#after i do the last of us avatrice au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hypertic · 2 years ago

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Avatrice - neighbors AU

[part 2 of this]

Beatrice knocks on the door, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants as she waits for an answer. When it doesn’t come as fast as she hoped, she considers turning back around and pretending she was never there.

She knocks again; she has no choice.

“Coming!”

The door swings open, revealing Ava in an oversized shirt and barely visible shorts underneath it. She’s slightly out of breath, a hairbrush in her hand caught mid air at the sight of her neighbor.

“Beatrice.” She greets with a smile, breath still caught in her throat at the sight of Beatrice in navy blue dress pants and a white shirt.

Ava’s smile faltered as she noticed that her hair was down and a little messy instead of its usual neat bun, and had dark bags under her eyes. If Ava looked a little further, Beatrice seemed a lot paler than a couple of days ago and her eyes were watery and full of concern.

“I’m so sorry to bother you this early, Ava.” Beatrice began, a tired, pleading look on her face as she fidgeted with a hair tie on her wrist. “I’m really sorry, I know you probably have a ton of things to do today-“

“Not really.” Ava interrupted, giving Beatrice a reassuring smile.

It was a lie, of course. She was about to leave for her part time job, but Beatrice didn’t know that. Ava wasn’t sure why she lied, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t regret it.

“Are you sure?” Beatrice spoke as she checked the time on her wrist watch. She then pulled back her hair, tying it up on a bun with practiced ease. Both actions were closely followed by Ava, who was entranced by the graceful way Beatrice’s hands moved.

“Yes!” Ava answered after staring for longer than it would be acceptable, now looking anywhere but Beatrice.

“I- I need to ask you a favor. A big favor.” Beatrice heaved a sigh, thinking of the most effective way to deliver her pleas. “Willow and Olivia are sick.” Beatrice felt her heart clench at the sudden change in Ava’s expression, her smile quickly replaced by a worried pout, and her eyes holding so much affection Beatrice thought that alone could make it all better. “They’re alright, but I can’t send them to daycare or preschool while sick.”

Ava’s eyes, expressive as ever, went from relief to confusion to understanding in a matter of seconds, making Beatrice’s foggy head spin.

“I hate to ask, but I have a meeting I really couldn’t cancelled, I tried, but-“

“You want me to take care of them?” Ava said with surprise, and maybe a drop of fear.

Even if she saw it coming, she never expected Beatrice to trust her with her children, specially if they were sick. She knew she was probably her last resource, but Ava was more than willing to show her she was worthy of that trust.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, really.” Beatrice repeated, interpreting her surprise as rejection. “I’ll pay you for the babysitting hours-“

“Don’t-Don’t apologize.“ Ava interrupted, teeth worrying her lower lip. “Of course I’ll take care of them. For free.” She clarified, and Beatrice felt her knees go weak with relief.

“Thank you.” She sighed, leaning against the door frame. Ava couldn’t help but smile at the sight, taking a step closer to her.

“What do I need to know?” Ava asked, snapping Beatrice out of her daze as she closed the door of her apartment. That question alone made Beatrice kick into mother-mode, each of her kids needs running through her head and sorted carefully in different categories.

Beatrice let them into their apartment which Ava noticed, was a little messier than the last time she was there (but still nothing compared to her own).

“Olivia is already getting better, she just has a bad cough and a runny nose, but her doctor said it should go away on its own.” Ava nodded, mindlessly following Beatrice to the kitchen. “You shouldn’t really give babies much medication, so I’ve just been using nasal drops and a humidifier.”

Ava noticed that the kitchen sink was piled with dishes, baby bottles and cups, which only showed how busy Beatrice must be with both of her kids sick. She didn’t know her for long, but it felt out of character for Beatrice to let her dirty dishes pile up.

“Willow is… not better. She still has a fever, her throat is really sore and she had a headache this morning. I gave her Tylenol around 6, and she’s a bit better. You can give her more Tylenol around noon, but she’s not easy to convince.”

“Got it.” Ava said confidently, taking the children’s Tylenol bottle from Beatrice’s shaky hands.

Beatrice checked her clock again and hurried out of the kitchen, Ava on tow. They walked silently towards the hallway and, as Beatrice creaked open the first door, Ava took her time to look further into the small hallway.

She’d noticed Beatrice’s apartment was twice the size of hers, so she could only guess that the other two doors lined up at the left side of the hallway were a bathroom and another room. At the very end, she could spot the corner of a neatly made white bed, which she assumed was Beatrice’s.

“Ava!” Willow’s excited yet weak, dry voice brought her attention back to the room in front of her.

The room didn’t have any specific color theme, unlike the rest of the home, but was rather full of small colorful toys and decorations. It didn’t feel too saturated, though, balanced out by the pristine white walls and simple wooden furniture.

In the opposite corner was Willow, lying in a bed that seemed too big for her small, pale body. She had discarded her tablet to the side and sat up as Ava approached her.

“Hi.” Ava greeted, keeping her voice low and gentle. “I heard you were sick, how are you feeling?” She took a step closer to the bed, sitting down next to Willow after she gestured for her to do so.

“Weird.” She replied weakly, and Ava couldn’t help but brush her hand against the girl’s forehead, sweeping her sweaty bangs to the side and subtly taking her temperature.

“Ava will be staying with you today while I go to that urgent meeting you heard me fussing about earlier, is that alright?” Beatrice asked, soft yet serious, just like one would do with an adult. If Ava didn’t know them already, she would still guess Beatrice is a wonderful mother by that interaction alone.

Willow seemed to think about it for a moment, before giving her mother a firm nod and then a bright smile to Ava that made her tiny eyes disappear.

“I’ll be back soon enough.” Beatrice reassured, making her way to Willow’s bedside and running a soft hand through the girl’s tangled hair. She guided her down gently, tucking her in, and kissing her goodbye; a kiss to her forehead, one to her left cheek and then one to her right.

Ava tried her best to ignore how close she was to Beatrice, she really did, but it became hard to focus on anything else when she felt the woman’s leg brush against her knee. Beatrice seemed to notice too, taking a rushed step backwards and heading for the door, not before waving goodbye.

“Willow doesn’t get to use her ipad on weekdays, but I allowed it since she’s sick, so she might spend the entire day on it.” Beatrice stated, making her way back to the living room. “Olivia is asleep, but should wake up soon.” Beatrice moved around the room, gathering papers and keys and shoving them all in her purse. “Can I get your number?”

