trying for some of Ava’s bravery. “I don’t ever want to be done with you.”

Ava stills, and Beatrice worries, for a moment, that she’s given too much away. Then there is the soft press of Ava’s lips against her cheek and the even softer, “My very favorite person.”

The burner phone in her pocket buzzes just under an hour later. She takes it out and sees, in a code she can actually read with ease, a location. She types back, simply, “Knock, knock.” A moment later, it buzzes again, “Banana.” This is nonsense, but it’s nonsense only Camila would know.

Ava’s rocking back and forth, turned away from the Rembrandt and toward Beatrice, coiled and ready. She wants to tuck the phone away, just as she did her coded cross, and say to Ava, “How do you feel about another museum day tomorrow?” Instead, with the smile she can manage, she says, “Looks like we’re going to the movies.”

Ava flips her cap back around and takes her hand. “Fun. Oh, Bea! Can we get popcorn?”

Beatrice says, Ava’s hand warm in hers, “Yes.”

[alicesbread]

Lil Bea x Ich fanfic I just wrote at 3 am becouse yeah (TW: Self harm, vomiting and self image issues).

I could feel their eyes on me. Everyone was staring, but not in the way I wanted. They were horrified. Shocked. Speechless. I didn't understand why, and for the longest time, I didn't understand what was going on. Maxim yelled at me, and I froze for some seconds, before I ran upstairs as quick as I could.

I felt horrible. I felt a weird pain in my chest, and cried as I felt the need to throw up. I closed the door of my room behind me, letting the tears roll down my cheeks, as I threw the wig on the bed. The dress. The stupid dress. This was supposed to be a wonderful, memorable night, but now, it was ruined. I felt like a fool as I went into the bathroom, and knelt down in front of the toilet, nauseous as I cried. I don't know how much time I spent throwing up and crying. It felt like the longest, and most horrible time.

I scratched my arms as I cried, until i peeled off some of my skin, and I started bleeding. There were many bleeding spots, and it hurt like hell, just like my burning throat. But I didn't care about that all. I was a fool. A total idiot. After I totally emptied my stomach and had nothing left to vomit, I just sat in the corner, hugging myself and crying until I had no tears left, shaking in pain and fear.

I felt my heart stop for a brief second as someone knocked at the door. I was scared. Genually scared. I was supposed to be the main character of the party, and I was supposed to be downstairs, greeting people and celebrating. I looked horrible. Devastated. My heart raced, and I remained silent as my anxiety grew bigger and bigger. I just wanted to dissapear completely. Then, the person outside my room finally spoke up.

–Darling? Are you alright? It's me, Bee, can I come in?

Her voice, normally firm and kind of masculine, sounded very soft, and I could hear her concern. Oh, Beatrice. What would she think of me now? I looked pathetic. I remained silent, still shaking. After some seconds, she opened the door. At first she looked around, not seeming to find me in my room. I sighed.

–I'm here...

I said, almost in a whisper. She quickly heard me, and walked into the bathroom. I still remember the concern on her face as she saw me there, on the floor, looking like a total mess. She covered her mouth with her hands, as she quickly knelt down in front of me.

–Oh, dear...

Her eyes were sweet, and full of concern. I felt my heart break a little when she looked at me like that. She quickly hugged me, with one of her big, bear hugs. I didn't complain at all.

–I'm so sorry, dear... You couldn't have known...

She explained to me that Rebecca had worn that same dress to the costume ball the year before her death, and I suddenly understood everything. I felt even worse. Rebecca. Always Rebecca.

–Oh my God... I'm such an idiot, I should have known...

She quickly shook her head, still hugging me.

–No, of course not... You didn't know, it's not your fault...

She stayed there for a while, as I enjoyed her gentleness and warmth. She finally pulled away and looked at me again, even more worried. She caressed my cheek.

–Dear, have you been throwing up? You look so pale...

That's how she was. Beatrice did not have filters, and she didn't hide her thoughts. For once, I thanked that quality in her. I nodded slowly. She sighed, concerned.

–Oh, you poor thing... You must have been feeling very bad, sorry for not coming before, there was so many people...

I shook my head.

–It's okay, don't worry about It...

She looked down, thinking for a second, before sighing again.

–Alright... Come on, we need to clean you up, you're a mess, darling. Brush your teeth, I'll get the bath ready and pick another dress you can wear. You'll eat something downstairs, alright?

I nodded slowly.

–Thank you, Bee...

She cupped my face with her hands, and kissed my forhead.

–No need. Now, come on, let's get you cleaned up.

I did as she said and brushed my teeth. I didn't realize how much I had vomited, for now that I was finally a bit more calm, I noticed the emptyness in my stomach. She picked a pretty dress from my wardrobe, and filled the bathtub with warm water. We stood silent for a while, as she carefully helped me to remove my dress. I suddenly felt very ashamed for having her see my body. I didn't like It.

I think she saw that, somehow. She was very perceptive.

–Oh, come on, don't be like that. You don't need to be ashamed, you're pretty just like this, dear.

I don't know why, but Beatrice's compliments were better than any other person's. Becouse she was always honest (maybe a little too much), so whenever she said a good thing, I knew she meant it. I knew it was true in her eyes. I tried my best to smile, before stepping into the bathtub, and letting out a small sigh as the warm water touched my skin.

I closed my eyes, trying to just forget everything. Now, it was just me and her, her and me. And she was not an enemy. She was by my side. She was my friend. That thought helped me calm down a little. She helped me wash myself, and I found myself comforted by the gentle touch of her fingers on my skin. It felt very nice. She suddenly noticed the wounds on my arms, and her eyes widened in concern.

–Oh... Oh my god, dear, did you...? Oh my... These look horrible...

And there it was, my poor Bee being extremely honest once again. But... Somehow in the good sense. She looked at me, with those brown, deep eyes of hers. They were more tender and careful than Maxim's, and in other situation, they would have been happier, as well.

–Did you... Do this to yourself...?

I felt a hint of guilt in my chest. I didn't realize how much I had been scratching myself, and now that I looked at it, it was a pretty big thing. It hurt. I nodded slowly.

–I'm sorry...

My voice was very weak and quiet, but I couldn't help it. I felt like a small kid that's been caught doing something bad. For a second, I was scared that she would be mad at me. But my thoughts vanished when I felt her hand gently on my arm.

–Please... Don't be sorry. It's... It's not your fault. Just... Don't keep doing things like this, okay? Don't hurt yourself anymore.

I nodded slowly, and she sighed. She went to take a small emergency kit that she always carried with her, and started treating my wounds. It hurt, and I flinched a couple of times. But her touch was very gentle and careful, and she finally finished and put some bandaids on my wounds, after cleaning them.

–Thank you.

I smiled slightly, and I whispered. She smiled a little bit as well. Then our smiles faded. We stayed like that for some time, just enjoying the silence and the calm, between eachother. I don't know how it happened. Or when, or why. But just a few seconds after, I found my lips on hers. We were kissing.

