#final space ava
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My all FANDOMS
-Lackadaisy
-Hazbin Hotel
-Marvel
-AvA / AvM (Animation vs Animator / Animation vs Minecraft)
-Murder Drones
-Lmk (Lego monkie kid)
-Tadc (The amazing digital circus)
-all Fnaf games and lore (Five Night at Freddy's)
-all Sth (Sonic the Hedgehog)
-fqtfim (The quest for the ink machine)
-batim (bendy and the ink machine)
-Disney Oswald
-Ninjago
-Helluva Bos
-Little Nightmares 1 and 2
-Final Space
-Cult of the Lamb
-Petscop
-Poppy Playtime
-Ena
-She-ra ( mostly for Catra)
That's all I remember so far and I also want to do a comic with someone. I don't want money or something like thar for it, I just want a friend and a good story to draw or make it better.
#helluva boss#ninjago#tqftim#sonic the hedgehog#fandom#lmk fandom#batim#fnaf#murder drones#Tadc#lackadaisy#AvA fandom#AvM fandom#final space#cult of the lamb#My all fandoms#hazbin hotel#petscop#poppy playtime#Ena#she ra
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The Arrangement (8) - Revelations
Chapter summary: You finally confront Ava, but the conversation takes an unexpected turn.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: Innuendo. Mentions of abuse and trauma.
Word count: 5.3k
Series Masterlist
You found him by the edge of a cliff overlooking Baldur's Gate.
The first rays of light began to spill into the morning sky in hues of yellow fused with orange. You would never tire of watching the city you called home being engulfed in such beauty.
“Enjoying the view?”
Astarion was holding a somewhat mellow smile on his lips as he turned to face you.
“I hadn't seen this much colour bathing the city in over two hundred years.”
You stopped next to him, looping an arm around his and resting your face against his shoulder.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?”
He sighed. “I do not want to get too attached to it. In case things go awry, that is.”
‘Awry’ meaning that he wouldn't be able to ascend…
It always made your heart clench to think about how much Astarion still held on to that.
But you didn't want to think about such things for now.
For now, you were more than content to share this moment with him.
“The sun looks beautiful on you,” you said truthfully.
It wasn't exactly a challenge, but you adored praising and stroking his ego.
A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “As most things do, darling."
"That is true.”
He then placed his cold hand atop yours. “As you once did.”
His words hit you with such force that you felt your chest too heavy all of a sudden.
You glanced up at him, meeting his soft crimson eyes. “Astarion…”
Would he ever move on?
Would he ever move on from you?
He offered a defeated smile. “I know, I know. Just friends, right?”
You nodded. “Yes.”
He didn't utter another word as he looked on ahead.
You kept your grip around him, enjoying his firmness and how he made you feel so safe and comfortable.
Deep down, you were just thankful he couldn't see the single tear that streamed down your face.
The cold and wet trail brought you back to witness the sight of the sun emerging on the horizon line.
You pulled your legs up so you could rest your chin on your knees, hugging yourself as the breathtaking view filled your vision.
How you wished you could share this with him like many times before.
As lovers.
As friends.
You wiped the tear away with the back of your hand as sadness spread inside you.
There was no point in dwelling in the impossible. At least until you found a way for him to experience all the colour the world had to offer with no limitations.
Sleep hadn't come to you this night and it wasn't because of nightmares or the fact that Astarion had left you painfully yearning for his touch.
Your mind was just all over the place, trying to make sense of how things felt with him after that conversation.
Truth be told, you were more than happy with the occasional intimacy and giving him space.
But his taunting words still lingered in your mind.
You were certain he craved more than a friendship, but how much of that spread beyond carnal lust was something you weren't sure about.
Maybe even Astarion didn't know.
As much as you longed for more, you still wanted to mend your friendship first and bridge the distance that had come between you two.
As you pushed yourself from the bed and slipped into your robe, you took a quick glance at the mirror in front of you.
Eyes puffy and reddened paired with deep eyebags.
Wonderful.
You heaved a deep sigh as you exited the room, heading towards the kitchen area to brew some tea.
The door to his room was firmly shut and you hurried past it with bare feet.
The entire house was still swallowed in silence and darkness.
You quickly lit up a few candles before reigniting the fireplace and putting the kettle on.
The familiar squeak of the door to his room filled your ears.
As the water came to a boil, you poured a few herbs inside the cup as you poured the scalding liquid.
You heard him call out your name and your stomach immediately fluttered as he came into view, slowly pacing towards you.
“How did you know it was me?”
Astarion's lips curled into a smile. “I know the sound of your footsteps by heart.”
There was no trace of deceit in his remark.
His voice rang true and not as a mere attempt at flustering you with honeyed words.
He meant it and you felt the warm embrace of his presence tightly enveloping you.
Astarion had learned the way to your heart like no one else had ever tried to.��
He could crawl under your skin and have you yearn for him like no one else could.
And he did all of this effortlessly and like second nature.
You returned a warm smile, feeling the addictive embrace of his presence.
He felt like the home you longed to come back to.
As you moved to sit on the sofa nearby, enjoying the warmth that radiated from the cup in your hands, he eventually sat next to you, crimson eyes meeting yours and, for a moment, you held your breath.
He was your home.
“You look horrible.”
A snarky one.
You chuckled at his bluntness, taking a sip. “Didn't get much sleep.”
“Nightmares again?”
“No. My mind was just busy…”
He slowly nodded. “Was it too much? What we did?”
You glared at him in surprise. “What? No. What about you?”
His eyes narrowed. “I wanted more.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
He crossed his legs, adjusting his elegant shirt. “It wasn't nearly enough.”
“You were the one to stop it…”
“Because I had to. Gods know how long it took to… calm down, so to speak.”
The implication that dangled from his words wasn't particularly subtle.
Oh.
Oh.
Your cheeks flared up. “I… didn't hear you…”
Astarion flashed a teasing smile. “I know how to avoid being heard, unlike a certain someone.”
Bad timing had you nearly choking on your tea.
“Careful, darling. You'll get all wet… again.”
The nerve!
You shot him murderous glare, wiping your chin.
Then the two fell into a comfortable silence.
You melted into the backrest of the sofa, cradling the cup in your hands, humming a tune that you had almost forgotten about.
“I find myself missing our journey, you know?” he said after a while.
“Even having to play the hero?”
He tapped his chin pensively. “Even that, as surprising as it sounds. I could have done without all your ridiculous acts of heroism, but I grew to enjoy indulging in some of them.”
Your heart thudded happily at his honesty.
“Who would have thought that you’d find joy in being selfless,” you teased with a smile.
He lifted one finger. “Do not misunderstand. I still come first. I spent too many centuries not being able to and I won't give that up now.”
You nodded, fully understanding his line of thinking.
In the meantime, your hand had dropped in between you two and you felt coldness reach your fingers.
You looked down, startled, only to be met with his fingers gently brushing against yours.
And just like clockwork, your heart sped up.
Astarion had his eyes fixed on the swirling flames that emanated from the fireplace.
Little by little, his fingers began to intertwine with yours until his hand gripped you tightly.
Your mind blanked for a moment at how unexpected this was.
In time, his cold skin began to warm up against yours.
And then it dawned on you that he had never held your hand this way.
He had helped you up on your feet more times than you could count.
He had gripped your hand in his as both of you hurried along collapsing halls and while being chased by the most vicious of creatures.
But he had never held your hand as if seeking for silent comfort.
You shifted so you could rest your head on his shoulder.
He tensed slightly under your touch, but eventually relaxed and you seized the opportunity to melt into his side, enjoying the familiar scent of bergamot and rosemary.
Home.
You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the tear in your cup had gone tepid and you began to feel guilty.
You had considered not telling him about confronting Ava.
But you didn't want to lie and hide anything from him, especially if it concerned him in the first place.
You pulled slightly away from him and he met your gaze.
“I'm going to meet Ava tonight.”
You expected an angry outburst of indignation from him, but were met with an inquisitive glare instead.
“Why doesn't that surprise me at all?”
That was it?
“Wait… you are not going to talk me out of it?”
At this, he faintly chuckled, still firmly gripping your hand in his.
“Honestly, darling, when has that ever worked?”
Point taken.
He knew of your stubbornness all too well.
“Besides, do you intend on killing her?”
You widened your eyes. “I – no? I don't think so?”
Though you couldn't swear on this until you were actually absolutely sure she was as harmless as he claimed her to be.
“Then, you have my blessing.”
You then narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. “You don't even want to go with me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“It's not necessary.”
He shrugged. “Then I won't.”
Astarion was acting uncharacteristically accepting of your intrusion, and that rang a plethora of alarm bells in your head.
It was as if he knew you'd have no reason to harm her.
“Why are you so… calm about this?”
His eyes met yours. “I am well aware you can turn Ava into a pile of dust should she cross your path. But I don't believe you will do such a thing.”
“Why not? I don't trust her.”
His grip around your fingers eased slightly. “I don't expect you to, but you do trust me, don't you?”
“Yes.”
You didn't hesitate for a second. After all, you had trusted Astarion through things that most people would have staked him for. The two of you were way past the uncertainty of not trusting each other's intentions.
It was more evident that the glaring issue that plagued your relationship was rooted in miscommunication and not mistrust.
“And I trust her.”
That ground on your nerves. “But why?”
“Because I have to.”
You immediately dropped his hand, turning in your seat to fully face him, already feeling the familiar irritation that came with him not being fully open with you at times.
“Astarion, you need to start telling me why you hold her in such high regards,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can also trust me. Whatever it is… just tell me.”
He glared at you with a faint scowl. “She is taking my blood with the intention of lessening some vampirism weaknesses.”
Oh?
“Such as?”
“Well, the insatiable hunger is the main focus.”
You stared at him in silence, not quite sure what to make of this.
The Wish Spell could grant him the ability to walk in the sun again, but this seemed even more ambitious.
And dangerous.
“Obviously, this is all rather theoretical, but it seemed like a sound prospect,” he went on, sinking into the sofa with an exasperated sigh. “As selfish as I am, I also considered how this could be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”
His words took you quite aback.
“This… seems too good to be true,” you said hesitantly.
“Oh, I'm aware. That is why I am keeping my expectations in check.”
You really, really wanted to hate Ava.
But if her motifs were truly this altruistic, then you were going to have a hard justifying that feeling, which provided another added layer of anger altogether.
“So, if you want to talk to her, you are free to do so. Seeing is believing or so they say,” he said with a witty grin.
You sighed.
Astarion was a bad planner.
No. He was a terrible planner.
He could identify the end goal, but would have no clue how to get there and would merely make adjustments as he went along, hoping for the best.
Luck had been on his side as of late, but you lacked that optimism.
And he obviously saw that splattered across your face.
“Oh, please. I know that look – just say it,” he scoffed.
You weren't even sure what you wanted to say.
Deep down, you felt extremely protective of him and didn't appreciate that she was exchanging lessons in intimacy for his blood.
It all seemed very one-sided and the promise of also helping him – and by extension, the spawn in the underdark – still seemed unrealistically… convenient.
“Are you even sure any of this will work? Has she made any progress with your blood?”
“Some progress. Not enough to keep me too hopeful, but I will take anything these days.”
You could sympathise with the sentiment, but…
“I still think there is something off about her.”
Astarion just looked as amused as ever. “No jealousy?”
You rolled your eyes. “No.”
“Well, she would have nothing to gain from sending us both to prison,” he said. “She knows I exclusively feed on you and that I do need to feed regularly.”
The nonchalant way in which he uttered those words, brought a wave of heat to your face, as the events from a few hours earlier resurfaced in your mind.
There was a hint of intimacy in the act itself, but also in the aftermath. Astarion's senses would be sharpened as your blood coursed through his body.
“Seems like I broke your concentration, darling,” he said teasingly, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.
You jolted briefly and then scowled, annoyed that he could see right through you so easily.
“Don't flatter yourself.”
He gave you a devious smile. “I don't have to. Not when your body provides the finest flattery there is.”
Gods.
You wished you could turn off the effect his honeyed words always had on you.
Clearing your throat, you straightened up in your seat. “Very well, then. I am willing to be enlightened.”
A teasing smile tugged faintly at his lips. “Good girl.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Regaining your composure, you said, “Wyll is going there with me tonight.”
Astarion drew a sleazy grin this time. “Oh, so that was what the two of you were plotting yesterday.”
You rolled your eyes.
“And here I thought sweet Wyll had finally mustered the courage to take you out on a lavish date,” he said with a dramatic and forceful pout. “Seems like romance is dead, after all.”
For some odd reason, Astarion was under the impression that Wyll harboured feelings for you that surpassed friendship.
But what Astarion didn't know was that your heart was too full of him to allow room for anyone else.
His taunting words created the perfect opening for you to return the gesture.
“No jealousy?”
His smile only grew wider. “Do you want me to be jealous?”
You were entering his territory, and should tread lightly.
“Maybe you should be jealous,” you whispered.
He shifted closer to you and you held your breath.
“And why is that? Why should I be jealous of your friendship with him?”
Gods, he was good .
Your heart drummed faster in your chest as his face drew near.
He was a master at disarming you with carefully laid out traps whilst using his words as alluring bait.
“He's very… friendly.”
You inwardly cringed at your ridiculous remark, which earned a chuckle from Astarion.
At this point, he was so close you almost feel his cool lips on yours.
“Well, hopefully not this friendly.”
That was it.
He was going to kiss you and you couldn't give a damn about it.
But before he could do so, the faint rhythmic thud of footsteps pulled you out of immersion, and the two of you pulled apart at once.
Lae'zel.
She reached the bottom of the staircase, eyeing both of you like she had just run into the most disappointing event of her life.
“The sun has yet to fully rise, and the two of you are already at it again,” she said with a scowl. “Wasn't the coupling from last night enough?”
Your jaw dropped open in sheer mortification.
Surely she hadn't… heard anything… right?
“Where is your sense of decorum, Lae'zel?” Astarion clicked his tongue, leaning back against the sofa once more.
She gave him a stern glare. “You wouldn't know decorum if it hit you in that pale face of yours, Astarion.”
He chuckled. “My, my… someone is feisty today.”
“The sounds you two made could raise the dead from their graves,” she said, moving swiftly towards the front door with her sword keeping her company. “I am not sure how much more of this torture I can take.”
You stood up at once, feeling embarrassment take over. “Oh! We… uh… Astarion was just feeding and–”
She held a hand up. “Spare me the grotesque details. I'll be going out on a hunt. Don't expect me for lunch.”
And without a further exchange, she slipped through the door.
Astarion was now on his feet and heading towards the staircase.
Somehow, you couldn't help but feel a tad of disappointment as he left your side.
His company was something you reckoned you'd never tire from.
“See you later, darling. And do fix that lovely face of yours,” he teased dramatically. “Rose water works like a charm.”
And you couldn't hold back an endearing smile.
The night came quicker than you had hoped.
Confronting Ava made you feel truly uneasy, especially after learning some more about her.
As promised, Wyll had come to you, escorted by two Fists. The mage slayer stationed outside, quickly joined the four of you, and you felt the magic within you dip dangerously low from her presence.
The journey to The Blushing Mermaid proved to be rather uneventful and you were more than thankful for it.
“Does Astarion know about this?”
You nodded. “He has also told me the reason why she's taking his blood.”
Wyll's eyes met yours and you could see the tension on his face. “Whatever could be the reason?”
Fortunately, the two Fists walked far behind the two of you to preserve some privacy.
“She wants to lessen the effects of vampiric hunger.”
He arched an eyebrow and you approached the familiar tavern.
“That sounds too convenient .”
You almost pulled Wyll into a kiss as he unknowingly validated your concerns.
“Exactly. Maybe I am overthinking it, but I need to make sure nonetheless.”
He nodded firmly.
Those crowding the entrance immediately made way for you to walk inside, and you heard a few salutes as others inside bowed to Wyll.
Bork approached the counter with a tilted smile on his face. “Duke of Ravengard. To what do we owe the pleasure? Hope we are not in trouble?”
A few drunkards nearby erupted in laughter.
“Unless you have indeed done something unlawful, I wouldn't worry too much, Bork.”
He offered Wyll a forced smile, which he didn't return.
“We are looking for Ava,” you chimed in impatiently.
His face instantly dropped. “Ava? Is she in trouble?"
Honestly, what was with everyone and this woman? Was she some goddess in disguise?
“We just wish to talk to her,” Wyll answered.
Bork hesitated at first, but glared at the two Fists flanking you. “First floor. Third room to your left.”
You nodded and swiftly made your way upstairs, feeling your heart hammering fast in your chest as you paced along the corridor.
Wyll knocked thrice on the large door.
It swung open almost immediately, and Ava came into view, holding a knowing smile.
“I was expecting you.”
A swirl of nausea settled in your stomach.
She extended one hand, standing to the side so you could walk in.
“As pleased as I am to be visited by our Duke, I shall ask for you not to enter.”
You immediately turned to see Wyll scowl deeply. “Tonight I'm no Duke – I'm her friend and you shall let me enter.”
Ava tapped on the door lightly. “These are my quarters, and unless I am being charged with wrongdoing, I have the right to decide who to invite inside, Duke .”
The two Fists were gripping the handle of their swords, ready to draw them.
Wyll motioned for the to be at ease and turned his head to you. “I will be waiting outside.”
Ava wiggled her fingers dismissively, further gnawing at your nerves.
“Do not try anything witty, hunter,” Wyll said in a tone you hadn't heard since he last faced Mizora.
She chuckled. “I have abandoned those ways. You may simply call me Ava.”
But before he could reply, she pushed the door closed in one swing and glanced at you with an excessively sweet smile.
“So? I don't believe you came all the way here to simply gawk at me.”
You cleared your throat. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”
“Of course. I would be surprised if you didn't.”
Your patience was running thin.
“It concerns Astarion.”
“Still not surprised,” she said with a tilted smile. “I'm all ears.”
“He's told me about you.”
“Hopefully not everything, but do go on.”
She moved to a table and poured a red liquid into a goblet. “Can I tempt you with some red wine?”
You scowled and she laughed. “It is not poisoned, though I do understand your hesitation.” She then took a long sip.
Glancing around the room, you realised it could easily pass off as the inside of an apothecary store. There were endless rows of shelves and cupboards that housed countless vials of glass with suspicious content.
There was a small fire burning by the window with a large flask set right above, the flames barely reaching the bottom as a deep dark red liquid gurgled.
Ava sat on a lavish armchair, holding the goblet to her lips.
“I know you're taking his blood for some experiment in regards to vampirism,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Even to supposedly help the vampire spawn in the Underdark.”
Her pleasant face wavered momentarily. “He's offering it to me. Freely.”
“You are taking advantage of him.”
“I am not taking advantage of anything. It's a mere transaction that we have both agreed upon.”
“Blood for intimacy?”
“That seems rather… crass.”
“You are taking advantage of his… wounds…”
“Why are you so hellsbent on accusing me of being the one taking advantage of him? He also has much to win from this arrangement.”
“Because you have the upper hand here. The price for a chance at healing from his wounds seems rather unbalanced,” you said, feeling heat flare throughout your entire body. “You get his blood, which is a sure thing, and he gets a ‘perhaps’ on all fronts: intimacy and that hunger “cure” you're promising.”
Ava glared at you with eyes slightly narrowed, chin resting on the back of her hand.
“There are wounds that take time to heal. Some never heal at all, my dear.”
“I'm aware.”
“Are you? Are you, really?” Ava said with a scoff. “I am not the enemy here. Your vitriol against me is rooted in something primal.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Primal?”
“Is it jealousy, I wonder?”
You clenched your fists. “It is not. Whatever bond you think you share with him is superficial and frail. There's nothing to be jealous of.”
“Actually, I do believe your words… it is not jealousy, indeed,” she said, tapping a long nail on her chin. “But rather… protectiveness.”
You remained silent.
“I dare say that protectiveness can blind even the wisest.”
“I am not blinded. I can see there is something unsettling about you.”
“You look, but you do not see,” she said as she took a sip of her wine. “Your attachment to him is your weakness.”
“Caring for others isn't a weakness.”
“You taught him that, did you?”
The faint mockery wasn't lost on you, and it made your nails dig further into your palms, regning in your temper as best as you could.
“He doesn't need to be taught anything. Astarion may need some guidance, as we all do from time to time.”
Ava merely chuckled. “May I see your neck?”
What?
Her words caught you off guard, but you did not move an inch to comply with her request.
“Ah… your reluctance is answer enough,” she tutted. “He has fed on you recently, hasn't he?”
Now, that immediately had your stomach turn in revulsion, realising just how transparent she truly was.
“So this is what it's all about – you just want him to feed on you instead.”
Ava rolled her eyes with a forced yawn. “On the contrary. Of course, I have vaguely wondered what it feels like, but Astarion is far too devoted to your blood to even entertain the idea.”
“Then why did you complain to me about him not feeding on you?”
She crossed her legs elegantly under her emerald green dress. “I was merely taunting you. Again, his devotion gets in the way.”
“I wouldn't necessarily call it ‘devotion’.”
“Oh, but I would. See, Astarion's bond to you is exquisite and much welcome… to say the least.”
Her flowery words were really testing your patience now.
“Elaborate.”
“The last time he fed on you and gave me his blood was right when you left The Blushing Mermaid. A few days later, I tried his blood on some spawn in the city outskirts that have taken to living underground in search of a cure.” She paused briefly to take yet another sip from the goblet. “The results were vastly different from my previous experiments.”
“Can you just get straight to the point for once?”
“Oh, you really are a feisty one…” Ava said with a teasing smile. “As I was saying, the results were rather interesting and unexpected. The spawn reported feeling sated much quicker than before, but the effect wore off in the first hour, which was a disappointment.”
You froze instantly. “You're… using my blood?”
“Well, yes… and no,” she said in a casual tone. “Your blood mixed with his, that is. Before that day, I had never tried his blood after he fed on you.”
You felt as though you might be sick as your stomach lurched violently.
“This is… I – does he know?”
“Well, I haven't been given the chance, considering how the two of you got thrown into prison,” she said with a shrug. “And I am fully aware you think I am somehow responsible for it.”
You were still so taken aback by her earlier revelation, that you had momentarily forgotten about that detail.
“Now, what would I gain from setting you two up, especially after I just told you this.”
She did have a point.
Seemingly.
“You mentioned other spawn – why not use their blood instead? Why his?”
“Oh, darling… ”
The way that word rolled out of her tongue grated on your nerves, and you realised only one person could masterfully use it without provoking a visceral reaction.
“Astarion isn't really your regular spawn, is he? Even when he was under Cazador Szarr's influence, he would still rebel against his commands while his siblings cowered in fear of defying their master.”
An overwhelming sense of dread took over at once.
Astarion has revealed how Cazador had kept him buried alive for a whole year as punishment for letting a potential victim go.
He had clawed his hands raw from despair as he wished for death to just take him.
Even remembering this vaguely, made your heart hurt for him.
“How do you know that?”
Ava rose to her full height, brushing her long and dark curls from her shoulders.
She paced towards a desk and began ruffling through pieces of parchment.
“I was a monster hunter for over twenty years and my group kept a close eye on Cazador and his spawn,” she said, not lifting her eyes. “Astarion had been on our radar for a while, but he was quite experienced in slipping through the cracks whenever we tried to go after him.”
You swallowed.
“Imagine our surprise when he suddenly goes missing. My partners were dumbfounded beyond belief. No vampire spawn is able to resist the compell of their master for that long.”
She then moved back to the armchair, flipping through a couple of scrolls.
“We thought he had met his demise somehow, so imagine my surprise when I find out that he's back in Baldur's Gate. Walking in the sunlight and next to… you.”
You weren't sure where this conversation was headed and you weren't sure you wanted to know.
Ava took your silence as encouragement. “Cazador was attempting to become the Vampire Ascendant and we were set on stopping him, but were instead met with his manor bathed in blood and corpses littering the place.”
So they had gotten there after your group stopped the ritual and prevented the rite from taking place.
“So now you're suddenly an alchemist who wants to help vampire spawn? Why the change of heart?”
Ava met your eyes and her face was void of any amusement. “Astarion and I connect in more ways than you think.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms and waiting to hear some circus clown reasoning.
“I wasn't a monster hunter by choice,” she said sternly. “I was born into it and molded into their ways.”
Your defensive demeanour wavered momentarily.
“I shall not go into details, but all you need to know is that once Cazador Szarr was gone, I was driven by curiosity and sought Astarion out so I could learn more about what makes him so different from all the other spawn I've come across.”
You narrowed your eyes at her. “So you just left your group? Just like that?”
She snickered. “They were killed.”
“What? By whom?”
She snickered as she took another sip. “By me.”
You were left speechless.
“I thought that if a vampire spawn could break the chains from his master and embrace freedom again, so could I.”
She let out a chuckle, emptying the goblet in one sip.
“So, I offered to help him as he's helped me. No more, no less.”
You really wanted to hate her.
You wanted her to give you a solid reason to be suspicious of her intentions.