God, Beatrice wished she was saying that under better circumstances.

Still, that didn’t mean her hands weren’t shaking any less as she handed her phone to Ava, who quickly typed in her number and sent a message to herself so she could save Beatrice’s.

“Thank you so much.” Beatrice said, her hand already on the door knob. “I’ll text you about their food and medicine in detail while I’m on the subway. Please, call me if there’s any problem or change.” She pleaded, finally out of the door.

“Of course.” Ava nodded, waving at Beatrice who reluctantly walked to the elevator. “Take care!” Ava yelled as the elevator doors creaked open, making Beatrice smile for the first time in days.

###

The first thing Ava did was call Michael, her coworker, and convince him to cover for her at work. Then, she made her way to Willow’s room, checking her temperature and encouraging her to drink more of her water. Willow just let her, too drowsy to fight against the thermometer under her arm and too focused on her tablet to make conversation.

Ava then made her way to Olivia’s room, finding the baby already wide awake and jumping on her crib. Ava smiled, relieved to see that she was clearly feeling much better than her sister, and after a lot of cooing and good morning tickles she changed her diaper and clothes, taking her time to pick the cutest outfit she could find because, why not.

After struggling to get the child into a white shirt and some overalls, she remembered to use the nose drops as Beatrice had instructed. What she failed to mention, was the little bulb thing she needed to use to suck the baby’s snot, which proved to be a lot more difficult. It took around 15 minutes of pleading and crying and threatening (from both parts involved), but she managed to clear Olivia’s nose.

They spent a while playing on Willows room, who’s fever had gone up. It was hard to keep both girl’s entertained while trying to bring down the oldest’s fever by placing cold rags on her forehead, but eventually she got the hang of it. She even managed to read them a story that had Willow back asleep in minutes.

By then, she had received Beatrice’s detail instructions about their food and medicine, so she set out to give a bottle to Olivia while she made them lunch.

By the time Beatrice was set to arrive, both kids had eaten well, Willow took her medicine, (which was another 30 minutes of pleading and bribing) and felt well enough to be out of bed. She had asked Ava to read her a story to which she had agreed, only to find that the book was completely in french. Willow was a little disappointed since it was her favorite book, but quickly forgot all about it after Ava offered to teach her spanish.

When Beatrice finally walked through the door, hours later than she’d anticipated, she almost felt like crying at the scene of Willow, in way better spirits than this morning, giggling at the word ‘refrigerador’. What almost brought her to tears, though, was the sight of her kitchen sink completely empty, with Ava putting away the last baby bottles.

“Ava.” The name left her lips before she could stop it, drawing attention to her figure, leaning against the doorframe.

Willow ran up to her, giving her a big, tight hug as Beatrice picked her up and ran her hands through her bangs, subtly checking if she had a fever.

Ava just stayed where she was, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as her brain replayed the way her name sounded coming from Beatrice. She took tentative steps towards the pair, not wanting to interrupt Willow’s cheerful retelling of her day, while Beatrice smiled and nodded at every little thing with so much adoration in her eyes Ava felt a small knot forming in her throat.

She took the chance to study Beatrice more closely, who looked, in all honestly, three times worse than she did this morning. She looked pale, almost translucent, and a thin layer of sweat covered her forehead.

“Willow,” Ava called, unable to keep her mouth shut when she noticed Beatrice’s trembling fingers. “Why don’t you go wash your hands so you can help me with dinner?” The little girl, fever and cough long forgotten, all but jumped out of her mother’s arms and darted to the bathroom.

“Slower, Lou! You’re still sick, remember?” Beatrice scolded, but her eyes were fixed on Ava. “I’m sorry I’m late, I left as soon as I could.” Beatrice apologized, and Ava wanted to tell her to stop saying sorry for everything, that it was fine and that she didn’t mind at all.

Ava didn’t get the chance to get a word out, as Beatrice tumbled forward, almost falling to her knees if Ava didn’t catch her, placing her arms underneath Beatrice’s to keep her upright.

“Shit.” She muttered, ignoring the warmth spreading in her chest at the closeness. Ava let go with one hand and brought it up to feel Beatrice’s warm, sweaty forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

Ava would’ve threatened to slap her if she ever said sorry again, but chose to stay quiet and gently guided the woman to the living room, sitting her down at the couch.

“Thanks.” Beatrice said weakly, shivering slightly under Ava’s touch, but blaming it on the fever. “You don’t have to actually cook for Willow, I’ve already taken too much of your time.”

“You’re sick.” Ava stated, despite how obvious it was. Beatrice frowned in confusion, as if her being sick had nothing to do with Ava still standing there, in front of her. “Lay down, I’ll be right back.” She pushed her down carefully, running out to get the thermometer before Beatrice could stop her.

She wasn’t surprised to find Beatrice attempting to stand up, stopping her with a gentle hand on her shoulder and pushing her back down. Without a word, she handed the thermometer to Beatrice.

“I’m fine.” She said, after checking her temperature.

Beatrice was in fact not fine, and was nearing 39°C, which she was unable to hide from Ava as the girl snatched the thermometer from her hands with a frown.

“Is mommy ok?” Willows tiny, worried voice echoed through the living room at the sight of the thermometer. Beatrice gave her a nod, but even Willow didn’t seem convinced.

“She’s not feeling very well, Willow.” Ava said truthfully as the girl ran up to her mother. “I’m sure she’ll feel better after some rest.” Ava placed a comforting hand on the girls back, hoping she would understand.

Beatrice’s shook her head, but it was completely ignored by her daughter, who ran to get a blanket and unceremoniously dumped it on her mother’s lap, trying to stretch it out.

If Ava noticed Beatrice’s eyes getting more watery, she did her the favor to ignore it and blame it all on the fever.

Silently, she took Willow’s tiny hand and guided her to the kitchen, telling her to wait there while she rummaged through the medicine cabinet to find ibuprofen. When she went back to the living room, Beatrice was laying down, awkward and tense, but she was laying down.

“Ava, you really don’t-“ She started to argue as soon as she came into view.

“Take it.” Ava all but shoved the glass of water and the advil bottle on her hands, turning around and sprinting to the kitchen before Beatrice could argue.

For a moment, Ava worried she was overstepping, that Beatrice genuinely didn’t want her there. She dared to take a small peak behind the safety of the kitchen door, only to find Beatrice staring hesitantly at her hand, letting out sigh before swallowing the pills and leaning back down.