It wasn't weird for friends to kiss, of course. We had kissed eachother before, but this time was different. We weren't greeting eachother, or saying goodbye to eachother. That kiss made no sense at all. We had no reason to kiss. I don't know why I did it. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I simply craved affection from someone. But there I was. Her lips felt soft and warm against mine, and I felt my heart flutter and I realize how good her kisses actually felt.

There was no resistence. No protest. No surprise. She just kissed back, without any visible hesitation or doubt. I wrapped my arms around the back of her neck, bringing her closer to me as I kissed her. It felt like I was kissing her somehow... Hungrily. Like I was craving it. Like I needed it. I stopped questioning the why. The how. There was no reason, but I enjoyed it. I loved It. That's everything I needed to know to keep kissing her.

After we pulled away, there were many questions in my mind. Like why my cheeks felt so hot. Why I had liked it so much. Why my heart was racing like never before inside my chest. Why I felt like I was in heaven. And why I could feel butterflies in my stomach.

I looked up at her, nervously. How would she react? Was she as confused as I was? Was she mad? Was she disgusted? Not a word came out of her. But the slight scarlet color of her cheeks and her sweet smile said everything for her. We stood there for a while, and then we laughed.

(for the 2 people in the Bea x Ich community: you're welcome 💋💋/j i know this is shit i'm just eepy)(also my first language isn't English don't judge me)

[awholelotofladybug]

Therapy 2: A Stammering Adrien AU Story

Based on this AU.

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, fan based fanfiction. The only characters or locations I own are the ones I make up.  All other fictional characters and locations of Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir are the property of Thomas Astruc. Please support the official release.

“I’m glad you came to see me today, Chloé,” said Beatrice “Bea” Lavigne, Chloé’s family therapist.

Chloé sighed. “At this point, I think I should just move in to your office.”

“I don’t think you can do that,” said Bea. “But we can, as always, talk. Your parents are very concerned. Your mother tells me you’ve been having nightmares and your father says you’ve been stress eating.”

“I work it off,” Chloé said, blushing.

Bea shook her head. “Doesn’t make it any less concerning, especially when paired with your stress nausea. Talk to me, Chloé. Why don’t we discuss one of your nightmares?”

Chloé gulped. She didn’t want to. She REALLY didn’t want to. But she knew she had to if she wanted any chance at sleeping that night. So with a deep breath, she began.

“Okay, so in this dream, there's me and four clones of me, except they're taller, have green, warty skin, long nails and sharp teeth. They put me in a glass box, and then start torturing Marinette...”

“The way you used to,” said Bea.

Chloé sighed. “Yes. Anyway, I try to stop them but I just can't break the glass. They start beating her up and mocking her. The things they did, they just got worse and worse. Next thing I know, there’s blood, Marinette starts crying, and she... she...”

Chloé couldn’t continue. She just couldn’t. The guilt, the shame, the fear, they stilled her tongue, and pierced her heart. The floodgates opened, and Chloé’s cheeks were soon stained by tears and mascara. Bea heard all she needed to hear as she handed Chloé a box of tissues.

“It all felt so real,” said Chloé as she blew her nose. “And the worst part is that I really did do those things to her. I was the bully. It was all me.”

"Yes, a very ugly truth, Chloé. But you acknowledging it is a good sign,” said Dr. Lavigne.

Chloé sniffled. “Marinette said that too.”

“Chloé, something I think you and a lot of people your age need to understand is that you can’t erase the past,” said Bea.  “All you can do is improve in the present, and hope for the future.”

Chloé sniffled again as she began to calm down. “I don’t know why I’m upset. I’ve apologized to pretty much everyone.”

“I can think of one person you haven’t apologized to. And you need her forgiveness as much as anyone else's, ” said Bea, holding up a mirror. “And you’re looking right at her.”

Chloé took the mirror, and sighed. She knew what she had to do.

“H-hello, um, me. I’m, uh, glad you’re here, because we need to talk.”

Chloé felt so awkward. She looked to her therapist, who urged her to go on. Another sigh escaped her lips before Chloé continued.

“Okay, look,” she said to her reflection. “I get it, our mom was negligent. She even taught us some bad stuff, but at the end of the day, I’m the one who decided to listen to her. I’m the one who made you, which is to say me, do all those awful things. To Marinette, to Sabrina, to Juleka, to Rose, to Nathaniel, to everyone. I did this to you, to myself. I’m the reason we were so awful, and, well... I’m sorry, Chloé. Can you ever forgive me?”

The room went quiet.

“Well, what’s your answer?”

Chloé had a picture in her mind. There was her, another her in tattered clothes and chains, and the four terrible monsters in the shape of her. Chloé helped her chained clone up and hugged her. This resulted in a blinding light that destroyed the Chloé monsters. The two Chloés merged into one. The chains came off, and back in reality, Chloé smiled at her reflection.

“I forgive you.”

Chloé sprung out of the office with a huge smile on her face. Andre and Audrey saw their happy child, and smiled themselves.

“I take it the session went well?” Andre asked.

“I think Chloé is going to be just fine,” said Bea. “The bad feelings and memories might pop back up once in a while, but I think she knows now not to beat herself up over them.”

Audrey smiled as she looked Chloé. “Bea, whatever we pay you, it’s not enough. Thank you very much.” 

Bea nodded. “All part of the job.”

The Bourgeois family left the building, and Bea felt a spark of satisfaction, knowing that another young Parisian left her office with hope for a brighter tomorrow.

[quill-pen]

Scrooge Fanfiction Masterlist

One-shots (Start off as ScroogeXReader then changes to ScroogeXOC as the insert became hr own characters but the idea remains the same)

~Blessing SFW: Scrooge reassures his reader!wife of his love and adoration for her.

A Christmas Confession pt. 1 SFW: On their first Christmas as a married couple, Scrooge and Reader host a Christmas party and put the children to bed with dreams of Santa and sugarplums dancing through their heads.

A Christmas Confession pt. 2 SFW: Still on their first Christmas as a married couple, Reader finally comes to clean to Ebenezer about her feelings for him, despite how she fears his rejection. His response is incredible.

~Not Over Quickly NSFW: While sharing a passionate night with wife!reader, Ebenezer makes something happen that's never happened before.

Making TikToks with Ebenezer pt.? SFW: Modern AU--Ebenezer suggests making a TikTok with you and surprises you with what the subject is.

~Sexy, unnamed fic inspired by prompt 1 NSFW: A snuggly, bookish evening turns a little steamy because Bess just can't keep her hands off her handsome hubby.

Custard, Strawberries, and April Fools prompt inspired 2 SFW: Just a lovely spring picnic between a loving and sweet couple.

~Welcomes Home prompt inspired 3 SFW: Ebenezer returns home to find Bess away. Yet even in her absence, she manages to welcome him home.

