#chaos duck videos

[godfrey-the-chaos-duck]

@natakarania @onesidedradiostatic @convolutedblasphemy i had to do it

#the chaos duck has spoken #godfrey sings a song #chaos duck videos #hazbin hotel #other people's awesome art #Youtube

[toruandmidori]

Duck vs Cat vs Food

#funny #funny videos #videos #cats #cute cats #cat videos #ducks #birds #humor #lol #funny shit #chaos

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: September 10, 2010

Lyrics:

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo

Songwriter:

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo oo-oo oo-oo whooo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo oo-oo oo-oo whooo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo whooo-oo

Oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo whooo-oo

Oo-oo whooo-oo

Barbra Streisand

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Oo-oo who-oo-oo whooo-oo oo-oo

Juergen Huth / Frank Farian / Fred Jay / Heinz Huth / Alain Macklovitch / Armand Van Helden

SongFacts:

👉📖

#Youtube #Spotify #Duck Sauce #Barbra Streisand #hit of the day #music #music video #video of the day #youtube video #chaos radi o #good music #2010s #2010s charts #2010s music #2010 #electronic #dance electronic #nu disco #house #disco #lyrics #songfacts #289

[keypaa]

Astrology Observations No.4

<3 TW

I use the whole sign system

Mars-Saturn hard aspects struggle with sexual encounters at first and have a poor relationship with intimicy.They may loose their virginity later than others and that‘s good yk never loose sahahah

Mars in leo/degrees can be known for their drive (that one girl in my class is super intelligent and everyone knows that) Since leo rules fame it makes more than sence✮⋆˙

Moon in cancer (if developed) can talk about that they just cried over an quite little duck running around without being ashamed of pointing out their own vulnerability (ma sweethearts) That is because cancers ruler is moon

Venus in aquarius always have something to do with animes and they live for video games and their friends. Nevertheless you can be their partner but sometimes they put their friends first 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

Mercury in taurus thinkkkk before they talk, might talk slow and come of as seriøs

Wait jupiter in 3rd house just get a lot of money from family members $♡

Venus in 11th house post their favorite things online ( your pets, your playlists…) 💋

4th house in aries: your home environment is wild, full of chaos and passion at the same time ✮⋆˙

Saturn-Pluto: The relationship to your father changed or transformed you. Some people with this placement are not in contact with their father anymore or just see him once in a while

Moon-Jupiter individuals get lucky if they show their emotions (others try to emphasize with them or they get help) also depends on other aspects ☼

Trust me libra mercury knows how to charm others or themselfes out of uncomfy situations with their words

Mercury in aries try to help you through telling you the solution to your problem (you might get mad but they just wanna help) lovely cookies of mine

Lilith-Mc no one believes that you are innocent. Oh you are a virgin,they will assume you have stds because apperently they assume that you fucked around the town and bānged your friend friends their exes and boyfriends/girlfirends plus their grandfather-mothers

Uranus-Venus positive =tip try to work if problems in relationships accure

How Uranus-Venus hard aspects behave= They may jump to the next person and think that working on relationships are not worth it if you have serious problems or if they don‘t see growth quickly. But that doesn't mean that they will leave you just that they do not have time for bullshit

Venus in pisces need a lot of time to recover if they get hurt but they will die for you

Sag moon have the opinion that getting distracted is good (especially with friends,loved ones). These folks don't believe in telling you their feelings that much

Specific but scorpio pluto in leo degree are known for their dark deep feelings and pain

Jupiter in libra generation loves money, some more others less ˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗

Please listen Mercury-Asc people in combinition with Venus tense aspect with Mars, you are not ugly people always talked about your appearence and that makes you always think about how you look. Mercury=thoughts,Asc=Appearence. TW! Body dismorphia can be the case, if so I hug you and advice you to get help¡

Why do aries individuals often have some type of allergy it isn't normal anymore hahaha

TW! Most borderliners have intense aspected moons or gemini, leo or aries moons. Gemini moons have a maze of mind and will overthink everything and then turn into an empty minded person in one split second (typical for BPD), leo moons suffer from people pleasing and having a high opinion of themselfes turn into low low self esteem issues, and them aries moons show their emotions impulsifly or act on them impulsifly. I am not a professional but I am here to make you aware, I observed it in soo many charts, you know best if you show signs! It is more than important to get help :)

Neptune-Asc everyone seems to guess your age differently

Let me know if you would like to have a more dark astro observation next time

Luuuuuv muah

03:02 PM

555

© 2023 the content is subject to the copyright and responsibility of the author

#astrology observations #astro obs #astrology obs #leo moon #gemini moon #aries moon #hot takes #mars aspects #neptune aspects #pick a card #4th house #mercury in taurus #Saturn-pluto aspect #18+ astrology #18+ astrology observations #astro notes #astrovations #dark astrology

[b3crew]

REVIEW | "Phantom Breaker: Omnia" | B3 - Boston Bastard Brigade

The history of Phantom Breaker in the West is a strange one. Up until this year, the only title in 5pb.’s franchise that’s made it over here has been its side-scrolling spinoff Battle Grounds. However, its original fighting incarnations — on top of the visual novels they spawned from — have never come to our shores. Now that Rocket Panda Games has exclusive rights to the IP, we may in due time see more of this formerly Japan-exclusive fighter pop up on our PCs and consoles. And we can all thank the latest game in the series — Phantom Breaker: Omnia — for finally letting all of this happen.

A massive update to the original Xbox 360 title, Phantom Breaker: Omnia brings 20 characters to the stage to battle for the ultimate wish. On top of having the likes of Steins;Gate’s Kurisu Makise and Chaos;HEAd’s Riki Sakihata returning, two new fighters Artifactor and Maestra are also in the running to have their dream granted by the mysterious Phantom. From Ren wanting to cure his sick sister to Mikoto wanting to restore her uncle’s hearing, every person here has a reason to fight. Of course, every big wish has its price, which is why the likes of Fin and Waka aim to stop Phantom from achieving his own goals.

Phantom Breaker: Omnia gives players a chance to use their characters three different ways. With Quick Style, one can use Slip Shifts to avoid attacks and Clock Up to slow down their opponents. Hard Style emphasizes heavy combos, although lowers a character’s speed. If you want a bit of both, Omnia Style is where it’s at, with easier combos and All-Range Attacks for the price of a couple of modes being negated.

Whichever mode you choose depends on one’s comfort level. What makes this game great is the fact that it was built to satisfy any fighting game lover, be it the ones who like to move fast or the ones itching to get harder attacks thrown. However you find yourself playing fighting games, Phantom Breaker: Omnia will cater to your skills. And skills are something that you will definitely need once the fights begin!

Click here to read the rest of the review!

#king baby duck #review #reviews #video games #fighting games #ps4 #ps5 #xbox one #xbox series x #xbox 360 #nintendo switch #pc #steam #rocket panda games #5pb #mages #phantom breaker #phantom breaker: omnia #Steins;Gate #Chaos;HEAd #boston bastard brigade #black compat

[theemporium]

[1.4k] in which a silly little prank sends quinn spiralling that he's the worst boyfriend of the year (based of a commented suggestion left by @huggybear13).

series masterlist

.

When you and Luke were kids, it was a reoccurring habit for Jack and Quinn to push you to the side. Not necessarily in a mean way, but in that classic sense that older kids always felt like they had a superiority, an understanding in stupid games that you two were just unable to grasp. 

It took one particularly annoyed seven year old Luke to start the tradition—for both of you to prank his older brothers. 

When you were young, it was stupid things that would cause them to huff and pout and run off to Ellen. Those kinds of pranks that would make the two of you snicker and giggle as you hid under his bed like that would protect you from everything and anything. 

As you got older, the pranks got a little more sly and convoluted. They became more impressive, the pranks you and Luke were pulling were more thought out and it was just another one of those things that bonded you two closer. 

The pranks eased up when the boys started going off to college and going pro. It never truly stopped, especially not when you spent the summer at the lakehouse all together again. But they weren’t as constant and not really as annoying as they were when you and Luke were young. 

But it was in your blood. It was like a part of you both urged you to mess with Jack and Quinn a little, like it was your life’s purpose. 

And maybe that wasn’t something that entirely stopped when you started dating Quinn too. 

Most of them were harmless and usually got him to crack a smile, finding the pranks more endearing than irritating like he did when he was younger. And after knowing you so much better than he did when you were kids, it was easy for Quinn to spot the signs, like that smile on your face that promised chaos and mischief before you pulled one of your attempts. 

That was exactly why it made you so much more determined to pull one over on him—this time your inspiration being a flurry of videos you had whilst scrolling through your phone.

It started that morning when you were sitting at the kitchen counter, eating your breakfast whilst Quinn rushed around the apartment to collect his things before heading off to morning skate. Truthfully, he was so wrapped up in not being late that he didn’t have time to question the way you swiped your mouth against the back of your hand after he kissed you.

It wasn’t until a few hours later when he came back from practice when he noticed, huddled in the kitchen making some lunch for the two of you when you came in. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You teased as you walked towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and peaking over his shoulder to see what he was making.

“Thought I’d make you something while you were studying,” he said with a small grin as he turned his head to look at you. He ducked down, pressing his lips against yours in a soft peck (his first one since he left earlier that day). 

“Thank you, baby,” you grinned at him before raising your hand, wiping the back of your palm over your lips again. 

Quinn paused, frowning a little at the movement. “You good?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, looking at him as if he was the one acting weird. “How can I help? If I look at any more cell biology, I’ll hit my head against a wall.” 

Quinn laughed, but it was still a bit strained. “Chop the onions for me?”

“You got it, chef.”

But just when Quinn assumed he was losing his mind and hallucinating the whole thing, you had wiped your mouth again when he kissed you after placing your plate down in front of you. And you did it again when he kissed you before you headed back to the small office in the apartment to study. And you did it again when he kissed you after bringing you a snack and some water. 

He would be fucking lying if he said a part of his stomach didn’t twist bitterly every time you did it. 

He spent the rest of the day trying to wrack his head around the whole thing. He didn’t get it. You never used to do this before. Not even when you were really fucking pissed at him. You would have especially never done it so blatantly in front of him. 

Which, to Quinn’s spiralling thoughts, only meant one thing—he fucked up and forgot something big, and you were pretending you were okay. 

It was embarrassing how quickly he grabbed his phone, frowning at his calendar like it would have all the answers he needed. It wasn’t your birthday. It wasn’t your anniversary. Hell, it just seemed like an average day and that made his stomach drop ever more, because how could he forget an important day with you?

He didn’t even think twice before grabbing his keys, determined to try and salvage the day even if he wasn’t entirely sure what day he was saving in the first place. 

It was around an hour later when you heard someone softly swearing, frowning as you got up from the desk and began making your way towards the living area. However, you came to a stop when you saw the room completely decorated. 

There were colourful banners stuck to the wall, balloons covering the floor and ceiling with ‘I love you’ written all over them, and even a fucking cake sitting on the table. Quinn hadn’t even noticed you yet, frowning down at the pack of tealight candles he was struggling to open.

“Quinn?” 

His head snapped up comically fast, his eyes widening like he wasn’t expecting you to leave the office so soon before a sheepish expression washed over his face. “Surprise?”

You let out a short laugh, a little disbelieving as you took everything in. “Surprise for what? What’s going on? What’s with the decorations?”

He looked at you with a cautious expression, almost like he was waiting for you to blow up at him. It only made you frown, brows furrowed together at his sudden shift.

“Quinn?”

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out before he had the chance to come up with some semblance of a thought out response. “I…I forgot what today was and I know you’re pissed, but I promise to make up for it—”

“Quinn,” you started, taking a step towards him. “What are you going on about? I’m not mad.”

He frowned. “But you’re doing the thing!”

You blinked. “What thing?”

“You keep…wiping my kisses away!” He said before wincing, as though he realised how whiny he sounded.

You paused before your expression softened, your lips twitching upwards when you realised just how quickly the boy spiralled. You were expecting Quinn to call you out on the kisses, expecting him to corner you until you finally broke and laughed about the whole thing. You never expected him to do anything like this.

“Baby,” you murmured before crossing the room, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “It was a prank.”

Quinn blinked. “What?”

“It was a prank, to just wind you up a bit,” you admitted with a sheepish expression. “You didn’t miss anything and I’m not pissed at you.”

It was like those words alone let his body finally sag in relief. “You’re not?”

“Not at all,” you assured him with a smile.

“And if I kiss you now, you won’t wipe it away?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “Promise—”

But you barely had a chance to finish speaking before his hands were cupping your face and he smashed his lips against yours. You let out a small whine, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt in tight fists as his tongue darted against your bottom lip, practically begging for you to give him more and you happily did. 

He didn’t pull away until you were both panting, lungs burning for fresh air and cheeks flushed at how warm you both were.

“At least we have cake for dessert today,” he murmured after a few moments, grinning back at you when you let out a loud laugh in response. 

“All thanks to you,” you teased, though your arms tightened around his waist.

“More like, all thanks to those pranks of yours,” he muttered, acting like he was annoyed even though a huge grin was plastered on his face as he leaned down to kiss you again.

.

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

[ilovelovewithallmyheart]

Your clan of jujutsu sorcerors weren’t in the top three, but they weren’t far behind. They were in the top four.

In prestigious jujutsu clans, the matter of carrying the bloodline was of great importance. Your older sister, powerful, beautiful and amazingly kind was constantly getting marriage proposals left and right.

It was the night of a great banquet celebrating your older sisters 30th birthday. She was already running 40 minutes late…

Suddenly the lights dimmed and the projector started lowering itself out of nowhere. A video flashed into life-

“Hey guys. You must be wondering where I am right now. As you are watching this, I will be on a one way trip to America.”

Your older sister sat in front of the camera, confessional youtube video style.

Loud gasps resounded across the hall. You felt your stomach churn, the dinner you had earlier threatening to make a reappearance. 

“Don’t bother looking for me.”

She crossed her arms. “I decided to leave for the better. After all, It was hard on me and my wife to live so far apart from eachother.”

An outrage spread all around you. “What is the meaning of this?” Your father roared.

You had no idea when your sister got married. But go her.

“To my younger sister…goodbye and good luck.”

The video dimmed, leaving the dinner hall in darkness and utter chaos.

Good luck? What could she mean by that-

It suddenly dawned on you. 

Without your older sister, you were now the first candidate for marriage.

**

“You are seriously strange if you think for one moment that I’ll agree to marry Zenin Naoya. He literally handed me a terms and conditions folder of everything I can and can’t do if we get married!” Arguing with your father felt like arguing with a brick wall. 

“He is in line to be the next head of-“ A knock on the door stopped your father from another one of his rants. You sighed in relief. “Don’t allow in any late comers. Meeting time ended two minutes ago.” Your father ordered.

For the past six, that’s right, six hours of the day, you and your father met with suitors who were asking you for your hand in marriage. 

The guard at the door looked increasingly nauseous. “Sir-“

The door suddenly blasted open, splinters of wood flying everywhere. Your father ducked and you felt existensial dread. You knew who was behind that door.

“My dear, sorry I’m late.” Casually stepping around the carnage as if it was nothing, Gojo Satoru sauntered in with all his 6’3 might. 

You felt a migraine coming in.

Ever since the first year of highschool, Gojo Satoru had been hopelessly besotted with you. He’s asked for your hand in marriage four different times. With four. Different. Rings.

“What is this Gojo.” You stared blankly at the ROCK sitting on a thick band of gold. You and Gojo just finished up a mission together, and, covered in a curse’s guts, he dropped to one knee and brought out a ring. “You declined the last three times so I figured you wanted a bigger diamond.”

That same man was now standing around your ruined meeting room with a sheepish smile on his face. “I-I actually didn’t get you a ring this time.” He had the audacity to look shy. “I hope you forgive me…”

“You don’t need to get me a diamond abomination to propose. I’ll reject you, ring or no ring.” You replied with a lethal smile. “Why are you here Satoru.” You wanted this man out. 

“Why else would I be here? I’m asking if I can be your husband.” His face wasn’t playful anymore. He was dead serious.

You were about to reject him for the fifth time, but then your eyes landed on Naoya’s thick terms and conditions booklet, then you remembered the multitude of old, decaying men that were basically salivating while looking at you, and sighed.

“Fine.”

“YES. There’ll be donkeys and-“

“We’re having a small wedding ceremony.”

He frowned. Obviously, he had planned out the entire wedding ceremony out meticulously, donkeys and all.

“We can work on it.” 

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo oneshot

[blue-jisungs]

Sure thats fine take as long as you need 🫶 but heres my request anyways 💕:

“Enhypen to their s/o having an innocent puppy like personality“

s/o with a puppy-like personality ♡

a/n. i think i accidentally deleted the previous one bc there were two LMAO but! sorry for the long wait, i hope u enjoy it ^^ i know i got a lil lazy with it but i didn’t really have an idea how to execute it :(

also hehe my friend just got a puppy so i got a first hand writing research material ☝️

heeseung, sunoo, jay

grumpy / sunshine duo. or the black cat-golden retriever dynamics. in public he’s watching you, people get chills from his stares while you’re rambling about how cute the little duck from marzipan on top of a cupcake looks. your personal guard too. you can literally drag him around and he won’t complain. in private tho, he’s all cuddly <3 like those videos of puppies and cats getting along, it’s like that. he could never get tired of you. sometimes he has his outbursts of energy and it’s chaotic!!

jake, jungwon, riki

chaos. you two are like two hyper active puppies. hyping each other up and jumping up n down, ignoring people’s stares. it’s never boring (or quiet) when you two are around. sometimes one look is all it takes to get you two giggly for no reason. your dates r never boring!! when you get tired, you crash on the couch and snore, the rest of bandmates enjoying the unusual silence. oh, not to mention how mischievous you two can get ^_^

sunghoon

he’s both LMAO when he’s in his introverted mood, he’ll me the black cat™️. esp when zoning out. people think he’s staring at them but in reality he’s either zoning out or admiring you doing something. at home / during his loud introvert / or when he has his peak energy moment, it’s hard to tell who’s the real puppy. there’s giggles without end, laughs and chuckles all the time (his fangs poking out in wide smiles). running around and doing mischievous stuff like two silly pups >_<

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang,, @nfrgirl ,, @crxzs

#blue jisungs's requests #enha #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #enha x reader #enha imagines #jungwon #heesung #jay #jake #sunghoon #riki #sunoo #enha scenarios #enha reactions #enha x y/n #enha x you #enha soft hours #enhypen

[godfrey-the-chaos-duck]

I PRESENT...

"Loser, Baby" but it's Aziraphale and Crowley after the Book Of Job minisode

#the chaos duck has spoken #good omens #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #hazbin hotel #godfrey sings a song #chaos duck videos #Youtube

[zepskies]

In the Dark

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

AN: Another story for the BMD-verse! This was requested by @sl33pylilbunny. It’s set in the six-month time gap after Part 17 and before the Epilogue of Break Me Down.

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, traumatic memories, hurt/comfort and feels.

Read more of the BMD-verse: ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

The building was falling apart.

You couldn’t remember why, but you were deep in a labyrinth. The only way out was further down, into what felt like an immense basement, wading through debris and pieces of the ceiling threatening to crush you at every turn.

You hadn’t stopped running and your lungs were on fire. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears. You had an iron grip on your friend’s wrist, so you wouldn’t lose her or her son in the chaos.

“Keep going,” you told them. “We’re getting out.”

A hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving forward.