Ava smiled and turned on the ball of her feet, getting ready to make the best spaghetti of her life.

With the help of Willow, who knew where things were in the kitchen better than Ava, the food was ready just in time for Olivia to wake up and make a mess with a few spaghetti’s and her applesauce.

Despite Willow begging for waffles, Ava decided not to test her stomach or her mother’s patience, and settled for cutting some apples in misshaped bunnies to convince her to have some.

Ava considered 6PM was quite early, even for a toddler, but still guided Willow back to bed who sat down with her tablet while Ava played with her sister. Willow fell asleep soon after and Ava tiptoed her way back to the living room, taking Olivia with her. She took a look a Beatrice, her slow breathing and relaxed features, the ones Ava thought Beatrice might never show while awake.

“Let’s find you something to do.” She whispered to the baby, who smiled as Ava bounced her all the way to her room.

The sun went down slowly, covering the entire room in a calming, red hue, that seemed to have the opposite effect on Olivia. The baby started crying, far louder than Ava expected, and wasn’t sure what to do to fix it.

She couldn’t be hungry or sleepy, having just woken from a nap, and she didn’t have a runny nose, at least not before she started wailing uncontrollably. Ava tried hushing her, rocking her, bouncing her around, but nothing seemed to work.

“Here.” Beatrice’s voice made Ava jump back in surprise, too caught up in the baby’s cries to hear the door open. She didn’t hesitate to hand the child back though, as her mothers calm, gentle voice seemed to have an instant effect on Olivia.

“Sorry.” Ava scratched the back of her head awkwardly. “I think I let her nap for too long.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Beatrice reassured, and Ava thought it was ironic how that was exactly what she wanted to tell her hours before. “I can’t thank you enough, Ava.” She stated truthfully, taking a tiny step towards her.

“Well, I owed you one, remember?” Ava tried to dismiss it, but Beatrice shook her head.

“You did far more than what you owed me.” Her voice was firm but quiet, not wanting to disturb the baby in her arms.

“We’re even.” Ava insisted.

“It doesn’t feel like we are.” Beatrice pushed, keeping her eyes focused on Olivia, on the window, on anything but Ava.

“How are you feeling?” Ava asked, leading the conversation away from her.

She was genuinely concerned, though, and couldn’t help take a small step foward, pressing her palm against Beatrice’s forehead.

“Sorry.” Ava took her hand back almost instantly, as if it burned. “Sorry, I’m overstepping again, sorry.”

“You’re not.” Beatrice assured. She knew deep down that , had it been any other neighbor or babysitter, it would be overstepping, but it was Ava.

She wasn’t sure what made her different: if it was her warm smile, the way she genuinely seemed to care about her kids, about her, or if her fever was making it all feel different.

“You don’t have to take care of me, though, I think you’ve had enough with the two little devils.” Beatrice said with endearment, looking down at Olivia who seemed fast asleep. She managed to put her down in the crib, ignoring the fact that she’d have to wake her up to change her eventually.

“They’re adorable.”

“They are.”

They made their way out of the room in comfortable silence as Ava decided it was time for her to leave.

“Beatrice.” She called, though there was no need, since the woman followed her closely to the door. “Take care, please.” Beatrice was taken aback at the words, not so much by the content, but by the pleading, almost desperate way they were spoken, like Ava truly worried for her. “I didn’t want to say it before, but you looked like shit when you walked in.”

Beatrice giggled, and Ava felt the room spin.

“Thanks, Ava. For everything.” Beatrice took a step forward, closer. “I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” Ava let out an annoyed, almost angry groan.

“There’s no need, Beatrice.” It was her turn to take a step closer. “If you ever need me to babysit I’d be more than happy to.”

“Really?” Ava was surprised that Beatrice was surprised.

“Of course, Willow is amazing.” Beatrice felt her heart swell with pride at the sight of Ava’s genuine smile; maybe she wasn’t doing bad after all. “And Olivia is lovely. I wouldn’t mind spending and entire day with all of you.”

Beatrice’s heart was now about to burst because, even if they were talking about her children, and Ava just seemed like a generally nice person, her last words seemed to hold a different weight to them.

All of you.

Ava turned her back to her, opening the door to hide her burning cheeks at the slip up. Beatrice would probably think she’s weird, or that shes taking advantage of her kids to flirt with her, if that could be considered flirting. Beatrice probably never saw it that way because she may not even like-

“Ava.” Beatrice’s soft hand found her place into Ava’s, who held the doorknob tightly. She took it back quickly, clearing her throat before speaking. “I- I feel the same.”

Beatrice chastised herself for the incredibly lame, awkward reply. It was true, but there were thousands of different ways to say that, without sounding so damn stupid.

Unsurprisingly, Ava gave her a wide grin, crossing the doorframe into the hall. She waved as Beatrice shut the door, cheeks flushed red and hands shaking.

It’s the fever.

[reblogs, comments and ideas are very welcomed]

#time is weird here #I also had Beatrice’s day written but it felt too long #degrees celsius because I’m not a freak #I know nothing about toddlers btw #if it wasn’t clear already #but neither does Ava!#avatrice #warrior nun #wlw #writing #ava silva #sister beatrice #save warrior nun #avatrice au #ficlet

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possibilistfanfiction · 2 years ago

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legitimately fuckin obsessed with the avatrice football au my dude. that last snippet brought me pure JOY im tellin you what

[well here's some ava pov while i procrastinate ch3 plot lol, s/o to @unicyclehippo for the worst/best gay pun of all time, love u. honestly this is long enough to put on ao3 so ... i'll do that in a footy au series i suppose for context... justice for chanel lol]

///

waking up from your first surgery is a blur, mostly an inexplicable terror when you can’t feel your legs, when you can barely move your fingers. tears leak from your eyes and you can’t wipe them, can only let them roll down into your temples. but then there’s a hand in yours, and chanel’s comforting touch, her voice soft.

‘it’ll be okay, ava,’ she says.

it won’t be okay, you’re certain of it, because you’d been taken straight from the field to the hospital, and then right into surgery, your kit cut off so that they didn’t move your spine more than you already had. you love football; you love football, the feeling of being so at home in your body, the feeling of going fast and the delight of the burn in your muscles, of not being afraid of anything.

‘i’m really scared.’ you look at chanel, showered and gorgeous, in a team issued bomber that seems impossibly elegant, even now.