Cute, untitled fic inspired by prompt 4 SFW: A sugary sweet moment between our OTP.

~Just so Punny NSFW: Scrooge really does not appreciate puns.

A Good Cowgirl NSFW: Bess is a very good cowgirl--just ask Ebenezer.

~Like George SFW: Some insight into Bess' relationships with some of the main men in her life.

Toddie vs. Ebeness NSFW-ish: Just a comparison of two of my favorite ships in my Scroogeverse.

~She-Wolf NSFW: Just a little passionate doggy-style between our wolfish soulmates.

A Good Man SFW: Ebenezer Scrooge is a good man; Bess just wishes he could see it as easily as she can.

~Somewhere Out There SFW: Bess goes through a rough break-up with her fiancé.

The Queen's Protector NSFW: Bess receives some unwanted attention from another man and Ebenezer comes to her aid.

~Storm Shelter SFW: Bess goes into a spiral after a suffering flashback from her childhood.

Fear the Big Bad Wolf SFW: Ebenezer comforts Bess and makes promises to her after she reveals threatening information.

~In Your Corner SFW: Bess has a rough morning and Ebenezer comforts her.

~Boss (continuation of 'In Your Corner') SFW: Bess finally lays down the law with her housekeeper.

A Father's Regret SFW: Jacob Marley pays another ghostly visit.

~Domesticity SFW: Bess finally makes Scrooge Manor her home.

Deep NSFW: Those hands are magical.

~ Bess SFW: A sorry attempt at poetry based on the moment Ebenezer meets Bess for the first time.

Forever SFW: A comparison of Bess' and Ebenezer's wedding and Bea's and Jacob's wedding. From both the women's and men's perspectives.

~Powder Room NSFW-ish: A short little drabble/thot about our minxy otp.😉

A Good Day to Die NSFW: Another short drabble about some spicy office lovin'.

~A Quiet Evening SFW: In the Sims Scrooge timeline, Bess and Ebenezar--also known as Wolf--share a romantic evening together.

The Wolf & The Moon SFW: Another sorry attempt at poetry.😬

~Tattoo SFW: A little ficlet about a conversation between modern!Bess and Ebenezer concerning scars and tattoos.

Goosebumps SFW: A little poem-ish drabble about our dear former miser through the eyes of his beloved wife.

~Red NSFW: A small drabble centering around a pair of lingerie and the color red. Featuring our beloved wolf-motifed couple.

Pearls SFW: Ethel Cratchit never liked pearls. But she still wanted them because of what they'd come to symbolize for her.

~Blue Moon SFW: Blue moons should be blue. And come in pairs.

Angel SFW: A poem by our favorite former miser as he slowly realizes his love for a freckle-faced, blue-eyed, black-haired American.

~My Bess NSFW: A steamy moment of passion between our favorite pair.

Meet the Scrooges pt. 1 SFW: In the Sims 4 Scroogeverse, Ebenezar--a.k.a. Wolf--finally takes his new wife, Bess, to meet her in-laws.

~ That's Why They're 'The Wolves' NSFW: A little thot set in the Timeless Scroogeverse concerning why our favorite couple are called "The Wolves".

Jealousy SFW (but littered with crude language and overall toxicity): Bess gets engaged. She is thrilled. Oliver and Abigail are not.

~My Big Sister by Millicent Sullivan-Scrooge SFW: A draft of a report Millie writes and reads in one of my fics.

The Declaration SFW: In the DND Scroogeverse, ex-warrior-priestess Bess puts herself between the werewolf she loves and those who would threaten him.

~Draped in Moonbeams NSFW: Ebenezer comes home to a rather lovely surprise awaiting him in the master bedroom.

Timeless Firsts with the Girls: Kisses--Addie SFW: In the Timeless Scroogeverse, Addie tells the girls her experience of being kissed by Tom Jenkins for the first time

~The Milkmaid Dress NSFW: In a modern Scroogeverse, Bess buys a dress and her beloved hubby takes it upon himself to leave a review.

A Red Sunrise: A Timeless Scroogeverse Tale SFW (unless you're squeamish about blood and menstrual issues): On Bess first official weekend staying over at her beau's, she has an unexpected visit from Aunt Flo.

[st8rrywrites]

SEVENTEEN - CHAPTER TWO

FEMALE OC - SKYLAR SLADE

BLURB: What lingers in the darkness should be left alone. Especially when its least expected. Being seventeen never had its perks and this was one reason why. What do you do when you feel like someone is coming after you and all you can do is plague those thoughts alone?

WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, mentions of paranoia, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks.

WORD COUNT: 4050 words

-

CHAPTER TWO:

The night club was far from pleasant. The sweaty atmosphere of a bunch of drunk teenagers all swaying and shoving into each other whilst the dim lights leave barely any sight to see where you’re going wasn’t down Skylar’s street at all but she wasn’t doing this for her, she was doing this for her friends. All she had to do was stay here for two hours minimum and she could be back underneath her sheets, laughing about how the night actually wasn’t that bad and that as much as she couldn’t face the outside world she was going to have to put up with it and act like every other human being on this earth.

Five minutes into the night, she had already excused herself to go to the bathroom to calm herself down and reassure herself that everything would be okay. It wasn’t as easy as you would think to calm her racing heart down, the booming sounds of the music from the speakers echoed in her chest. Another banging could be heard. Maybe she was hearing things? No this was definitely happening in real time.

A meek voice pulled Skylar out of her trance, “Skylar? Are you in there?”.

Rose’s voice questioned, silently wishing that her friend wouldn’t just trap herself in a stuffy cubicle all night. Rose wanted Skylar to have fun, its all she wished for. No-one should have to go through the crippling anxiety Skylar felt but Rose has always thought she could pull Skylar out of that black hole and hopefully experience the only few good days she had left until she would be turning into an adult. Now was the time she had to face her fears for if she didn’t then she would be stuck forever. Gathering herself, she steadily opened the cubicle door to be met with a soft face. One of concern laced with empathy.

“Come on, let’s go get some drinks and soon enough your worries will be behind you, don’t worry about being left alone, I’ll be by your side the whole night.” Rose shared.

Those words in themselves made Skylar feel less anxious, setting off towards the bar with her best friend right by her side.

When it came to drinking, Rose went all out. Especially at home. When she would have gatherings, she would make all sorts of concoctions. Bloody Mary’s, sex on the beach’s, jelly shots, and then the basics, cider, vodka, champagne, wine (red and white), lager, you name it and she had it. So Skylar just got handed whatever Rose knew was her favourite.

Walking back to the group after what had just gone down in the past ten minutes was embarrassing to say the least. Even if Skylar didn’t show it on her face, her body language made it very clear. But her friends were understanding, that’s who they were.