But…
“So you genuinely care for him?”
She nodded. “I do. And if Astarion were to walk through that door and ask for us to part ways, I would accept it. It would essentially kill my research until I found someone remotely adequate, but I would make peace with it.”
This conversation had not taken the turn you expected.
At all.
“I can see the confusion in your eyes. You truly believed I am out to get you when I'm probably your best option right now.”
“Best option? In regards to what?”
She extended her arm towards a chair in front of her. “Take a seat.”
You did so, reluctantly, never letting your guard down and her out of your sight.
“Cazador Szarr had many enemies, but he also had many allies. People who were not pleased with his death.”
She now had your undivided attention and you felt your palms sweat.
There wad actually someone going after you? After Astarion?
“I have ways to find who they are.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” you immediately asked, feeling rather unsettled by her words.
She clicked her tongue. “I need assurances first, and I have a proposition to make.”
You saw the flash of a knife emerging from her sleeve and a tall glass container being placed on the table by her side.
TBC
Ao3
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#astarion smut#astarion x tav#astarion x female reader#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x female tav#astarion x f!tav
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Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint
My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.
Check out our interview with Michelle below!
How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?
I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.
What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?
Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.
From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?
It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.
Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?
I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.
What is the hardest part of your process?
Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.
What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?
In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.
What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?
I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.
Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.
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Intervention- pt 2
an anon asked for a part 2 where Barb might be hurt that she doesn't know about you.
WC: ~2.9k
“You have a girlfriend?” Jacob is the first to gasp out. “Mel Mel, I didn’t know that I wasn’t the only queer one in the school!”
Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. “Yes, I do have a girlfriend, and you ain’t nothin’ special kid. I just don’t make it as known as you do.”
“I’m Y/N,” you smile at the group. You then address them all by name. They look impressed. And then you get to Barbara Howard- of course you know that she’s your girlfriend’s work-wife. “And Barbara, I’ve heard the most about you. It’s truly a pleasure getting to finally meet you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she glances at you as she shakes your offered hand. “Melissa has kept you her dirty little secret for how long?”
“Barb,” the redhead warns lowly. “She ain’t my dirty little secret- just a topic that hadn’t really come up in conversation.”
“Well, I would say that-”
“Why don’t you guys come on in,” you tell the group softly, trying to get the two squabbling women to quit. There does not need to be any point of contention while your girlfriend’s friends are here, and it certainly does not need to be over you. All you want to do is make a good impression.
They all enter the house that they thought they knew and had seen prior to the breakup with Gary. But now, it’s different. It’s… definitely still Melissa- but the plastic on the couches are gone, it’s a bit brighter, and there’s a sense of someone living in the space. It’s nice. You don’t miss the way that Barbara only continues to study you as you lead everyone in, offering drinks or food in the kitchen.
“Melissa wouldn’t let me in the kitchen for this, so please… know that you won’t get food poisoning from today,” you joke as you hold the redhead’s hand. “There are other beverages outside in a cooler if you would rather a beer or something like that. Please… help yourselves.”
You head outside yourself to go grab yourself and your girlfriend a Yuengling. “Does anybody want a beer?”
Mr. Johnson is the only one that agrees, the others deciding that a water or a soda is okay for now. So, you head out to grab three beers.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is staring down the mob-like woman that they thought they all knew.
“What?”
“Damn, Schemmenti,” Ava raises a hand for a high five. “She’s hot!”
Melissa just rolls her eyes, but she does give her boss a high five, along with Mr. Johnson.
“Well, tell us about her!” Jacob and Janine both look at the redhead urgently. “How long have you been together, what’s the deal with her?!”
Barbara just looks at the woman she thought trusted her enough to tell her about a relationship like this with crossed arms.
“She is here, so you can just ask her yourself you know,” Melissa chuckles as she sees you come back inside. You go for the bottle opener on the fridge, expertly popping the tops off of the beers before distributing them out.
“Ask me what?” you ask as you snake an arm around Melissa’s waist and pull her closer gently.
“About you!” Janine states with fire. “We didn’t even know you existed!”
“Well,” you chuckle. “I’m Y/N, I’m an accountant down at one of the firms in Center City, Mel and I met at a Bally’s in Atlantic City, and we’ve been dating for about… a year and a half?”
“You kept this from us for a year and a half?” Gregory cuts in.
Your girlfriend just shrugs. “Youse never asked if I was dating anyone- just assumed I was single and mopey.”
You see the way that Barbara glares down her friend, and you try to cut the tension by inviting everybody to come sit outside in the small backyard that you have. They of course follow.
You and Melissa allow everybody to find a seat before you go to sit, but of course, there is only one chair. She takes it while you perch on the side of it. With an eye roll, she pulls you into her lap.
“We’re dating, hun,” she tells you. “You’re allowed to act like you love me.”
“I do,” you laugh. “Was just trying to be respectful and not make anyone uncomfortable.”
“Greg and Janine were grinding up on each other at the club,” Ava laughs with a wave of her hand. “And that was before they were dating. Y’all are together, and have been for some time.”
The two mentioned blush as they look at each other… they were hoping their boss would’ve forgotten that by now.
It’s a bit of time as they chat and catch up, Melissa filling you in on the missing pieces as she sips from her beer, before conversation comes to a quiet lull. Barbara only continues to stare down the two of you, and it’s quite clear she isn’t happy.
Barbara Howard not approving of this relationship is something that could make or break what you have going on with who you genuinely think might be the love of your life. Barbara Howard was the one person that you were really hoping to impress, and she’s making it quite clear that she does not care for you. Barbara Howard hasn’t spoken a word to you or Melissa since the first few minutes that she’s been at the house. And it is making you beyond uncomfortable.
“Well, I think I might start firing up the grill,” you sigh softly as you stand from your place in Melissa’s lap. “We have stuff for burgers and dogs, so… if everyone wants to let me know what they want, I can get that started?”
You have everyone’s orders being shouted at you faster than you can type the orders down in your notes. All of the orders have been taken except for… except for Barbara’s.
“Barbara?” you ask softly, eyes full of warmth. You’re really trying to get her on your good side.
“I’m fine,” she says astutely.
“Make a couple extra of each,” the redhead tells you. “I’ll grab a couple plates for you to put ‘em on as they’re finishing up.”
Of course, Mr. Johnson, Jacob, and Gregory both follow you over to the grill and make conversation with you as you cook, leaving the rest of the Abbott crew with your girlfriend.
While Jacob is questioning what feels like every aspect of your life at the grill, you can hear Barbara and Melissa getting into it.
“Are you seriously mad?” you can hear your girlfriend ask her work wife, clearly annoyed.
“I don’t know why you wouldn’t trust me enough to tell me who’s courting you,” Barbara states, hurt evident in her voice.
“Nobody’s courtin’ me, Barb. This ain’t Bridgerton,” the second grade teacher retorts with a sarcastic laugh.
“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me,” your girlfriend’s work wife tells her. “We’ve been friends for over fifteen years, and you’ve told me about other relationships- like Gary.”
“Because you approved of Gary,” Melissa tells Barbara.
“And what would make you think I wouldn’t approve of Y/N?”
“Well,” your girlfriend drawls out. “She’s a woman, you’re a woman of God, she’s a hell of a lot younger than we are, and it started out at a casino and sharing a cigarette. Forgive me if I thought that Barbara Howard, woman of God, might not like the backstory I would’ve given you.”
Barbara goes to spit something else out, but Janine cuts in rather quickly. For once, her and Ava are on the same team and are able to divert the conversation elsewhere.
You awkwardly make your way over to the group, juggling plates in hand. “Dinner is served,” you smile as you set them on the table. “Did anyone want a beer or a seltzer or anything like that?”
There are a few that chime in, ready for a drink. You oblige their requests with a smile. Dinner is nice, if a bit stilted as people try to find common ground to chat with you about. It all ends up leading back to Abbott, and you can’t find yourself complaining. It’s quite funny to hear the hi jinx that happen in an elementary school and all of the background things that happen out of sight of the kids. And then the topic shifts to the relationship that everybody has with Melissa. You find that Melissa is like a mother to Jacob, an aunt to Janine and in turn Gregory, close friends with Ava despite appearances at school, Mr. Johnson and her have some sort of ally between the two of them, and of course you already knew her and Barbara were like work wives.
Barbara just huffs at that sentiment before sighing. “I suppose I should be heading out.”
“But Barb!” Janine protests. “We haven’t even started setting off fireworks!”
“I got the good ones too,” the custodian cuts in.
But the woman dead set on heading home holds up a hand to halt their protests against her leaving. “It is time that I leave.”
She says goodbye to everybody before turning to you and your girlfriend. “Thank you for inviting me over,” is all she says. And then she’s seeing herself out.
The rest of the fourth of July gathering is quite nice, and you find yourself quite glad that you were able to meet the people that Melissa constantly talks about during the school year.
Before you know it, the school year is right around the corner. Despite having been in the same classroom for the last several years, Melissa asks if you’ll accompany her down to the classroom to prepare for her incoming students. You wholeheartedly agree, knowing that a good deed on your part will end up in well… a good deed.
As the two of you are lugging in a few boxes of new supplies, Barbara pulls up. There is no hello, no ‘how are you’. Just a simple glance before she turns her nose up at the two of you and begins to unload her own car.
“Barb,” your girlfriend calls in the direction of the kindergarten teacher. There is no dignified response. “Jesus Christ.”
“Give her a few minutes,” you tell the redhead softly as you pull yet another box of supplies out of your car. “She’s probably just in a rush to get all of her things in here before she exchanges pleasantries.”
“No,” the second grade teacher huffs. “She’s still all pissy that I didn’t tell her about you. Hasn’t reached out since the cookout.”
You know that to be quite odd. When the two are on good terms, they speak quite frequently- last year over Summer break they had spoken almost everyday.
You just nod before jogging over to Barbara’s car and politely asking you if she needed any assistance. She told you no. So you jogged back to your own car before picking up the same box that you had earlier and carrying it into the school.
The two of you make another trip, as does Barbara. Still, there are no words spoken between the two, and you can clearly see that it’s upsetting your girlfriend.
In the confines of her classroom, you close the door and perch yourself on Melissa’s desk. “Babe?”
“What?” she asks as she continues to staple the border around her bulletin board.
“You need to take a breath and maybe consider things from Barbara’s side,” you say quietly.
“So you’re on her side?” Green eyes whip around and land on you.
You slowly climb off of her desk and go to pull her in gently by the waist. You give her a sweet peck on the lips before whispering, “I just don’t like seeing the tension between you and your best friend.”
“I’m not even mad at her,” Melissa shrugs. “She’s mad at me.”
“I understand that,” you promise your girlfriend quietly. “But… imagine how you would feel if she started dating someone seriously, and you didn’t find out until they had been living together and dating for a year and a half.”
“I wouldn’t have to imagine that, because she’s been married to Gerald for thirty years, and the two of them are more in love than-”
“Mel,” you sigh quietly. “Just… put yourself in her shoes. Please.”
“I would… I would be pissed,” the teacher admits. “But I know that she wouldn’t like how our relationship started, and I know she was pissed when I ended things with Gary, and-”
“She stood by you through your divorce, she stood by you through your breakup with Gary; you’ve seen her through almost everything her and Gerald have been through. I can see why she’s hurt right now, hun.”
“I don’t,” your girlfriend huffs. “She knows I’m a more private person.”
“But you aren’t with her,” you reason. “Around her, you’re you. She knows every piece of you, even pieces I don’t know yet. I don’t think she’s mad at you- I think she’s hurt. This is just how she’s showing her hurt right now.”
“So what do you suppose I should do about it?” Melissa purses her lips. You can’t resist stealing a quick kiss.
“I think you should talk to her,” you advise. “I think you should apologize for not telling her once things got more serious between the two of us, and then I think you should invite her out for a dinner with just the two of you so you can chat and tell her more about us before suggesting a dinner with all three of us.”
“When did you get to be so wise?” your girlfriend asks you as she pulls you just the slightest bit closer to her.
“I’ve had some practice,” you chuckle softly. Then you pat her butt gently. “Go. Talk to her.”
Melissa bites her lip nervously before nodding. She heads out the door. You follow a few seconds later.
“I’m just going to stand outside the door out of sight in case the two of you need any mediation,” you tell her when she turns around and looks at you curiously.
She nods before continuing her journey down to the kindergarten wing. She knocks on the door in a rhythm that you know is only saved for her work wife.
“Melissa,” Barbara says, but there’s a bit of bite in her tone.
“Barb,” your girlfriend says quietly. “Can we… can we talk?”
“About?”
“I came down to apologize to you,” the redhead says softly as she steps into the room a bit further.
“For?” You can practically see the woman folding her arms across her chest and looking at Melissa as though she’s a student.
“For not tellin’ you about Y/N,” Melissa breathes. “For keeping her a secret from you, and then not being considerate of the feelings that you have. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just… nervous? I know that you’re a woman of faith with morals higher than I ever thought possible, and if it were to go up in flames with her, I didn’t want you to have to be there to pick up the pieces like you’ve done so many times before.”
“Melissa, if you thought I wouldn’t approve of the relationship you have with Y/N because she is also a woman, I would like to remind you that I adore Jacob like the son I never had,” the kindergarten teacher says evenly. “And we are best friends- I want to be there for you at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I do not care that you are dating a woman; I just want you to be happy. I wish you would have let me know earlier than you did. I thought we were closer than that.”
“We are,” your girlfriend says. “I messed up, Barb. An’ I’m sorry.”
“Well, thank you,” Barbara says quietly.
Melissa shifts where she stands. “How can I make it up to you? Dinner maybe? Just the two of us?”
You can hear the shift in tone between the two of them. Something changes. “I’d quite like that. I’ve missed you these past two months.”
You know it’s taking everything in Melissa to not make a comment about how she had reached out over the summer, but Barbara had not reciprocated. “I’ve missed you too,” you hear her say.
“And I better get to hear all about Y/N,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles. “She seems like a sweet girl, and she knows her way around a grill.”
“She’s… she’s really great, Barb,” you hear your girlfriend’s voice go soft- something she really only does when she’s talking about you. “She’s something special.”
“Well, I look forward to getting to know her,” Barbara chuckles. “And ooh, girl, do I have some things to tell you about what my girls got up to over the summer.”
“Over dinner? I’d be delighted, but right now Y/N is here helping me clean up my room for the upcoming year, and I’m sure she’d be more than happy to come help you too.”
And just like that, you know that everything just may be okay. Barbara and Melissa have made up, the kindergarten teacher herself said that you seem like a sweet girl, and now your girlfriend won’t be as much of a grump coming home from a hard day’s work today.
TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo
#melissa schemmenti fanfic#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfic#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti fanfiction
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five times melissa is possessive
content warnings: mentions of alcohol
I.
“You get locked out of your computer again?” You asked with a smile as you entered Melissa’s classroom. She had texted you that she needed help with something, so here you were within a minute. “No, I can't find the worksheets I downloaded and I don’t even know what to search for. I’m so frustrated I wanna rip the computer off the desk and chuck it out the window,” The older teacher responded, getting out of her chair to make room for you and leaning against the desk she threatened to do damage to.
Sitting down, you began combing through her files in her downloads folder. You found them immediately, but didn’t wanna bruise her ego by telling her straight away. You leaned back, and a small but ornate picture frame caught your eye. Inside, it held a photo of you and Melissa, standing outside of a restaurant downtown.
You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the first time you had hung out with the redhead outside of work, the two of you arrived together meeting everyone to watch a game.
“C’mon hon, I’ll drive you home.”
“Wait! I need a picture, of us.”
Melissa’s laugh was like music to your ears, a symphony of happiness and warmth. “A picture? For what? Proof that I didn’t kidnap ya?”
“No silly, proof that we hung out and had a good time. You know, for the memories.”
She chuckled but accepted, wrapping her arm around your waist as she pulled you in and leaned in close for the picture.
“Perfect. I’ll send it to you.”
“Whatcha lookin’ at over there?” Melissa’s voice pulled you from the memory. “This picture of us, cute that you have it up here,” You told her, tracing your fingers over the details on the frame. She smiled before responding, “Yeah, I like to look at it throughout the day, it reminds me that I still have good things in the world.”
II.
The gym was full of bustling bodies getting ready to hear the announcement Abbott’s fun-loving principal had prepared for the day. Of course right next to each other were Melissa and Barbara, but Melissa’s purse held the seat to her right. Countless times she denied teachers and staff the chair, despite how full the room was getting. She was running out of excuses at this point, even Barbara had to ask. “Who are you holding that seat for?”
As if on cue, you finally came through the double doors. Janine waved you over to her, somehow she saved and scored seats close enough to the front, but a low voice stopped you from continuing in that direction.
“Hey, kid,” Melissa hollered for you and motioned you towards her. Silently, you stood for a second, torn between the better seat and Melissa. Not to mention if you ignored Janine, you’d have to spend the next week making up for it. Upsetting Melissa, you’d have to spend the next...
Quickly you made up your mind and walked towards the redhead, and she moved her purse just in time for you to sit down. You mouthed an apology to your other friend just in time.
“Finally, what took you so long?” Melissa asked you quietly, as Ava could now be seen on stage.
“Sorry, I was trying to finish up the last batch of test grading for the week.” You answered, honestly. Trying to keep your voices down, Melissa and you scooted closer together, leaning into each other’s spaces. Although, you noticed the older woman had stuck her heeled boot around the leg of your chair and you realized you couldn’t move it if you tried.
Despite Ava starting her announcement, Melissa kept talking to you. “It’s okay, hon. I just had to fight off a couple of vultures to keep this seat for ya.” You blushed at the idea of Melissa shooing people away from the chair you currently occupied.
“You didn’t have to do that, y’know. Save the seat for me and all. I’m sure I would’ve found space somewhere. But thank you.” Melissa huffed at your response and tried (barely) to not roll her eyes. “I know, but I like sitting here. I always sit here.”
You squinted at her for a moment, trying to connect the dots between your statement and hers. What did it matter that she liked sitting here? Nonetheless, you started paying attention to whatever the principal was talking about now, in hopes that it had been enough time for her beginning rambles to have subsided.
As the presentation came to an end, slowly everyone shuffled out of the gym and to their respective rooms, and quietly the three of you waited in your chairs for the masses to leave. While people-watching the room, you picked up on the conversation to your left.
“I should’ve known,” Barbara muttered to her friend. You assumed Melissa gave her a confused look, because Barbara not-so-subtly gestured to you and your seat. Melissa just rolled her eyes once again, but turned her attention to you. Her green eyes made you feel a rush of emotions as they met your own. “Hi,” she said quietly, as if she was worried about scaring you off. “Hi,” you replied. “Ready to go?” She asked, grabbing both of your bags off the floor as the two of you stood up.
The walk back to everyone’s classrooms was quiet, but you didn’t miss the look Barbara gave her friend again as she made her way into her own room. “Here’s your bag, hon. I’ll see you at lunch?” Melissa asked, handing you your belongings as she leaned against the doorframe of your classroom. “Yes you will, and thank you.” You replied, trying to hide the blush with your hair as you took your bag from Melissa and finally found peace inside your own classroom.
III.
You walked with your favorite redhead up and down the aisles of the grocery store, picking up ingredients for dinner tonight. After having a rough day, Melissa offered to make you dinner. You agreed, but only if she’d let you be there for every part, including the store. Usually the Italian liked keeping every part of cooking to herself, but she found herself enjoying sharing it with you. Even the mundane aspects like the grocery store were turned into such a lovely time between the two of you.
“I’ll go pick out the onions for the sauce, last time I left the job to someone else I regretted it. Would you mind picking out the wine hon? I’ll meet ya over there and then we can check out.” Melissa asked before leaving the aisle the two of you were in.
“Sure, see you over there,” You replied, and the two of you split ways momentarily. Taking your time, you slowly went down the first aisle of wines, reading each label carefully. Even though Melissa always trusted you with the wine, you were nervous every time. Down the second aisle, a gentleman approached you.
“Need help finding anything ma’am?” He asked. You took a step back from the wines before replying.
“Oh, no, thank you. My friend will be here in just a moment.” You went back to scanning the bottles, but the employee continued talking.
“I see you’re looking at our Bogle merlot! You know there’s a great winery with a merlot that has a very similar palette.”
“That’s nice, is it close by?” You asked to be nice, but didn’t bother looking at the man.
“It is, I know this area very well. Grew up here my whole life.” He replied. A couple minutes passed like this, him grasping at straws to continue the conversation and you completely disinterested. Finally, you grabbed a bottle and started walking away.
“Y’know if that’s all you’re getting I can check you out over here!” He offered. Before you could deny him yourself, a familiar voice spoke up from behind the two of you.
“She’s with me actually, we were just leaving,” Melissa announced her presence and began walking towards the two of you. You hoped the employee couldn’t read her as well as you could, but based on his wide eyes, your hope fell flat. It was clear the redhead was annoyed, and annoyed at him no less. She refused to break eye contact with him, glaring the entire time. When she caught up to you, she didn’t bother slowing down as she looped her arm with yours and continued to the checkout line.
“Took long enough Mel,” You teased, hoping to calm her down. Her lack of response told you it didn’t work. “I’m excited for dinner tonight, and I hope you liked the wine I picked out.”
“I’m sure I will, and I hope that guy loses his job here so he can stop preying on pretty girls that come by to get wine for their dinner plans,” She spat, but not at you. She was good at never making it at you.
“Oh calm down, babe. He was just doing his job,” You lied. You knew he was being a little too nice to you, but Melissa didn’t need to know those details.
“Well he was doing it too well for my liking.”
“I’ll make sure to never leave your side at the grocery store again, that way if another too good employee comes by you can stop them for me,” You joked. Melissa smiled again, and it was a beautiful sight to see.
“Good, I don’t like getting mean in front of ya.”
“Yes, you do!” You laughed. Melissa loved getting an attitude in front of you. She knew you liked it just as much as she did.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
IV.
Melissa knew she had a jealous streak, and when it came to you, a possessive streak as well. Most of the time neither of you minded, it made you feel special and the redhead feel wanted. Occasionally, Melissa had a hard time containing her emotions, especially the feelings she has towards you. She hated when those came to the surface.
So she sat, filled with jealousy and self-pity, as she watched you ignore her existence throughout the entire lunch period. Usually, you sat right next to her, she could talk about her morning and you would listen, occasionally offer advice. She loved getting to hear your version of your morning, since it was usually very dramatic and made her giggle, always.
Not today, though. Today, you were too occupied with the new librarian. Instead of listening to Melissa rambling, you were listening to him. She knew you didn’t like men very much, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you didn’t even greet her and there was only ten minutes left of lunch was enough to ruin her mood. Before the bell rang, Melissa sighed and packed up her things as quickly as she could. She said goodbye to Barbara, but not to you. If you weren’t going to say hello, she wasn’t going to say goodbye. She did, however, give you a dirty look at the last second before the door shut behind her.
You froze, it had been a long, long time since Melissa has given you a look like that one. Usually it was reserved for serious issues or people she didn’t care for too much, so you started going over the day in your head wondering what was going on with her. This morning you hadn’t seen her, and you hadn’t stopped by to chat with her for lunch yet, so-
There it was. With a sigh of relief you ended your conversations and made your way to the feisty redhead’s classroom. Instead of knocking, you slowly opened the door and allowed yourself in.
“Hi lovely, how was your lunch? I didn’t get a chance to talk to you so I wanted to stop by before grabbing the kiddos,” You announced your presence to the other woman, which went almost ignored. It wasn’t until you made it all the way to her desk that she spoke to you.
“Lunch was fine, I noticed you were busy with the fresh new hire so I kept my distance. Seemed like you needed it,” She responded shortly. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted your attention desperately, even if it was negative.
“Melissa...” You started, waiting for her to meet your gaze before continuing. She looked at you with anger, but you knew her, you knew that look. The only other time it happened was when you ditched your plans with her for an impromptu tinder date that went poorly. (She never let you live that mistake down, by the way). She was hurt, her feelings were hurt and she didn’t want to tell you.
“Why are you yelling at me? Is it because I didn’t talk to you all day?” You asked with a hint of teasing in your voice, enough to let Melissa know you were serious but not upset with her. She nodded, still having trouble admitting exactly what was going on inside the beautiful mind of hers.
“You know just because I’m friends with other people doesn’t mean I love you any less. And if you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve done so.”
Melissa sat there for a moment, digesting your words slowly. She looked away before responding. “I know, I just…It’s hard. I want your attention but I don’t want to ask for it. If you’re not giving it to me then I just think you don’t want to anymore.”
“Mel, no, no.” You stepped closer into her bubble and leaned against her desk. “I’ll stop anything I’m doing for you. Just ask, if I’m not showering you with enough love and affection already.” She smiled at that, thankful to realize you weren’t that mad at her.