‘yeah,’ she grants, swipes her thumb against your cheeks and into your hair, catching your tears. she grabs a tissue and wipes your nose, which, from anyone else, would be absolutely horrifying, but she does it with so little fanfare and you’re in pain and also not pain — the worse option — you can’t even really care. she’s your favorite teammate: kind and brave and funny. she’s your friend. ’you’re gonna get through this, though.’

‘i don’t — i don’t want to.’

you don’t even quite know what you mean, still out of it because of pain meds and anesthesia, but chanel sighs gently.

‘you will. one day, you will.’

you don’t, not for a long time. after your fifth surgery you kind of tell yourself that you’ve definitely given up on football; they move you to a long-term rehab facility specifically for spine injuries, which is better than the hospital for sure, but it’s still hours and hours of physical and occupational therapy that leaves you feeling discouraged more often that not. once the inflammation starts to go down in your spine, you start to, at least, regain some function in your arms and hands, and after your sixth surgery, things are, you’ll admit, more hopeful. at the very least, you’ll be able to do things like use a manual chair and cook and type emails.

you’re not great at texting yet; your occupational therapist is always telling you that if you worked on writing, and holding cutlery, and even more boring, pointless shit like pick up sticks, you’d have an easier time, but, whatever, you can type with the pointer finger of your right hand and it gets the job done. chanel visits as often as she can, most days in the late morning, which feels particularly generous in the off season when she could be being glamorous somewhere else, probably invited to paris fashion week or something. she brings makeup — expensive, beautiful makeup — and doesn’t seem to care when you clumsily fuck up lipstick or poke your eye with a mascara wand. you know she brings it so you actually do your occupational therapy exercises, but she also brings you changes of comfortable clothes and washes your hair gently every few days. she lies back in bed with you, long limbed and beautiful, and watches matches when you don’t feel too sad.

a few days after your eighth surgery, your last, according to your neurosurgeon, you wear a giant back brace over your beatrice xin jersey, your favorite player to watch, and your physical therapy team gets you strapped into this harness that connects to the ceiling so you can try to walk on the treadmill and for sure won’t fall. it kind of feels like you’re doing a stunt or something, and chanel stands there and indulges you with a smile while you make all of your best ‘strapped into a harness’ jokes.

and then — you do walk. it’s slow going, the treadmill barely moving, and your legs feel sluggish and so weak and almost not like your own. it’s been two months since you took a step and it feels like a fucking miracle. chanel wipes a tear or two from her own eyes, even though you can only walk for five minutes and are sweating kind of profusely — it’s a fucking miracle, and she understands it too.

‘what are you frowning at?’

she rolls her eyes and pockets her phone, easily pedaling with insane resistance on the peleton next to you while you struggle to get your legs to listen to your brain and pedal at all. ‘idiot bros on twitter. “trans women don’t belong in women’s sports” and all that bullshit.’

you stop trying to pedal because you’re already entirely unsuccessful today and now you’re not able to focus at all. ‘fuck them.’

she grins. ‘yeah.’

‘i’ll beat them up, just you watch.’

it makes her laugh, and you think she knows you really would physically get into a fight — on or off the field — if anyone ever said anything to her.

‘plus, i can take you 1v1.’

‘in your dreams, silva.’

‘i’m going to, again. don’t even think i won’t.’

chanel pats your hand; you feel it all. ‘i’ve always known you could do it. i’ve never thought you wouldn’t, ava.’

you duck your head, unused to genuine praise after all this time stuck in the same boring, discouraging, painful rooms at the spine center, even though all of your doctors and nurses and therapists had been nice.

‘but,’ she says, ‘first you gotta pedal on this bike.’

‘it’s hard,’ you whine.

‘you’re just distracted.’

you look at the game you’d turned on, beatrice xin currently with two goals and two assists, and sigh. ‘i’m horny.’

it gets the biggest, best laugh out of chanel, and you feel a little something like pride bloom in your chest: you love making people you care about laugh.

‘fine, fine,’ you grumble. you look down at your feet, your quads and calves so small and pale compared to six months ago; you try to breathe through the immediate fear and the tiny bit of shame that pops up. but you focus, feel your feet firmly on the pedals, think about how you know how to ride a bike; you know how to stand up straight and put on pants and kick a ball. the back brace you have on feels tight, feels restricting — but you focus on activating your quads, then your hamstrings, and you eventually get the pedals to move.

‘hell yeah,’ chanel says.

‘if you try to give me a high five right now i think i’ll get all scrambled if i try to move my hand.’

she laughs, reaches over and pats the top of your head instead.

‘ava silva,’ chanel says, and you grin; you can’t help it. she holds her phone at a, thankfully, flattering angle as you walk along the beach — slowly, but steady: you trust you won’t fall, that you’re strong enough and getting stronger. ‘what does freedom feel like?’

chanel has like… three million followers, and she loves social media, something that your old club has always been thrilled about. they hadn’t renewed your contract, but you’d understood; they’re still paying for all of your medical care, so you don’t really feel upset, just a sense of loss you’re not quite ready to name. but chanel loves you, and she’s so, so happy for you — even if you never play again, you’re walking and even starting to run now; you’re in pain but it’s manageable. it’s okay.

‘it feels —‘ euphoric; devastating — ‘like a miracle.’

you flop down on chanel’s neatly made and extravagent bed; you’ve been staying in her guest room — which she had turned into her closet, so it’s still kind of packed with all of her beautiful clothes, although there is a very expensive bed for you — and training until, hopefully, you can get signed somewhere. she doesn’t even look up from her ipad when you sigh. ‘hello, ava.’

‘i have a favor to ask that i actually think you’ll be interested in.’

she pauses whatever she’s doing, then looks up. ‘i’m listening.’

‘well! okay, so. as you know, i’ve basically only worn hospital gowns and sweats for the last year and a half, and before that, i was, like, a child.’

chanel perks up, and you can practically see the wheels in her head turning already.

‘and now, wherever i get signed, you know, people are gonna care, and want interviews and all this stuff. so, in small part, i want to feel good about how i look for this next chapter of football.’

‘i love it,’ she says. ‘and what’s the large part?’

you flop back again, just for the dramatics. ‘i am… so horny. like, you don’t even understand.’

she laughs. ‘JC is nice though, right?’

