#hurt! and then fixed!bea
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It means nothing to her. Living. Ava would be so ashamed. She tried. God, she tried. But the life that they’d lived together left a gaping hole in her heart. And she needed to feel something. She needed her sisters again, falling into easy routine.
Training. Mission. Recovery.
Training. Mission. Recovery.
Mission. That’s where they were now.
Dragged out of bed in the early dawn, summoned to a series of dimensional pulses. The rough cobblestones rocked against their feet as they shuffled along, hidden in the shadows of the old buildings.
“This way,” Camila whispered, gesturing up ahead as she looked up from her tablet.
The pulses were getting stronger, Bea’s heart beating in tandem. She didn’t know why she could feel them. The other sisters gave no indication that they could, so Beatrice shoved it down, attributing it to the years of experience.
“Almost there,” Cam squealed, rushing a bit ahead of the pack.
It was a normal town square, open air, plenty of space, surely bustling by midday. But the tips of Bea’s fingers tingled, adrenaline redirecting it elsewhere.
“Camila slow–”
The pulsing exploded, a steady BAM BAM BAM against her sternum as the air erupted, sparks of orange and red bursting through the air, tarask swiping through the silence.
Her legs propelled her on instinct, eyes fixed on dear Sister Camila, head ducked and still buried in her tablet.
The blue glow of the screen made Bea’s heart jolt, shining against Cam’s face like the shards they’d pulled from Shannon not just last year.
No.
She was not going to lose another sister.
She flew across the square, snapping her wrists the second she made contact with her battle habit to drive Camila as far away as possible.
A sharp rod slid through her armour as another ring of blue appeared, angry tarask growling, hot air blistering against her face.
Is this how Lilith felt?
Cold creeps up her fingertips, neck stiff. The air forces itself from her lungs, and she can’t get it back, mouth gaping in shock.
Ava climbs through the portal, a divinium knife flying through the air. It meets its target, right through the monster’s heart, and Bea can’t help but smile.
She knows the second Ava sees her, eyes shining with elation, wide grin splitting her face.
The tarask roars, and Bea feels it. It rocks her, digging deeper through her middle. The sluggish spurts of red falling from her abdomen, sapping the warmth from her bones. The tarask vibrates behind her, breaching this realm for the next, and Bea wants to beg, “No, I just got her back–”
It’s like a higher power hears her plea, her heavy limbs sliding her down the claws, crumpling straight to the floor.
The ground blurrily comes up to meet her, head bouncing from the weakness. She can’t even hold up her own head.
The impact jars her, the emptiness suddenly gone, replaced by thick syrup sticking to her throat, blocking the airway.
Faint hollers reach her ears as her lung convulses with coughs, desperate to expel the blood pooling in her lungs.
She’s been blessed again, right in the view of Ava’s wonderful face. Thank you. The last thing she’ll see before she dies.
She thinks Ava’s face falls, but half her gaze is obscured by the cobblestones pressing into her face. The other half is hazy. Between the dark splotches, two Avas rush towards her, overlapping and separating with each sway.
Ava’s twinkling voice sounds like it’s underwater, just out of reach for clarity.
“Bea–”
A deep chill runs through her bones, barely mustering up the strength to comprehend the words, but she’s here.
“Stay with me Bea,” drifts into her ears.
The pulses keep going, portals thrumming with energy. It was Ava, calling for her.
But her heart misses a beat, pulsing a half-second slower than the dimensional field. Then a second. Then two. Then three.
The splotches have disappeared, replaced with a dark veil, falling like a curtain over her vision. Shaky hands gather her up into their arms. She wants to reciprocate, but her limbs refuse, weighed down by a million different forces.
The darkness abates for a second, Ava’s brilliant brown eyes shining back at her. Seeing her.
“I missed you,” she chokes, copper on her tongue. It comes out weak, and for a second, she thinks that Ava hears nothing at all.
“I love you,” Ava responds, clutching her closer. “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.”
She hears, but her brain is slow to process, fuzzy and waning. But she has to say it back, she has to. She didn’t when Ava first left and now–
”I love you too.”
Her eyes have slid shut, so she doesn’t see the glow. But she feels the warmth, spreading over her limbs and soothing the aches and pains.
She doesn’t see the Halo in Ava’s back, but she feels it, beating steady til hers matches.
“I’m not letting go of you yet love,” a tender promise by her ear.
The halo glows harder, a faint tingle in her side.
It comes out stronger this time, steady and sure. She pries her eyes open, reveling in the soft glow.
"Ava."
Ava stares back at her, devotion apparent. God, how Beatrice would kill to just touch her face, soft skin gentle under her fingertips. Warm and real.
Her body responds now, an affectionate smile curling her lips.
“I love you.”
In this life.
And evermore.
#in celebration of finishing an essay!#i present to you#hurt! and then fixed!bea#with a side of homoerotic devotion#(aka avatrice)#avatrice#sister beatrice#ava silva#warrior nun#boink scribbles
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have absolutely no clue what to do with myself HDDJDHDH
#i feel like i’ve just been a zombie GDJDHDDH i just#go downstairs. try to build up some energy end up cold end up laying down aimlessly try to go upstairs to get something done cry instead#and then sit aimlessly trying not to cry again and get anything done before i cry again and then pass out#i can’t tell if i want to talk about it or if i want to never h#think about it again or if i want to feel all of it and if feeling it makes it better or worse#and distracting myself is failing and trying to take care of myself well enough to feel better is failing#i’m just trying not to let my brain take me down spirals that might be true pr might be false but will definitely make everhthing feel wors#but it’s so hard GDNDHDHD everything feels so so so stupidly wrong#it’s such a different. level of heartbreak than i’m used to GDJDHDBD i genhinely dont. like it. doesnt feel like im ever grtting over this#and if i dont then we canteven be friends because im going to bea shit friend i f im stl like tbis#everything just hurts GDND and i hate talking about it and i hate feeling it but i cant fix it myself and i dont want anyone else to help#neg#mano.mindtalk#sometimes as i’m walking around the screaming from drunk walk home jus plays in my head on loop#n idk if its funny or absolutely sucks but it keeps happening like thanx brain!
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oooOOOOOOH how's about avatrice with "You’re so warm.” ?? :)
The paper is thin under the pads of her fingers.
Ava smooths it flat against the surface of the table, holding it there. Presses hard enough she can feel the ridges of the old wood through it, where age and neglect chipped the paint job away. Her thumb catches against a deep groove. Some past accident. The table meeting a knife.
She pushes down harder. Her fingers, her hand, all the way to her elbow it’s just one big ache. She aches all over today. Then again, she hurts all over most days. Her free hand scrambles past a stack of unused paper for the pencil she’d let go to shake off a cramp. It skidded far across that sea of white and Ava is forced to stretch, bow over the table in order to grasp it. The motion tilts her halfway out the chair, which rolls back; Ava shifts her hips forward and sets herself back to her task.
The book she's copying words from is the one Bea had gotten for her second-hand the first and last time they were here. The apartment is the same too, down to leaking pipe beneath the sink Beatrice still hasn't figured out how to fix.
It's Ava who's different. And everything else that has changed.
In the textbook, rows upon rows of German words and phrases march alongside their Portuguese counterparts. It had taken several tries for Beatrice to find it, days of scouring flea markets in the small towns nearby. Sometimes alone, most often with Hans.
“It’ll be easier to learn if you build up from your native language.” She explained after Ava had pointed out an English to German book would have worked just as fine. It had been. Easy.
Except now it’s hard.
Today’s lesson is about the items used in the kitchen. Der Wasserkocher, Ava writes diligently, eyes flicking to the battered red tea kettle sitting on the stove. Der Ofen, she adds on a whim. Even though it isn’t in the book, she knows the German word for stove.
She’s about to write down the word for dishwashing detergent, which is long winded and sputtery both in letter count and in sound, when another cramp hits.
This is the worst one so far. It starts at her fingers, trailing up from her hand to the hinge of her wrist in increasingly powerful waves. Ava’s entire arm seizes. She watches her hand contract like it isn’t her own. Clench, release, tighten, release. The final shock has the pencil tear a hole through the last, half-written word, then snap against her palm.
Ava sucks in a breath at the sting. A sharp fragment of wood scores in her skin. She wills her hand to relax so she can take a look at the damage, but it’s an impossible ask, as though her internal wiring has been cut. Ava thinks about her fingers uncurling, face fixed in a frown. Thinks about it so hard she makes herself dizzy. Her hand stays exactly the same, and droplets vivid red, more viscous than ink, patter down on the page.
The rest starts while she watches the droplets expand. Ava knows, logically, that she’s not bleeding that much. Wherever she looks, though, she sees red. Red kettle, red microwave, old red radio on top of the fridge.
Ava closes her eyes, or maybe it’s her vision that crawls dark at the edges. There is a shift, a tilt to her axis, and the next thing she is aware of is her cheek, bruised, pressing against linoleum warmed by the sun.
“Ava?” Beatrice calls, voice uncertain, from what could be the opposite side of the world. “Ava I heard a noise. Are you —?” Ava blinks hard. Next to her, one of the chair’s rear wheels revolves slowly. “Ava?” Beatrice again. Closer. “Do you need me to — oh.”
Strong hands cup beneath her armpits. Lifting, pushing, pulling away. Ava’s world spins with the faltering speed of a merry-go-round that’s finally come to a stop, and she finds herself propped against something that is, at once, solid and soft.
“Hey.” Beatrice’s lips are pressed to the shell of her ear, mouth half slanted in the hair behind it. “Ava, I think that you’re having a panic attack. I’m going to put my arms around you now. I don’t want you falling again. Is that okay?”
Ava just nods.
She feels as battered and old as this house, where some things are broken and others don’t work like they should. Her body isn’t even her own anymore; she’s along for the ride, but doesn’t control it. Walking and running — something as stupid as writing. She can’t seem to be able to consistently do any of it anymore.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Beatrice’s arms wind around her middle and she’s rocking the two of them gently, back and forth, in time with the sobs Ava hadn’t even realized are shaking her shoulders. “It’s alright.” One of Beatrice’s hand worms its way under her shirt, to the spot where the Halo sits heavy and idle and so very cold. “Just breathe with me. Do you think you can do that?”
Beatrice takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Like so. Now we do it together okay? On my count. One. Two —”
On three Ava opens her mouth. The first breath is torturous, like pulling in air through a straw. It doesn’t help that her nose is runny and clogged, and that the hand she lifts up to wipe it only makes it as far as her chest.
“Here.” Beatrice’s fingers guide hers around a handkerchief she must have had in her pocket, then help Ava bring it to her nose. The fabric is the kind of soft that comes with a lot of washing and the pattern — Ava thinks it was once a herd of stylized galloping horses — is pretty much gone. She blows her nose, and the next breath she takes comes a bit easier.
“Better?”
“I think so.” Her voice still feels off, as if she’s speaking a language she doesn’t quite know. Ava fights down another sob. “I don’t know.”
“Okay.” Beatrice scoots them backwards so that they’re further away from the table and fully sit in the sun. Ava watches her legs trail along; she’s starting to regain a measure of feeling, and with it comes the pain from her fall. It will be a while until they can move, longer until she can heave herself up on the wheelchair on her own. If she’s lucky, tomorrow will be a good day and she’ll be able to walk. If she’s lucky.
Lately, she’s not been very lucky at all.
“Have you heard of the 3-3-3 rule?” Beatrice asks, breath a warm wash against the side of Ava’s throat. Her hands have never stopped moving. One splays over the Halo, steady and grounding. The other covers Ava’s nerveless fingers, thumb tracing the network of veins at her wrist, that look bluish-black in the sun.
“I know the 5 seconds one.”
Beatrice snorts. It tickles.
“That’ll do. Can you tell me three foods that you like then, Ava?”
Ava frowns. She’s starting to come back to herself, and with her mind clearing up and the fear wearing away it’s easy to see what Beatrice is doing.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Then humor me, please?” The hand at her back pauses, and a hum rises from under Ava’s skin in response. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. The Halo has barely kept her alive as it is. Ava tries not to get her hopes up. She did at the start, after she came back through the Arc, and it was a big disappointment.
She can’t afford to get hurt that way, not again. She wouldn’t survive.
“Ugh, fine.” Afternoon sunlight, buttery smooth, streams in through the window, coating the entire world gold. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream.”
“You have horrible taste, but go on.”
“Tacos al pastor.”
“Okay, I can get behind those.” The hand on her back travels lower, following the ridges, the dips of her spine, and Ava feels it again. The tiniest hum, a buzzing. It’s almost a sigh. “What’s the third food?”
“You.”
The hand falls away. Beatrice’s arms around Ava tighten. Chin hooked over Ava’s shoulder , she rests her head there for a beat, face naturally tilting into the space between collarbone and jaw like a comet unable to resist a planet’s orbit.
“Ava.” A flash of heat spreads across Ava’s back, and she can’t tell whether it comes from the Halo or if Beatrice is blushing.
“What?”
“I just —” Bea smiles against her shoulder, plants a kiss there. “I’m not very nutritious, calories wise.”
“True.” Ava twists around in Bea’s arms, makes herself comfortable there. Given a choice, she’ll stay like this for the rest of the day. “But you’re tasty.”
Beatrice clears her throat. “We should get you off the floor.” She suggests, deflecting. Her gaze cuts away to the floor, and she swallows. Ava will never tire of it, of how even the slightest flirting will have Beatrice in knots. Of how she’ll swallow, cheeks suffused red, pulse racing, near visible, under the cut of her jaw.
“Wait.” Ava digs in, hand gripping the front of Bea’s light pullover. She sways forward and in, and her lips brush on purpose right at Bea’s throat. Her heart pounds so fast Ava can taste it. Or maybe it’s her own. “Can we stay here a while longer? You’re so warm.”
Beatrice pulls back to look at her, mouth quirking into a bigger smile.
“We can stay here a while.”
//
“Die Schwester” Lilith has picked up Ava’s textbook after dinner and is making her way through some words, mangling them all.
“Your German is terrible.”
“My German is perfect, thank you very much. It’s simply accented.”
“Whatever. Give me my book back.” Ava braces one elbow against the wheelchair’s armrest and stretches up, the other arm fully extended. Lilith puts the book down, just out of reach.
“I’m so gonna run you over.”
Lilith scoffs. “And how do you plan to do that?”
“We’re in the Alps. I’m going to wait until you’re on an incline, then let gravity do the rest.”
“Sure.”
Lilith phases. Reappears behind Ava a second later to help her closer to the table where Camila and Mary are setting the pizza they ordered for dinner on plates.