“Okay, sorry for snapping at you hon. I won’t do it again,” Melissa looked up at you through her eyelashes and pouted out her bottom lip. You knew it would probably happen again, but you didn’t care. After a few months of nonstop flirting and teasing, you figured out Melissa returned some sort of feelings for you. However, it was just as clear that she was scared of whatever this was. Every time the two of you got close to having that conversation, she backed away. You could practically see the words falling off her lips before she would swallow them again. So you remained patient with her, she was worth waiting for. That much you knew.
“It’s okay my love, just save the glare for the other guy next time, yeah?” You playfully shoved her shoulder to punctuate your sentence, which got you an eye roll from the Italian. “Yeah, yeah, you’re fine.” You gave her one more sincere smile and hopped off the desk to go back to your own classroom.
“Hon?” Melissa’s voice stopped you at the door.
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
V.
It had been a few weeks since Melissa’s last “outburst,” if you would even call it that. But the “days since last incident” counter was about to go down to zero.
Melissa sat at the bar, waiting for your drink and hers, as she watched you float between your friends. She let her green eyes roam over your figure, the way your dress hugged your skin so tightly, she wished it was her own hands. The way you so effortlessly swayed your hips to the music, like you didn’t even realize it was happening. The older woman was so mesmerized, she almost missed the bartender setting down the two drinks beside her. As soon as she got sight though, she grabbed them and made her way over to you.
Out of the corner of your eye, there she was, beautiful as ever. It didn’t matter if it was the alcohol or Melissa, but you felt incredible.
“Thank you beautiful, what do I owe ya?” You asked as you grabbed your drink from your friend’s hand.
“How about a dance?” She answered your question with a question. Melissa let you take a couple sips before taking the drink back and dropping them off with your friends. As she turned around, the woman was about as red as her hair when she saw a man coming up behind you getting ready to try and dance.
You don’t know whose hands were on you first, but very quickly you were behind Melissa as she was staring down a much taller man.
“Can we help you?” She yelled more than she asked, keeping an arm over your side as she kept you behind her. You knew what was about to happen, the stranger was going to say something sly, Melissa would say something worse, and you’d calm her down before getting her on the dance floor again. Something in you decided to change that routine though, usually you stayed quiet when she got this way, stayed clear from the path of Schemmenti rage and watched thoroughly entertained.
Instead of staying out of her way this time and waiting for her, you leaned into it. How could you not when Melissa was getting ready to fight someone over you? You placed your hand gently over hers and rested your chin on her shoulder, immediately noticing her eyes flash over to you. Her grip tightened around your thigh in response.
“I was just trying to dance with a pretty girl, didn’t know that was a problem,” The stranger spoke and took a few steps back, throwing his hands up in false surrender.
“It is.” Melissa said, about to take a step forward, unwilling to let him get away. You felt her body shift against you and quickly wrapped your left arm around her, holding her against you.
“Baby, should we step outside for a second?” You asked Melissa, making a point to let her feel your breath linger for a second. She might get onto you for making her so flustered later, but that would be better than getting kicked out for a bar fight.
Without answering, she took your hand in hers and led you to the back exit, ignoring the questioning looks from your friends behind you. The cold wind felt sobering against your hot skin, although your hand was kept warm by Melissa’s. She was gripping it so tightly still, you wondered why she was still so frustrated.
“Mel? Are you okay?” You asked. Letting go of her hand you stood in front of her, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear. Her cheeks were still so red, hands clammy, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look at you so wide-eyed before.
“I...” She started. Melissa looked at your lips for a moment before returning to your gaze. “He can’t touch you like that.”
“I don’t even think he got a chance before you were back over there. Besides, why can’t he?” You challenged her. It was risky, hopefully with a reward.
She tightened her grip on your hand and pulled you close so your bodies were flush together. Sure, you knew a couple tricks to make Melissa blush or get flustered, but she was exceptionally good at it. Her fingers against your lower back started moving back and forth, sending chills up your spine. Her other hand let go of yours and found itself getting tangled in your hair.
“Because dolcezza, can he touch you like this? Hm? Would you be this needy for anyone else? You’re mine, you know you are.” The older woman’s words sent heat through your body.
“Prove it then.”
As quickly as the words were out of your mouth, Melissa’s lips were on yours. She was gentle at first, giving you an opportunity to stop if you want. When your own hands found themselves reaching to touch her more, she knew she got you. Her hand in your hair tugged a bit, and when you moaned in response Melissa took the opportunity to taste you. Feeling her groans against you, because of you, was a new high you would forever be chasing. Her grip on you was tight, she was unrelenting, not wanting to let you out of her sight again.
It was like the past few weeks of Melissa keeping her mouth shut had built up inside of her, she needed you, and she needed you to know that. Feeling herself getting too worked up, she gave you a few more kisses before pulling away. You couldn’t help but whine when she did so, missing her lips already.
“Yknow, I might keep letting people flirt with me if it means you kiss me like that every time,” You softly spoke. Melissa couldn’t help but laugh at that, even though the both of you knew she would not put up with that. Certainly not anymore. You were finally hers.
#melissa schemmenti x reader#abbott elementary#lisa ann walter#abbott elementary fics#reader fic#wlw fic#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti headcanon#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti imagine
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Not like this (P3) II Charles Leclerc x Reader (Mafia AU)
SUMMARY: After losing everything you seek out your biggest and longest-standing enemy to finish it all.
WARNING: Violence, blood, mentions of death
A/N: This one's also short but I've been super busy and haven't had much time to write so this was the best I could do ;(
"For the record, I don't think this is a good idea" Charles spoke as he drove through the familiar streets at night, the two cars behind him containing some of his own men the only thing in sight.
"You invited yourself so you don't get to opine." You refuted.
"This is my car, you're carrying my guns and wearing clothes that I bought you I think I have enough reason to opine." Charles bit back.
"No one told you to let me live...in fact, I told you to kill me so you chose that yourself-" You were going to argue.
"Shut up we're here." Charles interrupted you before you could carry on.
You saw him drive into a hidden road that led to your house which you believed only very few people knew about not including him. "How did you?" You turned to him as he continued driving.
Charles smirked but kept his eyes on the road. "You're not the only sneaky one here."
"Stop the car here, we'll have to walk the rest of the way if we want to go unnoticed." You chose to ignore his previous comment as you were coming closer to your estate.
You both got out of the car and stayed close to the tree line as you approached the house, Charles's men surrounding the other side of the estate in case they saw anything.
"Why the fuck do you need this much land," Charles complained as he wiped some sweat off his forehead from how long you'd been walking.
"More space more control, more people less possibility of someone entering without me knowing...more control." You once again repeated his own words adjusting them slightly earning a glare from him.
"Well obviously that logic didn't work...did it?" Charles also used your own words against you but you had to admit it hurt more than you'd imagined.
Charles noticed how you found no humor in his words instead clearing your throat to disguise the knot that intended to build in it.
"Obviously not." You said in a volume that Charles wouldn't have heard if the silence around you hadn't been so significant.
You were finally coming up on the house and your breath hitched at the bodies you could see laying by the stairs leading up to the main door.
"Are they-" But before Charles could finish asking you'd already run up the closest body.
"Oh my god Ava." You placed your hand on the woman's cheek who lay lifeless right in front of you.
Charles kept a look out at your surroundings making sure nobody was watching now that you were in plain sight and luckily the place seemed to have been abandoned after the attack.
You then quickly moved on to the next bodies by the stairs. "Elijah...Michael." You closed their eyes saying a small prayer hoping they'd found rest.
"You knew all of their names?" Charles asked in a quiet tone not wanting to disturb the silence.
"There might've been a lot of people working for me...but they were all family. Every single one of them." Charles didn't miss the way a tear fell before you wiped your eyes quickly.
You continued your way into the house in the same silence as before not taking it for granted that you hadn't seen or heard anyone around so far. Inside it was worse than outside, with bodies everywhere it was impossible not to step on the blood that had filled the once-white floors.
Charles let you take your time noticing the way you struggled to continue without at least sparing a glance at the men and women who only a few hours before were guarding you.
"I'm-" Charles wasn't sure what to say but maybe letting you hear he was sorry for you would make it better except he didn't get the opportunity.
"Let's go upstairs." You shut him down before he could even get a word in.
Charles could see his men come in from the back door and signaled for them to have a look around downstairs to which they happily obliged. He followed you upstairs as you moved through the space with ease until arriving at what he would assume was your room.
He watched as your hand dropped to your side, the gun you held almost slipping from your grasp as you took in the state of your once sacred space but even more so the woman who lay dead by the foot of your bloodied bed.
It took him completely by surprise when you dropped to your knees in front of the woman and saw how your body shook with the tears you were finally letting escape.
Charles didn't know what to do so simply stepped closer hoping you were able to feel his presence wondering if it had all become too much or if this had been someone truly special.
"Her name was Liz- Elizabeth." You began. "She...she was like a mother to me and-" the knot in your throat stopped you for a second. "She helped me escape. She ran to my room as soon as she heard the attack and found me trying to get my guns to fight back but-" your tears increased as you remembered. "She told me to go. She said they could handle it and that I should go." You rested your forehead against Elizabeth in tears. "I knew what would happen and I still left."
Charles wasn't sure what he was feeling but he had a sudden urge to hug you an urge he would've acted upon if it hadn't been for his men running into the room.
"Gens arrivent." They whispered, guns drawn.
"We have to go c,mon." Charles lowered himself to your level.
You clutched Elizabeth a little harder before placing a kiss on her cold and colorless cheek and leaving her behind.
"Someone's coming, there's cars," Charles whispered to you as he could see the headlights through the window of her room.
"Come." You took his hand dragging him with you.
You entered your bathroom and Charles was convinced you had gone insane if it hadn't been for the fact that you pulled your whole bathroom sink and counter out to reveal a hidden passage.
"What the-" He was impressed.
His men ran through and ahead but Charles stared at the door in awe.
"Hurry!" You whispered pushing him in before following yourself and closing the door behind you.
As soon as she shut the door the dark passage illuminated revealing a long and dark corridor. "This is how I escaped."
"You walked all the way from here to my place with a gunshot wound through your stomach," Charles asked as you began to walk through the passage.
"Adrenaline can make you do crazy things." You responded not bothering to look back at him.
"Why exactly did you go to my place?" Charles rushed to catch up to you.
"I told you, I wanted you to kill me." You once again avoided his eyes.
"If you wanted to die you would've simply let yourself bleed out" Charles grabbed your arm stopping you from walking.
"Wouldn't have been an honorable death." You finally faced him.
"The way I plan to kill you isn't either" You didn't respond and instead there were a few seconds of silence between you both before Charles continued. "so why?"
#f1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#changetyre#f1 one shot#f1fic#formula 1#f1 series#f1mafia#charlesleclerc#chalresleclercmafia#mafiaau#f1mafiaau#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x mafia
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(rated m for mature)
Ava’s room is the last sacred space in their apartment. A room that belongs to Ava, and Ava only. The living room is shared space, of course. Their breakfast bar holds both of their tea mugs: Ava’s in the shape of a bulldog holding a bone, her own a dark gray and white plaid pattern. The bathroom has a small stand with both of their toothbrushes and two face cloths on small hooks, one on each side of the sink. The face of the kitchen refrigerator is littered with pictures and ticket stubs and small post-it-note drawings they’ve both accumulated over the last few months.
We exist, Beatrice, Ava likes to tell her. If we died and someone came to pack us up, they would know we both existed here.
It’s a morbid thought, but it rotates in her mind for days afterwards. They exist. They exist together, in this shared space. There’s two of everything - a testament to a life shared between two people who found comfort in each other. Who found a home. Their shoes are by the front door, their bills are on the counter, their sweaters tangle into knots on the couch where they dare cross the line Beatrice has drawn between them.
Ava’s room is a line. She doesn’t cross it. She lets their shared existence fill every corner of the apartment except for Ava’s bedroom. She’s never crossed the threshold. Even on the day Ava moved in, she dutifully passed her boxes from the living room, marveling at the idea that one person who existed in a single dorm room for a handful of months could accumulate so many things.
She’s not sure that Ava even noticed. If she did, she didn’t say anything about it. Because she’s kind and takes Beatrice’s actions into consideration with the sort of care no one else in her life has ever shown.
But that’s par for the course. Ava is unlike anyone else in her life.
It’s why Beatrice is so careful. She’s gotten used to having this unusual, perfect thing in her life. She’s gripping it tightly with two hands, firm enough to keep it in one place but soft enough that it doesn’t break. It took her years to learn that grip and only a month with Ava to master it in a whole new way.
She should know by now, after seven months, that being careful around Ava is never careful enough.
“Blue or green?” she hears Ava call from inside her room.
Beatrice sighs, resting her pencil tip against the page she’s taking notes on. “Ava.”
Ava’s head pops around the doorframe. She’s smiling in a way a younger Beatrice would have called dashing or roguish. It’s charming. Infuriatingly so. Ava knows it—has never forgotten it since the time Camila said it out loud one night when Ava convinced them to try roller skating at some wooden rink nearby. That smile is a weapon, a carefully drawn bow whose range Beatrice can never escape from.
“Blue or green?” she repeats.
“I’m afraid I need a bit of context, Ava.”
Beatrice resists the urge to rub tiredly at the space between her eyes. Finals week is upon them. She’s prepared - has been preparing all semester - but then her Early Christian Women’s professor gave her some last minute feedback to restructure her entire research paper. It’s left her molded to the stool at the breakfast bar for the last three days, the entire top of it covered in color-coded index cards and texts she’s expressly forbid Ava from going anywhere near.
Ava pinky promised that she would listen. Beatrice would have accepted a confident “okay,” but Ava had taken it a step further, tightening her grip on Beatrice’s pinky and pulling her whole hand up to her mouth as Ava kissed her own fist, eyes on Beatrice the whole time.
“There. Now it’s really a promise.”
Beatrice thinks maybe she didn’t have enough friends growing up. Or that she didn’t have enough friends like Ava growing up. Because she’d never heard of this particular kind of promise. Shannon had made a face when Beatrice asked her about it. No, I’m not making fun of you, Shannon assured her. I just mean… Bea. Come on.
Beatrice does not come on, but the next time Ava makes her promise she won’t throw all her sources out the window and develop a list of new ones, she quickly presses her lips to the outside of her own hand, eyes darting to Ava’s face. Just as a test. Just to see if she’s doing this right.
She must have. Ava beamed for hours.
“Blue paint or green paint?” Ava expands.
“For what?”
Ava extends her arm past the doorway into Beatrice’s view. A small bucket of paint, hardly larger than a box of baking soda, dangles from her fingers.
She holds back the long-suffering sigh building in her chest. “Ava.”
“I’m painting my room.”
“You’re-” Beatrice turns, notecard on Thecla abandoned. “You’re painting your room?”
Ava frowns at her like she’s the one who just announced that she’s completing a home makeover project. “I told you this.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.” Ava’s arm drops to her side, and she leans a little further around the doorway.
Beatrice shakes her head. “You most certainly did not. Because I would have remembered that.”
“You can’t remember everything I say.”
I do. The thought nearly makes its way to Beatrice’s tongue, but she bites it back. She certainly can’t admit that, though she thinks Ava would, if she was in her position. Ava has always been more free in her words, in her certainty.
“I would have remembered this,” she repeats.
Ava shakes her head. “I definitely told you I was doing this. I asked if you wanted to go pick out-”
Her forehead wrinkles into a frown that Beatrice immediately wants to smooth away. She can feel Ava’s skin under her fingertips, warm and soft. She blinks.
“Huh. Maybe I mentioned it to Mary, now that I think about it.” Her face brightens without Beatrice’s help. “I guess I’m telling you now.”
“You can’t- You can’t paint your room.”
Ava nods like she understands. “I can’t paint it alone, no. I’ll need help. Oh! A paint party!”
“No, I mean-” Beatrice takes a deep breath. “We would lose our security deposit if you paint the walls. It’s in our rental agreement.”
That doesn’t seem to bother Ava. “We can just paint it back when we move out. Or if we never do, then no one will ever know.”
If we never do. The words are like a lightning bolt in her chest. If we never do implies that Ava has thought about living with her indefinitely. That Ava has considered the possibility of a future where they're still in each other’s lives, where they’re still living in this same apartment doing the same things together. Movie nights and take out and reading while Ava watches something on TV, and talking about the few hours they spent apart and deciding where to take weekend trips and what new household decoration Ava is going to talk her into.
Their life in shared spaces, for everyone who visits to see.
Forever roommates.
The thought is too overwhelming for her to breathe properly.
“So, will you help me pick a color?” Ava continues on as if Beatrice isn’t slowly burning from the inside out. “I’m thinking green. Blue seems more like your color. Hey! We can paint your room next.”
Beatrice shakes her head. “Ava, no.”
Ava either doesn’t hear her, or pays her no mind. “I got this cool mint color. It looks like mint chocolate chip ice cream!”
“Mint,” she repeats, voice strangled.
Ava beams. “It looks like our toothpaste.”
Dread washes over her, as cold as ice cream out of the freezer against her tongue. Their toothpaste is a frightfully minty green color that always catches Beatrice off guard no matter how many times a day she’s brushed her teeth, even after the ;five months since Ava started buying it. It’s a sickly green, almost. Certainly not something that should be on a wall, let alone four of them. Ava’s room would glow, practically radioactive.
“No,” she insists. “Not that color.”
“Come see it. Then you’ll understand.”
She moves without meaning to, without giving much thought to it. Ava calls like a siren, and she swims out to meet her. She gets as far as the couch before the water comes up to her chin and she stops again.
“I don’t think you should paint your room.”
Ava waves away her concern. “It’ll be fine. The whole room is just so… white. We need a little color in our lives, Bea. A little bit of… spice.”
“A little bit of spice.”
“You know. Excitement.” Ava is firmly in the doorway now, paint can hanging at her side. “We can’t live with white walls forever.”
Why not? she wants to ask. She grew up with white walls. Pristine ones. Washed down every week by their housekeeper. Sanitized. She pauses. Ava might have a point.
But their landlord would not approve of it. And Beatrice intends to stick by the rules. She opens her mouth to say so, but Ava cuts her off.
“Come here. Just have a look.” She pads forward on bare feet and curls her fingers around Beatrice’s wrist, tugging her forward gently enough that Beatrice could step back, break their connection if she needed to.
She doesn’t. Not yet.
But she gets closer and closer to Ava’s doorway, to the raised threshold that separates her from this last sacred space. Ava is stepping back over it, eyes on Beatrice, and then her toes are bumping against it and she stops. Their arms stretch between them for a moment before Ava catches up and steps forward so they hang loosely again.
Ava waits for her. Always waiting for her. It’s not fair, she thinks. It’s not fair that she’s always waiting for me.
“So, I have something to admit,” Ava says slowly, pulling her out of her head. She’s smiling sheepishly, her head ducked a little as she searches Beatrice’s face. “I might have already painted a few swatches on the wall.”
“Ava.”
“Just a few,” she rushes on. “Small ones. Like, the size of a book. A small one! I’m sorry, I just wanted to see what they looked like.” She strokes her thumb over Beatrice’s wrist. “The mint kind of looks horrible,” she admits.
Beatrice fights that never-ending sigh again. “Of course it does.”
“But the other green looks good! It’s kind of turquoise-y, actually.” Ava’s forehead wrinkles into a frown that lingers for just a second. “Greener than a normal turquoise, though. Almost like the sea. Like - okay, just look.”
Ava’s hand falls away, and she takes a step back into her room. She’s looking at the wall, eyes moving quickly over what Beatrice assumes is the paint swatches she’s done there.
She eases her weight onto the ball of her foot. The floorboard creaks under it. Ava is still looking at the wall, still studying her choices. Beatrice feels a ripple of fear race through her. It’s just a room. Their apartment is made up of rooms. But it’s Ava’s room. Opening this door, crossing this line - she’s not sure she can come back from that.
Ava meets her eyes again and tips her head in that effortlessly endearing way, a soft smile on her face that immediately ebbs the fear away. Ava crooks a finger in her direction, beckoning her forward. It’s like a piece of string loops its way around Beatrice’s wrist and it pulls.
“You’re going to like the turquoise,” Ava says just quietly enough for Beatrice to hear. Another siren’s call.
She’s a strong swimmer. She can survive this. Her toes brush the raised threshold, and then they’re curled over the other side of it as her shoulders breach the doorway. The air shifts. She feels a little lightheaded. The lights seem dimmed, lowered. She holds her breath and waits for God to strike her down, and when nothing happens, she silently exhales a thin stream of air.
She doesn’t go further than that. Her body doesn’t seem to want to move past the invisible line that goes from the ceiling down directly to the floor. Her eyes immediately go to the wall Ava was looking at.
She was correct. The mint looks horrible.
“I know,” Ava says, reading her mind. “It looked a lot better at the store. Maybe it’s the light?”
It takes Beatrice a minute to reply, almost as if the words were a trade for tipping forward into Ava’s room. “I don’t think different lighting is going to help this.”
Ava studies it for another moment before she nods decisively. “You’re right. But what about this green-turquoise?” She moves and touches her finger to the wall. It comes back with a sticky greenish color. She frowns at it. “Huh. Thought it’d dry.”
“I like it,” Beatrice allows. “But Ava-”
“I promise we’ll paint it back. I just…” Ava stops, running a hand through her hair. She leaves behind a smudge of turquoise on her forehead, disappearing into her hair. “It’ll be easy to paint back. Please, Bea?” She clasps her hand in front of her, holding them to her chest. “Pleeeease?”
They both realize she’s going to give in at the same moment. Beatrice didn’t think she had any tells, has always prided herself on being someone fully in control of their actions, emotions, and facial expressions. Lessons learned from her parents that she actually appreciated. Expressive got you in trouble, gave too much away. She spent years tightening up to prevent anyone from knowing too much.
Ava does not carry the same burden. And Ava, it appears, has learned to recognize when Beatrice is on the cusp of expressing too much, of giving in. Maybe she’s giving it away in the quick pull of the corner of her mouth. Maybe there’s something in her eyes, a flicker of acceptance. Maybe she clenches her hand into a fist, a small flex of her muscles. Maybe she shifts her weight. Maybe she blinks too many times.
Whatever it is, Ava sees it in her. And she grins, the light in the room becoming impossibly brighter.
“I want nothing to do with this,” is what she decides to say.
Ava claps her hands together. “You won’t regret this.”
“I’m sure I will.”
It doesn’t dim Ava’s smile. “When I’m done, you’ll see how much it brings this place to life. And then we talk about your room. And the living room! Oh, and wouldn’t the kitchen look so great if we painted it some kind of blue? I saw a swatch at the store that looked exactly like the water in the Blue Grotto. I want to go there one day. I always thought it would look-”
Beatrice steps back. Something that was fizzling inside of her fades, though she didn’t know it was there until she felt its absence. Ava is still going on – the bathroom would look good in pink. With black and white tiles on the floor – but Beatrice feels a sense of calm come over her, and she takes her first deep breath since she crossed the threshold.
Ava stops. “I’m getting ahead of myself,” she says sheepishly.
“It’s okay.” And it is. Beatrice doesn’t mind getting swept up in Ava’s elaborate plans. “But I’m going to go back to my homework.”
Ava flashes her a thumbs up. Her finger is still stained turquoise. “Okay. But you’re not studying for too long. We can’t have a repeat of this weekend.”
Beatrice feels her face flush. “I swore I went to bed.”
“You did. Standing in front of the refrigerator. I thought you were going to fall over.”
“I’m very disciplined.”
Ava grins. “Well, put a cap on studying tonight. When I’m done with the first coat, we’re going to get something to eat.”
She pretends to be annoyed by this, just because she likes the way Ava narrows her eyes playfully and shakes a finger at her. She’s not disappointed when Ava does exactly that before turning back to the stool she stole from the kitchen where she’s stacked two small paint cans, one open and one closed, and a paint roller.
Crossing the room back towards her homework is easier than going the distance from it to Ava’s room. She feels lighter with each step. She sits back down, her intention to focus on this paper she’s supposed to submit in two days (but feels nowhere near completion). Work, then break. As long as she works for the next hour, at least, then she can offer to buy Ava Indian food and ask her to watch a documentary about a filmmaker befriending an octopus. Cedrick, in her Study of Film elective, had suggested it to her. She doesn’t think it’ll be hard; Ava has said more than once that she thinks octopi are cute.
But as thoughts of Ava and octopi float in her head, some of the words Ava just mentioned start to register in Beatrice’ brain. Ava never mentioned the Blue Grotto before. They’re inching closer to the end of the school year and she doesn’t know Ava’s plans yet. Does she want to go backpacking across Europe? Alone? Will Beatrice have to haunt the corners of the apartment waiting for her to come back? Will Ava be different when she comes back? Will she forget about Beatrice?
Will she find a new forever-roommate in another city and leave Beatrice on her own?
Her homework is suddenly the furthest thing from her mind. She can’t focus on Eve or Thecla or their impact on the religious narrative. She can only think about the possibility of spending the summer alone - Mary and Shannon are going on a graduation trip across Spain, and Camila secured a summer internship with a tech startup company, and even Lilith found a program that allows her to travel for the few months before the start of the fall semester.
