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the-penguinspy · 1 year

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Also, not me not realizing you rbed a prompt post until now :( ONLY if you want to bc I'm like ten years late or smth!

27: I can't think when you keep looking at me like that.” for whoever strikes ur fancy :)

not me, replying, 10 years late as well...thank u for the prompt smo, 'twas truly lovely to write for :)

The living room still smells like the remnants of their breakfast. American-style this morning – maple sausages and fried eggs, waffles and coffee; something Ava had been craving, something Beatrice had given in to.

She’s sated and full, the meal sitting heavy in her belly, and she’d love nothing more than to indulge herself in some mid-morning cuddles with Beatrice, maybe even make out a little bit. Instead, she’s sitting on Beatrice’s lap on the couch, knees bracketing hips. Not a bad place to be in, not at all! But her hands are occupied with a stack of multi-coloured flashcards and she’s studying.

“Bea, don’t we have fake licenses expressly for this purpose? Don’t these rules go out the window when it’s my turn to drive, anyway?”

“You don’t have to take the test, but most of the time we won’t be having dramatic car escapades. You’ll have to learn the rules of the road.”

“I think a little rule breaking is healthy sometimes. Necessary, even.”

Beatrice hums. “You can’t break the rules if you don’t know what they are.”

Ava groans and throws her head back dramatically, Beatrice’s hands coming up to hold her by the waist to prevent her from falling backwards. “I think I'll know when the rules are broken when I get five honks in a row,” she says, addressing the ceiling. “Bonus points for prolonged honks that sound like harmony.”

“Please don’t cause unnecessary grievances for your fellow drivers,” Beatrice says. Ava straightens up at that. Narrows her eyes at Beatrice. She opens her mouth and is about to dispute the accusation when the hands at her waist squeeze hard, once, and the air in her lungs leave her in a stint of breathless laughter.

Beatrice leans in close. “What was that you were going to say?” she asks, fingers digging into Ava’s waist, making her laughter burst out unchecked.

“I said–” Another warning squeeze, and Ava’s cut off as she wheezes. “Okay, okay! I won’t– Bea, stop– I won’t cause unnecessary grievances for my fellow drivers.”

“Thank you, darling.” Beatrice reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind Ava’s ear, smiling when Ava presses a kiss to her palm. She goes back to her stack of flashcards – written by her own hand, thank you very much – reading each question out loud and pairing it with an answer before flipping to the back to check. Beatrice’s hands rest on her thighs, and she hums encouragingly.

Ava scans the newest question. “What should you do – uh oh, this doesn’t sound good – in the event of a fire in a tunnel?” The stack has lessened by half. Cards are scattered beside her on the couch, a few of them making a home between the cushions.

She narrows her eyes and tries to pry the answer from her mind. Step one: don’t get close to the fire, obviously, otherwise the car would explode. Step two: stop the car. Step three: find and use the SOS phone, or get out using the emergency exit. Wait, should she use the SOS phone before leaving for the exit? Maybe someone else had already reported the fire, but then again, what if nobody hadn’t?

She mouths the question to herself silently, fingers itching to turn the card over to get the answer. She squints at the question and traces the words, following the swoops and curves of the lettering, but it’s quite difficult to focus when there’s a more enticing view in her periphery.

Try as she might, but her gaze keeps getting drawn back to Beatrice’s face. In her defence, it’s a very pretty face – Beatrice’s eyes are a rich, dark brown, focus intense on her, and the way the morning light shines on her face makes her freckles stand out; not stars, but still constellations in their own right.

It all falls away, is the thing – the stack of cards is held in front of her and she can see the hard-practiced cursive of her penmanship that graces the paper, but it all melts away in the face of Beatrice’s attention on her. It’s thrilling. Addictive. The answer to the question eludes her, slips out of her grasp, driving theory all but forgotten.

“Ava?”

A huff and a pout, and Ava’s crossing her arms, hand gripped tight onto the cards to keep them from spilling everywhere. “Bea, I can't think when you keep looking at me like that.”