“Why are you learning family vocabulary anyway? You and Bea are pretty fluent already.”
“I’m not.” Ignoring the plates, Ava grabs for the box of pizzawitheverythingonit nobody else has the stomach to touch. The first bite is delicious but hot. Ava juggles the food in her mouth, speaking around it. “I have the best family ever already.”
Everything’s changed.
Nothing is ever the same.
Ava will not walk today and she may not walk tomorrow. But as the sky fades to black and they crowd on the old couch, fighting over whose turn it is to pick a movie, Ava thinks change is alright.
#warrior nun#avatrice#ava silva#sister beatrice#ava x beatrice#I have to do the positive disabled!ava representation around here#dren writes
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Avatrice Week 2023 Masterpost
Day 1 - Fake Dating or Undercover
Title: Tell Me You Don't Know Me
Author: quietblueriver
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: Ava and Beatrice run into Beatrice's parents.
Title: Always a pleasure
Author: orphan_account
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: “And this is the, uhm, wife, I presume?”
Title: Serenading in the Trenches
Author: spaceosshy
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: Beatrice and Ava are reunited after almost a year apart. They're immediately tasked with going undercover, posing as a married couple of prolific assassins in the hopes of putting a stop to Adriel's criminal activies.
Title: Missions and Love
Author: Creativityx
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Ava has been assigned to work with the OCS' top agent, Beatrice. It was a simple mission, pretend to be girlfriends, capture one of Adriel's followers and return to the OCS. What Ava wasn't planning for was her fake girlfriend being so beautiful.
Title: when dividin' up the universe (you could have mine)
Author: organicdonut
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: “Okay, so. I have, uh, some updates,” Beatrice does not like the way Ava said updates, “About last night.” “Will the updates explain why everyone in the bar is looking at me like I’ve forbidden alcohol?”
Title: Will you be my fake girlfriend?
Author: jessnope
Rating: Not Rated
Summary: “Wouldn’t people think it weird?” Ava asked, looking genuinely thoughtful. Somehow, Beatrice could sense it was a trap even through the state of tiredness she found herself, Ava had a spark in her eyes.
Title: Philanthropy for the Heart
Author: SharonSharpe
Rating: Explicit
Summary: The Areala General Hospital is hosting its annual charity gala and everyone is excited for the social event of the season. That is everyone except Dr. Beatrice Young. When she makes the mistake of saying Ava is her date for the gala the two are forced to address their flourishing feelings for the other.
Day 2 - Injured or Sick
Title: Life is About More Than Just Fighting
Author: strongwomenunited
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: At the end of 2x06, you can see that Beatrice clearly had an injured side, yet in 2x07, it's magically healed. In this story, Ava finds Beatrice after Mother Superior has been brought back to life trying to get her armor off, but her side is in pain. So we will see some hurt/comfort, but you know emotions come out and their relationship changes...
Title: A Sick Day
Author: strongwomenunited
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: During the two month period, Beatrice gets a cold after a busy night at the Bar, do they end up training or does Ava make her rest?
Title: That Lilith Voice Inside My Head
Author: quietblueriver
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: AU - Lawyer!Bea tries to bring Ava soup. Lilith helps. Sort of.
Title: I'll Hold You (Blood, Bruises and All)
Author: spaceosshy
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: The Halo pulses as Ava roars with rage, knocking Beatrice’s assailant backwards into the stone wall. He falls, limp and unmoving. Ava can distantly hear all the times Mother Superion has told her to check the body but she doesn't care. She's already halfway to Beatrice’s side.
Day 3 - Jealousy
Title: What Love Feels Like
Author: strongwomenunited
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: In 2x02, what if Miguel didn't walk into Bar La Vasseur while that woman was flirting with Beatrice? What if Ava took things into her own hands to end that conversation...? This story explores the idea of Ava spilling some drinks on a certain woman flirting with Beatrice. How will she react?
Day 4 - Soulmates
Title: Soulmarked
Author: Creativityx
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: That fateful day when she was seven, saw her soulmark left incomplete with only the letter 'B' on her wrist. Ava learns to wear long sleeves that day. With little hope of finding her soulmate, she puts herself to work as a mechanic fixing cars to stop anyone else from experiencing the same as her.
Her life is ordinary until one client walks through the door with a need for repairs.
Day 5 - Hear Each Other’s Thoughts
[None}
Day 6 - Smut or Creator’s Choice
Title: I Can Taste You In My Rage
Author: spaceosshy
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: Lilith returns to the Cat's Cradle in the hopes of making amends. Beatrice has some things to say.
Title: The One Time She Knew
Author: JetpackingPenguin
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: Five times Beatrice didn't think Ava returned her feelings and the one time she did
Day 7 - Domesticity
Title: The Teddy Bea-r
Author: Lapincobra
Rating: Not Rated
Summary: Fanart and a little draft for Day 7 Of Avatrice week - Domesticity
#avatrice#avatrice week#ava x beatrice#beatrice x ava#ava silva#sister beatrice#warrior nun#masterpost
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OOPS! WRONG NAME!
➠ pairing: non-idol! bff!na jaemin x reader
➠ genre: fluff | friends-to-lovers | angst ??
➠ warnings: full on stupidity | jaem being the worst groom ever | chenle still being the best wingman (is this supposed to be a warning idk) | accusations of cheating | stealing | cursing | that one scene from the show friends (if yk then yk ;))
➠ wc: 2.946 words (that was unexpected)
when na jaemin said the wrong name at his own wedding.
READ PART ONE HERE!
EVERYONE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY IN A WEDDING.
“I am happy for him.”
“Liar.”
“But I really am.”
“Nice try.”
You glared at Jeno, crossing your arms. “You can’t tell me what to feel. I’m happy. End of story.”
“Yeah, and I’m the long lost prince of Narnia.” Jeno rolled his eyes, fiddling with his tie. “Y/n, you can’t lie to me—no, in fact, you can’t lie at all. You’re the worst liar I know, other than Mark hyung.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, it’s not wrong to not be happy.” His tone suddenly softened, kneeling down in front of you. Jeno’s eyes were full of pity and you hated it. You hated it because you know he’s right: you are not happy.
“It is wrong, though.” You stubbornly point out. “Jaemin’s a married man in less than 24 hours. I’m his best friend and I should be happy for him.”
“But you’re in love with him.”
You are. Deeply. Utterly. So much.
“I am,” you gulp, looking away from his dark orbs. It hurts to admit it but what else will you hide from him? Jeno already knew your secret anyway ever since you rejected him back at high school.
Jeno squeezed your hand, sighing. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re not Jaemin.”
He smiled, even chuckling a bit. You let out a small laugh too before shaking your head, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, I’m not happy. But I want to be. Jeno, Jaemin has done so much for me, and being in his wedding means a lot. He does make me happy in general. Maybe we were really destined to be just friends.”
“Friends don’t look at each other that way, though.” Jeno softly said, tucking the hair covering your face behind your ear. Once he was satisfied fixing your hair, he stood back up and attended once again to his still not fixed tie.
“Drop it Jeno, I’m serious.” You bit your lip, checking the time. “Jaemin’s getting married, you have to accept that. I have to accept that.”
“I’m getting married.”
“You’re getting married.”
“I can’t believe I’m getting married!”
“You can’t believe you're not getting married to Y/n?”
“Y—what? No!” Jaemin turned his head at Chenle so fast that he felt blood rushing, giving him a slight headache that added to his stress. “I love Bea!”
“I never said you didn’t.” Chenle snickered, opening up the bottle of champagne. Jaemin huffed, ruffling his already messy hair. “Well, I do, okay? I love Bea. That’s why I proposed. That’s why I’m going to be standing at the altar.”
“You were just about to say yes though.”
“Then you’re hearing things. I’ll pay for your doctor after the marriage.”
Chenle scoffed this time, taking a sip of his glass of champagne before passing the whole bottle to the groom. “I have nothing against you or Bea, if you love her, then fine. But if you love her just because of Jeno and Y/n—“
“Yeah, sure. I’m in love with my fiancé because my two best friends obviously have something going on.” Jaemin sarcastically says, giving the bottle a look before taking a huge gulp. He needed it.
“You know Y/n rejected him, right?”
“I know, Le. I was literally the one who comforted Jeno five years ago.”
Chenle felt his chest tighten, staring at his friend for a long time before releasing a deep sigh. “You have to stop caring for others too much. Worry about yourself too, you idiot.”
“I didn’t push myself away because I know Jeno likes Y/n,” Jaemin slurred, cheeks tinted red from the alcohol he just chugged. He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbow on his thigh. “I love Bea. I’m continuing the wedding.”
How many times has Na Jaemin done something stupid?
Good question. Even he couldn’t count.
On his wedding day, he was feeling a mixture of emotions. He really couldn’t pinpoint which is which, and that’s probably thanks to the alcohol he had consumed before the bride’s father came over to give him a goodluck.
Jaemin knows he’s supposed to be happy, like any damn man should be on their wedding day.
But he feels the worst.
Was he really having second thoughts? Oh, Jaemin felt like a jerk. How could he face his fiancé properly when there’s another woman in his mind? He felt horrible. Why were you even on his mind?
Okay, maybe he did lie.
Five years ago, when he ran through the storm to reach you and confess his undying love, when he missed the chance all because of a phone call, Jaemin had thought shoving all his feelings inside and moving on was the best he could do.
After all, he loved you, and Jeno was his friend. How could he ever do that to a friend?
“You good?” Chenle’s voice cut his thoughts off.
“Yeah.” Jaemin replied in a whisper, eyes scanning the room nervously.
“You better be. The wedding’s—let me rephrase that—your wedding’s about to start.”
Jaemin gave a tight smile, trying his best to ignore the demon by his shoulder, tempting him to leave the altar and look for you.
“Groom, ready?”
This is it.
He’s going to be a fucking-married-man.
“Yeah.”
The wedding planner nodded her head then rushed outside the church door to probably ready the flower girls, bell boys, bridesmaids, and escorts.
“There.” Chenle smiled, nodding in a direction. Jaemin followed his gaze and his stomach dropped in regret the next second.
There you are, sitting prettily in a light pink off-shoulder dress, with your hair perfectly loose and slightly curled. You weren’t wearing much make-up, he could tell, yet you still managed to outshine everyone in the room.
Jaemin’s heart skipped a beat.
You smiled widely and gave him two thumbs-up, mouthing “you got this”. And almost instantly, Jaemin felt his nerves calm down. He smiled back just as wide, nodding.
You always knew how to calm him down after all.
Music started playing, and one by one, the bridesmaids and escorts started walking down the aisle. Flower girls soon followed and then, the bride.
“Here comes the bride.”
Everyone stood up, eager and excitedly. You, however, tried your best to show you were just as enthusiastic as the others. You had a brief eye contact with Jeno on the other side of the room and he scrunched his nose up, as if to tell you everything’s going to be alright.
But it isn’t, really.
You don’t think you can handle it, even if you try. You can’t watch the man you love share his vows with another woman.
As Bea walks in slowly, her eyes staring lovingly at her groom, Jaemin starts to feel his heart palpitate again. Not because of the wedding, not because of the bride walking to him, but because he was afraid.
He was fully afraid of why he didn’t feel a thing. Don’t get him wrong, Bea looked beautiful in a white dress, but you would look more stunning. Jaemin’s scared his worst fear might be happening: he hasn’t moved on and he’s still in love with you.
“Um, Jaem?”
Jaemin stopped daydreaming and cluelessly stared back at Bea. She chuckled nervously, nudging her hand out again until he finally got the hint and shakingly took it, guiding her in front.
It felt so wrong to him, and feeling that is wrong. Especially in this situation.
“Before we start, regrets must end here right now. Is there anyone who objects to wed Na Jaemin and Ki Bea?”
You wanted to raise your hand. He wanted you to raise your hand.
“Alright then, we shall proceed.”
You wanted to leave. He wanted to leave with you.
When the vows were exchanged, Bea had gotten emotional, declaring her love while Jaemin felt like the biggest jerk alive. He almost froze when the mic was passed to him, but managed to stutter out words, telling the story of how they met and how he proposed.
Jaemin couldn’t really hear a thing. In fact, he couldn’t even stare directly in her eyes. He just felt too guilty. Maybe some of the audience noticed his odd behavior, because he was sure Chenle had caught on. The little devil always did, anyways.
“Will you, Ki Bea, take Na Jaemin as your lawfully wedded husband? Be with him through thick and thin, through sickness and in health?”
“I, Ki Bea, take thee Na Jaemin as my lawfully wedded husband. Be with him through thick and thin, through sickness and in health.”
“Will you, Na Jaemin, take Ki Bea as your lawfully wedded wife. Be with her through thick and thin, through sickness and in health?”
Jaemin took a deep breath.
He could do this. He can do this. He will do this.
“I, Na Jaemin, take thee L/N Y/N—“
Gasps erupted from the room.
You snap your head up, eyes widened. Did you hear it right? Did he just say your name?
Jaemin grew red from embarrassment, even taken back himself. What did he just fucking do?
“U-Um..”
“It’s okay, Jaem. I understand it’s a mistake. Just—just repeat it.” Bea stammered, her hold on his hand loosening. Jaemin slowly nodded, swallowing the huge lump on his throat. He awkwardly shifted his weight on his left feet, taking another deep breath.
“I, Na Jaemin, take three L/N Y/N—..”
Half of the people were already standing up on their seats. Everyone was whispering to themselves. By now, you were sure that you heard your name.
You received stares from left to right, but what mattered to you right now was the stare Jaemin gave you.
“I—you—but—ugh!” Bea tantrumed, throwing her bouquet of flowers on the ground. She pushed Jaemin’s chest roughly, nose and eyes red from tears. “I knew you were still in love with that bitch! I never liked her!”
“B-Bea, wait, I can explain.” Jaemin realized he wasn’t just the king of all jerks right now, but he was also the stupidest man standing on earth.
“Explain what? You can’t explain! Listen, Jaemin, you have to pick. Me or her?” Bea demanded, stomping her foot. Jaemin winced visibly, struggling to choose. He felt so, so, guilty that even his eyes started to sting.
“I..”
A hand on his shoulder stopped him from speaking. It was Jeno.
“What’s happening here?”
“What’s happening here!? Your friend cheated on me! That’s what’s happening. That bitch never stayed on her line. You’re mine, Na Jaemin. Mine!”
“Funny.” Jeno narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest. He smugly let out a smirk. Sensing trouble, both families—from Jaemin’s and Bea’s side—were also now in front.
