I usually keep my fan art to myself but with this I'm hoping to find more people that absolutely love Hilda Spellman and Dr. Cerberus 👀✌ Man, I really can't get over these two!

Set after the season 3 finale so don’t read if you haven’t watched. 

It’s a little Hilberus conversation that we didn’t get to hear. I hope you enjoy reading it and if you have any prompts relating to Hilda (or any of Lucy Davis’ characters because I LOVE HER) please feel free to send them to me :) 

He was still awake when the knock came at 2am. It echoed through the dark depths of his shop, loud even from where he was sitting in the parlour. He would’ve ignored it usually, would’ve taken it to be wayward teens stalking the night in search of a little harmless chaos as they often did, if it weren’t for the frantic consistency of the knock itself. Someone really wanted to come in. 

He waited a moment, sure his own extremely recent trauma was laced with a hint of paranoia - Death wouldn’t knock to claim him, He’d come right in regardless of an invitation - before slowly rising from the couch with limbs still slightly stiff. He lifted a fist to his mouth as he breathed a deep yawn, exhausted as he was yet unable to sleep. The heat of his comforter had stifled him, panicked him and when his legs had gotten just slightly tangled in the cotton of his sheets it had felt like webs wrapping itself around his skin again. 

His fear was to be expected, he was sure, after everything that had happened, but still, it had unnerved him enough to leave his bedroom and begin the audit he’d been saving to do on Sunday. Anything to occupy his mind. 

Stepping into the low orange glow of his shop, he felt his heart beat a little harder at the faint sound of his name coming from outside, barely audible over the slowly building storm. Still, he knew instantly who the voice belonged to. The only person in the world he wanted to see right now. Ironic, really. 

He quickened his steps as she continued to call, “Dr Cee?” her knocks never ceasing. 

She was in his arms the moment he’d flipped the deadbolt and opened the door to her. 

“Thank Hell,” she breathed into his neck, clinging tightly to his shoulders and moving with him on her tiptoes as he kicked the door shut and wrapped his own arms around her waist. He hadn’t realised just how shaken he’d felt until this moment, how he’d been practically holding his breath but could inhale properly now that she was here. “I’m getting you all wet,” she sniffled after a moment, shifting as though to let him go but he kept his grip tight. 

“I don’t care.” He lifted a hand to cup the back of her head, throat constricting at the sheer amount of emotion bubbling through his body. “I don’t care.” 

____________________________________________

“Here we are, my love.” 

He took comfort in the warm ceramic she placed in his hands, steam rising from his tea in almost hypnotic tendrils, but more so when she lowered herself onto the sofa beside him, placing her own mug on the coffee table just beyond their knees. 

“I’ve popped a little bit of valerian root in there just to help quieten your mind,” she told him with a small smile, “it’s the very least I can do, all things considered.” 

“Don’t,” he replied without pause, eyes closing as his brow furrowed. “Please don’t do that.” 

Her eyes were glassy when he turned his head, opening his own eyes to look at her and his heart stuttered in his chest at the sight. 

“Hilda, please,” he turned only to place his mug beside hers on the table before shifting in his seat so that their knees were touching. Leaning forward, he took her small hands within his own and continued, “What happened wasn’t your fault.” 

“I shouldn’t have come here in the first place, though,” she insisted, “I-I shouldn’t have risked it. I could’ve killed you.” 

“But you didn’t.” 

“But I could ha-” 

“What did you do the moment you believed you’d hurt me?” 

She blinked, taken aback by the question, allowing him a moment to wipe away the tear rolling down her cheek before she stammered, “I- Well, I-, I-” 

“You called your sister and asked her to kill you.” It had pained him to hear such a thing when she’d told him back at the Spellman house once he’d fully de-webbed, his heart had ached at the very thought. “Despite not knowing if she could bring you back, you asked her to kill you out of fear of hurting anyone else.” And then, because he could see the doubt still clouding her dark eyes, he lifted a hand to brush a lock of golden hair from her face. “Wanting to be with the person who loves you with everything in him when you believe you’re about to die is not wrong, Hilda Spellman.” 

Still her lip quivered as her eyes fell to their joined hands, more tears falling as she worked on controlling her breathing. “Be that as it may,” her words were quiet, her fingers tightening around his as she continued, “I’ve scared you. I’ve put a fear in you that wasn’t there before.” 

“Hilda, I-” 

“You were trembling when I got here, love,” she sniffled, lifting her watery eyes once more to hold his own. “You were too terrified to sleep and it was because of me.” 

“No, sweet Hilda,” he shook his head with a sad chuckle, rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin of her hand, “It was because of Circe. And, remind me what happened to her?” 

Thankfully, that elicited something of a watery chuckle from Hilda as she rolled those lovely eyes and shrugged bashfully.