‘yeah,’ you say, because he is. ‘but, like, girls.’

she pauses for a second, a happy smile on her face. ‘so, you want to look… more… bisexual?’

‘i mean, i do already? because i am? right?’

‘well, of course, ava.’ it’s gentle and reassuring but still a little amused.

‘but — yeah. like, i want to pick stuff i love, my clothes and my hair and whatever, gain back control, blah blah, everything my therapist is always going on about.’

‘your therapist is great, you love her.’

‘sure.’ she is; you do. ‘so anyway, i just — i guess i just want to feel like myself.’

‘now that,’ chanel says, ‘is a favor i love.’

‘you’re sure?’

‘it doesn’t matter if i’m sure,’ chanel says, sitting in the hairdresser’s chair next to yours. you have the salon to yourselves; she’d booked you a private appointment with her hairstylist immediately.

you turn to said stylist, dimitri, with their chic and very neat fade. ‘are you sure?’

‘like chanel said,’ they say. ‘it only matters what you want. we don’t have to do anything big.’

you look in the mirror; you hadn’t had the real opportunity to get a haircut in a long time, being in the hospital and rehab and then spending as much time as you could training after that. you haven’t, really, taken the time to deeply care for yourself, something your therapist has been bothering you about. you want, so badly, to live as big as you can. as much as you can.

‘well, i’m sure, as long as you think it’ll, like, be good for my face shape or whatever.’

chanel and dimitri share a quick glance and then chanel rolls her eyes. ‘ava, you have to know that you’re beautiful, right?’

you pause for what you feel is an appropriate amount of time. ‘yes.’

‘but since you asked,’ dimitri says, ‘i do think this will be great for your face shape.’

‘alright,’ you say, feeling suddenly very excited and a little buoyed. ‘let’s fucking do it, then.’

chanel cheers and dimitri grins; they wash your hair gently, and you feel a little panicked until chanel starts talking about the threesome she had a few nights ago, which is delightful and grounding enough you stay, fairly easily, in the present of this beautiful, outrageously expensive salon, the control you get to have. not that you’re thrilled about your therapist being completely 100% correct, but… she was right.

dimitri dries your hair and then combs it out patiently, divides it and then clips up the top part. ‘ready?’

‘definitely.’

chanel grins and it’s easy, so much easier than you knew it would be, to sit and watch yourself become. you’re filled with a sense of joy, this tiny seed that grows as dimitri cuts your hair to your chin precisely, and asks you about your plans for the day, and food you love, and chanel talks about her latest modeling contract — in addition to football, which amazes you in a way that makes you feel proud in the very center of your chest, this incredible person who showed up and helped take care of you. you feel your shoulders relax; you feel your feet firmly in the new sneakers converse had sent you, comfortable and cool; you even take time to feel your butt in the chair with the knowledge that you don’t need to do any pressure reliefs or weight shifts because, when dimitri is done, you’ll be able to stand up and walk and dance and run and even play football. and even if — even if — one day, you couldn’t, you have your friends and your teammates and your life.

‘you look hot, ava,’ chanel says, very genuinely, after dimitri finishes with a leave in, then shows you how to dry your hair and recommends a light oil.

‘go ahead,’ they say, ‘run your hands through it, all that jazz.’

to touch; to feel. you think you might cry, all of a sudden, with your soft hair that you picked, that you wanted, and chanel takes in your wobbling bottom lip and then tuts and pulls you toward her. because of your height difference, your face is basically smooshed into her chest and, even though you do cry, you laugh too, wet and messy and alive.

‘this probably my favorite place in the world,’ you say.

chanel shoves you playfully and you grin up at her.

‘thank you.’

she waves you off, as she always does when she’s a little overwhelmed too. ‘don’t thank me yet. now we have to go shopping.’

it’s not as bad as you’d feared; despite the fact that chanel only wears the most elegant designer clothes — her closet is full of gucci and bottega and, of course, chanel, and a whole shelf of louboutins — but she also loves you and knows you, deeply, and so when her driver pulls up to a row of a few very cool-looking thrift stores, you have to hug her again. she gives you helpful feedback on pieces and outfits and you feel, quite genuinely, happier than maybe you ever have. you buy crop tops and high waisted, loose jeans and a few sweaters you love; some silly earrings and a necklace and a cap that chanel laughs at, but fondly enough you know it works. you find a men’s button up with a bunch of flames on it and she rolls her eyes but you put it on anyway, knot it at your waist so it feels just above your shorts.

‘do i look bi?’

‘you look a little bit crazy, but i definitely wouldn’t think you’re straight.’

you’re practically shaking with excitement: ‘it’s… flaming. i’m flaming! get it!’

chanel groans. ‘ava,’ she says, but wraps an arm around your shoulders and throws it on the growing pile anyway.

you feel happier than maybe you ever have until the next morning, when you come back from a silly game of football on the beach with her and JC and a few of your other friends, your hair spilling out of the tiny bun you’d managed to get it into, which had made you laugh, and sit down to have some burrata — another one of your favorites that chanel indulges in getting for you from time to time, even did while you were in the hospital and she had to put it on little crackers and feed it to you herself — and then accept a call from your agent. you step inside to take it, close the door softly.

after it’s done, you yank the door open this time, burst onto the patio. all of your nerves are alive; in your shorts, your legs look strong again, tan and muscular and capable.

‘good news?’

you’re almost too excited to explain that you’re getting signed by your favorite club, $6 million for the year, with, if all goes well, an option to extend your contract another season after. a bonus: they just hired dr. jillian salvius, one of the best sports specialists in the world. all of your care will be, of course, included.

chanel starts to cry, which makes you start to cry, and she hugs you to her tightly.

‘i am so happy for you,’ she says. ‘and i’m really gonna miss you.’

‘i’m gonna miss you too,’ you tell her.

she backs up and puts her hands on your shoulders, a smile sneaking up her face. ‘you know, i happen to remember your favorite player in the whole entire world playing at a certain club.’

you hadn’t really thought past football and then six million dollars, but — ‘fuck.’

chanel laughs, face beautiful and delicate and rich in the sun. ‘i can’t wait to show her pictures of you in her jersey.’

‘oh god, are there any on my instagram? i have to go check.’

she just keeps laughing, and it’s all brimming, so wonderful, right at your fingertips.

you sign a few days later, your hands steady.

‘well,’ chanel asks, lounging back in bed on zoom, ‘how was day one?’