“I demand an explanation, Na. I trusted you with my daughter.” Bea’s father sternly said while her mother comforted her. Jaemin opened his mouth to speak, but no words left his mouth. What else would he explain? That he was still in love with you?
“I can give you an explanation, sir.”
“You’re not the one I’m asking, boy—“
“But isn’t your daughter only using my best friend here, for your business?” Jeno glared at the older man. Jaemin looked at him confused.
“Don’t you dare try to accuse me and my family like that.”
“The Na’s are successful business owners. And your own is almost close to bankruptcy. I have proof of you trying to steal money, Mr. Ki. Don’t make the mistake of humiliating yourself in front of everyone right now.”
“What is he saying?” The mother asked, with her brows furrowed and eyes teary. “Nothing! The boy’s crazy!” The father suddenly showed fear, urging his family to leave. “Let’s go. We have no other business here.”
“But daddy!”
“Bea. Let’s go.”
Jaemin was left stunned when his ex-fiancé was dragged by her father outside the church. He coughed a little, turning to Jeno. “What the fuck was that?”
“I think the words you were looking for were ‘thank you for saving my ass, where’s y/n?’.”
“Jeno.”
“I had my suspicions, okay? Meeting Bea that day on the club was not a coincidence. And she’s really bad at acting. I had to do a quick background check to see if she’s worth it for you.”
“Jeno..”
“You’re my best friend, Jaem. All I wanted for you was to be happy. I’ll handle the guests and your family.”
Jaemin couldn’t help but shed a tear when he pulled Jeno in a tight hug, thanking him all over again and again. God, what did he do to deserve this?
“Stop thanking me, fatass. Run after her. Chenle knew Y/n needed to get out of here when everyone was whispering about her, so he led her outside to the garden.”
“Thank you!”
“Shut up!”
Jaemin laughed, wiping his tears with his thumb before running out the door, loosening his tie that was choking him for the past hour.
He’s been in love with you for so long, that even Chenle couldn’t even remember how he fell for you. No one that knew remembered, really. Only Jaemin remembered every detail very clearly.
It was by summer, when you stood up for him from a couple of bullies. You always shared your lunchbox with him, you even helped him repair his broken toy care, for goodness’s sake. And yes, it had been more than a decade, and yes, he was down bad.
So bad.
It was always you.
His love never faded, in fact, it grew stronger as he woke up and lived everyday, longing for you.
Jaemin caught a glimpse of your light pink dress by the garden’s balcony. He panted, swallowing. Five years ago, he was in the same situation, when he was too afraid to admit what he really wanted to say.
But thanks to the adrenaline from the wedding and the run he just had, his confidence was boosted.
“That was one hell of a wedding.” You broke the silence, still not facing him. Your eyes were still stuck on the flowers, but you did hear footsteps and some heavy breathing.
“Bad.” Jaemin cringed, walking closer to you and leaning beside you, staring at the flowers too.
“Oh, the worse.”
He smiled. “I’m so happy it turned out that way.”
Your throat feels dry when you turn to face him. “Why?” You croaked out after exhaling, knuckles white from how tight you were gripping the railings of the balcony.
“Saying your name up there felt right.” He was still smiling.
“Why did it feel right?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“Because I always dreamt of you walking down the aisle in a white dress.” And smiling.
You hit his shoulder, groaning at his answer. It wasn’t the one you wanted to hear, and he knew that.
“Na Jaemin!”
Jaemin chuckled, swatting your hand away. He scrunched his nose up, which made him identical to a bunny. “You know it’s rude hitting people.”
“Since when?” You ignored him.
“The day we met.”
“That long?” You groaned again, now covering your red face. It was the effect of Na Jaemin on you that you used to hate and grew to love.
“Yeah, that long.” He nodded, confirming.
“Why didn’t you tell me any sooner? Or did you plan waiting this long, until you’re in your own fucking wedding to tell me?”
“Touchè.” Jaemin clicked on his tongue. “I don’t know. I was a kid, I was dumb. I did try sometimes but everything failed.”
“So five years ago, when you ran through the rain and knocked on my door on a school night, did you..?”
“Yeah.”
“..did you want to tell me you were engaged?”
“Alright, that’s it.” Jaemin gives you a glare when you laugh at your own jokes. “I can’t help it! I find an opportunity and I use it. Starting from now, I’m using this day against you.”
“I’ll do the talking now.” He sighed, shaking his head when you laughed louder.
“No!”
“Y/n.”
“Imagine saying the wrong name at a wedding, that’s so fucking embarrassing I—“
“—I’m in love with you.” Jaemin cuts you off.
You stop, licking your lips and looking away. It was quiet for a few seconds.
“I know.”
“You did!?—“
“No, it’s not that,” you calmed him down, letting out a weak smile. “I didn’t know. But I did have a clue when you said my name while dedicating your wedding vows.”
“Ah.”
“Mhm.”
Jaemin cleared his throat, his shoulders slumping. The adrenaline was fully gone by now and you still weren’t responding back to his confession. His chest tightened and his eyes stung. “I..I should go.“
“I’m in love with you too.”
“Oh.”
“Jaemin,” you wince and place your hands on his chest when he leaned in. “We should probably take it slow, right? I mean, you just got out of a relationship not even an hour ago.”
“Right. That makes sense.” He frowned, keeping his hands on your waist. Jaemin caressed your skin lovingly, staring deeply in your eyes. He respects you so much that if you tell him to wait fifty years of no kissing, he’d do it without hesitating.
Waiting has always been worth it if it’s you.
One look in his eyes, you craved the temptation and grabbed his collar, tip toeing to reach his lips. Jaemin could swear he heard you say “fuck it” and he couldn’t care less. He closed his eyes, squeezing your hips before cradling your cheek to make the kiss deeper.
Fuck it.
He’s in love with you, you’re in love with him.
Jaemin walked barefooted in hell for this and he would do it all again in a heartbeat.
advice: don’t marry when ur not sure. trust me. anyways, feedback? <;3
#nct#nct dream#nct u#na jaemin#nct jaemin#nct na jaemin#na jaemin fics#jaemin scenarios#jaemin imagines#jaemin angst#jaemin fluff#jaemin x reader#nct fic#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct angst#nct fluff#nct dream scenarios#nct dream imagines#nct dream angst#nct dream fanfic#fanfic#fanfictions#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop angst#kpop fluff
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41 ghost/living person au ava x beatrice
[AO3 Link]
...
Beatrice waking up is one of the most beautiful things Ava’s ever seen in her life.
She’s always thought this—privately at first, in an attempt to not bother her with the levels of Ava’s adoration and then overtly, later, when she learned that Beatrice wouldn’t get it either way—and it’s never been more clear to her before now. As a rule, Beatrice is almost never relaxed, but she can’t help it when she sleeps.
Ava lets herself stare without fear. Beatrice has always had a way of drawing her attention—look at me, Ava had thought even in those early days, living anew and burning with a desire to know and to be known, look at me—and here’s the thing: Beatrice has always been a creature of habit (pun totally intended). She wakes up at six in the morning every day, no matter what; her alarm blares, but Ava’d bet that even if it didn’t go off she’d still get up right on time anyway. Her alarm blares, she sits up. Rubs her eyes once, twice, and then swings herself out of bed.
Just like that.
She opens one of the curtains just a sliver and allows the rising sun to shine inside the small room, turning the room from a dim gray to something far nicer, tinging the pillows a soft orange that, in turn, flickers across Beatrice’s hair, caressing her in such a way that makes Ava’s fingers itch, eager to touch.
Her highlights are growing out, have nearly been swallowed by natural dark locks, but it hadn't been the blonde that made Ava fall for her (though it hadn’t hurt). She’s stunning even now, especially now—will always be, probably.
Beatrice makes sunlight look damn-near dreary, and Ava’s mouth dries as she watches.
“You’re so pretty, Bea,” she croaks, unable to keep it all inside. Now there’s no reason to.
“You try to keep yourself hidden from the entire world,” Ava goes on, rocking back on the bed. She watches as Beatrice putters silently around the room, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “And you did, really—you did such a good job of that. But you’re so gorgeous, like, holy fuck. I’ve never seen eyes like yours. You should wear your hair down more often, but your bun looks good, too. Bea, do you want me to talk about your freckles again?”
Beatrice doesn’t respond to her, of course. She never does.
Not that Ava can blame her, really.
(Ava’d found out pretty quickly that Beatrice couldn’t see her. Couldn’t hear her, feel her. Couldn’t perceive her in any way.
No one could.
She got over it pretty quickly—if you count having a couple panic attacks getting over it—and she’s mostly okay now. By the time she’d appeared here, in the middle of Beatrice’s bedroom as she was sleeping, it’d already been four days since she went through the Ark. She doesn’t know why she’s like this, doesn’t know if she’d ever ended up meeting Reya; she doesn’t even have any memory of being healed, though she must have been. Unless she’s dead, and this is, like, some weird sort of limbo.
But she’s died before, and it wasn’t like this.)
All in all, she thinks, delighting in the casual ripple of shoulder muscles from beneath Beatrice’s shirt, this is a way better deal than last time.
She doesn’t watch Beatrice change, of course. She has some shame. But she takes what she can get; it’s the little things, the way Beatrice walks around in the (supposed) privacy of her own room with a short-sleeved shirt on. She’ll always pull on an extra layer before she leaves, Ava’s learned, but the flex of her biceps even for this limited time is nothing short of holy.
Once Beatrice is properly dressed, her bun fixed—though it hadn’t been mussed in the first place—her boots tightly laced, she heads out of her room, into the long hallways of Cat’s Cradle.
Ava smiles, bounces on her feet, and follows her out the door.
(As far as Ava knows, the Halo’s very much fine and still in her back. She can feel it at times, though it never goes off quite as powerfully as she remembers. She can still phase—though there’s really no point to it anymore—she can still fly, can still heal—which was an absolute bitch to test, by the way—and maybe this all points to her not being dead, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter.)
Because she’s a creature of habit (it doesn’t get any less funny), Beatrice stops by the dining hall first. Breakfast is essential, she’d said in Switzerland, and Ava’s never one to turn down any food. She’d always enjoy those lazy mornings—though lazy is never something she could call Beatrice—and the early meals with her.
It’d be nice to eat again. She misses food more than she misses a lot of things. Well—that’s not really true. She misses a lot of things, really; food, the need to sleep, talking with Camila, the way Beatrice would touch her shoulder when she was being just the slightest bit annoying.
“I love you,” she says while Beatrice eats, because it’s all she can do. “I miss you. Thank you for being here. I’m sorry for stalking you, heh, but I feel like you’d be okay with it. I love you.”
I love you. I love you. I love you.
After breakfast, Beatrice heads out to the training grounds. She doesn’t have all that much to do in Cat’s Cradle nowadays, and Ava’s seen her duties lessen and lessen over the days, from performing most of the new recruits’ training to now just overseeing it. She thinks, sometimes, that Beatrice will snap one day and just leave this all behind. She kind of hopes she will.
It’s weird—complicated, really. She wants Beatrice to live so badly, to discover who she is without the towering, suffocating walls of the OCS boxing her in. That’s always what Ava’s wanted for her.
But she desperately doesn’t want Beatrice to be alone.
At least she’s not alone here, is the thing. Ava would follow her anywhere, but Beatrice wouldn’t know it. At least here she still has a few—has Camila, has Mother Superion, has Dora, even, who’s not very close but who’s here.
(And Ava’s seen her grieve, too; those are always the worst nights. Beatrice grieves her so plainly that sometimes Ava wishes she’d just be forgotten entirely, if only to spare her the pain.
She never wishes that for very long. She’s selfish like that.)
“Bea?”
After training—during which Beatrice stood and watched the recruits and Ava sat and watched her—Camila finds her in the hallway, a sad smile already forming on her face.
“Camila,” Beatrice says. She always sounds so tired when she speaks, now, and Ava’s heart clenches in her chest. I love you, she thinks, desperate for Beatrice to hear. “Did you need anything?”
“No, it’s not that.” Camila looks a bit skittish. “I just wanted to give you something.” She holds something out—something that Ava can’t see—and Beatrice inhales steadily. Too steadily. Ava wonders if Camila notices or not. “It took a little while to shape it, but it’s yours.”
Ava comes closer, unable to bite back the curiosity. She doesn’t like being too close, now, doesn’t like the way her skin slides through everyone else’s without even trying, but she can’t help it. Sometimes there’s a pull she just can’t fight. Beatrice is still staring at whatever it is, doing her keep-calm breaths.
Ah. Ava understands the moment she spots the thing in Camila’s hand. A piece of Divinium—nearly black, with how dull it is—attached to a simple cord and clasp. A necklace.
“For you,” Camila says finally, placing the stone in Beatrice’s hand. “So that you’ll know.”
Beatrice doesn’t say a word when she takes it from her, cradling the piece of Divinium between her fingers as if it’s liable to bite her. She doesn’t react, really, just closes her fist around it and meets Camila’s eyes with a look that Ava can’t see from her angle.
Whatever it is Camila seems to understand, and without another word spoken, Beatrice turns heads back to her room. Ava follows after her, because what else can she do? “I love you,” she says as they walk. “Even if you don’t know it, I’m here. I love you.”
She hopes Beatrice doesn’t cry. That’s the worst of it, not being able to comfort her. She doesn’t often cry, but that only makes it that much more gut-wrenching when she does.
Beatrice doesn’t cry, but she does spend a few minutes sitting and staring down at the necklace. She doesn’t say anything aloud, but it’s in the way her hands twitch, how her leg jumps up and down on the bed. Time passes slowly, and Ava watches from the corner.
“I love you,” Ava says, chin trembling because she can’t not say it, because there’s not much more for her to do these days than just tell Beatrice how much she means to her in the hopes that one day she’ll understand. There are tears forming in her eyes and she doesn’t even care because it’s not like there’s anyone here to notice it, anyway. “I love you so much. I wish I could talk to you right now. I miss you, but I’m glad it’s me rather than you. I love you.”
I love you, she says, right as Beatrice slips the necklace over her head.
And that’s when she swears Beatrice looks directly at her. Beatrice’s eyes go dark and desperate, and Ava thinks that she is going to cry, actually, when she realizes that the Divinium hanging high on her chest is no longer dull and dark, that Beatrice’s face is flecked with shining blue. Beatrice stares through her, mouth dropping open.
Ava’s heart jumps with the thought of danger. If Beatrice is attacked here, when Ava can’t do anything—
She spins around, but there’s nothing there.
