#fic: like the Princess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

Text

I CAN'T CLOSE MY EYES ALONE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep.

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there.

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek.

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue.

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub.

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow.

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting.

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes.

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic.

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him.

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn.

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it.

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow.

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid.

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do.

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help.

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression.

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two.

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless.

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly.

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue.

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress.

and satoru stifles a coo.

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu.

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology.

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him.

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

#im not arguing w satoru gojo lol . whatever u say princess ! <3 #this is an old piece that i polished a lil (lot) phshdh so the writing might not b anything special but !! i kinda like this toru .#just sleep-deprived n grumpy <33 #gojo has this duality where he can be silly n goofy but then also serious when he needs to be… n kinda gruff….#but then he also has this. Sincere Tenderness to him. that i think would bleed through w someone he loves #hhhhh i love this man w all my heart T_T #usually i make all my fics gn but. smth abt satoru gojo …. callling u his pretty girl………… yeah. sorry. for being this way #me personally i would fold immediately but i respect reader for trying #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you

1K notes · View notes

baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

Text

Astarion Very Happy Ending

So full disclosure, my Tav was a Selunite, and I can't stop thinking well if Bhaal can have a mortal chosen one, why can't Selune?

Also, spoiler warning, stop reading here if you don't want, but like damn girl I freaking turn a Shar priestess away from her god back to you, free a man from his devil's contact, high-key save the world, kill bhaals chocen, convince my vampiric lover to not sacrifice thousands of people, stop an entire goblin army from murdering Tieflings and druids alike, and literally free your daughter. A reward is in order!

This is that reward:

Astarion was slowly getting used to living in the shadows again, as loathe as he was to admit it. It was quite the transition, despite the fact that his time in the sun had amounted to less than a year. But what a lovely year it was. Nearly a perfect one in comparison to the rest of his life. And the promise of more of the same was a suitable balm to being cursed back into the darkness.

It was difficult, but with the love of his life by his side it was more than tolerable. Borderline beautiful in fact, to be able to live his life so freely despite the infuriating complications.

The money also certainly helped.

That was one thing Astarion always had over his brothers and sisters, his fantasies of a better life had always surrounded around Cazador's murder. Not his approval. He may have been completely unaware of the horrifying dungeon beneath their feet, but he did know where the deed to his estate and other properties were kept. And now had enough connections with the higher up's of Baldur's gate for some frankly exquisite forgeries. It had been a particularly satisfying feeling to sell all of his former master's possessions off, even more so when it came to the land. Almost like he was tearing apart his legacy and handing it off to the highest bitter, piece by piece.

Though, being there with you to find and settle in your own little corner of paradise was an even better feeling. Maybe it didn't quite reach his past dreams of grandeur, but it turned out settling in a quaint and poorly lit townhouse in the upper city was more than enough for him to be satisfied.

It was a good charming life, one that Astarion was sure he didn't deserve. But that certainly wasn't going to stop him from enjoying it. Though as much as he adored where he ended up, he'd be lying if he said it was perfect.

No, perfect would have been finding a way for him to ascend without becoming a monster, living in a world where he could be with you fully, completely, out in the sun like the kind of lover you deserved. It made him feel... startlingly inadequate. Everything you did had to be in accordance to his schedule. His lack of capabilities. And just because you always insisted it didn't matter didn't fix the feeling of inadequacy. He hated it, hated the fact that there were so many hours of the day that you couldn't share. He didn't regret his choice, not for a moment, but that didn't mean he was fully satisfied with the consequences.

But in his own defense, he did make up for it in other ways. Mildly frustrating and draining ways, if not a bit rewarding. It had been his own fault, falling so utterly and completely for such a goody two-shoes. A zealot to Selune, as fierce as she was compassionate, always trying to do what was fair and just. Always dragging Astarion on for the ride of her cleric duties.

But he couldn't blame you for all of his new do-gooder ways. Not when he was nearly the leader of a bizarre cult of repentant vampire spawn.

It was just the slightest bit exhausting to so often be playing the part of their heroic leader, fighting all of his murderous instincts to work for a better future for himself and the brethren he had personally damned. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get any satisfaction from it. It felt... good to teach them new ways to live. To give them the chance at the beautiful life he had managed to secure for himself.

He wouldn't do it forever, just until he was confident enough to be sure that his departure wouldn't lead to a massacre on either side. Then the two of you would be off to explore the lands, working to do your goddesses work with just a touch of hedonistic activities on the way.

Astarion was looking forward to it. He hadn't done all that work to be selfless forever. No, he was going to be forced to insist on a few years of having you all to himself, with only the occasional bits of volunteer work for the temple as interruption. Then the two of you could go back to galivanting about the lands being local heroes. But he had earned an extended vacation.

One that, luckily, he hadn't had to fight you on too much. That was just one other thing he loved about you, your complete understanding that Astarion would always be a little selfish, especially when it came to you. The one person who had ever really been his, who loved him, who understood him, who believed in him. Could he be blamed for wanting to have you all to himself?

And admittedly, he did have you more often then not. Even if on occasion he did have to share with your beloved goddess.

Astarion sighed as he watched you pray in the moonlight, completely absorbed in your quiet, mystical chants. Despite his distaste for the length of your prayer sessions, Astarion did like seeing your more ritualistic side. Just... maybe not for the morally correct reasons.

He was well aware that being so involved with a vampire was clearly against your religious doctrine. But it didn't matter. You still choose him, despite how the knowledge nearly made you an outcast amongst your own kind. But he mattered more than your reputation, more than the lessons you had been taught your entire life regarding love and evil.

You still had your faith, but you never let it shake the faith you had in him, something that he valued more than he could ever express. It was perhaps a sick thought, but it also made him feel exceedingly powerful, to know the true extent of your feelings. Even more connected. It was almost... like he was defiling you, corrupting a beautiful flower to turn away from the sun to something even brighter. A love that Astarion doubted most could ever hope to feel.

Perhaps that was not the best outlook on your religion, but oh well. He'd keep those thoughts to himself. What you didn't know wouldn't kill you. Besides... if anyone had been corrupted it was him, plagued with a new sense of loyalty and gods, justice. All from the beautifully strange woman kneeling in the moonlight.

Though, you sure were taking awhile tonight. Nearly twice as long as your usual nightly prayer. He hated to interrupt your worship but this was starting to cut into his time a bit here.

"My dear," Astarion called out, swinging his legs over your shared bed to stand, "Don't you think that you've been kneeling there for a touch too long?"

But you didn't respond, still muttering under your breath, even faster than before.

Astarion narrowed his eyes as he walked closer towards you, confused by your lack of response, "Darling-Tav?"

Astarion stopped, eyes wide as he got a solid look at your first. Your eyes were wide open, body rim rod straight as your irises glowed a vibrant blue light.

What in the nine hells was happening? Astarion kneeled next to you, his heart in his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Tav, love, can you hear me? What is this?"

You didn't answer, you didn't even acknowledge his presence. But you did start floating in the god damn air. Astarion stared, helpless as he watched you levitate, words that he didn't understand spilling from your lips.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You fell unceremoniously to the floor. Astarion scrambled towards you, his heart in his throat as you started to come to. He settled your head in his lap, his hands shaking as he touched your face, lost on what he should be doing.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, that angelic glow still radiating from your irises. But you didn't look frightened, more... excited.

You grinned up at him, your voice slightly cracking when you murmured, "We've been blessed."

Astarion stared at you, brow furrowed. He was happy you were alive and speaking but...

"That's lovely?" Astarion tried, "But severely lacking in terms of an explanation. Are you okay?"

You nodded eagerly, suddenly sitting up with an unexpected amount of energy, "I'll explain later, we don't have much time."

What was it that compelled you religious types to be so cryptic? But you didn't give him anytime to question. Instead you wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips together, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

He wrapped strong arms around your back, pulling you in closer, always helpless but to return your affection. But something about this was different. He could feel it, holy magic spreading through him through your lips, down throughout his veins, changing something inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant per say, but it certainly was startling. Startling enough for him to almost push you away, if it wasn't for the fact that he trusted you with everything inside of himself.

Neither of you pulled away until the blue fire in your eyes had died out, and Astarion was left with the intense sensation that something had changed, irrevocably inside of him.

You stared at each other, Astarion in confusion while you looked nothing short of gleeful, "Do you feel it?"

He felt... strange. A warmth still spreading through him that was settling. Astarion raised a brow at you, exceedingly impatient when he asked, "First, how about you explain to me what in the hells that was?"