‘oh my god.’ your hair is still wet from the shower you took at the training grounds; you had raced back to your new apartment to make sure you were on time for your call. ‘i got there early, to play a little bit, get the nerves out, you know. and guess who was there and wanted to play 1v1?’

she grins. ‘no fucking way.’

‘i got schooled, obviously,’ you say, think of the way beatrice xin had moved with the ball, how surely she went into tackles, how precise she was. ‘i did score twice, though, and nutmegged her once. greatest football moment of my life, i’m pretty sure.’

‘what’s she like?’

you think chanel is probably humoring you, but you don’t care. ‘beatrice is… beautiful.’ it’s really the only word you have: her neat bun that stayed in place perfectly other than a few errant strands by the end of the session today; her clipped, lovely accent; the way her calves had looked while she was sprinting; the delicate lines of her face; her freckles and her eyes; how she had been serious and professional but kind; her strong back, muscles rippling under her skin in a way that made you shiver, in the locker room when she had untucked her quarterzip and pulled it over her head; how she seemed lonely, despite it all. ‘she’s really beautiful.’

it’s a while later when the sheer mortification dawns on you, but then beatrice, in her weird, hot, hilarious way, seems to dissipate the extreme embarrassment you’re going to be faced with by being embarrassing first.

‘hello, chanel.’ she reaches out her hand very seriously, in her favorite linen jumpsuit and a very expensive pair of off-white dunks and black, cat eye sunglasses that are honestly cooler than you expected, in front of her favorite nice brunch place. chanel shoots you a glance and then shakes bea’s hand firmly while you both try not to laugh.

‘hey, it’s great to meet you.’

‘you, as well,’ bea says. ‘i — before we sit, i just wanted to extend my admiration, for the work you have done both on and off the field for trans equity in our sport.’

it’s so serious, and so genuine, chanel seems a little disarmed and a little affected. ‘thank you.’

bea nods once, seriously. ‘and, maybe more importantly, even, my deep gratitude, for caring for ava. she’s spoken so highly of you, and it means — i love her,’ bea decides on, after a pause. ‘i’m glad, immeasurably so, that she has people who love her too.’

chanel suspiciously sniffles. ‘can i give you a hug? is that weird?’

bea smiles, a real smile, your favorite, and opens her arms. you resist the urge, passionately, to make a joke about how the two hottest (sorry, lilith) women you know together is really gonna do it for you during your alone time later, which is honestly a fucking feat.

‘well,’ chanel says, ‘i made a presentation of every embarrassing thing ava has done that you should know about.’

‘oh no.’

bea loops her arm with chanel when she gallantly offers, and bea says, ‘oh yes.’ you trail behind them, feeling short and small and bursting with happiness. chanel orders basically the entire menu for you to try and she and bea laugh at your expense when chanel opens her phone and does, indeed, have an entire canva presentation of you being embarrassing, but you don’t really mind at all. the sun warms your shoulders and you drink champagne that costs way too much money, the bubbles bright on your tongue. chanel laughs and bea puts her hand on your thigh, just like that: you feel it all.

#avatrice fic #avatrice #footy au #wn #warrior nun fic #anyway completely missed opportunity on the show to have chanel be the STAR OF THE SHOW lmfao so here she is in all her glory i love her #i WILL put it up on ao3 just in a hot minute lol

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jtl07 · 11 months ago

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jtl07 fics, 2023 round up(ish)

So I do an admittedly intense EOY reflection / SOY preparation every December but I’ve never really done a review of my writing for the year. Part of it is that, after over a decade of not writing fic, I didn’t start writing fic again until 2021. Crazy enough, my output this year was more than those two years combined (almost twice over!).

Tbh part of me almost felt guilty to realize that. I mean, here I am, recovering from one of the hardest times in my life, writing fic. But then a small part of me whispered, what’s wrong with that? Just because I’m healing doesn’t mean I have to suffer.

So I’m trying to take joy in what I’ve done this year and honestly, I’m proud what I’ve written. I truly cannot pick out a favorite because all of them mean so much to me. As I mentioned in the last fic review, reading and writing fic has played a huge role in how I process things and express myself; to have had this time to relearn how to write (with all its frustration and joy), to discover new things, to explore new characters, to connect with so many folks, it’s meant a lot. It’s helped me move forward, it’s helped me hold on.

So thank you - you, reading this, y’all who’ve read anything I’ve written, who’ve liked and left kudos and comments and messages - thank you, so, so much.

[some stats and random thoughts under the cut]

Because I’m me, I went into nerd-mode and used Flamebyrd’s ao3 bookmarklet to pull my fic stats earlier this month. I drew up some tables and charts and used lots of colors (what’s a spreadsheet without conditional formatting?)

(just one of the many sheets in the workbook I drew up lol)

After looking at different interactions (hits, kudos, comments, percentages of each), I came up roughly with my “top” fics and “bottom” fics (focusing on avatrice fics because that was the bulk of my writing this year).

Top 5:

Customer feedback surveys for Bar La Vasseur

past tense, future perfect

that melts the blood inside our veins

looks for you in everything (finds you there)

propose (now am found)

I’m not surprised by the surveys fic being at the top - I still giggle at that one and it gets kudos pretty regularly. It’s easy to read with a unique premise and I’m generally happy with the execution.

I am surprised, however, that propose shot up so high so quickly - the top three had been published early in the year (Feb-Mar) but propose was posted just last month. I suppose there was something about the premise - a different take on an Avatrice proposal - that must have resonated with folks.

Bottom 5: 18. so different now from what it seemed 19. we both know how this ends 20. the long, delirious, burning blue 21. late night vigil 22. can’t go back

I’m curious about the ranking of some of these fics - for example, that melts the blood inside our veins was my first amnesia fic and is in the top 5, but my second amnesia fic, so different now from what it seemed, is in the bottom 5. Perhaps it’s the difference in premise, perhaps the execution - who knows. (I’m not mad, just “huh.”)

I’m not surprised about the others though: a video game crossover, a military propaganda movie AU, an Avatrice+Cam threesome (fun fact: the doc title was simply “ABC” for a while lol), and a moody “what if” speculation - none of them fit the mold of “popular” lol

Now that I think of it, though, I did try new things with some of these fics: the tone and action of we both know how this ends is one I don’t usually do; I rarely do a retelling of other media (I know the long, delirious, burning blue doesn’t follow the Maverick movie exactly but still), not to mention having that twist at the end; I’m still very much learning how to be comfortable writing intimacy (I still don’t know where late night vigil came from lol); and can’t go back was an exercise that stretched my brain thinking of the different ways Beatrice’s life could have changed.

