#i suddenly had beef with this one last night

[the-tubort]

So I did a Chemy tier list

[b4kuch1n]

the legends speak of it as a kind of enthrallment: the life ended by the tiger is tied to the tiger. in this way there is a line of souls following the beast, for no reason except to show that they were killed. that they could be saved - if only the beast would die [...] in the dark of the wood you see it walk, shadow to shadow, followed by loss after loss after loss, a tail trailing seemingly into the deep death of night [...]

[octoberautumnbox]

The Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424

CLC/Kep1er Choi Yujin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, older girl, undisclosed age gap (nothing creepy tho), soft dom Yujin, titsucking, nursing handjob, cowgirl, creampie, breeding, overstimulation a lil bit

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: discordant waltz chapter alr planned out dw i just wanted to switch things up a lil, this was a blast to write :D 

“Hey, so good to see you! Come in!” 

You take off your shoes and Yujin pulls you in for a hug. The aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies fills your nostrils and sends your stomach growling. 

“Hi, Noona. It's great to see you again.” You back away from the hug, but Yujin keeps you within arm's length with her dainty hands on your shoulders. You admire her simple yet adorable outfit, which only compliments her bright personality.

“Take a seat, cookies are still cooling down but dinner is ready!” 

She plops you down at the dining table and sets your plate and silverware. While she buzzes from cupboard to table and back, you draw your eyes from one tiny dish to the next. Kimchi, lettuce leaves, cheese cubes, the works. At the center of the table is a small grill, with a pan sitting on top and evidently expensive cuts of beef like what they go crazy for in variety shows sizzling enticingly. 

You keep from drooling at the last second at the feast before you, and you manage to choke out, “Wow, are we expecting more people, Noona? This looks delicious.”

“No, just the two of us,” Yujin says cheerfully as she places your chopsticks at the right side of your plate. “Too much?”

“Way too much! You really pamper me whenever I come by. Thanks, Yujin-noona.” 

She chuckles cutely while covering her mouth with a finger. “You visit too rarely for a neighbor. Come by more often and I can tone down the food, okay?” 

She takes her seat next to you and squeezes your hand. Skillfully and quickly, she picks up a piece of beef from the pan, a leaf of lettuce, just the right amount of kimchi, a leaf of perilla, and finally a cube of cheese. She presents you with the expertly made wrap and brings it to your mouth, saying “Ahhh.”

~~~

She sets the plate of cookies on the coffee table in front of you as you offer her the other half of the blanket. She joins you on the couch and shuffles right up to you, placing her head on your shoulder and bringing your arm around her. 

The movie starts playing and the necessary studio intro clips crescendo onto the screen. “This is one of my favorites. You'll love it too.” She snuggles more comfortably into your side and sighs a breath of relaxation. Squeeze her shoulder, tell her wordlessly that you're excited to love this movie as well.

~~~

You come to, and groggily you look around. It's of little help, as the TV shut itself off sometime ago and the lights are all out. You feel a shifting weight beside you and your face suddenly fills with a scratchy texture and the sweetest scent you've probably ever smelled in your life, no doubt a faceful of your neighbor’s hair. 

“Yujin-noona, wake up. We fell asleep and the movie's over.” 

You try to shake her awake gently, and it works. Yujin sits up slowly and tries checking the time on her phone. After the initial short-lived blindness, she sets it down and rubs her eyes. 

“It's late. Sleep over. No buts.” Knowing you had no choice, you submit and help her help you walk and stumble yourselves up the stairs and to her bedroom. 

She plugs a star-shaped night light into a low wall socket and the pair of you fall into the bed. You cuddle into her side this time and she graciously wraps you in her arms. The smell of her hair and her bedsheets fill your nostrils again with a calming fragrance.

However, in an act of dastardly betrayal, your brain for whatever reason thinks your sweet beloved neighbor Yujin-noona is… something more. As you take in more and more of her scent, and gaze up from her side to see the way her eyes are shut lighty and her lips are slightly parted as light snores slip through, your heart beats a different rhythm as if just now realizing and admiring the beauty that is Choi Yujin. 

“This can’t possibly be,” you think to yourself, “she’s my neighbor and very close friend. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.” You continue to fight down your subconscious feelings from bubbling up into your conscious mind, but the fullness of your tummy and the comfiness of the way you’re in bed with her prove it a challenge. 

“Something wrong? What are you thinking about?” You’re taken aback by Yujin’s sudden words. “Are you okay? Tell Yujin-noona what you need.” She rubs her eyes again and meets your gaze. In possibly the worst stroke of luck you could ever have had in this life, as she negotiates her hand back under the covers, she comes into light contact with you in the middle of you pitching a tent in your pants.

“... Oh.” is all Yujin could get out before you turn beet-red and stutter your apologies. 

“Shit, Noona, I’m so sorry! I- I should go- I’m sorry.” Your mind fills with shame at how you’ve ruined such a nice and pure friendship with your lovely neighbor. You try to stumble out from under the blanket, pushing Yujin away, but once again she places her dainty hand on your shoulder.

“Stop that right now. Come here.” Her command is mild but assertive. She lifts up the blanket to welcome you back, patting the space beside her in her bed. You sheepishly rejoin her under the fluffy covers, but before you settle, she makes another set of commands.

“This is my house, so for me to be a good host, you will tell me anything and everything you need. That includes this,” she whispers breathily, palming the growing bulge in your pants, “Most. Of. All.”

You can do nothing but whimper at her unrelenting touch. It doesn’t help that she’s already fiddling with the waistband of your underwear and wrestling it out of her way. What’s worse, your position in bed with her makes it impossible for you to look anywhere but to meet her eyes, or maybe…

“Use your words, baby boy, tell Noona exactly what you need.” An evil grin forms across her mouth, painting her features with a sinister shade of lust. 

“Noona… Could you please…” The words barely struggle out of your mouth, and even then you’re not saying anything of value. Yujin only chuckles more, covering her mouth with one finger, before prodding you incrementally yet ever closer to the edge.

“I can’t read minds, baby boy. You’re going to have to do better than that.” 

“Noona, your… your top, please. Take it off.” Wide-eyed, you watch as she grabs the piece of clothing by the hem and starts pulling up. Her belly button comes into your view as she goes on tantalizingly slowly revealing more of her creamy skin to your hungry eyes. 

The top then clears past her ribs, and she slows down ever so slightly, keeping you on the edge. You choose to relieve some of the pressure in your crotch yourself by stroking your dick to the unbelievably lewd sight, but Yujin has other plans.

“No, bad boy. Only Noona gets to play with that tonight.” In saying so, she lets go of her top, covering everything she showed you so far, to swat your hands away from masturbating. A deep sense of regret fills you, knowing that only you could be blamed for delaying your pleasure. However, Yujin seems satisfied that you learned your lesson and resumes her striptease.