But you didn't answer. Instead you stood with an adorable hop, lending a hand out to help him up, "Do you trust me?"

Astarion almost rolled his eyes as he took your hand, annoyed that he fell for someone that had just as much of a flair for the dramatic as he did, "You know I do."

You helped him to his feet before you started to mumble again, a startlingly familiar incantation seeping from your lips. It was the spell for daylight, the very same that you had used to help defeat Cazador. The kind that could now kill Astarion in mere moments.

He was too shocked at your audacity to even protest, believing for a split, terrifying second that he was about to die a fiery death. Sunlight suddenly filled the room, bright enough for Astarion to tightly shut his eyes.

Then...nothing. No burning, no pain, nothing but the sounds of you both breathing.

That didn't-how was he-what did you just do?

Astarion stared at you, absolutely flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open, staring at the borrowed daylight like a simpleton, "But how?"

You were still grinning ear to ear, looking happier than Astarion had ever seen you before. You grasped his hands in yours, your smile gentle as you explained, "I told you. We were blessed. Our Lady of Silver gave me one gift, and this is what I choose."

If sunlight wasn't already staring him in the face, Astarion would never believe it. But here he was, alive and standing under it's warmth. A gift from a goddess, spent on him of all creatures.

"It can't fix everything," You clarified with the slightest frown, "But it can fix this."

He could feel the truth in your words. He was still... wrong. A creature born of something awful, doomed to eternity and a life of bloodlust. But part of that wrongness had been culled, curling up and dying from Selune's holy magic, from your enduring love.

It was a dream he never thought possible. One that he had accepted never having. But here he was, here you were, continuing to give him the impossible.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Astarion reached up, cupping your face before confessing the truth he couldn't quell.

"I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice hoarse, "I'll never deserve you. Words can't express my thanks. You have given me everything, while I have nothing but myself to give in return. But it's always yours. Everything inside of me."

He meant every word, he always would. Until his last breath.

You shook your head, gentling cooing at him, "This is a time for celebration my love, not for doubt. You've earned this."

He hadn't. And he doubted you'd ever be able to convince him he had. But he'd still take it. Gladly.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, helpless to say anything else. He pressed his lips against yours, the gravity of his new life just starting to settle in his mind.

He was free, as free as he could ever hope for. You had achieved what Cazador could not, all without a hint of malice or horrifying sacrifice. But through kindness, love, and perseverance. You had already freed him once from his own mental shackles, his last remaining ties to the tyrant that made him.

And now you've done it again, saving him from at least a portion of the taint on his soul.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and Astarion would never waste a moment of it.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #spoilers #and that's how selune got herself a cult of 7000 vampiric spawn hoping for the same blessing #this is very fairytale romance #like mr. i'm not a fairytale prince is kind of acting like it here #or is he the saved princess?#up for debate #romance #very romantic #i think #fluff #very fluffy

1K notes · View notes

bruisedboys · 2 years ago

Note

can I request eddie and shy!reader with reader’s first kiss?! I imagine he’d be so gentle with her!

I want him to be my first kiss so bad!! waiting for him to be real so he can kiss me tbh

summary: eddie gives shy!you your first kiss

shy!fem!reader 0.9k words

Eddie thinks you look really pretty.

He’d tell you so but he’s already told you twice tonight, and he’s pretty sure if he says it again you’ll burst into flames on the spot. You’re quite shy — it’s endearing and very adorable but it also means Eddie has to be more careful of what he says and does. He wouldn’t want to scare you off.

He watches you pore over a book, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He badly wants to tell you how lovely you look. In a t-shirt that’s too big for you and a pair of sweatpants. Your hair all messy pretty and tucked behind your ears. He holds his tongue, turning back to the old band tee he’s hacking the sleeves off on his bedroom floor.

“Eddie?”

Your voice breaks the comfortable silence you and Eddie had been sitting in. Eddie puts down his scissors and looks up. He likes the way you’ve said his name, like he’s the only person ever. He’s sure he sounds similar when he says your name. He smiles at you.

“Yeah?”

You shuffle forwards on his bed, sliding to the edge until your legs dangle off. Eddie’s struck, yet again, by how beautiful you are. It takes all the breath out of his chest.

“Um.” You pause then, and get this nervous look on your face. Eddie knows it well. You’re often nervous around him.

He sits up straighter. By the looks of it you’re wanting to tell him something. Or ask him something. “Yeah, honey?”

Your eyes flick to Eddie and then back to your hands where they’re twisted in your lap. Eddie sees the tap tap tap of your foot, the wringing of your hands. He shuffles forward on the floor and gets a hand on your knee, fingers curling around the bottom of your thigh.

“What is it?” He asks softly.

When you answer your staring at your lap, determined to avoid Eddie’s eyes.

“Well … I just. I was reading that part in The Princess Bride, the bit about the five kisses? And I just wondering …” You reach up and scrub the back of your neck awkwardly. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Eddie balks. He was not expecting that. It’s a big question — for you to ask and for Eddie to answer. He has his own reasons. The biggest one being he’s afraid to scare you off, to mess up maybe the best thing in his life right now. Not only that, but he knows how tentative you are about relationship stuff. It’s all new to you.

The silence stretches too long. Eddie rushes to break it before you think he’s gone and backed out on you.

“Oh.” He says, more flustered than he’s ever been with you. Normally you’re the flustered one. He’s realising now how hard it is being on the receiving end. “Well, um. I … I guess—“

“Do you not want to?” You ask quietly, interrupting Eddie’s rambling.

Eddie stops short. “What?” He stares up at you. He can hardly believe you think that. Of course he wants to kiss you — he’d kind of thought you wouldn’t want him to. “No. No, sweetheart, that’s not it. I just. Well, I just wanted to wait until you were ready … “ He pauses, catches the look on your face, like you’re waiting for something to happen. “Are you ready?”

You bite your lip. Not for the first time, Eddie wonders what it would be like to kiss your lips. You nod very slowly.

“I think so,” you say. You’re staring at his mouth now.

Eddie nods so quick he almost snaps his neck. He hardly cares.

“Okay,” he says earnestly. He scrambles to his feet and then moves to stand in front of you, your knees pressing into his legs.

You blink up at him. Eddie can’t resist taking your face in his hands. Your skin is hot to touch. He imagines his face would feel the same.

“You’re really pretty,” he says despite himself. Even though he’d promised not to tell you again until at least tomorrow.

“Eddie,” you chide softly.

Eddie just grins. “Are you sure you want to?” He asks you, struggling to hear himself over the thump of his heart in his ears. He very much wants to give you a Princess Bride worthy kiss right now.

You nod around his hands. “I’m sure,” you say.

Eddie leans in then. His hands on your face, pulling you gently towards him. His eyelids fluttering shut. It feels different but it feels right. He’s about half a second away from kissing you when you say,

“Wait.”

Eddie opens his eyes. You’re so close he could count your eyelashes.

“What?” He whispers back.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you say. Your breath fans over Eddie’s mouth, your lips ghosting over his. It takes all his might not to kiss you right then and there. “I don’t know how,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” Eddie tells you. It is okay. And he’s maybe a lot more honoured than he should be that he’s gonna be your first kiss. “You’ll learn.”

“You’ll teach me?”

Eddie looks at you and thinks yeah, he’ll teach you. He’ll do literally anything you could ever ask of him. “Of course, angel.”

“Okay,” you say. You smile and Eddie thinks if he doesn’t kiss you now he might pass out.

He kisses you. He doesn’t pass out but he comes pretty close.

3K notes · View notes

call-me-maggie13 · 1 year ago

Text

It’s a Tuesday when Lucia calls the first time. Beatrice is leaving her apartment for a run when her phone rings, interrupting her favorite part of the song she’s listening to on her headphones. There’s no caller ID, but Beatrice recognizes the number, so she answers.

"Hello, this is Beatrice." She’s formal. Lucia likes to try to blur the line between a professional relationship and a friendly one.

"Hey, Bea - "

"Beatrice." She corrects, dropping to her knee to retie her laces.

"Yeah, Beatrice." Lucia’s mocking her, Beatrice isn’t stupid, but she lets it go.

"Is there a reason you’re calling?" Beatrice asks after Lucia goes silent.

"Right! Yes! Carlos misses you, I was wondering if we could do lunch sometime this week so he could see you?" Carlos. Beatrice loves Carlos. He’s fun, witty and charismatic and kind. He’s always been one of her favorite kids she’s worked with. Lucia, however, is one of Beatrice’s least preferred parents.