And three shots rang out. You ducked and took your friend down with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

You woke with a sharp inhale.

Your eyes blinked wide and bleary in a pitch black room. You couldn’t see, but you could still hear your wild heartbeat echoing between your ears.

The more you blinked, the more your eyes adjusted. You could make out the familiarity of your bedroom. While you tried to calm your breathing, you turned onto your side, slowly.

You found Ben, asleep.

His mouth was parted as he breathed. His hair had fallen over his brows in sleep. You almost smiled…but you weren’t quite able to.

You carefully brushed the stray locks away from his forehead. Then you slid out of bed so you wouldn’t disturb him.

This had become your habit over the past couple of weeks since moving into this new apartment. You loved it, but it was hard for you to stay comfortable at night.

Though I don’t think that’s the apartment’s fault, you thought wryly. No, it was just your fucked mental health.

Shaking your head at yourself, you went down to the kitchen and made yourself some chamomile tea. That was Step 1.

Step 2 was sitting on the couch with your laptop and your headphones. You kept yourself up with YouTube videos and answering work emails. By now, they knew not to ask why you were sending them at three in the morning.

This time, however, you made a mistake.

Instead of going back to bed and lying awake for another hour until your alarm went off…you fell asleep on the couch.

You must’ve been more exhausted than you thought.

The next time you woke, it was to the odd sensation of floating. Or rather, being carried. You blinked up at Ben, whose brows were already furrowed.

“Hey,” you said, a bit sheepishly.

He didn’t answer you, nor did he set you down until he’d walked you back into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. It was still dark in the room, which meant you couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or so.

Ben slipped back into bed, and you turned toward him under the covers.

You felt bad about waking him up. He had his own bouts of insomnia, but it had been starting to get better, ever since you two moved in together permanently a couple of months ago.

You scooted closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder when he shifted onto his back. His arm came down around your waist, a comfortable weight that made you feel more secure.

“When was the last time you slept through the night?” he asked.

You breathed in deeply…and you let it out.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

He paused for a moment. Then he hummed in understanding. His hand moved slowly up and down your back.

You closed your eyes, but he still fell back asleep before you did.

Both of you had to work in the morning. Ben watched you out of the corner of his eye as you got ready for the day.

He’d been waiting for you to come to him with whatever was on your mind, but you were keeping it to yourself. He didn’t push you. You were smart, and whatever you needed to work out, he would let you deal with it your way, as you so often did.

It didn’t seem to affect how you did your job. At Supe Affairs, no one was the wiser. They didn’t know about the concealer covering the bags under your eyes, or that you were adding a couple shots of espresso to your usual latte every morning.

No, the fun came long after your day was done. After you had showered and dressed for bed, with a silent undercurrent of anxiety hovering in the back of your mind.

Another night, another pain in your ass.

You kept your eyes open for as long as you could, but at 2:00 a.m., you couldn’t take it anymore.

The darkness claimed you.

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon, your father, had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity. 

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground. 

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket. 

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying. 

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight. 

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours. 

Your eyes wrenched open when a hand gripped your throat.

It was Black Noir, brandishing a katana between your eyes.

“…ake up.”

Words that just barely registered as you sucked in shallow breaths.

A solid pair of arms were caging you, and you instinctively fought the hold, uttering a whimper.

“Hey,” he said firmly. “It’s me.”

You gasped and finally found Ben’s face in the dark of the room. You heaved for breath as you stared up at him.

Despite your relief, tears brimmed in your eyes. Your grip tightened on his arms as your lips trembled. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sob.

Ben slid onto his side instead of looming above you. He guided you more securely into his arms, and you let yourself rest against his chest. You buried your face there and wept.

His fingers sorted through your hair as he tried to calm you.

“I’ve got you,” he rumbled. 

Your body was exhausted. Your chest was filled with anxiety, the remnants of fear, and frustration at yourself, that you couldn’t just get over this.

But you felt his lips at the crown of your head. The sound of his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek drowned out the sound of your rapid one, and it served to steady you too. Your hand splayed against his chest, connecting you with his warm skin.

You began to calm in his arms.

“I see my father die every night,” you whispered.

Finally, you admitted the things you hadn’t been able to for weeks.

“Black Noir, Vought crumbling, trying to find you,” you said, even though your voice was shaking. “Everything, all over again…except I never make it out.”

Ben let out a deep sigh. He nodded, his lips still brushing against your forehead.

“It’s just a dream,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

He could concede to that. He didn’t know what else to say to you though. All he could think to do was hold you a bit tighter.

“It’ll fade,” he said eventually. “Give it time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. A few tears fell through, but he brushed those away from your cheek.

When you were able to look up at him again, you asked him, “Has it all faded for you?”

Part of you already knew what he might say. As a result, you expected the way he hesitated.

“You know the answer to that,” he said. His fingers continued to sift through your hair, and you breathed easier at the pleasant sensation.

“They’re like battle wounds,” he continued. “They’ll just become scars.”

That wasn’t anything new for you, he knew. You’d had scars long before he met you.

You seemed to let his words sink in though. You nodded and pressed a kiss to his chest; a wordless thank you.

“Close your eyes,” he said, low and steady.

You hesitated, but you did as he said. You closed your eyes.

And when your breathing gentled into the deep calm of sleep, Ben allowed himself to try and do the same.

AN: And there we have it. Short and angsty lol. But I can't write angst without a little hurt/comfort. 💚💚

I hope you liked this!

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[piratekane]

one month.

It’s Ava who insists on a dinner schedule, citing the need for sharing responsibilities evenly. Beatrice is fine cooking. She finds the rote motion of the knife relaxing, the way the blade rocks back and forth as it dices onions and chops carrots. It gives her a way to clear her mind after a particularly grueling day of classes.

After a month of Beatrice cooking and a few nights where Ava convinces her to try new restaurants, ones she wouldn’t usually explore, Ava comes home from class and declares that Beatrice needs to teach her how to cook.

She would be annoyed that she’s being interrupted in the middle of watching a supplementary video on Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons, but the movie itself was problematic. That and Ava has on a top with a polar bear wearing a pair of star sunglasses that she’s cut the bottom off of, so she gets distracted just long enough for Ava to capitalize on her silence.

“Think about it. You teach me to cook, I make us delicious foods.” Ava beams. “Win-win situation, right?”

Beatrice swallows, then frowns. “You don’t know how to cook?”

Ava drops her backpack down near the door, half in front of it so that if they needed to exit in case of an emergency, Beatrice would trip over the bag. She thinks about telling her to fix it. But Ava is already moving on, dropping her shoes just far enough from the shoe rack that they’re a nuisance if she tries to vacuum. Beatrice can’t find it in herself to be annoyed by either of these things.

It’s unchecked chaos in the world of order she’s created for herself, but Beatrice finds that her care for it is relaxing slightly. She still empties the sink at the end of the night, still adjusts the blankets on the couch after Ava has wandered off sleepily to bed, still piles up the recycling to take down in the next morning. She just also finds herself letting a pillow stay out of place overnight, or letting her coat drape over the back of the couch for a few hours before she hangs it up.

Ava doesn’t round the couch all the way before she’s dropping onto the cushion, using the arm of it as a slide down. Beatrice watches the way her legs and arms twist into complicated shapes before she finds a position she likes. Her shirt rides up just slightly. Beatrice’s finger skips on the play button and the video comes back to life before she pauses it again.

“I mean, no,” Ava admits. “There weren't a lot of opportunities for me to try.”

Right, Beatrice thinks. Ava had to fend for herself in ways that were different from Beatrice. 

“I think I could be really good. I have a good palette.”

Beatrice falters for a second. Last week, Ava thought mixing sugared marshmallow ducks and soda was a good idea. The thought of it made Beatrice’s stomach turn.

Ava must see her hesitation. “Okay, I could be good at it with a good teacher. And I think you’d be a great one.”

Beatrice feels herself blush. “I doubt it.”

Ava is already shaking her head like she knows what Beatrice was going to say. “No, I think you would be. You’re patient - more patient with me than anyone I’ve ever met, and I know I’m frustrating.” There’s a slight self-deprecating smile on her face that Beatrice wants to wipe away. “If anyone is going to be able to tolerate the thousand questions I have, it’s you.”

There’s something about knowing what Ava thinks about her that makes Beatrice feel like she’s doing something right. That makes her feel warm in a way she’s never felt before. It’s curious how quickly this feeling has rushed over her and taken up every corner of space in her mind. She can’t put words to it, her vocabulary suddenly shrinking in the face of Ava’s smile.

“I suppose…” she starts slowly.

Ava’s smile is quicker. “Yes!” She sits forward, elbows digging into her jean-clad knees. “Where do we start? Beef Bourguignon? Coq au Vin? Lobster Thermidor? Ratatouille? I really liked that movie.”

Beatrice shakes her head, her smile soft. “No. I don’t think I could even make most of that. Why don’t we start with something simple?”

Ava looks slightly let down, but shrugs off whatever conversation she’s having in her head. “Fine. We’ll work up to the Julia Child recipes.”

“How kind of you.”

“How about we make your favorite food instead?” Ava stands up and makes the slow walk across the apartment to where Beatrice is sitting, her laptop and notebook taking up most of the counter. Ava sinks into the seat next to her, her knee nearly touching Beatrice’s outer thigh. She drops her chin into her hand, propped up in the empty space. “What is it?”

Beatrice blinks. “My favorite food?”

Ava picks up her pen and idly doodles on an envelope she unearths from the small pile of mail Beatrice has been stacking up. Bills to pay. Beatrice watches her sketch out a flower with a wide stalk. “Yeah, your favorite food. We can do that.”

Her favorite food. She pauses a moment. What is her favorite food? What is the one thing she would pick every time?

The first thing that comes to mind is Marie, one of her family’s personal chefs. Beatrice can picture her in their large, sterile kitchen, a chef’s coat with her name stitched on the breast. She hadn’t minded Beatrice being in the kitchen like Tilda had, hadn’t chased her out like Jaques. She had poured Beatrice a cup of tea and asked about her day. It was a reprieve from the long silences that filled every other space in the house.

Beatrice had learned the difference between onions and shallots sitting on that kitchen table. She had tested the weight of different knives, something she was sure no other ten-year-old had ever done. Marie talked to her about the balance of salt and heat and acid. She let Beatrice peel potatoes, scrub carrots, prune the first layer of leaves on brussel sprouts. She taught Beatrice how to make her first knife cut and the importance of even dicing.

Beatrice carried those skills with her long after Marie was dismissed by her family. At twelve, it had felt like the end of the world. Her replacement, a brusque Russian man named Turov, hadn’t cared much for her presence and Beatrice didn’t care much for his okroshka. She stayed out of the kitchen after that.

Ava waits for an answer patiently - always patient, even as Beatrice stretches out silences as she struggles to find words no one has ever asked her for before now.

Beatrice thinks of Marie, thinks of sizzling pans and layered sauces and opens her mouth.

“Stir-fry.”

“Stir-fry,” Ava echoes. “You haven’t made that before.”

No, she supposes she hasn’t. “My family’s chef-” She stops herself. Ava doesn’t want to know her complicated history with her family’s chefs. 

But Ava nods encouragingly.

Beatrice takes a breath. “My family’s chef when I was younger. Her name was Marie. She taught me how to make stir-fry. Of course, she didn’t serve it to my parents. It was a meal for us.” She smiles a little, thinking about the way Marie would plate the dish for her - just like it was a five-star restaurant. “But I loved it.”

Ava's hand flutters in the air like she might reach out and touch Beatrice’s. Her stomach tightens at the thought. But then Ava merely pulls it into her lap and smiles.

“Do we need to go grocery shopping?”

“We’re doing this now?”

Ava looks at the clock on the microwave. “I’m starving.”

Beatrice can’t help but laugh. “It’s mid-afternoon.”

“Can’t we have a snack? I had a long day.”

She laughs again. “Ava, you had one class today.”

Ava pushes out her bottom lip miserably. “But it was with Soro and he’s a tyrant.”

Beatrice is already starting to stack her things into neat piles. “He teaches world literature. He’s hardly a tyrant.”

“He’s, like, a low-key tyrant. Not as bad as Sumbal, last semester. But still up there.” Ava hands Beatrice a highlighter.

“I never had Sumbal.”

Ava groans. “You’re lucky. He once took points off because I cited something from this century as a reference.” She passes Beatrice a stack of sticky notes and Beatrice takes them, tucking them carefully into her pencil pouch for later. “The point is, Soro was boring, I’m hungry, and you need a break from studying.”

Beatrice can’t help but be amused. Ava exaggerates, but in a way that she doesn’t find annoying. Just in simple ways. And usually to get what she wants. Beatrice finds, no matter how short of a time they’ve known each other, she wants to give what Ava is asking for. But then she’s never had a best friend like Ava before, someone who always seems to know her limits and stops just short of them, who only ever asks what she’s willing to give. 

And besides, she’s right; it is an important life skill.

So Bea puts away her study materials, despite only being an hour into a self-imposed two hour session. She’s already mentally calculating what they have in their refrigerator.

“We have things here, I think. Stir-fry is versatile. You can make it out of most anything.” Beatrice stacks her things against the wall, over the mail. “We should have some staples.”

“Do we have baby corn?” Ava asks hopefully. “They’re funny-looking.”

Beatrice opens one of the cabinets where they keep canned items. She pulls down one of them. “Baby corn.” She has to shuffle a few more around, until she finds the sliced water chestnuts too.

Ava jumps off her seat, pulling open the refrigerator. “What do we need from here?”

She focuses on finding the things she needs for the sauce. “Check the vegetable drawer. Pick whatever you’d like.”

While she collects the soy sauce, Shaoxing wine, oyster sauce and sesame oil, she listens to Ava hum something she doesn’t recognize. She likes the way it fills the silence - not that it’s an awkward one, the way it was with Gina. Speaking with Gina had always felt like a chore, and Beatrice did it the way she did all her chores: efficiently and with relief when it was over. Silence with Ava feels nice. Comforting, even. Knowing she doesn’t always have to be on in order to be interesting is relieving and addicting.

The vegetable drawer must have had more in it than Beatrice thought. Ava has onions, carrots, a bell pepper, broccoli, and sugar peas stacked on the counter. She grins at Beatrice.

“This enough?”

“More than.” She starts taking down bowls and pulls a wok out from the bottom shelf. Ava already has a cutting board out by the time she stands up. “Protein?”

Ava opens the refrigerator again. “Does chicken work?”

She was saving the chicken for baked chicken tonight, but that’s fine. She busies herself with opening the knife drawer and looking at the two chef’s knives she has. She wants a sharp blade, any chef’s best tool.

Beatrice carefully places the knife on the edge of the cutting board, blade angled away from Ava. It’s not that she doesn’t want to teach Ava; it’s just that last night Ava dropped a slice of bread from her hand and she tried to catch it with her foot. It’s just that a butter knife fell off the counter three days ago and Ava caught the blade in her hand.

Ava is, in a word, clumsy. 

In two words, she’s charmingly clumsy.

Ava seems to read her mind. She stills her whole body - Beatrice hardly noticed the way she was vibrating with excitement, so used to Ava’s normal state - and takes a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

“Have you handled a chef’s knife?”

“Nope.” Ava pops the p. “But I’m a quick learner.”

She is. She mastered rock climbing almost before anyone else. And she catalogs everything Beatrice tells her with lightning speed, repeating it back to her days later. But facts on religious artifacts can’t send you to the hospital. 

Rock climbing can, she reminds herself. And Ava did that okay.

“Fine.” Beatrice starts to roll up her sleeves. “First things first. Wash your-”

“Hands,” Ava finishes. She’s already turning on the water. “Happy birthday to you,” she sings quietly under her breath as she scrubs. When she finishes a second round of it, she smiles brightly as she turns to face Beatrice. “Next?”

Beatrice hands her a mixing bowl. “We’re going to make our sauce.”

She walks Ava through combining the different ingredients, hiding a wince when she adds a little too much soy sauce and correcting it by giving her a touch more sugar to mix in. Ava’s forearm muscles flex as she whisks the sauces together in sharp, quick, circular motions. Beatrice watches the way she moves. She is a quick learner, her hands adjusting to grip the bowl and wrapping around the whisk.

There’s something about Ava’s hands that Beatrice can never look away from. They move almost restlessly, always reaching out to touch something, to feel different things under the pads of her fingertips. She knows what Ava has told her. About the years where people touched her and she remained unable to do the same. She seems to be making up for lost time, Beatrice thinks. Ava’s always running her hands over the pillows on the couch, running her fingers around the handles of coffee mugs, twirling pens between her knuckles.

She’s always reaching and feeling and one day, Beatrice was struck with the strangest thought: what might happen if Ava reached out to touch her?

The thought had put a pause on the world. It was something she had never thought about before. Her friends touched her. Camila loved hugs hello and goodbye. Shannon always brushed a hand against her shoulder. Mary was known to give her an affectionate pat on the head every once in a while. Even Lilith, despite the look on her face whenever anyone seemed to get within five inches of her, was known to give a hug or two under dire circumstances. 

But Beatrice went so long without any kind of physical interaction that she had to learn what it felt like to have someone’s arms on her shoulders, someone’s arms around her body. She had to learn to be comfortable with the bottom of Camila’s feet pressed to her thigh during movie nights. She had to learn to be comfortable with Lilith falling asleep on her shoulder during all-nighters.

She had to spend all her time learning to accept physical affection that she never quite put a lot of thought into giving it. 

But watching Ava give it so freely - returning Camila’s hugs, knocking shoulders with Shannon and elbows with Mary, and the one time she pulled Lilith into a hug with the sole intention of, Ava’s words, unsettling her - Beatrice wondered what it might be like to give the same way.

And Ava. She wondered what it might be like to give it to Ava.

Ava didn’t touch her as easily as she seemed to touch everyone else. She reached out and always seemed to stop herself. Beatrice wondered what that meant. Did Ava not want to touch her? Was there something wrong with her? Did Ava see the same things in her that her parents saw? It’s a small voice, a whisper, but whispers always seem loud in empty corners of rooms.

The rooms aren’t as empty now, aren’t as quiet. Whispers aren’t as loud any more. Ava seems to fill the spaces more easily than Beatrice ever did. 

And so she tries to make herself be someone Ava might want to reach out to.

Ava puts down the bowl with a smile. “Sauce, mixed.”

Beatrice nods towards the cutting board. “Then the vegetables.”

Ava frowns. “Not the chicken?”

“Protein last, unless you plan on using multiple cutting boards. And since you used our second one for your chemistry class experiment-”

Ava winces. “Yeah. I’m going to replace that,” she says, just like she said last week and the week before that one. She smiles again. “So, protein last. Vegetables first.” She picks up the carrots and reaches for the knife.

Beatrice stops her, a hand hovering out in front of her. “There’s knife safety we need to talk about.”

She thinks for a moment that Ava will be annoyed with her. Knife safety doesn’t have an adventurous ring to it. It sounds boring, technical. But Marie taught her the importance of knowing a tool and the dangers it carries.

Ava pulls her hand back, clasping them gently in front of her. She smiles patiently. “Go ahead.”

Beatrice blinks back her surprise. “Oh. Okay.” She clears her throat. “The first rule of knives is that they can cause serious injury if not used properly. Knives should be kept sharp enough to cut through a piece of paper - they’ll cut through your skin just as easily.” She scales it back a little bit, dulling the tone in her voice but Ava’s smile hasn’t flickered. “We’re always going to cut away from ourselves, not towards.”