Beatrice’s big plan is to work at the campus library, splitting her time between shelving books, starting her graduation capstone project, and Ava. The practical side of her knows she should try to make that time an even three-way split, but the more she thinks about the coming months, the more adventures she keeps coming up with in her head. Things she wants to do and try with Ava, because she knows it’s on Ava’s list. They could visit the Prado Museum. Take a long weekend and travel to some seaside town where Ava could practice swimming in the waves. They could find new restaurants and new hiking trails. She’d even let Ava convince her to try roller skating. Again.
Beatrice hasn’t told her yet, but she has the whole summer mapped out. And Ava is embedded into every bullet point of that. It just hadn’t occurred to her that Ava might have her own plans. Ones that didn’t include Beatrice.
“Ow!”
Beatrice’s head snaps up. The sudden noise is followed by a heavy thud, thud and a rattle as something hits the floor. She’s up and moving before she has time to second guess herself, crossing the apartment in long strides until she’s reaching Ava’s room.
She crosses the threshold in a breath, suddenly plunged into the smell of paint and the sight of the bright lights Ava has rigged up in the center of the room. It nearly blinds her and she quickly looks at the ground.
Ava is lying on the thick, plush navy rug at the bottom of the bed, body curled in on itself as she clutches her foot. A small unopened can of paint is rolling slowly away from her towards the corner of the room. Ava groans loudly and turns her face into the rug as her whole body expands with a breath.
Beatrice drops to her knees, ignoring the dull ache that rockets up her thighs into her hips. She grabs Ava’s shoulders, turning her onto her back as her eyes scan Ava’s face for any blood or bruises. Her hands follow the same path, tucking Ava’s hair behind her ear and trailing her thumbs across the flat of Ava’s cheeks.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
Ava’s eyes flutter closed, and Beatrice immediately becomes concerned about a concussion. Her fingers slide to the base of Ava’s head, and she applies a little pressure to tip it back. Ava’s still blinking up at her but as the light reflects against the honeyed color of her irises her pupils shrink. Beatrice heaves a relieved sigh. No concussion.
“Bea,” Ava groans again. She turns her face into Beatrice’s palm. “I think I broke it.”
Beatrice’s hands fall from Ava’s face and skim down her shoulders to her elbows, cupping them gently. “Let me see,” she says softly.
Ava shakes her head. “Just leave me behind.”
A rush of fondness ripples through her. She presses her fingertips into Ava’s bare arms, the sleeves of her This may be cheesy but I feel grate t-shirt brushing against the backs of Beatrice’s knuckles. “Ava,” she urges.
“No, it’s too horrible.” Ava’s grip tightens on her foot and she immediately winces.
Beatrice slides her hands down to Ava’s slowly. She curls her fingers into the spaces between Ava’s and her foot, pushing them back until she has enough room to free Ava’s foot from its self-imposed prison. There’s a bruise already forming at the base of her toes on the top of her foot, blooming across the first three toes. She ghosts her thumb across it and Ava flinches slightly.
Beatrice’s lips purse into a frown. “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.” Ava rolls completely onto her back, staring up at Beatrice. She’s still blinking rapidly and Beatrice is worried about a delayed concussion now.
“I think you’ve bruised it.” She presses down, gentler this time. Ava draws in a breath but doesn’t flinch away. “I don’t think anything is broken.”
Her hand drifts higher, curling around Ava’s ankle bone. It’s delicate under her fingers, the point rounded. Her other hand, still resting on Ava’s foot, goes to her other shin. There’s nothing but an expanse of smooth and warm skin under her palm.
“Good,” Ava says faintly. Her eyes go to Beatrice’s hand, lingering.
Beatrice’s eyes follow. Oh. She quickly pulls her hands away, cheeks suddenly hot.
“I didn’t mean to-”
“You don’t have to-”
They both pause, staring at each other. The air feels electric, goosebumps running up Beatrice’s arms. Her chest feels tight with unspoken words. She looks away first.
Ava’s hand on her own pulls her eyes back around. She looks at Beatrice for a long moment before she smiles a little. There’s something on her face that Beatrice can’t read, but it settles the rising tide of fear in her chest and she feels it ebb away into nothingness.
It’s not unusual, the sense of calm that comes with a simple look from Ava. It’s a peace that feels second nature now. It’s odd how seven months with Ava has untied almost all the knots her life created. Seven months isn’t very long - a blip on the radar, really. She’s had the same study group for longer than that. But these seven months have felt so monumental that it seems to have lasted years.
But Ava is monumental, so really, it does make sense.
Still. Her hands got ahead of her head. She touched before she thought, and now she’s kneeling on Ava’s floor with her hands hovering between their bodies, and Ava’s eyes are even more honey-colored than usual. The lights reflecting off the white walls makes her feel like she’s under a spotlight on a stage where everyone can see her, here in Ava’s room.
In Ava’s room, across the threshold. Completely across it.
A line she hasn’t crossed, a step she hasn’t taken. The room rushes in on her suddenly. She’s hyper aware of the faint chemical smell of paint, the too-bright lights, the rough fibers of the rug against her bare ankles, the way Ava’s laundry seems to be crawling out of the basket in the corner.
“I’m-”
“Don’t apologize.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Bea.”
“I’ll just-”
“Beatrice.”
Beatrice blinks. Ava’s hand has turned over in hers, her palm up. “Yes?”
“Help me up?”
Beatrice blinks again. “Oh. Yes.” She shifts back onto her heels and grabs Ava’s wrist, fingers spread to distribute her grasp so she doesn’t pull Ava’s wrist off her arm, and gently leads her forward. She wobbles as she rises, leaning into Beatrice for support, and Beatrice quickly winds an arm around her waist to steady her as she stands. They’re so close that Beatrice can feel the way Ava is breathing, the push of her ribs against Beatrice’s hand. She helps her to the bed carefully, cautious of the paint around them, and sits her down gently.
There’s more turquoise paint along her forehead, and dried paint on her fingers, and Beatrice wants to find a clean washcloth, wet it, and gently wash it away. She does the next best thing.
She picks up a rag next to the small container of water Ava must be using to clean the brushes and dips the corner into it, wetting it. She hands it to Ava and waits as she rubs furiously at her finger, washing the paint away.
“What happened?”
Ava sighs, eyes narrowing as she looks at the unopened paint can on the ground. It’s rolled across her room away from them. Luckily, the open can remains in place on the stool, the paintbrush hanging precariously on the edge of it.
“I went to reach for the paintbrush and knocked it off. Freaking thing landed on my foot. Obviously.”
Beatrice’s free hand goes to Ava’s foot. Her thumb sweeps across the bruise. Ava’s fingers flex against the back of Beatrice’s forearms. “You are lucky it didn’t break anything.”
Ava shudders. “Manuel, one of the guys on my floor when I lived in the dorms, he broke his foot the first month in. He had to wear a big walking boot for weeks. It was so ugly.”
“It would hardly go with your outfits,” Beatrice agrees.
“How would I even get my jeans on?” Ava frowns thoughtfully. “I’d have to walk around in my underwear all day.”
Beatrice nearly chokes on a cough, but she swallows it back down, uncomfortable in her throat. “I think… I think you could remove it to put your clothes on,” she says, her voice too light to be her own.
Ava’s face flushes unusually. “Oh, right. Of course.” She starts to smile wickedly. “Don’t want me walking around in my underwear, of course.”
Beatrice doesn’t quite hide her blush like she hid her cough. Because she has envisioned Ava walking around in her underwear before, just with one of Beatrice’s big sweaters dusting her thighs and coming down over her hands. She quickly blinks, turning the image to black in her mind. It was a passing thought, just once. She never had it again. It was unfair to Ava to even begin to form that picture in her mind. It flashes in her head like a bang now and she tightens her grip on Ava’s wrist, suddenly aware she’s still holding on.
She goes for a strangled joke. “It would prevent Lilith from coming over.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Ava latches onto it. Her eyes light up. “Consider it done.”
Beatrice immediately concerns herself with something else. Ava’s foot.
“Let me get you some ice,” she says. Her voice doesn’t waver this time. Shannon, if she knew about this, would be proud. She’d praise Beatrice’s restraint, call it admirable.
Shannon would also probably tell her that she should do something that would completely change the trajectory of her friendship with Ava. So maybe the Shannon in her mind should be a little quieter.
“I don’t think I need ice.”
Beatrice looks down at the bruise, darker now, and then gives Ava a pointed look. It has the desired effect. Ava’s cheeks pinken and she smiles sheepishly. Beatrice nods, assured in her success, and carefully extracts her hands from Ava’s foot, standing.
“I’ll be right back,” she promises. “Don’t forget the paint on your forehead”
Ava carefully taps her foot, higher than the bruise. “Not going anywhere.”
Beatrice could argue that Ava could go somewhere. It’s not broken. It’s uncomfortable, of course. She once flexed her foot at the wrong moment and kicked a pine board toes-first. The bruise remained for weeks and the slight limp from accommodating the pain had lasted a little longer than that.
But Ava wipes her forehead carelessly and falls back onto her bed, hands hanging over each side of the bed in a T-shape as her legs dangle off the end. Her shirt rides up her flat stomach revealing a sliver of skin Beatrice wants to run her fingernail over. Ava’s eyes are closed, head tipped back just enough for her chin to lift up, exposing the long unbroken line of her neck.
Beatrice looks away before another thought rushes unbidden into her mind. Her cheeks burn.
“I’ll be right back,” she repeats, unnecessarily. Ava hums on the bed.
She doesn’t linger, striding out of the room and across the apartment. She opens the freezer, welcoming the blast of cold air against her face. She takes a moment, almost forgetting why she’s standing there. But Ava calls her name from the bedroom, and Beatrice remembers quickly. The ice maker hasn’t worked in a few weeks - she makes a mental note to have Mary look at it before she calls her landlord - but Ava only found that as an excuse to buy increasingly ridiculous ice cube trays.
It takes her a minute to decide between ice cube shapes. Ava went a little crazy online, buying shark fin-shaped ones, brain-shaped ones, ones shaped like ice monsters and another set shaped like centipedes. Beatrice decides on ones shaped like rubber ducks, twisting the silicone tray so they pop out. She wraps them in a cloth quickly so her hands don’t get too cold.
Crossing the room feels like a walk she’s made a hundred times before. She knows in her mind that it’s only been twice but now that she’s opened the flood gate, her feet move her without thought. Past the books and notes she’s abandoned, the armchair, the couch. She pauses just before Ava’s bedroom, toes against the threshold.
She crosses it as easily as she exhales.
Ava is still laying on her back, an approximation of a cross as she rests with her eyes closed. Beatrice watches her chest rise and fall as she breathes in and out evenly. There’s a beauty in simplicity, she’s always thought so. Ava only strengthens that.
“Ice,” she says quietly, unsure of why she doesn’t want to say anything at all. She doesn’t want to break this moment, startle Ava and ruin the weightlessness of it.
Ava cracks one eye open, a half-smile on her face. “You’re back.”
Beatrice holds out the ice. Ava crooks a finger at her, beckoning her closer. She hesitates. Ava pushes up, resting on her elbows now.
“I think we’ve established that I don’t bite.” That smile turns wicked again. “Unless you ask nicely.”
Her fingers clench around the ice, and she feels the cold bite at her skin. But she stays still, not giving anything else away.
Ava sits up, foot dangling over the end of the bed. She rests her palms flat against the comforter before she pushes up and stands. She puts her weight down on her foot and her leg buckles almost instantly.
Beatrice doesn’t think, arms looping tightly around Ava’s waist and pulling up her. Her fingers slide into the dips of Ava’s back, the ice trapped between one of her palms and Ava’s skin. Her feet tangle with Ava’s. Their hips are nearly pressed together, almost no space between them. Ava exhales in a noisy rush, lips twisted in a grimace. Beatrice feels the hot air against her collarbone.
“Are you okay?”
Ava tilts her head back slightly. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”
Beatrice’s mouth flickers in a smile. “No.”
“Then we’ll just assume the answer.” Ava’s hands are wrapped tightly around her elbows and her fingers flex against the back of Beatrice’s arms. “Wow. Do you work out?”
“You know that I do.” She keeps her voice light.
Ava’s fingers dance further up her arms, under the hem of her sleeve. She squeezes again, gently. “Yeah, well knowing you do, seeing you do it, and feeling its effects are three very different things.”
Her fingers are maddening, burning hot against Beatrice’s skin. Ava rubs her thumb in a small circle over her bicep.
“Really, Bea. You could probably crush an egg with these things.”
She frowns. “Why would I want to crush an egg?”
“Well, it’d be a way to spice up breakfast.” She presses gently, dimpling the skin. “And a killer party trick.”
Beatrice fights a shiver despite the way her skin feels like it’s burning. “I don’t go to parties.”
But that’s a lie. She does when Ava invites her. She thinks of the party they went to, the spinning disco lights and the way Ava’s body pressed against hers in the hot swell of sweaty, drunken students. She thinks of Ava slumped over on their couch later, saying she’d wait for Beatrice.
That voice that sounds just like Shannon’s whispers that it means exactly what Beatrice hopes it means. She’s never been good at telling Shannon to stop, but this is easy enough to sweep under the mental rug so it remains unknown and unseen.
Truth unknown and unseen is still truth, Shannon has said before. I read that on Pintrest.
Beatrice shakes the memory from her mind and focuses on the facts in front of her: Ava. Ava, close enough to breathe in. Close enough that Beatrice could eliminate the mere inches between them and-
“I bet you’d go to more parties if you had a party trick,” Ava interrupts.
“I doubt it.” But Ava is grinning and Beatrice can’t help but smile back. “But I’m sure you could convince Mary to give it a try.”
“I mean, Mary has decent biceps, but I don’t think she could crack an egg.”
Beatrice shakes her head. “Why an egg? Why not, I don’t know. A walnut.”
“A walnut. These are good goals.” Ava squeezes Beatrice’s bicep once more to emphasize her words. “Let’s start with an egg and work our way to something more advanced.”
The flex of Ava’s fingers against her skin pulls her from her next thought. It’s not that she didn’t notice the lack of space between them, it’s just that it’s rushing in on her now. It’s dizzying, the way Ava is standing so close. Beatrice tries to breathe in, but her chest pushes out until it nearly brushes Ava’s and she’s sucking all the air back into her lungs just as quickly.
Ava notices, eyes dropping down past Beatrice’s chin and neck before they dart up again, crinkling at the corners. She takes a step back, dropping to the bed again, the ice in her hand. She pulls one leg up under her, chin resting on her knee as she puts the ice against her bruising foot.
Beatrice blinks, oddly cool air rushing in where Ava’s body had been despite the humid air of their apartment as the spring pushes towards the hot summer. “You’ll need to ice that for a bit.”
Ava nods, adjusting the ice for a moment before she looks up and says, “So, first time?”
Beatrice frowns. “Administering first aid?”
“First time being in here. Properly, I mean.” Ava looks around, throwing one arm wide. “What do you think?”
Beatrice takes stock of her situation. It’s technically her third time being in here, but Ava is right. She’s in here properly now. Not just over the threshold or charging through barriers because Ava’s been injured. She crossed the line intentionally this time. And she remains, the walls of Ava’s room coming at her from each side without boxing her in.
Ava’s laundry flows from the hamper. Her bed isn’t quite made, but isn’t quite a mess. There are books stacked on the desk in a way that tells Beatrice Ava hasn’t opened them in some time. Hobbes sits next to them. A series of pictures is on the wall opposite her desk, ones of her and Ava and the rest of their friends. Beatrice’s eyes catalog each inch, committing it to memory in a place where she knows she’s going to see it for a very long time.
“You’re missing the best part,” Ava says. Her voice is quiet, like she’s afraid to startle Beatrice. She waits until Beatrice looks before she points upward.
Beatrice’s eyes follow the imaginary thread from Ava’s fingertip to the ceiling. She nearly gasps.
White-green stars dot the ceiling, filling all the space. Spider web-thin lines connect some of them, forming constellations she recognizes from the pictures Ava has shown her and the ones Ava has pointed out on rare nights when she can convince Beatrice to go out to the quad and lay on the grass to watch the night pass by. Some of them she doesn’t and she focuses on those ones, studying their shapes and trying to decide what they look like.
“Apus.” Ava’s finger moves, tracing the lines she’s drawn between the glow-in-the-dark stars. “We call it the Bird of Paradise. Derived from the Greek word apous, which means ‘footless’. There’s a story that birds of paradise were once believed to have been footless.”
“I don’t believe I know what a bird of paradise looks like,” she admits.
“My mom loved them. She’d never seen one in person, but she liked looking at pictures of them. They have these large plumes. They look so soft.” Ava sighs wistfully. “There was a nun, in the orphanage when I was first there, that called me a bird of paradise.” She pauses, eyes darting to Beatrice. “Because I was footless, you know? She reminded me of my mom. She didn’t stay long, but she was nice.”
Beatrice’s heart clenches as it always does when Ava talks about her past. But this is a softer ache, a longing to thank this woman who showed Ava a sliver of mercy.
“And that’s Grus, the crane,” Ava continues. “Originally, it was part of another constellation, Piscis Austrinus. But a Dutch astronomer defined it as its own separate constellation. Its brightest star is Al Na’ir. It’s Arabic for ‘bright one’ which feels a little on the nose.”
Beatrice studies its shape, noting the bigger star that Ava must have defined as Al Na’ir. “Why do you like this one?”
Ava thinks for a moment. “Did you know that cranes have the ability to fly over the Himalayas? They can. They can go as high as 8,000 meters. Imagine being that high up, feeling the wind in your hair.” She blinks, looking off towards the wall littered with paint swatches. “I spent so long tied to one place that the idea of being able to fly over a mountain, to graze the tip of it with a set of wings, sounded like a fairytale.”
Beatrice slides her hand over Ava’s, fingertips resting in the dips between her knuckles. “I think we could hike the Himalayas one day, if you wanted to.”
Ava looks down at their hands and blinks before her eyes meet Beatrice’s. “You think so?”
“I think you could do anything you want to do.”
Ava doesn’t blink this time, doesn’t even look away. “If I can do anything I want to do, I want to…” She pauses, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip.
Beatrice waits, but the rest of Ava’s sentence doesn’t come. She clears her throat. “What do you-”
“Did you see that one?” Ava asks, interrupting her and pointing up at the ceiling.
Beatrice blinks, startled at the intensity of Ava’s voice. She searches Ava’s face but it’s unreadable, a mix of something Beatrice can’t quite put a name to. So she looks up helplessly, searching for what Ava is pointing at.
“That’s Drago.”
“The dragon,” Beatrice translates. “What’s his story?”
Ava shrugs. “He’s just fucking cool.”
A sharp laugh slips out from between her lips and Ava grins widely back at her.
“So, you like it, then.” Ava looks around her room and nods to herself. “It’s a pretty great room, isn’t it?”
“It’s very… Ava,” Beatrice allows. She’s smiling though, hoping that her words don’t sting.
“Isn’t that all I can hope for?” Ava sighs and turns her hand over so her palm presses against Beatrice’s. “But can I ask another question?”
When she breathes out, “anything”, she means it.
Ava hesitates still. “You never come in here,” she says slowly. “Why not?”
Something tightens in her chest. Words rise in her throat and she swallows them back down, a reflex more than anything else. Ava must notice something pass over her face or feel the way that Beatrice’s hand jumps in hers, because strong and warm fingers stroke up her wrist as they lock around the bone, keeping her anchored to the moment.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Ava rushes on. “I’m just… curious, I guess.” She smiles crookedly. “Does it smell in here?”
Yes. Like something deep and woodsy and so uniquely Ava.
Ava’s nose wrinkles. “Does it? Because if it does, I-”
“It doesn’t.” Beatrice’s voice is too loud. “It doesn’t,” she says, softer now.
Ava’s frown doesn’t smooth out. “Then… why?”
It’s not you, it’s me, her mind supplies. She doesn’t say that. She thinks about how to put it into words, how to unpack all the things she tidied away and put in a cedar chest, locking it tight. Nothing comes from it, just an empty explanation that won’t make sense if she says it out loud.
But Ava is her best friend. And if it doesn’t make sense, if the words don’t come out right, she’ll wait patiently for Beatrice to try again. She’ll sit here, one leg tucked up as ice melts through a washcloth and she’ll wait for Beatrice to find the right words.
I’d wait for you forever, Ava had said, lips loose with party punch. And Beatrice believed her.
Ava makes her brave. Brave enough not to make an offhand joke and turn the conversation back on the open can of paint and the paintbrush quickly drying out.
Instead, she clears her throat and straightens up, the first thing she does when an image of her parents enters her mind. And Ava doesn’t let go of her wrist, moving with her instead, ebbing and flowing with her seamlessly. Beatrice turns to face Ava, watching Ava mirror her, and she exhales out the tension building in her muscles.
“Bea, if you don’t want to-”
“I do.”
She does. Holding onto these things makes her feel heavy. And almost more than anything - but not more than wanting Ava - she wants to be lighter.
Ava shakes her head. “I’m serious.”
Beatrice grips Ava’s other hand, their arms tangled around each other. “I… I have to.”
“Okay,” Ava says softly. Her smile is the same. “Whatever you want to tell me, I want to hear.”
Ava isn’t always sledgehammer, she realizes. She thinks of her as a hammer, crashing into everything and leaving a wake of needed destruction in her wake. But Ava is also a set of picks, quietly and discreetly slipping into the lock around her. For all the stomping around she does, all the things she knocks over in her haste to get from one moment to the next, she’s also deft, hands built with finesse.
Beatrice tries to find the start. Was it Penelope Marshall? Was it the start of boarding school? Was it her parents finding her journal when she was thirteen? Was it all the time she spent with the diplomat’s daughter? Was it her fifth birthday when she cried because her parents bought her the dress with the pink frills instead of the bicycle she wanted?
“My parents…”
“I hate them.”
She doesn’t chide Ava for saying so. A deep, angry part of her hates her parents too. She smiles humorlessly. “They sent me to boarding school, as you know. When I was thirteen. Right at Christmas time. I remember it because it was my present that year. An ‘opportunity to further my education in an environment that would foster appropriate and lifelong lessons’,” she quotes. She can remember the brochure she’d been given unceremoniously, a smiling girl on the front. Even in print, Beatrice could see the hollow light in her eyes.
“Appropriate,” Ava scoffs. “Like anything they did was appropriate.”
Beatrice feels Ava’s pulse thunder under her fingers. “They said it would give me a framework for my life. Lucille Thomason had graduated from there a year before and she was going to Oxford, on her way to inheriting her mother’s social calendar. My mother always fawned over her at dinners. ‘Lucille is following the plans her mother set out for her. Lucille has accomplished so much at such a young age.’”
“Lucille sounds like a loser.”
“Lucille sounded exactly like the daughter my mother wanted.”
Ava frowns softly. “You know that you’re leagues above whoever Lucille is.”
“I didn’t think so,” she admits. “Lucille was someone to admire. Her achievements were something to strive for. She had something I so desperately wanted when I was younger: my mother’s approval. And so, when they presented the option-” She stops herself. “It wasn’t an option. But when they presented their plan, I reconciled myself with it by reminding myself that Lucille was leading a very successful life.”
“There’s more to life than success,” Ava says gently.
Beatrice smiles a little. “To you. To me. But to my parents, there is nothing more.” She takes a deep breath. “And if they were framing it as me taking an opportunity to lead a successful life, then they would forget about… the things they were discovering about me.”
Ava immediately tenses. The Beatrice she is now knows it for what it is: an attempt to contain her anger. The Beatrice she was months ago would have worried. Was Ava afraid of her? Was Ava disgusted by her? The thoughts had swirled that movie night. What if she did admit to a crush on Patricia Velasquez? Would this new person she wanted so badly to be around, without knowing why, suddenly change her mind once she found out the truth?
But Ava hadn’t. Ava won’t. Beatrice knows it with every fiber of her being. There are very few absolute truths in the world, but this is one of them.
“They read my journal, you know,” she continues. The words are coming out easily, this tiny fissure in her chest cracking open as Ava looks at her with wide and trusting eyes. “A new girl started school at the beginning of the term. Her name was Mina. Her father was in banking, I believe. She had the bluest eyes I had ever seen in my life.”
Ava scoffs lightly. “Blue eyes.”
She skims the pad of her thumb over Ava’s wrist. “One day, our hands brushed. It was something simple, innocent. She was passing me a paper, and we miscalculated the distance. I’m sure it meant nothing to her.”
“It meant something to you,” Ava guesses.
“I was thirteen. Everything meant something.” Beatrice sighs, feeling her chest rise and fall heavily. “And anything that meant something to me went into my journal. I just didn’t know that what went into my journal eventually landed in my parents’ hands.”
“So those bastards went through your private journal and read about some girl who touched your hand,” Ava hisses. “I swear, the minute I meet them, it’s fist to face. They don’t call me The Piraya for nothing, you know.”