She reaches a critical point in her teasing, bunching up all of the fabric so far right under her boobs. Her nipples poke through the thin fabric, and you fight the urge to just dive into her tits and ravage them to your heart’s desire. She relishes in the burning gaze you’re subjecting her to, as if getting off to being ogled by her neighbor and best friend. She grows a few shades redder in the face to match yours, but ultimately she pulls her top up past her breasts, freeing them and letting them bounce. With the top now only covering her neck and shoulders, she opts to tease you more:

“Like what you see?” she asks sultrily while winking at you. She cups each of her tits with her hands, presenting them to you, and tweaking her nipples to get them hard for you. Yujin takes her lower lip between her teeth, obviously growing more and more aroused at the thought of letting you take her right then and there.

You try to find some spit in your mouth to swallow, but it’s dry as a desert and you’re left breathless instead. You swear that you could just die right there and be happy with the life you’ve lived so far, and with how your noona is treating you, you just might actually pass.

“Baby boy, I’ll say again: Tell Noona exactly what you need.” Her top finally leaves her body and she shows herself off to you. Her fingers snake through her hair and you’re blessed with an unobstructed view of the most luscious tits you’ve ever seen. 

“I want…” You try forcing words out of your mouth again, but Yujin makes the job (and you) so extremely hard. “I want to suck your tits.”

“Not with that attitude, mister. I am your Noona and you will speak to me with respect.” She’s got you now, her deadly scold wringing your neck and cutting off what little airflow your lungs had. You’re left with no choice; submit to her will.

“Yujin-noona, please let me suck your tits, please…” Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, anticipating the imminent pleasure of her boobs on your face. It means the world to you when she places a hand behind your head and pulls you closer.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, baby boy? Say ahhh…” You follow her command and she gently pushes her left breast into your mouth. Her skin tastes delicious, and her nipple is just the right stiffness to lick and nibble and worship.

She guides you to a more comfortable position, and you find yourself laying down while Yujin is on her side, still with her boob in your mouth, while she pulls your arm towards her right boob to fondle and grope as you please. 

“Is my precious baby boy comfy?” she asks much too cutely for what she’s making you do to her. “Yesh noona, ahm conhfy…” you mutter out with your tongue still wrapped around her nipple. 

“Good boy…” she moans breathily. While you’re taking your fill of her perfect body, she makes her desires known: she wants you too. 

Yujin finds your cock again and strokes it through your pants. “Baby boy, do me a favor, would you?” Her request makes itself apparent with the way she’s reaching under your waistband, and you could do nothing but oblige and strip yourself as quickly as possible of both pants and underwear.

“My perfect baby boy…” Her tone is laced with venom as your musk reaches her nostrils. She places a fingertip on the slit of your cock and spreads your precum all over the head. “What I’d give to do to your cock what you’re doing to my tits right now…”

Her pace speeds up, and while you have half a mind to ask her to slow down, you know you have no right to ask her of that. Instead, you go for the next best thing.

“Yujin-noona,” you surrender, her breast falling out of your mouth and onto your cheek, “could you please let me fuck your pussy?”

She chuckles again, but more evilly this time. “Of course, my sweet baby boy, but you’re gonna have to follow my lead.” 

“Anything for you, Noona.”

She places you properly down onto the bed, making sure you’re comfy, and plants a kiss on your cheek. She forces you to watch, with a hand on your cheek guiding your face, as she peels off her shorts to show you more of her skin: her smooth legs, creamy thighs, and plump ass you now have the pleasure to grope as much as she’s willing to let you. She climbs on top of and straddles you, the large wet spot on her pink-and-white striped panties nearly leaking her juices onto her thighs, before she takes your hard and throbbing cock into her hands again. 

“Will you be my good baby boy, sweetheart?” She spits into her hand and rubs it all over your dick, causing you to groan in pleasure.

“Yes…” “Yes, what, hmm?”

“... Yes, noona, I’ll be your good baby boy…”

“Perfect, just what I wanted to hear.” She pulls her panties to the side and rubs the head of your cock against her soaked folds. The heat radiating from her sex spurs you on even more, the delayed gratification of slipping into her causing your breaths to heave. Yujin takes on sharp inhales and slow exhales as well each time she teases her clit with your head.

Deciding to finish teasing you, Yujin finally gives you what you’re craving. She sinks down slowly onto your cock, making sure to feel every single vein inside her. Her descent is slow and deliberate and you watch as more and more of your length slips past her pussy lips and into her tight cunt.

“Ffffuck, baby boy, you’re going to split me in half with a cock like this…” 

It starts to overwhelm you: the warmth from her slick, the tightness of her cunt, the clenching of her walls against your cock as if desperate for a climax as early as this. You surely want your noona like this for much longer than just a few seconds more, but you’re in absolutely no control at all.

“Baby boy, tell me if you’re close, okay?” You nod furiously, and Yujin drops herself violently onto your crotch, pushing every last inch of your cock into her cunt. “Ah, fuck! Yes, baby boy, fuck me with this thick cock of yours!”

Grab her tiny waist, feel her smooth skin, pull her up ever so slightly. Then, pull her back down onto your dick, feeling her walls clench around you so needily again. The pair of you find a rhythm, and not long after, Yujin herself bounces up and down on your shaft like a pogo stick.

“Shit, baby boy, you feel so fucking good!” She somehow finds little adjustments that push you deeper and deeper into her cunt, and in turn you hit her good spots more and more. It gets progressively more difficult to keep from creampie-ing her right then and there, but you fight for more time to receive her love.

With every thrust into her core, Yujin falters ever so slightly. You notice between her lewd moans and grunts that she’s arching forward, slowly but surely bringing her closer and closer to you. Eventually she gives up trying to stay upright, and she falls forward only to catch herself with her elbows planting deep into the mattress on either side of your head. 

“Tempting, no? Hah, hah, come on, my sweet, good baby boy, give ‘em a little suck.” Barely registering the lewd words coming out of her mouth, you take her right nipple in between your teeth. Tug respectfully, but tug hard. The sensation of your teeth on her sensitive nub drives her insane, bringing her to the heights of her pleasure, and somehow even higher still. She lets you know just how blissful she is with groans and pleas you can’t help but indulge.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me! My god, yes, please, harder,” and many more nonsense filler words spill from her mouth while you fill her cunt again and again and again. The more she rides you, the more her sweet and tight cunt leaks her juices all over her bed, causing the wet spot to make itself known to you once it grew big enough under her. At the same time, you struggle harder and harder to get your own body under control, fighting back your orgasm for just a bit more time with her like this, just a bit more.

“N- Noona, it feels so good, you feel so fucking good on my cock, Yujin-noona…” You’re completely at her mercy, and her mercy is heaven. With every bounce she makes on your cock you grow harder and hornier for her, only to be welcomed into what might be the wettest, neediest, fullest pussy in the world. You can’t get enough of her: not your cock pistoning into her cunt and poking at the entrance to her womb, not your mouth sucking and biting desperately at the flesh of her perky tits, not your hands roaming all over her body and groping every part of her you can. 

“Baby boy, you’re making Noona feel so fucking good too,” she confesses hazily, and only then you notice that her eyes are falling half–shut and her straining to keep riding you. Her thighs are jiggling with her trembling core, and you figure out that she’s been spraying her girlcum all over your crotch for who knows how long now. 