“Do I need to write this down?” Ava looks serious, like she’s taking in every word Beatrice says.

“No. No, I’ll remind you as we go.”

Relief uncoils Ava’s shoulders. “Good. I was worried there was going to be a test, or something.” She says it without malice, like a joke that Beatrice is in on.

Beatrice smiles a little before she remembers one of the most important parts of knife safety. “Never, never catch a falling knife. Not with your hand or with your foot. We can clean a knife off. We cannot put stitches in your hand or your foot.”

Ava’s cheeks flush. “One time.”

“Twice,” Beatrice reminds her. “So, if the knife slips, just let it.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Ava bounces, some of that frenetic energy back. “What else?”

“Always make sure your cutting board is on a flat, even surface so that it - or your knife - doesn’t slide.” Beatrice gestures at the cutting board on the counter. “Make sure nothing is under it.”

Ava waits in the silence for a moment before she blinks expectantly. “Is that it?”

Beatrice thinks for a moment. “For now, yes.”

“Great. Let’s get started.” She rocks forward, hands a little slower as they reach for the knife. She looks at Beatrice, waiting for a nod before she picks up the chef’s knife. She taps the blade experimentally against the cutting board.

“You can start with the carrots,” Beatrice suggests. “You don’t need to dice them.” She leans against the counter and watches as Ava examines a carrot critically, before she puts it down on the cutting board and grips it, fingertips out, as she raises the knife.

Beatrice shoots forward, hand curling tightly around Ava’s fingers on the knife, careful to hold on so Ava doesn’t drop it in surprise. “Not like that,” she murmurs. Her body follows her arm, putting her close enough to Ava to breathe in the slight tang of the pineapple shampoo she bought by accident.

Ava turns, eyes wide. “Sorry.”

“You’ll cut your fingers off,” Beatrice continues quietly. She carefully lowers Ava’s hand back down to the cutting board. “You need to-” She squeezes Ava’s hand once until it loosens under her palm. She feels the tension radiating through Ava’s arm slacken. “You need to curl your fingers in.”

Ava blinks at her. “I need to what?”

Beatrice lets go of Ava’s knife hand, placing it down gently. “Hold on. Can I-”

Ava shifts slightly, opening up her side. “Yes.”

Beatrice nods shortly and steps in, her hand settling around the one holding the carrot. Her fingertips press back against Ava’s fingernails until they curl back and it’s the flat of her knuckles showing. “Like this. Curl your fingers in or you’ll cut them off.”

She doesn’t realize she’s holding Ava’s hand in her own until Ava turns her head and they’re a whisper apart from each other. She nearly lets go, but Ava is staring at her and waiting for her next instruction. Beatrice swallows heavily. Ava’s hand flexes in hers, the carrot under it scratching against the cutting board.

This is what it feels like to touch Ava. To feel the warmth of her skin against the palm of her hand. Beatrice can feel the ridges of her knuckles, the sharp bone under her callouses. It’s warmer than she thought it might be. Drier. She can feel her own palm growing hot in return and she nearly pulls away, afraid of catching fire.

Ava only meets her eyes, tips her head to one side, and smiles. “Like this?”

She has to clear her throat twice and then gives in, just nodding.

Ava doesn’t pull away. She leaves Beatrice’s hand where it is as she readjusts her grip on the carrot, holding it as steadily as possible between her fingers while the flats of their knuckles face out. She looks at Beatrice and waits for another nod before she picks up the knife. She pauses, looking expectantly at Beatrice.

Beatrice doesn’t understand. She looks back, unsure of what to say. The circuitry between her brain and the rest of her body is flickering in and out. And Ava is waiting so patiently, asking a silent question that Beatrice can’t understand. She nearly scowls; she’s behind something she can’t define and she doesn’t like it.

“Help me?” Ava finally asks.

“Oh.” Beatrice’s free hand twitches and Ava nods encouragingly as she extends it, reaching across Ava until her hand is wrapping around Ava’s knife hand.

She stands here, both arms stretched across Ava’s body in a slightly odd angle and thinks: Oh.

Her heart starts to beat, loud enough that she’s sure Ava can hear it, and her cheeks flush. Oh, this is what it feels like to touch someone and want to set the world on fire. Oh, this is what it feels like to want more of something so desperately, she’d be willing to stay stuck here until it’s taken away from her. Oh, this is what it feels like to be so overwhelmed that her whole world dials down to the places where she stops and Ava begins.

Ava carefully brings the knife down over the carrot and they watch as it slides through it gracefully. She feels the flex of Ava’s hands under hers and thinks oh, oh, oh.

This is love.

Now that she knows what it feels like to touch Ava, the last fraying thread holding back her tidal wave of feelings - ones she’s held dormant - snaps like the core of a carrot as the knife slices into it again. It’s like this was the last line of defense. It comes crashing down the way a house of cards folds. All of the things she’s learned about Ava - the years in the orphanage, the way she dunks her french fries into ketchup and then mayo, the nights she pretends not to cry herself to sleep, the stretch of her smile that matches the way she stretches across the couch - burst forward from a tight knot in Beatrice’s chest and overwhelm her.

Once, she thought she was in love. Once, she had written Mrs. Penelope Marshall, the first girl who broke her heart, in the margins of her notebook while her Latin teacher droned on about derivatives, and Beatrice had thought that it was the best thing she could ever be.

But Ava looks sideways at her and smiles as their hands move together, and Beatrice thinks that if what she felt then was love, there’s no word in any language that can describe what this is now.

“You’re a good teacher,” Ava says, rocking the knife on the cutting board. “I knew it.”

Beatrice inhales, the scent of pineapple in her nose. “You’re a good student.”

Ava preens for a second. “I knew I would be.”

Their hands still. Beatrice doesn’t let go. Now that she knows what it’s like to touch, she never wants to let go. But her palms start to sweat, and she knows that Ava will be able to feel it. She takes a step back, putting an ocean between them again, and nods encouragingly as she tries to keep herself steady.

“You try.”

“Without you?” Ava pouts slightly, but recovers quickly. “Okay. Stand back, chef. Watch me.”

Beatrice watches. She’s always watching. She’s been watching since the moment Ava crashed into her table, spilling the entire contents of her to-go mug onto her notes. She’s been watching since Ava moved the last box into their apartment, declaring herself moved in. She’s been watching and watching and never touching because touch is reserved for the moments that really matter.

Because touch is the last puzzle piece holding her together, but now she doesn’t even have that.

Ava slices another round off the carrot and grins. “Totally easy.” She looks back over her shoulder and winks. “I knew I would- ow!”

Beatrice frowns, blinking at the sudden change in pitch and volume. It takes her a moment to realize that Ava has nicked her finger, and blood is starting to run down it as she holds it up into the air. Beatrice stares at the bright red bead as it slides across warm, dry skin she was just touching for a beat too long. By the time she moves, Ava is already turned away, turning on the tap.

“Shit,” Ava hisses as the water rushes over the cut. 

Beatrice snaps to attention, grabbing a dishcloth from the cabinet next to the refrigerator. She pulls Ava’s hand out of the water and examines the cut. It starts to bleed again. “It’s small. Hold still.”

Ava stops wriggling. “Don’t-”

Beatrice tightens her grip, pressing firmly on the cut. Ava hisses. “I’m sorry,” she says gently. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Ava’s face softens. “Of course not, Bea.” Her free hand rests on Beatrice’s wrist. “You didn’t tell me first aid was included in this lesson.”

“You won’t need stitches.”

“Bea.”

“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

“Bea.” A hand drops to her waist and she shivers. The hand drops away. “Honestly, it’s fine. It just caught me by surprise.”

Beatrice still doesn’t look up from the cut. “Dull knives are worse. They require more force to get through food, so when it slips and cuts into your hand, the cut is usually deeper.”

“Good thing you keep these things sharp enough to cut steel,” Ava jokes.

Beatrice slowly unwraps the dishcloth from the cut and examines it. Blood still trickles down, but much slower. Good. She needs a first aid kit, so she can wash it and then dress it. It shouldn’t require much work. The cut looked simple enough.

She takes a step away but Ava grabs her wrist, pulling her to a stop.

Oh.

“We can still cook, right? You’ll still teach me?” Ava smiles hopefully.

There’s that check-in, again. Ava always asking what she’s willing to give. Even if now, that limit has expanded a thousand miles in the span of time it took to slice half a carrot. Beatrice knows - has known - she can’t say no, and now she is acutely aware of why. 

“Of course. We’ll just be more careful.” She takes a step away and Ava’s hand slowly drops from her wrist. She feels the loss of it like a limb that’s been cut off.

“You’re the best, Bea,” Ava calls as she slips into the bathroom in search of the kit.

Beatrice stands in front of the window above the sink, studying herself in its reflection. She doesn’t look different now that she knows that she’s fallen in love with Ava. Nothing on the outside has changed, but everything on the inside has toppled over and formed new shapes that feel strange. She wasn’t looking to be in love, wasn’t expecting it to happen to her any time soon, or all. But she’s learning that most things with Ava are big and unexpected and exactly what she’s looking for, no matter that she didn’t know that.

She holds her hands up in front of her face, turning them over. She expects to see Ava’s fingerprints burned into her skin, but they look just the same as they did minutes earlier when she was just Beatrice. They don’t burn; they don’t glow. They only ache. To go back out there and touch again, a need she thinks may never be sated.

Beatrice meets her eyes in the window and looks at this new person staring back at her. 

Touch is a love language, she knows. She just didn’t know it was one of hers.

~

two months.

There's poetry in swimming. A grace in the way arms cut through still water, propelling forward. It cuts away on either side of her and she glides through it like she’s exhaling. The world feels weightless in the water, like she could float away contentedly.

It’s the smell that begs the question of why Beatrice agreed to this.

The school pool smells over-chlorinated and it sticks to the inside of her nose. She resists the urge to sneeze and clear it, focusing instead on dipping her toe into the water, testing it.

Warm.

She frowns, turned off by the idea of bathwater. Whatever bacteria is being fed by the warm water, they’re trying to shock away with chlorine. Why is she paying so much in tuition for warm, bacteria-infested water?

“You’re on scholarship,” Ava reminds her.

She blinks, unaware she spoke out loud. Ava laughs and bumps a nearly-bare shoulder into her arm gently. Her frown ebbs away like the water lapping at the side of the pool. Ava’s skin is already damp from the humidity in the air and Beatrice marvels at the idea that this is what it must be like when Ava steps out of the shower and wraps a thick towel around her body, shoulders and neck still exposed. She flushes.

Ava bounces lightly, careful of the slick floor. “At least we have the place to ourselves.”

That might be another problem. Because they are alone, the pool empty in the middle of the day. There’s no one here to see the way Beatrice can’t quite look Ava in the eye or the way her hands shake a little as she grips her towel a little too tightly. At least at tomorrow’s Color Run, there will be crowds of people and chaos surrounding them, reminding Beatrice to curb that impulse to touch, to keep her hands to herself. 

Here, alone, Beatrice has no buffer, just her and Ava and her heart lay bare. 

This touch thing has been a bit of a nuisance. It consumes her. It’s been a couple weeks since the world shifted on its axis and now she wants to be touching Ava all the time. Sometimes it’s small - a brush of a hand as they pass a spatula back and forth at dinner or trade the television remote. Sometimes it’s bigger - pulling Ava into a hug after a long day of classes where her back has tightened up to the point of pain and willing it away. She limits herself, though. Sometimes per day, sometimes per instance. She never takes too much, always gives Ava her space. 

She doesn’t want to push. Everyone has taken so much from Ava. She’s not going to be a name added to that list.

Some nights, she still feels like she takes too much. She touches the back of Ava’s hand or she pokes delicately at her ankle bone as Ava stretches her feet into her lap or she leans into the way Ava seems to always be leaning in towards her. Those nights, she stays in bed and stares at the ceiling and thinks about what would happen if she went into Ava’s room and curled around her. Would she survive that? Would they?

“Thank goodness,” Ava admits. She’s a little breathless. “I was kind of worried about that.”

All of Beatrice’s reservations fade away at her words. Ava is what’s important here. She turns, meeting Ava head-on. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do,” she says quickly. Her eyes cut nervously to the deep end of the pool. It’s 8 feet down to the bottom. “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

Beatrice reaches down and curls her fingers over Ava’s wrist, feeling the thudding pulse under her fingertips. 

“Ava,” she says softly. Ava looks back at her, a tremulous smile on her face. “We can come back another day. Or just sit on the edge with our feet in the water.”

Something stretches Ava’s spine straight. “No. I’ve waited long enough. I’m going to swim.”

“You’re going to learn,” Beatrice stresses. “Actual swimming might not happen today.”

“Sure, sure,” Ava says dismissively. “Cannonballs by the hour’s end.” 

Her wrist slides out of Beatrice’s grip as she moves towards a long, sweating wooden bench lining the wall. Ava drops her towel - a large pink thing with a flamingo in an inner tube on it - and slides out of the flip flops she wore, tucking them under the bench. She turns, hands on her hips, and surveys the pool.

Beatrice inhales sharply, feeling that chlorine burning in her nose again as she takes in the sight of Ava.

She saw the bathing suit when Ava bought it, of course. Ava held it up in front of her, going on about how she picked red because every movie she saw with a lifeguard in it had a red swimsuit on. It’s funny, Bea, she explained at Beatrice’s blank look. The girl who can’t swim playing pretend as someone who rescues people in the water? She wasn’t deterred by Beatrice’s silence. She shrugged and ordered Thai.

But seeing Ava holding it up in front of her, separated from her skin by a pair of electric pink soft cotton shorts and a bright yellow tank top - a combination that seemed like some kind of criminal offense, even to her - was entirely different than seeing it on her.

Because on Ava, the swimsuit seemed impossibly smaller than it had before. It did things she had only read about in books: hugged curves, fit like a second skin. She’d never experienced the kind of feeling romance novel protagonists talked of, but the words suddenly made sense to her. She blushed whenever her eyes roamed anywhere past Ava’s shoulders.

She swallows now, as Ava stretches her arms above her head and sighs contently. Ava turns and Beatrice looks away quickly, eyeing the shallow end.

She hears Ava’s bare feet padding through the small puddles where the floor is uneven. Two hands fall to her waist from behind and squeeze slightly. Another sharp inhale; she tastes the chlorine in her throat.

“You’re not going to wear that in the water, are you?” Hot fingers pluck along her side at the perfectly respectable cover shirt she’s wearing. “Because that’s not fair.”

Beatrice forces herself to breathe out, grateful for Ava being at her back. Having Ava’s touch so close, she wants to just… lean into it. She finds she’s always seeking it out, that simple reminder that Ava is alive and next to her. Since the floodgates opened, since she experienced what it was like to touch and to be touched, she finds she’s reaching into every corner hoping to come up with some part of Ava between her fingers.

But she knows Ava’s casual touches don’t mean what she wants them to mean. She knows she shouldn’t read into them.

“Of course not,” she says almost to herself.

Cool air rushes across her neck where Ava exhales. “Oh, good. Because I’m wondering what kind of bathing suit might be under there.” She winks when Beatrice glances back.

Despite the balmy air, Beatrice shivers. 

Ava doesn’t seem to notice, stepping away and surveying the pool. “So, where do we start?”

“We won’t cover much today,” she says as she starts to take her shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it next to Ava’s towel. “We’ll practice floating, I think.”

When she turns, Ava is staring at her. “There is a body underneath that shirt.” 

Beatrice feels her cheeks redden. “Ava.”

“And it’s not made up of wires, either.” Ava shakes her head. “It’s a crime, hiding that under a polyester-cotton blend.”

She sighs. “Ava.”

Ava grins and holds up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, Beatrice. You’re denying the people.”

Am I denying you?

She blinks rapidly at the thought. It feels blasphemous to think such a thing. She’s grown more comfortable with those thoughts lately. But never in the same room as Ava. Never when she’s standing five feet away in a bathing suit as bright red as she’s sure her face is right now. 

So she shoves it down for now and thinks instead about the different things she’ll teach Ava. Thinks about the lessons she read online: the importance of starting with floating, and staying calm in the water, and maintaining contact with an instructor during a first lesson, and - oh no. I need to touch her.

“Wait. You’ve done this before, right?” Ava asks suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. 

Beatrice wets her bottom lip, tasting chlorine. “I looked up how to begin swimming.”

Ava’s eyes narrow. “On a swimming website for babies?”

“For children,” she admits. She rushes to add, “But not babies. Small children.” She pauses for a moment. “The same size as you, actually.”

“Beatrice,” Ava gasps. She presses a hand to her chest. Beatrice pointedly ignores it. “You’re just a few inches taller than I am, you know. And I can still ride amusement rides.”

She ignores Ava. “The first step is getting into the water. There are different ways to enter a pool. The ladder, of course. Or you can sit on the edge and swivel in.”

Ava bites down on her bottom lip, eyes back on the pool as she weighs her options. “How’re you getting in?”

“I was going to sit and swivel, if you’d like to.” Ava is silent. “I find that sometimes sliding in is the best option. The stairs give me too much time to change my mind.”

Ava considers this. She’s bouncing lightly, eyes darting back towards the deep end every few seconds. 

She’s nervous. Beatrice steps forward, hand finding its natural place on Ava’s wrist. She squeezes until Ava meets her eyes. They’re ringed with worry. It’s not that Beatrice didn’t know Ava was hesitant around large bodies of water; she just didn’t understand how much.

“I promise I will not let you drown. I will not let anything happen to you.” She says it firmly, hoping Ava knows she means it. 

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Ava takes a shuddering breath. “It’s the drain at the bottom of the pool. What if it sucks me in?”

“The… the drain?”

Ava nods, staring at it now. “Yeah. I saw a movie once, one that an older boy snuck in. This girl - she was annoying, but still - she went swimming and the pool drain just… sucked her in.”

She wants to laugh. It’s ridiculous, that Ava could even fit in the pool drain, or that it would do something like start to suck out water in the middle of the day. But the fear in Ava’s eyes is real, and her heart aches instead. She turns Ava gently, holding her gaze.

“We are not going in the deep end. We’ll be 50 meters away from the pool drain. You certainly wouldn’t fit in it if, for some reason, the pool did start draining.” Beatrice smiles softly and squeezes her hand. “And more importantly, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Ava’s eyes search hers. “Okay,” she says after a minute and squeezes back. “I trust you.”

Beatrice swallows under the weight of the words. She smiles softly and releases Ava’s hand, taking a slight step back. Her toes splash in the pockets of the floor as she walks to the edge of the pool.

Ava follows her lead. “Okay, so sit and swivel?”

Beatrice takes a deep breath and smiles tightly. “Sit and swivel.” She slowly lowers herself into the shallow end of the pool. The water laps at the back of her thighs, soaking her bathing suit. She looks up when Ava hesitates. “I’ll go in first, then you can.”

Ava nods jerkily. “Sure. Totally cool.” 

Ava lowers herself to the tiles and scoots forward gently so her feet slide into the water. Beatrice watches carefully, making sure to angle herself so that if Ava slips, she can catch her. But Ava moves slowly until she’s mirroring Beatrice. Water splashes against her knees.

“Perfect.” Beatrice smiles and turns her body, sliding the rest of the way into the water. It comes up to her waist. “Now it’s your turn.”

Ava seems like she’s breathing a little easier. She slides into the pool, splashing a little. The water hits her hips, waving up around her as she stands an arm’s length away from Beatrice. “I did it.”