And that’s when Ava realizes, half a second before it becomes obvious. Realizes because she knows Beatrice, has known her long before she was cursed to follow her around forever. She turns back around, meets her gaze—look at me, she’s always thought, look at me—and stares.
Because Beatrice isn’t looking at something behind her, or above. Beatrice is looking at her.
“Ava?”
#hi. first of all you know how I said I was avoiding your prompt? yea so that turned out to be a big fucking lie#the brainworms got to me#second. this got so long imso sorry dhgjkdfhgsdkf#warrior nun#ava silva#sister beatrice#sister camila#avatrice#smokey writes#birgittesilverbae
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Grandchildren: Beatriz
Summary: Endless Ending timeline. Middle-aged Taylor and Estela are entering a new phase of their life together, welcoming their grandchildren into the family. In four parts; this is PART THREE.
Word Count: 3496
Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @mauvecatfic @rhemenway888
Thanks for reading!
__________________________
2060
Taylor placed down a plate of cookies on the coffee table, and sat alongside her heavily pregnant daughter.
“I know it sucks for you to not be able to fix everything,” Liv said, looking up to her mother with a grateful smile, “but don’t think your tending to my cravings isn’t appreciated.”
Liv was some seven months along, her belly huge and rounded. Heavy bags under her eyes gave away her lack of sleep, the worrying that had kept her awake long into the night. Her unborn baby, a daughter, had long passed the danger period where a miscarriage was a high risk, but she would not truly relax before the infant was in her arms. After all, the last time… the baby had been four months along, she should have been okay…. Most days Liv felt she was barely functioning, even with all the support her family, and Jeimy, could offer.
“I’ve felt so awful,” Liv admitted. “I let the blonde fade out… I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean--?” Then Taylor realised. The blonde streak Liv had always dyed into her hair… making the point of having at least a bit of her look like the mom she had no biological link to. “God, Livi, you don’t have to keep doing your hair a certain way to prove our relationship to me!”
Liv winced. “See, I know that logically, but it’s not about logic, it’s about feeling. It’s been since I was so little, it feels like I’m throwing something away… something important.” She sniffed and looked away, lost in a dark place. Was there anyone she didn’t feel she’d let down?
“You’re carrying a lot, sweetheart. Let that one go.” She tenderly stroked her daughter’s short hair. “If it makes you happy, keep in the blonde, but do it for you, not out of any fear of hurting me. I’m secure in myself, and in my role as your mom… so take that load off, all right?”
“I’m just… finding it hard. Harder than I expected, which is stupid, I should’ve known I wasn’t ready for this….”
Taylor kept stroking her fingers through Liv’s hair. There was nothing she could say that would take away the fear, or the grief that still lingered.
“Some people believe,” she said quietly, “that the soul doesn’t fully attach itself to the body until the moment of birth. If the baby’s born sleeping, the soul waits for another little life. I don’t know if it might help… to imagine a piece of Avis might be with you and Beatriz now.”
Liv’s eyes grew wide and watery. “I want her with us,” she whispered. “More than anything.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel… I feel guilty sometimes even just for being excited about Bea coming. And I feel guilty that I’ve got this far carrying Bea when Jeimy had to go through that loss….”
“Sweetheart,” Taylor said, clutching her daughter’s hand. “You both went through it. It’s different, but your grief is real. Jeimy loves you, and they love Bea.”
Liv wept and snuggled into her mom’s shoulder, taking comfort there until her tears slowed.
“Mom… there’s something else. I need to check you’re okay with something….”
“I’m listening.”
“Well,” Liv wiped her face, righting herself a little, so she could look her mother in the face and read her. “We’d really like to use ‘Estela’ as Bea’s middle name.”
“Beatriz Estela Montoya? That’s pretty. That’s really pretty, swetheart. You were worried I’d be hurt?”
“I know we named Andi after you, but ‘Andromeda’ isn’t your actual name….”
Taylor laughed, and kissed Liv’s head. “Is this to get out of naming a dog ‘Draco’? You silly goose, didn’t I just tell you I’m secure in what we’ve got? Bea’s name is beautiful.”
Liv breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thanks-- we really like it.”
“She’s going to be really touched.” Taylor stroked the side of Liv’s face, adoring her. She could be a worrywart, her girl, but with what life had thrown at her in recent years, Taylor couldn’t blame her. Through it all, Liv was strong and kind, giving more of herself than she probably should, but somehow retaining her joie-de-vivre, her sparkle, dulled though it was on the darkest of days. “I love you, Livi,” she said. “I love you so much.”
And she hugged her, willing herself to somehow lend strength and courage where her daughter needed it-- if only it were that simple.
“It’s going to be okay.”
_________________________
It was pointless to keep checking her phone-- the message and ring tones had been set to blaringly loud so nothing could possibly be missed-- but that didn’t stop Taylor.
“Who you talking to, Grandma?” Andi asked, peering over Taylor’s shoulder.
Taylor hastily put it beside her on the floor. “No one, no one! Promise.”
Young Sol belly-crawled along the rug towards his grandma, then put himself in her lap.
“Hey, kiddo-- don’t worry, you’ve got my attention.”
“How many hours does it take for a baby to be born? They’ve been at the hospital all day!”
“Well, it depends. Sometimes, a baby will be in a big hurry to get out and it can happen in a couple of hours. Sometimes… it could even be a couple of days.”
“Days!” the two kids said in unison. It always tickled both Taylor and Estela that the two had an almost twin-like connection, their births only two days apart and inseparable since. Andi had often said ‘we basically are twins’ and no one could convince her otherwise.
How would another child fit into this dynamic? From the early days, Andi had been fascinated by her unborn sibling, talking about her constantly, while Sol barely seemed to register that a mammoth change was afoot. Until now, with his mom and nanay in the hospital, and not coming back until they had a baby to bring home.
“But,” Taylor added quickly, “last time your mom had a baby it was only five hours after she got to the hospital that Andi was born, and usually it’s faster once the mom’s already had a baby.”
“So, baby Bea could be being born right now?” Andi asked, reaching for her grandma’s phone. “And then they’ll ring and tell us?”
“She could be. And yes, they will. We’re just going to have to be patient.”
Andi huffed out a frustrated exhale. “Being patient is so hard! I wish we knew what was happening.”
“I know, mija,” Estela said as she came into the room with a plate of cocadas-- just how her mom used to make them. “Trust me, we’re all going a little crazy waiting for news. It’s just something we’ve gotta deal with.”
A tasty treat easily placated the easy-going Sol, who hummed to himself as he chewed, still sat in Taylor’s lap. Andi, though, wolfed hers down in what felt like seconds, and went straight back to asking after her mom and nanay. It was a challenge and a half, Taylor had to admit, to entertain two five-year-olds when one was completely incapable of thinking about anything other than the imminent arrival themselves.
Estela gave her wife a look. An understanding, ‘it’s driving me crazy too’ look. An ‘I’m with you’ look.
“Solito,” Estela said, determined to be distracted from worrying, and to have the kids distracted from worrying, “go and grab some paper and pens-- we can make some ‘welcome home’ posters for baby Bea-- good practice for your writing.”
Sol jumped up immediately, almost clocking his grandma in the chin as he got to his feet as was his enthusiasm. Reading and writing was a new skill, and one he was mighty proud of. He ran off, and as was typical, Andi was not far behind him.
It was hard not to be brought back to the kids’ mom learning to read and write. Liv had started a bit earlier, keen as she’d been to keep up with the older Reggie-- with whom she was inseperable. Liv would forever play with her alphabet fridge magnets; she took them with her from La Huerta, to San Trobida, to the States. Estela didn’t have any regrets about that rather fast-changing period in her daughter’s life… they’d given what stability they could, but it had never been possible to have a single true ‘home’. For these kids, though, home was San Trobida, a vastly different place to that the young Liv had known, and for Estela, it was barely recognisable as the war-torn country she grew up in. For baby Beatriz as well, the civil war and the horrors that came with it would just be a story told by her abuela, and a history lesson as she went through her schooling, as distant and irrelevent as the 2020 pandemic and dial-up internet.
Good for her.
Then Estela perched herself on the edge of the couch, only half-relaxing, for she could need to spring to action at a moment’s notice.
As if it had been waiting for the kids to leave the room, Estela’s phone rang, and she was up on her feet in an instant.
“Jeimy?” she asked too loudly. You’re gonna have to calm down…. She put the phone on speaker, though Taylor was right up by her ear so it probably wasn’t even necessary.
“She’s here-- they’re both doing great!” Jeimy cried down the phone, almost garbled in their excitement.
“The baby’s here? The baby--” Of course, the baby. Estela just laughed as relief and flooded her body. “Congratulations, Lorito,” she managed to get out. “Oh my god….”
“Pretty much what I said!” Jeimy laughed, ecstatic. “Beatriz is here, and she’s just divine.”
“Oh, Jeimy,” Taylor said, “you know it’s torture I can’t send you a hug down the phone, right?”
But even with the distance she could feel the happiness that radiated forth, and knew the same would be received. Then, the inevitable happened, and Taylor had to contend with tears streaming down her face. Her baby’s baby was here-- there was no way she wasn’t crying.
“H-how was it? Quicker than last time at least.”
“Everything went smoothly; I almost can’t believe it. It’s like… it’s like all the tension’s gone now… the scariest part is over. Liv’s feeling a bit wrecked for talking right now, but she’s happy. So, so happy.”
“Can we… can we tell the kids?”
Jeimy laughed, giddy. “Yeah, go ahead! We’ll get you to bring them down to the hospital soon-- we can’t wait to see them, just want to make sure Livi rests a little first.”
“Just… enjoy the peace and quiet with your little baby, okay?”
“And kisses for everyone from us, all right, mijo?”
“I’ll see to it-- I’ll see to it. You’ll give the kids a big squeeze from us as well! Love you-- love you-- bye!”
Estela hung up the phone and squealed, pulling a laughing Taylor into her arms for the tightest of hugs.
“We’ve got another granddaughter!” Taylor wept.
________________________
Liv’s eyelids were heavy as she watched the babe’s chest rise and fall. Their little Beatriz had made it earthside. There was no doubt in Liv’s mind; there would be no more babies for her and Jeimy. She couldn’t handle the rollercoaster. It would be her, and Jeimy, and Andi and Sol, and Beatriz… and that was all she’d ever need.
Safe and swaddled in her crib, an arm’s reach away from her exhausted mother, Beatriz had drifted off easily. Even bruised and swollen from the delivery, there was so much character in her little face.
“She looks like Sol did,” Liv whispered. “Not quite as much hair.”
At Liv’s other side, Jeimy was serene, sat up against their pillow. “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for nine months,” they admitted. “It’s nice to breathe again.”
“I know the feeling,” Liv said. “At this point I’ll welcome the sleepless nights with open arms-- I’m just so relieved to have her here.”
Jeimy scooched closer and stroked Liv’s face. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”
Liv looked up at them with a loving smile. “Very sore, very tired.”
Worth it, she thought, and she turned back to once again admire the little life she’d brought into the world. Oh my god, you are worth it.
____________________________
“Surely, no parent of a newborn in history has ever thought ‘oh, let’s have a party-- I could use some further disruption of my sleep patterns!” Aleister proclaimed. “And yet,” he added, “here we are.”
“I think ‘party’ is a strong word,” Taylor said. “Just a little get-together; good company, barbecue, and some fruit punch.”
Jeimy came over and hugged their uncle-in-law, welcoming him into the backyard, set up with lights and tables. “We’re not completely crazy; doing this at home means Liv and I can bolt upstairs with the baby and hide away at the drop of a hat. And if anyone was gonna disturb us, Mama ‘Stel would sort them out. Besides-- we’re not entertaining or anything, hence having everyone bring a plate and do their own dishes. Surrounding ourselves with love, but with as little of the hassle as possible.”
Aleister chuckled. “I can’t say I don’t still think you’re quite mad but… I see some of the appeal.”
Jeimy met his eye. “It means a lot Reggie coming home for us. I can’t say how much Liv’s missed him.”
“However all-singing-and-dancing the technology may get, it’s never the same as in person, is it? I hope it does Liv good,” he said sincerely. Aleister had been close to Liv all her life, for she and his own child Reggie had been something of a dynamic duo since before either could remember. She was his niece and he loved her, and through her mental health struggles he’d wished he could do more. It had been easier to be there for Estela, knowing that his support had helped her to be there for Liv. Reggie, he knew, was the healing balm that old Uncle Al could never be.
Thankfully, in the minds of the two parents of the new baby, the gathering had been able to be kept small and quiet-- certainly by the standards set by their ever-growing extended family. Naturally, Estela and Taylor were there, and Rosa with toddler Leo. Diego had made the trip from La Huerta a week prior, an additional support for Liv and Jeimy. Sean and Jake’s son Michael, proud donor uncle to baby Beatriz, as well as Liv’s older two children and Rosa’s unborn baby, was along for the fun; he’d taken up position as Chief of Fun and was keeping Andi and Sol out from their exhausted parents’ feet. His fiance and Michelle and Quinn’s youngest, Conor, was there to offer him assistance with the kids. Reggie was the guest of honour, the reason this whole thing was even happening-- and his sisters with their respective families, and Aleister and Grace rounded out the guestlist.
The back door swung open.
“Here she is!” Liv cried, stepping out with, cradled in her arms, a tiny bundle of baby in a puffy floral dress and a great big bow.
Michael turned to Jeimy and laughed. “What happened to the ‘gender neutral’ thing you were doing?”
“Hey. Flowers are for any and all genders.” Jeimy rolled their eyes teasingly. “Anyway, we gave up with the unisex name-- Spanish names are so damn gendered-- so thought ‘screw it, just put her in dresses if we like them’.”
“She looks cute,” Michael said, “but she’s gonna have to grow into that bow.” He held out his arms. “Cuddle with Uncle Michael?”
Liv chuckled, and carefully passed over the baby. As little Beatriz was placed in his arms, Michael absolutely beamed. There was no doubt he’d be as besotted over this kid as he was Andi and Sol.
“Damn, she’s cute!” he exclaimed. “You people are making me want a baby so bad. I’m pretty lucky to be a ‘donor uncle’ in the meantime, hey?”
“And we really appreciate it,” Liv was quick to say. Michael had basically given her the family she loved so much, and there were simply no words for what that meant. What was more, he’d given Liv’s Mama Taylor a genetic tie to her grandchildren-- a sort of link she’d once only dreamed of. Their family was unconventional, but in Liv’s eyes, it was all the more wonderful for what had been overcome to bring them to this moment, together. “It’s gonna be a pretty good excuse to get out to La Huerta regularly once Rosa’s bub’s here. We may have to tag along now and then-- I’m not having you usurp my position as ‘coolest visiting relative’.”