“No one calls you that.”
“They might call me that, you don’t know. I have a whole superhero persona you don’t know about.” Ava puffs out her chest a little bit.
“The name Piraya implies you’re more of a villain than a superhero.”
“I’m a villain’s villain. How’s that?”
The trickle of despair of dragging this up again fades as Ava’s smile widens. She knows what Ava is doing. But she doesn’t stop her, grateful for the brevity and the way it makes her feel like she’s grounded in something, not floating listlessly and endlessly in her terrible memories.
“I mean it.” Ava’s voice drops, low and serious. “I’ll be their worst nightmare.”
“I’m afraid that role is already taken,” she says quietly. “Though, I don’t think they intended for it to be their daughter.” She sighs. She used to be her mother’s doll. But once she started moving her own parts, she found herself moving in the opposite direction.
“Bea,” Ava whispers. She tightens her grip on Beatrice’s wrist.
“I remember I wrote that touching her hand was as if the heavens opened up and I finally understood what song the angels were singing. We were in the middle of a poetry unit, and I fancied myself quite good at it.” She lets out a dry chuckle. “When I found them in the kitchen one night holding onto my journal I foolishly thought they had found out I was reading Emily Dickenson instead of studying for my science exam.”
Beatrice remembers coming down the stairs, flushed with the late November cold. Mina had invited her for dinner the next night, and she promised to show Beatrice the new video game she got. Beatrice didn’t care about those kinds of things, but no one else had gotten an invitation to Mina’s. Beatrice felt special.
But her parents’ faces had stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t notice her journal at first. It was made to look discreet, not to stand out. It had blended into her mother’s dark skirt, and it wasn’t until her mother raised it into the air that she saw it for what it was.
They asked her to explain herself. She wasn’t sure what they wanted her to explain, not at first. She stumbled through an apology about delaying her studying; she’d do it immediately and ask her teacher for an extra take home lesson. She scrambled through a rushed explanation about having new friends meant more opportunities for networking. With new friends, she could join a new club. It would do well on her list of extracurriculars.
It wasn’t until her mother spit out the name Mina that she had any idea of what she was supposed to be afraid of.
“What did they say?” Ava asks gently.
“They didn’t have to say much. There were questions about who Mina was. My mother had a particular talent of making something that wasn’t a swear sound like it. And she hissed Mina’s name like it was the dirtiest word she could say.”
Beatrice thinks of Mina now. Where was she? What was she doing? Beatrice never heard from her after she left. No letters, no calls. She came and went in her life so quickly, it was as if Beatrice made her up. The only sign that she had been there was the page missing from her journal, returned to her the night before she left for school.
“They demanded to know what she had done to me. What had I done to her? I was so confused. She had touched my hand. I certainly hadn’t…” Beatrice’s chest hitches at the thought. “It was a fleeting moment, but I learned that fleeting moments were the most damaging ones. That,” she says dryly. “And that locks do nothing to keep a determined person out.”
“Locks are meant to keep people out,” Ava all but hisses. She sighs, working her fingers up Beatrice’s arm to her elbow. They rest in the dip of her arm, right over the thin vein under Beatrice’s skin. “God, Bea. I’m so sorry. They were - are - horrible. No one should have had to go through that. Especially not you.”
Especially not you, Ava says. Like Beatrice is better than anyone else. Like she should exist under different rules.
“Of course you’re afraid,” Ava says quietly, speaking to herself. She raises her voice, talking to Beatrice now. “Of course you’re worried about even - Jesus, Bea. Touching a girl’s hand?” She looks down as if she’s suddenly noticing how she’s knotted herself around Beatrice’s arm. She laughs dryly. “What would they say if they saw us now?”
Ava means what if they saw me comforting you? Not what if they saw how I touch you like nothing else matters?
The answer would be the same: her mother would simply set fire to the room.
The chasm is widening now. She’s cracked the seam on these memories, and her mind is cycling through the events that followed: a new suitcase set, pink with her name on an address tag; a set of starched uniforms that felt like coarse wool against her skin; a final meal in her parents’ formal dining room, the chef-of-the-week uncaring of her dislike for persimmons; a single plane ticket pressed into her hand and a dismissive nod as a car pulled away from the airport, leaving her alone.
She tells Ava this in stilted words, as if narrating someone else’s life. But then it starts to sink in, the anger. And it spreads in her belly, burning into a rage. She feels the moment the numbness transitions to an inferno. She hears herself exhale the word alone and something snaps.
“They had no right,” she says. Even through her anger, the words surprise her.
Ava’s voice sounds hoarse, unused. “They didn’t.”
“I was a child. Their child.” Her hand clenches tightly into a fist, Ava’s hand moving with the flex of her forearm muscle. “A ‘problem’ arose and they just…” She stops. “They strung me along until I was no longer of use to them.”
“You are not a problem.” Ava's voice is low, burning hot in the rapidly closing space between them, in a tone she’s never heard before.
Beatrice almost startles, confused. She had nearly forgotten that Ava was here, so consumed in her story. But now she’s noticing her.
Her eyes flash. The tops of her cheeks pinken slightly. She’s angry. Beatrice has seen her on more than one occasion get angry on her behalf. The mere thought of her parents seems to send her into a flurry, but the anger in her eyes now is nearly staggering.
“You’re not,” she says again, insistent to the point of almost desperation. “Beatrice, you are not a problem.”
And Beatrice, blinking, already falling, dives deeper into love with her.
-
Ava feels her cheeks go hot with a liquid anger that roils in her blood. She’s been angry before - angry at Bea’s parents, even. But this feels like pure molten rage. All of the pieces are slotting together: a young girl who just wanted to make her parents proud; who saw someone - touched someone so innocently - and felt the world shift; who didn’t understand why a cliff rose up between her and the people who were supposed to love her more than anything; who trusted so completely and had it thrown back in her face as if she was the one who somehow failed.
Ava’s fingers tighten until her fingernails cut deep half-moon shapes into her palm. She pulls the words out from between her teeth like nails scratching the floor.
“You are not a problem.”
Bea blinks. The broiling heat in her stomach softens its edge, replaced by the confusion in Bea’s eyes as she blinks again.
“You’re not,” Ava insists. She tugs Bea’s hand, pulling her closer until they’re pressed together, an almost-sweaty slide of the skin of their knees bumping together. Bea blinks a second time, mouth parting slightly. “Beatrice, you are not a problem.”
She needs Bea to believe her. She’s never needed anything more in her whole life. She could live without air. She could make it minutes without oxygen. But she can’t live with another second of Beatrice believing her parents’ poison.
She coaxes Bea another inch closer. “Do you hear me?”
Bea’s mouth parts further, something on the tip of her tongue. Ava squeezes Bea’s hand a little tighter. “Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Bea says faintly.
Ava isn’t satisfied. “You need to believe it. You’re not a problem. You’re-” She softens her grip, thumbs Bea’s wild pulse. “You’re-”
“Don’t say perfect,” Bea whispers, eyes slamming closed. “Please don’t say perfect.”
Ava hesitates. She was going to say perfect. She was going to say frustratingly perfect. But she can pivot. There are a million other things she can call Bea - courageous, intelligent, kind, beautiful. All things she’s told Bea before and all things she’d tell her a million times more.
“Human,” she lands on. Bea’s eyes open slowly. “You’re human, just like every single other person on this big rock orbiting in space. You live like everyone else. You laugh, you cry. You love, just like everyone else. And none of that- not who you are or who you love, or even the special little rules you have for tea that took me forever to learn - not a single part of you is a problem.”
The space between Bea’s eyes wrinkles in thought. Ava usually holds herself back, usually just wishes to press it flat gently. But the line between them is so thin now that she doesn’t think twice about it, reaching up and resting her thumb between her brows, pushing gently until the skin relaxes.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks in a whisper. Bea holds so many of her secrets, one more won’t hurt.
Bea nods slowly.
“When I first met you, I was so… intimidated.” Bea’s eyes widen slightly and Ava nods. “I was. You seemed so… cool. Composed. Not at all affected by someone who crashed into your table with the grace of a… what did you call it?”
“A newborn foal,” Bea says lightly.
Ava grins, her smile widening when some of it reflects in Bea’s face. “A newborn foal. That’s a giraffe, right?” She doesn’t wait to be corrected. “I thought, I need to know who this is and I need to know everything about her right now or I’m going to combust.”
Bea rolls her eyes, the motion of her eyes disrupting Ava’s thumb, still on her forehead. She doesn’t drop her hand, being bold and dragging the blunt ends of her fingernails against the smooth skin just above Bea’s eyebrow.
“You’re very dramatic.”
“Did I pretend to be anything else?” Ava shakes her head when Bea opens her mouth. “Don’t answer that. Just know.” She sobers, breathing in and exhaling the most truthful thing she thinks she’s ever said in her life. “The minute I met you, I knew you were something spectacular. I knew you were going to change my life.”
A weight hangs between them now. Bea looks shy under it, her head ducking slightly. Ava’s fingers slip, nearly burying into Bea’s hair. She drops her hand back into her lap but curls it over Bea’s, not quite wanting to let go yet.
“Can I tell you a secret now?” Bea asks, eyes still on the space between them.
Ava nods without being seen. “Anything.”
“I never really felt like that.”
“Like what?” Ava frowns. “Spectacular?”
“Human.” Bea looks up. “I spent so long feeling like… an other. That feeling like a human just didn’t… I couldn’t make sense of that. It took some time.”
Ava smiles gently. “But you got there.”
“After-” Bea stops herself, pulling her lips in as if she’s trying to keep something from erupting out. Ava watches the thin stream of air work its way through her nose, and catches the slight shine of Bea’s eyes, the way they seem to sparkle as unshed tears fill them.
“Hey,” she says softly. “No. No, don’t cry.” She drops Bea’s hands, cupping Bea’s face. Her thumbs brush along the flats of Bea’s cheeks. “I don’t know what to do when pretty girls cry,” she admits.
Bea laughs, choked and watery. “Neither do I. But it never stops me from telling you that Lilith doesn’t actually hate you no matter how much of her fancy vodka you drink.”
“One time,” Ava mutters, lips pulled back in a smile as she pretends to be annoyed.
It works. Bea’s smile seems a little stronger. “Ava,” she says quietly.
Ava strokes down a line of freckles absentmindedly. “Yeah?”
“Can I tell you another secret?”
“You can tell me you’re responsible for bringing down the Vatican, for all I care.”
Bea doesn’t laugh, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth instead. Ava wants to press down against the smooth skin but she stops herself before her thumb drifts that low. That perfect, soft-looking skin, a breath away. She focuses, pulling herself back into the moment.
Bea’s voice is nearly a whisper when she says, “Someone thought I was spectacular once.”
“Just once?”
Another silence. Ava tightens her jaw. Listen, don’t talk. She can do that. She can be still. It’s something Bea has taught her - just be still. Just wait. It will come to you when you stay in one place. So, she’s been waiting, patient against every urge within her to jump up and down and scream.
Sometimes, these feelings for Bea are so big in her chest that she feels like she’s going to explode into a hundred stars. She pictures herself shattering as the unspoken words build in her until they can’t go anywhere but out. But Bea is something to wait for. Bea is someone Ava doesn’t mind standing still for. She knows it’s there. She knows the feelings aren’t just her and that Bea needs to find her way forward. Ava just needs to be the flashlight in the distance, waiting for Bea to find her.
“At least, I thought she thought I was spectacular,” Bea continues, almost as if she didn’t hear Ava. “She said- well, she said something close enough to it.”
Ava can feel another piece of the puzzle slotting into place. Another brick that makes up Bea’s nearly-impenetrable walls. For every one Ava manages to crack and loosen, another suddenly rises in its place. But she feels like this time, it falls and nothing slots into place.
She doesn’t stop herself from touching a freckle this time, tapping out a song she heard years ago before her hands drop again. “Was she pretty?”
She’s clumsy on a good day. Boisterous on others. But Bea is doing that thing again, learning how to run without knowing how to walk. And Ava is practicing. She’s trying so hard. She stays so still that Bea could almost imagine her gone.
“People are pretty in different ways,” Bea finally says. It’s a very diplomatic answer, something so very Bea that Ava breaks her stillness to smile. “All the other girls wanted to be her. I remember someone saying that her hair was so shiny, she must brush it a hundred times on each side before bed.”
Ava can’t help herself. “Is that why your hair is always so perfect? Are you secretly combing it until your wrist hurts?”
“A brush through wouldn’t kill you, Ava.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Bea’s growing smile flickers out. “I suppose it didn’t matter if she was conventionally pretty. I…” Ava watches the way she shores herself up against an invisible storm. “I thought she was beautiful.”
“What was her name?” she asks quietly.
“Penelope Marshall.” Bea says it like a prayer.
“Penelope.” Ava suddenly creates an image in her mind. A girl with wide brown eyes, bronze skin, a perfect smile of perfect teeth, a button nose, long and shiny hair.
Bea swallows and Ava feels the click of her jaw under her palms. “She was in my year, her room just down the hall from me. We were partners in Latin.”
“I bet she copied all her answers off your test.”
“Maybe once or twice,” she admits. “She certainly did not always do her homework on time. But Sister Magdalene liked her and simply turned a blind eye every so often.”
Bea’s cheeks are warming. Ava can see it in the way they pinken.
“It’s silly, but… I remember the first time she smiled at me. I had conjugated the verb, sum, to be, in the pluperfect subjunctive. She had been trying for the better part of an hour, but the switch from esse to fui for the tenses was always confusing to her.” Bea smiles slightly. “When I gave her the answer, she smiled at me and it felt like…”
“Like the world kind of tilted off its axis?”
Bea looks surprised. “Yes. Exactly that.”
“I’m familiar with the feeling.”
Because she is. So, so, deeply familiar with the feeling. The first time she saw Bea, that first smile she got as she bumbled her way through cleaning up the few drops of tea that spilled, the world went sideways and it hasn’t completely righted itself since.
“It’s peculiar, that feeling. It sticks with you, doesn’t it?” Bea looks down. “I used to dream about it,” she admits.
“That’s normal, Bea,” she says gently.
Bea looks up again. “Is it? Because it didn’t feel normal. It felt… other. Strange. Like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Penelope would touch my arm over our Latin text, and I could see my parents poring over my journal, looking for any otherness that might exist between us.”
“She made you happy, though.”
“I thought I made her happy as well.”
Ava doesn’t need Bea to tell her the rest. She can imagine how it went: touches as they broke down a dead language, sitting with their shoulders brushing at meals, giggling as they studied in what Ava assumes must have been a massive and cold library. She can imagine the small strands of Bea’s hair slipping from her bun across her cheeks and Penelope pushing them back behind her ear with quick fingers.
Ava lets herself be selfish and do that same thing now. Bea’s face turns slightly into her hand. Not enough that she probably even notices.
“When did she kiss you?”
Bea looks surprised again and Ava’s hand falls away. “How did you-”
“A good guess,” she lies. Because she knows that having Bea there and not kissing her is God’s strongest battle. She has been a good soldier.
She’s not sure how much longer she can be good.
“A few months into the semester.” Bea’s voice goes taut. “She invited me to study for her biology test. On the recommendation of our teacher, she told me. I imagined it was a lie; she had the same grades as I did.” Her cheeks pinken. “We were reviewing the different biological features of various aquatic animals and she…”
“She kissed you over the cod?” Ava says, voice a little strangled.
Bea meets her eyes. “It was my first kiss. Everyone I knew had theirs already, but I thought that if this is what I was waiting for, it was worth it.”
“The best things are worth waiting for.”
“I’d read about whirlwind romances in novels. Girls in the dormitories talked about it. Boyfriends they had back home that they saw on holiday weekends. But it was nothing like kissing behind locked doors. It couldn’t be. No one else could be experiencing what I did. It was so uniquely ours. Do you know what I mean?”
She does. It means closed doors. It means secrets. Bea reads it on her face because she can see something close to shame bloom across Bea’s cheeks.
“It was just for us,” Bea confirms. “A secret not even my parents, kilometers away, would learn of.”
Ava has never been one for secrets. She doesn’t like the way they taste in her mouth. You’re keeping your own, a voice like Mary’s reminds her. But that secret isn’t really a secret, is it? Because Mary knows. And Shannon knows because Mary knows. And her favorite barista, Lucy, knows it. JC knows it. The belayer at the rock climbing place and the guy at the one party she dragged Bea to and Lilith and Camila - they all know.
Bea knows too. Ava feels the truth of that in every crevice of her heart. Bea knows. Bea isn’t going to do anything about it - she feels that truth too. But the list of people Ava is hiding this from is shorter than the list of people who know it.
“You loved her.”
Bea’s smile is sad, far away. “First kiss, first love. I was convinced we would graduate and run away together. She would lie in my bed propped up on one arm talking about Paris and Rome and the places we could travel as soon as we got away from school. I’d felt so futureless when I arrived, but now I could imagine a million possibilities.”
Ava thinks of making a joke. Something about Bea jet-setting across all of Europe with a pretty girl, exactly the kind of lifestyle she deserved. But she knows this story doesn’t have a happy ending.
“She told me she loved me. More than anyone she loved in her life. She said we were young, but it doesn’t matter. You just feel love louder, she would tell me. I…” Bea takes a deep breath. “Mina may have been the first girl to touch my hand, but Penelope…”
Bea goes quiet long enough that Ava nudges her hand gently. “She…”
Bea’s eyes clear a little. “She touched me in other places. In other ways.”
Ava guesses the next part of this story too. “You wanted to tell someone and she wanted you guys to stay a secret.”
Bea laughs, short and sharp. “I wish it had been that simple. I wish I had been enough to stay a secret. Instead… She must have learned my parents’ trick. When someone becomes unseemly, when it becomes ugly and unwelcome, you simply… strike it from the record. Forget it ever existed. Send it away to boarding school and hope for the best. Or-or pick a new Latin partner and create an ocean that feels uncrossable.”
“Bea,” Ava says quietly.
“I could have accepted it was all done. An ending. I’m sure I could have. But instead I was…” She shakes her head. “Have you ever had someone you thought you were in love with look at you and tell you that none of it mattered? That it was girls being girls and that whispered promises in the corners of classrooms were never more than just a game? A joke?”
“Bea.”
But Bea has a haunted look in her eyes, like she’s somewhere else than Ava’s bedroom with its overflowing laundry and rumpled comforter and the paint swatches on the wall. Ava imagines she’s back in a girls dormitory standing in front of a pretty girl who is cutting her down to bits.
“She told me that none of it was real. It was wrong. It was just something to do. She wasn’t like that,” Bea says, voice just as haunted. “She promised that she wouldn’t tell, because she didn’t want people to think there was anything wrong with her.” An empty laugh, sardonic and hollow in a way that Ava’s never heard, escapes Bea’s lips. “Don’t worry, she said, I wouldn’t want people to think there was something wrong with you, either. I suppose in some twisted way, she still cared.”
The thing about Ava is that she’s always capable of more than she thinks she is. They said she’d never walked; now she runs across campus after Mary. They said she’d never be smart enough to go to university; now she’s in the front row of all her classes, her scholarship enough to make sure she doesn’t need to worry about her degree. They said she’d never make friends; now she has six of them who make every single day something more than she ever hoped.
They said she’d never fall in love; now she has Bea.
And when she doesn’t think she can go a little further, push a little harder, she thinks of Sister Frances and the way she told Ava that she’d never be capable of anything.
But she’s capable of this: setting everyone on fire who ever hurt Bea.
Her anger unleashes like a wildfire, and it swells in her chest so brightly that for a moment she can’t breathe. She can’t see straight. She’s imagining Penelope again but all of the softness is gone and she’s a cutting monster knocking Bea to the ground. She tightens her hand into a fist so tightly that sharp pinpricks echo in her palm from her fingernails.
She doesn’t realize she’s nearly growling until Bea’s fingers are working hers apart, smoothing them flat.
“Ava, it’s alright.”
“It’s not.” Her voice sounds stretched thin. “She’s not.”
“She’s gone.”
“But she’s still here.” Ava shakes her head insistently. “She’s still stuck in here.” She presses a single finger over Bea’s heart. “She still has all this space to be cruel. And when I meet her - not if. I’m going to find her - I’m going to make her suffer. I’m going to-”
“You can’t go on a one-woman crusade because someone hurt my feelings.”
Ava stares. “Hurt your- Bea, she didn’t hurt your feelings. She broke them.”
Bea straightens up slightly. “I’m not broken.”
Ava softens instantly, like someone turning out a light. “No. No, you’re not Bea. Of course you aren’t. There’s nothing wrong with you.” She ducks her head, catches Bea’s eyes, and smiles a little. “You’re incredible. You are spectacular. I promise you that.”
Bea exhales. “I’m embarrassed to say someone had such a hold on me.”
“That’s not embarrassing. That’s human.” Ava raises a cautious hand to Bea’s cheek again. “That’s wonderfully, perfectly human.”
“She just…” Bea takes a deep breath. Ava’s hand slips to her jawline. “My whole world ended in a single minute. Everything I did after that felt… fraught. I couldn’t trust her, couldn’t trust anything anymore. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if she was going to change her mind and tell someone how different, how terrible I was. She made me… nervous.”
She made me… nervous, Ava thinks.
Ava feels the soft skin between her eyes wrinkle as she works the words over in her mind. Of course Penelope made Bea nervous. Of course she made Bea doubt everything - every friendship, every interaction. Of course she held so much power over the way Bea engaged in the world. Of course she-
Oh.
Bea, who doesn’t linger too long when she’s looking at Ava. Bea, whose cheeks go pink when Ava dusts a hand down her bare shoulder. Beatrice, who is always the gentleman, always the one to hold back when they seem to be teetering on this invisible line of why aren’t we.
Of course Bea is going to be scared of what their friendship could become. Because she had this happen. She put her whole heart into something only to be told how wrong it was when it was over, how wrong she was, and that none of it was real.
Ava has been wondering why Bea is so afraid of what they could be. She thought if she proved herself, if she stayed when she could have run, then Bea would understand. She thought Bea would look at her and see someone worthy enough of falling in love with. She thought, some nights when the stars on the ceiling just weren’t enough light, that there was something wrong with her. Something that Bea wasn’t telling her because she was too nice to let Ava down so cruelly.
But it’s not her. It’s not Bea. It’s all the ghosts of Bea’s past stacked up against an ‘Enter’ door that are stopping Bea from pulling it open. It’s all these things outside of Ava’s control that’s holding them back.
It all comes together so neatly in her mind. Bea is not going to make the first move. She never was. She’s been leading Ava to this place, but she can’t make the final step. She’s loading the gun but she can’t pull the trigger. She’s putting this in Ava’s hands and hoping that Ava doesn’t break it in two.
Ava’s clumsy on a good day. Boisterous on others. But she’s also been practicing so hard at being still and maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Maybe Bea needs her to move, to run ahead and give in first.
Ava takes a deep breath, feeling it expand in her chest. It’s loud, roaring in her ears. Bea looks at her curiously. Maybe she doesn’t know that Ava has put it all together. Maybe she’s just as confused as Ava was a second ago. But Bea is smart. No, she’s not just smart, she’s Ava-smart. And she can read Ava like one of the dog-eared books littering their breakfast bar.
“Bea.” Her voice is remarkably steady.
Remarkable, because her whole body feels like it’s moving, vibrating at a frequency unable to be heard by the human ear. She catches Bea’s wrist in her fingers, locking them tightly around the delicate bone.
Bea is still, eyes dropping down to where their skin meets. “Yes?”
“Beatrice.”
Her hand is the thing shaking now as it rises up between them and slowly presses to Bea’s cheek, fingernails curling around her jaw. She feels it move as Bea swallows, hears the slight click of it as the silence magnifies. Bea’s eyes widen and she nearly pulls away, Ava’s hand on her face the only thing stopping her.
“Ava, I…”
Ava imagined their first kiss. She’s dreamed of it almost from the moment she met Bea, already wondering what it would be like before she knew who Bea really was - before she knew how good it was going to be. But she read something somewhere about how knowing someone enhanced the experience of loving them. How something steeped in history made the love richer. And the history she has with Bea may be short, but it is rich. Bea knows all her secrets and now she knows all of Bea’s.
So, fucking kiss her, a voice like Mary’s demands.
And isn’t Mary always telling her she has to listen better?
She only closes her eyes just before their lips touch. She wants to see Bea’s face and is rewarded with the fluttering of delicate eyelashes, the slight parting of Bea’s lips, the quiet hitch of her breath and the way her throat bobs as she tries to hold it back. Her hand slips to the back of Bea’s neck, pulling just until her top lip brushes Bea’s bottom one.
Her eyes slip closed as Bea’s bottom lip slips between hers and they’re kissing. They’re kissing. Bea is warm and soft and still. She stays there, intent in the way her mouth clings to Bea’s. I’m here. I’m kissing you. I’m choosing you. And you’re spectacular.