The whole group consisted of six people in total, There was Leyla who was the oldest of the group, Bea, who was the second oldest, then there was of course Skylar who was surprisingly the third oldest in the group which you would never of guessed, Rose was the fourth oldest, Belle was then the fifth oldest, and then Rory was the youngest of the group. Every single one of them had made Skylar’s life considerably better in high school and to be honest if it wasn’t for making those friends in high school, she would be so lost right now. Skylar was closest with Rose which was already so telling but she adored each and every one of her friends because deep down she knew that people actually did care for her. It was just hard to come to the realisation that this was the case because her whole life the voices in her head had put her down so hard that she got used to them, so trying to dig out of that deep hole wasn’t easy.

Leyla already had her license, she passed when she was still seventeen, which opened up endless amount of opportunities for the group to do. However, that excluded Skylar from all of this because she was too in her own head that she couldn’t make time to go out with her friends. Even if she did go out she would just be too engrossed inside her head to make out all the conversations that were pooling around the group.

When Skylar had first met Leyla, she was scared, not in a bad way, just that Leyla was known a stranger to her. When she first joined, Skylar peeked down. It wasn’t Leyla’s fault at all! It’s just that this was a whole new person that’s just come into her life and it takes a long time to fully be herself around strangers. It took quite a while to even feel comfortable to speak properly whilst Leyla was around, but when she did, she realised that there was no judgement on her part of who Skylar truly was. Leyla was a really put together person, even if she didn’t think so herself, Skylar thought it was admirable. Keeping down a job, working long hours, and still being able to go out and have fun. That in itself was something Skylar could only dream of being able to do. On top of that, she was gorgeous. She had the confidence, style, and the looks. Which yet again is something Skylar wishes she could have.

To say Skylar despised the way she looked was an understatement. She hated her face, her body, her hair, any aspect that other would compliment would be flushed out straight away because she couldn’t believe it. She felt like lies were the only thing that could spew out of her friends or family’s mouths sometimes. How could someone hate themselves so much? It was pretty easy for her to feel like that, it felt like a second hand thought to her at the end of the day. No-one has taken a picture of her in years, she hates it. She can’t ever describe the feeling of when she looks back on a picture, it’s an indescribable, hopeless pit. ‘Do I really look like that?’, ‘Everyone else looks like how I see them, so is that how I truly see myself?’, ‘I feel sick’, is what ran through her head so much that she stopped even taking pictures of herself. She’d push the thoughts aside. If she wasn’t taking a picture, or someone else was, or avoiding any reflective surface, then she could go on about her day and only picture what she looks like. Which she was contempt to her, that’s how she liked it.

One memory that sticks, is when everyone was round at Rose’s house. Everyone was chatting away whilst Skylar was still coming down from an anxiety attack. She hadn’t seen her friends in so long that that was the thing to cause her attack in the first place. She thought she had well and truly lost it. If she can’t even stick around her friends without having an anxiety attack, then how was she going to get a job? Once the panic started to settle, she felt herself grow more happy with being there, catching up with how her friends lives were going. After about roughly an hour and a half, a few people were tipsy or drunk. ‘This is fun’ Skylar thought to herself. She even started bringing up dancing and Leyla was so down to do it with her. Grabbing the remote, she put on the just dance version of Rasputin. Now anyone who has done this dance would know that it’s a lot of movement, it indeed was. Bea had joined in at this point and we were all filming it and giggling to themselves, just letting the burdens of what was to come tomorrow and the days after off their shoulders. You could tell that Leyla was drunk, and Skylar was tipsy, it was heaven. Maybe one of the only times she actually felt free and could be herself in the limelight of her friends. By the end of it all three of them were panting and trying to catch their breaths. Bliss. The only word that could be used to describe that moment. She had completely forgot that she was acting to her true self. Leyla on the floor, spread out and Bea taking pictures of her whilst laughing at how funny she looked right now, whilst Skylar was sat back down just reminiscing on what had just happened. That was one of the memories she could remember vividly where her and Leyla had a good time together.

Bea was only a few days older than Skylar, back when Bea had joined school late, she was the talk of the year, and hell, Skylar understood why. Bea was the person only people could dream of being friends with. The thing Skylar admired the most about Bea was that she had gone through so much and still managed to flash a smile on her face. Honestly, one of the strongest people she knew. Every time everyone would hang out, she always checked up on Skylar if she noticed that she was being a bit more distant or away in her thoughts, Skylar would never voice that her words alone made her feel better. Just the simple check up truly made Skylar believe that the doubtful thoughts of having no-one that cared for her would vanish in a second. There was a huge difference between the girls who were only a few days apart in age. Going out. Most nights, Bea was out with all types of different friend groups. Skylar only knew this because she would sent multiple pictures and videos of what she was doing at that time. FOMO – fear of missing out, was a massive part of Skylar’s life. It had pretty much been a burden since she turned the ripe age of thirteen. Jealousy was normal for any teenage girl. But she just couldn’t shake the feeling when she would see each and every picture/video that ‘what was so wrong with her that she couldn’t be like this and live this life like Bea was?’. Overall, she was just grateful that their paths had met. Being in the last year of school, you don’t expect anyone new to be joining the year because this is the year where you take your GCSE’s, and it would be a tough struggle to catch up with the previous years of learning in only less than one. And by the end of the year, Bea had worked extremely hard to achieve the grades she wanted, and everyone was so proud of her for how she had adapted to the whole new environment and just put her head down and tried her best. If she had never moved schools in the first place, she would of never of met Bea. It always puzzles her when she thinks about it because like everything, if you hadn’t done that one thing then you might not be where you’re at right now. Bea knew all the gossip, even if Skylar never had a clue who the people she was talking about were, it was slightly amusing to see what people around her were getting up to.

Then there was Rose. The one Skylar was closest to. Skylar had met Rose back in year seven through mutual friends, however, they didn’t become friends until year eight and from then on they were practically inseparable. Except for year nine. But we don’t talk about that incident. Rose had always been there for Skylar, every single time she had been swept over with her depressive states, to each and every panic attack she’d experienced. At the end of the day, Rose seemed to be able to help Skylar in making her overcome the worries that would flood through her head. They had met on one instance before high school had even started but Rose would never remember that. She had the poorest memory ever.

The summer before the nerve wracking start at high school, Skylar had gone with her sister to a trampoline park. They were queuing up ready for their hour slot at the park when she overheard a minor conversation in front of her. It was something along the lines of “I can’t wait to start at Trinity High School!”. Now this was what perked Skylar’s ears up in the first place. She was going to the same school as these two girls in front of her. As soon as she had heard the words come out of their mouths, her head whipped around to look straight at her sister, the same bewildered facial expression was plastered on both of their faces. She still remembers vividly that Rose had dip dyed pink on top of her natural blonde hair, and the other girl had dip dyed blue on top of her also natural blonde, wavy hair. Not even a year later, and she would be friends with one of these girls and would introduce her to the best friendship she’s ever had.