“I hate to break it to you, Liv,” Michael said, shaking his head in feigned sorrow, “but Jeimy sings, plays guitar, and has a talking parrot. You’ve never had the top spot to begin with.”
“Dude-- I can take my baby back---”
“Geez, touchy much! At least I know when I’m beat.”
“Just enjoy that cuddle, I’m pretty sure madam’s gonna be in high demand this evening.”
Content that her baby was in good hands, Liv felt comfortable enough to move a few feet away to check up on her older two. They’d blown her away with how they’d taken the new arrival in their stride; Sol was easy-going as usual, but Andi she’d been more concerned about, demanding as she was for fun and attention that simply was not in as high supply these days. But Andi doted on her baby sister, and was forever clamouring to be involved and help out. Now, the twosome had apparently roped Uncle Conor into a game of horsey-ride, with Andi was putting her newfound maternal side to use in steadying two-year-old Leonel with her hand as he had his turn, and Sol ripping up handfuls of grass to feed their new ‘pet’. Liv took an exhale and relaxed. Her little family was surrounded by love.
Then she turned, and there was the face she’d been desperately yearning to see.
“Reggie!”
“I told you, I’d be here, I’m not sure what all the fuss is abo--”
Liv flung her arms around her cousin, her best friend, and squeezed him with all her might.
“Steady on! You always have to be over-the-top about everything, don’t you,” he grumbled good-naturedly, but he kissed her the top of her head as she cried against his chest. He hugged her back, and gave a trembling exhale. “Now that I have you in person; congratulations.”
Liv came away to rub her teary eyes with the back of a hand. “I knew you were coming and everything, ‘m just a bit hormonal for this!”
She put her hands on her hips and took a few deep breaths, righting herself, then looked up at Reggie with a massive grin. He’d been with her through it all… both their spouses had been pregnant at the time, but she and Jeimy had lost their Avis, while Reggie and Mariama had brought home their healthy and bright Olivette-- named in tribute to their bond. Even struggling with parenting a newborn as well as his other two kids, Reggie had always found time for his old cousin, and it was a rare week that would pass without a call between London and San Trobida.
“How have you been?” he asked, “And don’t give me sass because I know childbirth can be godawful….”
“You really think I’d sass you?”
“Sure as bloody hell you would…. But are you doing all right? Other than obviously being touched in the head to have a blasted party of all things so soon after bringing a baby home. I just… I’d like to know you’re doing well.”
“We’re adjusting to the new normal,” she told him. “I’m adjusting… slowly but surely. And there’s grief that’s coming up, but I expected that. Mostly… I’m caught up in loving my baby girl, and so, so damn thankful that she’s here.” She grinned. It was as though she couldn’t think about her little Beatriz without doing so. “Do you wanna meet Bea? She’s having a cuddle with Uncle Michael right now.”
Reggie’s eyes lit up. “I did come all this way, I won’t not say ‘hi’. Actually, I may have promised Sammy and Ange that I send a few photographs-- it’s almost as though the need proof I’m actually here and taking meeting the new little cousin seriously.”
Liv laughed. “I’m sure we can manage that!” She took him by the elbow. “Come on-- you flew all the way from London, you get to skip the cuddle queue.”
And she took him to get acquainted with the baby, beaming as she walked him through a backyard filled with the smiling faces of the people she loved so much-- all there for her. Soon, they’d gather together, and raise a glass; to family, to good times, and to Beatriz Estela Montoya.
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The Long and Short of it All
[A ficlet about Dew trying to repair other people's friendships, feat. my oc, Bea.] Below the cut.
Dew scans the rolling fields of tall grass swaying in the wind, hands cupped by his forehead to block the winter sun from his vision, lips curling into an easy smile at the first subtle peek of short brown hair amongst the golden waves.
"Hey!" he calls, lifting one arm into the air and waving it vigorously at the figure that pokes their head up from where they're kneeling upon the ground, "Bea!"
A pause as the woman squints, and then grins, offering him a small wave in return as she eases herself from the dirt, her gloved hands braced against her stained knees.
"Well, well, well! If it isn't my favorite little fire starter!" she laughs, slipping her gloves off as she climbs the small hill he's stood upon, tucking them into the front pocket of her overalls, "What brings you to this side of the lake?"
"Mountain sent me," Dew says, taking in the view from atop the hill; The lake shines, bitter cold but not quite gone to ice, surrounded by a thousand bare trees sticking up from the earth like teeth, with the occasional still green holly or pine, "since he knows you're still pissed about the greenhouse."
Bea makes an airy, "tsk" sound and sighs.
"I told him time and time again that-" she shakes her head, cutting herself off, "Never mind all of that, what does he need?"
"It seems your plants are being... temperamental." Dew explains, "Normally, all of the plants around the abbey listen to Mount, but the ones you've planted are being, in his own words, 'Finicky little brats'... Not sure how a rose bush can be a brat, but he says he can't get them to grow the way he wants them to."
"If he wants my help," Bea crosses her arms, "then he needs to apologize first."
"He has told me he regrets what he said-" Dew starts.
"To you, maybe." the other frowns, "But not to me. He even sent you here instead of coming himself. Who's being a brat now?"
Dew sticks his hands in his pockets, toeing the ground a bit with his sneaker, "I mean..."
He fidgets and casts his gaze downward.
"I... I don't know why you two... Couldn't you come and talk to him?"
Bea's hands twitch.
"...Why should I do that?" she asks, brown eyes narrowing, hurt apparent, "He's the one who-"
"Because between the two of you," Dew begins, "you're the one that's the most stubborn, you... You're allowed to be mad, upset... but, if you don't come and see him, it's only going to get worse. I mean, I know, from experience... That's how you lose a friend."
Dew watches Bea consider his words, watches the tension leave her body as she drops her arms at her sides.
"...I'll meet him halfway."
"That's-"
"Halfway." she repeats, "If he can prove he's willing to try and fix this, then I'll at least do that much."
"Halfway." Dew echoes, then nods, "Okay, got it."
"Honestly..." Bea pulls her gloves back out of her pocket, slapping them against her thigh to shake some of the dirt from them, "...I've kind of forgotten what we were even arguing about."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." she snorts, "I think, ya know, I think I'm just so used to people leaving 'cause of..."
She gestures vaguely at herself and Dew frowns, knowing all too well what she means by it.
"...I didn't used to be like this."
"It's hard." Dew agrees, looking back out over the lake, at the light hitting the surface, making it glitter and shine, "You can't expect a dog that's been beaten down to trust even a gently offered hand."
"We're dogs now?" Bea laughs, voice pitching slightly.
"Metaphorically speaking." he shrugs, "...Mount doesn't mean... didn't mean to scare you like that."
"I know."
"Do you though?"
The breeze trails between them, a stray snowflake drifting through the air, landing on the gardener's shoulder, and melting into the fabric of her jacket.
"...I dunno." she whispers after a moment, "...Confrontation sucks."
Dew just nods.
"Halfway." she says again, straightening her back, sounding a bit more confident, "Halfway and I'll... I'll talk to the plants... Fuck that sounds so stupid."
"I almost forgot that's why I came out here." Dew barks out a laugh, "You... earth adjacent folks are so weird."
"Oi, you're the walking matchstick here." Bea fires back, "You wish you could sweet talk the trees."
"Actually, I don't, because I think if I started talking to the flora, the higherups would have me carted away."
"True enough." Bea hums, starting down the trail leading to the lake.
"Do the plants ever talk shit about people?" Dew asks, following behind her at an even pace.
"It's less talking shit and more asking for it." Bea casually remarks.
"Gross."
"Hey, whatever helps them grow-"
#lamp writes#shitghosting#nameless ghouls#dewdrop ghoul#mountain ghoul#ghost band#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost band fanfic#ghost band oc#sibling of sin#sibling of sin oc#sister of sin#sister of sin oc#I dunno I just feel like Dew is the type of person who would want to make sure his friends get along#I also felt like writing about Bea
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“And that is why Alex says he loves Henry on purpose. Because he is making the active choice to be with Henry, to forge a forever with him…”
All of it is beautifully persuasive and on point. But this section in particular convinced. You reminded me of Alex and Bea’s conversation and it all makes sense now. I should reread the book 😌Thank you for answering my ask so eloquently. Sincere apology to Alex, that sweet, romantic little shithead.
I'm glad my ramblings made sense! But yeah, Alex is actively choosing Henry - especially in that moment - and it's the first time that someone outside of Bea and Pez (and Shaan but the dynamics there are different) is putting him first.
I think it matters that Alex goes to Henry in that moment. Because outing is shitty enough to begin with but it's a whole other storm for Henry. It would have therefore been easy for Henry to have wanted to escape that, to run away to the 'Land of the free' and hole up in the White House as he threatened to do once.
I should have just packed a bag like I said. I could be in your bed, languishing away until I perish, fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth.
Instead he's trapped in Kensington, trapped in the palace and the institution, and Alex doesn't come to save him or rescue him, despite the quip about being "Bit short for a stormtrooper". (hashtag #imtaller)
The moment that stands out for me in that scene is this:
but they meet in the middle of the room
They meet in the middle. Alex has come to Henry, he has stepped beyond the wall that separates them, but here they meet in the middle.
“And I said, ‘That’s great, Mum, but as long as you’re letting Gran keep me trapped, it doesn’t mean a fucking thing,’” Henry says. Alex stares down at him, shocked and a little impressed.
Henry is trapped in his circumstances, the palace, the family he's been born into, but when he's with Alex he's freer than he could ever be. Alex gives him that space, carves it out. (it's like the fireside scene from the movie where Henry has the line about the prince's heart "did beat freely once more" and I cried over that because Alex gives Henry freedom.)
Alex loves Henry, deeply and fiercely and forever, and so the next step is logical to him:
“Can you explain?” he attempts lamely. “What [Henry's grief over Arthur is] like? What I can do?”
He wants to know because he wants to know what he can do. He wants to understand so he can act, even if it means doing nothing. If that's what Henry needs then that is what he will do. I've read some beautiful fics that show Alex actively caring for Henry during a depressive or grief-filled episode, and I've read fics where all Alex does is be there with him. And both of those choices are valid and perfect because Bea tells Alex what he needs to do.
“Do you understand?” she asks him, looking right into his eyes. “You need to understand this to be with Henry. He is the most loving, nurturing, selfless person you could hope to meet, but there is a sadness and a hurt in him that is tremendous, and you may very well never truly understand it, but you need to love it as much as you love the rest of him, because that’s him. That is him, part and parcel. And he is prepared to give it all to you, which is far more than I ever, in a thousand years, thought I would see him do.”
My brother will love you to the ends of the earth but there will be days when he will struggle to love himself. And you need to know that you are getting both Henrys.
There is a reason why "for better or for worse" is a traditional wedding vow. It's because you are promising to be with that person, to love that person, to support them through the shittiest times just as much as you will celebrate the best of times with them.
Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
To use the Bard's words, love is not love if it fucks off the second things get too hard. Love is not love if it decides that "nah, I liked the person you were yesterday more, please stop growing and changing even if it is just happening because I understand and know more about you". Every single one of us is altering with every single day. We get a little older, a little wiser. Things happen and we have to change and adapt. We reveal a little bit more about ourselves.
Love is not love if it decides that something is too ugly or depressing.
The more Alex comes to know and understand Henry, the more he loves him. And even when he finds out about Henry's depression he's not noping out of there. He's turning up - literally and metaphorically - and we had the foreshadowing that he would do this long before this awful moment:
Listen: I’ll fly to London right now and pull you out of whatever pointless meeting you’re in and make you admit how much you love it when I call you “baby.” I’ll take you apart with my teeth, sweetheart.
If you want out of the meeting then I will do that. If you want to be taken apart then I will do that. If you want to be held then I will do that. Tell me what to do, let me do the things that I know you love because I know you and I want to show you that I know you.
Henry subjected himself to the mortifying experience of being known and it results in them getting married. Because Alex fell in love and he made the choice to see it through. He could have bailed at any time - hell, Henry himself even gave him an out. And what was Alex's response to that?
He wrote him a list and ended with this:
20. The fact that you loved me all along
I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry.
Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down.
(Emphasis is mine. Obvs.)
Alex knows that he has been loved since the Olympics, and the way that Henry has loved him has changed (which is different to altering) because to begin with Henry denied himself Alex to protect himself, and then after the DNC he offered to deny himself Alex to protect Alex. To give Alex a shot at his dream and life plans, all the things that Henry didn't think he could be a part of.
That moment, that offer Henry made, is before the storming of Kensington when everything is laid bare for Alex - how Henry thought he could have something, a small piece of Alex until Alex got bored or frustrated and then left him. (The infererence that other people have done that to Henry in the past will never leave me or not break my heart.) But now Henry knows that Alex is all in, will wait for however long it takes for them to work this out, and so that email is Alex's promise and reminder of that. The stream of "I miss you" without pause going straight into "I love you" makes it clear - Alex isn't even pausing for breath to let Henry know this and he will speak to Henry before he reads this but Alex knows him. Knows he likes to "have these things written down".
Here is my promise to you. Here is that reminder. Here is my choice.
So when Bea tells Alex that he needs to love and accept all the parts of Henry because Henry is willing to give Alex all of those pieces of him, Alex's response is instant. He's already made that choice, even if he didn't consciously realise it. So much of his relationship with Henry has been unconscious and he's caught up with his brain weeks, months, years later down the line.
“But I’ve always felt it, in him. There’s this side of him that’s … unknowable.” He takes a breath. “But the thing is, jumping off cliffs is kinda my thing. That’s the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.”
Alex knows that he will never fully understand what it was like for Henry to lose his father in the way that he did. He can be told the story and he can see the effect of it but he cannot understand it. Not fully. His love-as-a-noun is looking on the tempest of Henry's emotions and he's not moving.
He is choosing to stand on the cliff and he is choosing to jump off it. He loves Henry. He loves the Henry who has depression and grief so visceral it incapacitates him. He loves the Henry who crafts words so carefully to express more than the words themselves ever could. He loves the Henry who is funny and smart and cutting with his wit. He loves the Henry who gives himself up so completely and loves so deeply.
Alex loves Henry all the more because he sees just how strong and brilliant he is behind the polished veneer of the Prince of Wales. (For this I could copy in the entire maps email, or the scene after the LA hotel night when Alex watches Henry transform himself into the Prince.) Alex loves Henry all the more because he is let in on those dark moments, that Henry trusts him and wants him there when he is at his most vulnerable.