"I don’t know if you remember, but I’m in - "

"In the city. Yes, I remember. Carlos and I just moved here too! Isn’t that exciting?" No. Beatrice thinks. Exciting is not a word I would use. Lucia drops her voice, nearly to a whisper. "He’s having a hard time making friends at his new school, I think seeing a friendly face would make him feel better about the move."

Beatrice sighs, checks the time on her watch and realizes she’s spent half of her allotted running time on the phone with Lucia.

"I can’t do lunch, but I can do an early dinner. Maybe Thursday? I’ll have to - "

"Yes, perfect! That works!" She hangs up before Beatrice can tell her she will be bringing Diana. She could send her a message, but that would mean Lucia would message her back and Beatrice doesn’t want to speak to her anymore than necessary.

Beatrice tells Ava about it that evening, between Diana’s snack and her bath while Ava’s scrambling about looking for the keys Diana hid.

"Who is this again?" Ava looks up from digging through the couch cushions, cheeks flushed and hair tousled.

"It’s a kid I used to work with before I started uni. Him and his mum." Diana giggles around her fingers when Ava looks under the couch, Beatrice bouncing her and asking where the keys are quietly. Ava’s asked her three times, Diana isn’t answering either of them. "It’s okay if you don’t want - "

"No, it’s fine! It sounds fun, just - make her eat something other than chicken strips, please? You always say you will then you cave when she pouts. She needs to try new foods." Ava looks under the coffee table and through Diana’s toy bin. She’s going to be late if she doesn’t find the keys soon.

"Okay. I won’t have her out late, we’ll be back before the sun goes down. Won’t we?" Beatrice tickles Diana who squeals and pushes away, nearly toppling out of her arms. Beatrice grabs her leg to keep from falling and her shoe falls off, jingling when it hits the ground. Diana glances between the fallen shoe and Ava for a moment before she starts giggling maniacally.

"They were in your shoes? Are you serious? Diana, you little…" Ava picks the keys out of the baby shoe, holds Diana’s face between her hands and sighs fondly, shaking her head. "You little punk." Ava laughs and kisses both of her cheeks. "I love you. Be good, yeah?"

Diana smiles and wipes her wet hand down Ava’s cheek. Ava grimaces and rubs her cheek against Diana’s sleeve, earning a full body laugh and a gleeful wiggle. Ava presses a soft kiss against Beatrice’s cheek before she’s gone.

Beatrice almost considers going after her, almost considers asking her to say no, almost considers telling her she doesn’t want to go. But she doesn’t.

She doesn’t.

Read more below the break or here!

Beatrice stops for the third time. Considers turning back. It’s not too late, she can still say she can’t make it. Diana bounces beside her, swings their intwined hands back and forth. She spins, twists Beatrice’s fingers over her head before dropping it and racing around her.

"Let’s go! Let’s goooooo!" Diana whines, taking her hands and tugging her forward. "I wan’ nuggies!"

"It’s want, baby. Try again." Diana pauses to pout, tucks her hands under her elbows and sticks her bottom lip out. Beatrice quirks her eyebrow and fights back a smile. "Try again."

"I. Want. Nuggies." She pauses between each word to huff, spins on her heel to take two steps forward then turn back to Beatrice with her head cocked.

"Okay. But I will have you know, your mama wants you to try something else." They resume towards the restaurant hand in hand, Beatrice’s blunder already forgiven and forgotten. "Like maybe something not chicken?"

"No. I like nuggies." Diana pouts again, gives her tiny chin a tremble to prove her point.

"If you try something else, we can get ice cream on the way home?" Ava would never barter with Diana like this and she would be upset if she knew Beatrice was doing it.

"Sprinkles?" She comes to a complete stop, nearly causing the people behind them to crash into her. Beatrice nods and scoops her up, apologizes quickly to the strangers and hurries down the sidewalk.

It really is unfair, how late they are because she couldn’t decide if she actually wanted to come. Carlos probably thinks they’re not going to show up, the thought stabs her in the chest and speeds her steps.

"Beatrice!" The boy bolts down the sidewalk and crashes into her legs, nearly tackling her to the ground. Beatrice chuckles and ruffles the boy’s unruly curls.

"Hi, Carlos! How have you been?" The boy steps back and flips her hair out of his face, grinning at her with a gap in his teeth. "Oh! When did you lose that tooth?"

"Last night! The tooth fairy gave me fifteen bucks! Look!" He presses up onto his toes and pokes the empty space with his tongue. Beatrice peers into his mouth intently, inspecting it with the same fervency with which he presents it. "Who’s this?"

"This is Diana! Diana, can I introduce you to my friend Carlos?" Diana shakes her head and buries her face in Beatrice’s shoulder. "That’s okay, you don’t have to talk to him until you’re ready."

"Beatrice, hello!" Lucia steps up behind Carlos, strokes Beatrice’s shoulder, her hand lingers. Beatrice shrugs it off awkwardly.

"Hello, Lucia." Beatrice takes a half step back and a deep breath, forcing a smile and turning back to Carlos. "So, I’m hungry, are you?"

"Yeah, we already have a table, right, mom?" Lucia confirms and leads them to the booth while Carlos launches into a story about his friend’s birthday party. "So then, I told Marley, dude, you can’t just say stuff like that. People are going to think you’re weird. But like. People already think Marley’s weird because she tells everyone she was named after a dog. But it’s okay that she’s weird because it like. It’s not weird when she does it. You know?"

"I do! I know someone like that." Beatrice smiles fondly as she thinks of the last time she’d been to the farmers market and Ava spent twenty minutes deciding which lemon looked the sourest. "Have you ever read Stargirl?"

"Yeah! Marley is just like Stargirl! It’s her favorite book!" Carlos bounces in his seat. Lucia places a hand on his knee to still him.

"Sorry, he’s got a little crush." Lucia winks and Beatrice has to bite her lip not to snap at her. He’s eight. He’s allowed to have friends of the opposite gender. Carlos deflates at her words, sinks into his seat and drops his hands into his lap.

"It sounds like you found a really cool friend. Is Marley a friend from school?" Carlos nods weakly but doesn’t look up from his hands, Beatrice frowns. Diana stops scribbling on her menu to look at him quizzically, dropping her crayon to turn to Beatrice with her head tilted. "Have you decided what you want?"

"Nuggies," Diana whispers and Beatrice grins bemused, Diana rolls her eyes and sighs, pushes the menu to Beatrice and climbs into her lap. "Read, please?"

Beatrice reads the children’s menu to her quietly, answers her questions when asked and offers suggestions when Diana struggles to decide. She settles on macaroni and cheese, with much exasperation and disgust. Beatrice gives their orders to the waiter when he checks on them.

Lucia keeps rubbing her foot up the inside of Beatrice’s leg, somehow finding it even when she moves. Beatrice scoots to the far edge of the booth and silently begs her to stop. Diana seems unamused at every attempt Lucia makes to initiate a conversation and Carlos doesn’t recover from his mother’s comment, it’s truly awkward and uncomfortable and Beatrice can barely contain herself when they get their checks.

"Why don’t we go to the park?" Lucia suggests as they step out of the restaurant, Carlos’s face lights up as he waits excitedly for Beatrice’s reaction.

"Umm… I don’t know, Diana seems pretty tired, maybe some other time?" Beatrice bounces Diana in her arms, presses a soft kiss against her temple.

"Dada?" Diana whispers and curls into her neck. Beatrice hums and presses their foreheads together. "He sad?" Beatrice nods softly and Diana turns back to him. "We play a little. Okay?"

Carlos bounces and nods, taking the hand Diana offers him.

"Dada?" Lucia asks, bumping their shoulders together. Beatrice takes a step to the side.

"Uh, yeah. I actually don’t like when people touch me, Lucia. So, could you stop, please?" Beatrice’s cheeks burn as she says it and Diana presses a cold hand over the heat.

"Ah, but I’m not just people, yeah?" Beatrice barely dodges the arm Lucia tries to swing over her shoulder by leaning to set Diana on the ground. Diana takes her hand and tugs her forward, Beatrice welcomes the distraction and follows her happily to the swing set, offering to push her when she climbs into the seat.

"I can do it!" Carlos volunteers and Diana beams at him, squeezing her fists around the chain and laughing when he pushes her forward. He bounces in place at the response, and Beatrice has to bite her tongue every time he asks Diana. "Higher? Higher?"

She knows her limits. Beatrice tells herself. She knows when she wants to stop.