Slight tangent: I am, however, surprised that pocketful was so low - it’s #17 in the rankings (it’s just shy of 900 hits as of this writing) - only because I thought it got quite the heartwarming response initially. I received some of my favorite comments on that one (though to be clear, I love all the comments I receive! Such gifts, comments) That said, I can acknowledge that the premise does sound a bit odd. I mean, cmon, a fic about pockets? What even?

That said, I can’t promise that my ideas won’t be any less weird next year lol. There are some ideas that I think will carry over but I’m certain there will be plenty of new and unusual ideas that will pop into my head in the year to come.

I also can’t promise that my output will be as high as it was this year, what with some upcoming changes to my life (new job! moving, hopefully relatively soon, to a new state!) and general life-ness. I do intend to keep writing, though, at least that’s the goal.

Anyway, I think I’ll wrap this up here - if you have any questions or comments, feel free to reply here or drop an ask or DM. In any case, thanks again for hanging out with me and I hope your holidays and new year is safe and full of light <3

#jt writes fic #jt's fic recap #words about my words

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pindaleng · 4 years ago

Link

Title: But I Knew You

Pairing: Avatrice

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2270

Summary: College AU. Beatrice is Ava’s favorite person. Ava loves being around her in a way she can’t explain. She wants to do everything with her, from studying to partying to walks outside. Which is completely normal for best friends.

Getting flustered by close contact and fake flirting is also definitely a super normal friendship thing.

Read on AO3 or below.

“I don’t get it.”

Beatrice sighed from her desk. “You don’t have to, it’s organic chemistry.”

“But I feel like I should. Like, this is the structure of living things right? I’m living, so I should understand how it works.”

“You use the internet, but you don’t know how that works.”

“Good point.” Ava shut the thick textbook in front of her. She didn’t really want to learn anyways. “You done yet?”

Beatrice sighed again, turning in her chair to face Ava, who was sitting on her bed. “We’ve only been working half an hour, and I specifically said I was spending the entire day studying. Which you should be doing too, since I know you said you have an exam Monday.”

“Fine Ms. Studious.” Ava made a big show of loudly unzipping her backpack and finally pulling out her laptop and notebooks. “I’ll…study,” she said, punctuating her last word with air quotes.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, definitely looking skeptical, but turned back to her own pile of schoolwork.

Ava opened up her Google doc notes on her laptop, and simultaneously picked up her phone to check Twitter. Beatrice was right to doubt her; she practically never did any work on Saturdays. That’s what Sundays were for.

And yet, every Saturday, she showed up at Beatrice’s room under the guise of studying, just so she could hang out with her favorite person. Beatrice was one of the few people Ava felt comfortable in silence with, maybe due to all the death glares she’s received from Beatrice when she’s being too distracting.

Either way, she found comfort in it, even if they’re just sitting in the same room together, focused on their own activities. Beatrice studying, and Ava scrolling through social media on her phone, occasionally typing a paragraph or two for a paper due the following week.

They’re pretty much polar opposites, and Ava often wondered how they stuck as friends. Probably due to the weird crucible of living on the same freshman year dorm floor. People got to know everyone really quickly, for better or worse.

Luckily, it turned out for the better with everyone Ava met. A few of them with rooms in the north wing bonded fast, and they rented a house together for their sophomore year. She loved them all: Mary, Lilith, Camila, and Beatrice.

But especially Beatrice.

Beatrice was smart, kind, and witty, and honestly the best listener Ava’s ever met. Ava unabashedly talks a lot. Like, a lot. And being like that, people can lose interest as conversation and friendships progress.

But Beatrice still gave Ava her full attention after a year of Ava talking her ear off. Which was still impressive every time.

It’s cool.

It’s cool that she has a solid group of friends when there was no one back home to keep in touch with.

She really loved it here.

There were so many things to do and people to meet, sometimes she still got overwhelmed by it all.

And the best place to get the full experience? College parties.

It was the midst of midterm season, but honestly all the more necessary to have something to blow off stress. And to be real, midterm season lasted from the second month of school to the end of the semester. So, no better time than the present.

After Ava got kicked out of Beatrice’s room for being too distracting, she spent most of that evening helping the rest of her housemates set up their party. Mary was in charge of getting alcohol, having the most connection with older students. Lilith put Ava and Camila in charge of cleaning and setting up, which basically meant that Lilith didn’t trust Ava to actually do the work well. Ava would have been offended if she didn’t enjoy spending time with Camila so much. The girl was a ball of literal sunshine, yet also unexpectedly, full of dirty jokes.

So, setting up the apartment with Camila was a party in itself, full of fun banter and deep life discussions.

Ava just finished putting out the snacks and booze, when the first people arrived. She cracked open a bottle of Fireball, and downed a double shot.

Ava happily shook out her body as the the liquid warmed her up. It was going to be a good night.

———

Ava’s in the middle of laughing at some stranger’s story when she caught sight of a figure coming down the stairs. She grinned.

“Woo! Life of the party’s here!!!” She yelled across the room, startling the people around her, and drawing Beatrice’s attention towards her. If Ava was sober, maybe she would have cared more that Beatrice looked slightly (very) embarrassed, but Ava definitely wasn’t sober. She half skipped and half jogged across the room, undoubtedly spilling her drink on herself and several bystanders.

She hugged Beatrice tightly when she reached her. God it felt nice. Like sinking into a bed of clouds. Or something similarly soft and fluffy and comforting. “I missed you.”

Beatrice laughed softly, close to Ava’s ear. The best sound in the world. “You just saw me a couple of hours ago.”

Ava pulled away and pouted. “Still.”

Beatrice smiled, in a perfect way that made her entire face brighter. Holy hell she was beautiful. “Well, I finished up for the day and I’m here now. Any chance you can show me where the party is?” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness.

Ava looked at her in disbelief. “Wait seriously? You wanna join?”

“I can’t be a dud at a party in my own house, can I?”

Beatrice had definitely sat out on many parties they’ve hosted, but Ava ignored that. For now, she was going to enjoy this win. She led her to the kitchen, where various bottles of alcohol and sodas crowded their dining table. Beatrice shrugged when Ava asked what she wanted, so she just made a vodka cranberry. It was a crowd pleaser drink in her opinion. Plus, some rich kid brought Grey Goose, which was probably double or triple the price of everything else on the table.