Bea shudders, her whole body coming alive, and she surges forward as Ava starts to pull away. The air goes out of her lungs and she tips backwards a little and she panics, unwilling to break apart now that Bea is kissing her back. But Bea’s hand goes past her, holding her up as she exhales against Ava’s mouth.
They’re so close together, their knees knocking. Bea’s mouth presses hot against hers, closed mouths clinging to each other. She can’t believe it, can’t believe they’re finally kissing and Bea isn’t running - she’s closer as Ava’s shoulders fall back against the bed, Bea’s hand curled around her shoulder as she settles against Ava’s side. Her free hand has found the hem of Ava’s shirt and her knuckles are brushing against the sensitive skin above Ava’s navel, steady and warm.
It’s Bea who takes the hesitant step forward, her lips parting just enough that Ava’s slide, and then Ava can feel Bea breathing as she kisses a little harder, mouths open against each other. It’s Bea who takes a less hesitant step again, the tip of her tongue ghosting along Ava’s bottom lip.
Ava pulled down the last brick, but Bea was a roaring river behind the dam and she kisses like she’s been uncorked. Her fingernails dig into the soft flesh beneath Ava’s shoulder, her knuckles press into Ava’s stomach, and she kisses with reckless abandon.
“Bea,” Ava whispers between kisses. She’s never been one for religion but maybe she’s been worshipping the wrong gods. Maybe this is who she should have been praying to all along.
Bea hums pleasantly against her mouth. She’s bolder now, kisses a little more frenzied. Ava understands. She tightens her hand at the base of Bea’s neck, pulls her closer. Her other hand slides down the flat of Bea’s stomach and curls around her hip bone, thumb stroking over the soft fabric of her sweatpants.
She thought kissing Bea would be amazing but she was wrong. It’s life-altering. She can see everything shifting to accommodate the way Bea’s lips press, hot and open-mouthed, against her own. She’s going to be completely altered after this, her life now in two separate parts: Before Kissing Bea and After Kissing Bea.
Bea’s hum burns into a low moan as Ava’s fingers dig more insistently into the dip of her hip. Ava is addicted now. She kisses harder, body starting to move as she rolls, a leg going over Bea’s until she’s bracketing Bea’s hips. She slides her mouth along Bea’s jaw to just below her ear, following the way Bea pants at the sensation of her teeth against smooth skin.
She needs to be closer. She needs nothing between them. She sits up, holding her weight as she works her fingers in her shirt and lifts it high and off her shoulders. She tosses it onto the corner, adding to the laundry pile, and sits above Bea in her bra with the flamingos on it, her chest heaving in anticipation.
Bea stares up at her, her face flushed and her lips bruised. Hesitant hands go to Ava’s waist, fingers flexing experimentally as they settle just above the hem of her shorts.
“Hi,” Ava whispers.
Bea nods, the line of her throat bobbing. Ava watches as her eyes track down her body, shoulders down to the sliver of skin just above her shorts. It takes her a minute to look back up and meet Ava’s eyes.
“Is this-?”
“Yes,” Bea interrupts. Her fingers feel purposeful now, like she’s burning her fingerprints into Ava’s skin. “I… I want this.”
A niggling thought works its way into Ava’s mind. Just a breath of hesitation. “You’re sure?”
Bea sits up, hands sliding to the small of her back. She blinks, eyes wide but focused. “Ava, I’ve wanted this for…”
“So long,” Ava finishes.
“So long.” Bea’s eyes flutter and she leans forward, mouth brushing over Ava’s collarbone. She feels her eyelashes against her throat. “Are you sure you want me?”
Me, she says unspoken. Me out of everyone else you could have.
Ava puts two strong fingers under Bea’s chin, lifts her face up until their eyes meet. I’ve never wanted anything more sounds too small. But it’s the only way she can think to say it. And when she does, Bea’s smile brightens the room.
Bea presses her lips to the pulse thudding in Ava’s neck, gentle teeth scraping against the skin. Ava breathes in sharply at the feeling of it, of Bea’s fingers working steadily up her back until they’re hesitantly touching the clasp of Ava’s bra. Ava is brave enough for both of them. She reaches back and loosens it, the fabric falling away from her chest. She tosses that away too.
Ava hisses softly when Bea’s fingers skate up her stomach to cup her breast. Her hand is burning, and Ava pushes into it so she can feel herself on fire. It only grows hotter when Bea kisses her collarbone again, teeth a little more insistent as she makes her way down to her own hand.
Ava pulls at the bottom of Bea’s shirt, freeing it from where she’s sitting on it, and pulls gracelessly until it’s over her head and somewhere by the door. She traces the lines of Bea’s navy bra until she finds the clasp and undoes it, flinging it away.
“I’m not going to make a joke about your boobs,” she whispers into Bea’s temple. Her tongue swirls over sensitive skin at Ava’s chest. “But just know that I really want to.”
Bea lifts her head. “I appreciate your restraint.”
“Saint Ava, they call me,” she babbles. “Patron Saint of-”
Her words are swallowed up in a gasp as Bea presses a hand down purposefully down on her waist. It sends a shiver through her and pulls a little bit of a moan from the hollow of her throat, Bea’s eyes widening slightly in surprise.
Ava tucks some of the loose strands framing Bea’s face back behind her ear, cheeks just a little red. “Before we… Before we do anything else, you need to know that I’m not going to be normal about this. Like, at all.”
Bea walks two fingers up her side, using ribs like steps. She moves them across her chest, brushing against her nipple. Ava shivers again. “I don’t know that I’m much interested in normal,” she admits.
Ava arches into her touch. “I’d hope not, considering how much you’re into me.”
She pauses, breath caught in her lungs as she waits for Bea’s reaction. Bea looks up with wide, imploring eyes. She searches for something on Ava’s face, and Ava hopes beyond hope that she finds it.
Not because she needs Bea’s hand to keep doing what it’s doing. Not because she wants to slip her fingers beneath Bea’s waistband. Not because she wants to hover over Bea and nose down the long stretch of what she’s sure is perfect skin from her chest to her belly button.
Because she wants all those things. But she also wants Bea to know she’s safe. That it’s okay to want her. That Ava is going to be someone she can trust, that Ava won’t treat her like something that’s going to break but will hold her gently regardless.
It feels big, to say that. But Bea is right there, a fingertip away, with her lips bruised and her hair starting to tangle around Ava’s fingers, and she thinks: I’m never going to come back from this. I’ll never be the same. What she feels is undeniable and real, the most real thing she has ever known and she would never, ever want to go back, even if she could.
“I am,” Bea finally says, voice a breathless whisper.
“A lot?” Ava asks, a sliver of neediness in her words.
Bea nods, unblinking. “A lot, yes.”
Ava makes a show of breathing a sigh of relief, a relieved smile on her face. “Well, that’s embarrassing for you.”
“Ava.”
Ava buries her reply in a kiss, fingers curling around Bea’s shoulders as she slowly inches her backward onto the bed until Ava is a shadow hovering above her. She wonders what the hollow of Bea’s throat tastes like, and she smiles into the kiss as she realizes she doesn’t need to ask. She breaks away from Bea’s mouth, kissing over the point of her chin and the underside of her jaw and down to the dip of her throat, teeth nipping at sensitive skin as Bea’s breath hitches. She can feel fingers flex at her waist and then tighten more purposefully.
Sensitive neck, she catalogs. She wants to make a list, grow it until she knows all of the places that cause Bea to make that breathless noise.
Bea’s fingers are insistent at her neck, drawing her back up until they’re kissing, harder than they have before. Bea kisses with lips and teeth, her tongue soothing away the nips, while one hand works its way to Ava’s waistband, curling into the thick denim fabric of her jeans.
She would have been satisfied with some heavy making out. Her skin is already burning where Bea’s bare chest is pressed against hers. She can live with this. But Bea doesn’t seem to be able to live with just this. Ava feels the back of her knuckles against her stomach as Bea pops the button of her jeans and works down the zipper. It’s so loud in the silence.
Ava kisses her way down Bea’s throat again then goes lower, tongue leading the way as she flicks the tip of it over a pebbled nipple. There it is again, that breathless noise. The fingers at her waistband freeze, tighten around the denim, and then release. Ava’s hand goes to Bea’s other breast, and she feels it press into her palm as Bea arches her back slightly.
Ava dares to go lower, kissing over the swell of Bea’s breast and down to her navel. She slides back on Bea’s legs, her fingertips light against Bea’s skin above her hip bones.
“Ava,” Bea breathes. She reaches down, hands reaching for Ava’s chin. Ava kisses the center of Bea’s palm as strong fingers curl around her jaw. “Ava.”
She doesn’t know what Bea’s trying to say, but she doesn’t need to. She can feel the heat radiating off Bea, the anticipation. She hooks two fingers in the waistband of Bea’s study-sweatpants, the ones she wears on all-nighters where she’s going to fall asleep sitting up, and starts to work them down a little as Bea’s hips lift off the bed.
She rests her forehead in the dip of Bea’s hip. She’s never believed in a God, but she does believe there’s a higher power out in the cosmos, and they’ve suddenly found her worthy of this gift: Bea stretched out across the sea of her comforter with her eyes closed and her chin tipped into the air as her chest rises and falls with increasingly harder breathes and her hips arching just slightly until Ava feels her against her forehead.
Because shit, this is holy.
A hand snakes its way into her hair, blunt fingernails scratching against her scalp. She can feel them trembling slightly. Ava wants to feel the whole of Bea tremble. She kisses down as she pulls Bea’s sweats down until they’re past the top of her thighs to her knees.
This feels like a moment they can’t come back from. And looking up at Bea, at the way those dark eyes stare into hers and the hand in her hair tightens slightly, she doesn’t want to come back from it. She wants to never, ever come back from this. She only wants what happens on past this moment.
She works Bea’s underwear down until they’re on the floor with her sweatpants in a tangled heap, and she noses her way lower until it’s nothing but heat and something slick against her tongue. Bea keens, hips lifting high off the bed, and Ava presses down hard against them with flat palms, keeping Bea down in one place.
The hand tightens in her hair, Bea’s knees tighten around her shoulders, trapping her in this crystalline moment. She rolls into it, tongue working more steadily as she feels Bea’s hips start to roll in response. She dips lower and soars higher, an unknown melody working into her mind and guiding her as Bea lets a sigh loosen from her throat.
Her hand climbs until she feels Bea’s breast against her palm, and she works her fingers over sensitive skin. Bea’s hand traps hers in place, palm burning. She can feel Bea’s legs start to tremble, and she licks a little more precisely, a little more purposefully.
She swirls, she drives forward and pulls away. She finds a rhythm until Bea’s whole body starts to tighten into an invisible line, pulled taut by an some unseen string. Ava doesn’t stop, even as Bea’s legs tighten around her. Even as that hand in her hair pulls a little harder. Even as Bea’s breathing swells into a hard pant and she lets out a strangled cry of Ava’s name.
She doesn’t stop until Bea’s body melts into loose muscles, until Bea’s hand goes slack in her hair. Everything is hot against her skin. Her tongue eases away, laving up and over Bea’s hip to her navel and charting a slow course to the center of her chest until she’s back at the hollow of Bea’s throat, teeth nipping as she feels Bea’s chest rise and fall rapidly against her own.
Bea draws another ragged breath, a hand up over her red face.
Ava pulls it away and kisses Bea hard, their mouths sliding together. Bea’s fingers curl around her throat, holding her in place when Ava tries to pull away. A tongue dips behind her teeth. Bea inhales sharply, stealing the air from Ava’s lungs.
Bea, still panting softly, hooks a leg under her and twists, rolling until Ava is on her back, and Bea is hovering over her, eyes dark and flashing.
The air punches its way out of Ava’s throat. If she’s cataloging the things that turn her on, this has just gone to the top of the list, right after the way Bea tastes and the feeling of her mouth sliding against hers.
“Bea.” Her voice is strangled and warped between them.
But Bea doesn’t answer her. She works her fingers purposefully down Ava’s front, sliding beneath her waistband without fanfare, without hesitation. Ava’s legs part with a half-breath, the other part of it stuck in her throat.
Then it’s nothing but an overwhelming sensation and the soft sound of Bea panting in her ear as Ava feels the world start to tighten around her. Bea’s breath is replaced by a white static, and there’s a fullness in her that she knows she’s going to be chasing for a while. Her hips lift and fall, a rhythm she knows without having to think about it. She rides it out, settles into it like she’s known it all her life and then-
And then-
Then she’s soaring, hips off the bed and her whole body shaking as she tries to focus on the rhythm again, the whole dance gone from her mind as it’s replaced by fireworks exploding, one after another. She can feel Bea’s hand on her, in her, and nothing else. She’s disconnected from reality except for where Bea is touching her. Floating weightlessly in an in-between where nothing but this feeling and Bea, hot against her side, exist.
She crashes back down, the world slamming back into her head as her legs clench, Bea’s hand between them. Strong fingers slide away and stroke across her thighs before they go up and curl around her side. Her breath comes hard, her pulse pounding in her head. She squeezes her eyes tightly, afraid to open them and see that the whole world has been turned upside down.
She wouldn’t care if it was, is the problem. She wouldn’t care if she suddenly found herself light years away where there was no oxygen in the solar system. As long as Bea is next to her, she doesn’t care.
She opens her eyes slowly and turns her head, finding Bea looking back at her with liquid pools for eyes.
“Hi,” she breathes, the word sticking in her throat.
Bea smiles softly. “Hi.”
“That was…” She inhales raggedly. “It’s never been like that.”
Because I’ve never been in love, she doesn’t say out loud.
Bea is biting on her bottom lip, eyes searching Ava’s face. “Me either,” she finally says.
Ava hums, content and boneless. “We are so doing that again. Soon,” she promises. “When I can feel my legs, it’s over for you.”
Bea laughs a little. “Okay, Ava.”
Ava lets her eyes close again and when she opens them, Bea is still looking at her. It doesn’t unsettle her. She lets Bea drink her in, and she lets her own eyes follow the lithe line of Bea’s body.
“Boobs,” Ava sighs. She curls one hand around Bea’s breast, no intention in the movement.
Bea wiggles around as if it tickles slightly, but she just settles more tightly against Ava’s side.
“I’m going to be insufferable,” she warns.
“So I can expect more jokes about my boobs.” Bea walks two fingers up her side and across her chest, pressing over where her heart is. “What else?”
Ava inhales shakily. “Anything else you want.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” she promises. “Whenever you want. I’ll be a court jester for you, babe.”
Bea’s face pinkens at the name, but she holds Ava’s gaze for another moment before she rests her head between Ava’s shoulder and neck. “I do find you marginally funny,” she admits lightly.
Ava grins, the smile lazy. “See? You need to tell more people how funny I am. Mary doesn’t believe it.”
The blush doesn’t fall from Bea’s face. “Please don’t talk about Mary while we’re naked.”
“Why not? She’ll think it’s hilarious.” But Ava stretches her neck and kisses Bea’s temple. “But okay. Just this time.”
“I appreciate it,” Bea murmurs. It’s familiar, the exasperation, but it’s tinted with this whole new feeling. A new depth. “Ava?”
“Hmmm,” Ava hums, sleep pressing against her body.
“I can tell you later.” Fingers brush hair off her damp forehead. “Close your eyes for a little bit.”
“Just a little,” she agrees. “And then I’m making you stir fry.”
Warm lips press against the hollow of her throat, humming an okay against her skin. Bea settles against her side as a warm and welcome weight.
She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she knows she goes quietly and calmly, and that Bea is still there, still pressed against her side, molded to her like she was never meant to be anywhere else.
-
She wakes up to the smell of paint. Her eyes take a minute to adjust to the light in the corner but she pushes up on her elbow, the comforter over her sliding down to her waist. She blinks as Bea comes into focus.
“You’re painting?”
Bea turns. She’s barefoot, in her underwear again, and one of Ava’s cropped t-shirts that has a white cat in red shadows and I’m not cute I’m purr evil written on it. It hangs a little higher on her and Ava can see the swell of her breasts through it.
She’s the most beautiful woman Ava has ever seen.
And she’s blushing. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
Ava sits up more fully, stretching her arms above her head. She watches, a slightly smirk on her face, as Bea’s eyes drop to her chest. But she doesn’t push. There’s time to tease Bea about staring at her boobs. All the time in the world, really.
“How long was I asleep?” She looks at the wall. Bea has nearly finished the whole thing.
“Not long.” Bea puts the paint can down on the stool, balancing the paintbrush on the edge of it. “But you looked…”
“Like a dead fish?” She’s aware of the way she sleeps, limbs thrown about and head rolling back. Years of being unable to move makes it so she never stops now, even sleeping.
“Peaceful,” Bea finishes. She’s hesitating, torn between wanting to do something and worrying about doing it.
So, Ava takes the lead, leaning in until she’s kissing Bea. She feels Bea sigh into it and knows it was the right move, that it’s what Bea wanted to do. She wants Bea to know she can do this whenever she wants. Bea kisses back almost instantly, sliding into an already-familiar rhythm.
She pulls away, a smile on her face. “Hi.”
Bea is a little breathless when she says hi back.
“I thought we weren’t painting.”
Bea looks back at the wall, most of it covered already. “You were right. About leaving our mark on this place. Someone needs to know we were here.”
“If we ever move out.”
Bea smiles. “If we ever move out.”
Ava pulls her legs up under her and Bea’s hand into her lap. “The only place I plan on moving is into your room. Or you can move in here, since we’re already decorating.”
“Oh?” Bea says. Her voice seems tight, like she’s holding something back.
A wiggle of doubt worms its way into her mind. “I mean, if you want to. No pressure. I’m more than happy to stay here and we can pretend like-”
“I don’t want to pretend,” Bea interrupts. She seems surprised by the firmness in her words and she sucks in her lips for a second before she shakes her head. “I wasn’t sure if you- I know you just kissed me but maybe that was you letting me down and-”
“Bea.” Ava waits until Bea’s mouth snaps closed. “I don’t want to pretend. I’ve been waiting months to kiss you, and unless you tell me otherwise, I plan on kissing you at least a hundred times a day.”
Some of the tension drains from Bea’s shoulders. “A hundred.”
“Give or take another hundred.” Ava grins. “One kiss for every time I’ve thought about kissing you the last seven months. Spread out, of course. Otherwise we’d probably be stuck in this apartment for days, just kissing.” She narrows her eyes playfully. “That might not be the worst thing to happen, though.”
“I’d miss finals,” Bea points out.
“Do you really need to pass them? Aren’t you teaching the classes at this point?”
Bea rolls her eyes, fond and exasperated. “Ava.”
“Bea.” She rolls her eyes back. “Fine. If you won’t lock yourself away to make out with me for days on end, what else are you willing to offer me?”
Bea is quiet for a long moment, her hand twisting in Ava’s as she thinks of something. Ava can see it pressing against her teeth, can practically feel the tension of whatever Bea wants to say radiating off her and lighting up the whole room. Ava waits it out patiently, knowing that whatever Bea has to say will be worth it.
She stays still. She waits. Bea has a way of bringing out all of the things in her that no one else has bothered to look for before. And after another minute, Bea looks up.
“Me.”
Ava’s heart clenches in her chest. “You.”
“I’m willing to offer me. Just… me. If you’re willing to accept.”
Ava turns Bea’s hand over in hers and presses two fingers to the thudding bundle of nerves at the base of her wrist. Bea looks down at where they meet and her eyes stay locked there for a moment while Ava watches her.
“If you think there’s anything just about you, then you don’t know the Beatrice I know,” Ava finally says. “Because I’ve never thought there was anything just about you. You always leave the light on for me. And you never make me do the dishes alone. And you don’t mind mushrooms on your pizza. You keep soda in the apartment and you always vacuum when I’m not home.”
A funny smile graces Bea’s face. “I think that makes me good for you.”
“The best,” she agrees. Her smile softens. “I’ve never thought there’s anything just about you. You’re incredibly kind, trustworthy. You’re humble - maybe too humble,” she jokes. “And considerate. And insanely intelligent. Hilarious. My best friend.” She pauses. “And I’m pretty sure you’re the love of my life.”
Bea inhales sharply.
“I know that’s, like, a lot. And I don’t need you to say it back, because I’m not trying to pressure you. But saying it all has lifted some kind of weight off my chest. Like, I didn’t know I was suffocating under not saying anything but I guess that I was,” she babbles. “But honestly, you don’t need to-”
“Ava,” Bea says patiently. She waits until Ava snaps her mouth shut and mimes zipping it closed. “My parents…”
“I’ll kill them,” Ava says cheerfully, looking guilty when Bea’s eyes cut to her. She closes her mouth again.
“My parents made me believe that love had to be earned. That if I wanted it, I had to work for it.” She takes a breath, astonishingly steady. “But you’ve never done that. You’ve never made me work for it. You’ve just… given it. It’s who you are.”
Ava’s smile wavers a little. “Because you don’t need to deserve love.”
“I didn’t know that before you.” Bea shakes her head. “I’ve had to unlearn a lot of things since meeting you. Like that. Like how to not be afraid. Like how to eat pizza. All these things that were so ingrained in who I was that I didn’t think I’d ever know anything different.” She reaches up and cups Ava’s cheek. “You changed all of that for me.”
She thinks Bea is saying I love you. She thinks Bea is saying You’re the love of my life, too.
And then Bea, spectacular Bea, looks into her eyes and says exactly that. “I love you. I’ve loved you since you spilled tea on my very important notes, and I’ve fallen in love with you every day since.”
Ava feels relief flood through her like a dam breaking. “That’s good. That’s really, really good. Because it would be embarrassing to be sitting here naked telling you how much I love you if you’re not going to say it back.”
Bea shakes her head but she’s smiling. “Ava.”
“Beatrice.” Ava curls a finger under Bea’s chin and beckons her forehead. She kisses her slowly and sweetly before she pulls back. “Kiss one of a hundred today.”
A blush spreads across Bea’s face. “You’re not really going to count, are you?”
“I’m going to keep a tally, that’s how serious I am.” She kisses Bea again. “Number two.”
Bae rolls her eyes and when Ava kisses her a third time, she opens her mouth, tongue brushing Ava’s bottom lip. It leaves her breathless when Bea pulls back.
“If I knew getting you in my room would have ended up like this, I would have tried a lot harder,” she says, eyes still closed.
Bea’s lips press against her cheek, then under her eye. “I wasn’t ready for that,” Bea whispers against her skin.
Ava doesn’t open her eyes. “I know you weren’t.”
Bea’s forehead rests against hers. “I am now.”
“It’s okay if you’re not. I won’t stop loving you.”
Bea’s breath ghosts across her mouth. “I am. I’ve never been ready for anything more in my life.”
“Not even your finals? Because you’re really ready for those, even if you think you aren’t.” She feels Bea start to argue more than she sees it, eyes still closed. “I’ve never met anyone who studies as much as you study. Seriously, you’re a beast when it comes to notecards and colored highlighters and-”
She does stop this time as Bea’s lips press against her. She hums, sinking into it. “Oh,” she says when Bea ebbs away. She finally opens her eyes.
Bea is smiling, beautiful and wide. “More than my finals. If only because I’m still not convinced of Thecla’s real contribution to modern religions.”
“I don’t know who Thecla is, but she’s never been less relevant to my interests right now.” Ava twists a strand of Bea’s hair, resting on her cheek, around her finger. “She could be Jesus’ mother for all I care.”
“She’s not-”
“I know she’s not.” Ava grins. “But I like the way you look when I say something wrong.” She presses her finger to the space between Bea’s eyes. “Like you’re not sure if you want to lecture me or kiss me. For the record, I’m very much in favor of the second option.”
Bea’s lips pull up in a slight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ava breathes in deeply, letting the air fill her lungs as she stretches her arms over her head, noting the way Bea’s eyes follow the lift of her chest. She smiles to herself. Maybe Bea is a boob-girl. She’ll have to weaponize that knowledge for later.
“I think I promised you stir fry.”
Bea opens her mouth to argue.
“And I’m hungry,” Ava says over her. “And can be trusted with a knife. So, I will be making you stir fry, because it’s the one thing I’m good at. And I want to impress you.”
Bea’s smile is fond, and Ava thinks back to the first time she saw it, how it was aimed at Camila and how she wished one day it would be a smile for her. And now here she is, Bea in her shirt and an I love you between them and a smile that is reserved just for her.
“So let me make you stir fry and you can come sit and study some more. In my shirt. Which, by the way, is very sexy.” She winks.
Bea rolls her eyes. “Mine was quite tangled up in the comforter, and this was just the most easily accessible.”
“You have a bedroom about a hundred feet away,” Ava feels the need to point out. Bea’s eyes narrow and Ava grins. “But for the record, I really like seeing you in it.”
Bea blushes a little but stands and opens Ava’s drawer, pulling out a pair of underwear - Ava’s favorite, yellow with pineapples on them - and then a big t-shirt she stole from Mary that has a pug with a pair of aviators on printed across the front. She hands them to Ava.