Skylar admired so much about Rose. The list could go on for hours if she wanted. If she had to pick only one though, it would be her ability to stand up for herself. Any sort of confrontation or argument that fizzled it’s way into Skylar’s life, caused her immense amounts of distress. So much distress that it could make her physically sick.

However, Skylar never felt as if she had to hold back when explaining her various fears to her friends, especially Rose and Rory who understood the darkness depression and anxiety brought to lives. It was something Skylar could hardly put into words. Some days it would be a specific feeling lurking behind her almost similar to the feeling of forgetting something and feeling all eyes on you as if you had made a huge fool out of yourself, when in reality you were alone in your teenage bedroom. Or in Skylar’s case, she always was. Alone. In her teenage bedroom. Other days this feeling crept in front of her as if it was the only thing she could feel or think about. It was almost as overwhelming as drowning. The feeling of needing to breathe, but all the air was sucked from your lungs and the water was rising. That was until Skylar realised there was no water, and it was just a feeling she would have to become familiar with. Fortunately for her, Skylar had certain friends which could help her with this, draining the water from the pool she was drowning in. Removing the plug. Adding more oxygen. Skylar often felt alone in this world. Like the only girl in the world, even if swarmed around by people. It was a feeling she could only dream of escaping. But these friends made it just that little bit easier of being alone. Alone but not lonely.

There was one instance, when Skylar’s phone was blowing up. Her friends messages. Constant. Yet this drowning feeling wouldn’t escape. She was being dragged under. Her thoughts wouldn’t stop pouring. Just as she was on the verge of ending it all. Drowning. For real. She checked her messages. Almost immediately. Rose would call this fate. “Always remember everything happens for a reason Skylar, it will lead to better things” is what Rose miraculously tried to enforce into Skylar’s brain no matter how long it took. Always so persistent. She looked at her messages. Floods of questions Skylar couldn’t even process of answering right then. “are you okay?” “how are you?” “what’s up?” “why aren’t you replying?” “what’s wrong with you?” what’s wrong with you. A question Skylar could only dream of having the answer to.it was that moment Skylar realised she wasn’t okay. She thought about those questions for hours that night. Laid in her now cold bath water until her fingers were wrinkly. Am I okay? She thought to herself. She was tired. So tired. Her body almost as if on its own was slowly sliding into the water. Her face almost engulfed by a layer of water, until her phone rang, and rang. And rang. She shot up, answering it without even looking at the caller Id.

“what is it.” She demanded

“hi love, just checking in. I haven’t heard off you for days, I was about to send out a search party.” Rose giggled.

“I’m busy, I’ve got to go” were the only words that slipped out of Skylar’s now dry mouth.

“okay.. well please stay in tou-“ rose attempted to reply, but instead she was faced with the ending of the call due to Skylar’s anxious cancellation of the call.

Guilt.

 Guilt was another feeling Skylar couldn’t escape. She felt bad for how she reacted. Out of impulse. As a defence mechanism. Guarding her true feelings. Like an armour. A shield. All she wanted in that moment was to pour her heart out to rose, all her friends. The whole world even. But she couldn’t. there weren’t enough words in the English dictionary for her to express her thoughts. So she shut them off. Everyone. Everyone who helped her. Or at least tried to.

It happened that night too. Skylar had just finished her 7th drink of the night. The feeling of freeness and euphoria others often felt were masked as anxiety and paranoia as she scanned her eyes over the crowded club. I need to get out of here. Now. Her only thoughts as she glanced at her friends smiling beside her. Without another word she walked towards the green exit sign lit above the door. The sign she noticed straight away. Almost as if it was her aim to follow it the whole night. As she took a few more steps she felt her arm being slightly pulled behind her. She turned around in confusion, until she was met with the faces of all 5 of her closest friends. Rose, Bea, Leyla, Belle and Rory.

“and where do you think you’re going?” boomed Bea.

“Skylar come have a drink!” Leyla beamed as she offered her a selection of bottles of alcohol in her hands, in which she only imaged were bought for her by the variety of men she was flirting with most the night.

As Skylar thought about what to reply, the truth or a lie? The only words that left her mouth, ever so quietly were; “ I cant do this. I’m sorry. My mums outside, I’m going home” she lied. Her mother was in fact not outside. Or on her way.

She now had to find a way to get home, as quick as possible.

Great, Skylar thought.

If only she could teleport.

As Skylar felt the cool fresh air brush over her, she let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Her muscles relaxed, almost automatically as her eyes scanned around the empty streets and alleys she was faced with before her, for any signs of transportation. Bus stops, train stations, taxis. A dodgy white van slowly driving past even. She would do anything to lie in the comfort of her own bed right now. As she realised there were no forms of getting home in the snap of a finger as she hoped she reached for her phone which she for once didn’t have glued to her hands, as her parents like o refer to it. “maybe if you went outside once in a while and got off your phone, you wouldn’t feel like this.” Like this. What even is this feeling? She glanced down at her phone – which was on do not disturb ( like always) – and momentarily rolled her eyes as she was faced with the fact it would be almost impossible to go find a way home at 2;44am in the small local area 2 miles away from her house.

Skyla never referred to her house as her home. She believed home was a feeling more then a place. There were moments where she believed she was there. Little snippets when laughing until she couldn’t breathe with her best friends or listening to music until her eardrums could most likely bleed in her bedroom. But the more she overthought, the more she debated whether she’s ever really felt at home.

Walking was out of option. It would take her two hours to walk home, a twenty minute drive. But a two hour drive.

If only she could teleport.

She began to search on her phone for possible solutions. She tried everything. Buses, trains. She even attempted to find the courage to ring a taxi service in which she was glad was out of service due the fact it was a bank holiday. Great. Thoughts of doubt flooded her mind as she contemplated going back in to her friends until they left. That was also out of the picture. She couldn’t face it again. Walking through the doors, alone. Searching through the sweaty crowd for her most likely drunk friends until they felt the need to finally leave. In which, in this case wouldn’t be for hours knowing her friends.

As these thoughts circled through her mind she looked down on to her phone with the aim of calling one of her parents, preferably her mother to pick her up with hopes that she’d wake up within 2 rings. She took a deep breath in as her finger hovered over the call button, just wishing her mother would understand.

After the first 17 calls, unanswered Skylar began to think walking or crawling at this point may be the only way to return to her comfort zone.

If only she could teleport.

That was until she saw the puff of smoke float past the corner of her eye, in which she’d bet on her life the she saw it and felt the presence of someone next to her. Someone unfamiliar. She creeped to the left, where it came from. No one was there. Okay that was weird. It’s not like Skylar didn’t already feel like her sanity was slipping away slowly, but something about this instance just felt so unlike anything she had felt before.

In the end, she decided to just sit patiently and anticipate when her friends would appear, stumbling out of the club.