Her pussy only serves your cock so much better now, wetter and slicker and definitely tighter with how her pussy refuses to let you go. The feeling of her hips convulsing against you almost nearly pushes you over the edge yourself, you’re trying so hard to hold off, but she’s so cute and caring, and she’s so fucking hot…

“Noona, I- I’m so fucking close, Noona!” But Yujin is long gone, lost in her continuous orgasm, doomed to keep leaking from her cunt and mouth and riding you without her better judgment to stop. Wherever Yujin is in the confines of her mind must be drowning in pleasure to keep fucking herself on you like this.

You’re gone too, as even though you know it wouldn’t be that hard to pull her tight body off you yourself, you’re completely in love with the idea of cumming just like this. Your cock buried deep inside your friendly neighbor Choi Yujin, who fed you, hung out with you, treated you like a real brother, only to take advantage of her dazed state of mind to paint her velvet walls white with your cum, filling her to the brim with your baby-making seed, subjecting her to the motherhood of your child…

“Baby boy, do it, shoot all of it inside, sweetheart. Fill Noona up. It’s okay.” On primal instinct, you let out a low growl and grip her ass roughly. Only now do you notice how much she was moaning loudly right into your ear, tinnitus ringing a high-pitched and dizzying tone that wouldn’t stop. Your arms and legs burn with how hard and fast you’re manhandling Yujin’s body, fucking her like a wild animal that knew nothing but sex. She hasn’t stopped orgasming, you feel her slick spread more over your crotch. Her elbows finally give out and she collapses onto you, fully vulnerable to you.

“I’m Noona’s good baby boy” is your last thought before your orgasm takes over your mind. Thrust deeper than ever into her core, shoot your seed straight into her womb. Her strained voice makes one final effort to scream her earth-shattering ecstasy as each spurt of your spunk shoves itself into her, eventually forcing her cunt to leak both her and your cum out in globs. You even lose yourself in the throes of pleasure and forget that you might be hurting her; all you need to know is that her body is yours to use and breed as you like. Keep pistoning into her all the while your cock sprays your love deep into her fertile body, one spurt, two, three, five, eight, eleven, before you lose count and just focus on feeling good with your cute and caring noona. 

Once the world stops spinning and calms down, you find yourself dizzy and gasping for air through a dry-as-a-desert mouth. With fatigue plaguing every part of your body, you can’t even find the strength to get into a less uncomfortable position. Your eyes try to drift lazily across the ceiling, getting your bearings, but Yujin has one last command for you.

“My sweet baby boy, you did so well for Noona. Get your rest, baby.” She places her hand on your eyes, pushing them shut. She keeps her hand there, making sure you don’t open your eyes again while you feel her lips planting kisses on your face, trailing a line from your cheek to your neck. Finally, she licks and then nibbles your lower lip lightly, rewarding you for doing such a good job. 

“B-but what about the mess? And you might get preg–” “Shush now, let Noona worry about that, okay? Sweet dreams, baby boy.”