“No pants?” she asks as she pushes the comforter down and wriggles into her underwear. She pulls the t-shirt on, huffing her hair out of her face.
“No pants,” Bea says simply.
Oh. Okay. She grins and stands up, curling her hands around Bea’s waist and pulling her in. “This is going to be so good. I know it.”
Bea smiles, swaying slightly with her when Ava starts to go back and forth on her feet. “I know it too.” She presses her lips to Ava’s forehead and speaks against it. “Thank you, Ava,” she breathes.
Ava frowns. “For what?”
Bea pulls back and tucks a strand of Ava’s hair back behind her ear. “For waiting for me to be ready.”
“Of course I waited. I love you,” she says easily.
Bea’s smile widens. “I know.”
Ava beams back at her, feeling like everything has slotted into place so neatly. She never wants this moment to break, never wants it to go away. She wants to remain forever in this room with Bea in her arms and the rest of the world somewhere else doing whatever it is they’re doing. All that matters is this moment, these kisses between them, the possibility of what the next moment brings.
She can’t wait.
#THE WAIT IS OVERRRRRRR!!!!!!#sirens going off#warrior nun#forever roommates#guys this took so long i am so sorry but i hope it's worth it#rated m for mature audiences kids#there was so much to this that i didn't even know where to start but eventually we got there#everyone say thank you kay thank you kay#GUYS GUYS there is one more piece to this and it will be compleeeete#elmofire.gif#okay please like this i'm needy and hungover#i got tickets to noah kahan and i feel INVINCIBLE!
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Hey! Are you still taking prompts? If yes, can you write about r, a librarian that's like a ray of sunshine to everyone at Abbott. But not too much ray of sunshine like Janine and Jacob (more like UV light jk). Then one day, r arrived at Abbott so quiet, not in her usual self,like her sun is heavily clouded. In the break room she's like spacing out, they noticed it and when they asks her if she's alright she would just look at them with a neutral reaction and not talk to anyone,as in anyone much to Melissa's dismay as she tries to make you talk. She misses you talk about your day when she visits you at the library before leaving. Mr. J notices, since r usually gives him a high five when she sees him in the hall way. Even Ava, as she made a joke and everyone laughed but you just gave her a blank stare and leave the break room. They thought r just needs space so they let her be. Then a day of being like that became a week, shutting people down and now the staff are worried, so Melissa decided to finally take the matter in her hands and helps R to finally snap out of the state she's in.
Thank you so much for this prompt! And yes my inbox is open for prompts. I thought this idea was cute and I hope you like it. Not edited in the slightest. I wrote this in more of Melissa’s POV but I don’t think any of you will mind.
Her Poco Sole (little sunshine)
Warnings: reader trapped in their head but that’s pretty much it.
Words: 2.6k
It’s Friday morning and you walk into Abbott with a smile on your face as always. You’re the librarian at Abbott Elementary and you love it. The kids are great, the staff is amazing, and you’ve never been happier. You see Mr Johnson and as always you raise your hand up for a high five and he happily gives you one.
You arrive in the break room and everyone is already there. You cross the break room to the fridge to put your lunch in there. “Good Morning everyone. Any weekend plans?” You ask everyone as you go to make a coffee.
At that, everyone shares any interesting plans that they have for the weekend. As you finish making your coffee you go to sit at Barb and Melissa’s table like always as Jacob finishes telling his plans and you smile at him as you listened.
“What about you Melissa? Got a hot date? Tv marathon? Seeing family and friends?” You ask her and she looks at you with a smile.
“What makes you think I have a hot date?” She asks.
“A little presumptuous of me then, alright got a normal date then?” You ask her and she snorts.
“You’re such a goof. No date this weekend. Unless you count my couch.” She jokes and you laugh.
“I would think that counts as a date.” You tell her. Then you engage in conversation with Melissa and Barb until the bell rings, and you all get up to start the day.
The day goes by and it’s spent organising and checking out books for kids. At lunch, you head to the breakroom and get your lunch and sit at your regular seat, beside Melissa, and start eating. The rest of the crew comes in a couple minutes later, as well as Ava.
“Hey y/n, I’m going to the club tomorrow tonight, wanna come?” Ava asks.
“Ava, the last time I went with you, you forced me to talk to a girl there and she was straight. So I think I’ll say no.” You tell her with a shake of your head. Ava looks at you and laughs.
“What if I promise that I won’t force you to talk to any girls?” She asks.
“I think I’ll sit this one out Ava, I got big plans to laze around and do nothing.” You tell her.
“You and I got similar plans, we should do it together.” Melissa says and you look at her with a smile.
“You got a date though.” You joke with her and she laughs.
“Hun, I can drop the date with my couch if I wanted, I’m sure it won’t be disappointed.” She says and you roll your eyes.
Lunch ends and you all get up to finish the second part of the day.
At the end of the day, you’re putting a book back in its rightful place when Melissa walks in.
“Hey you.” She says as she walks in.
“Hey yourself.” You reply back to her with a smile.
“How was your day?” She asks.
“It was good.” You then proceed to tell her all about your day. You tell her interesting things that the kids said or did, interesting gossip from teachers and everything else in between. Melissa looks at you the entire time with a smile as she listens. She always loves it when you tell her about your day, you always talk so passionately. “Anyway I’m rambling, how was your day?” You ask her.
Melissa proceeds to tell you all about her day as you both exit the library and you lock up. This is a little routine you both have at the end of the day. You both look forward to it, you tell each other every little thing about your day as you walk to you cars.
Melissa didn’t like you at first, she thought you were too cheerful and happy like Janine is. But she learned that while you are cheerful, it's not annoying like it is with Janine or even Jacob. She learned to love how happy and nice you are with her and everyone else, poco sole she likes to call you, which is little sunshine.
You end up just staying at your place that weekend instead of taking Melissa up on her offer, you sometimes do and you both always enjoy it.
Then Monday morning comes, and you drag your feet in through the doors of Abbott, the usual smile on your face is replaced with a frown. You pass right by Mr Johnson and you don’t offer a high five and he looks at you weirdly.
You enter the break room and you cross over to the fridge to put your lunch and get a coffee. Everyone sees that you don’t have a pep to your step and your usual smile. As you get your coffee ready, you're looking at your phone as Melissa speaks up.
“Hey poco sole, you alright there?” She asks and you look up at her then go back to your phone without answering her. She looks at you confused, as well as everyone else. Once your coffee is done, you pour it in your mug then you sit down at your usual spot. Melissa looks at you as she tried again.
“How was your weekend?” She asks you. You just look at her and shrug. Melissa looks at Barb worriedly. You’re never like this, this isn’t you. Before anyone could say anything else, Ava walks in and she pours some of the coffee in her mug.
“Y/n, there were a lot of cute girls at the club, you missed out, although I would have had you do karaoke.” She says and everyone laughs, they know you’re a bit shy singing in front of a crowd. Everyone laughs except you, you just look at Ava with a blank stare and then get up and leave. You pass by Mr Johnson on your way out and once again, you don’t offer a high five.
“What’s going on with y/n? She doesn’t seem like herself.” Mr Johnson says and everyone looks at Melissa who’s the closest to you.
Melissa doesn’t know, you were fine on Friday, and you two texted on Saturday and Sunday like always and everything seemed fine. “I- I don’t know.” Melissa says and she’s worried about you. She’ll try again at lunch, maybe you’re just not having the best morning, it happens to everyone she thinks.
At lunch your mood didn’t change, in fact it seemed it got worse. You seemed like you were in your own head the entire time, and if anyone talked to you or asked a question, you would just stare at them for a few seconds and go back to what you were doing or just ignore them. Everyone decided that maybe you just need some space as maybe you’re having a rough day but then you’ll be back to your usual smiling self tomorrow.
You were not back to your smiling self tomorrow. You came in again the same way, Mr Johnson sees you and you’re still not smiling and he sighs. Everyone else in the break room stopped what they were doing when you walked in. They all hoped you would be back to yourself again but no. Melissa was getting worried, she went to the library after school yesterday like always and you had already left. She didn’t like seeing you like this, the worst part is you didn’t seem sad, you seemed disconnected, like you aren’t even here. You were supposed to be her poca sole and right now you aren’t, and it broke her heart a little.
Melissa knew she had gotten feelings for you, I mean how can she not when you are how you are. Always smiling when you talk to someone, always listening to people talk with 100% of your attention, and she loves how passionate you are about even the smallest things. You always brought a smile to her face, no matter the mood she was in, and she wanted to do that for you.
At lunch she went to the library when you didn’t show up and when she tried talking to you, you just looked at her with a blank stare and went back to what you were doing. She gave up after several attempts and went to talk to Barb, “maybe she just needs some time Melissa. I’m sure she’ll be back to herself when whatever it is passes” Barb told her. So Melissa did just that. She didn’t talk to you when you sat down, she didn’t go to the library after school, she didn’t text you that she got home safely like always, that usually sparks an hour conversation over text.
And soon, the week goes by and it’s Friday and you’re still not back to yourself. Melissa misses you, she knows that you’re going through something and you’re not telling her, you and her tell each other everything. So she takes matters into her own hands. Friday after school, she goes home and grab’s leftovers from yesterday and then heads to your place.
She knocks on your door and you answer about 30 seconds later. And you have the same look on your face as you have had at school all week. Still she gives you a smile and offers food. And you just stare at her, not talking.
“Can I come in? I can heat this up and we can eat and watch tv.” You just step aside to let her in, Melissa thinks it’s a start, she will literally take anything.
Melissa heats up the leftovers and puts half on a plate for you and half on another plate for herself. She comes to the couch where you already are and she hands it to you with a smile. You take it from here with just a simple “thank you.” Even when you seem disconnected, you will always say thank you, it’s automatic. And again, Melissa will take it. She misses you so much that a simple ‘thank you’ from you makes her happy.
After you both finish eating and the episode of the show you're watching ends, Melissa has had enough. She sets the plates down on your coffee table, turns off the tv and looks over at you. You just stare at her with that blank expression you’ve had all week.
“What’s going on with you y/n? You seem so disconnected that it feels like you’re not even here even though you’re sitting right beside me. And not just today, you’ve been like that all week. You don’t talk to anyone anymore, you don’t come in with your bright smile and uplifting spirit. Mr Johnson says you don’t give him high fives anymore and you don’t laugh at Ava’s jokes like you usually do. And you know what? I miss you, I miss when you come in with that beautiful smile and ask me anything, our conversations at lunch , and especially our chats after school when I come and visit you in the library. And I also miss our little texting chats after school and on the weekend I miss hanging out with you or texting you.” She finishes and when she looks at you , you’re still just looking at her with that blank stare, the only difference is that you keep looking down at your hands.
And that makes Melissa break, she starts crying. You don’t know what to do, you’re not yourself right now but to your core you’re still her poco sole. You put one of your hands in hers and then you just continue to stare at nothing in front of you, still holding her hand.
Melissa is surprised when you hold her hand and it makes her stop mid sob and she sniffs. She realises that you’re still there but maybe trapped in your own mind. She’s heard about people that have done that , and they said that they just woke up unhappy about anything for no real reason and they detach themselves from reality. She remembers that a shock helped them, something that broke them out and snapped them back to reality, something real. So Melissa does the first thing she thinks of, she reaches over , pulls you to her and embraces you in a tight hug. “Please come back to me y/n, please.” Melissa begs while still hugging you.
And then she feels arms wrap around her, hugging her back. She pulls back to look at you and you have the smallest little smile she’s ever seen and your eyes aren’t blank. “Y/n?” Is all she says.
You look at her. “Hi Melissa.” You say. And she covers her mouth in shock and happy tears start rolling down her face. You’re coming back to her. She gets so excited that she leans over and kisses you on the lips and you freeze for a second, you pull her more to you when she goes to pull away and you kiss her back. And Melissa melts into the kiss, she’s been missing you all week and kept her feelings to herself about you for about 4 months. And while she’s happy this is happening, she wants to make sure she truly has you back. She pulls back and looks into your eyes, and she sees the familiar light behind them you always had and she smiles at you. “You came back to me.” She says and for the first time in a week, you smile at her, your usual genuine smile. “Are you ok?” She asks you suddenly.
“I think I am now. I didn't know what was going on, I woke up and suddenly felt nothing, I didn’t feel anything and it scared me but it didn’t stop so I guess I hid in my own mind, tried to find something, feel something. And then I saw you crying and a spark came, a spark of sadness and so I held your hand, and then you hugged me and my whole body
felt happiness again. The kiss was a nice add on. You tell her and she looks at you smiling, she’s glad to have her poco sole back.
Monday morning, you walk in the entrance with a smile and your usual pep to your step is back. You see Mr Johnson and he looks up and sees you smiling. You then raise your hand for a high five and he excitedly gives you one, happy that your back.
You walk into the break room and everyone is either on their phones or talking to each other, Melissa sees you though and she smiles at you, and you smile at her. You walk over to the fridge “hey everyone, did you have a nice weekend?” You ask and everyone looks up at you and sees you smile as you pour some coffee in your mug. And everyone smiles at you.
“Y/N! You’re back!” Jacob says and you nod as he runs over and gives you a hug. “We were worried about you!” He says
“Ik, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.” You joke as you sit in your usual seat. You look a Barb who gives you a smile with a “welcome back sweetheart.”.
Melissa is still looking at you with a smile. She then tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and you smile at her. Everyone sees the interaction and smiles then goes back to what they were doing.
Melissa doesn’t care if they know, all that she cares about is that you came back to her, her poco sole.
Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta ,@imaginesmultifandoms
If you wish to be added, then let me know!
#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x oc#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti#x reader#fanfic
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Beatrice doubts she’s ever been so nervous. Her head is spinning and she fidgets with the bundle in her hands, brown paper crinkling as she tugs softly on the tiny yellow bow wrapped around it.
She hesitates on the front step, considers tossing the bouquet into the bin closest to her and running the opposite direction. This is possibly the worst decision of her entire life. Completely unprompted. She should’ve consulted Shannon.
"Oh." Ava pauses in the doorway, one foot on the stone steps mere inches away from Beatrice. "Were you…"
Beatrice feels her face burn when Ava’s eyes settle on the red tulips in her arms. Eleven red and a single yellow tulip.
Red tulips. A declaration of love.
"Mama, move it!" Diana pushes through Ava’s legs, stumbling into the daylight like a newborn deer, squinting against the sun until her eyes adjust and she recognizes Beatrice, grinning and leaping into her. "Papa!"
Beatrice can’t look away from Ava, she’s analyzing every micro expression that passes over her face. Ava knows what it means. Perhaps Valentine’s Day isn’t the time for this. Beatrice should’ve waited.
"Papa!" Diana yanks on Beatrice’s coattail, pointing to the brown paper bundle in her arms. "What’s it?"
Beatrice forces herself to thaw, heart pounding against her ribs as she swallows it from the back of her throat.
"It’s a gift. For you and… and your mama." Finally, Ava lifts her eyes, cheeks pink and lips parted. Beatrice fumbles over the flowers, trying to find the yellow tulip to tug free for Diana. But she doesn’t look away from Ava.
Beatrice had really hoped to catch them while Diana was still napping so she would have time to process before attending to the little girl. In fact, she probably had arrived while Diana was napping but she’d spent so long doubting herself that Diana had awoken.
Diana takes her flower from Beatrice, inspects it quietly before extending it for Ava to admire.
Beatrice hadn’t meant to declare her love for Ava in the snowy, winter air. She hadn’t meant for it to be a grand gesture. It was meant for Ava alone. For her and Ava.
She’d had a speech prepared for Ava’s tiny entryway, her stained linoleum tiles, her crayon colored walls.
I’m yours. She had wanted to say. For as long as you’ll have me.
Beatrice offers the remaining bouquet to Ava, extending them for Ava to either accept or deny. Waiting for Ava to either accept her or turn her away.
The next second moves impossibly slow. Ava steps toward the tulips, hand reaching to brush their petals before moving away. Beatrice’s heart falls, sinking deep into her stomach. Ava has been considering the best way to reject her. Beatrice has read too deep into their interactions. She’s misinterpreted and ruined everything and -
Oh.
Ava’s lips are soft and warm against hers, tender and tentative. Beatrice’s mind has barely processed what was happening before Ava is pulling away, apologies clouding the minuscule space between them until Beatrice surges forward and they crash together again.
They haven’t kissed since they returned from Christmas. Beatrice isn’t certain why, not a single moment has passed that she hasn’t thought about kissing Ava. The thought had overtaken her, pulsed deep in her veins until she’d had to pull away, little by little, creating a chasm between them. A chasm flowing with anxiety and worry.
She’s not certain what she’d ever fret over before because this might the only thing Beatrice had ever been certain of in her life.
They’re only pulled apart by a high whine from Diana, a cry of boredom and annoyance. Even then, they linger in each other, noses brushing and breath mixing.
Beatrice still hasn’t found the words she’d rehearsed previously, only four she hadn’t considered tumble past her lips into the shared air betwixt them.
"Will you be mine?" The uncertainty lingers only a moment before Ava pulls away to giggle, nodding rapidly and blushing deeply. She flings her arms around Beatrice’s neck and buries her nose there, effectively knocking the flowers from Beatrice’s hand. Beatrice doesn’t much mind.
"I thought I already was."
Find more here!
#warrior nun#ava silva#sister beatrice#avatrice#warrior nun s2#bea and ava#warrior nun season 2#wn s2#save warrior nun#warrior nun netflix#babysitting au#babysitter au#fic: like the princess
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hello! sims 2 miniopolis update!
first of all, my current sims 2 urbz sims >:3 outside of the obvious change of a default skin, they don't look that different compared to my old versions of them. But! believe me they are better.as well, this time! there's the DS exclusive characters and a few sims intended to be townies. In order, Lloyd, Red Man, Daschell Swank, Chet R. Chase, Bucki Brock's sister, Joe from the Flea Market (yes, he does have a name), Ava Cadavra, and Gordie Puck. Indeed, they're very red.
And an update to the town in general! I've finished most of the easy lots now, mostly having harder lots to do now. Such as the Mausoleum, Circus, Brownstones + Slice O'Life (which I… attempted. can you believe that the map of this game doesn’t follow the laws of physics?), etc.
New lots include:
- Junked Schoolbus (which IS connected to the Chopper Garage visually but they aren't the same lot)
- Chopper Garage (which i am not going to put underneath the road/jail! it looks cool in-game, but possibly impossible to do in the sims 2 but it makes no sense spatially!! the other side of the garage would just be underground!!!)
- Cemetery (Mostly just empty buildings for aesthetics. No graves… yet. and there probably won’t be until the final version of the hood.)
- Miniopolis Chronicle (TINY)
- Miniopolis Hospital + University (if this was ts3 i probably would have made them separately)
- Club Xizzle (what is it supposed to look like on the outside + should there be two?)
- Glasstown Megamall
- Cinema d'Urbania (how do you make a cinema in this game? big TV?)
I redid King Tower as well, just to make it fill out a 3x3 lot instead of a 2x2 lot, and Café Multiplaya has a new outdoor seating area (to fill in space). The Coffee Shop, the Market, and Glasstown apartments were in my last post, just kinda in the background. The Market has a lot of creative liberties taken to it, as I just didn't like how it translated into the Sims (as in it's made to represent the real-life French Quarter Market more). The Glasstown Apartment has a few other units in it for some of the Urbz sims (more on that in a bit!)
I removed pretty much, all the elevation from the .s4c terrain. It's easy to put back butttt, the sims 2 just doesn't work in a way that's friendly to sloped lots (and simcity 4 for slopes that take <1 unit of distance, you can't make steep cliffs in these games. so, basically, due to the compactness of the city, there isn’t enough room to add in slopes without making it all janky). They may come back at the end if we can Wizard the slopes to work the lots, but for now...
Ignore the weird road off the Sim Quarter. I was experimenting with what could be done with the riverboat. I was thinking about putting it on a beach lot and making a joke about it being temporarily landlocked (read: i already did) and was trying to find a good, functional place to put it. There may be other ways to do a riverboat though… hmmm
Anyways onto housing for the Sims. So, the Glasstown Apartments has a few more units to fit in a few other characters (Lottie Cash (I did manage to squeeze a bowling alley in there), Lily Gates, and Darius) but other than that? Very little! (I did Ewan’s House. however, it’s just a box; i took modest pretty literally). I might make a post soon where I talk about where each Urb would probably live, just as an excuse to talk to myself for a little while.
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As much as I love spreading the "Sister Beatrice top agenda", I do not think Beatrice would behave anywhere near confident on her first time with Ava.
First of all, it's my headcanon that before Beatrice became a nun she didn't actually get to live or experience a lot, so everything she could have learned in her teenage years, she actually didn't, because her parents were too strict, and she was just too afraid to stand up against them.
Her parents sent her to that boarding school probably because at some point she admitted she had romantic feelings for one of her friends, but that was it, Beatrice is oblivious to love, and relationships, and, of course, to sex.
Add that to the fact that Beatrice is a perfectionist, with a great fear of failure, a control freak that gets overwhelmed when she feels she can't handle the results of any given situation she's involved with... Beatrice doesn't quite know how she should behave around Ava, and the not knowing... that terrifies her.
It's not that she's worried Ava would make fun of her, of course, she would never. But there's just something inherently annoying about not being able to BE good at something, specially when the only way to learn 'that something' is... actually doing it. But, will she be able to be good enough for her? Will she be able to be what she thinks Ava deserves?
When Ava comes back, Beatrice doesn't immediately kiss her, she doesn't jump into a relationship with Ava and certainly she doesn't jump straight to bed with her, simply because she has absolutely no idea how to do it without making it weird. So, of course, their comeback kiss is started by Ava, their "what are we?" conversation is started by Ava, and their first time... guess what? Also started by Ava.
I picture this: after the re-encounter they didn't have much time to talk about what had happened between them, they were once again in survival mode and it's only one day after a big fight that they finally and unintentionally find themselves alone. Everything that happened is weightening on Beatrice and she's pretty much gay panicking every time Ava gets too close to her.
It's not that she doesn't want her, on the contrary she wants her so much she's overwhelmed by a feeling she had never felt before, or at least, not in a very long time and certainly not with enough maturity to understand it. When they last kissed it was a life or death situation, now they are just staring into each other's eyes, something clearly in the air, but everytime she tries to say anything, something holds her back.
Ava tries to give her space. Ava is everything that Beatrice is not. She's reckless, and a risk taker, and if she fails so what? she tries again. However, Ava is aware she closed a line last time... not only on Beatrice's vows but on a restriction she had put on herself. Ava is trying to make things right and Beatrice knows it but at the same time she's begging, begging, Ava to push her, because that's how they work right?
At some point the silence becomes too unbearable and Beatrice is frustrated. She hates that she can't be as resolved as she is in most of her activities and Ava is... kind of having fun at it, looking at the perfect sister Beatrice losing her shit it's fun, it's so unlike her it's amusing.
Ava is laughing and that only makes Beatrice's frustration grow. At some point Beatrice apologizes to Ava "I'm sorry, I really don't know what I'm doing and I hate it" and that's Ava's cue to do what she always does... push her a bit, give her courage. Ava walks slowy towards her "I don't need you to be an expert at this, Bea" she takes Beatrice's hands into hers "remember what I told you before I left? You don't need to be so perfect all the time." She lifts her hand to Bea's cheek and Bea gulps. She watches Bea lean into her touch, close her eyes, she brings her other hand to her chest and she can feel how fast her heart is beating "I only need you to be yourself." She says. And Bea opens her eyes and looks at her.
Ava leans close to her, slowly, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion and when she's a breath from her lips she whispers "can I kiss you again?", looking at her eyes again waiting for an answer. Beatrice would simply nod because, let's be honest, that woman is incapable to form a simple thought when Ava is *that* close to her.
And when they kiss... it's shy, and it's tame, and honestly, Beatrice doesn't know what to do with her hands. Ava would guide them, maybe to her hips "you can touch me" she would state. Ava would open her mouth, begging for *more*, she would let Bea's hair down, touch her shoulders, then her chest, she would find that first button and unpop it. Bea would startle at that, only for a moment, only because she isn't used to it, but looking at Ava, with her lips swollen, panting, big eyes... she would push that thought aside. She would kiss her again and this time she would allow herself to touch Ava, gently, but more determined.
Ava would start walking backwards, as if saying "take me to bed" and Bea would walk slowly before her, with her eyes closed, trying to focus only on Ava's lips because maybe that way she would be able to shut up all the insecurities. They would stumble on their way to the bed and Bea would try to say "I'm sorry" while Ava would put a finger on her lips and just laugh, and say a terrible pun to her. Being there Bea would doubt until she doesn't anymore, until she stops thinking and Ava becomes the only thing she's worried at.
#beatrice's top energy will be released but we need to get to that first#working through all those years of repression is not easy#my take on avatrice first time#bea would be shy as fuck#ava would be her normal self#again something im between a mini fic a character analysis and me havin a breakdown#warrior nun#warrior nun analysis#sister beatrice#ava silva#avatrice#save warrior nun#ava and beatrice#ficlet
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Headcannon: Planning Abbott's Halloween Dance with Gregory Eddie
Replaces half the candy with mini mouthwash and floss.