She stays nearby, just in case. Ready to pounce in and save her if she asks to stop and Carlos doesn’t. She’s chewing on her nail when Lucia sidles up beside her, expensive perfume making the inside of Beatrice’s nose itch. Lucia tries to pull her hand out of her mouth but Beatrice steps away, curls her hands under her elbows and tucks them into her side.

"So how long have you been working with her?" There’s a hint of something else just beneath her words, something burbling and churning and dark.

"Oh, I don’t." It’s true, in a sense. Beatrice has stopped accepting Ava’s money in exchange for her babysitting services. So Beatrice isn’t quite lying when she says it. It’s not the entire truth but she hopes it’s vague enough that Lucia doesn’t press.

Of course, she could be granted no respite because Lucia charges ahead full-steam.

"Oh, so is she like your niece? Friend’s kid? Who is she?" She’s fishing, trying to find the answer to a question Beatrice isn’t ready to face on her own, certainly not with someone the likes of Lucia.

"Mine. Yeah, she’s mine." Diana tumbles out of the swing and Beatrice’s heart stops in her chest. She waits two heartbeats before moving, slowly helping Diana brush he wood chips from her face. She forces her voice to remain calm and level so Diana doesn’t hear how much it scared her as well. "Are you okay?"

Diana bursts into tears, throws herself face first into Beatrice’s chest and squeezes her arms around her neck as her body is wracked with sobs.

"Oh, baby! I know." Beatrice rubs her back and picks her up, smiling sadly at Carlos when he tries to apologize. "It’s alright, buddy, she’s just scared. I’ll see you again soon, yeah?"

The boy nods enthusiastically and Beatrice feels Diana lift her head to wave goodbye to him sadly before she returns to her hiding spot in Beatrice’s neck. Beatrice squeezes her tightly, rubbing her back as they depart, stepping quickly across the street and pausing outside the nearest ice cream shop.

"Do you still want ice cream, my love?" Beatrice’s hand pauses on the door, waiting until Diana shakes her head and burrows herself deeper into Beatrice’s embrace. "Can I check to make sure you’re not hurt?"

Diana sniffles as she pulls away, allows Beatrice to seat them on a nearby bench and check her face and hands for injury. She finds none, despite the overall redness from her fall.

"Does anywhere hurt, baby?" Diana shakes her head and blinks tears out of her eyes. "Hey, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. What happened was scary, it’s okay if you feel like you need to cry. Would it make you feel better if I told you it scared me too?"

"You scared?" Diana’s voice is painfully infantile, reverting to a similar pattern of speech from when she first started speaking. Beatrice kisses her forehead and nods.

"Yeah, kiddo. I thought you were really hurt and that really scared me." Diana tucks her thumb into her mouth and blinks at her slowly. "I get scared a lot, you know?"

"Whens?" Diana curls back into her chest and Beatrice hums in thought for a moment.

"Like when your mama got sick. When you run off and I can’t see you. When I have exams at school. Sometimes I get scared when it storms and the thunder makes the windows rattle. I get scared all the time, my darling." Beatrice hates being scared, she feels like it makes her stupid and irrational. She knows that fear is a valid emotion and it exists for a reason, but she has never quite managed to shake her parents’ voices from her head when she’s scared.

She hopes Diana never has to experience that.

She’ll do her best to ensure Diana never has to experience it.

"Do you know what helps me when I get scared?" Diana nods against her chest, curling her fingers around the neck of Beatrice’s shirt. "Sometimes I count all the pretty things I can see. Sometimes I sing a song until I feel better. Or sometimes I take some deep breaths. Do you want to try one of those?"

"Count?" Beatrice hums, squints and looks around.

"The sky is very blue today. What about you?"

"Flowers." Diana points to the wildflowers clawing out of the cracks in the sidewalk, then to a pair of birds chasing each other through the air. "Birb."

"You," Beatrice nudges her softly, smiles gently when she lifts her head tearily, "You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen."

"I love you." She stumbles over the v sound, pronounces the word like lub with a tender smile

"I love you too, meu patinho." Beatrice kisses the top of her head. "Did you at least have fun today?"

"Carlos is funny."

"He is. Would you like to see him again?" Diana hums and mumbles into Beatrice’s neck. "I didn’t understand that, darling, could you say it again?"

"Yeah. We go home now?"

"Alright, we can go home now. Are we going to tell your mama about how much fun you had with your new friend?" Diana yawns and shakes her head, Beatrice watches the sun dye the clouds pink and purple. It’s still early for Diana to go to bed, but she’s had an eventful evening so Beatrice could make an exception to their schedule. "Can we at least tell her about your not chicken nugget dinner?"

Diana giggles but nods regardless, twists a lock of Beatrice’s hair through her fingers. Beatrice’s heart swells and her skin warms and she feels like her heart might explode when she looks at the little girl in her arms. Something inside her twinkles. She never expected a love like this. Something that plays her heartstrings like a symphony in her chest, fills her chest with a light no star could ever compete with. It’s endless, she realizes.

It makes her wonder if her parents ever looked at her the same way she looks at Diana.

~*~

Ava does not like Lucia.

She’s not jealous. That would be absurd.

But she can’t deny that her chest burns when she comes home and Diana regales her in their latest adventure with Carlos and Luisa — it doesn’t matter how many times Beatrice corrects Diana, she only refers to Lucia by the wrong name.

Today, they played tag with a group of kids at the park. Two days ago, they saw a movie. Last week, they went to an art class at the library.

Ava doesn’t have a reason not to like Lucia.

Except for every reason Beatrice gives her after every play date.

"So then she kept trying to take my hand, like we’re a couple or something and every time I would pull my hand away and tell her I wasn’t interested but she doesn’t care." Beatrice sighs and kicks her feet over the arm of the couch, stares up at Ava from her lap. "I don’t understand why she keeps trying to touch me. I don’t like when people touch me. I’ve told her I don’t like being touched at least two million times. It’s annoying."

The hand scraping through Beatrice’s hair pauses at her words, Ava barely pulling away before Beatrice whines and drags her hand back to her scalp.

"Why’d you stop?" She doesn’t give Ava a chance to answer, instead continuing her rant. "Regardless, she made a joke about me confusing Diana by allowing her to call me dad. Which is hilarious because last week, she tried to get Carlos to call me dad and I had to respond with my name’s Beatrice, pal, I’m not your dad. Then Lucia was all well, you’re not Diana’s dad either. And I swear, Ava. I swear I almost hit her. Who does she think she is? I mean, seriously."

Ava is certainly not going to ask the difference between her and Lucia, doesn’t ask why she’s allowed to play with her hair nor why Diana is allowed to call Beatrice dad while Carlos is not. She knows, on some level. Ava’s not stupid, she knows she gets a version of Beatrice Lucia will never see. She knows there’s a piece of Beatrice that is reserved exclusively for her. She knows Beatrice would choose her, if she forced an ultimatum between her and Lucia.

Ava knows.

She knows how she feels about Lucia is irrational and unfair.

She also knows Beatrice would never see Lucia again if she asked.

She knows. Right?

"Bea?" Beatrice stops her rant and tilts her head up. "Does it bother you when I do those things?"

"No. Of course not. Why would it?" Beatrice pushes herself upright, shifts until she’s practically sitting in Ava’s lap.

"Because it bothers you when Lucia does it." Ava looks away,

"You’re not Lucia."

Ava doesn’t know how to explain herself. She doesn’t have the words to express why that doesn’t make sense. Beatrice babysat both their children, has spent extensive time with both of them, read both their children to sleep, eaten at both of their tables. Why is she different? Why is she the exception?

Or is Lucia the exception? Is Beatrice like this with all parents except for Lucia?

"Ava." She quirks her head, furrows her eyebrows, ducks to meet Ava’s averted gaze. "I trust you."

It’s not enough. The words make Ava’s heart skip a beat, but it doesn’t smother the smoke in her lungs.

"I like spending time with you. I like when you hold my hand and kiss my cheek and make me laugh. I like when Diana calls me dad. You’re not just the mother of the child I babysit, you’re my friend too. My best friend. I would tell you if you did something that bothers me and I know you wouldn’t do it again.

"I like you." She grins before scrunching her face up in mock disgust and continuing. "I don’t like Lucia."

It makes Ava laugh, Beatrice's pout miserable and nose crinkled. In response to the sound, Beatrice smiles widely, leans back into Ava's chest, and tucks her nose into the crook of her neck.

~*~

She’s doing it on purpose. Beatrice might not be great at reading people but she is certain that Lucia only wants one thing from her. One thing that Beatrice has absolutely no interest in ever giving her.