“You did it.” 

They’ll have to go a little deeper to teach Ava anything. And the distance might help Beatrice’s pounding heart a little too. Beatrice then takes a large step back, towards the deep end, until the water comes up just below her chest. 

“Now, we need to go out a little further to-”

“You said shallow end.”

“You can’t build confidence in the water if it’s at your belly button.” Ava eyes her warily and Beatrice ebbs back towards her, careful not to touch her. “I told you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Okay,” Ava says softly after a minute. She takes a short step forward. Beatrice slides back another. “Bea.”

“I’m right here.” 

Ava is looking at her now, eyeing the distance between them. They’re in the middle of the pool now, nothing to hold onto and that nervousness is back in Ava’s eyes. Beatrice changes tactics.

“How about we practice treading water?” she suggests. She cuts past Ava back to the side of the pool and grips the edge. “You can hold on and we can practice here.”

Ava seems relieved. “Sure. That works for me.” She takes a step closer to the deep end, the water rising to her shoulders now. She takes it with confidence, the kind she usually carries. “So I just…”

“Hold on. And let yourself drop a little bit. Treading water is about conserving energy while staying afloat.” Beatrice lowers herself into the water, letting it come up to her neck. She kicks her feet a little. “See how I’m staying up?”

“You’re holding on,” Ava points out.

Beatrice resists the urge to roll her eyes and lets go. She holds her arms out, perpendicular to body. She kicks her feet again and bobs in the water. “By nature, we float. So as long as there is air in your lungs, you’ll be fine. Your arms and feet just add to the buoyancy.” 

She straightens up, feet flat on the bottom of the pool.  When she stands, the temperature change between the air and the water makes her shiver. “See, it only comes up to my neck,” she reassures. “You try it.”

Ava grips the edge of the pool and lowers herself slightly. The water brushes up against her chin and Beatrice sees her eyes widen. But then she kicks her feet a little and she bobs back up, bouncing on the surface of the water.

Beatrice smiles. “See?”

Ava beams. “Treading water? Check.”

“Well, not quite,” Beatrice laughs. “You need to let go next.”

“Cool. Cool, cool.” Ava let's go with one hand and her body dips down. She quickly grabs it again. “Not cool.”

Beatrice laughs a little and drifts forward. “Come on,” she beckons. “I’ll be right here.”

She expects Ava to argue, to convince her they can go sit in the shallow end and talk instead of swimming. She expects Ava to say, “this isn’t for me. I really wanted to learn, but it’s just not in the cards right now.” Or even that she’s a bad teacher and she’s going to ask Shannon - who’s been a summer lifeguard since she was fifteen and has far more experience than Beatrice - for lessons.

What she doesn’t expect is for Ava to take a deep breath, blow out her cheeks, and leap forward into her arms.

Beatrice is nearly knocked back by the force of Ava’s jump. Her feet slide against the slick pool bottom and she swallows a mouthful of chlorine. She can’t focus on it. There are hands. There’s skin. Ava’s hands glide over her shoulders, fingernails trying to find purchase in the straps of her swimsuit as their bodies crash together. 

Her hands ghost along Ava’s ribs and oh. Ava’s swimsuit has an open back. She can feel the scarring along Ava’s spine, could count each of them if she ran her fingers up and down. Her fingernails scratch against skin she’s only ever imagined under her hands. She wants to map each inch she can touch, commit it to memory.

Ava’s hands finally find a place, locking around the back of her neck as she tries to hold on tighter.

Everything in her seizes. Her legs, tangled smoothly against Ava’s, freeze and lock into place. Her arms go slack against Ava’s back. She feels the water come up over her mouth again. A knee digs into her stomach and she gasps, swallowing the warm water again. Something sharp scratches against her shoulder as she starts to go under. She feels a heel dig into her thigh and then she’s being pulled sideways through the water.

She bumps against the side of the pool and then a hand winds itself into the strap of her swimsuit, pulling her up and out of the water. She gasps for air as her shoulders crest the surface.

“I thought you said people float!” Ava shouts, the words so loud in Beatrice’s ear.

Beatrice has to shake her head, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, god.” Ava’s hands flutter around her face, tipping her head back to study her face. “I’m sorry. I just thought- I thought you’d catch me.”

Beatrice sucks in a ragged breath. “I did.” The pool wall is cool against her back. She leans her head back against the edge, sucking humid air into her lungs.

The world comes back into sharp focus and she goes still again.

Ava is crowding her against the side of the pool, one hand tangled in her bun as it comes undone and the other brushing the rolling drops of water off her cheek. Their legs are tangled again, Ava’s toes skimming along her shin. Ava’s eyes are almost wild, darting back and forth as they search her face.

“Jesus, Bea,” she exhales. One of her legs hooks around Beatrice’s and it pulls her closer. “Are you okay?”

No. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. They flutter in the water, fingers clenching around nothing. She knows where she wants to put them: right where they were a minute ago, sliding across Ava’s sides to her back. She knows that she wants to dig her fingertips into Ava’s skin and leave them there so Ava can feel them even after she pulls away.

Pull it together. She swallows heavily.

“I’m fine.”

Ava’s body is still moving with the water, still ebbing in and out against her. The hand at her cheek goes to the pool’s edge and it drips water down on Beatrice’s shoulder, drops rolling off her skin. “I thought people float,” Ava breathes, her words hot against Beatrice’s face. “You said they did.” 

Beatrice finally touches down, thumbs stroking against Ava’s ribs involuntarily. Ava jumps a little. “They do. When they’re not being jumped on.”

Ava looks sheepish now. “I just… I thought that I would just go for it, you know? That maybe I was a natural swimmer and I’d just…”

“Stay afloat,” Beatrice finishes.

“Yes. And if I couldn’t, you’d rescue me. I just-” Her hand scratches lightly against the back of Beatrice’s neck. “I was a little enthusiastic, I think.”

She loves Ava’s enthusiasm - not when it’s trying to sink her, of course. But generally, she loves it. She finds it intoxicating, contagious. She wants to let her sweep her up almost all the time.

Her thumbs count Ava’s ribs. One, two, three…

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Worry winds around every word and Ava’s hand slides along her jaw to her chin, titling her face up. “You swallowed a lot of water.”

She can see small beads of water running down the long line of Ava’s neck, disappearing into the surface of the water. She watches the race down over smooth skin and she wants to track it with her fingertip. 

Pull it together.

“I’ll have a stomach ache later, maybe. And I need to brush my teeth.” She doesn’t even want to think about the chlorine anymore. “But maybe we should-”

“Try another day?” Ava nods. “Yeah, we should try another day. I owe you, like, tons of coffee. And take out, definitely. Your choice. No spending limit.”

She smiles softly. “I meant, maybe we should, um…” She looks down between their bodies.

Ava looks down and startles. “Oh! I’m sorry, I was-” She starts to pull away, her hand getting caught in Beatrice’s hair. “I’ll just-”

“It’s okay.” Beatrice doesn’t pull her hand back right away. “I’m fine.”

“No, this is your space and I’m just- dammit.” She finally works her hand out of Beatrice’s hair and her leg slides across Beatrice’s hip as she grips the edge with both hands and pulls herself around Beatrice’s body.

The water feels cold as it rushes into the spaces where Ava’s body had just been. She has to blink a few times, trying to pull her head together. That was more than just a brush of a hand or a fleeting kiss to the top of her head as Ava rushed to get to class. This was her hand against Ava’s side, long enough to feel Ava’s ribs under her fingers. This was her legs sliding against Ava’s. This was Ava’s hands in her hair and fingers at her jaw and and and. 

Ava pulls herself up and out of the pool, sitting on the edge of it, legs still in the water. They still brush against Beatrice’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Beatrice stares at the other side of the pool, going through breathing exercises until she can turn and smile and mean it. “Don’t be. I should have prepared you better for this.”

Ava smiles. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who flung myself into your arms.”

Do it again.

She blinks. “Next time, I’ll be ready to catch you.”

Ava’s smile stretches. “Next time, huh? Careful, Beatrice. You’ll make a girl swoon, telling her she can run into your arms at any time.”

Her cheeks flush. She knows it. Ava always gets this look in her eyes when she’s successfully made Beatrice blush. “Yes, well.” She clears her throat. “Maybe we could be done for the day?”

“Of course, Bea.” Ava pats her gently on the shoulder. “I was serious. Coffee and take out on me. We’ll even watch one of your documentaries, if you want. Anything you want. Nothing too small.”

It's not a date. It's just friends getting coffee and eating out. Friends do that all the time. It's not a date unless they say it's a date and that's not what they're saying. Beatrice can't remember the last time she went out on a date and Ava hasn't since they met. But if they did go out together on a date - a thought she's had before that always seems to make her heart stick a little - she'd want it to be more than coffee and take out. 

But, she's not going to think about that. She's going to just stay in a bubble where neither of them are going on dates and spending all their time together. 

That can be enough.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do. I nearly drowned you.”

She almost rolls her eyes. “I would have been fine. I just needed another moment to get my bearings.”

“Still,” Ava says brightly. “You had a near-death experience. Let me take care of you.” She doesn’t wait for an answer. She leans down, brushes her lips against her chlorine-soaked hair, and stands up. Beatrice can hear her padding through puddles towards the towels.

She takes another minute to get out, letting herself bob in the water as she tries to let it wash away the feel of Ava’s body. 

She doesn’t think she’s going to ever forget.

~

three months.

Beatrice likes to think that she’s more than capable of reading Ava’s moods. She can separate out mad from frustrated, happy from content, sad from melancholy. Maybe it’s from living in such close quarters; from the fact that she spends an average of 18 hours a day with her and it’s hard not to know someone so well after all that time.

The point is: Ava comes home from class and she is not just mad. She’s angry.

The kind of angry Beatrice saw last week when Ava declared she was willing to face incarceration for Beatrice, if it meant that her parents would never hurt her again. The kind of angry that took Ava hours and a movie night with their friends to come down from.

She throws the door behind her, catching it at just the last moment so it doesn’t slam shut. Beatrice appreciates it. Her neighbors are nice. And one of them has a baby that’s just gotten onto a sleep schedule; she doesn’t want to be responsible for waking it up. Especially since a sleep schedule means it’s not up half the night crying.

But Ava comes crashing through it all the same. She throws her backpack down, cheeks red and forehead pinched. It slides a little across the floor into the coat rack, but doesn’t knock it over. She doesn’t even kick off her shoes, stomping around the couch and past the breakfast bar where Beatrice is set up between classes, right to the refrigerator that she pulls open and thrusts her hand into. She comes up with one of Mary’s beers, left behind after a movie night earlier in the week.

Beatrice is up around rounding the bar before she even thinks about it, plucking the bottle from Ava’s hand.

Ava turns and nearly growls before she seems to recognize Beatrice. Her face smooths out.

“I can make you some tea.”

She’s expecting a bit of a fight, but Ava just sighs and nods miserably, sagging back against the counter.

Beatrice busies herself with putting the beer back and turning on the kettle. She moves around Ava, careful not to touch her. It’s not that she’s scared of touching her. It’s just that everything has changed between them. Knowing she’s the most important person in Ava’s life, that she always will be, hasn’t just tinted every interaction they’ve had in the last week. It’s changed everything. It’s changed her. 

The entire situation has her on her back foot, a place she despises. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, or how to act. How does she move them forward from that without losing what makes them them? 

She can start with tea. She finds Ava’s mug, the one with Dog Dad written in blocky letters on it. She can take care of Ava the way Ava takes care of her. She can listen. She can show Ava how important she is in return.

It isn’t until she’s pulling down a tea bag that she feels slim fingers encircle her wrist and pull her to a stop.

“Sorry,” Ava grumbles.

Beatrice smiles patiently. “Tough day?”

“You know Francesca, in my history class?”

Beatrice tries to shuffle through the various characters Ava tells her about. She doesn’t remember a Francesca off the top of her head. Francis in her feminist lit class, yes. But Francesca…

Ava takes her silence as the no that it is. “She’s the one I told you about who had the crappy boyfriend?”

Vaguely, Beatrice pulls to mind a time when Ava came home complaining about some guy who interrupted their class to yell at girlfriend. Francesca, apparently. 

“Well, guess who showed up when we were headed to get some coffee after class?” Beatrice doesn’t have to. “Yeah, he just ambushed us on our walk. Totally embarrassed her in front of our whole study group. And you want to know the worst part?”

Beatrice pours hot water into Ava’s mug. “What?”

“He grabbed her. In broad daylight. Grabbed her by the wrist and tried to pull her away from us. I had to jump in and-”

“Are you okay?” Beatrice abandons the kettle and grabs Ava’s hand, gesticulating wildly between them. She turns it over like she was the one who was grabbed. “Is Francesca?”

Ava sighs but doesn’t pull away from her as Beatrice brushes her fingertips over a pulse point. “Yeah. I mean, I had to hit him with my backpack a few times before he took off.”

“You what?”

“And we sent Francesca home with Juan,” Ava says over her. “He promised he’d stay with her the rest of the day. But that douche knows where she lives and there’s no chance he doesn’t go back to try and bother her.”

“Ava.”

Ava looks at her, face red again. “You just can’t come up to someone and grab someone like that, you know? It’s assault, at least. She was totally spooked. And I don’t blame her!”

Beatrice abandons Ava’s hand and grabs her shoulders, holding her steady. “Ava.”

“If I see him again, I’m going to hit him with more than just my backpack. I’m going to take my fist and punch him right in the-”

“Ava,” Beatrice says sharply.

Ava blinks. “What?”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh.” Ava looks a little sheepish now. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. The bagel I was saving you is probably squished and I’m sure I have cream cheese all over my history textbook so I won’t get my money back, but I’m-” She reaches up, loops a few fingers around Beatrice’s wrist and tugs gently until her hand is curled up against Ava’s chest. “I’m fine.”

Beatrice exhales a thin stream of air. She turns her hand in Ava’s until their palms are pressed together. 

She feels like she’s attached to Ava here. Like a thread pulls her in, staring at Ava’s lifeline and tugging until her calloused palms are pressed to Ava’s smooth ones. She doesn’t fight it, she lets it consume her. And she keeps the feel of it long after she’s separated from Ava.

“Okay,” she says, more a reassurance to herself than anything. “And Francesca?”

“Like I said, embarrassed. And I think her wrist hurts, but she wouldn’t tell us that.” Ava looks sad now. “He was such an ass. Going on about how she can’t leave him. Honestly, he was embarrassing himself. I told her to file a report. He’s a big guy, he could go right through Juan.”

As long as it isn’t right through you.

“But it got me thinking about something,” Ava continues. “I couldn’t do anything to, like, help her. He just grabbed her and we all stood there. Sure, my backpack doubles as a small weapon-”

“Only because you refuse to take anything out of it.”

“But,” Ava stresses, rolling her eyes. “It wasn’t enough. I needed him to go away on the first hit. It took, like, six tries before he finally let go. I need to do better. So, you need to help me.”

Beatrice frowns. “I need to help you, what? Hit someone with a backpack?”

Ava pauses. “Well, no. Though, I should start coming to the gym with you, I think. That backpack is really heavy. Maybe Mary could make up a workout plan and I can learn to push one of those heavy bags across the gym. That’s very sexy, I think.” She narrows her eyes. “Can you do that?”

Beatrice swallows, a little hot under her collar. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Damn.” Ava pouts. She looks off to the middle distance, eyes clouding over for a moment, then blinks and looks back at her. “Right.” She smiles crookedly. “I need your help fighting someone.”

“Fighting someone,” Beatrice repeats. “I’m not going to help you fight someone.”

Fighting someone isn't the answer. It's not even the question. 

Beatrice can appreciate what it means, the way that Ava is willing to step up for her friends and help them. One of the things she loves about Ava is the way she seems to want to do what she can for everyone. She's the first person Mary calls when she needs to go left off some steam. She's the first text when one of their friends needs a study buddy - even if Ava isn't too sure on the material. But it’s not just their circle of friends. Ava is someone everyone can count on. Someone who cares enough to help everyone around her. In the moments where Beatrice lets herself think she's a good person, she thinks Ava is someone a lot like her, just a little bit more impulsive.

But the last thing she wants to do is encourage Ava to put herself in harm’s way.

“Pleaseeeee.” Ava pushes out her bottom lip and blinks up at Beatrice through her lashes. “You’re already a great teacher. And you’re, like, a celebrated fighter. You’ve won trophies, Bea. That means more than one. You could show me how to kick someone’s ass and then the next time that douchebag shows up, I’ll-”

“Next time, you just walk away,” Beatrice interrupts. “You don’t fight a man as tall as a mountain.”

“Okay, he wasn’t as tall as a mountain. More like, as tall as Lilith.” Ava starts to walk her other hand across Bea’s arm, looping gently just below her elbow. “But it’s going to happen again. He’s like a parasite. A cockroach. And when he does come back, I want to be able to put him flat on his back. Bruce Lee style.”

Beatrice is shaking her head before Ava even finishes. “I’m not teaching you how to fight someone. And you shouldn’t be wanting to fight someone either. You’re very small.”

“I’m not-” Ava huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Wouldn’t that make me a better fighter? Because I could duck and weave and kick someone directly in the kneecap?”

There’s some logic to Ava’s thought process. Being small has its advantages. A lower center of gravity. Typically more movement than a man built like a brick house. But Ava is not a fighter by nature and a man built like a large rhinoceros would break her in half like a rotted out piece of pine board. No. She can’t teach Ava to fight.

“No.”

“Bea,” Ava sighs, frustration licking at the corners of her name. “I don’t need to know, like, all the steps it takes to become a black belt. I just need to know how to scare him off.” She steps closer and Beatrice feels the air between their bodies leave the room. “Come on. Show me a couple of things. You know I’m a good learner.”

“Cooking, yes. But the last time I tried to teach you how to do something physical…”

“Yes, I tried to drown you. That was once and I was panicking. And the next time we went swimming, I did a lot better.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “Fighting is a situation where you will panic. I still panic every time I get into a fight.”

“Okay, what if I make you a deal?”

Beatrice eyes her warily. “What kind of deal?” 

The last time they made a deal, Beatrice ended up in the observatory after hours, hiding from campus security while Ava tried to escape the locked tower. They finally had to call for Mary to come and pick the lock.

 “You teach me a few things about fighting and I’ll go with you to that conservatory luncheon conversation thing. The one about religious texts in modern media.” Ava thrusts her hand forward in a handshake. “Deal?”

Beatrice wasn’t planning on going to that. She could probably learn more from the supplementary texts her professor provided last class. But Ava is looking at her with soft eyes and her fingers are brushing against the inside of Beatrice’s elbow and Beatrice feels her resolve falling like her attempt at making a souffle, another one of Ava’s ambitious ideas. She can’t say no. She’s never been able to say no.

But also, a small part of her thinks, it’s an opportunity. There are times when Beatrice thinks that maybe Ava feels this too. Maybe she touches Beatrice because she wants to, just as much as Beatrice wants to touch her in return. And this is a chance to touch Ava, to explore what that feels like.

“Okay,” she sighs. She shakes Ava’s hand shortly. “But you have to promise you will not get into any fights until I say you’re ready for that.”

Ava cheers loudly, wiggling around. Beatrice winces and pulls her hand away before it gets tangled up in whatever complicated motion Ava is doing. “Thank you, thank you. Where do we start? Leg sweeps? Wrist breaks?”