Alex loves Henry for who he is, and Henry is who he is because he's been through all the things he's been through. The perfect version of the prince that Alex sneered at at the beginning of the book, the one that he was enamoured with but didn't have the words or the emotional intelligence to understand why, has been altered with each new revelation. Alex has discovered more and more about who Henry is behind that front he puts on to the world and he's still here, standing in Kensington, telling Bea he's not going anywhere. Even if he never fully understands it, even if this part of Henry remains slightly shrouded to him because he can understand the concept but not the reality.
Alex's love did not alter when it alteration found.
#jen answers stuff#anonymous#overthinking jen is overthinking#sorry - didn't plan on another meta when you sent this but here we are#firstprince#alex claremont diaz#prince henry of wales#henry fox mountchristen windsor#red white and royal blue#rwrb#otp: history huh
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Underworld AU - Ava/Beatrice - hurt!Beatrice, blood, fighting, lycan, vampire, forbidden love~
Hello! So this was super fun to think about and I did a whole AU in my head, but this is just a tiny lil snippet.
Thanks for the prompt!
Quick summary of the story in my brain: The OCS is a sect of werewolves dedicated to eradicating vampires and protecting themselves and humanity. Ava gets turned and the OCS figures out she has the ability to become a hybrid so they kidnap her before the vamps can realize her potential. They assign Bea to be her protector/trainer. Obviously, they fall in love and Bea has a whole crisis about it and before they can deal with that, Bea is kicked out of the OCS for refusing to subject Ava to power-dampening experiments that will most likely kill her and for helping her escape. The OCS manages to kidnap Ava again.
And that’s where this lil bit picks up.
-
Shaking, she sinks to the floor, back pressed to the wall and head tilted to the ceiling. There’s no noise behind her, not yet, but it’s coming. As soon as Lilith runs a floor check and finds the body Ava left behind, it’s coming.
Ava is fucked.
She’s so, so fucked.
She forces herself to her feet and hobbles down the tunnel, turns one corner, then another, searching until she spots a door. She doesn’t have much left in her, but if she can get out of here, if she can find Bea and a blood bag and a bed, then maybe, maybe. And even if not, maybe she can just tell Bea…
She falls into the door and reaches blindly for the handle, only realizes what she’s done when she feels a strange texture on the skin of her palm. Releasing the grip, Ava looks down: there’s a new layer of bright red but she can see, underneath, where the fruits of her last attempt are turning darker, bronze barely visible anymore.
One turn too many, then. Too bad being turned didn’t fix her shit sense of direction, although to be fair, she’s literally dying, so.
She tries to ease herself to the floor, but her hand slips against the wall and the tiny bit of strength she has can’t make up for the loss of balance. There’s no stopping the cry that escapes her at impact, her body curling in on itself instinctually.
Ava manages to stretch herself out, press herself up, slump against the wall. They won’t get her lying down, at least.
And she knows, now: they’re gonna get her.
Time passes. The gaping wound in her stomach has almost stopped hurting, which she’s pretty sure is a bad sign, and the tunnel around her is blurry, bricks blending to an indistinguishable mass of gray. There’s a ringing in her ears, a heat and pressure against the back of her eyes. Finally, finally, muffled footsteps close in.
And then hands on Ava’s shoulders, a tight grip maneuvering her body easily so that she’s more upright against the wall.
She forces her eyes open. They’re gonna have to look at her when they do it. She’s gonna make them look at her.
Doing her one last solid, Ava’s brain turns whoever the werewolf above her is into Beatrice, superimposes the golden-brown eyes and perfect freckles. Beatrice, not-Beatrice, is frowning, which, like, not ideal as a last image, but to be fair to her dying brain, Ava had only just begun to see Bea smile on the regular. This worried expression, though. She knows this one super well.
There’s something else not quite right, not quite…the tears. Not-Beatrice is crying?
Ava reaches a hand out, shaking and bloody, toward her face. The tiny part of her still clinging to hope, still operating with some sense of self-preservation, screams in her brain, fighting to remind Ava that it’s not her, that it can’t be her, that Ava is reaching out to her death.
And yeah, Ava spent most of her life, and then most of her vampire life, desperate for a chance to live. But she’s done now. She tried her best and got in way more life than anybody wanted her to have. She’s so tired. She deserves a little peace.
She exhales into the darkness she’d been fighting, stops pushing it away as she makes a last request.
“Tell her I’m sorry. Please. I know you hate me, but can you…can you just tell her? I’m sorry, Bea. I’m so sorry.”
Fingers smooth through her hair, or try to, catching in blood. Then they’re on her cheeks, her arms. Gentle. Gentle. There’s an adjustment of her jaw, a press of something warm and soft against her lips, pressing into her mouth. The discomfort hardly registers, means nothing to her now.
But the voice. Even close to death, muffled with Ava’s fading sense, the voice means something. Means everything.
“No, Ava. I’m sorry. I love you.”
There’s a sharp pain against her kidney and her body reacts, jaw clenching feebly, a sound of pain from not-Beatrice and something isn’t right, something isn’t…
When she wakes, there’s blood in her mouth, warm and fresh and not hers, but familiar, somehow. Her eyes open to the tunnels and a body. Her body, curled around Ava’s, wrist open at the vein, skin unnaturally pale.
“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She scrambles, feels no pain, and pulls Beatrice up into her arms as if she weighs nothing. “Bea. Bea. Come on, please. Please.” Ava runs her fingers over freckles, cool to the touch, cups her jaw. “What did you do? What did you do?”
There’s a pulse, faint but there, and Ava gasps out her relief.
She manages to tear at her own shirt and wrap Bea’s wrist tightly in a few strips of fabric before she hears footsteps. They’re still far away, further away than Ava would’ve been able to hear before Bea gave her a real fresh shot of werewolf blood, but she doesn’t wait before standing and yanking the door from its hinges.
She lifts Bea into her arms and crosses into the newly opened room, sets her gently against a column as she takes stock: it’s a large chamber with no other visible entry point. Well, no other entry point for people who aren’t Ava, anyway. The high, glass-domed ceiling is practically an invitation to her now.
She closes her eyes and breathes deep. It’s all instinct but it works, and pain takes over as her body shifts. The muscles in her shoulders stretch and re-form, shoulder blades splitting and branching the length of her spine twice over, skin expanding to form the membrane of the wings spread behind her.
Her senses have gone fucking wild. Beyond being able to see into every dark corner, she can suddenly pinpoint every feature of the room based on the sounds the drops of water make when they hit the floor, which is, if she’s remembering her David Attenborough right, a function of echolocation.
Right. Yeah. That’s new.
It’s not like there’s a mirror around for her to check out her fresh-from-the-werewolf-market monster bod, but she’s pretty fucking sure she’s terrifying, based on the illustrations in the dusty-ass books the OCS kept looking at all solemnly and also, like, the feel of the wings growing from her back. She lifts a claw—yeah, a claw—to her face and groans at the Voldemort nose she finds. Cool, cool, cool.
That brief movement of her arm, the feel of muscles shifting, tells her she could demolish one of these columns without breaking a sweat.
She gets why the OCS was so desperate to keep her and her special blood away from basically everyone. She’s some fucking weapon, for sure.
Ava’s been tracking the footsteps, picks up Bea and has them in the air before Lilith and her posse have even made it through the door. She shoots toward the ceiling with as much power as she can, curling her wings around Beatrice protectively just before they burst through the dome, shattered glass raining down.
She hears a cry and, Bea secured, reaches one taloned claw back to give Lilith the finger. She won’t see it, but it makes Ava feel a little better, at least.
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Ava paced. That’s more of Bea’s thing, but the situation warranted it. The sisters were busy at mass, but Ava needed a moment alone, racking her brain for a who, why, where, treading over and over through the halls of the convent.
Bea, gone. Just her staff and a pool of fresh blood left at the end of the battle.
Solemn footsteps fell against the stone floors, pausing at the portrait of Saint Beatrice. Saint Beatrice da Silva, patron saint of prisoners. The bound and captured-
No. Ava turned, briskly following the hall towards the courtyards. Her Bea was strong, and gracious, and free. Their time in the Alps had cemented that, between the longing glances and that final kiss, a faint tinge of iron on her lips.
Beatrice was fine. She was probably making her way back right now, after kicking ass in some sleepy little town that she got dragged off to. The Halo vibrates in her back, light pulsing with her rapid heartbeat. Blood rushes in her ears as she wills herself to calm down.
“Ava,” a soft voice rasps, breaking through the fervent flow battering the inside of her head.
She turns with a gasp, Halo falling dark. “Beatrice?!”
There. Crumpled on the floor, under dark burgeoning patches on her skin.
“Bea!” She runs, feet pounding, crashing to her knees as she reaches her love. “Bea, Bea, Bea,” she begs, hands searching for wounds, then moving to cradle her face. “Bea, look at me,” she demands, tapping her finger against a dirty cheek.
Flakes of blood break off with each tap, and Bea’s head lolls in her grasp.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” she hefts Bea’s arm over her shoulder, clinging to her side as she struggles towards the nave.
— — —
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, let us pray for the safe return of our Sister Beatrice-"
"MOTHER!"
The doors to the nave bang open, Ava staggering in, Beatrice partially slung over her shoulders. Halo pulsing in bright bursts of light, illuminating the dark red staining Beatrice’s clothes.
Mary’s jumping pews, Lilith teleporting to catch Bea as she sags against the floor.
“C’mon Beatrice,” Mary urges, sighing in relief when her eyes flutter open, just a crack. “That’s it, keep going little sister, open your eyes,” she coaxes, pushing up Bea’s sleeve to find her pulse. Her hand stills, eyes fixed on the skin.
Bea’s breath hitches, eyes going wide as she tries to yank herself out of their grasp. “NO! Don’t- don’t- please- I’ll listen-” she forces out through chapped lips, almost grey. She’s trembling now, eyes shooting around the room, unseeing. Blood drips down her forehead as she shakes, “Please. Please, don’t hurt them. I’ll do any-” she breaks off with a gasp, eyes rolling to the back of her head.
Then she sinks deeper into Lilith’s side, unconscious again.
Shock. Suppose their prayer did get answered, in a way.
"Guys," Mary starts, voice subdued, like a weight is sitting on her chest, "You should see this." She shifts Bea's sleeve up, revealing the glaring red light, just under the skin of her wrist.
It blinks. Taunting. Relentless.
Bea twitches, the edge of a paper making itself known. Ava reaches forward, pulling it gently with shaking hands.
It sends terror straight to her gut. That note, pinned to Bea's shirt collar, corners stained with blood.
Quite obedient!
The Halo thrums with rage, unbridled energy radiating from her core. But it's the second line that sends cold fear running down her back.
I can’t wait to play again.
#this one was just unhinged#idk where it came from#but now they can match!!!#ava w the halo#and bea w her captors evil tracking device!#and to think this started out as a dehydration fic#l o l !#warrior nun#avatrice#sister beatrice#shotgun mary#lilith villaumbrosia#mother superion#mines#hcs#boink scribbles
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the smallest man who ever lived
by HypnosTheory
Henry somehow folds his long limbs up so tightly he looks small. He reaches up to scrub at his eye, his long sleeve caught in his balled fist. “Robert Graves has written a screenplay.”
“Who’s Robert Graves?”
“The man I lost my virginity to.”
__
Henry gets word that the man he lost his virginity to has written a screenplay about the encounter. Alex fixes the problem.
Words: 4279, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 7 of HypnosTheory's RW&RB Era's Tour
Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Philip Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, mentions of previous underage, Alex Storms a Palace Again, Mental Breakdown, Bea Helps, Philip Also Helps Kinda, Abuse of a BAFTA Membership, Henry's Canonically Shitty First Time, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
via https://ift.tt/im7aJIz
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Hi Dren :)
If your angsty muse is willing, I would love to see your take on 1. “I thought I would never see you again.” 👀
“Ava?”
Beatrice’s holographic image warps in and out of existence like the flame of a soldering torch almost spent. No longer laminar and pointed and propane blue, but a pale flickering ghost against the shadowed backdrop of the corridor.
“Ava, do you copy?” Static. An afterimage overwriting Beatrice’s face, her brows pinched by concern. Bodies piled on bodies piled on severed parts in the middle of a room with no regards for decency. Horror, filtered through the uncaring lens of a low-res surveillance camera.
“Ava, can you hear me?”
The signal clears. The holo image steadies. Beatrice solidifies in front of Ava’s eyes, her lips moving, mouth opening to ask again.
“I can—” Something heavy scratches at the grille of the nearest air vent. Ava cuts the video feed off, plunging the hallway into complete darkness. “Hold on.” Beatrice’s rapid breathing echoes inside her ears. “Something—”
The scratching increases. She can hear growling too. A strange, wet sound, caught between a gurgle and a groan. The pain, Ava thinks, of a stomach hollowed out by hunger. She flattens herself to the floor, teeth clenched around a shuddering exhale. The growling moves away from her position. To the next vent, the one further down the corridor. Then, it ceases altogether.
Whatever’s hunting her is gone. For now.
“I can hear you.’ A flick of her wrist and the video feed between her and Bea is restored. Awash in the gray-blue light of the projected image, Ava offers a thumbs up and a grin. Beatrice’s brow doesn’t smooth, but her eyes flood with relief.
“Thank God.” Beatrice is clutching something Ava cannot quite make out. No. Wait. It’s Lilith’s rifle. Why does Bea — “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Thought I’d never see me again either, honestly.” When the lights had gone out, when those conglomerates of teeth and sharpened bone had burst out from every wall, screaming. When they had scattered. Ava had thought she was dead. That they all were. She shrugs the memory away. “Are you guys okay?”
“I’m with Cam.” Summoned, Camila pops in frame for a moment. “The others… We got separated. We’ve been trying to hail them since.” Beatrice’s tone strains under the weight of something unspoken, but she pulls it together before Ava has a chance to ask her what it is. “Cam is sending you our position. Do you think you can reach us?”
“I don’t know where I am.” Ava had run, same as them, with no real sense of direction. She’d run until she couldn’t run anymore. “But I can try and crawl back to you once I get my bearings.”
“Crawl?” Beatrice’s frown is back full force. “Ava what are you — are you hurt?”
“Not exactly.” Ava fiddles with the video controls, allowing the FOV to pan out. For the first time, Beatrice can see her in full. See how she sprawls, belly-down, on the frigid floor plating. How her legs trail behind her. Useless and dead. “The hydraulics of my exosuit got damaged as I fled. I don’t feel anything from the waist down.”