Two hours later ( the amount of time it would of taken to get back to her house), Skylar’s ears perk up at the familiar sound of one of her friends giggles. Thank god. She had started to feel a throbbing pulse pulling at her head an hour ago, as she had been resting them in between the comfort of her own two legs. Too afraid to face the outside world again after the incident that had happened just mere hours ago.

“Skylar?” Rory questioned whilst in a fit of giggles as to why her friend was out here, crouched down on the filthy ground, in the freezing cold.

“What are you doing out here? Why are you still here?” Belle asked timidly.

Because the state that Skylar was currently in, didn’t look approachable in the slightest. Her whole body quivering as she looks up to five pairs of eyes, all with the same worn on expression, like they had just copied and pasted one facial expression and slapped it onto all their faces. Every one of them except Belle were drunk off their heads, so this whole situation just turned to mush in their brains and instead of asking any more questions, they set off towards the car. All except Belle, who helped Skylar off the floor and held on tight to her trembling figure as she lead them in the direction of where everyone else was heading.

‘Who was that?’

‘Surely there was someone there right? Or do I really need to start worrying about my sanity?’

‘Why won’t this god awful feeling go away? It feels like something is about to go terribly wrong.’

Were what ran through her head as she studied the outside world as if to ask if they had the answer to these questions. Something was seriously wrong and even her friends could tell which was a sign in itself.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 379. brb x oc

a/n: LET ME POOOST (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: just some suggestive stuff uwu

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

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363/364/365/366

/367/368/369/370/371/372/373/374/375/376/377

(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 @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

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

-

Nicole was a good baby, a great baby…but,she was a baby. So when she sees something shiny or something that calls her attention, she’ll go for it. She watches as Beatrice and Rooster walk around inside the house.

A day after his promotion, he was almost ready to leave again. Beatrice frowns, leaning against the wall as Nicole waddles over Rooster’s coat - the medals shining as Bea hung it on the wall- “When are you leaving?” she asks.

Rooster arches his brow, “In a week. Everything is still…going since I just got promoted.”

“Do you know for how long you’ll be deployed?”

Rooster sighed, running a hand through his hair as he considered Beatrice's question. "Not exactly," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It could be a few months, or it could be longer. It all depends on the mission and how things unfold."

Beatrice's heart sank at Rooster's words, a wave of anxiety washing over her "I hate not knowing," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rooster reached out to take Beatrice's hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I know, baby," he murmured, squeezing her hand tightly. "But we've been through this before, and we'll get through it again. Together."

Beatrice nodded, forcing a smile as she looked up at Rooster. "Yeah,you're right," she replied, her voice filled with determination. “And…you are a LC now,right?” she smiles more, albeit still nervous, “...is…it possible it’ll be more dangerous?”

Rooster nodded solemnly, his expression serious as he met Beatrice's gaze. "Yeah, it's possible," he admitted, his voice tinged with concern. "With the new rank comes new responsibilities, and that often means being on the front lines more often."

Beatrice's heart skipped a beat at Rooster's words, a surge of fear coursing through her veins. "Oh…I…I'm already so worried about you, and now knowing that you'll be in even more danger...it's almost too much to even think about."

Rooster reached out to cup Beatrice's face in his hands, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Hey, hey, look at me," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "We knew this was a possibility when I joined the Navy. And while it's not easy, we've always found a way to make it work. We'll get through this together, just like we always do."

She frowns then leaned into Rooster's touch, seeking comfort in his embrace. "I know," she replied, her voice choked with emotion. "But it doesn't make it any easier. I just...I don't want to lose you, Rooster. You mean everything to me."

Wow, what a fucking way to make both of them feel like shit. She winced internally for saying it outloud, “I’m sorry,I…it’s not fair for me to say this.”

Rooster's heart ached at Beatrice's words and he gently wiped away a tear that had escaped her eye, his touch tender and loving. "Hey, don't apologize," he murmured "You have every right to feel scared and worried. But I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to come back to you, safe and sound."

Beatrice nodded, her throat tight with emotion as she leaned into Rooster's embrace. "I know you will," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I'll be here waiting for you, every step of the way."

“I know,gorgeous.” he whispers, kissing her forehead, looking down just in time to see Nicole touching his coat, the shiny medals with wide eyes, ‘Listen, you know how it is,right?’

“I do.”

“I’m not saying to get used to it, hell I sometimes need to get better at it but…I’ll be back,for you.” over time he started to believe in himself even more, perhaps the fear of ending like his dad did finally diminished, “For all of you,okay?”

Beatrice nodded, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the man standing before her. "I know you will," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "And I'll be counting down the days until you come back to us."

‘It won’t be until a week.’ he kisses her forehead before he lets her go, leaning down to pick Nicole and kiss her cheek loudly, the toddler gurgling and giggling as he does so, “We still have time until then.”

“Yeah, you are right.”

“For example,today,.” he spins Nikki around, leaving her upside down with her little legs kicking in the air, “We are going to go to the doctor and see how the twins are,right?’ she nods, “It’ll be all good, you won’t even blink and I’ll be back home.”

“I know.” she smiles, “I can’t help it, I worry about you a lot. And I worry even more if I can’t see you.”

Rooster's heart swelled with love at Beatrice's words, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I understand," he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. "But I promise you, I'll stay in touch as much as I can."

Beatrice smiled gratefully at Rooster, "Thank you," she replied, her voice tinged with emotion. "That means a lot to me."

With a final squeeze of Beatrice's hand, Rooster stood up and set Nicole back down on the ground, her giggles echoing through the room. "Alright, little one," he said, his voice playful as he tousled her hair. "Let's go get ready to take your siblings to  see the doctor."

Nicole clapped her hands excitedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Doctor!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Looks like someone's excited," she teased, reaching down to scoop Nicole into her arms. "Let's go get ready, sweetheart. Can you get the twins,Roos?"

Rooster nodded, a smile on his lips as he watched Beatrice and Nicole head towards the oldest Bradshaw’s room. "Sure thing," he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I'll go get them ready while you and Nicole get ready, okay?"

Beatrice smiled at Rooster, before disappearing through the door  "Thank you, Roos."

With that, Rooster made his way to the twins' room,he pushed open the door and was greeted with the sight of the twins, sound asleep in their cribs.

Rooster smiled tenderly at the sight of his sleeping children, his heart overflowing with love for them. He carefully picked up each of them, cradling them in his arms as he whispered soothing words to them.

"Good morning, little ones," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to each of their foreheads. "It's time to wake up and get ready to go see the doctor."

The twins stirred awake at Rooster's touch, their eyes fluttering open as they gazed up at him with sleepy smiles. Rooster chuckled softly, his heart melting at the sight of their adorable faces.

"Hey there, sleepyheads," he teased, gently rocking them in his arms. "Are you ready to go see the doctor?"

The twins giggled in response, reaching out to grab at Rooster's fingers as he carried them out of their room and towards the living room. Beatrice and Nicole were already there, getting ready to leave for the doctor's appointment.