Beatrice can’t help but smile at Ava’s enthusiasm. Lilith calls her soft when she thinks Beatrice can’t hear her. She doesn’t try to tell her off, because she knows it’s the truth. It’s not just that she can’t say no. It’s that she also can’t bring herself to be mad about it.

“Not wrist breaks.” Ava pouts again and Beatrice has the nearly irresistible urge to brush her thumb against Ava’s bottom lip and smooth it away. “But I can teach you how to throw a punch.”

“As long as it’s not the only thing you teach me,” Ava negotiates. “I want to know more than that.”

“We’ll start with a punch.” Beatrice is going to hold firm on this. “It’s the foundation for a lot of other things.”

Ava considers that for a moment. “Like treading water.”

“Just like treading water.”

“I’m very good at that now, you know.” Ava practically preens, lifting her chin into the air.

“You are,” Beatrice says dutifully. “Your breast stroke is also very good. Don’t laugh because I said ‘breast’,” she warns Ava, who is already smirking.

“Pretty soon, I’ll be making a run for the Olympic team.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t doubt me, Beatrice.”

Beatrice means it when she says, “I would never.”

Something on Ava’s face softens and she ducks her head. Beatrice might also say she looked shy, if she had to name the emotion on her face. But she doesn’t, because no one is asking, and because she doesn’t want to.

“I can settle for a punch, sure.” Ava finally breaks their connection, sliding out of her hold. Her fingers graze Beatrice’s arm as she steps back. “So, show me.”

“What? Right now?”

“Whatever you’re doing-”

“Biochemistry.”

“-can wait.” Ava makes a face. “Biochem? Yuck. Wouldn’t spending time with me be more fun than that?”

Of course it would be. She knows that. Ava knows that. It’s why she’s had to pull all-nighters more in the last three months than she ever has in her educational career. She’d rather spend all her time with Ava, completely addicted to the way she laughs and the way she smiles and the way she always seems to rest her hand on the closest part of Beatrice she can reach.

She especially wants to spend her time doing that.

“Fine. Fine.” Beatrice abandons her biochemistry homework without a second thought. She’ll need to make it up eventually and she knows Ava will sit at the table with her later and tell her funny jokes she reads online while Beatrice tries to focus on equations.

Ava beams. “We’ll be quick.”

“We will not be if we do it correctly.”

“Then we’ll be correct and not worry about the time it takes because form is important,” Ava amends. She waits for Beatrice to nod in agreement before she thrusts her hand into the air and clenches it into a fist.

Beatrice hums. Ava looks at her expectantly, a hopeful smile on her face. It starts to fade the longer Beatrice looks. After a minute, she meets Ava’s eyes.

“May I?” She gestures towards Ava’s fist. Ava nods. “First of all, you’re holding your first too tightly.”

Ava immediately loosens it and her fingers fall apart. 

Beatrice laughs. “No, not like that.” 

She doesn’t hesitate now. Before, she might have paused, might have stopped herself from reaching out and manipulating Ava’s hand into the shape she wants it to be. But that was Beatrice months ago. Beatrice now, so used to touch, to Ava’s touch and the way it fits so neatly into her life, just reaches out.

Ava’s hand is pliant under her fingers. She softens her wrist, lets her fingers relax. Beatrice works them back into a fist, keeping firm pressure across her fingers. She taps Ava’s wrist into place, smiling softly when she sees the look of concentration on Ava’s face.

“Your fist can be your biggest weapon, if you wield it properly.” Beatrice runs her fingernails over the ridges of Ava’s knuckles. “But it comes down to the proper mechanics. Because the person you hurt might be yourself.”

“I want to hurt Eduardo.”

Beatrice wrinkles her nose at the name. She knew an Eduardo once. He was a terrible child, one of her parent’s political friend’s children. He once pushed her down and stomped on her new dress. Her mother had been furious. Suddenly, she wants Ava to hurt Eduardo too.

“Then you need to make sure you’re using the proper form.” She stands in front of Ava, studying her fist. “First, your thumb.”

“Inside, right?”

“Outside,” Beatrice corrects. She gently places Ava’s thumb on the outside of her fist. “If you leave it inside, you run the risk of breaking it.”

“Would I get a cool cast?” Beatrice glances at her and Ava grins widely. “Would you sign it? Dear Ava, you’re an idiot. Affectionately, Beatrice.”

“That wouldn’t fit on a thumb splint.”

Ava’s smile doesn’t waver. “You could figure it out.”

Beatrice sighs, the sound laced with the kind of fondness she’s found she reserves for Ava. Her hand pulses over Ava’s, reminding her of what she’s doing. She curls her fingers around Ava’s wrist and holds her other hand up flat so that the flat of Ava’s knuckles press against her palm.

“Keep your fist straight. Like this.” She puts a little force behind her palm, feeling the resistance of Ava’s fist. “When you punch, the flatter your knuckles are, the more surface area you cover. The more even the distribution is.”

“So if I’m punching Eduardo in the mouth…”

Beatrice rolls her eyes, smiling still. “If you keep your fist flat, you could break several teeth instead of one.”

There’s a look in Ava’s eyes that tells her she shouldn’t have said that. She can see the wheels churning in Ava’s mind.  

“More teeth,” Ava agrees. “I can totally remember that.”

Beatrice thinks about correcting her, about telling her that she should not go out with the intention of punching a man built like a woolly mammoth. She should make sure that Ava understands this is for self-defense and not to go on the offensive. But Ava is studying the shape of her hand intently and she thinks Ava knows that, in the very back of her mind, that she shouldn’t go out swinging at a man built like a steam engine train.

“More importantly, you won’t break your first two fingers,” Beatrice says, drawing back Ava’s attention. "It’s easy to want to punch with your index finger like this.” She makes a fist out of her own hand, clenching her index finger tightly so that it bubbles out and the knuckle leads away from her fist. 

“Watch.” Beatrice tightens her grip on Ava’s wrist and pushes her hand into her palm with her index finger leading. “See how it impacts right against these fingers?” She’s close to Ava now, her voice quieter as she steps in. “But if you flatten your knuckles…” She smooths out Ava’s hand and presses against. “It distributes more evenly. Saves you from breaking your first two fingers.”

Ava nods, head bobbing up and down. “Uh, okay.” She smiles a little crookedly. “The hardships I’m willing to endure for friends, huh?” she jokes. “Next, we should teach Juan.”

“He doesn’t know how to throw a punch?”

Ava snorts. “He’s too busy being in love with Francesca to do anything but try not to trip over his own feet.”

In love, she thinks. Is Ava in love with Francesca, if she’s willing to fight off this Eduardo? The thought is traitorous but there.

“But that’s what we do, right?” Ava’s hand shifts a little in her hold but Beatrice hardly feels it. “When we- Like, your parents. I’d fight them in an instant, to protect you. Juan and I have that in common.”

Beatrice feels a ripple of affection rush through her before it’s swallowed up by the overwhelming thought that no one has ever so vehemently and blindly defended her before. It nearly pushes her back a step, but she’s still holding onto Ava and she doesn’t want to break their connection.

She doesn’t want to let her go. She wants to touch, to stay in this moment. She wants… more. She doesn’t know if she should take it.

But Ava hasn’t shied away from her yet. Hasn’t pulled away. She’s leaned into Beatrice. She’s let Beatrice stand close and shape her.

Would she allow Beatrice to be a little closer?

She pulls her attention back to the task at hand. Ava is still standing there, waiting for instruction. “Make sure your hands are up, to protect your face if your opponent decides to throw a punch back.”

Ava scoffs. “I’m a one-and-done kind of fighter. I get one in, they’re done.”

Beatrice slowly motions a punch towards Ava who blocks it just a second too late, throwing her hands up above her head. “Hands up.”

“Fine, fine. Hands up.” She takes the carelessness out of her words with the look on her face as she brings her hands back into a resting position, one situated at her chin.

“Your form isn’t terrible.” Beatrice ignores Ava’s small cheer. “You’re right-handed, so this is your power hand.” She taps Ava’s hand. “Throw a cross punch.”

Ava pushes her hand forward, twisting naturally in a way that Beatrice knows is hard to teach. She frowns, though, walking around Ava in a small circle as she studies her.

“You’re punching from the shoulders.” She carefully touches the top of Ava’s shoulder. “You need to watch your extension. Beginners always punch from their shoulders.” She finishes her circle around Ava and rests her hand on her shoulder blade. Ava looks back at her, face pinched in concentration. “Most people think that punching is all arms, especially when you twist.” She pushes a little, leading Ava into a small twist.

“But your real power comes from your hips.” She drops Ava’s shoulders to brush her hips. “You twist your hips with enough torque, you generate enough power to make an impactful punch because you are putting your entire body behind it.” 

She pushes Ava’s hips to twist to demonstrate. Ava moves easily with the motion.

“Blunt force trauma, baby,” Ava sings. She looks up abruptly and twists a little to meet Beatrice’s eyes. “I need a superhero name.”

Beatrice smiles despite herself. “You’re just learning how to punch.”

Ava doesn’t hear her. “The Halo.”

“The Halo.”

Ava grins. “Yeah, remember that Snapchat filter with the blue and purple background that makes me look like I’m bisexual Jesus?”

“Ava,” she scolds.

“That could be my official superhero artwork.”

“Do you want to know how to throw a punch or not?”

Ava snaps to attention. “Yes, ma’am.” She thrusts her fist back into place and turns back around to face forward. “You were saying something about hips,” she says over her shoulder.

Beatrice gulps. She was. She just got distracted by the way it felt so easy to have Ava moving under her hands. Still, she needs to focus. Ava is. She can too.

Her eyes trail down from Ava’s shoulders to those hips and down to her feet. “Can The Halo take off her shoes, please?”

Ava looks down, cheeks flushing. “Oh, sorry.” She hurriedly kicks them off, sending them across the living room. 

It almost makes her laugh. Their first week living together, Beatrice would have followed after Ava until she put them in their proper place by the door. Now she doesn’t miss a beat, just continuing on and knowing that Ava will take care of it when they’re done. 

“It’s just that I need to see your footwork and I can’t if you’re wearing sneakers. Footwork is important to your legwork.” Beatrice points at Ava’s hip. “When you turn, turn sharply. Your core strength builds from there.”

Ava hesitates for a second, long enough that Beatrice catches it and frowns. “Uh, do you think…” Ava bounces a little on her toes. She’s nervous. It takes her another minute to get it out and Beatrice waits as she always does when it comes to Ava: patient and willingly. 

“Do you think that my back affects my power?”

“Oh,” Beatrice says softly. She takes a step closer, her hand already reaching out to wrap around Ava’s arm. Just to give her a touchpoint. 

“Well, a lot of your power does come from being able to rotate your core, of which your back is a part of. But you can compensate by strengthening the oblique muscles in your abs. The majority of your power though comes from your stance. Drawing power from your legs and transitioning to your upper body. Lift with your legs, right? You’ll still feel it through your body, of course, because things like boxing and mixed martial arts are whole-body practices.” 

She smooths her fingers over the sleeve of Ava’s cropped cutoff - a Baba Yaga on roller skates - and hopes Ava feels the intention in her touch. 

“But for a part-time superhero who remembers to use their legs, a few punches will be okay. You just need to learn and keep your form.”

Ava’s face clears. “Okay. So…” She grins. “How’s my form?”

“We need to fix your stance. Start with your weight evenly distributed. You also want to square up your feet. Lead foot forward but toes still pointing forward.”

Ava pitches to one side.

“No, no, wait. You’re leaning back on one leg too much. You’re giving me 70, 30 distribution. You can stand like that when we are ready to teach kicks. But for now, for just punching, I need 50, 50. Make it equal.” 

Ava turns, confused. “Can you just show me?”

Beatrice immediately steps back, hands fall away. “You want me to demonstrate?”

“No, I mean- Can you just… move my feet where they need to go?” 

There’s a hint of frustration in Ava’s words, like she’s getting upset that it doesn’t make sense the first time. They both have that in common. Ava just tends to be a bit more vocal about it. 

“Show you…”

Ava nods. “Just move my feet. I know, feet are gross. I promise they’re clean.” She waits. “I washed them two days ago.”

Beatrice knows for a fact that Ava washed her feet yesterday, because she likes to sing to her toes when she gets out of the shower. That’s not what’s making her pause. Her hesitation comes from knowing exactly what it will mean to move Ava’s body this way. She’s going to have to get even closer, cross an invisible line that only she can see. 

But Ava wants to learn and Beatrice isn’t going to let her get her information from someone at the Student Center who doesn’t know the difference between a jab and a cross punch. So she takes a halting step towards Ava, rests her hand against the small of Ava’s back, and stretches her leg out between Ava’s.

“This foot here,” she instructs. Ava’s ankle bone rubs against hers. She feels like the male lead in a Victorian novel; feeling Ava’s ankle has her heart racing. “And that foot- Yes. There.”

She looks down to check on both sides and eyes her work. It could be better. Ava is still leaning one way a little heavier than the other, but she seems to be swaying back and forth and it could work to her advantage. Satisfied, she looks up and realizes exactly how close Ava’s face is to hers. Ava grins and Beatrice’s heart shudders into place.

She tries to focus and steps behind Ava. “Now I want you to bend your knees a little like you’re going to squat.” 

She doesn’t wait to be asked this time. Her hands flutter down to Ava’s waist, fingers curling into the dip of her hip bones. She feels Ava’s body go taut and she nearly lets go, but it relaxes just as quickly and Ava is loose under her hands. 

“You want to create a stable base, so that means keeping your center of gravity low. That way when you punch, you can draw all that power from your legs.” She keeps her voice clear despite the way she feels like she’s trembling.

“Power in the legs, got it.” Ava looks down at her feet.

“When you’re low, there’s somewhere to go. That momentum can add to that force when you twist and throw that cross,” Beatrice’s hand pinches at Ava’s hip gently. “It starts down here.”

“Okay, so stay low.”

Beatrice nods. “The muscle groups you need to pay attention to are your quadriceps and your glutes.” 

Ava is still staring at her feet. “The what?”

Spurred on by a need she can’t quite fully articulate - to protect Ava the way Ava protects her, maybe. To make sure that Ava can always defend herself, surely - she runs a hand down the outside and top of Ava’s thigh. She feels a surprising amount of muscle there, pulled tight.

“These are your quads,” she says quietly. “If you’re not engaging them properly then I can just… push.” 

Beatrice gently pushes Ava forward. Ava has to take a slight step to avoid falling. Beatrice pulls her back up right and back into the cradle of her hips. “Focus on it. Engage it. And this time…” She leaves her hand pressed to Ava’s thigh and pushes with her other hand. Ava barely sways.

Ava looks back over her shoulder, eyes cutting down to where Beatrice’s hand is. “So engage my thighs.”

“Yes, front and back. Quads and glutes,” Beatrice corrects. “Your glutes especially. They’re your strongest muscle group.” 

“So what you’re saying is,” Ava starts slowly, grinning. “My ass is my strongest muscle.”

Beatrice sighs, suffering already. “Take this seriously. If you’re not doing it correctly, you can get hurt.” 

“I am,” Ava says quickly. She’s still smiling a little. “Totally am.”

She slides her hand back up to Ava’s hips, swallowing heavily when Ava looks away. “Once you’re there, you want to focus on your hips. Turn them sharply.”

“Butter knife sharp or-”

“Chef’s knife sharp.” Beatrice slides one hand a little further around Ava’s front, enough to get a slightly better grip so she can turn Ava’s hip back. “The sharper, the harder your punch is.”

There’s nearly nothing between them now. A piece of paper would wrinkle. And Beatrice feels alive. She feels like the air is cleaner. The lights are brighter. She could be glowing warm yellow light and levitating off the ground and she wouldn’t know because Ava is thisclose and she’s forgotten to buy different shampoo so it still smells like pineapple and caramel from her coffee and every single one of Beatrice’s senses is electrified. 

She’s been in love with Ava for a while now and each time they touch, she sinks a little further into the feeling. She lets it envelope her. She drowns in it. She lets it consume her most of her waking moments and all of her sleeping ones too.

She’s very dramatic. But she also loves Ava Silva more than she’s loved anything in her entire life and sometimes, dramatics are necessary.

“So,” Ava breathes out. “Just… twist my hips.”

Beatrice pulls her back again to her starting position. She can feel the muscle of Ava’s hamstring against her thigh. She keeps her voice steady, a feat harder than anything she’s ever done before. 

“Twist. Like this.” She spins Ava’s hip again. “Transfer your weight onto the ball of your foot when you twist. That’s the only time that your heel should lift off the ground.” She touches the back of Ava’s knee, pressing in a little. “Bend here more to lift as you twist up.”

Ava swallows, jaw clicking loud between them. “And my arm goes out at the same time.”

“Yes.” Beatrice uses one hand to guide Ava’s arm forward. “Put it all together to get that power. Bend, twist, punch.”

Ava lets herself be spun out again, a bend of her knee and a sharp twist of her hips. 

“Good. Now reset.” She lets Ava set her feet. “Don’t forget to breathe this time. Exhale with your punch. It’ll loosen your muscles and create a more explosive force behind your punch. Now again.”

Beatrice hears Ava exhale with her punch. It echoes in her ears like a church bell - haunting and beautiful and ringing in her chest so loudly it sends small ripples through her body and into her hands. They shake on Ava’s waist as she tries to hold them still. She breathes in through her nose - pineapple and caramel and promise - and exhales against the back of Ava’s neck. 

Ava pulls back to a starting position almost immediately, already catching on to the rhythm.

“Again. Together.” she says, reduced to single words as Ava’s body moves under her hand back again. “Bend, twist, punch, hold.”

Beatrice turns with her this time– bends her knee, twists her hip, punches out beneath Ava’s arm. They stay poised like that, an arm outstretched and molded against Ava’s back. She thinks she’s trembling - it can’t be Ava. She can’t be feeling what Beatrice is feeling. This feeling is hers and hers alone.

But Ava isn’t breathing. Beatrice starts to pull away but Ava steps back into her. Beatrice feels her breath catch and she rushes to cover it with a cough. That gets stuck in her throat too, and she’s suspended weightless, her hands and arms and chest burning where they touch Ava.

Her hand slides down along the curve of Ava’s leg where it presses back into her. Touch, a voice in her mind whispers like silk. The hem of Ava’s too-short shorts catches on her fingernails. She can feel Ava’s back pocket against her palm and she knows the imprint it leaves might never go away even when it isn’t visible anymore. She nearly tucks the tips of her finger into it, a slight flicker of possession that almost overtakes her.

Ava steps away, the heat of her body gone as she puts space between them.

Beatrice feels her stomach tighten as Ava stands suspended in front of her, back facing Beatrice. She went too far. She took too much. But before she has too much time to think about it, Ava turns and clears her throat.

“What about when I fight your parents? Should I put power into that?”

The tension breaks. Beatrice breathes out a laugh.

A thrill still shoots up through her every time Ava makes some kind of casual threat regarding her parents. She doesn’t wish them harm. She doesn’t wish them anything at all. But there’s a certain niggling wonderment in the way Ava doesn’t hesitate to declare she’d go to war for Beatrice. It makes her feel wanted in the best way.

Beatrice exhales. “Yes, you should always put power into your punches.”

Ava seems to need a minute, something complicated crossing her face before it clears. “Maybe I’ll take up boxing.”

Beatrice leans into the subject change, needing to distance herself for a moment too. “Mary has a friend at the campus gym. Mateo. He’s a good teacher.”