“Okay then we’re coming to you.” Beatrice’s hands tighten on the rifle and she shifts to redistribute its weight. She’s used to fixing things, not shooting them apart. “Cam can trace you through the comms and we can use the tram system to—”
“No can do.” Cam interjects from somewhere behind Bea. Ava hears the steady click clack of a keyboard. It’s strangely calming. “Tram network is down, and the only way to reboot it is on Ava’s side of the ship.”
“And you think I can fix it because?” Ava pushes up on her hands, swallowing on bile when her fingers slide through something viscous and still warm. “Bea’s the engineer.”
“I can tell you what to do.” Bea’s smile is encouraging but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “First we got to get you walking again, somehow.”
“That I can help with.” A row of emergency lights fizzes on at the end of the hall, their tired yellow glow pulling Ava forward. “There’s a suit repair station close by.” The latent tension in Camila’s voice eases and she adds. “Just follow the light.”
***
“Are you sure about this, Cam?” Ava grabs at a piece of jutting metal and heaves until she’s upright, mostly, leaning like a drunk against the rivet-studded bulwark. “It doesn’t look like a repair station to me.”
“Well, the map—”
“Hold on, there’s some letters.” Ava has to drag herself inside the narrow alcove and twist around to read. “It says—” H.A.L.O. she mouths, quietly. An acronym. An acronym for what? “Yeah, Cam this really doesn’t make any—”
The feed cuts off.
“Welcome,” a voice says all around her. “To the High Altitude Long Operations exoskeletal system. Please, stand by.”
“The what?” Ava’s attempt to wiggle away is thwarted by hundreds of copper wires snaking out of compartments she’s positive were smooth unbroken metal seconds ago. Each magnetically attaches to the ports of her damaged exosuit, snagging her in place. “Wait!” She says to nobody in particular. “Hold on, what are you doing?’
“Please relax.’ The incorporeal voice suggests. “Connecting shortly.”
The last thing Ava sees before the ship’s walls collapse around her is the name. USG Ishimura framed in blood.
After, there is only searing white.
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Again - Avatrice training AU [part 4]
[part 3 here]
The knock on the door was so soft, so hesitant, Beatrice thought she imagined it. Still, she stood up and walked to the door, ignoring how painful it was to even sit up on her bed.
“Beatrice?” she heard Ava whisper from the other side, right before she opened the door.
“Ava.” Ava’s smile seemed to falter slightly at the cold, close off Bea that greeted her at the door, but Beatrice was too tired to comment on it.
She walked to her small dressing table, taking her hair out of it’s bun and picking up her hairbrush before turning back around to face Ava.
“Do you need anything?” She asked tentatively, after noticing Ava stood frozen right next to the now closed door, her wide eyes fixed on her.
Ava, on the other hand, momentarily forgot everything she meant to say when Beatrice turned around with her hair down, slightly messy and slicked back from being in a tight bun all day. She would’ve thought her adorable, had it not been for the dark circles under her eyes that reminded her exactly of why she was there.
“I’m- no, actually,” Ava took a step forward, fidgeting with a loose thread of her sleeve. “I came to ask if you needed anything.”
“Me?” Beatrice asked with confusion, and Ava had to clasp her hands together to keep herself from poking the frown between the older girl’s eyebrows.
“Yes, you. You’ve been getting the worst part of our training, so I thought I’d check up on you.” Ava scratched the back of her head anxiously, eyes casted down in embarrassment. “How’s your leg?”
“Oh.“ was all Beatrice could answer at first, taken aback by the sudden question.
She was still processing how, despite how harsh she had been to her during training, Ava still wanted to see her; maybe she even cared for her.
“I’m fine.” She managed to say with a shrug, tearing her eyes away from Ava to stare at her own feet.
“Have you checked it?” Ava questioned, noticing Beatrice was still wearing the same training clothes.
Beatrice felt a blush creep up her cheeks, giving her back to Ava and choosing to sit at the foot of her bed in a poor attempt to hide it.
“Not yet, but it feels alright.” she tried kicking her shoes off to prove her point, but it backfired when she accidentally hit her calf against the bed frame.
As soon as Ava heard her pained gasp, she was standing in front of her, genuine concern so clear in her face Beatrice felt a pang of guilt.
“Here, let me.“
Ava fell to her knees before she could get an answer, making Beatrice feel her heart flutter. Gently, she untied the laces of her shoes, pulling them out with so much care as though Beatrice might break. Next, Ava looked up at Beatrice, wide eyes already fixed on her, and then back to her feet, her hands hovering over the end of her leggings, silently asking for permission to lift it. Beatrice gave her a small, absent nod, stopping herself from shivering when she felt Ava’s fingers lightly graze her bare leg.
“You don’t-“ Beatrice seemed to snap out of her daze, trying to pull herself away from Ava’s touch, but stopped as soon as she saw the smile on Ava’s face fall. When Beatrice didn’t continue, Ava took it as silent resignation and continued to pull up the legging, biting her lip to suppress a gasp when she saw the dark, purple bruise covering the outer side of Beatrice’s leg.
“Ouch.” Was all Ava managed to say, after uncovering the other leg only to find a similar bruise, maybe a little lighter.
“They always look worse than they are.” She wasn’t lying, it really seemed a lot worse, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“I’ll be right back.” Before Beatrice could get a word out, Ava had bolted out the door.
Beatrice just sat there, staring at the point where Ava’s warm eyes used to be.
She couldn’t understand how, why, Ava was there.
Yes, Ava is naturally kind, and caring, and loving, but Beatrice never imagined herself being the one on the receiving end.
Even if they got along, even if they’d sit together at dinner, exchange smiles in the halls and stupid puns during training, Beatrice considered herself nothing more than an acquaintance to Ava, though she herself considered Ava a lot more than that.
After their long training hours, after all the harsh things she’d said, after getting her ass kicked publicly by Beatrice more than once, she didn’t expect Ava to care about her outside the training room. Hell, she didn’t expect her to like her.
Still, Ava came back a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding what Beatrice assumed were two ice packs wrapped in towels. Without saying anything, Ava went back to kneeling in front of Beatrice, seeing that the older girl hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d left her.
As gentle as ever, Ava pressed an ice pack against her left leg and Beatrice shivered, not so much for the cold as for the feeling of Ava’s fingers against her skin.
“I can do that.” Beatrice argued, her voice coming out far too weak for her liking. She tried to make her point clear by placing her hand over Ava’s, but Ava continued with her task, paying no mind to Beatrice’s hand on hers, pressing the second ice pack to the other leg. “Ava, it’s fine.”
Ava’s hands faltered, taken aback by the suddenly stern, closed off Beatrice. She looked up, only to find Beatrice’s dark eyes on her, hiding a turmoil of emotions Ava thinks she could never unravel. Still, she pressed the ice packs back on the bruises after a beat of silence, giving Beatrice a small, sad smile.
“Beatrice.”
Her name sounded different each time Ava said it.
Beatrice wasn’t sure how, but each time they were together Ava seemed to call her name with a new, complex emotion that she couldn’t quite label. Sometimes it was sadness, others a little teasing, and a lot of the times with frustration, but it always had something Beatrice couldn’t quite figure out. This time, Beatrice would dare say she called her with endearment, hurt hidden beneath it.
“I’m sorry.” Beatrice let out, looking out the dark window to avoid Ava’s eyes.
“It’s fine.” Ava reassured, but Beatrice kept her eyes fixed on the window. “I just wish-“ she stopped, suddenly considering the weight of her words. At the sudden silence, Beatrice couldn’t help but look, finding Ava staring right back at her. “Just…take care of yourself?” she chose to say, after the silence had extended for too long. Beatrice kept her eyes fixed on hers, as if she could physically see Ava’s thoughts if she tried hard enough.
The truth is, Ava didn’t want her to just take care of herself.
She wanted Beatrice to let her in, to allow her to care for her and share the burdens she most definitely had, but chose to keep to herself.
She always chose to keep to herself.
She wanted to see Beatrice smile more often, to see her without a cut or a bruise for once and to know what she enjoys to do on her days off.
And maybe, when Ava let her selfish thoughts get the best of her, she wanted to be the one by her side, the one who makes her smile and spends her days with, for Beatrice to consider her a trustworthy friend.
Even if she wasn’t her friend and they never saw each other again, Ava wanted her to be happy, because ever since the day they first met she thought Beatrice to be deserving of it; of smiles and laughs and love and care.
Beatrice settled for giving her a firm nod, half expecting Ava to say something else, but not pushing her to when she didn’t. She allowed her to continue with her task, pressing the ice packs on her legs until the towels were soaking wet.
“You should put some cream on them before going to bed.” Ava stated, standing up from her kneeling position.
Beatrice, as if startled by Ava’s voice, stood up quickly, leaving her inches from Ava, who seemed to loose her balance at the sudden move. Instinctively, Beatrice grabbed her elbows to steady her, leaving Ava’s hands pressed against her own chest.
Her breath caught in her throat, feeling Ava’s cold hands through her shirt because of the ice packs and her deep brown eyes looking at her wide in surprise. Beatrice allowed herself to let her eyes roam around Ava’s face, taking in every little detail she could only ever notice with this little distance. Unwillingly, her eyes finally landed on the girl’s slightly parted lips, looking back up at Ava’s eyes far too quickly, afraid to be caught staring.
“Shower.” Beatrice managed to croak out, her voice shaky and too loud, snapping them both out of their daze. As soon as Beatrice let go of Ava, and the younger girl took a step back, but her eyes remained fixed on Beatrice’s.
“What?”
“I- I should shower before putting anything on.” Beatrice clarified, walking to the other side of the room to gather herself.
“Right.” Ava took that as her to leave and walked towards the door.
“Ava?” Beatrice called before the girl was fully out of the room. “Thank you.” She stated genuinely, offering a small warm smile to Ava, who gave her a wide, bright grin before wishing her goodnight and closing the door.
When Beatrice came out of the shower, she found a small, white tube of cream on her nightstand, along with a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.
criticism and comments and prompts or ideas or anything is always welcomed :D
#is this angst?#idk but#this is my best one yet I think#hurt!bea#>>>>#might post this on ao3 idk#wait until I get time to make up her childhood trauma#because she has A LOT#ava silva#avatrice#sister beatrice#save warrior nun#warrior nun#wlw#writing#avatrice au
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through the hourglass 262. brb x oc
a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)
pairing: plus size!oc x rooster
warnings: none uwu
goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)
chapter
1/
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/239/240/241/242/243/244/245/246/247/248/249/250/251/252
/253/254/255/256/257/258/259/260/261
(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
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-
He was a bit nervous, okay he was very nervous, lies all around. But at least he was surrounded by the people he worked with and cared for. He looked around for Beatrice for a bit until he saw her head peeking out of the corner.
Her eyes lit up when she saw him, “Well,” she begins, crossing her arms as she slowly approached him with a pleased nod, “You look really handsome,Mr.Bradshaw.”
Rooster tried to reply but Marcus’ assistants, the ones helping him get ready for the photoshoot, told him not to move. ‘Thanks,gorgeous.” he says, holding his head high so they could fix his neckline, “Was it like this when you had your first photoshoot?”
The room was a whirlwind of activity as the crew, makeup artists, and assistants rushed around, making sure everything was perfect for the day's shoot. Rooster couldn't help but feel a rush of nerves coursing through him.
He had never been opposed to enjoy being the center of attention, but the idea of posing for photographs in various outfits and settings was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.
Beatrice chuckled softly, her eyes soft as she leaned against the wall. "Oh, it was worse. I was a bundle of nerves,I almost backed out.But trust me, once you get into the groove of it, it can be quite fun."
Rooster couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, skeptical of her claim. "Fun?"
She nodded, her smile widening. "Yes, fun! You get to play different roles, try on different outfits, and experiment with different expressions. It's like stepping into another world for a little while."
Rooster took a deep breath, trying to muster some enthusiasm for the day ahead. "Alright," he said, his tone more determined, "I'll do my best to embrace the experience and have some fun with it."
Beatrice grinned "That's the spirit! And don't worry, I'll be right here to support you every step of the way."
“Good.” he grunts a bit, his arms hurting from holding them up for so long, “Can I lower my arms now?” he questions the crew who nod before stepping back. He groans happily, his shoulders immediately relaxing as soon as he relaxes them, “Holy shit.”
Bea steps closer to him, seeing that the assistants were busy helping the rest of the Dagger Squad get ready, leaving them alone. She smiles at him, then runs her fingers down the lapel of his jacket, before fixing his collar, “You look really handsome.”
Rooster couldn't help but smile at Beatrice's compliment. Her touch and words had a calming effect on him, easing some of the tension that had built up in the hectic preparation for the photoshoot. “Thanks, Bea," he replied, his voice softening as he looked into her eyes. "You don’t look that bad either."
Beatrice chuckled, her fingers still lingering on his jacket. "Flattered,I’m still wearing what I left home with. Marcus decided that me and the girls will do ours later."
Rooster couldn't help but admire Beatrice's beauty. Even in the midst of the whirlwind of activity, she exuded…such a calmness that drew people - and him specifically - to her. Her presence was a source of comfort amidst the chaos of the photoshoot preparations.
He leaned in closer, his voice low as he spoke to her. "You always manage to look stunning, no matter the circumstances."
She blushed slightly at his compliment, her fingers finally leaving his jacket as she stepped back. "You're too kind, Rooster. But remember, you and the others are the stars of the show today."
“Yeah,I know.” he mutters, looking down at his outfit and then sighing as he slid his hands in his pants’ pockets, “How’s Nikki?”
She looks back to where their daughter was, happily playing within the playpen Marcus prepared just for her, within sight and reach for both of them, “She’s…discovering that Versace has several toys.” cue to Nicole grabbing a very expensive looking teddy bear and then shaking it like no tomorrow, “But she’s fine, I prefer she stays there than wandering around the studio, it’s not going to be safe for her once we start.”
Rooster chuckled at the sight of their daughter causing chaos among the designer toys. "Looks like she's having a blast, even if it's at Versace's expense."
Beatrice nodded, a fond smile on her face as she watched Nikki's little adventures. "She's quite the wild one. Takes after her father, I'd say."
Rooster grinned. "Well, as long as she doesn't start demanding designer clothes at her age, we'll be fine." he pauses, squinting his eyes, “I’m sorry,” she starts giggling, “Did you just say I’m a wild one?”