Diana crawls inside the enclosed slide, tucks her knees to her chest and closes her eyes when Carlos finishes counting. He grins from the top of the playground, peering over the sides and searching for Diana.

"God, they’re so cute. We would be amazing parents." The comment is accompanied with an arm around her shoulders and a soft sigh. Beatrice ducks out from underneath Lucia’s touch and frowns at her, eyebrows sewn together with utter confusion.

"Would be?" Beatrice might not be Diana’s actual parent, but she sure as shit isn’t a bad understudy.

"I meant like… like together. Both of us."

"I’m doing pretty great with her mother, actually. I don’t think Diana needs anyone else telling her what to do." It makes her stomach twist, the thought of Lucia and her, together.

Lucia laughs at her words, loud and jarring and it makes Diana lift her head from her hiding place on the slide. Carlos sees her move and races to tag her without even acknowledging his mother. Lucia tries to touch her again and Beatrice’s fingers burn when she clenches them into fists at her sides.

"Stop. Touching. Me." She clenches her jaw and takes another step back.

Beatrice doesn’t do anger. She doesn’t do rage. She doesn’t do losing her temper. Beatrice is patient and and forgiving.

Or, as Shannon would say, she’s a pushover.

Either way, Beatrice doesn’t get upset easily. It’s not in her nature.

Lucia seems to take it as a challenge. Like Beatrice’s burning ire is a taunt, like it’s all for show and they’re playing a game.

"Oh, relax, Bea."

"My name is Beatrice."

"Plenty of people call you Bea."

"Only the ones I like." She takes another step back when Lucia reaches for her hand before turning on her heel and storming away. She smiles warmly at Diana when she approaches her, strokes her hair when she tumbles into Beatrice’s legs. "We gotta go, patinho. Your mama’s gunna be home soon."

Diana frowns but wishes Carlos and Luisa farewell, taking Beatrice’s hand and tugging her out of the park.

Beatrice decides not to tell Ava about Lucia anymore. Every time she complains, Ava gets quiet and distant and Beatrice doesn’t like how upset it makes her sometimes. So she decides she will suffer in silence.

~*~

Shannon is easy. She’s easy and relaxed and she goes with the flow. She doesn’t pick fights or start problems.

Except when it comes to Beatrice. Shannon would commit eleven different forms of high treason and treat the Geneva Conventions like a checklist for Beatrice.

"Where are you going?" Beatrice freezes with her hand on the doorknob.

"I’m going with you. You better hurry or we’re gunna be late." Shannon bumps Beatrice carefully out of the way and steps through the door, starting toward Beatrice’s car.

Beatrice doesn’t say anything the entire ride. Diana sings and dances and talks to herself in the backseat while Beatrice grips the steering wheel with all her strength to try to hide the way her hands are shaking.

The house is larger than Shannon had been expecting. An ugly modern, blockish thing with funky shaped windows and uneven roofing. It doesn’t look good or fancy or pretty. It looks like a stain on the skyline.

Like it brings her neighborhood property value down.

There’s a bounce house set up in the front yard, though it’s empty. There are children’s shrieks coming from the backyard, a cacophony of voices and laughter leading Beatrice around the side of the house to the garden gate.

"Hey! Bea! You made it!" Lucia tries to dive into a hug after letting them through the gate, but Shannon intercepts by throwing herself between them and offering her hand to shake.

"I’m Shannon, Beatrice is my sister." She’s silently begging Lucia to say something, to give her an excuse to punch her.

Other than all the reasons Beatrice has given for her.

"Oh. Do you not remember me? We’ve met, years ago." Shannon remembers, it was a scene much alike the one they’re in right now for Carlos’s third birthday. Lucia had annoyed her even then, but she hadn’t made any advances on her baby sister, so Shannon hadn’t really a reason to hate her.

"Sorry, I meet a lot of people in my job, only have the mental capacity to remember a few of the important ones and my personal favorites." If there’s one thing Shannon has learned from her mother, it’s how to make an off-handed comment that slices through someone’s soul. Lucia’s face falls but she doesn’t respond.

"Beatrice! Diana!" A minuscule little girl breaks free of the crowd waving, followed closely by Carlos. He’s older and much taller than the last time Shannon had seen him, and he’s wearing more than a diaper, but it’s certainly him.

Immediately, he’s offering his name and his hand for her to shake, introducing her to his mother and his best friend Marley.

He’s taken Diana to an inflatable slide before Shannon has a chance to ask where to put his present.

"Why don’t you put the gift with the rest and Bea and I can - "

"I’m good. Beatrice can put it with the rest. You and I can do whatever you need her help with, though." Beatrice squeezes Shannon’s fingers when they exchange the gift, a meek nod and tight smile before she’s disappearing into the crowd.

"Oh, I need Bea’s help."

"I taught Beatrice how to do everything she knows. If she can do it, I’ve probably been doing it better for longer." Lucia sighs and shakes her head, rolls her eyes when she turns away and enters the house.

"Hey." Beatrice ducks out from behind a group of young parents chattering loudly over their drinks.

"I don’t like her."

"You don’t have to treat her like that." Shannon laughs and slings her arm over Beatrice’s shoulders.

"When she calls you the right name, I’ll consider being nicer."

"No you won’t." Beatrice smiles and rolls her eyes, presses heavily into Shannon’s side.

"I said consider. I never said I had any actual intention of doing it." Beatrice laughs and searches for Diana in the line for the slide. She can’t deny that her heart stutters when she can’t immediately find her.

"Da!" Diana waves from atop the slide, smiling until she looks down. Beatrice extricates herself from Shannon and moves to the bottom to wait for Diana, who appears to have no intention of moving.

"Are you scared?" Diana nods softly, eyes wide and wet. Carlos crawls beside her and offers his hand, whispering quietly. Diana shakes her head and pushes away from the slope, dropping his hand. "I’m coming up, okay?"

Diana meets her at the top of the ladder, arms raised for Beatrice to pick her up.

"It’s okay. Do you want to go down together?" Diana shakes her head again and balls Beatrice’s shirt in her fists. "Alright, we will have to climb down though. We can’t live up here, can we?"

Diana shakes her head, lifts her head warily and glances to the ladder. "Carlos has cake."

"I can ask mom if we can cut it now." Carlos waves at someone near the base of the slide. "Do you want me to ask? I’m gunna go ask."

And with that, he’s gone.

Beatrice pushes as far away from the slope as possible so other children can go, holds Diana and pats her back until she lifts her head and turns to watch some of the kids jumping and falling down the slide. She blinks slowly, thumb tucked carefully between her teeth.

"Do you want to try again?" Marley bounces and waves while she waits her turn in line. Diana lifts her head slowly and waves back but doesn’t respond to Beatrice’s question. "You don’t have to but if you would like, you can sit on my lap and we can go down together."

Beatrice motions for the girl at the top of the stairs to go, squeezes Diana tighter when she flinches at the girl throwing herself haphazardly down the slide. She watches quietly as more and more kids go and Beatrice is beginning to think she’s going to change her mind when Marley finally emerges from the line.

"Carlos said they’re gunna do the cake soon, do you wanna climb down with me?" Marley offers her hand but doesn’t try to push Diana, she waits. Diana glances between her and Beatrice warily, fist squeezing tightly around the neck of Beatrice’s sweater.

"We can all go together, but it’s up to you, patinho." Diana nods and makes no move to follow Marley down the steps.

Carlos calls for them from below but neither of them move, Marley offers a cursory glance but doesn’t respond when he calls her name.

"Dada?" Diana buries her head in the crook of Beatrice’s neck, Beatrice hums and squeezes her tighter. "Scared."

"I know. It’s okay to be scared, Diana. Everyone gets scared."

"I’m scared of the dark and vampires and multiplication," Marley chimes, crawling to them. "But the sun still goes down and vampires aren’t real and my mom makes me do my math homework. You can do things that scare you."

"Okay," Diana nods and takes Marley’s hand.

"You wanna go down?" Diana nods and tugs Beatrice’s hand.

"Do you want me to hold you?" Diana nods again and Beatrice agrees, moving to the edge of the slide and letting Diana settle in her lap. "Are you ready?"

"No." Beatrice squeezes her closer and Diana takes a deep breath. "We go now."

For the first time, Beatrice looks down the slide and her stomach drops. Why is a kid’s slide so tall?

"Dada. Now." Beatrice nods and pushes off, squeezing her eyes closed and trying not to scream at the plummet. When they hit the bottom, Diana squirms out of Beatrice’s arms and bounces to the exit when Shannon is standing bemused.