“As good as you?” Ava shakes out her arms and legs. “Because I want the best.”

So you certainly wouldn’t want me, a voice not unlike her mother’s whispers. She smiles despite it. “Other people are far better teachers than I am.”

“But you’re my favorite.” Ava grins and rests her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders as she leans up and gently headbutts her. Beatrice frowns. “I saw a cat do that once. Means I like you.”

“Better than pulling my hair, I suppose. Or kicking me down on the playground,” Beatrice murmurs. Ava doesn’t hear her, already moving back to the counter where the hot water for their tea has gone tepid.

Ava busies herself with pulling down another mug and dumping out her own, turning the kettle back on. “I want to watch a kung fu movie.”

“I have homework,” Beatrice sighs.

Ava shrugs it off. “So we’ll do homework first and then watch a Bruce Lee movie. You can correct his form.”

Beatrice snorts. “He’s Bruce Lee. His form is impeccable. And we practice drastically different forms of martial arts.” She sighs at the look on Ava’s face. “But I’ll let you tell me what you think he should be doing, if you’d like.”

“It’s like you know me so well.” Ava leans back against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re my favorite person in the whole world, you know that? I’d punch Eduardo in the face for you, if you wanted me to.”

Beatrice does know. And it’s what makes everything so confusing. But it doesn’t stop her from loving the way it makes her feel any less.

“I’m quite certain I could punch Eduardo myself,” Beatrice says softly. “But that’s nice that you’re offering to punch a man I’ve never met.”

Ava shrugs. “So long as you know I’d fight anyone for you.” She puffs out her chest, resting her hands in the spaces where Beatrice’s had just been. She pitches her voice low. “The Halo will rescue any damsel in distress.”

“The Halo needs to maybe empty her backpack before the cream cheese in it goes bad.”

Ava’s face flushes and she darts for her backpack. Beatrice watches her openly and thinks, one day, I’ll let you rescue me. And I’ll hold on tightly if you let me.

–

It takes another hour before she’s done with her homework. Ava finishes in half that time but doesn’t rush her, passing her a highlighter when it rolls away from her and refilling her tea for her when she finishes it. And Ava puts away her shoes without the reminder, tucking them neatly on the shoe rack next to Beatrice’s running sneakers. 

Ava never rushes her, always lets her make her way through things the way she wants to. For someone who rushes through so much, her patience is another testament to the ways Ava has changed for her.

“Alright, so it’s between Enter the Dragon or Fist of Fury Part Two.”

Beatrice wrinkles her nose. “What about Fist of Fury Part One?”

“Can’t find that one.” Ava immediately slides towards her when Beatrice sits down, the sharp point of her knees digging into Beatrice’s thigh. She barely feels them. “So maybe Enter the Dragon? He’s hunting down a drug king who killed his sister.”

“Sure.” Beatrice doesn’t care what the movie is about. Not with the way that Ava is arranging herself so that she’s pressed in closer to Beatrice.

Ava is too busy selecting the movie to see the way that Beatrice is controlling the way she breathes, using all her training to keep it even. So busy that when she reaches out and takes Beatrice’s hand, dropping it onto her thigh, she doesn’t notice the way Beatrice fails spectacularly at the only thing she’s focused on doing.

Ava’s thigh is still muscled, still warm and smooth. Beatrice’s fingers curl over the skin, molding to her leg. There’s nothing between them, no denim shorts. Just Beatrice’s palm, sure to sweat in a minute, and Ava’s skin. 

She inhales one controlled breath, letting it out in a hot, quiet exhale. Ava looks at her and Beatrice forces a smile, hoping it doesn’t shake like she feels every nerve ending in her is. She must be succeeding; Ava smiles back at her and wiggles down towards her a little more. 

Touch is her newest love language. She’s still growing into it, still trying to understand it as well as Ava does. So maybe she didn’t go too far. Maybe she didn’t push too much. If she had, Ava wouldn’t be seeking her out, would she? She would be sitting across the couch, a cushion like an ocean between them. She wouldn’t be here, pressed into Beatrice’s side with her hand on top of hers. Maybe - as Ava smiles and scratches her fingernails against the back of her hand gently - Ava is trying to tell her that they’re thinking the same thing; they’re on the same page.

But she still doesn’t know for sure. She doesn’t have any more answers than she did before.

She thinks about the words Shannon told her, right after Ava’s coffee date with JC. “Be honest. Be direct. Tell her how you feel. If you never say anything, you’ll never know and you might just miss your chance.”

Ava has many love languages. Beatrice wants to love Ava in every one. 

“Just use your words, Beatrice.”

Maybe she just needs to adopt a new one.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #forever roommates #aka 3 times bea teaches ava through touch #everyone say thank you kay thank you kay #because the literal hours she spent with me working on this cannot be understated #but as per ush this got exponentially out of hand VERY quickly #why use 1 word when you could use 100? #it's a question i ask myself often #touch is a love language GUESS WHO IS LEARNING ALL ABOUT IT?! #the first time i tried to copy-paste the words the whole screen glitched #we persist!

[apollos-boyfriend]

duo name meanings: QSMP

TNT duo: quackity + wilbur

based on their dream smp characters.

in the dream smp, wilbur's character was heavily associated with TNT, having blown up his own nation. while not as heavily associated with the block, quackity used TNT a handful of times himself, attempting to destroy the egg with it and later going on to blow up purpled's UFO.

BBQ: quackity + badboyhalo

based on a combination of their names.

a semi-common thing for quackity's fanbase is to combine a name/theme of another streamer as opposed to an actual "duo" name. for example, quackity and karl are called honQ. the "BB" comes from the first two letters of "bbh" and the q from the first of "quackity".

loan shark duo: quackity + foolish

based on their dream smp characters.

a "loan shark" is someone who lends out money with extremely high interest rates, often to people they know will be unable to pay up. on the dream smp, quackity's last arc was partially based on him recruiting others to join his city, although his measures of recruitment tended to be extreme, such as blowing up someone's house, or in foolish's case, letting him die just to prove a point. additionally, the name borrows from foolish's skin having shark accessories/accentuation.

dap duo: quackity + slimecicle

based on their dream smp characters.

in the dream smp, charlie's character had a tendency of asking others to "dap him up!" quackity was the first person he'd interacted with, and therefore, the first person he asked that to, connecting the two despite slime going on to ask that of multiple other characters as well.

chaos duo: quackity + cellbit

based on their penchant for chaos.

quackity and cellbit tend to both have overdramatic moments that quickly spiral into chaos. quackity in particular can be unpredictable, both as a chracter and streamer.

crazy duo: quackity + forever

N/A

speculation: a parallel to quackity + cellbit's name of "insane duo".

duck duo: quackity + baghera

based on both of them being associated with ducks.

on top of quackity's name, his old avatar used to be the toontown duck. baghera's skin is a duck.

hammer duo: quackity + etoiles

based on an interaction between the two.

etoiles once hit quackity with a hammer. the name stuck.

quachu: quackity + nihachu

based on a combination of their names.

a semi-common thing for quackity's fanbase is to combine a name/theme of another streamer as opposed to an actual "duo" name. for example, quackity and karl are called honQ. quachu borrows the "qua" from quackity and "chu" from nihachu.

cabinet duo: quackity + tubbo

based on their dream smp characters.

on the dream smp, both quackity and tubbo were a part of jschlatt's presidential cabinet, trapped under a government that continuously abused them and their people. the two bonded over their unfortunate situations, and stuck up for each other when things got rough (which was often).

sand duo: wilbur + philza

based on wilbur's bit of eating sand.

during a hardcore stream, wilbur appeared in phil’s TTS, starting the conversation by going, "phil, have you ever eaten sand?", as phil was clearing draining a lava lake with sand and wilbur suggested eating it in order to get it to go faster. this bit would continue on for at least 14 minutes, with wilbur switching from TTS to vc to give phil (and chat) further insight about his sand-eating agenda.

cat duo: wilbur + jaiden

based on their interactions.

when the two met, cats were one of the first things they discussed and bonded over.

oxeye duo: wilbur + slimecicle

based on tommyinnit's lava ravine mod video.

during tommy's video, wilbur and charlie played a nonsensical game of placing items in the same chest and acting as if each had a specific attack, defense, layout, etc. one of the items they played was an oxeye daisy, which was also the last item wilbur gave to charlie before "going submersible."

honey duo: wilbur + roier

based on their flirting.

early on in the qsmp, wilbur referred to roier as "mi amor". in return, roier responded with, "i love you honey", or something to that effect.

streak/tetris duo: wilbur + cellbit

based on both of their characters having (had) white streamers in their hair / based on the streamers being known to play (and rage at) tetris.

when wilbur’s character was revived on the dream smp, he came back with a white streak. when cellbit was kidnapped by the federation, he woke up with a white streak.

despite both of them enjoying tetris, they've been known to be driven slightly insane when losing.

square duo: wilbur + felps

based on someone's dream.

the person who coined the duo name had a dream that felps was the first person wilbur ran into when he returned to the server, and the two got to know each other while breaking down felps' square.

father duo: wilbur + forever

based on their love for their kids.

despite being unable to be there, wilbur cares a lot for tallulah. if he could be present in her life, he would, as that little girl means the world to him. forever is largely regarded as one of the most protective parents, constantly fretting over richarlyson and telling him to put on his armor. he has a strong sense of protection over all the eggs, as well, as seen with the ninho project.

joy duo: wilbur + pac

based on the “lovejoy” name.

despite never meeting him, pac has been very eager for wilbur's return, and was one of the people most looking forward to his arrival when the "surprise party" billboards went up. this led to fans joking about how much he was acting like a fangirl, spiraling into the coining of joyduo.

rain duo: wilbur + nihachu

based on their origins smp characters.

on origins, wilbur was a phantom, and niki a merling. due to phantoms burning in the daytime and merlings being unable to exit the water, the only time the two were able to truly talk and bond with each other during the day was when it was raining.

quirky duo: wilbur + tubbo

based on their personalities.

both wilbur and tubbo are known to be quite eccentric. yeah that's all i got for this one.

hide duo: fit + pac

based on the hide and seek arena.

during a game of hide and seek, pac said goodbye to fit by calling him "big daddy", causing fit to panic and fumble so hard it took him multiple tries to find his warp point back home.

dad duo: philza + luzu

based on their paternal roles/influence.

luzu, of course, is a father in real life. while phil doesn't have any biological kids of his own, wilbur and tommy have essentially adopted themselves as his kids. wilbur has canonized this dynamic in at least three different smps, dubbing himself as phil's son in the dream smp, origins smp, and the qsmp.

death duo: philza + missa

based on their associations with death.

phil is commonly associated with death, or lack thereof, with his irl wife (kristin) canonically having been the goddess of death on the dream smp, as well as his reputation of being an unkillable hardcore player. he's been dubbed "the angel of death" on multiple servers; for being a killing machine on smpearth, and for his wife being the goddess of death on the dream smp. missa's connection comes from his skeletor skin and the different fandom interpretations of his character's appearance.

sugar duo: philza + forever

based on forever being phil's "sugar baby"

during the brazilians' first day on the server, phil took forever under his wing, giving him a bunch of items and supplies to help forever get started. forever was quick to dub phil his sugar daddy, and the name was shortened to just sugar for simplicity's sake.

codebreakers: philza + etoiles

based on their duel against the codes during the elections dinner.

when the codes attacked during the dinner, phil and etoiles were the two main fighters, and the only ones not to get teleported back by admins. additionally, the two of them have been the ones to most express their bloodthrist towards the codes, consistently challenging them to battles and calling them out for cowardly behavior.

goldfinch duo: foolish + jaiden

based on yellow birds.

in the words of its creator (@/inzerogravityy on twitter), "goldfinch is a yellow bird, and yknow jaiden is a bird person, and foolish is a totem that's made of gold which is yellow."

parrot duo: roier + jaiden

based on their habit of mimicking (ie “parroting”) each other.

contrary to popular belief, this has nothing to do with parrots, the bird. it’s because jaiden and roier have a tendency to mimic each other’s mannerisms/phrases! for example, roier’s insistence of hatsune miku being real comes from him hearing jaiden say so, and jaiden’s constant repetition of spanish phrases is because of spending so much time with roier.

rose/flower duo: cellbit + jaiden

based on cellbit’s visit to bobby fields.

when cellbit first visited jaiden's new house, he was very impressed and in awe of her build, to the point where he later admitted it nearly made him cry. jaiden's house, and bobby fields itself, is covered in roses, and recently, cellbit has also decorated his own home with them.

bird duo: baghera + jaiden

based on both of them being associated with birds.

baghera’s skin is a duck, and jaiden is well-known for being a bird lover, having two birds of her own irl. additionally, q!jaiden has been assigned as an avian by the larger fandom.

land duo: foolish + badboyhalo

based on their dream smp characters.

during the l’sandberg arc, bad had created a nation within foolish’s summer home and claimed its independence, despite foolish’s constant protests. multiple land disputes broke out between the two over toll gates, cacti, supreme fridges, and more, culminating in foolish blowing up l’sandberg. this rivalry between them has extended to the qsmp, as well, with bad consistently monitoring foolish’s builds and whether he has “permission” to build on those lands or not. 

theory duo/bros: maximus + badboyhalo

based on them being the original theorists.

before cellbit founded the order, maximus and bad were the first to start theorizing that something was wrong with the island, and the first to truly start digging deeper into what the federation was hiding.

gossip duo: cellbit + badboyhalo

based on their penchant for gossiping.

bad is not only a known gossiper, but known to start trouble just so he has more gossip to spread around. cellbit, while not as extreme, also enjoys his fair share of gossip, and the two have shared multiple gossip sessions over their fellow server members.

lamp duo: badboyhalo + baghera

based on bad gifting baghera a lamp.

during an investigation, bad gifted baghera a blue lamp. not only was this a pretty big thing considering q!bad's penchant for stealing and hoarding furniture, but also because the lamp was blue, ie skeppy-colored. bad tends to be especially protective and territorial over blue furniture, so gifting it to baghera was truly a testament of their friendship and how much he trusted her.

sweet duo: badboyhalo + etoiles

based on their interactions.

despite being some of the server's strongest and most decked-out warriors, etoiles and bad are total sweethearts to each other, as well as most of the other server members.

build duo: foolish + vegetta

based on their building prowess.

vegetta and foolish were some of the first on the qsmp to take up the idea of a large, intricate base, both taking it upon themselves to build massive towers. both players are known for their building outside of the qsmp itself.

castle/simp duo: cellbit + vegetta

based on their builds / based on their love for their partners.

both vegetta and cellbit have quite impressive bases, with vegetta's tower having since expanded outwards and cellbit's own castle.

people know not to mess with foolish because that would incite vegetta's wrath, and no one wants to ever be on his bad side. he's provided foolish with multiple illegal items because he loves him so much. alternatively, cellbit is absolutely whipped for roier. he absolutely short-circuits whenever his husband is around, and would do anything to ensure his safety/happiness.

misclick duo: mariana + slimecicle

based upon unfortunate canon events.

both mariana and charlie have ended up accidentally killing eggs by misclicking, whether it be by destroying their bed or by sweeping edge damage.

glass duo: roier + slimecicle

based on an ongoing bit of charlie breaking roier’s windows. 

charlie has a habit of entering buildings by breaking the nearest window instead of walking all the way to the front door, a habit that was especially noticeable in roier’s house. not only did charlie visit a lot, often breaking multiple windows during one visit as he came in and out of the house, but roier would have a notable reaction, likely due to the different norms between american and hispanic servers. 

backfly duo: vegetta + slimecicle

based on the combining of "backflip" and "fly".

charlie and vegetta once jumped down from the top of vegetta's tower with their gliders, attempting to see how many backflips charlie (el backflippo) could do before hitting the ground. the answer was 6.

green duo: mike + slimecicle

based on the green of their skins.

both charlie and mike have green as the most prominent color of their skin, with mike's eyes, shirt, boxers, and shoes, and charlie's eyes, shirt, br'aad's sash, and slime.

fonduo: slimecicle + baghera

based on their conversation on debate day.

baghera and charlie spent a good while talking about fondue together. more specifically, gruyere, as charlie couldn't manage to say it properly and kept asking baghera for assistance.

guapo duo: roier + cellbit

based on their communities' initial reactions to the other.

when cellbit was first added to the qsmp and outside communities got acquainted with him, roier's community (+ roier himself) were quick to talk about how handsome he is. in return, cellbit's community was also quick to highlight how handsome roier is, and the two grew a fast but unbreakable bond.

(la) realidad duo: roier + forever

based on the two discussing “the reality” of latin america. 

when forever was building the multiple bus stops + roads to the favela, he encountered roier in front of the oxxo. him and roier got to talking about “la realidad” (the reality) of living in latin america, destroying the road to be pull of pot holes and uneven terrain, as that is “la realidad” for most areas. they have since continued this bit, still keeping it to centering around the reality of latin american life.

ohnana duo: maximus + forever

based on the ongoing "oh nana" bit.

while the entire server has gotten into the "oh nana" bit at one point or another, maximus and forever are by far the most involved. everyone else has mostly dropped the bit and will only do it when a large group is involved, but forever and maximus have essentially turned it into a greeting between the two of them.

insane duo: cellbit + forever

based on their behavior.

cellbit is known to drive himself insane and go to extreme lengths to solve whatever puzzle has been put in front of him. forever is known to drive himself insane with projects that anyone else would balk at, such as copacabana and ninho. on top of that, they just drive each other insane and to the extreme.

smart/genius duo: baghera + cellbit

based on their penchant for enigmas.

baghera and cellbit have gotten very involved in the server's mysteries and uncovering the truth. they're both very smart and have keen eyes, especially when paired together.

smooth duo: pac + felps

based on their flirting and demeanor.

in comparison to the other brazilians, pac and felps are by far the calmest of the group. additionally, they're "smooth" flirters, having even kissed during festa junina.

piranha duo: pac + forever

based on both of their characters being flirts.

in portuguese, “piranha” is slang for a woman that sleeps around. both forever and pac have become semi-infamous for flirting with the other server members. 

mean girls duo: baghera + forever

based on mean girls, the movie.

baghera and forever are known to provoke and poke fun at each other constantly. they also have a penchant for gossiping and talking shit, although largely as a light-hearted joke and nothing actually serious. additionally, baghera and forever's characters are both blond, fitting the usual "mean girl" stereotype.

pacman duo: pac + etoiles

based on both of them having pac-man associations.

both etoiles and pac have a pac-man symbol on the front of their shirt/hoodie.

baguette duo: nihachu + tubbo

N/A

green box duo: tubbo + philza

based on their dream smp characters.

the backstory for c!tubbo was that he was found on a box on the side of the road by philza. the "green" was added due to both of their skins having green as a major color.

beets duo: tubbo + foolish

based on their dream smp characters.

to "fix" his consistent issue of starvation, tubbo decided to build a beet farm to have a consistent source of food. foolish ended up jumping in on the bit, and soon enough, a fairly notable area of the greater dream smp had been turned into a glorified beet farm.

#icarus speaks #duos spreadsheet #jesus CHRIST this took longer than i thought it would #largely bc i kept getting sidetracked #i'd go to look for the origin of one thing then BOOM. i fidn another duo name #and have to go on a 10 minute deep dive to see if it's actually used or not. and if so who it's for #long post

[another-lost-mc]

Can we hear about Simeons missexts please? I love chaos

➤ adventures with technology: sexting | simeon

nsfw | gn!reader | other characters briefly mentioned

cw: mentions of (attempted) dirty talk/messages; sending/receiving dirty pics (badly)

— He likes to use proper spelling/grammar when he texts, but he'll get more lax about it when he's too horny to care.