Beatrice playfully nudged him. "Who,me?Never.” she giggles again, “I mean, you do have your moments…you know I love them no matter what.” her husband didn’t appear amused, well,he was. He was trying very hard not to show his smile, “I love all your little quirks,Roos!”
Her laughter was like music to his ears, a melody that could lighten up even the most stressful moments. He leaned in to give her a quick peck on the lips. "I guess I can be a handful sometimes, “ his eyes drop to her body, slowly, “But there’s always a reason to.”
“Mhm.”
“And I swear,” he leans closer, speaking through his teeth while lowering his lips, “If we were completely alone, I’d just show you,” he kisses her lips, “How much of a handful I can be.” and she laughs against his lips, meeting his mouth before swatting his chest gently.
“Bradley Nicholas, don’t you start.”
“Because I always finish.” he coos, about to pinch her ass cheek but stopping when he heard footsteps approaching the small area they were. He stands straight, poker face on, as Marcus wanders in.
“Ah,my favorite couple.” he smiles, holding his camera in one hand, “How are you two? Oh,Bradley you look fantastic darling! I knew that blue would be perfect for your skin tone–” he then turns to Beatrice, “And you darling, you okay? How is little Nikki?”
Beatrice smiled warmly at Marcus as he approached, appreciating his compliment. "Thank you, Marcus. We're doing well, and Nikki is having a great time um…” she looks back to where their daughter was, “Discovering luxury brands.”
Marcus chuckled and gestured toward the playpen where Nikki was still enthusiastically interacting with the toys. "Well, it's always a delight to have her here. She adds a certain charm to the studio. She’s a little fashionista in the making."
He then grinned. "Now, speaking of which, shall we get started with the shoot? I have some incredible designs to showcase, and you,” he points at Rooster, “Is up already,sir. Everyone else is waiting for you."
“They are?”
“Mhm,” he looks down at his camera, “All your pilot friends are ready to join you in this…journey.” he smiles up at him, “Now, if you two needed a few more minutes, some pep talk,I’ll be waiting outside,yes?”
Rooster inhales a bit, then looks down at Bea.She gave Rooster an encouraging smile, her eyes shining as she keeps her vision on him, “Well…then I don’t see why wait,huh?”
“Marvelous! Follow me!”
With that, Marcus led them to the main studio area where a backdrop featuring a sleek, modern aircraft had been set up. The lights were positioned perfectly to illuminate the scene, and various props were scattered around to enhance the theme
Rooster couldn't help but be impressed by the setup. "This looks amazing, Marcus. You really know how to create an atmosphere." and while it was obviously a backdrop, Rooster did step closer to the aircraft with his hands on his hips “...this looks like a F-22 almost.” he gestures to it, leaning even closer, “Damn I can even see the bolts that keep it together.”
Marcus beamed with pride as Rooster appreciated the attention to detail. "Ah, I'm glad you noticed, darling! I wanted everything to be as authentic as possible. This is indeed modeled after the F-22."
As Rooster examined the backdrop, Marcus turned his attention to Beatrice. "And you, my dear, are you going to stay and watch your husband do a good job?”
Beatrice blushed as she looked back at Rooster, who was getting himself accustomed to the whole scenery, “Yeah,” she then points to Nicole’s playpen, “I can see Nikki from here too,so I think it’s perfect. I’ll keep quiet here.”
Or try to, after all,Shells was in the building as well.
Marcus nodded with a knowing smile. "Excellent, darling. We'll make sure to keep you posted on the progress. And don't worry about Nikki; I've arranged for a babysitter to keep an eye on her. She'll be just fine."
“You–what? Marcus, no it’s fine I–”
“Sssh!” he taps her nose, “Don’t be like that, she’ll be safe and okay, don’t you worry.”
With that settled, Marcus turned his attention back to Rooster, who was still admiring the F-22-inspired backdrop this time alongside Payback . "Alright, my star pilots, let's get you prepped and ready for your moment in the spotlight."
Payback looked back at Marcus, “Yeah,uh,about that, do we…what do we do?’ he gestures to the rest of the pilots who were just standing by, “Are you going to pose us or something?”
Marcus smiled and clapped his hands together. "Absolutely, darling. We have a vision here, and we're going to make you all look like the stars you are. Now, gather around, everyone."
"First things first," Marcus said, “Let’s see…Phoenix,darling.” he gently holds her hands and brings her forward, “You stay…here, perfect.”
Beatrice watched Marcus move the pilots around carefully, as if they were children themselves and she hated to admit how hilarious that was. They all looked terrified yet intrigued by what was happening. As she watched from the wall, a presence appeared next to her, followed by a loud crunch of an apple being bitten.
“Hey Shells.”
“Hi babes.”
She looked over at the blonde who was chewing apple slices while looking ahead just like she was, “Snacking already?”
Shells shrugged nonchalantly, "Gotta keep my energy up for all this posing, you know? Plus, these apples are surprisingly good."
“Yeah?”
Shells grinned and took another bite of her apple. "I think they are imported or something.” she mutters, chewing the piece in her mind, “Anyway,they are doing well so far,huh? Look at my Bob.” she waves at the spectacled officer who smiles and reciprocates just as quickly, “You are doing great sweetie!”
Bea just smiles as she crosses her arms, looking over at Rooster - her tall husband looked so confused, it was adorable. “They are doing okay, honestly I’m just glad we are able to do this before Rooster and Nikki’s birthday next week.”
Meanwhile, Marcus continued to work his magic, shifting the pilots around and providing them with instructions. He had a talent for making people feel at ease, even in situations as potentially awkward as a group photoshoot.
After a series of group shots, Marcus decided to focus on individual portraits. He called out names one by one, guiding each pilot to their designated spot and giving them personalized instructions. It was clear that he had a vision for each person and was determined to capture their unique personalities.
"Rooster!" Marcus called out,making the tall officer blink up at him.
Beatrice couldn't help but grin as she watched her husband, Rooster, step forward enough uncertainty in his step that he quickly hid before it stopped him.
"Rooster, darling," Marcus began, placing a hand on Rooster's shoulder, "I see strength, determination, and a touch of vulnerability in those eyes. Let's capture that."
“Wha?”
“Yeah, it’s okay, relax.” he smiles, “You can take a few steps back.”
Rooster nodded after a while, he looked back at the rest of the squad and they just gave him a thumbs up. When he turned to Beatrice,who was watching this from a distance, he could feel part of his anxiety disappear because she mouthed the word ‘relax’ while giving him a sweet grin.
“I…uh…what pose should I…be?” he asks Marcus, because in a group shot he could work with anything, but like this? That was a bit freaky, he couldn’t lie
Marcus looked at Rooster thoughtfully, studying his features for a moment. "Well," he began, "let's start with something natural. Just stand there, relax your shoulders, and look directly into the camera. Imagine you're flying, the thrill of being up there in the sky."
Rooster nodded, trying to channel that feeling of freedom he experienced when piloting his aircraft. He took a deep breath, letting go of some of his nervous tension, and assumed the pose Marcus had suggested.
"That's it," Marcus encouraged, his camera clicking away. "Now, let's try one with a slight smile. Think of something that makes you genuinely happy."
Rooster eyes immediately moved to Beatrice and Marcus smiled because that was his plan all along.Bea was holding Nicole now, the little girl focused on what was going on while pointing to her father and voicing something only for her mother to nod. A small, genuine smile crept onto his face, and Marcus captured the moment quickly.
"Perfect," Marcus said, reviewing the shot on his camera. "You have a great smile, Rooster. Let's try something a bit more serious now."
Rooster adjusted his expression, even if he did want to keep looking over at Bea.
"Excellent," Marcus praised. "You're a natural, Rooster. Now, one last shot. Let's go for something more relaxed again.”
Rooster relaxed his posture once more, letting go of the tension that had built up during the shoot. He had to admit, it was fun, it was really fun. And he knew that Beatrice liked it too because he could hear her soft laughing from behind the camera.
"Fantastic," Marcus said, lowering his camera. "You did great, Rooster. "
Rooster let out a relieved sigh, feeling grateful for Marcus' patience. "Thanks, Marcus. That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
Marcus grinned. "See, I told you there's nothing to worry about. Now, let's move on to the next pilot. Coyote! Come on up!"
Beatrice, standing to the side, couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as she observed each pilot step up and do a great job. She grew to adore them immensely, who knew it’d end up like that? They had become like a second family to her and Rooster.
After the individual portraits were done, Marcus gathered the pilots for one final group shot. They stood in formation, looking sharp and confident in their outfits . Marcus climbed onto a ladder to get the perfect angle,making some of his assistants freak out because that was not part of the shoot, and the pilots held their poses looking a bit up towards him.
"Alright, everyone," Marcus called out, "one last shot, and we're done."
As the camera shutter clicked,Beatrice clapped her hands - the best she could since she was carrying Nikki- and then told Nikki to clap hers because ‘Dada did it!”. She clapped her hands excitedly when Marcus announced they were done for the day, jumping out of the ladder and making his crew almost faint because of it.
The energy on the set was palpable as the pilots and Marcus's crew celebrated the successful photoshoot. Beatrice watched with a fond smile as Rooster and his fellow pilots exchanged high-fives and pats on the back.
Rooster made his way over to Beatrice, a proud grin on his face. He gently scooped up Nicole from her arms, holding her high above his head. "Did you see, sweetheart? Daddy did it!" he exclaimed, eliciting a delighted giggle from their daughter.
Beatrice laughed, her heart warmed by the sight of her husband and their daughter. "Yes, Nikki, Dada did amazing!" She leaned in and kissed Rooster, cupping his cheek with her hand, “You all did great.”
"Thank you, baby," Rooster whispered, "I couldn't have done it without you."
Beatrice smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting her love for him. "You don't have to thank me, Rooster. We're always here to support you, no matter what." she says, “And now, a break, then I’ll go and have the shoot done.”
“Shells too,right?” he asks, looking back to the blonde who was busy peppering kisses on Bob’s face, “Ev isn’t coming?”
Beatrice shakes her head, “Not with Jake Jr- feels so weird saying that name–” he mutters a ‘you have no idea’ “He’s too young to be left alone like that, Marcus understood though.” she smiles up at him, “Join me before I go?”
He smirks, kissing her forehead, “You bet,gorgeous.”
#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x oc#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x named reader#tgm oc#tgm fic#tgm fanfiction
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do…. do you have any phandrow headcanons… and/or headcanons about phantom and woodrow seperately…. smiles politely
Sure, I guess it's time to share some things that I've tought until now for these two!
Something about Woodrow that I don't think I've shared yet:
Him and Sweetlopek are best friends since elementary school. Sweetlopek defended him from bullies and Woodrow helped him with literature homework. Everyone in town started calling them "the disaster duo" as kids due to Woodrow's jinx and Sweetlopek's fondness for sharp things.
His cloud Jinx is the one constantly above his house. A small portion of it can detach to follow him everywhere, even on other planets, altought it's not really know how it gets there as it isn't allowed anywhere inside, even a spaceship.
He's trans. He briefly went to live with Sweetlopek after his top surgery so he could get some help from his friend while he recovered (yes he got a cone of shame too, lmao). His little cloud Jinx refused to stay outside so the two Rabbids agreed to let it in to watch over its owner. Jinx probably tought Woodrow was injured like after the ship accident, but it seemed deligthed when its owner looked really happy instead.
He can't keep his hair combed, no matter how much hair conditioner, oil or hair straightener he will always have a cowlick.
Rabbids' skeletons are very weird and able to collapse (like a mouse's). Woodrow's one after the ship accident is more messed up. He can basically do a 180 Exorcist style, but with his torso and he can be stretched out without being hurt.
Little about Phantom, why not?
He sincerely tought he was straight. Then between Bea's backup dancer (yes, I headcanon him as male for this now, lol) and then Woodrow he realized he's bi.
He's afraid of chandeliers. What if one crashes on his head?? (I know in the og Phantom of the Opera the chandelier doesn't fall on the Phantom, but I think our Phantom needs an irrational fear, plus it's a funny reference to that scene)
He makes flower orders from Terra Flora under a false name. He could buy flowers from another place, but he adores Bea's compositions. Even if he'll never admit it.
And now Phandrow moments!
Phantom and Woodrow are the couple who lose all their braincells when they are together.
Woodrow is the guy who could set on fire even a salad when cooking, meanwhile Phantom is a pretty good cook. He's also a grandma when it comes to food, so he cooks a lot and if youre not hungry, well you are, lol. After they moved in together Woodrow gained a bit of weight.
Phantom loves playing with makeup. Woodrow was never a fan, but in one of their "no braincells found" moments, he agreed to have Phantom do his makeup. He gave him a moustache with eyeliner and Woodrow bursted laughing saying he looked like his father. He then proceeded to keep it for the day to confuse everyone in town.
In one of their anniversaries together they both had the idea to gift eachother a rubber ducky dressed up as themselves.
Woodrow likes to have his back cracked (it's not a surprise with that posture, lol). When he needs to he would hold onto something while Phantom pulls his legs until it goes "crack!". As said, Woodrow's bones are weird so he can stretch without harm. It's while Phantom stretched him a little bit too far accidentally exposing his butt, that he found out Woodrow wears pumpkin printed underwear, lol.
Phantom is able to fix Woodrow's permanent cowlick. It takes more hair conditioner than Phantom uses (and he uses a lot of it), so it's only done for special occasions.
Phantom writes songs based on the poems that Woodrow reads him. Depending on how many words from the poem he uses in the song, when sung it can have more or less of the poem's effects.
Sometimes they start writing random things before they go to sleep. They often continue writing even while in bed until one of them fall asleep.
Phantom is a night owl and Woodrow an early bird. Phantom makes sure Woodrow falls asleep peacefully while cuddling him and he's usually the one that puts in order the things they used while writing. In the morning Woodrow will snuggle up on still asleep Phantom, combing his hair with his hand while waiting for him to wake up. He only has to make sure no rhyme leave his mouth as he already startled awake Phantom once making a framed picture fall on his head (don't worry Phantom has a very hard head, lol).
Phantom purrs very frequently and very loudly. Before Phantom, Woodrow has never been heard purr by anyone, not even Sweetlopek. He does indeed purr, but only when he's writing when he's very inspired and he does it very softly.
[These two are going to give me diabetes, I have to go punch a wall now AFHABJSWD]
#rabbid#rabbids#mario rabbids#mario + rabbids#mario+rabbids#sparks of hope#rabbid phantom#rabbid woodrow#tom phan#phantom of the bwahpera#phandrow#ask
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