You stand no chance against her; your fatigue takes over your body and the calmness of the air lulls you into a sense of serenity. As the final nail in the coffin, Yujin refuses to get off of you despite your best attempts at pulling out and pushing her off. Without even realizing it, you fall deep asleep amidst her comforting weight, tender kisses, and soft coos.

~~~

a/n: i went into this fic blind actually. only when I was about half done did I think to check if yujin was actually good at cooking at all but turns out shes not :/

[yellowjestertfs]

The Seed is Strong

"Alright fuel up troops! We got more work to do after this." Mr. Walker dumped the contents of the large paper bag he held onto the table, scattering plastic forks, soy sauce packets, and fortune cookies. One cookie skittered across the table coming to rest directly across from Alex. 

"Look at that," his colleague Levi said clapping Alex on the shoulder. "It's fate you gotta eat it now!" 

"Really? Alex asked nervously. "But I haven't even had my meal yet, and what if there aren't enough for everyone."

Levi rolled his eyes. "I think it will be ok Best Buy. Just eat the damn cookie." Alex nodded and pinched both sides of the crinkly plastic, pulling it apart with his meager strength and freeing the cookie inside. The nickname “Best Buy" was a reference to Alex's job in IT and was one of the tamer things he had been called in his life. Fresh out of college with a computer science degree  Alex wasn't exactly a loser but he also wasn't the envy of many. His life was painfully mundane, except for what he had done last year, he shivered at the thought.

All through college Alex had a girlfriend named Stephanie. He thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with her until he got his heart broken. In an attempt to cheer him up Alex's idiot friend had gotten him a hooker. He had ended up mostly just crying in her lap but at the end of the night, the two had rather pathetic cry sex. The memory still haunted him.

Alex broke the fortune cookie in half and fished for the piece of paper resting in one of the halves. His lucky numbers weren't of much interest although 5 of the 6 numbers were prime. Neat! The words on the front made much less sense. 

"The seed is strong," It said in simple black text. 

"The seed is strong?" What the hell does that mean Alex thought to himself trying to puzzle it out? As in the earth? Was it saying he was going to have a good harvest? Or maybe it was a metaphor, to say that the good he did would become a seed and flourish that way? The whole thing was far too cryptic for math and science-minded Alex and yet the words somehow felt resonant, right. 

Levi leaned over Alex's shoulder to try and see what message had been inside the cookie. "The seed is strong." Alex read for him seeing his coworker could puzzle it out. 

"Yeah man, I know that's right!" Levi said a grin spreading across his face. He extended his hand in the way of the former frat bro expecting Alex to dap him up. Alex was not versed in those foreign ways and so ended up shaking his coworker's hand awkwardly. Levi smirked but turned away so Alex wouldn't see him laugh. 

Alex didn't have time to dwell on Levi's reaction or the awkwardness of the interaction as Delana, Mr. Walker's assistant began to call out orders. "Who got the beef and broccoli?"

Five minutes later a steaming box of orange chicken sat open in front of Alex. Yet despite the food, Alex found his mind wandering. "The seed is strong" "The seed is strong" What could it mean? And why did his groin feel weird? He felt a strange heaviness that he was not used to. Alex adjusted his legs trying to give more room for his package to breathe. Yet the pressure only built. Suddenly his off-the-rack trousers felt horribly constricting. 

As subtly, as he could Alex examined his pants and found a bulge protruding from his crotch, the size of which he wasn't used to. His immediate thought was of a cancerous tumor but he didn't think those grew spontaneously. No this felt like well, like his balls were bigger. Much bigger. But that was impossible, right?

The seed is strong.

NO

That couldn't be what it meant. Were fortune cookies allowed to be explicit? It would explain Levi's reaction. But no there had to be some other explanation. He was saved from his introspection by Brenda in accounting who waved him over. 

"Hey there Alex, it seems I'm having some computer troubles." 

Brenda had her caps locked on. 

"Glad I could help Brenda," Alex said graciously. It was not the first time she had made this mistake. 

"Thanks again. Guess it's back to the old grindstone." The company had been audited which meant all hands on deck. 

"Hopefully we can get this done by 5:00," Alex said starting to make his way back to his seat at the other side of the conference room.

"I sure hope so, gotta pick up the kids pretty soon. What about you Alex, got your kids covered?" Alex's eyes bugged so far out of his head that he was afraid they would fall out of his head and roll around on the carpeted floor. His mind was at war with itself. Most of him was loudly screaming that of course he didn't have kids, he wasn't even married. Yet a small voice said differently. 

The seed is strong

He had three kids, two from his college girlfriend and one from Debby the sex worked he had slept with. No no no that wasn't right that couldn't be. He wasn't a father. He always used protection and besides he couldn't support a family on an IT salary. Yet Alex couldn't get the faces out of his head. Two toddlers a boy and a girl and a newborn baby. 

In a panic, Alex burst out of the conference room and rushed into the men's bathroom. He tried to splash cold water on his face like in the movies but just ended up with water in his nose and stains on his shirt. Checking to make sure no one was in the stalls Alex undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled down the zipper. 

Balls. What the fuck was wrong with his balls. They were huge, fist-sized swollen things. 

The seed is strong.

No. Alex could feel them churning. Could feel his body producing seamen. Inside millions of sperm swam inside begging to be free. Begging to serve their purpose and impregnate. What the Fuck?

The seed is st-

NO. Alex put his pants back on not even bothering to tuck his shirt in. He left the bathroom and started walking not even sure to where. He ended up at his desk. Action figures in their boxes, iPad charging on the window, and framed photos of his children. That was new. That couldn't be. And yet the physicality of it made the reality undeniable. His children.

The seed is strong.

Of course, he had children. For men with the last name Holden like himself, it was practically inevitable. Oh sure, you could try your best, birth control, and condoms for the whole nine yards. Yet very few things can stop the seamen of the Holdens. His father always said their swimmers just kept on swimming, that's why all the men of his family had such large balls. The hyper virility of their family accounted for why Alex was the youngest of 9 children, his poor mother. She often joked that his father was the most expensive fuck in the world, one night with him meant a mouth to feed for 18 years.

For a moment Alex had the image of himself as an only child but that was ridiculous. The seed was too strong for that.

Alex had tried to be careful, he really had. Yet the very first time he and his college girlfriend Stephanie had slept together, taking each other's virginity, she had ended up with a positive pregnancy test two weeks later. He had apologized profusely and suggested they might get rid of the child but Stephanie was religious and insisted on keeping it. Thus his first son, Liam, was born to an 18-year-old father and mother. Parenting in college was tricky but the two made it work. 

While Stephanie was pregnant the two had been able to be intimate, with some care of course. Yet once she gave birth Alex knew they had to stop. He had tried to explain the risks, that no matter how much protection they used the seed was strong. Stephanie hadn't believed and so their second child was born only 10 months after their first. Her name was Lila and she was a fussy enough baby that Stephanie took his words seriously. The two had parented together all throughout college and still remained close but the lack of intimacy doomed the relationship ultimately. 

Alex resigned himself to never having another sexual encounter after Stephanie, two kids was enough for him. That was until his friend hired a hooker. Her name was Debby. He had explained to her his plight and maybe cried a little, feeling down from a lack of intimacy. She had understood and offered to let Alex do butt stuff instead, something Stephanie had never allowed. Alex was all too happy to take her up on that offer and the two had gotten intimate. Alex was thrilled thinking he had found a loophole. That was until he got a call from Debby telling him he was going to have another child. He wasn't sure exactly how it worked. Maybe some of his spunk had somehow dripped down or maybe his sperm were so enthusiastic that they had swam the distance. Whatever the case Alex ended up a father of three from two different women. 

Ding

Alex got a text on his phone from someone named Christopher. "Miss your seed baby." 

What the hell? Who is Christopher? He almost texted that exact question to the number before he saw that this wasn't their first text. In fact, as he scrolled up and up and up it seemed their conversation went on seemingly forever. Alex's cheeks reeded as he saw quite a few naughty pictures of this Christopher, a handsome man with a prominent backside, he found he quite liked the photograph. What's worse Alex saw his own pictures sent on Christopher's request, specifically close-up pictures of his huge balls.