— It takes him a while to realize that the software autocorrects things. He's texted I wanna duck you so bad more times than you can count which is a bit of a mood killer.

— (He gets flustered when you send him random duck emojis to tease him about it later.)

— He switches the keyboard to one of the demonic languages by accident. He can read some of the old tongues, you can't read any at all. It's really embarrassing when he hands his phone over to someone to fix it for him because he knows what they'll see if they peek at his message history to you. (It's usually a variation of where and how he wants fuck you.)

— He's bad at taking pictures. His selfies are usually blurry and out of focus.

— His sexy selfies and dick pics are even worse. He has trouble getting the angle right, or he leaves the flash on and it illuminates his cock in a harsh light that isn't very appealing.

— Sometimes when he tries to take a dick pic, he turns the front-facing camera on by accident so instead of his glorious angel cock, you see a blurry shot of his face, brows furrowed and hair falling haphazardly across his face while he concentrates.

— He forgets how to send you the pics/videos. He's too embarrassed to ask anyone else for help. You wrote up a little how-to guide in his Notes app, but he forgot how to access that too.

— The next time you see him, he hands you his D.D.D. and lets you look through them in-person.

— (This has the added benefit of having you within arm's reach when you get a little hot and bothered after you look at them together.)

— He likes it when you send him dirty voice messages or recordings of yourself, but he forgets how to adjust the volume on his D.D.D. so sometimes it starts blaring through the speakers. (He stopped trying to listen to these anywhere but the privacy of his room.)

— He has sent photos to the wrong contact in his phone by accident. He has also sent them in group chats too.

— (Mammon keeps a betting pool going about how long it'll be until Simeon's next dick pic screw-up.)

— As a joke, the others will sometimes mess around with Simeon's phone settings on purpose when he asks them for help with something else completely unrelated. He still can't figure out why it sends you 🍆 emojis whenever he types the word cock.

— One evening they changed your contact name in his phone to Michael for a laugh. The next morning, Simeon sent "you" a detailed text about what he dreamt about the night before:

Good morning, love. You looked breathtaking at the dance last night. I wish you could've spent the night here with me. I woke up hard just thinking about how gorgeous you were. Your skin is so soft, I'd love to feel your thighs squeezing around my cock right now. Tpying wit one hand isso tedious, can yoou call me ijnstead? I want you to hear me when i come

— He thought "your" reaction was an attempt to be coy and teasing at first, until he realized he wasn't talking to you at all. Needless to say, no one else has tried to pull that kind of stunt again.

— (The archangel is also growing increasingly concerned about the Devildom's influence, and yours, on Simeon.)

#obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #simeon x reader #simeon smut #obey me smut #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader

[thewriterg]

♡︎𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭♡︎

Pairing(s): Rocket x Fem!reader, Baby!Groot x Fem!reader, Rocket x Groot

Summary: Even with your Ship practically on the verge of tearing apart you couldn’t stay mad at the little sprout who caused such chaos especially when he offers the most sentimental piece anyone could offer —flufftober day; 20—

Word count: 1.1k+

Warning(s): Fluff, the cutest family ever, and language

A/n:—GIFs aren’t— I was watching the ‘I am groot’ series and he’s so freaking cute!? Also I saw this video on top of it and my heart was set on this. Also dad Rocket?! *chef kiss

A loud bang along with crashes erupted along the ship while bolts and screws fell from the ceiling along with a thin layer of dust and debris fell to the floor that had your eyes shooting open while they followed to your floating shelf that acted as a nightstand reading your clock

3:27am

You didn’t even think to use the ladder the sat connected to the front of your bed before hopping of the side of the frame using the rail that kept you from falling off the mattress before letting go your feet hitting the floor with barely any sound

You didn’t even think to use the ladder the sat connected to the front of your bed before hopping of the side of the frame using the rail that kept you from falling off the mattress before letting go your feet hitting the floor with barely any sound

Rocket stirred awake a bolt that had landed next to his temple interrupting his peaceful sleep while drool feel down the corners of his snout, his hair smushed and tangled together

“What the hell is going on” He groaned his voice gruff scratching his cheek looking around the dimly lit room that never went dark just in case Groot had needed to make his way into the comfort into either of yours arms or wanted to go lay in his second bed in the corner that was filled with leaves and vibrant vines that slid up the wall and continued up the wall

Neither were ever rare.

“I don’t know but I can assure it’s something we don’t want to deal with at 3:00 In the morning” You sighed walking to the door that was already cracked open before opening it fully looking down the hallway before you gasped

“It came from Groot’s room!” You we’re already halfway down the hallway before Rocket could even respond as he began to run after you into the baby trees room alarms blaring as he followed

The door was off its hinges laying in the middle of the hallway a hole blown through it’s middle while smoke slipped from the room out into the hall that had you lightly coughing as you continued to walk through it you’d seen worse

“Groot! Groot are you okay!? Are you hurt, Are you alive something!?” Rocket called out his tone laced with so much worry you knew he was having heart palpitations hell you were having heart palpitations

Rocket wouldn’t admit it out loud but you both were his everything. He’d die for you, kill for you, steal for you, anything because you were all that mattered in the end.

“Oh there you are” You could hear the relief in Rockets door as you both entered the room fully a large hole in the floor while Groot kneeled above it attempting to duck tape it shut

“Did you remove the fuel rods!? How did you get the walls wet and on fire” Rocket had yelled frantically his eyes scattering around the room as he rubbed his temples his fur beginning to stick up in different directions before you shushed him softly squatting to his level holding out you arms which he climbed on taking his position to stand on your shoulders

“Groot why does it look like a bomb went off in here?” You questioned standing back to your full height sweatpants resting against your waist and a sports bra secure around your torso

“I am Groot” The tree simply responded a almost proud look plastered on his face still crouching down on his potion on the floor

“A bomb did go off?” Rocket repeated out loud from the position on your shoulders before sliding down your body his nails gripping the fabric to assures he didn’t fall but not enough to rip the fabric

“What were you thinking!?”

Groot began to frown now standing up on both of his feet looking towards the floor while Rocket could feel your burning gaze in the back of his head having told him plenty times that you needed to encourage soft parenting and reasonable discipline

“Don’t give me that look, don’t think you’re getting out of this by being cute” You noticed Rocket had fixed his approached and you couldn’t help but let a small smile slip on your face

“What is this, more trash? It better be a written apology” Rocket muttered to himself in the Result of Groot handing him a piece of paper while he squinted at first before pulling out his reading glasses placing them on the beginning of his snout

The picture was of Groot holding the both of you tightly in his arms while you embraced him back all with bright smiles on your face rockets tails make of small twigs, while leaves had been used for your hair, all of you having googly eyes

“Look how big you are” Rocket muttered a smile on his face that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn’t be able to hide

“Groots it’s adorable you did so well” You added bringing a hand to your chest in disbelief finally meeting his big doe eyes while he moved closer to you both at your feet

“This is very nice, we should get it framed. Put it up on the fridge” Rocket agreed a wide grin never leaving his face before Groot ran to you both extending his arms as the picture showed as you hugged both boys in return you could feel Rocket stiffen before relaxing and briefly mirroring your actions

“I can’t stay mad at you can I?” Rocket chuckled one hand on the tiny surface of groots shoulder and his other arm wrapped around your lower back

Groot giggled childishly before rushing out of the hug and door continuing down the hallway to your room while Rocket for once stayed still taking a moment to breathe by your side

“He gets that from you y’know?” You gestured to around the room and then the door a small smirk on your face

“Yea and he gets all the mushy shit from you” He added nudging your shoulder before finally standing to his full height you following in suite

“Better than taking after anyone else then yea?” It was more of a statement than a question as you both made your way back to your shared room to see the little tree lied on your pillow sleeping broken off branches he’d used to climb blocking Rockets way to get to his own bed

“It’s about to get even more mushy honey” You teased before climbing up to your bed while the Groot subconsciously scooted closer towards you while Rocket followed grumpily In suite muttering about how he didn’t have time for this and would deal with it in the morning

Groot lied in between the both of you smiling as you cradled him close parenting was bittersweet but moments like these made it so worth it.

#i am groot #groot x reader #baby groot #rocket and groot #marvel groot #rocket x reader #rocket x groot #rocket the raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #the avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #kinktober #flufftober #romance #fluff #fall 2022 #fem!reader #i love you #thewriterg

[tooearlyforthis]

Survivor | Steve Harrington

Pairing: bf!Steve Harrington x reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Synopsis: Months after Outbreak Day, Y/n comes across a group of survivors that might just change her life.

Warnings: tlou!au, established relationship, fluff

I don't talk about this on here but TLOU is literally my favorite video game of all time so, this story kind of just happened...enjoy!

Click here to see my masterlist

Amidst the shattered remains of a world in chaos, Y/n’s only hope was Chicago. 

It started as a rumor she heard weeks ago. A safe haven for all those who had survived Outbreak Day. She didn’t know if she believed it at first; how could anywhere be safe now? Infected over-ran most places nowadays.

But with the middle of Indiana getting worse by the day, it seemed like her only option. Part of her was still holding back, not wanting to travel far away from what used to be her home. People could still be there, her boyfriend could still be alive...

It had been months since she had seen him- since that fateful day everything went to shit. She knew the probability that he was alive was slim. That staying within the county would only put her in more danger. So if Chicago could provide a sense of normalcy, that’s where she would go. 

Her clothes were battered. A tear in her shirt, a hole in her boot. She needed to find more supplies. One pit stop wouldn’t hurt right?

Walking down the barren road, she followed an old map to where there should still be a mall. It was a risky move, going to a large place like that; but she knew she could handle it. She had found a bow and arrows a while back, perfect for a stealthy kill. And on top of that, a shotgun and pistol modified for steadier aiming. 

The mall was still intact. Which meant somewhere amongst the collapsed stores had to be never before-worn clothes. With one deep breath, she pushed the front doors open, bracing herself for what would be inside.

She was careful, stepping over glass and fallen beams in case any infected were inside. The flashlight she carried shined through the darkness like a sniper with a rifle. She made sure to keep a low stance, almost crouching as she made her way from store to store. 

It was the way hunters moved when they stalked their prey. 

Before Outbreak Day, her dad liked to show off the guns he owned. He liked using them to scare off boyfriends as they entered the house. Claiming if they stayed they were worthy to date his daughter.

But when he wasn't scaring off potential lovers, he would take Y/n  and her brother, Henry, hunting. It was almost always during duck season and she always dreaded it. But after the world had gone to shit, she was grateful for the lessons. 

Most of the stores in the mall were proving to be useless. Leftover hotdog stands and collectible shops that had no use in the new state of the world. Finally, she came across the tattered directory. Scanning it quickly, she followed the path to the nearest clothing store. 

It was a Merry-Go-Round. Not her first choice but it would do. The store was in shambles, as expected. Mannequins discarded, clothes strewn across the ground. It looked better than other places she visited, but still, it would talk a while to find something good. 

Starting in the men’s section, she opted to look through the clothes still left on the rack. Thin vests, blazers, and dress shirts- not ideal. There were still some piles of clothes that looked to be okay. 

Crouching down, she began to shift through them. It looked like most of the goody stuff was already picked through. There were some shirts that would be perfect for her, if not for the gaping holes on the torso. 

But finally, after what felt like endless piles of clothes, she found something decent. Holding the shirt up, it was illuminated by her flashlight. It was long sleeves with thick fabric- something durable for the long winter ahead. 

The color reminded her of the present she bought for her father's birthday on Outbreak Day. And in the silence of the dark mall, she couldn't help but let her mind drift back to that fateful afternoon. 

🏹🏹🏹

“This all for today, miss?” asked the girl at the front desk. She carefully placed the sweater picked out for her father in a box.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Y/n responded, handing over a wad of cash.

The cashier took it, putting it in the register and picking out her change. She watched as the girl struggled to keep her hands steady, trying to pick up her quarters. Some fell to the ground below them, clinging against the shiny tile.

“You feeling okay?” Y/n asked, trying to be polite more than anything else.

“Yes!” the girl exclaimed, quick to respond. 

“Maybe you’re coming down with a cold or something, I heard it’s been going around.”

“Yeah, something like that.” She held out her shaky hand for Y/n to take. “Sorry about that, have a great day.”

“You too,” Y/n replied with a smile, waving the worker a goodbye as she exited the store. Starcourt Mall was a lot busier since summer had started. The pathways filled with kids, couples on dates, and even some out of town visitors. 

Moving through the crowd, she made her way to the store her boyfriend worked in. He had started just two weeks before and wanted to wish him luck. Disappointed he wasn’t there yet, she began her walk to her car. 

It was a nice day out, nicer than it had been in weeks prior. Trying to find the keys to her car, she heard a voice call out to her. 

“I thought that was you!”

Turning around, she could see her boyfriend smiling at her as he approached the car. She couldn’t help but blush at what he was wearing. 

Giving him a quick kiss she leaned back and said, “Nice uniform.”

He cocked his head. “I can’t tell if that was sarcasm or a compliment.”

“Can it be both?”

Laughing, he pulled away from her, gripping the water bottle he was carrying. “Are we still on for tonight? Dinner and a movie?”

“Yep! I have to drop my brother off somewhere and then I’m all yours.” She leaned in close to his ear to whisper, “And wear the uniform.”

“Okay, now you’re just being mean.”

Giggling, she said, “I’m serious!”

“Mhm, sure.” He began to move away, checking his watch. “Shit, I start soon. I’ll pick you up. 6 o’clock?”

“Can’t wait.”

She watched as her boyfriend jogged off, hoping to make it to his shift in time before she got into her car. She lived a short distance from the mall, making it home in record time.

But there was something off when she stepped out of the car. The side gate to the backyard was creaked open. Her family never left it unlocked. 

Y/n threw her present on the passenger seat, approaching the gate with caution. Hawkins was a small town, and except for the two deaths in recent years prior, nothing bad had ever happened. 

Still, she kept her guard up. 

As the grassy backyard came into view, nothing seemed out of place. The shed was still locked, the glass door to the house was shut; the lounge chairs weren't moved an inch. 

Creak….

The sound of wood echoed through the backyard. She looked up at the tree house built above. 

“Henry? Is that you?” she called out to which there was no response. Henry was the only one in the family that would go up there. So if it wasn’t him…

Hastily, she moved to the gun shed, pulling out her set of keys - her dad gave her a spare in case of emergencies. She grabbed a knife, hoping it would be enough protection.

Returning to the tree house, she began to ascend the stairs. They were rickety as she reached the top; she tightened her grip to make sure she didn’t fall. Gripping the knife with one hand, she used her other to push the hatch open.

As the room came into view, she could spot a figure in the corner. She held up her weapon, ready to protect herself when she heard a whimper. They were holding their knees to their chest, rocking back and forth in a soothing motion. Her shoulders relaxed when she realized who it was.

“Henry,” she said softly, lowering the knife. “What’s wrong? Why are you up here?"

He picked up his head and she could see tears streaming down his face. “M-mom and dad…”

“Oh my god are you hurt? Let me go get them-”

“-No!” he shouted as she turned to leave. It was quiet for a moment as his eyes darted across the wooden floor. “Something….happened to them.”

Y/n felt her heart sink, automatically fearing the worst. “Stay here,” she sternly spoke. “I’ll go see what’s wrong.”

“No, Y/n please stay.”

“It’ll just be a minute okay?”

“No don’t go!” he yelled but she was already climbing down the stairs. 

She reached for the sliding back door, surprised to see it was unlocked. Yanking it open, the light from outside began to seep through the parted curtains. With the grip on her knife still tight, she stepped inside. 

She could hear the soft hum of boiling water in the kitchen, signs that someone had been there recently. 

Turning to her left, she approached the stove. The water was almost toppling over the pot, two eggs sitting on the counter ready to tossed in. With no signs of her parents anywhere, she decided to turn it off. 

There were plates still on the kitchen table. Half-eaten pancakes from breakfast that morning which were never cleaned up. Where could they have gone? Why was her brother so afraid? 

There was a vibration, almost a grumble, coming from the pantry; its wooden doors slightly ajar. She couldn’t see too far into it, blackness encasing the dry food. Reaching out she opened the doors all the way and turned on the light.

The room lit up, the shelves of canned food and snacks becoming  visible. In the center, her mother stood, hunched over with her back facing Y/n. 

“Mom?” she asked softly. There was no recognition as the grumbling continued. 

Reaching out her hand, she placed it on her mother’s shoulder. That seemed to do the trick. Suddenly, she turned around and screamed, the horrid sound erupting from her throat. Y/n stumbled backwards in shock, landing on the cold kitchen floor. 

Looking up, she could see that the woman before her wasn’t her mother. At least, it wasn't anymore. Her skin was drained of color, almost gray apart from the veins tracing down her figure. Her eyes were beat red and looked as if she had a horrid case of pink eye.

Y/n asked again, “Mom?”

Her "mother" screeched, lunging forward to attack her, its yellow teeth on full display. Y/n got up fast, running through the house, trying to see if her dad was anywhere insight. Seeing a head from the back of the couch, a sense of urgency rushed through her. 

She reached forward, tapping her father’s shoulder. “Dad, you gotta help. Something happened to mom-”

Screeeeeech

A scream scored from her father’s mouth as he stood up. Turning around, Y/n could see no recognition of her father. He too stood disheveled, beat red eyes and ice cold skin. 

Whatever was happening, it took her father too.

Her mother, still hot on her tail, dived into the room. Y/n swerved, watching as her parents collided with each other. They fell backwards, onto the glass coffee table which shattered on impact. 

She thought that would be the end of it. But it was as if the weren't hurt. They both stood up and scanned the room for their daughter. 

Sucking in one last breath, she ran. She jumped through the back door, the sounds of her parents clawing behind her. 

With a quick turn she locked the door, closing it in time for her parents to collide with the glass. They clawed, banged and scraped against the glass, their mouths pressed against it.

It was only a matter of time before it broke.

“Henry!” Y/n called out. “Come down now!”

“But mom and dad-” He protested. 

“I don’t know what happened, okay? But we need to leave. Use the side door, my car is unlocked in the driveway.”

“But-”

“NOW!” 

Not asking again, she watched as her brother descended the rickety steps. He bolted toward the back gate. 

Y/n ran toward the shed. She already had a knife tucked away in her pocket, but she needed something more. Something that would ensure their safety from whatever was happening.

She grabbed the shotgun, pistol, and as many bullet cases as she could carry. Shoving them into her pocket, she ran as fast as she could through the backyard. 

There was a crash from her left, the glass sliding door breaking. She shielded her eyes from the shattering glass and tried her best to not trip over her own feet. The gate was in sight. Just a few steps more and she would be safe. But the screams of her parent’s grew closer. Turning, she could see they were fresh on her trail. 

Without thinking, she fired the shotgun, straight into her fathers chest. He stuttered backwards before standing up straight. 

The bullet had barely affected him. 

Running fast, she bursted through the gate, stumbling for the keys in her pocket. She could see her brother waiting by the passenger door waiting to be let in. 

Gripping her keys, she opened her door, clicking the button to unlock her brother’s. He raced inside, reaching back out to shut his door when their mother bolted. 

The scream was enough to make him freeze, her arms grasping at any part of him she could get. Henry yelped, trying to pry himself away.