"Looks like we're all ready to go," he said, his voice quiet. "Let's head out and make sure the twins are healthy and happy."

Beatrice nodded in agreement, a warm smile on her lips as she took Nicole's hand in hers. "Sounds like a plan," she replied,"Let's go make sure our little ones are in tip-top shape. I already put everything else in the car."

“Perfect,” he says as he sets Gavin and Aurora in their respective carriers, “No,no,” he smirks when she tries to help, “I can carry them, just focus on closing the door,gorgeous,sounds good?”

Beatrice chuckled softly at Rooster's insistence, nodding in agreement as she focused on closing the front door behind them. She couldn't help but admire the way Rooster effortlessly carried the twins, he looked so…attractive, my god.

With the twins securely fastened in their carriers, Rooster and Beatrice made their way out to the car. Beatrice helped Nicole into her car seat before climbing into the passenger seat herself, while Rooster carefully loaded the twins into their car seats in the back.

He walks around and towards the driver’s seat, smiling at her, “Ready?”

Beatrice smiled back at Rooster, latching on her seatbelt. "Ready as I'll ever be," she replied, “Everyone is latched back there too.”

Rooster nodded, his smile widening as he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The car hummed softly as they made their way towards the doctor's office, the early morning light casting a warm glow across the landscape.

As they drove, Beatrice couldn't help but steal glances at Rooster, admiring the way his hands gripped the steering wheel…and she couldn’t help but remember how those hands—at the base…well.

Rooster glanced over at Beatrice, catching her eye and smiling warmly at her. "What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, his voice filled with curiosity.

Beatrice blushed, feeling a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. "Just how lucky I am to have you," she replied honestly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're an amazing father, Rooster. And I love you more than words can say."

Rooster's smile softened at Beatrice's words, his heart swelling with love for her. "I love you too," he murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Gonna make me blush,gorgeous.”

“I do try.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts as they made their way through the quiet streets. Beatrice couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the pit of her stomach, the fear of what could happen to Rooster weighing heavily on her mind.

Rooster glanced over at Beatrice, sensing her unease. "Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "Are you okay? You seem a little quiet."

Beatrice forced a smile, trying to push aside her worries for the sake of their children. "I'm fine," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Just a little nervous about the doctor's appointment, that's all."

Rooster reached over and squeezed her hand, his touch warm and comforting. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice gentle even thought he knew it was more than that. "Everything will be fine. The twins are healthy, you’ll see."

Beatrice nodded, "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. "I know they’ll be okay.”

Rooster smiled reassuringly at Beatrice, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I promise," he said sincerely, "I'll be right there with you every step of the way. And if there's anything wrong, we'll  figure it out."

"Okay," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Rooster."

With that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued their journey to the doctor's office. The streets were quiet and empty, thank god, which was a surprise considering it was the beginning of the week, “So.” she begins, tapping her thighs, “You said you’d be more, you know, ‘in the front’ now that you got promoted…what does that include exactly?”

“You mean,mission wise?” she nods and he purses his lips, “Hm…well…do you want the boring version or the short version,gorgeous?”

Beatrice chuckled softly at Rooster's question, her curiosity piqued. "I'll take the short version, please," she replied,. "I trust you to give me the highlights."

Rooster grinned at Beatrice's response, "Alright then," he began, his voice laced with excitement. "Basically, my new role involves overseeing a team of pilots and coordinating missions with other branches of the military." he mutters, “I think I said that before, but…basically,yeah, it’s a lot of shit going on.”

“...okay,sorry,” she laughs softly, “I’m just…really trying to not worry already and I’m failing…already.”

Rooster reached over and squeezed Beatrice's hand again, his touch warm "Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I've got your back,okay?”

“Okay.”

“Really okay?”

She chuckles softly, “...yeah,really okay.”

Rooster leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to Beatrice's forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. "Atta girl," he whispered, “We’ll be alright,I promise.”

With that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued their journey to the doctor's office. As they pulled into the parking lot of the doctor's office, Beatrice felt a surge of anxiety wash over her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as Rooster parked the car and turned off the engine.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly, his gaze soft and reassuring as he looked at her.

Not really. Not really…she didn’t know why this time it hurt to imagine him far away, away from her, away from her protection - god what was happening with her anyway? She trusted him, she trusted how good he was…hell she was overreacting.

Are you? the goblin voice whispers in her ear, You sure?

And she inhales, shakily, slapping on a small smile, “I am, yeah, let’s go,Roos.”

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, November 19th

DARLA: Why is everybody trying to make this about Angel?! I mean, for God's sake, can't a woman wreak a little havoc without there being a man involved?

~~Redefinition~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

I lesbian you by f0rest_crypt1d (Buffy/Willow, G)

"Offer me that deathless death / Good God, let me give you my life" by f0rest_crypt1d (Buffy/Spike, T)

L is for the way you look at me by prose-for-hire (Lorne/reader, not rated)

A Little Lost, We Might Fit In by nastieswewhispered (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

This is All Andrew's Fault! by rkm (Buffy/Spike, R)

Word's Out by hysteriumredux (Faith, multiple crossovers, FR7)

The Doctor and the Champion by DoctorSkywalker (Angel, Doctor Who/Torchwood crossover, FR15)

[Chaptered Fiction]

You Can't Fight Fate - But You Can Probably Piss Him Off, Chapter 51 by Hermione2be (Faith/Bruce Wayne, Batman crossover, T)

Sandy Places in Tomorrow, Chapter 41 by Raihne (Xander/Spike, M)

Different Lives, Chapter 42 by BuffyBot3000 (Faith/Tara, E)

Steve: The Vampire Hunter, Chapter 13 by Marsetta (Ensemble, Stranger Things crossover, T)

Charmed and Chosen, Chapter 10 by QuillBard (Buffy/Faith, Charmed crossover, M)

Since You’ve Been Gone, Chapter 3 by HuonParticlesAreHarmless, myrobotheart (Buffy/Giles, Stargate crossover, M)

A New Family for Buffy, Chapter 31 by BrennaLynn (Buffy/Faith, Charmed crossover, T)

Dawn of the Caribbean 2: Dawn of Time, Chapter 21 by BrennaLynn (Dawn/OC, Pirates of the Caribbean crossover, T)

Dawn of the Caribbean 3: Dawn of the Pack, Chapter 21 by BrennaLynn (Buffy & Dawn, Women of the Otherworld crossover, T)

Charmed: Another Halliwell, Chapter 13 by BrennaLynn (Buffy/Dawn, Charmed crossover, T)

Slayer Begins, Chapter 10 by BrennaLynn (Buffy/Bruce Wayne, Batman crossover, T)

What Lies Within, Chapter 7 by cawthraven (Buffy/Spike, E)

Oxnard to Glory, Chapters 1-4 (complete!) by scarecrow_horses, tabaqui (Xander/Spike, E)