"Was it fun, kiddo?"

"No. Cake?" Shannon laughs and watches her race off to Carlos.

"You alright?" Shannon pulls Beatrice up, helps her out of the slide. "I thought you were going to wet yourself."

"I’m fine. It was great. Ava’s supposed to do the high stuff," Beatrice jokes.

"The high stuff? It was a kid’s slide, bumble Bea."

"I hate you, you can leave." Lucia looks up at her jeer, eyes l alight with something that drains the warmth from the moment. Shannon glances between them and steps in front of her to block Beatrice from Lucia’s view.

"I’m not leaving until I get cake." She says it loud enough for Lucia to hear before turning to Beatrice and dropping her voice. "Let me say something, Bea."

"No. Shannon, it’s his birthday."

"So? You know I wouldn’t say anything to him."

"Shannon." Shannon rolls her eyes and turns back around just in time for Carlos to blow out his candles.

"Why won’t you let me do this for you?"

"Because I remember the last time you did this for me. And we both know you don’t look good in stripes or in orange. If you think about it, I’m actually protecting you." Beatrice watches Diana waiting to get her piece of cake and glances at the back door to the house. "I’ll be back, can you - "

"Is she gunna do a flip?" It’s Beatrice’s turn to roll her eyes, sighing fondly before slipping through the door in search of a bathroom. Luckily, Lucia had the foresight to plaster directional signs on the walls so Beatrice doesn’t have to search hard.

Lucia is leaned against the wall waiting for her when she comes out.

"Saved you a piece of cake," Lucia straightens and extends a slice of cake.

"Oh. Thank you, but I’m not very fond of sweets." Beatrice smiles politely and waves the cake away, glancing past Lucia in the direction she had come.

"Oh that’s fine. I have something else for you too." Beatrice doesn’t like the way Lucia smiles at her.

"I should really get back to Diana…" Beatrice glances down the hall again, hoping Shannon somehow knew she needed her and materialized to rescue her.

"It’ll only take a few minutes. Diana won’t even notice." Beatrice jerks away when Lucia tries to take her hand.

"No I really - "

"Hey, Bea…?" Shannon. "I think we should go…"

Diana’s holding a racecar napkin over her elbow. It’s stained a deep red.

"Oh my god, what happened?" Shannon slaps her hand over Beatrice’s when she tries to move the napkin. "Are you okay?"

Diana nods and shifts toward Beatrice so she takes her, Shannon fixes her with a look that Beatrice doesn’t understand but she follows her out of the house anyways. They wish Carlos a happy birthday in quick farewells before leaving.

They’re halfway to her car when Shannon speaks.

"I knew she would try something."

"I was gone for two minutes, what happened?"

"I saw her follow you." Beatrice stops and turns to her.

"To Diana. What happened to Diana?"

"Oh. Nothing, she’s fine." Shannon lifts the napkin to prove her point, revealing a red stained, uninjured elbow. Beatrice scoffs and rubs the red dye away with her thumb.

"What did you - "

"Fake blood. You can buy it by the gallon at a Hallow-"

"You just carry around fake blood? Shannon!" Beatrice pauses to reinspect Diana’s skin, double-checking she has no injuries before fastening in her car seat.

"I knew you would need an out and Mary never lets me use the fake blood. Come on, you gotta admit that it - "

"I don’t have to admit anything. Don’t use Diana like that, she’s not a prop." Beatrice closes Diana’s door carefully before turning to face Shannon.

"You wouldn’t have left if it was me bleeding." She right. Probably. Truthfully, it would’ve depended on how much fake blood Shannon was willing to use.

"I didn’t need an out, I was fine." Beatrice starts to storm around the car when Shannon grabs her wrist.

"Fine? Beatrice, you looked like you were going to throw up. Maybe I could’ve gone about things differently but I don’t like her. I don’t trust her."

"You don’t have to like her or trust her, I do."

"Do you?" Shannon drops Beatrice’s arm, watches her walk around the car and climb in the drivers seat.

"Do I what, Shannon?" She knows. It’s answer enough for both of them to know.

Shannon doesn’t respond.

~*~

The next time they see Carlos, Beatrice has taken Diana to the local children’s museum. Diana is shoving colored scarfs into a tube then chasing them when they are blown out the top. She loves it.

"Beatrice!" A small body collides into her back, tearing her attention from the little girl to greet Carlos.

"Hi, Carlos. Diana, do you want to say hi?" Diana waves before returning to her previous task, Beatrice smiles and ruffles her hair before turning back to Carlos. "How are you doing, buddy?"

"I’m good. Marley is here, do you wanna see her?" He bounces in place when he asks, positively vibrating about the edges.

"I would love to see her! Could you bring her here, I don’t think Diana’s quite ready to move on yet." He agrees and disappears into the sea of children.

"Good morning, Bea." Beatrice sidesteps a hug, shrugging off the hand Lucia strokes across her shoulder.

"I’ve told you, my name is Beatrice." She tries so very hard to keep the edge from her tone, but Diana looks up worriedly at the change in her voice. Beatrice forces a smile and she returns to her game. Beatrice searches briefly for Carlos’s unruly curls in the everflowing ocean of children, catching and returning a yellow scarf that falls into her face.

"Da!" Diana calls, tugging on Beatrice’s hand before continuing in a whine. "Hungry."

"We were just about to head out for lunch, if you want to join?" Lucia winks when Beatrice meets her gaze, twisting Beatrice’s stomach into a knot.

"Thanks but - "

"Bea!" Beatrice’s head snaps to Ava waving at her energetically, trying to weave through the children racing between them. She smiles reflexively, waves and lifts Diana to see her, setting her back down and watching her race to her mother. Ava captures her, picks her up and kisses her cheek before dropping into Beatrice’s chest. "Hans needed me to trade shifts, I have the day off. I was thinking we could get lunch?"

"I was actually just inviting them with us!" Lucia’s voice is overly saccharine, too bright. Ava lifts her head from Beatrice’s shoulder and stares at the woman curiously, smiling and waving at the children when they greet her.

"This is Carlos, the boy I was telling you about, his friend Marley, and his mother Lucia." Ava twists to meet her eyes when the woman’s name comes out sharper than Beatrice had intended. She asks about it silently, searches for the words Beatrice isn’t ready to say. Beatrice looks away.

"Well, what do you wanna do, Di?" Ava bounces her softly. Diana looks between Beatrice’s tensed jaw and Carlos’s buzzing excitement.

"Go Carlos?" Ava nods once and waits for Beatrice to agree as well before acknowledging Lucia.

Ava makes small talk with Lucia while they make their way to the restaurant next door, Beatrice’s fingers curled tightly around hers. When they are taken to a table, Lucia’s hand presses briefly into the small of her back and she winks when Beatrice bumps into Ava trying to shrug her off. The children elect to sit across from the adults with Beatrice sat between Ava and Lucia. Beatrice prays this meal won’t be as awful as she thinks it will.

Ava kisses the back of her hand before relinquishing it to take Diana to the bathroom.

"So?" Lucia’s hand scrapes up Beatrice’s thigh until she shoves it off her lap. "Who’s that?"

"She is Diana’s mother, Ava. Please stop touching me." Beatrice tries to fight the rising pressure in her lungs. Lucia smiles coyly and winks when Ava slides back into the seat next to Beatrice.

"Are you alright?" Ava presses into Beatrice’s side, squeezes the hand she pulls into her lap.

"Fine." Beatrice forces a smile and she knows Ava doesn’t believe her, she knows by the wrinkle between her eyes and the little quiver of the corner of her mouth. Carlos shoots a straw wrapper at Beatrice and she laughs brightly, dropping Ava’s gaze to fling the wrapper in his direction.

Lucia pats her knee and Beatrice suddenly finds she isn’t hungry anymore. Beatrice crosses and uncrosses her legs more times than she can count, trying desperately to listen as Carlos and Ava discuss the best Pokémon and why it’s Mimikyu. Marley disagrees and brings Mew into the conversation but Beatrice can’t focus enough to join, even when they all try so hard to get her involved. Ava keeps pausing to look at her, especially when Beatrice chokes on her drink because Lucia squeezes her thigh.

"I’m going to clean myself up." Beatrice blots the wet spot on her shirt with her napkin, ignoring the stares she receives when she scrapes her chair back and rushes to the restroom.

She stares at her wild eyes and hair in the mirror for only a moment before pulling her shirt off and holding it under the hand dryers, more thankful than ever that she decided to wear a top under her shirt today.