“Y/n help!”

Without a second to spare, she raised the pistol and fired. One shot through her mother’s head. Her heart dropped to her stomach, watching as her mother’s lifeless body slumped to the floor of the car.

Henry froze, holding back tears as their dad came barreling out of the gate. Quickly, she pushed her mother out of the car, closing the side door and driving away. Her adrenaline was pumping, her body moving faster than her mind. 

“Y-you shot mom,” Henry said with a whimper.

“She…” Y/n didn’t know how to respond. “That thing wasn’t our mom, at least not anymore.”

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” They turned out of the street, driving almost aimlessly as she tried to think of a place to go. As they moved toward the denser part of town, she saw people emerge from their homes. Suitcases loading into trunks and distant yells she couldn’t make out. “Whatever happened, it looks like we weren’t the only ones.”

🏹🏹🏹

Letting her memories drift away, she shoved the new shirt into her back and headed toward the shoes. There was a giant hole in her left boot held together only by duct tape. 

Crouching down again, she began to sort through. There were sandals and high heels, every shoe that was not fitted for an apocalypse. She was about to grab another box when a noise sounded from behind her.

She recognized it immediately - a clicker. Quickly, she moved behind a chair, a hand on the bow on her back.

After a couple months of surviving in this new world, the people who turned got worse. They started as “runners,” fast moving and ready to strike. But soon, turned into something much worse. 

Their pace slowed,  faces falling apart as cordyceps grew through. They stopped using their eyes and started relying on their ears. Any sound could alert them, so moving slow was vital. 

There were things worse than a clicker - stalkers, bloaters and shamblers. But a clicker needed to be shot in the head - that was the tricky part.

Peering up from behind her chair, Y/n tried to pinpoint where the clicker was. It was dark, almost too dark to make anything out, but she spotted it. Inching forward, using its echo location to track its prey. But she wouldn’t be prey today.

Slowly standing up, she drew her bow and an arrow from her back, bringing it up to strike. She could use a gun, but there was no telling what else could be lurking nearby. Not something she wanted to risk, she pulled the bow tighter until her hand was flush against her cheek.

One arrow, that’s all she needed. With a deep breath, she let it loose, watching as it flew through the air, piercing the clicker right in its head. It fell to the ground, letting out one last cry before going silent. 

Y/n sighed as she walked over to make sure it was dead. It was; lying still on the ground next to a shoebox. Squatting down, she opened it, happy to find a pair of combat boots in almost perfect shape. She was about to grab them when the sound of glass echoed from behind her. 

Something is here. 

Without thinking, she shot up from the ground and readied her bow to strike. 

“Don’t shoot, we're friendlies!” 

Her flashlight shined across what made the noise. It was a girl, probably around her age with light brown hair and freckles splayed across her face. Next to her, a boy, around 14 with a trucker hat masking his curly hair underneath.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” the girl said, her arms raised on either side of her head.

“How do I know that?” Y/n asked, not trusting a word from the strangers across from her. Next to her, the boy slowly raised his hands and she could spot him holding a revolver. She aimed her bow at him. “Drop the gun.”

He stayed still, not listening to her words as he squinted from the shine of her flashlight.

“I said drop it!” she repeated.

The girl shouted at him. “Henderson, drop it!”

“Fuck okay!” the boy, Henderson, shouted. Letting the revolver hit the glass below their feet. 

“We mean no harm,” the girl said again. “Just passing through for supplies.”

Y/n directed the bow back at her. They did nothing that proved they were going to hurt her. But after months of traveling through the state, months of running into awful people. It was hard to trust anybody.

“Please just- lower the bow,” the girl asked.

“I don’t know if-”

BOOM!

There was an explosion behind them. The wooden panels of the try-on closets collapsing. Y/n covered her mouth to stop herself from inhaling any dust. As she did so, a low grumble emerged from the ruins. Looking up she spotted it. 

There are worse things than a clicker, and one of them was standing right in front of them.

“Bloater!” Henderson yelled, bending down to pick up his gun.

“Run!” the girl shouted. 

Y/n had no time to second guess their intentions, running after them. They headed toward the stationary escalator. She watched her steps, running down into the center courtyard of the mall. The grumble of the bloater was still loud, enough for her to know it was following them.

Waiting for the it to reach them, Henderson climbed up the empty water fountain. He was trying to get a better vantage point, poking his head around once up top. The girl was off to the side, shooting a runner who had emerged from all the noise. 

“You think you can fight?” the girl asked.

Nodding, she grabbed the shotgun off her back and reloaded it. “Of course,” she told them.

Henderson shouted from atop the fountain. “It’s coming!”

Looking over, the two girls watched as the bloater appeared at the stop of the escalator. It was bigger than she originally thought. Standing at almost seven feet, armored plates of fungus covering its body. It gripped a piece of fungus, pulling it off and launching it at them.

“Spore bomb!” she shouted, thinking it was too late. It hit Henderson, making him fall back off the tower of the fountain and into the empty cavern below. 

The bloater was already moving, descending the staircase as she fired shots at it. The girl threw something from behind her, a molotov. It exploded on impact with the infected monster. 

It stumbled back on the stairs, giving Y/n more time to reload her gun. But the monster was far from killed.

The girl launched another molotov, and then another, but it still wasn’t enough. The bloater threw another spore bomb at them. Y/n dodged out of the way at the last second, taking cover behind a bench. She fished through her bag, finally finding what she was looking for.

Standing up, she watched as the bloater began to charge. She threw a can right into its chest. It bounced off him, landing on the floor below its feet. The bloater paused for a moment, before ready to move on. 

But that’s when it went off. The can exploded, piercing the creature with hundreds of nails. Y/n walked forward, watching as it fell to the floor with one last dying breath. She walked up to it, examining the corpse to make sure it was gone for good. Thankfully, it was. 

Peering over her shoulder, she searched for her two new companions. The girl was kneeling before Henderson on the edge of the fountain, his leg pulled up to reveal a nasty burn.

“That was pretty cool,” the girl said, grabbing a bandage from her bag. “What was that?”

“A nail bomb,” Y/n replied. “Made it myself.”

“Shit really? We could use some of those. I’m Robin by the way. This is Dustin.”

“Y/n,” she greeted them, turning to Dustin. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I will be. We have more supplies back at base.”

“Are you alone?” Robin asked. Y/n nodded before she could think about how answering might not be the best move. “Our base is a few miles away. About 50 people but we have plenty of space. You’re welcome to join us if you want. Right Dustin?”

“Oh yeah,” the boy replied eagerly. “We could really use you. That was badass.”

Y/n smiled, looking down at her tattered boots. She was never able to grab those new shoes. “I-I’m supposed to be heading up north. To Chicago.”

“The safe house?” Robin asked to which she nodded. “It’s no good. Runners overtook it weeks ago. We heard it on the radio back at base.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah so…you wanna join? I promise we don’t bite.”

It was a tempting offer. A stable place with medical supplies? It didn’t get much better than that. Her plan was to head north, to make sure her brother was safe. But now, there was no point in going there, especially if it was overtaken with infected.

“Sure,” Y/n agreed, the grip on her backpack tightening. 

Dustin cheered. “Awesome! Though you guys might have to help me get out of here.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She moved to one side of the boy, Robin to the other. Together, they hoisted the boy up, letting him rest his arms on the backs of their shoulders. 

“Are you going to be able to walk that far?” she asked, reaching for the door at the exit of the mall.

“We have a car waiting out front,” Robin informed her. 

“Really?”

“Yeah we have a couple of them. Electricity and running water too.”

Together, they pushed on the heavy doors. Light shined through brighter than they had anticipated. Y/n brought a hand up to shield her eyes as they adjusted to the new surroundings.

“What happened?” asked a new voice. Y/n was quick to reach for her pistol but Robin was greeting the voice in a casual manner. She guessed he waited out front with the car.

“Bloater,” Robin informed the voice. 

Y/n finally let her eyes drift up to meet this new stranger, or at least she thought it was a stranger. In front of her stood none other than Sheriff Jim Hopper. She felt stunned, stopping as he moved forward to lift the boy up with ease.

“I don’t need to be carried, Hop!” Dustin shouted.

“It sure looks like it,” the sheriff responded, walking back toward the car. It was his truck, bold letters printing Hawkins Police on the side. 

Still in shock, Robin walked up to her. “You can put your stuff on the bed of the truck back there.”

Nodding she did so before climbing in the back with Dustin, Robin heading to the passenger seat. Once settled, she looked forward to see the Sheriff staring at her.

“You’re Sheriff Hopper, right?” she asked, needing to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

His eyes squinted. “Do I know you?” he asked before turning to look at Robin. “Who’s this?”

“This is Y/n,” the girl responded. “She helped us with the bloater there. Would’ve been toast without her.”

He turned back to her. “How do you know my name?”

Stumbling over her words, Y/n was finally able to say, “Y-you were the sheriff in my hometown. You know, before all this.”

Dustin’s head whipped toward her. “You’re from Hawkins?” She nodded. “So are we!”

“Really?”

“Holy shit what are the odds!”

As Hopper pulled out of the mall parking lot, he cranked his head back to address her. “Most of the people at our base are from Hawkins. Some from Bloomington, Stockdale, places nearby.”

“Cool,” she said, looking out the window at the trees passing by. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been in a working car. It was hard not to have hope, that someone she knew could be waiting at this compound for her. But the odds were still slim, even if there were people from her hometown. 

“Wait, did you go to Hawkins High?” Robin asked, looking back at her. 

“Yeah, I just graduated,” she told her.

“Oh my god we overlapped for three years! I wonder if we had any classes together.”

"Before we get into more chit chat," Hopper interrupted. He angled his head to address Y/n. "You're alone? No one is tracking your movements?"

Y/n sighed, looking down at her lap. "Yeah," she said mournfully. "I'm alone."

🏹🏹🏹

“Are you sure this is safe?” Henry asked as he limped up to the front door.

It was a suburban home, just outside of town. The white exterior made it seem friendly, more approachable.

“Yeah, Aunt Margaret is out of town, remember?” Y/n replied, scanning the front porch. “There should be a key around here somewhere…” Lifting a rock, she spotted it. “Here!”

The house was still intact, nothing out of place. Y/n let her shoulders slump, relieved to find a place that wasn’t overrun with…well, whatever was out there. They passed more people on the way to their aunt's house. Some were screaming, others tried to run to their car…

Something was happening and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Sit on the couch,” she told her brother. “I’m going to look for stuff to disinfect that wound.”

Nodding, she watched as her brother limped over, a trail of blood left behind from his right leg. She searched through the kitchen for anything to clear his wound. There were paper towels, pain killers, but no first aid kit in sight. 

Making do with what she had, she grabbed anything she thought could be useful. When she went back to her brother, she saw he had turned on the tv, an emergency broadcast playing on every channel.

“This is a national broadcast. Warning: stay inside, don’t answer the door for anyone. There have been reports of crazed people. Stay away from anyone that has been bitten….This is a national broadcast-”

She felt her brother shiver from his spot next to her. Instinctively, she wrapped her arm around him. “Hey,” she consoled, “everything is going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” he replied softly, his head lowered to the ground. 

There was a look on his face that she couldn’t quite place. It wasn't fear or shock, but almost an acceptance. An acceptance that the world had gone to shit and there was nothing they could do to stop it. 

Rather than lie to the impressionable boy, she opted to say, “...no I don’t. But I have faith that we will be okay. And that’s all I can do.”

His eyes finally drifted up to meet hers, that same look across his face. His lips pressed together forming a tight line before he finally exhaled. Without another word, he lifted his pant leg.

Peering down, she felt her breath hitch. Plain as day, was an outline of a bite mark etched into his calf. The blood that had trickled down his leg was already dry. It covered up veins that had already begun to pulse rapidly. 

Y/n’s mouth fell open, not able to form anything to say. Stay away from anyone that has been bitten. Those words from the broadcaster echoed in her mind. 

“You may have faith,” Henry began, “But I don’t.”

🏹🏹🏹

The ride to their base was short. 

Robin pestered her with all sorts of questions. What classes she took, and where she lived. They did end up having a class together. Ceramics her sophomore year. 

As they turned down a dirt road, Hopper informed Y/n they were almost there. 

“You’re gonna love it,” Robin told her. “There are others that went to Hawkins high too. Maybe 5 of us. One that just graduated as well, you might know him.”

“Yeah, maybe…” she replied. “I stuck mostly to myself though; I doubt I would recognize anybody.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Look, there it is!” Dustin exclaimed, pointing out his window. 

Leaning over next to him, she peered out to look at the base. It was a tall square building with a fenced perimeter. Most of the windows were still intact, the ones that weren’t were patched up with wooden planks. On the side of the building, decrepit letters that used to read Roann Laboratory. 

“It was a research lab, before all this,” Hopper said. “I was here when it all went down. Fortified it. We’ve been here since then.”

Approaching the gate, Hopper waved through the window to a guard. They waved back, pressing a button to open the gate for them. 

“Shit, you really do have electricity,” she commented. 

“We found a way to turn the power plant back on a few months ago. Barely had any infected encounters since then.” 

“That’s amazing.”

Driving around to the far side of the building, the truck pulled into the giant garage doors. It was clear it used to be some loading area. but now, watching as the doors lifted, she could see regular cars parked inside.

The truck came to a stop, Hopper moving out quickly, to grab Dustin who was still insisting he was fine to walk. 

Robin turned to her. “Grab your stuff and I’ll show you around.”

Y/n nodded, pushing open the door and moving to the truck bed. Her stuff had rolled around but she found that nothing was too out of place. From the front of the car, she could hear someone approaching them.

“What happened to Dustin?” said the male voice. It sounded familiar.

“Spore burn,” Robin replied. “We ran into a bloater.”

“Shit, is he okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad. Could have been worse but the newbie helped kill it.”

“Newbie?”

“Yeah, ran into this girl at the mall, helped out big time. Another Hawkins survivor, believe it or not.” She could hear Robin shout for her. “Hey, where’d you go?”

“Just grabbing my bag!” Y/n yelled back, stepping out from behind the truck.

It was as if time stopped. 

Her eyes drifted up, landing on the guy standing next to Robin. The realization of who it was almost too much to handle. She felt herself inhale sharply, trying hard to make sense of the situation. 

Her boyfriend, Steve Harrington, was standing in front of her.

She watched him freeze, his eyes fixated on her as she let the backpack fall to the ground with a thud. His eyes began to water, his lip trembling as he tried to speak.

“O-oh my god,” he said in almost a whisper. His hand reached up to his chest, as if it was becoming hard to breathe.

She stayed still, finding it hard to move any part of her body. 

“You know each other?” Robin questioned, not knowing what was going on.

Steve didn’t answer her, only beginning to move toward her. At first it was small movements, but quickly broke out into a run. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks as his body collided with hers. She gripped at the fabric of his jacket, digging her nails into his back as they held each other. He picked her up by the waist to hug her tighter- she didn’t think he’d ever let go. And she didn’t want him to.

Reluctantly, he placed her down, pulling apart just enough to see her face. Looking her up at down, trying to wipe away his own tears of relief, he asked. “N-no bites? You’re okay?”

She nodded, cupping his cheeks with her hands. “I… I thought you were dead,” she cried out.

“I thought you were. The walkie I gave you-”

“-had to leave it behind. My parents turned on day one…” 

It was hard to stop the tears that were continuing to stream down her face. Taking his thumb, Steve wiped them away. Staring down at her, his brown eyes meeting hers, he couldn’t help himself.

He leaned forward, capturing her lips. It was hungry, a desperation behind him from being separated for so long. The fear that the worst had happened melted away. The urgency faded, as all she could focus on was the soft feel of his lips. They were chapped but she didn’t mind, knowing hers were too. 

Even in his arms, his lips pressing against hers, she couldn’t stop herself from continuing to cry. At the feel of the first teardrop on her cheek, Steve pulled back. 

“Hey,” he soothed. “It’s okay. I’m safe right? We’re safe.” She nodded, unable to form words. “Where’s your brother.”

It was hard not to cry again as she shook her head. “Gone, he got bit by my parents.”

His eyes went wide. “You’ve been on your own? This entire time, you’ve been out there by yourself?”

She attempted to reply, being cut off as Steve hugged her again. Her hands found their place flat against his back. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I should’ve gone out looking for you.”

“It’s okay, you thought I was dead.”

“No, it’s not!” He pulled back to see her face, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. “You are never leaving my side again okay? Never.”

“Never,” she repeated, a smile slowly forming. It felt wrong to be this happy when the world around them was in shambles. She didn’t want to take this moment for granted.

They had completely forgotten they weren’t alone. The sound of a throat clearing pulling them out of their trance. Steve turned his head, Y/n looking over his shoulder at Robin who was still standing a few feet behind them.

“Care to explain?” she asked.

“Oh right,” Steve began, taking Y/n’s hand and leading her over to the other girl. “You guys have already met but, Robin, this is my girlfriend.”

He turned to Y/n. “Robin and I were working in the mall together on Outbreak Day. Remember you were gonna come visit me?” She nodded in recognition.

“So,” Robin started, crossing her arms against her chest. “This is the famous girlfriend you never shut up about.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I talk about you a lot.”

“You were right, she is a badass.”

“Thanks,” Y/n said sheepishly. 

She felt Steve’s touch fall from her hand. Looking back she saw him grab her backpack. “Let me take this. Rob and I have a full floor to ourselves. And she doesn’t mind adding one more person right?”

“Hey,” Robin said, raising her hands. “After what you did in that mall, you could kick me out for all that I care.”

“Oh I’m not gonna do that!” Y/n protested but Robin already began to walk away.

Steve drew back her attention. “Let’s get you showered and a new pair of clothes. We have running water - warm too.”

She smiled. ��So I’ve heard.”

He smiled back, still in shock that his girlfriend was alive and in front of him. Overcome with emotions, he leaned back down and kissed her one more time. It was short and sweet, but still felt like an eternity.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” he said, taking her hand once more.

Closing her fingers around his, she looked back up at him. “Yes we do.” 

#fanfic #fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #joe keery #djo #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things 4 #established relationship #Jim hopper #apocalypse au #tlou au #the last of us au #boyfriend steve harrington

[rottenpumpkin13]

*playing Mariah Carrey music*

SOLDIER Vlogmas #3

[The video starts with the camera being held by Sephiroth at an awkward angle. He has a black Santa hat and looks serious as he strides down the hallway with a Bluetooth speaker in hand]

"Zack has been playing All I Want For Christmas Is You for seven days straight. Genesis is on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Today we'll see if we can crack him."

[He places it strategically outside the office door, then films himself giving an awkward thumbs up at the camera before standing back and filming the door]

[The song begins playing, echoing throughout the hallway]

[Suddenly the office door swings open. Genesis storms out with a baseball bat and fury in his bloodshot eyes]

"And now we must run," Sephiroth says.

[Genesis takes a swing at Sephiroth, who ducks just in time and makes a run for it. The video blurs as the camera shakes. Sephiroth is running while avoiding Genesis' every swing]

"Allow the Christmas Spirit to enter you, Genesis!" Sephiroth yells.

"TAKE THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT AND SHOVE IT RIGHT UP YOUR—"

[The audio cuts out as the camera falls to the ground in a blur of motion. The distant sound of Mariah Carey's holiday anthem and the continued chaos in the background persists]

[The video ends]

#ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #ff7r #christmas chaos #ff7 #ff7cc