Three dots appeared showing Christopher was typing again. "I need you to load me up, Daddy." This text was followed by two eggplant emoji and a squirt emoji. Whoever this Christopher was he sure was persistent. Of course, most of the men that Alex slept with grew somewhat addicted to his seed. Wait that's not right he wasn't gay? 

The seed is strong

Of course, he was. Or at least he slept with exclusively men now. It was being with Debby that had made him realize. His dick just felt right sitting in the tight confines of an ass. That moment of self-discovery had been life-changing for Alex. He had gone on something of a sexual rampage after that. It felt so good to be able to finally let loose and fuck with abandon. His seed yearned to be spread, and he had done so, thankfully without the risk of a new life emerging from it. 

Christopher was the closest thing Alex had to a boyfriend, although he was more like a long-term fuck buddy. Christopher often joked about how the two had first met. He said he could smell Alex's potent seed from a mile away and that he followed the scent like a cartoon character, nose in the air feet off the ground. 

Alex had been told he had a particular scent. It was his seed, of course, leaking from his balls like steam from hot soup. Not everyone had a nose for it, but to those who did it was like a drug. Christopher was something of a bloodhound for it. 

One night when Christopher was going on and on about how much he loved Alex's seed and how good it smelled and tasted, like "the raw essence of a man" were his exact words, Alex had told him of his father. He was a waterfall to Alex's trickle. Their house used to reek of seed and testosterone, especially when the 7 boys of the family reached maturity and grew Holden balls. Christopher had cum on the spot. Ever since he had been begging to be invited to a family reunion. 

Ding 

Another text. Alex expected it to be Christopher with more pleading for his seed but instead, it was from Stephanie. A picture of their son, Liam, dressed in a football uniform standing on a grassy field. How cute, must be at one of his Little League games. Yet something felt off. As he stared at the pixels on his screen he could swear he watched them move, shift. The kid in the picture was far too old. He looked more like he was in middle school. No that wasn't a middle schooler in the picture, he had the body of a grown man, and was that a college logo on his uniform? Alex's eyes widened as he noticed the sizable bulge in the football pants. He shut off his phone. 

The seed is strong.

Where was he? He had been at his desk, right? It was a tiny thing, shoved at the back of the office with no windows, mostly just a box for him to wait at until people could come to him with their IT concerns. Except he wasn't there now; no IT person had this nice of a setup. He was in a corner office, two walls made up entirely of glass, showing off the expansive city skyline that their tall building afforded. Alex blinked. His belongings were on the desk, mahogany rather than plywood. Action figures in their boxes, an iPad on the window, and pictures of his children in their frames. Liam and Lilia at their high school graduations and a picture of his youngest at prom, Brandon. It felt like just yesterday Debby had given birth to him, so why did that kid look so old? 

"Mr. Holden they're on the line," Delana said poking her head into the office. Wasn't she Mr. Walker's assistant, his boss? But no he didn't have a boss, how could someone with an office this nice have a boss? Hesitantly Alex picked up the phone and was met with a cacophony of greetings.

"It's good to have some senior management on this call." A man said, voice slightly distorted from the phone.

"Yes thank you so much for your time, Alexander. We will be brief," said a woman who he felt like he should know.

The two went back and forth talking about shareholders and market strategy all of which went over his head. He instead spent his time scratching his balls which seemed to have swollen even larger. He would need to empty them soon. His seed was made to be spread and got impatient rather quickly. Maybe he would take Christopher up on his request. He could leave work a bit early today, who would stop the boss?

"Mr. Holden, are you still with us?" 

"Oh umm yes yes. Everything sounds great keep up the good work." With that, he hung up the phone. He felt knowledge flooding into his brain, business experience, and social contacts that an IT person had no business knowing. Only he wasn't IT, he hired people to be his IT. He was the top dog of this company. The company that did"¦ he couldn't remember. He would do work tomorrow, right now he was feeling strangely out of sorts, like he didn't belong. 

Alexander stood up on legs that felt too long. He had always been tall but now he felt like a lumbering giant. He was glad for his height, Liam and his other son Brandon were getting far too tall for his liking. Not quite the height of good old dad but definitely too tall for him to put them on his lap. Lila wasn't a slouch either, 5'10, and nearly her brother's height when she wore heels. The thought of his children made him smile, they really were his pride and joy. They had inherited his blond hair, did he have blond hair? Of course, he did, although it was turning silver with age. The rest of his siblings had dark hair like his father but he had inherited his mother's golden locks and passed them onto his children, along with his angular face and tall stature. That wasn't to say that the children didn't have anything from their other parents. Liam had his mother's heart-shaped face, freckles, and warm green eyes, while Lila had inherited Stephanie's wavy hair and intelligence. Brandon his youngest had gotten his other mother's darker complexion and her rebellious spark.

He was something of a bad boy. With tattoos up one arm a handsome face and the soul of a tortured artist, Alex always knew he would be swimming in sexual opportunities. He had tried to explain to him the Holden inheritance. Alex tried to give the same speech his father had, telling his youngest about the strong seed of their family. Alex hadn't listened and neither had Brandon, at least not until he had gotten two girls pregnant. He had been sticking to sex with men ever since, the perks of bisexuality, although Alex suspected there would be a few more grandchildren in his future before his youngest got it all out of his system.

It felt right to be a grandfather, although it seemed only a few hours ago he didn't even have children of his own.

The seed is strong.

Liam his oldest also had children. He was far more restrained than his younger brother though. Liam had settled down with a nice woman a few years older than him who had been married before. She had tried for children with her old husband but after years of trying had resigned herself to being unable to have children. That was until she was with a Holden man. Now they had three children and she was pregnant with a fourth. Liam had confessed to Alex that his wife had gotten pregnant the first time the two had ever been intimate which didn't surprise Alex in the slightest. 

That left only Lila without children of her own. Where Liam had heart and Brandon had soul Lila had gotten all the brains. With a razor tongue and a mind for business, Alex suspected her only child would be the company she was building. Yet who was to say, maybe one day she would end up having children? If she had a boy someone would have to warn her to expect quite a few grandchildren of her own. 

Alex- no Alexander made his way out of the office. He was far too dignified to go by a childhood nickname. Three grown children, how had he become an old man? He passed a mirror and examined his reflection. Square had handsome features, a tall frame, and muscles that pushed out his suit pleasingly. Maybe not quite an old man yet. He puffed up his substantial chest. How many grandfathers could bench 250 lbs?

Come to think of it all brothers currently could, even his oldest brother Mark, who was a great-grandfather at only age 60. Ha. Yet another thing passed on by the Holdens. High metabolism and the genetic potential for substantial musculature. Alex had always suspected it had something to do with their over-productive testicles pumping in an excess of testosterone, although Lila was surely no slouch. Alexander fondly remembered how she could beat both her brothers in arm wrestling contests as children whenever it was his turn to have custody of the kids. 

Still, it was his sons who had inherited the rippling muscular physique of the Holden men. Liam was the larger of the two mostly due to playing football in high school and college. After he graduated Liam started taking his physique seriously and competed in a few bodybuilding shows. Alexander remembered the horror of realizing his 220 lbs son was bigger than him. That caused Alex to redouble his efforts at the gym. That coupled with the fact that Liam stopped competing after he settled down had restored Alexander to the top of the food chain where he belonged. That wasn't to say that Liam let himself go. Liam maintained an admirable body, one that he had confessed to his father made fitting in with the other dads difficult, a sentiment which Alexander could relate to.

"Dad, it's like every dude either wants to feel me up and ask me to be their personal trainer or takes it as an insult and acts like a dick". In Alexanders case, most of the dicks had ended up sucking his but that type of advice could never work for noble pure-hearted Liam. Brandon on the other hand rated perfectly to his father's more horny tendencies. While he didn't have his brother's brutish size Brandon was toned good arms adorned with plenty of tattoos and the abs that only a young man could have. He had done several perfume commercials displaying those abs and his notable bulge across billboards in Times Square to Alexander's shock and secret pride. 