The blush that blooms on Beatrice’s cheeks is so pretty, even now. Ava feels her teeth ache with it. “My sincerest apologies. Let me remedy that immediately,” Beatrice says, the corners of her mouth twitching. She furrows her brows and frowns in mock-seriousness, and shuts her eyes.

Ava privately laments her loss but this, at least, is more conducive to her focus.

She’s about to read the flashcard again to remember what the question was exactly, when she feels calloused fingers gently slide up her thighs. Beatrice’s hands reach the bottom of her cotton shorts, fingers barely dipping underneath the hems, before they rest there. She’s used to the frequency of Beatrice’s tactility now, but her chest still warms whenever Beatrice initiates the contact.

It would have been fine if those hands had stayed, but no – they make their way down her thighs slowly, fingertips dragging, before moving upwards once again with a more pronounced pressure.

Ava’s breath hitches. The smirk that graces Beatrice’s face is indicative that she caught it, her smile growing wider as Ava’s hands migrate to rest on her shoulders. Ava pitches her hips forward to lean into the contact, and she lets out a whine as Beatrice retracts her hands ever so slightly. “You’re such a tease. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me study?”

“I recall that you’re the one who suggested this method of studying,” Beatrice points out. Her tone wobbles slightly, laughter barely held in check, and Ava shoots her a half-hearted glare – not that Beatrice can see it. “Call it a sneak peek,” Beatrice says, “twenty more questions, then we’ll take a short break.”

“Ten.” “Fifteen.”

Ava beams. “Deal. Although, I think I need a little something to help jumpstart the studying process again. You know, to remind me of why I’m doing this in the first place.”

An eye cracks open at that, and Ava flutters her eyelashes for good measure. The coaxing is unneeded, though – Beatrice lets out a quick huff of laughter as she leans in, and Ava meets her in the middle.

The kiss is slow and sweet; a delicious sample of what’s to come. But Ava’s never been particularly good at waiting – she’s harboured an itching sense of impatience ever since the Halo had been embedded onto her back, the feeling only exacerbated by the blue-shifted timeline of the Holy War. Thus, the desire to take life by the reins, to devour its offerings, had become a habit formed quickly by will and necessity. Every facet of life she’d missed out on – she’d wanted it all, had always been hungry for it.

But – the war is over now. The life she’s building together with Beatrice is never going to be snatched away by divine hand, by demons or monsters or duty or sacrifice, not anymore. Ava’s still oh-so-hungry for it, and she can afford to linger now, but still, in moments like these? Where it’s just the two of them, unhurried, where love permeates every breath, every look, every gesture? It’s hers, it’s Beatrice’s, it’s theirs for all time, but somehow it’s moments like these where Ava can’t help but feel the most greedy; can’t help but give in to the urge to take, to hold between the canines of her teeth.

She tilts her head to deepen the kiss, fingers twitching against Beatrice’s shoulders. The hands on her thighs tighten their grip in approval, and the feeling sparks a hot thrill up her spine that disperses rapidly through her veins.

But all too soon, Beatrice pulls back. She doesn’t move far though; her lips ghost over Ava’s chin, her jaw. Ava holds herself still, waits until Beatrice’s mouth brushes against hers in one last kiss. Only then does Beatrice lean back. And only then, in the gift of this space, does Ava let her composure crumble, body and spirit rejuvenating with a harsh and shaky inhale.

“Can I open my eyes now, or will that be too distracting for you?” Beatrice’s voice is low and sweet with the tease, the cadence of her breathing unfairly even; this close, her breaths fall damp over Ava’s lips and taunt her with their proximity, and Ava has to fight to loosen her muscles, to not give in to the chase.

Tempting as always, but – Ava stays strong. She places a small kiss on the tip of Beatrice’s nose, revels in the warmth of her smile and how her eyes crinkle at the corners, before settling in place and returning to her flashcards once more. “Keep them closed, please, or I’ll never learn how to drive normally.”

#warrior nun #warrior nun fic #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #penguin writes #ava after she's gone thru the driving theory and has applied it well IN PRACTICE: ok bea ive been so so so good right? so can you.#can you teach me how to drift-#bea: no.#(reasoning: tyres are expensive. drifting takes practice. the smell of burnt rubber is not a great smell to smell.)#smokestarrules

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