As much as you also care about the oral health of your students, it IS Halloween. What's Halloween without candy?
"There's still candy there."
*cameras pan to two lollipops and peppermints sitting center in otherwise empty space and back to Gregory's lying face*
You refill the candy with fun-sized chocolates and Starbursts.
Gregory silently takes it upon himself to hang the slightly higher decorations since he is very tall.
The staff, including you, tries everything to scare him. NOTHING scares him.
Casually mentions the abnormally higher number of dental decay and cavities immediately after Halloween in a "random" rant about his appreciation of floss and mouthwash.
*cameras pan to his face and yours*
When the two of you finally pull it all together, the students are having a great time and dancing to Ava's playlist.
You look at Gregory, and he mildly panics, looking away and back quickly, suddenly shifting on his feet and fidgeting.
"You wanna.. uh.." He gestures to the dance floor.
He knows all the latest dances and is popular with the kids who dance around him.
"Put THIS on your tiktok."
He doesn't eat the food, but drinks the party punch.
Finally gets scared and finches, but it's by a parent's regular appearance. She always wears a mask for covid. He didn't expect her face to look that way.
Smiles to not offend her, but stares wide-eyed at the camera when she leaves.
@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion
#original#abbott elementary#gregory eddie#gregory eddie fanfiction#gregory eddie x reader#abbott elementary fanfiction#spooky szn#halloween fanfiction
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THE MAP IS OUT!! Here's my individual part for it, along with my credit image! I'm so happy to have been able to work with such cool collaborators on this project, this was so fun! :D <33
WIP and fun facts below the cut!
First pass of my part!
General Notes:
- All of us had a cut-off frame so Sammy (our MAP host!) had space to transition shots! the stick in my cut-off is my oc Lixy <3
- As always, I don't have an actual animation program. Each frame of this was individually drawn in Clip Studio, saved as PNGs, and meticulously arranged in a video editing software. it took a while and a headache. the software crashed 4 times hdkjh </3
- The process was sketching, lining, then compiling it all together! Line art took the most time (because i don't like lineart hkjdh)
- Fun fact, all of the sketches (seen in the wip above) were all drawn on my first plane ride ever :> <3
- The background is Alan's animation program that I took from a screenshot from AVA 6 :> I didn't want to do anything too complex for it ;w; <3
- All of the slide transitions were done manually! It may look like tweening, but I don't have a program that can do tweening lmao :'> <3 Each of the slidings was individually 3-6 frames of moving them across the frame, a single frame of stretch for movement, then a settling frame before the next stick slid in.
- Green is doing air guitar as they slide in :3 <3
- My Blue design has a hat that can magically change into a Witch hat (when potion making), Chef hat (when cooking) or Sunhat (when gardening <33
- Purple looks nervous after he crashes into everyone, like they're expecting to be in trouble, but smiles and laughs when everyone else does. You can see Blue with their hands up, reassuring Purple.
- Originally Yellow didn't move as much in the final laugh scene, but I saw the first frame of the person after me (@/sleptonce!) which had Yellow in a little crouch :> i adjusted Yellow to match the next frame a little better!
- Also Yellow's hair is flipped from the way I usually draw it because I felt it worked better this way hgkjh <3
- (I totally didn't forget my Second's design has green eyes and had to edit those frames very quickly hfkjh <33)
- The only colors that aren't the stick's original colors are when Blue's hat falls on Purple, and Red's yellow bandana <3 (These are also the only movement animation in the blinking sequence!)
- Adding Alan's cursor was a literal last minute decision, he was never in any of the sketches, I literally added him in 15 minutes before submitting my part hgkjh <33 I think after my shot, Alan helps gently pick them up <3
- My suit in the credits is mostly red and orange, because my favorite sticks are Red and Second! <3 The rainbow cape reflects how I enjoy the color gang the most though hkjdh <33
Thanks for reading!! :D <33
#Alan Becker#Animation Vs Minecraft#Animator Vs Animation#AvM#AvA#my avm art#avm red#avm second coming#avm orange#avm yellow#avm green#avm blue#avm purple#starlight originals#lixy
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A story where R is really self conscious about their mobility aid (a cane if possible). Maybe one of the middle schoolers says something rude. And mostly a lot of comfort from Mel
i hope this is good enough because i wrote it in between teaching a bunch of first graders and babysitting two little gremlins
Lean On Me
WC: ~2.5k
You had finally decided to bite the bullet and get your knee replaced after months of agonizing pain with a little nudge from your wonderful wife. You had hoped it would be replaced and healed by the time the school year started up again, but unfortunately that was not the case. You weren’t able to get it replaced until the end of July, and with class being back in session at the end of August, you’re still using the cane and you’re under pretty strict restrictions.
“Maybe I should just take a month’s leave until I can walk without this damned thing,” you mutter to yourself as you’re sitting in Melissa’s classroom while she finishes prepping her room for this year’s upcoming little eagles. “I don’t want the kids to see me with this.” You lazily gesture to the cane that’s next to you.
“That’s up to you, my love,” Melissa tells you as she passes you by to hang a new Eagles sign. “But I do think that you’ll be incredibly bored while you’re recovering and no one is around.”
She’s right. You’ll be bored out of your mind if you decide to take off for a month- especially without her to keep you entertained. And you know that you hate having subs; if the principal would even be able to find a substitute for you this late into the game. So you decide that you’ll just have to tough it out despite the fact that you’re incredibly self-conscious of having to use the mobility aid at such a young age. You get stares while you’re just in the grocery store and hobbling around with your wife (she tries to insist that you stay home and rest, but you tell her that you like spending the time with her and that you need to stay at least somewhat active).
Development days come and go, most of your staff and team doing everything they can to make life easy for you- Ava even going as far as spray painting your parking spot in the front so that she knows not to rent out the space during the Eagles barbecue that she holds every year (both you and Melissa thank her for that). Janine and Jacob help you to set up your classroom while Gregory finds different workouts that are supposed to help it heal faster on top of the rigorous physical therapy that you’ve been attending. And Barbara is there to make sure that both you and your wife were well-rested and eating- offering moral support in any way she possible can.
And so, the first day of school is upon you. The redhead insists on carrying your things to your room, and she sets a chair outside of the door for you to be able to greet your students when they come in. As your old students run past you to get to their new teachers, they give you the biggest and warmest hugs, telling you that they hope you feel better. You see Melissa standing outside of her door, greeting her new students with the same gusto that she always does, and then she looks over to you. She gives you a questioning look, and you nod and smile in her direction- quietly raising your mug filled with coffee in a toast. She reciprocates your action and blows you a kiss subtly.
You hobble your way back into the classroom and take a seat at your desk while the kids settle in and do the morning work that is on their desk. After morning announcements, you have them all gather on the carpet and explain to them how this year is going to work. One of them raises a shy hand.
“What’s up, hun?” you ask one of the girls.
She asks you hesitantly, “Why do you have a cane? I thought only old people have a cane.”
You smile at her gently. “Thank you for asking, sweetheart. Mrs. Schemmenti had a knee surgery over the summer, and I’m still recovering. I’ll only need it for another month, maybe a little longer. But while I have it, everybody needs to be careful and gentle. I can’t walk around much either, so I’ll be teaching from my desk for the time being.”
Your class is overwhelmingly supportive of this, and they are so sweet about asking if you ever need anything or if they can help pass out papers for the entirety of the morning. This group is a bunch of love bugs who make you get well cards when you give them a bit of free time while you’re waiting to be called down to the gymnasium for the beginning of the year assembly.
You’re incredibly thankful that Ava calls your grade first so that you can make your way down slowly and find a seat before anybody else can swoop in- the last thing you need is to have to stand in the back because all of the chairs are taken. You’re pretty sure if that happened, your wife would riot for you, but that isn’t necessary.
You have your kids take a seat, Melissa slides in next to you and takes your cane to prop it up against the wall, and then you settle in for whatever ridiculous first day of school assembly will present itself this year.
Because you were the first ones in, you’re also the last ones out. It gives you time to get yourself and your kids ready to head back to the classroom for the small break they have before they head to lunch.
But when lunchtime comes, you get swept up in the sheer chaos of trying to get your students to the cafeteria in time so that you have your full lunch break. There are the little ones who are walking through the halls with their eyes wide and full of wonder, your kids who are walking at a fast pace that you’re having a hard time keeping up with, and then there are the older ones who couldn’t care less that you’re attempting to make your way through the halls without bumping into anyone. It doesn’t help that half of the middle schoolers now tower over you.
In a rush, one of them knocks the cane out of your hand with their lunch bag and snorts with laughter. “I thought canes were for old heads!”
Another one of them shouts that you’ve really let yourself go, and maybe it’s time for you to go into early retirement if you can’t walk around without the help of your mobility aid.
You stumble without the crutch there to lean on, and you nearly fall until Melissa has looped an arm around your waist and is helping to hold you up. You lean against her heavily as you try to steady yourself again. She turns to shout at the two who were making fun of you, but they’re already swept up in the sea of children that are all wearing the same uniform. She doesn’t know who to yell at, so she quickly turns back to you.
The student that is standing next to you looks absolutely appalled and picks up your cane immediately. She hands it to you gently. “Are you okay?”
You nod and gesture for her to continue walking. Your students do as they keep their eyes trained on you to make sure that you’re okay.
Once all of your kids are in the cafeteria and you see that they are all seated and eating or in line to get a school lunch, you turn. Melissa is still right at your side, her arm still looped around you.
“Go enjoy your lunch, babe,” you tell her gently as you take her hand away. “I’m just gonna sit in my room for lunch if you wouldn’t mind bringing my kids back down with you when the period is over?”
“You don’t want to have lunch with us?” the redhead asks you quietly.
“I don’t know if I can make it down to the staffroom, and then the lunchroom, and back today,” you admit softly. “My knee is really hurting from physical therapy yesterday.”
“I’ll be down with your lunch,” Melissa promises. She squeezes your hand gently before turning on her heel.
You settle at your desk, and despite yourself willing the tears not to spring to your eyes they do. You wipe at them furiously. The comments from the older kids really shouldn’t be affecting you the way that they are. And you really would rather not have your wife see you shedding tears over their idiotic comments- you know she’ll be roping Ava into a manhunt to see who it was anyway, and it’ll only be that much worse for the students if she catches you crying.
Your wife comes in with both of your lunches and an icepack for you- not that you requested one. You quickly wipe your tears as you hear her heels hitting the tile underneath of her, but she still sees it.
“Hun, does it hurt that bad?”
You turn to her with a sad smile. “No. I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth, but your voice betrays you and it cracks ever so slightly.
She sets your lunch in front of you and pulls up two chairs. She gestures for you to set your leg up on the second chair as she sits int he one next to you.
“Mel, you really can go enjoy lunch with he crew,” you tell her gently. “I’ll be okay by myself.”
“Ice,” is all she says as she takes a bite of lunch. She sets the pack on your knee, and you flinch slightly as the cool sensation ripples through your body, sending a shiver down your back.
You sit there, and she watches worriedly as you don’t make a move for your lunch at all.
“Babe, you have to eat,” she says softly.
You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself. “I’m not that hungry.”
“My girl? Not hungry?” the redhead teases you. “C’mon.”
You don’t know what happens, but something within you snaps. “When I’m not burning nearly as many calories as I used to because of this fucking knee, I don’t get as hungry!” You burst into tears again. “God, I never should’ve gotten it done, and then I wouldn’t need this damn cane!” You throw it across the room in anger before curling in on yourself.
Your wife is up and retrieving it in seconds, only for you to throw it past her again.
“Babe,” she warns as she picks it up again.
“I don’t fucking want it! I’m sick of everyone staring at the young woman who has to depend on a god damn cane to walk!” you cry.
“Is this because of-” she starts to ask you, but you cut her off.
“I’m sick of being stared at in the grocery store, or when we decided to go to Hershey and I had to use one of the wheelchairs! I don’t want the kids to go home and tell their parents that I’m some poor, crippled woman who can’t teach standing up!” you choke out. “I- I just want to be normal again!”
“So help those kids who pushed past you,” she grumbles before taking her seat back and wrapping her arms around you. She kisses you gently. “It’s all part of the healing process. You’ll be back to running around in no time, and you aren’t going to be in as much pain.”
“It’s going to be at least another month before I can walk without the cane,” you yell, frustrated tears falling down your cheeks.
“And you know I’ll always be here to lean on, your kids will clearly do everything they can to help you, and you know the staff here has your back,” she tries to comfort you.
“I couldn’t even properly take my kids to lunch,” you sigh, and you hate how whiny you sound.
“So I’ll take them and bring them back for you with my kids,” your wife tells you. “That way all you have to worry about is getting to and from the staffroom.”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “You already do so much for me.”
“And I will continue to do everything I can for you for the rest of my life,” she tells you with confidence. “When I said for better or for worse, I was serious.”
“I love you,” you whisper as the first genuine smile appears on your lips since the lunch incident.
“I love you too,” she mumbles as she leans in to kiss you. Then she pulls away and pushes your lunch towards you. “Now eat. I know you’re hungry.”
You pick up the fork and shovel some food in your mouth. So maybe you lied to Melissa when you said you weren’t hungry.
Come the end of the day, your wonderful wife picks up your kids and takes them out for dismissal while you ice your knee again. You see the kids off with a wave and a smile as they tell you that they hope you feel better soon. You’re given quite a few hugs, and a few drawings of you with the students are mixed in.
When you expect her to come back in once the kids are gone though, she doesn’t. And you can’t really leave without her because you can’t carry everything and navigate the halls with your cane just yet. You shoot her a text.
Did you forget about your crippled wife?
I’ll be down in a few, she responds quickly. Just chatting with Ava.
She’s telling the truth because the next thing you know, she’s in your room and grabbing your bags along with all of hers, and you’re heading out for the night.
“Why were you chatting with Ava?”
“Just had a few questions for her about this school year,” is all the redhead says. “Now let’s get going- you have physical therapy at 4:30, and then it’s an early night for the Schemmentis. I am wiped.”
The next morning, you and your wife are sitting and standing outside your classrooms getting ready to greet your students when two of the older kids come up to you. They hand you apology notes and hazard a glance at Melissa- they look terrified of her. She just folds her arms over her chest and smirks.
“Mel,” you sigh once they walk away. “I appreciate you defending my honor, but do not make two middle school boys look about ready to sh… their pants on the second day of school.”
“Nobody makes fun of my wife,” she shrugs. “Especially when it’s about something she’s already insecure about.”
“Is that why you were with Ava? You were looking at the security footage?”
Again, she shrugs. “Let’s just say, we’re having a school wide assembly next week about how we shouldn’t make fun of people who have mobility issues or any other sort of disabilities.”
#melissa schemmenti fanfiction#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#abbott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary
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"Going back" AvA AU
First part of this / Next part
"A weekly battle?" Chosen asks with a confused look. It's been a week since he moved in with the CG, and it's been... interesting to say the least. He got his own room in a pixelated place thanks to something the kids called 'Minecraft.' He had heard of it before; it became a pretty popular game for a while. But to be honest, nothing interested TCO more than conquering websites alongside Dark back then.
Ah, Dark. For some reason, his thoughts always drift back to him...
Chosen found out the kids lacked individual names. Oh, they claimed they did, but in reality, they were simply identified by their colors. Red, Green—mere descriptors that couldn't help but make Chosen scoff inwardly, How could they settle for being identified solely by their colors?
It seemed too simplistic, too devoid of identity, for Chosen, his name had always been his beacon, his identity etched into every pixel of his existence.
Powerful, glorious, strong, special.
It is true that the black hollow-head didn't grasp the importance of it at first, but after what happened, Chosen actually had time to think, not about destruction or mayhem, just actually think. And now that he thinks about it, these kids are way more different than he is or what he's used to. Still, being named after a color is stupid at least. It looks like Alan couldn't care enough to at least name them properly.
No, Chosen shakes his head slightly as his red eyes glance at the bar task under him.
It's better this way, no expectations, no destiny or something. The kids are actually lucky, luckier than he was at least.
"What are these weekly battles about?" Chosen finally asks. He reclines himself over the soft sofa on the left side of the desktop, leaving enough space to appreciate the battle that is about to start.
"Oh, that's easy!" Second says with a smile. "It's when we usually reunite together to have like a sparring contest! The winner gets one of these," Second says excitedly as he takes out of nowhere a cubic-like trophy in gold. Seems like these kids have made their whole life around Minecraft.
The red kid (Chosen assumes the youngest one) is bouncing eagerly around, throwing punches at the air and getting excited in general. Meanwhile, the green one is patting his shoulder, probably to calm him down and then pointing at himself in an arrogant way. Red only points at him, saying in a tone of defiance, "Hey! Just because you mostly win it doesn't mean you're the best!"
Green says, leaning with his hands on his hips and smirking, "Isn't that exactly what it proves? That I'm the best?"
"Ugh! Don't try to use your mind tricks on me Green! It won't work," but Chosen could clearly perceive a hint of hesitation in Red's eyes. Kids, he thinks in a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
Meanwhile Blue and Yellow were standing more closely to Second, who was almost Infront of Chosen.
The blue one seemed excited as well but in a calmer way, while the yellow one shared his enthusiasm in the same level of excitement, she was also talking about possible strategics and nudging playfully at her blue partner about winning.
They really think this is a game.
Chosen's pupils look at the side without moving his head.«No wonder these kids don't know what to do in a real fight» his eyes narrow as he stares at a lost point on the desktop. His perceptive memory still remembers how the same sticks disintegrated in front of his helpless form.
Pinned, bloody, and beaten up. Helpless. Weak. Weak.
Cursors. Chosen hates Dark for making him feel this way, and this desktop is not helping at all. Ironically, the only other place where he has felt like this before. Thanks to a certain cursor.
Why did he think it was a good idea to come back to this place in the first place? Maybe his house was too painful destroyed to live in. Maybe it's because there are multiple wanted signs searching for him (not that he's afraid). Maybe it's because it doesn't matter where he is anymore.
He will grief survive anyway.
He won't fail again.
"Wanna join us Chosen?" Since Chosen told his name to the kids, he hasn't stopped hearing his name, he almost felt self conscious of it, Chosen glances at Second and says in a monotonous voice "Wouldn't it be unfair?"
"Unfair?...uh" Second trails off as he rests his hand on his chin. Second tilts his head with a curious look to the black stickfigure. "Maybe, but it's just a friendly sparring! You can even teach us cool moves or new techniques to learn! And probably-"
"I meant you" Chosen says in a dead tone, his crimson eyes flickering to see the green confusion in Second. "Isn't it unfair if you and I fight with them?" Second has a puzzled expression on his face.
"What do you mean by that? We're all the same here! Well except for you that you're super fast and powerf-"
"We're both powerful" Chosen says bluntly, he narrows his eyes slightly, «strange» since they came back from defeating Dark, Chosen tried to give his thanks to Second yet, the orange stickfigure looked confused about it, trying to deny he remembers anything about "healing powers" or "Resurrection" and thanking Chosen instead.
And just now, Second shakes his head stubbornly as he says "No Chosen! I already told you, I'm glad you appreciated our efforts but I was just as helpless as my...friends were" Second bows his head in the floor, his lip trembling slightly "I... almost died with them, until you saved us"
At the mention of death, the rest of the stickfigures fell silent and glanced at Chosen then at Second, seems like it was still a sensitive topic for the colorful sticks.
«So he doesn't really remember anything» Chosen thinks inwardly with a sigh, it's not of his surprised that Second is oblivious of his own powers, probably even Alan doesn't know anything about them.
Funny enough it's how it was only activated when he had to survive.
Chosen remembers being in control since the first time he was created, not a trigger or a reason, just a purpose
Survive
Still he's smart enough to know when he has done enough questions to someone, Second actually looks affected by what has happened a days ago before. Even the rest of the colorful sticks were silent and looking down or leaning on each other as if to reassure to each other they're good, they're alive.
«Enough probing»
Chosen sighs again
"If I join you, do you guys will let me be?" Chosen asks with the slightly twitch of an eyebrow in a questioning tone, sounding more reluctant than excited yet Chosen tries.
Second seems to not notice and he perks up at his question, his face splits into a wide smile as he says in a joyful tone "Oh yes please! It'll be fun, we promise!"
Red, who's in the right side of the desktop also smiles, he exclaims childlike "Yes! You'll see me kick this dude's ass!" Red chuckles as she shoves Green playfully, the latest snort at Red's statement and shoves back affectionately as he says "Hah! In your dreams!" And start bickering.
Yellow just smiles in amusement at his friends antics as Blue says with a more gentle smile looking at Second "Yeah! Maybe that would help us to improve our fighting skills as well!"
"My thoughts exactly!" Second beams as he approaches to the now excited stickfigures, shaking his arms up and down in anticipation.
Chosen looks at them with a questioning look for a few seconds, before his lips traitorously twitch slightly into the attempt of an amused smile. Kids
He quickly composes himself as he gets up slowly from the couch and asks
"So? When do we start?"
#alan becker#artists on tumblr#my art lol#animator vs animation#animation vs minecraft#stickmans#ava fanart#ava#fanart#drawing#ava tdl#ava tco#ava tsc#ava yellow#ava blue#ava red#ava green#ava the chosen one#ava the second coming#ava the dark lord#ava au#ava fanfic#ava fandom#avm yellow#Going back au
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ELIAVA HEADCANNONS
May 2024 is too far, and the delusion preservation is imperative.
Eli listens to classical music just for Ava.
Ava sometimes sneaks into the library at the King's mansion just to swipe a book or two that she may have seen Eli reading. Other times, she bribes Creighton.
Eli is practically adopted by Silver the moment Elsa reveals his little crush (privately, of course) on her daughter. It does not stop Cole from throwing jabs at him whenever he comes over to hang out with Aunt Silver and to spy on his girl.
During their childhood, they've been locked together by their friends/siblings/cousins in the same room/closet plenty of times.
As a sign of rebellion against her parents, Ava once dyes her entire hair pink. The mortification hits her soon after and she refuses to talk to anyone until one text, one silent drive to the salon later she's sharing her snickers bar with Eli as a form of thanks.
Eli always leaves an anonymous bouquet of pink roses (her favorite) for Ava before her recitals in her dressing room. It's the only sign that he attends her recitals at all (Eli has attended every single one of them).
Whenever Eli goes AWOL, only Ava knows he's hiding in the library in a dark nook that has space behind the shelf just enough for two people. Sometimes, she joins him. Other times, she lays her head against his shoulder as he reads in the quiet.
All the teasing garnered from her friends due to Eli's attention suddenly stops one day. Becomes more...cautious.
Eli swears he had nothing to do with it and that he would never threaten them (he's lying, he nearly makes Remi cry).
Ava, like her mom, also writes journals where a lot of pages have Eli's name written, circled, crossed and scribbled out.
For prom, RES hosts a masquerade theme but every single boy in the school is terrified to ask Ava to prom. Glyndon decides to go without a date as well and Cecily flies in to join them. Both friends pretend not to notice Ava dancing with a masked stranger on the dancefloor at midnight.
Eli never stays longer than five minutes at any of Ava's birthdays/sometimes she never finds him at all, but she always finds his gifts in her room.
Ava has a jersey with Eli's number on it that Cole secretly swipes out of her closet to burn but gets caught by Silver.
Ariella is Eli's partner-in-crime.
After Eli leaves for University, Ava shows up at the King's mansion under the pretense of hanging out with Elsa but it's just to sneak into Eli's room and look at all his awards and trophies longingly she does not miss him.
When they finally start dating, they are met with long-suffering sighs, "finally"'s and "took you guys forever."
Ava drops little hints of herself wherever she can find a place for it. Scrunchie on his gearshift. Perfume bottle on his desk. "Accidental" kiss mark on his collar. Her ring on a chain around his neck.
Ava makes Eli watch all the chick-flicks she can because she's appalled when she finds out he hasn't watched Mean Girls.
"BOo, yoU wHoRE" - Remi says, sitting next to Cecy, Glyn, Annika and Ava wearing a facemask matching theirs.
The moment Cole opens the door to see his daughter and King's spawn standing together, hand-in-hand, the first thing he says is "No"
And it's final, too. No amount of convincing from both Silver and Ava seems to work.
When he finally comes around and they all sit down for dinner, they have a "Daddy, can you pass the salt?" moment after which Eli is chased out of the house by Cole and his gün.
Eli sneaks in thru the balcony into Ava's room anyway. Both Ariella and Silver know and choose not to tell Cole.
Eli's only saving grace with Cole is that Eli would kilI for his daughter or die trying and Cole wouldn't want any man willing to give anything lesser for his Ava.
●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○
Part two?
#eli king#ava nash#eliava#royaleliteseries#legacy of gods#cole nash#silver queens#ruthless empire#rina kent
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