SNAFU, Chapters 1-5 (complete!) by scarecrow_horses, tabaqui (Xander/Spike, E)

Buffy 2.0, Chapters 1-4 by BlueZeroZeroOne (Buffy, Buffybot, M)

Everlasting Love, Chapters 1-5 (complete!) by Amejisuto (Xander/Spike, E)

Slaying Through Time, Chapter 3 by refusetoshine (Scoobies, Star Trek: The Next Generation crossover, T)

Anything You Can Do, Chapter 11 by Daxeah (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Darkest Before the Dawn, Chapter 66 by Luna (Buffy, Lord of the Rings crossover, FR15)

Something Strange This Way Comes... Chapter 5 by ShadowMaster (Scoobies, DC Universe crossover, FR21)

The Sky Opens Up, Things Doth Die, Chapter 5 by ShadowMaster (Xander, Utawarerumono/Rurouni Kenshin crossover, FR21)

Plastic Hearts, Chapter Eight by PatriciaLouise (Dawn, Marvel comics crossover, FR18)

The Courage Of Another, Chapter 2 by BlueZeroZeroOne (Buffy, Legend of Zelda crossover, FR18)

The Broken That is Lost Amidst Stardust, Chapter 1 by ShadowMaster (Xander, Star Wars crossover, FR21)

Consequences of Bargaining, Chapter 26 by All4Spike (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: BTVS “Every Outfit” “Listening to Fear” by whatshisfaceblogs (worksafe)

Artwork: Xander, Willow and Buffy in Halloween by artsying-ifer (worksafe)

Artwork: Buffy The Vampire Vs Faith The Vampire Slayer by Shannon Mear (worksafe)

Artwork: Buffy doodles by jadeyarts (Buffy, Drusilla, Spike, worksafe)

Artwork: Buffy and Spike in shorts and crop tops by isevery0nehereverystoned (probably NSFW)

Artwork: Buffy/Faith and Angel by punksouthie (worksafe)

Artwork: Concern by Sofya Créations (Buffy & Spike Fool for Love porch scene, worksafe)

Artwork: Buffy S11 comics remastered by l0veisntbrains (worksafe)

Gifs: He is in my heart by andremichaux (worksafe)

Cartoon: The Hero of Three Faces by Paul Gadzikowski (Spike)

Artwork: Sailor Spuffy’s Tattoo Parlor, Chapter 6 by cawthraven (worksafe)

Fanvid: soldier poet king by Bea Jack (Buffy/Riley, Buffy/Spike, Buffy/Angel)

Vidlet: Dark willow|buffy edit by Strange insect

[Reviews & Recaps]

Video: Angel and Choice Analysis by Becoming Buffy Podcast

Podcast: 7.5 – "Selfless" by Beep Me Pod

[Recs]

Reaction video rec: darcie's watching buffy by 147days

[Fandom Discussions]

the shitshow that was seasons six and seven by badrecognition

Buffy feeling responsible for Spike in in Season 7 by badrecognition

Headcanon: Angel buying Buffy a class ring in "The Deathless" by oveliagirlhaditright

The Daryl/Cordelia relationship (Some Assembly Required) by oveliagirlhaditright

“WillowTaraFred OT3 rights” by oveliagirlhaditright

I have a theory that Buffy and Spike don’t have nearly as crazy of a sex life as they both think they do… by redbone135

Buffy’s directionlessness by corvidyus

Trying to adhere to the show’s original soul lore is pointless by disco-tea

[Buffy's friends trying to control her life] by ficrebloggercuzynot

Let's talk about Spike and fashion by metaphasia-words-upon-words

so did buffy ever actually confront spike after he tried to get his chip removed in "out of my mind"?? by silvermars

What if there were Buffy in 2023 by gmac

buffy in a demon dimension by gmac

Character Battle: Gwendolyn Post vs Maggie Walsh by Stoney

Am I the only one that loves season 7? by Tatidanidean1

Question about aspect ratio (not Buffy HD related) by Ricks94

What if Dawn was the next slayer? by ragbook231

How did Willow turn out to be the only main Scooby to give Anya some goddamn respect in this series? by DrPepper450

Question re the Scythe by Daryl90

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[ritsuuu-0206]

School AU: Beatrice's first few weeks with Shannon and Mary

She's so tired of being the perfect child her parents wanted her to be. But even if she doesn't need to be now, it has become a habit to be perfect. She's quiet and accommodating, only responding when talked to. She does what she's told and never does anything that she thinks would make her new guardians mad.

She observes them, taking in their lifestyles and watching their actions. She wants to be good for them, as long as she's good like she was taught to be she won't be punished. She's tired of punishments and she's determined to be someone that's low maintenance so they won't get tired of her.

She's so concerned about being perfect and good and not being punished that sometimes, whenever there are big movements or whenever Shan or Mary raises their hands, Bea would freeze, fear written on her face as clear as day as she waits for the impact that would never happen.

Her first few sessions with the therapist are going well too, in her mind, telling the therapist that she's fine would mean spending lesser time there and that would mean being less of a burden. She simply recounts every traumatic event like a report. She doesn't talk about the occasional panic attacks and nightmares she would have at her new home, muffling her cries at the phantom pains, though she doesn't know that Shannon and Mary would fill the therapist in on the details she omitted.

One day, they would confront Beatrice about the way she's behaving. That they cannot help her if she keeps running away from her problems, that they don't expect her to be perfect like her parents. Of course, Bea didn't take it too well, her mind instead changing their concern into disappointment. She closes her eyes, thinking that she's made them mad, that they're finally tired of her. She drops to her knees with ease, grasping her hands tightly behind her back - a position her parents liked her to be in before they deliver the punishment. If she dares to block their hits, she would be punished more.

She apologizes and recites their words as the reason for accepting punishment. She shut herself off, prepared to deal with the amount of pain she thinks she would be put through. What she didn't expect though, was for Shannon to drop to her knees as well and pull Bea into a hug, patting her head and talking in a soft voice.

"Oh, honey, no. We don't mean it like that. We are here to help you and we don't want you to suffer. You don't have to suffer alone. You don't have to be perfect for us, you just have to be you. We want to know the true Beatrice. You're safe with us, we won't punish or scold you for anything. You're only human and no matter what, we're here to support you."

Tears well up in Bea's eyes the moment she processed the words. She allows herself to melt in Shan's embrace, timidly grasping onto her shirt. "I won't be punished even if I'm not perfect..?" Her voice is soft, afraid to even ask such a question. It makes Shan's heart break and she shifts so she could pull Bea closer.

"You'll never be punished ever again. You won't have to feel pain anymore."

"... Will I get hugs too..?" That question makes Shan choke on a sob, a wet chuckle escaping as she nods.

"Of course, you'll have all the hugs you want."

So Beatrice does better. Because being hugged after doing her best to confront her traumas makes it all worth it. She is loved, and her life is no longer filled with pain.