The door creaks open and Beatrice sighs, doesn’t turn from the hand dryer. She waits for Ava’s worried voice to ask if she’s alright, she waits for the light touch on her elbow to silently ask her to turn.

Instead, arms slither around her hips, curl around her stomach and turn her in place.

"Lucia. Umm, could I… could I just get a minute… I’m not feeling too well." Beatrice takes a step back, hits her elbow on the hot metal of the dryer. She has nowhere to go, Lucia stands between her and the door.

"So Ava, huh?" Is this what a rabbit feels like when a wolf decides to make a meal of it?

"I would really prefer not to do this, please." She hates how her voice shakes, how her hip clips the edge of the sink, how her shoulders press into the cold tile wall.

"It’s okay, we don’t have to tell your girlfriend." Lucia winks and her breath singes across Beatrice’s face. She squeezes her eyes closed and tries to disappear.

Beatrice forgets how to breathe, she feels the world collapse into this single moment as her blood runs cold and Lucia kisses her.

Her stomach turns hard and she freezes, she disappears. Beatrice is certain she’s going to fall through the floor and wake up in hell, that this is some sort of demonic torture method for whatever sins she’s forgotten to ask repentance for. But when Lucia tries to force her tongue in Beatrice’s mouth, she remembers how to move.

Beatrice shoves her shoulders hard, sends Lucia stumbling backward and crashing into the far wall. She makes a beeline for the door, swings it open and wrenches her arm out of Lucia’s cold grip.

"Bea?" Ava’s already on her feet, eyes wide and fingers brushing over the inside of Beatrice’s wrist. She doesn’t try to regain the contact when Beatrice yanks her arm away. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I just remembered I have a thing, I’ve got to go." Carlos watches her dig through her jacket for a handful of cash, dropping it on the table before ducking through the group coming in the door and turning down the sidewalk.

Ava lifts Diana from her seat, hurries to follow Beatrice onto the street, spins in place to try to find her when they emerge.

Beatrice has disappeared without a trace.

Ava tries calling her, tries sending her messages but she receives no replies. So she makes her way home with Diana, promises to order pizza in exchange for her lunch being cut short.

She’s there.

Pacing in hurried circles and chewing on her thumbnail in front of Ava’s door. Her eyes are red and her breaths are ragged and wet, her nail beds on the opposite hand are raw and bleeding in some places from where she’s torn the skin apart between her teeth.

Ava doesn’t try to stop her movements, doesn’t try to figure out what’s bothering her, she simply opens the door and steps out of the way for Beatrice to enter unimpeded. Beatrice offers no acknowledgment, no explanation as she pushes into the apartment and locks herself in the bathroom.

Ava settles Diana in her high chair with chicken nuggets and broccoli pieces before going to check on Beatrice.

"Hey, Bea." She knocks on the door. "It’s just me. Are you okay?"

"I’m going to take a shower." Her words are rushed and she stumbles over them like Bambi on ice.

"Okay. I can get you some fresh clothes, would you prefer that?"

"Thank you." Ava rests her forehead against the door and sighs, lets her eyes close as she tries to will Beatrice into being okay.

She gathers her softest pajamas, the set Beatrice always steals when she forgets to bring her own. She hears the water screech on, the shower curtain scream closed. Diana whines from her entrapment and Ava lets her down, bribes her with cookies into going down for her nap early before she returns to the door. She knocks firmly and receives no reply.

"Hey, Bea." Ava calls through the door. "I have those pajamas you love. Do you want me to leave them out here or - "

"You can come in." Ava inhales deeply and nods, twists the knob slowly, staring intentionally at her feet as she steps into the steam filled room.

"I’m just going to leave these on the counter, I’ll be in the living room if you need me." She spins back to the door after dropping the clothes where she’d promised to leave them, pausing when she hears a sharp sniffle from behind the curtain. "Bea? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just - can…" Beatrice takes a shaky breath. "Can you stay?"

"Oh. Umm yeah. I can stay. Do I - do I need to like… I’m not quite certain what I’m supposed to do." Beatrice makes a coughing sound that resembles a choked sob and Ava wants to wrap her in a blanket and tell her everything’s going to be alright. "Do you want me to sit here next to the tub?"

"It’s fine, you don’t - "

"That wasn’t my question, Bea. Do you want me to sit next to the tub, yes or no?"

"Yes." Her voice nearly gets lost in the water hitting the bottom of the basin, Ava barely catches when she adds infinitely quieter. "Please."

"Of course." Ava presses her back into the cold porcelain tub and hums quietly to herself, crossing her legs and hoping Beatrice will tell her what’s wrong without her having to ask. She’s not sure why she offers, but Beatrice doesn’t seem to be doing much more than standing under the scalding hot water. "I have a bath bomb or bubbles if you would prefer to take a bath."

"I - are you sure?" The curtain shifts and Beatrice’s hair drips water onto the tiles beside Ava.

"Absolutely. I mean, the bath bombs have little toys in them, but if you’re willing to overlook that." Ava stares at the animals on the bathmat.

"Are they good toys?" Beatrice is trying very hard to sound lighthearted, Ava knows she’s trying to wash away the stifling dark clouds that have settled in the room with them.

"Well, Diana loves them." Ava offers a half smile over her shoulder, not quite turning enough to meet Beatrice’s eyes. Beatrice laughs wetly and the water turns off briefly before she starts to fill the tub. Ava digs through Diana’s bath supplies, raising the bath bomb box above her head triumphantly when she finds it. "I have lavender and chamomile, orange and grapefruit, or… well this just says milk. I don’t know what that means."

"I would rather not smell like soggy cereal," Beatrice tries to joke, but the tears in her voice drown the humor. "The chamomile one sounds nice."

The curtain screams as it’s pushed open slowly, Ava stares intently at the door when she turns to hand the bath bomb to Beatrice.

"Thank you." Her voice is softer than it had been before, strained with emotion and Ava wants so desperately to wrap her in her arms and tell her it’s okay.

"It’s just a bath bomb. I think it was like four dollars for the set."

"Not. Not that. For - " Beatrice makes a clicking noise. Ava presses her back into the side of the tub. She doesn’t turn. "For being you. For being here."

"I never left. I’ve always been here, Bea. I always will."

"You can’t promise that." Ava almost turns, for barely a second she starts to. But she stops. She doesn’t want to make Beatrice uncomfortable.

"I can. And I have. And I will." Beatrice’s hand drips water down her neck when she brushes Ava’s hair over her shoulder. The droplet races down Ava’s spine and makes her shiver.

The water sloshes as Beatrice leans to turn it off, Ava can hear the bath bomb fizzing quietly as it dissolves, Diana’s music box slows to a stop. Ava worries Beatrice can hear her heart thumping against her chest. Lavender and chamomile wrap around her like a warm coat, carried by the steam from the broiling hot water.

Ava twists, keeps her head trained on the opposite wall while she extends her hand for Beatrice to take if she wishes. She does, threads her wet fingers through Ava’s and squeezes. Ava squeezes back.

"You can look." Ava’s heart stops and she shakes her head reflexively. "It’s okay, Ava."

"Are you sure?" Father forgive me but fuck you, this is not the time for these feelings. Beatrice’s free hand is gentle as it takes Ava’s chin and slowly turns her head for their eyes to meet. Her smile is soft and sincere, Ava reciprocates it easily.

She’s folded into herself, knees tucked under her chin, arm squeezing around her shins, shoulders curled into her thighs. She looks so small. Small and broken. Eyes red and puffy, nose raw, cheeks flushed. Ava’s never seen her like this, it twists and pulls and stabs her in the heart.

"Are you alright?" She rubs her thumb over Beatrice’s knuckles, watches her throat bob when she swallows.

"Fine." Ava raises an eyebrow but she doesn’t ask again, Beatrice drops her chin onto her knees and sighs, cuts her eyes away. "I’m sorry."

"You don’t have to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong." Beatrice shrugs and Ava offers a half smile. "Do you want me to wash your hair? It always makes me feel better when I’m upset."

Beatrice nods and Ava grabs the shampoo bottle as she moves behind Beatrice, massaging it into her scalp. Beatrice sighs deeply and leans into the touch, the soap foams and drips onto Beatrice’s shoulder. Ava watches the bubbles race down her back, trail over a freckle on her back.

"It was Lucia." Ava’s head snaps up as Beatrice turns, presses her chin into her shoulder.

"That upset you?" Beatrice nods. "Did you get into a fight?" Ava rinses the soap off her hands, cups water in her hand to rinse Beatrice’s hair.