The seed is strong. 

"Are you heading out Mr. Holden?" A young man holding a clipboard asks as Alexander makes his way to the elevator."

"I am Shayne. nature calls, I’m sure you understand." A wide grin split the youth's face and he nodded. Alexander had long suspected Shayne's lineage but looking at him now it seemed undeniable. Tall with a brawny build, Shayne had brown inquisitive eyes, short sandy blond hair, and a well-trimmed dirty blond beard covering his square jaw. To put it bluntly, he was the spitting image of Alexander in his youth. The final clue of course lay beneath the kids well ironed slacks. 

Without violating company policy or his own ethical code as a boss Alexander had tried to check out his new intern's package. Sure enough, he had gotten confirmation at the urinal last week. The kid was sporting an abnormally large pair of balls that could only belong to a Holden man. 

Alexander supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He had started being a sperm donor in college to make a little cash. One test of his seed and the clinic had been positively feral to milk him dry. Once he started moving up in the company the money had meant less to Alexander but he still would occasionally pay a visit to the clinic to donate. He liked the idea that he could help a woman struggling with fertility or allow someone to start a family without relying on a man. He would also be lying if he didn't think it a little hot they have a bunch of mini me's running around as well. His only request was to warn any potential sons of their fertility as odd as that seemed. With the amount he had donated Alexander was bound to come across one of his children at some point although it was still thrilling. It warmed his heart to think he had another son, and one who had grown up to be as responsible and respectful as Shayne. 

He would have to ask Shayne about his father sometime or get him a DNA kit for the holidays. Something that might tip the kid off without coming on too strong. Just because they shared blood did not mean Alexander had a right to be part of his life yet if he would have him, Alexander would gladly have a relationship. 

"We should be all good with preparing for the audit without you. Have a good night sir."

The elevator doors closed blocking sight of his potential son. Alexander took out his phone and brought up messages to Christopher. In the dark elevator, he had trouble reading the screen and even more trouble finding out how to raise the brightness. God if only he could trade his buffalo balls for some IT skills he joked to himself. Eventually, he figured it out and typed out a message. 

"How could I refuse? My place in 20?"

Christopher sent a gif of a mouth watering then an emoji of a man running. Would it be so hard to type out a yes? Alexander wasn't worried about Christopher being busy. Besides the fact that he suspected the man would push his own mother off a cliff for the contents of Alexander's balls, he was also a writer, a job which gave him the luxury of making his own schedule. He mostly wrote YA fiction, some of which were quite well-known. His biggest series was all the rage when the kids were in their teens, meaning they had thought Christopher was the god on earth. Now though Christopher was working on something more adult. An erotica that he claimed was loosely based on his and Alexander's romance. He told the family proudly a few months back he was going to call it "The fountain of eternal cum". Alexander's PR team told him it would be a nightmare if it was published and Lila threatened to take a box cutter to her eyes, and ears too if an audiobook version came out. Still, Alexander had let the project continue, he thought it funny and maybe a little hot.

20 minutes later Alexander reached his building courtesy of his driver and made his way up to his penthouse apartment. Christopher was waiting for him splayed out on a $30,000 couch like a house cat.

"Smelled ya coming." He said, rising from his lounging position and making his way over to his lover. With practiced hands, he pulled Alexander in using his tie as a leach and placed one hand on his broad chest feeling the warmth of Alexander's body through the thin Oxford and undershirt.

When Alexander had first met Christopher he was something of a twink, young with ample curves and smooth skin. That had been over 20 years ago. Now Christopher was more the scruffy writer type, with a cute face adorned with a few wrinkles, thick glasses, and a layer of scraggly stubble. His body wasn't as tight as it had once been but Christopher still had enough in the back, where it really mattered. Alexander didn't begrudge his lover the changes of age. He wasn't the same muscle bull Christopher had fallen in love with either. While he had retained much of his size his age had left him sentimental, the wild bull, been tamed, although it still came out on occasion when his lover was involved. 

"I needed this" Alexander purred leaning into the embrace and planting three long kisses onto Christopher's neck. Christopher pulled his head back savoring the touch. We need to get this off he said, peeling Alexander's suit jacket from his frame. Alexander's back and arms proved too large and made what might have been a sexy process rather unsexy as the two struggled to peel off the garment. Once that was done Christopher went to work on the buttons starting from the stop and working his way down until Alexander stood in an open shirt with only a white sleeveless undershirt beneath. 

"Ugh, why do you wear so many clothes," Christopher said eager to get to his prize. 

"I could say the same thing to you" Alexander rumbled. He took the opportunity to pull off Christopher's chunky cable knit sweater, a process Christopher assisted in by raising his arms. Alexander tried to make things more even by fully removing his button-up shirt but he was still left in a white tank top. His arms were thick solid things bulging with mature muscle, and the lower half covered a dusting of nearly transparent blond hair. His chest pushed out the undershirt significantly, then fell loose around his still mostly flat belly.

"Will you do the thing?" Christopher asked excitedly, a kid asking to go on a roller coaster again. Alexander plastered on a gracious smile then put both hands on either side of the shirt's collar and pulled. It ripped clean down the middle revealing his toned body. Christopher clapped and giggled then and went in for another kiss, their now shirtless bodies rubbing against one another. Alexander suspected hundreds of shirts over the years had perished to Christopher's "favorite trick" but it was worth it to see that look of glee on his face. Besides undershirts weren't particularly expensive, at least he assumed they weren't. His assistant did most of his shopping for him.

"Shall we take this to the bedroom Mr. Holden?" Christopher asked, knowing how formal talk turned Alexander on. In response, Alexander picked his smaller lover up in a fireman's carry and made its way across the penthouse to the bedroom. Along the way, they passed countless family photos framed on walls and coffee tables. Liam was the lead of the high school musical, Lila won the state debate championship, and Brandon posing proudly with graffiti art that spelled out his name. There were picnics and football games, thanksgiving dinners, and volunteering. Three smiling happy golden-haired children, all made from their father. Made from his potent seed, the seed Christopher was about to receive.

Alexander threw Christopher down on the bed and caused him to bounce on the springy mattress. With his manly hands, he gripped Christopher's pants and tried to force them over his voluptuous bottom, getting to his prize at all costs. He could have ripped them off nearly as easily as he had his shirt if not for Christopher's pleas about how much he loved these pants. It felt like it took forever for Christopher to undo his belt, unbutton his pants, and pull the zipper down, only then allowing Alexander to rip them off, taking underwear with it. Christopher had a respectable dick and balls that were he with a different company might be considered large. Yet when with a Holden man it was like comparing an ant to an elephant. Besides, there was really only one thing below the waist Alexander carried about. Not that he was a selfish lover, but rather the two after years of making love had experimented enough to know what they really wanted. "Roll over," he said breathily, his excitement getting the better of him. Now it was his turn to take the time with his pants. 

Plop

His package flopped out into the open like a hot man to a pool. He looked down at his balls and for a moment they seemed obscene. Baseballs attached to the underside of a penis that really wasn't that remarkable.

The seed is strong.

9 inches was at the lower end for size in his family but he really didn't have anything to complain about. Yet another perk of being a Holden man. With their large balls, it only was natural that they have the dick to match. It was a subject less commonly talked about for obvious reasons yet Alexander was no idiot. He had seen his brothers dicks through their pants plenty of times and heard stories from their wives. And his children, well a father can't help but see these things even if he tries not to. Once back when Alexander had still been in college and with Stephanie his father, the patriarch of the family, had gotten a bit too drunk on old fashions and whiskey on the rocks. He had launched into a bit of a rant.

"Oh I had some big dicked brothers, but of all them, mine was the thickest. No, it wasn't the longest, that would be my brother Kendall. We used to call him pencils dick Kendall you know. Foot long but thin as a finger. Looked ridiculous with his big balls. He ended up having eight children though so I guess someone liked that pencil dick." 