Beatrice took a sip. “Not bad.”

“I may not know much,” Ava tapped her index finger a couple times to her temple, “but I do know my liquor.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you also know how to get on my nerves.” Beatrice said teasingly, voice devoid of any malice.

Ava took a overdramatic bow. “Thank you, m’lady.” She refilled her own cup with a mixture of vodka and sprite. “Shall we?” Ava offered her hand to the other girl.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, but put her hand in Ava’s.

Ava led them back to the main room, navigating through groups of bodies to eventually land them at a couch, which was miraculously unclaimed.

From there, Ava launched into basically non-stop talking, wanting to entertain Beatrice in the best way she knew how. She shared stories of all the people she met during the night so far, with Beatrice supplementing the conversation with appropriate reactions and commentary. Ava recounted one guy that recklessly challenged her to shotgunning a beer against him. Spoiler alert, he lost miserably. Ava watched Beatrice’s eyes as much as she could while she was talking, entranced with their intenseness, openness, and expression. Did they always look like that?

The eye contact felt so personal, like it took away everyone else in the room, ignoring the raging party and loud music around them.

And the music was definitely loud, though the song choices were good. Mary knew how to set up a playlist. Ava got banned from music duty when she un-ironically added in Friday by Rebecca Black.

No regrets.

After exhausting all the tales from that night, she moved to discussing and speculating with Beatrice on the backstories of all the partygoers. People watching with Beatrice was always fun. As strait-laced as she appeared, Beatrice was also incredibly creative. Whatever wild stuff Ava theorized, Beatrice could match or do better.

At one point, a couple joined them on the couch, pushing Ava into Beatrice, pressing their sides together. The couch was much too small to comfortably fit 3 people, much less four.

“Shit, sorry.” Ava tried her best to back up and give Beatrice space, but there was nowhere to go.

Beatrice put a hand on her thigh and smiled. “Ava, it’s fine.”

Ava suddenly found it hard to breathe. Probably due to being surrounded by two more people.

“You okay?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah, think I just need to get out here for a bit. Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.”

There was a nice, cool breeze outside, a welcome relief from the humid air inside. It was also much quieter.

Beatrice suggested getting ice cream from Mcdonald’s and Ava emphatically agreed. Beatrice really knew her.

Fifteen minutes later she was contently humming to herself as they walked back to the house. This was the best party ever. She had an ice cream cone in one hand and somehow Beatrice’s hand in the other. A perfect night. Ava’s pretty sure this is the happiest she’s ever been in her entire life.

———

Ava groaned as she slid back into consciousness. She felt grimy, which was not unusual for her after a night of drinking.

She did a quick self inventory to assess the damage.

She was in her own bed, which was good. Boxers? On. Shirt? Also on, but in her sleep shirt instead of the button up she was wearing last night. Interesting. No bra. Also interesting.

She felt around to her right and left. No body in the bed with her. Good to know.

Minimal pounding in her head. She sat up, breathing a sigh of relief that she didn’t feel like throwing up.

She noticed a glass of water and a couple of Advils on her nightstand. Definitely Beatrice. No one else would be nice enough. Okay maybe Camila, but she still had bets on Beatrice.

She quickly washed down the pills with water and slipped on shorts and a pullover before making her way downstairs to the kitchen.

Mary was sitting at the table eating, and Beatrice at the stove pouring batter into a pan.

“Pancakes, oh my god. Bea you’re the best.” Ava gave Beatrice a tight hug and overdramatic sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Beatrice playfully pushed Ava away and made a show of wiping the kiss off her face. “Yeah yeah I know, now eat it while it’s still hot.”

Ava saluted. “Got it chef.”

“Dork.”

“You love it.”

“No comment.”

Ava’s in the middle of inhaling her fifth pancake when Mary said something. Beatrice left the room about a pancake ago, so it could only have been directed at Ava.

“What?” Ava momentarily stopped chewing.

Mary got up and started rinsing her dishes in the sink. “I said, you should really tell her how you feel.”

Ava knitted her eyebrows together. “About what?”

Mary stared at her for a while, long enough to make Ava to feel uncomfortable. Her mouth was still full, and Mary has perfected the gaze that made her feel like a kid in trouble.

“Never mind,” she said, as she put her dishes in the dishwasher.

“About what??” She repeated. Mary ignored her and walked out the kitchen. Ava swallowed the rest of the food in her mouth. “Asshole!” Ava yelled after her, eliciting a middle finger response.

Beatrice appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just Mary being cryptic and messing with me.”

“Sounds about right.”

Beatrice sat down at the table. “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly… not bad. Seriously thank you for the food and Advils,” Ava remembered her state of dress when she woke up. “And…probably also for helping me out of my clothes.”

“Oh um, right, it was nothing. Didn’t want you sleeping in an uncomfortable, sweaty shirt.” Ava noticed Beatrice’s cheeks turn a little pink. Shit, she didn’t mean to embarrass her. She could fix this.

“Did you see something you like?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood, but it only made Beatrice blush harder. Oh my god Ava you’re so bad at this. She felt herself digging herself into a hole. Of course fake flirting with her is going to make it worse.

Ava was about to say something (probably dumb) to attempt again to save the situation, before Beatrice spoke.

“How could I not? You’re beautiful.”

For once, Ava was speechless. The incredibly reverent but casual way Beatrice said it completely took her breath away. There was something magical about how soft Beatrice’s eyes were, and how vulnerable it felt. Half of Ava felt calmed, while the other half of her was a raging mess. Ava felt the need to do something. She wasn’t sure what, but she needed to do something. She started racking her garbled brain for any ideas.

Beatrice’s smile slowly slid into a smirk, “Got you.”

The spell of the moment was broken. Ava laughed to dust off any lingering weird feelings. “Wow, got a taste of my own medicine. I’m impressed.”

“I had a good teacher. You should have seen your face.” Beatrice mimicked a “deer in the headlights” look for a brief moment before grinning again. She got up from the table. “Now hurry up and finish your food so we can get to the library. I’m not going to let you forget about studying for your midterm tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“Cool.” Beatrice slapped Ava’s arm playfully before leaving the room.

Ava watched her go, wondering what in the living hell just happened. Fuck. Was she about to kiss her best friend?

#avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #warrior nun #college au #fic #fanfic #mine

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