"We aren’t - it’s not like that. I don’t - " Beatrice shakes her head, turns away. She sniffs and her voice wobbles, she continues barely in a whisper. "Please."

"Sorry. It’s not my business. You don’t have to tell me." Beatrice sighs again. "You can if you want, I just don’t want to pry."

"Ask."

"Uh, what?" Ava pulls back, braces herself on the edge of the tub.

"Ask. Please. I can’t…"

"Did she do something?" Beatrice nods. "Something you didn’t like?" She nods again. "Something you didn’t want?" Another nod. "Did she hurt you?"

Beatrice twists completely, tears in her eyes and chin wobbling. Soap tracks down the side of her face and Ava wipes it away without thinking. Beatrice flinches away.

"Sorry." She pulls away. Beatrice chases her hand with her own, leads it back to her face.

"Please."

"What’d she do, Bea?" Ava holds her face steady, listens to the water drip from the faucet.

"It’s not - it’s not even - I shouldn’t - "

"Hey, hey. Listen to me, you’re safe. You’re safe now. Whatever happened, I’m here." Ava doesn’t think before pulling her into her arms, soapy water drenching her shirt when Beatrice tucks her head into her neck. Ava cradles the back of her head, scratches the foamy skin there softly. "I’m here. You’re safe."

"I shouldn’t feel like this. It was just - it was - it was - "

"It wasn’t just anything, Bea. If you’re upset, it’s not just anything. Don’t invalidate your own emotions." Ava drops her cheek against the top of her head, squeezes her shoulders and rubs a circle on her back. "I’m here. You’re safe."

She holds her while she cries, scratches the nape of her neck and rubs across her shoulders until the tears fade and the sobs stop. She lets Beatrice’s wet hair stick her shirt to her back and trickle water down her spine, resists the urge to press a kiss against her temple. She holds her until the steam stops rising and the water cools and the bath bomb fizz all pops. She holds her until she pulls away.

"Hey. Come on. Let’s get you dressed and into bed, yeah?" Ava rubs the tops of her shoulders and smiles. "Let me rinse the rest of the shampoo out of your hair, then I’ll brush it and braid it, yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Always." Ava guides her back around, tilts her head back and slowly rinses the remaining soap from her hair. Beatrice watches her silently through glassy eyes, Ava’s careful not to splash any soap into her eyes, cups her hands to block the water when she pours it over her scalp. She helps her up, hands her a clean towel from the rack. "I’ll be right outside, if you need me."

"You don’t - you can stay." Ava pauses with her fingers on the doorknob.

"I know. I’ll be on the other side of the door." She doesn’t close it all the way, she stays where Beatrice can see her through the crack in the door. The wet spot on her shirt is cold, makes the skin feel blasted with frigid Arctic air. The door creaks open quietly and Beatrice’s fingers are warm as she grazes down the back of Ava’s elbow to her wrist. Ava turns and watches a water droplet speed down the vein in Beatrice’s neck and spread into the neck of her pullover. She’s holding Ava’s hairbrush and a hair tie. "Bed?" Beatrice nods a single time, chews on her bottom lip until Ava taps her thumb against the flesh. She smiles when Beatrice releases the raw skin from between her teeth. "Come now, let’s take care of your hair."

She’s gentle as she leads Beatrice to her bedroom, as she settles her on the floor beside her bed, as she shifts so Beatrice’s back is pressed into her shins.

"Is this okay?" Her hand hovers over Beatrice’s damp hair. She nods. "I need you to tell me, Bea."

"This is okay." Ava’s fingers sift through her hair, bundle the hair together so she can pull the brush through it carefully. Ava doesn’t speak again while she twists Beatrice’s hair into a French braid, ties the hair elastic around the end and drops it over Beatrice’s shoulder.

"All done. Do you want to lay down? Or I can make tea. Or we can watch a movie. Diana’s down for her nap so we have - "

"Ava."

"Sorry. I don’t want to make you feel like you - "

"I know." Beatrice presses deeper into Ava’s legs, drops her head over her knee. "I feel safe with you."

And there it is. That’s silly warm feeling that twists Ava’s heart in her chest and squeezes her lungs and makes her body pulse with each heartbeat.

Ava rubs her thumb over a freckle on Beatrice’s neck that’s shaped almost like a heart.

"Diana has one like this in this same spot." Beatrice twists to try to see what Ava’s talking about. "This heart-shaped freckle. She has it right here." She traces the muscle in her neck further up before pressing her thumb into the space Diana’s freckle is. She can feel Beatrice’s heartbeat thrashing beneath her fingertips.

Beatrice lifts her eyes from Ava’s hand to meet her gentle gaze, she turns into her, presses up on her knees to launch herself into Ava’s chest. She knocks the breath from Ava’s lungs as she tackles her back into the mattress, nose pressing into its home in the crook of her neck and arms squeezing tight.

Ava’s shirt is still wet and Beatrice’s breath across the cold flesh ripples goosebumps across her skin.

"You’re wet." She mumbled into the damp cloth, nuzzling closer.

"That’s what she said." Ava responds automatically before freezing. "Shit sorry, that was - "

Beatrice giggles, soft and unsteady. Ava feels her try to bury her smile in her shoulder, the curve of her grin pressed into her collarbone, the warmth of her laughter seeping through her skin and spreading through her chest.

"It’s okay." Beatrice smiles crookedly, face softer than it has been in as long as Ava can remember. She pulls away, rolls off her and pokes her side softly. "You should change out of your wet clothes."

Ava bites back another witty retort in favor of kissing Beatrice on the forehead and following her suggestion, ducking into her closet to shed the shirt and tug a dry one on. Beatrice is sprawled on her stomach across the bedspread waiting when she opens the door. She smiles, soft eyes watching her quietly.

Ava takes the hand Beatrice holds out to her, allows her to be pulled down beside her. She starts to curl against her when she hesitates.

"Is this okay?" Beatrice nods and Ava chews her lip but doesn’t move.

"It’s okay." Beatrice wiggles closer, guides Ava’s arm around her waist and tucks her nose into her neck. "I feel safe with you."

I feel safe with you.

Ava kisses her forehead again, holds her against her racing heart and prays she’ll never forget this moment.

159 notes · View notes

aerequets · 1 year ago

Text

the uncertainty of the sea by @nire-the-mithridatist

#i havent drawn in so long hnnngg #nothing like a nire fic to get back into it #my art #spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #twiyor #sxf #sxf loid #sxf yor #thorn princess #agent twilight #loidyor #loiyor

3K notes · View notes

kittykatstiles · 2 months ago

Text

this is the kind of face people go to war for

#jsyn i’m reading hedwig new fic right now #guys i’m spiraling….#no one talk to me #the most desirable omega on earth ofc it’s him #derek would declare a war for him #like that’s derek’s omega #that’s his angel princess !!!!!#stiles stilinski #sterek

260 notes · View notes

unfinishedslurs · 4 months ago

Text

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker #han solo #leia organa #imperial luke skywalker #exactly when luke was taken by the empire is totally up to speculation it could honestly be anywhere from newborn to 5 #as for why luke has his dad’s blue lightsaber here instead of like a red one or smth- well you see your honor I thought it would be a slay #but also when you think about it for more than 5 seconds you’re like actually yeah that’s sick and twisted of palpatine and vader actually #you’re carrying your fathers most treasured weapon #you don’t know your father once fought the rise of the very empire you stand to inherit with that blade. you don’t know who he defended #you don’t know your father brought about the end of the republic with that same weapon #he killed the younglings with it. he fought his closest companion with it #you’re carrying what was once your fathers most treasured weapon. you are your fathers most treasured weapon #just as your father is a weapon now #also I didn’t make it clear but obi-wan has his ‘strike me down and I become stronger’ moment like he still dies on purpose to cause proble #but when he saw luke he couldn’t look away. he had to see him with living eyes one last time #can u tell I had So Many Thoughts on everyone else’s perspective in this fic too #han is having a constant crisis in the background because 1) force is real 2) princess is annoying AND pretty which sucks for him #in particular and 3) pretty princess is learning to use the force and is hot while doing it. Chewie is laughing at him. life is hell #good lord did not mean to put an entire essay in the tags. i love their super special twin powers (cosmic entity that binds their souls)#edit: GUYS I FORGOT TO NAME THE FUCKING AU #AND WHEN I TRY AND FIX IT IT GLITCHES OUT ON MEEE 😭😭😭

221 notes · View notes