The whole family had erupted in laughter at that, much to Stephanie's horror and Alexander's delight. He had inherited that thickness, thickness which Christopher revealed in, tentatively licking the head from his ass up position before taking the whole thing in his mouth. Giving a blow job to someone of Alexander's size wasn't easy but Christopher had something like 20 years of practice. It wasn't just that he could take the whole thing that made Christoper blow jobs great, although that was nice. Rather it was the way he played with Alexander's balls, tickling them caressing them, even taking a break from his dick to suck on them. Alexander always thought he was trying to cut out the middleman and get right to the source of his addiction. He suspected his lover would hook up an IV bag of his seed to drip into his bloodstream if he had the supply.

After a few minutes Christopher got impatient. "I'm ready," he said excitedly turning to face away from Alexander and presenting his ass like a target for practice. Alexander took a bottle of lube from his bedside table and applied it generously to his dick and his lover's hole. There was no point in a condom, they both were clean and besides those did little against determined Holden spunk. Yet lube was essential even after all these years for accommodating his dick. Slowly he inserted his dick, being careful at first. Once he was halfway in Christopher gave him a nod and he sped up, ramming the rest of his member in and then pulling it out almost all the way out with a wet squish. Christopher moaned a high-pitched whine of pleasure and pleaded for more. As Alexander began to thrust he answered with his own sound, a mix between a bellow and a grunt. God, how did he keep his hole so tight? 

"Harder" Christopher panted. Alexander went harder.

Harder!" Christopher said again. Alexander thrust with his hips impaling his partner with all his substantial strength. His full balls slammed against round butt cheeks, the sound keeping time with his thrusts. 

"Harder daddy, breed me. Fucking breed me. Fill me with your seed till I have your fucking baby." Alexander gave it all he had. If Christopher wanted to be bred so bad then he was all too happy to oblige. He obliterated him, pulverized his fucking hole. Pleasured him so thoroughly he might never walk again. He showed his lover how he had created three children, the reason why his family was so prolific. The seed is strong. The seed is strong. The seed is strong.

"The seed is strong." He screamed as he climaxed. His vision went white as his balls emptied like a dam bursting. His dick became a fire hydrant for the torrent of seed that he pumped into Christopher. The two collapsed onto each other, sweaty bodies reveling in the heat, the smell, and the pleasure. They just sat there for a moment, slowly winding down from the passion of the experience. It had felt for a moment like those times back so long ago when Alexander had conceived his children. He knew even then as soon as he had climaxed his seed would quicken. He had felt it in his bones, in his balls. Only obviously that couldn’t be, a figment of his horny imagination perhaps. 

With a start, Alexander realized his dick was still inside of Christopher, half hard and plugging his hole like a drain stopper. He removed himself with a popping sound and caused a torrent of cum to spill out of Christopher. Christopher reached around and scooped it up onto his hand before licking them clean and moaning like he had just had a cold cone in the summertime. He went in for a kiss and Alexander got a taste of his own seed. It was indeed strong, like raw masculinity. Salty musky and somehow sweet, Alexander understood why Christopher had developed a taste for it. He could somehow tell that every single swimming sperm in his mouth could create a child if given a chance, ones who would be as beautiful as the ones he had now. The thought made him feel like Chronos from Greek mythology gobbling up his children whole.

"Even more amazing than usual," Christopher said once the two had broken their kiss. "I swear Alexander you are a fine wine. You just get better with age." He excused himself to use the bathroom leaving Alexander lying alone on his spoiled sheets. It was funny how much sex defined his life. It was sex that had brought him his children, the lights of his life. Sex that had brought him Christopher, his life partner and husband. Even his business, the largest contraceptive company in the country. It would be quite the scandal if it came out that their CEO could bust right through their condoms with his seed. Alexander supposed it was inevitable that his life revolved around sex. He had always been told the seed was strong and had always taken it literally. Yet it went beyond hyperactive balls. The men of his family seemed practically bred to breed, with their faces and their bodies not the mention the dicks and strong libido, it was inevitable that the Holden men lived and breathed sex. He wondered what in the family's past had happened to create such a strong seed. Was there some kind of curse placed on their family by a disgruntled prehistoric witch? Or maybe one of Alexander's ancestors was some kind of genetically mutated freak. Could they be a different species? With the rate they were going the whole world might be Holden men in a few centuries. 

Alexander had to laugh. The things he thought about in his post-nut state were always strange but he must have really needed this if he was thinking about witches and a future of only Holden humans. Besides Alexander had found a loophole, homosexuality. Not of course before before he had spawned three and potentially hundreds more through donation. Still with Christopher at least he knew he was safe. The seed was strong but it wasn't that strong. 

"HONEY. I think I'm pregnant" Christopher yelled from inside the bathroom waving a positive pregnancy test excitedly.

Shit. The seed is strong.

Hope you enjoyed, been sitting on this one for a while. I wrote an epilogue too that more comedic then hot, but i would post that too if anyone is interested.

[johnbrand]

Profile Picture

Anthony had been avoiding it for over a week and now the social media manager was getting antsy. All the new frat members were supposed to submit a picture to be introduced in profiles online. It made sense, but Anthony just did not have any good pictures of himself. Typically, people sent in their senior pictures, but Anthony had not had any taken. The last decent portrait he owned was from junior year when he had had braces.

“UGH!” Anthony sighed loudly, exasperated as he locked himself into a bathroom. Worst part of it all was that he could not escape the issue because he LIVED with these people. He had run into three of the other frat boys on the way here, one of whom insisted on shaking hands as he flew by. Typically, Anthony was short enough to literally hide; people would just overlook him so that he could scurry away unnoticed. But now he was trapped, making a deal out of something that probably should not have been in the first place. 

“If only I had been narcissistic enough to have taken a selfie once in my life,” Anthony groaned.

Suddenly, his phone lit up with a new notification. A text from a contact named “Michael.”

“Hey dude, it was great to meet you,” it read. Anthony wondered how the blond jock he had just met in the hallway already had his number. Let alone, why. Most people seemed to be put off by his personality, especially the hot, muscular ones. Anthony’s height was also a deterrent, as was his weight. Well actually, just about anything else one could think of. 

“How did you get my number?” Anthony adjusted his glasses almost subconsciously.

“Got it last night from you at the party,” came the reply. “Must’ve knocked you out pretty hard if you don’t remember.”

For a moment Anthony was not sure what Michael meant. He had only rushed this frat for the bullet point on his resume; he would have never gone to a college party. Or at least Anthony could not imagine having gone to one.

“Don’t you remember? That chick Nicole was all over you. I couldn’t help but get jealous.” Michael sent a laughing emoji before continuing. “She’s always been into the tall, ‘All-American’ kinda man.”

Anthony laughed as he checked himself out in the mirror. He did fit that bill pretty well. His body was practically built by the Midwest; corn-fed and stacked with beef. Anthony worked out all the time to maintain his thick-yet-polished frame. And at 6’3, all the muscle made Anthony appear even larger. He was almost always staring down at others, but that was just natural for men his size. 

“Yeah she was pretty crazy,” Anthony awkwardly replied. He had told her countless times that he simply did not swing that way. “I’m just glad someone else noticed. She had no chill, man.”

“She’s got a real hankering for the blond-hair, blue-eyes combo. It’s like something that really sets her off. You might get yourself a stalker if you’re not careful.”

Anthony’s smile broadened. Had Nicole really been that easy to read? Yeah, his sparkling sapphire eyes and luscious golden locks were usually enthralling, that was why he never covered them up. But that girl had really been on to him last night–more than Anthony was used to from others. “I could probably handle a girl like her.”

“I know. I’m just teasing,” Michael replied quickly. “I know you like when a girl is crazy for you anyway, all that attention goes right to the big boy downstairs.”

That text confused Anthony at first, but after a quick squeeze to his thickening python, he felt himself agreeing.

“What can I say,” Anthony smirked, continuing to paw himself. “I like to have a good girl who understands her place.

“Now stop fagging out on yourself in the mirror and get out here!" Michael responded. "This new pool is sick, and all the sorority chicks are here in their skimpiest bikinis.”

That final line made Anthony’s juicy dick spurt a bit into his tight, American-flag print swim shorts. Cockily, he posed in front of the mirror and took a picture of his studly body. Anthony then sent it to Michael before hurriedly exiting the bathroom. By the time Michael had forwarded the image onto the social media manager, Anthony had already acclimated into the pool, a swarm of hungry girls eagerly surrounding him.

[hai7ani]

familiar / haitani rindou

Haitani Rindou turns 32, gets married, and he silently wonders why people are so nice to him now.

the old retired ladies promoting milk powders and selling fresh fruits in the grocery store rushes up to him at any chance they get. one time when browsing for milk formulas one of them had tapped him on the shoulder, pointed at a brand she was not promoting for but thought was amazing when her own grandchild had tried it, and then placed a bunch of other stuff in his cart that she thinks his wife would need. an example would be containers of freshly cut mixed fruits that her colleague had just prepared. you remember him telling you that her tone was a lot more different than the average grocery store promoter trying to sell you a product ー it was almost as if she was talking to her own son.

when shopping for flowers just like he does every Sunday suddenly the part-timer who is usually silent, does her job and only responds to customers' needs had stepped up to him and pointed out a few selections that she believes are lovely for expecting parents. she was even smiling when doing so. and you remember he came home to you that day with two bouquets of fresh flowers ー chrysanthemum and baby's breath ー one in each hand.

today when taking you out for dinner in the local family-owned restaurant the daughter had served you a warm bowl of beef bone soup. neither of you had ordered it for yourselves, and you were about to tell her that, but her mother speaks before you can. "drink it, love. the soup is good for you." she yells a little from where she sits at the cashier with a grin. when Rindou stands to pay after finishing up her husband then refuses to take your bill for the night. "it's okay, son. dinner's on the house this time." he pats his shoulder and pushes you both out the door. "take care, you two. the next time you come i'll cook tofu for you, alright?" it was directed to you and you'd laughed, a little embarrassed but feeling warm and fuzzy nonetheless.

and now you are listening to your own husband ramble on and on about his new mysteries while he massages your feet on the couch.

"i seriously don't get it. i've been going to these places for years now and they were never this nice to us. i mean, they are nice, but never this nice, you know? it's the first time we've ever gotten a free meal from Kobayashi's."

we. us.

you brush his hair back, admiring the light wrinkles that have started to form on his skin. "that's exactly it, don't you think?" you bring it up and he hums in confusion.

"perhaps the reason why they've been so nice lately is exactly because you've been going to these places for years now. they know you."

"huh?"

"if you think about it, they've watched you go from an ordinary man to a husband, then a father. watched you bring a girl they've never seen before to these places more often and suddenly we go together all the time, you have a ring on your finger and i am pregnant. perhaps it is why. a sense of familiarity, maybe?"

Rindou looks at you as if you are love and warmth and everything pink and red and blue and purple and-

you are right, actually. you'd went from a girl he met at a bar to becoming the love of his life, the woman who is now carrying the love you both share. and the ladies at the grocery store, the Kobayashi's, the part timer who's been around even after graduating university years ago? they've all watched him grow.

when Rindou was 17 and had gotten ambushed by a rival gang alone, it was madam Kobayashi who'd ushered him into their store way past the last call and offered to cook him a nice meal, had her medical student son patch him up, her husband to chase away the remaining guys who were waiting for Rindou to come back out. her daughter had been about Rindou's age then, hiding behind the cashier and watching as he ate in silence with a cut to his lip, another on his eyebrow. (to this day still no one except for you, her, and him, knows that the reason he'd gotten ambushed that day was because he'd stood up for miss Kobayashi when she was getting bullied by one of the delinquents. she still thanks him for what he'd done whenever you both finish up your meal and get ready to leave.) Rindou was 17 when he'd first discovered what it was like to care for people; to be a human before anything else.

the two ladies from the grocery store wasn't yet retired and working this job back then. the promoter lady used to be the janitor who was working in the office building of his first job. she'd watched him gone through periods of unknowing, confusion, stress, to become a solid man of status today. the lady who is selling fruits used to work as a professional tutor and had been the one to tutor Rindou and his brother on Mathematics. although she is mute and can't respond in words when her students have confusing questions to ask, the brothers still thought of her as a good teacher because of the way she taught, which is why they'd stuck around and refused to switch teachers despite their parents' disapproval. because she is mute, she can only count on her colleague to dump containers of freshly cut fruits into his cart while motioning for her to tell him things that she actually wants to say to him whenever he visits the store.

the part timer at the florist is a lot younger than he is, but she have been working there for a very long time. watched him when he was still an inexperienced bachelor pacing around the store wondering which flower would be good on a first date to buying the same flowers every Sunday because you'd liked the lilies that she recommended.

it'd be heartwarming for anyone to see the boy you watch grow around love, into love, finding love, to marrying her and becoming a father.

"...yeah. maybe."

[allur1ngs]

✮ enflame ✮

TW: bada being too fine for her own good, a little bit of possessive!bada, lots of protective!bada, cold!bada (to anyone who isn't you), super brief mentions of violence, bada having beef w your bodyguard, pushy men, btw the picture to the farthest right is purely for aesthetics and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!!

SUMMARY: you manage to tear bada away from her work for an evening of shopping, where the soft spot she has for you is unveiled.

part iii. bloody knuckles

WC: 2.9k

A/N: read this for more background on this au. this is not exactly a part two to the headcanons but i got this idea out of nowhere so yeahhh

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada's actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

From the moment Bada arose from her slumber, she sensed that her day would be draining. Usually, waking up before the sun had the chance to peak above the horizon wasn't difficult for her—so many years of doing so had made sleep fatigue all too familiar. However, last night, she stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning, something she typically tried to avoid.

So when her body starts to naturally wake up only a few hours later, she groans loudly into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut and mentally cursing her past self for staying up so late.

Although all she wants is to stay in bed more than anything, she forces herself to rise from her plush king-sized bed and tosses the warm sheets aside.

Briefly, she turns around to gaze at the spot where she had just been lying when a thought strikes her. You must be asleep in your own bedroom. Curled up in a similar, large bed, a pocket of heat cradling your figure while your chest slowly rises and falls. Your eyes must be tightly shut, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to remain asleep despite the rays of sunlight that will soon begin to peek through your curtains. Your soft lips must be pursed together. Your lips...

Bada wishes you both shared the same bed. She wishes she hadn't been so courteous to buy you a new bed, comfortable sheets, and all the amenities you needed when you first arrived. She wishes instead that you were lying in her bed. She wishes she could wrap her arms around you, and pull you close whilst you slept. She wishes she could foster a beautiful heat between your two bodies. She wishes she could run her fingers across your skin--

Bada shakes her head, sighs loudly, and turns away sharply from her bed. She rubs her eyes as she makes her way over to her dresser, mumbling berating words under her breath for thinking of you in such a way. It's not appropriate and beyond that, those types of thoughts lead to feelings, which she does not--cannot have for you.

Bada's day seems to worsen after dressing herself in her usual attire, a freshly ironed black suit and slacks. The fabric touches her uncomfortably, and still feeling the edges of sleep mar her vision, everything is suddenly bothering her.

But the final nail in the coffin is when Lusher, one of Bebe's most trusted mafia members, walks into her office hours later, carrying a tray of breakfast.

Immediately looking up from the papers in front of her, Bada expects to see your lovely face greet her, but is met with Lusher's cheeky expression instead. She tries not to display her palpable disappointment, but concealing her feelings has never quite been her strong suit. Her mother had told her this many times when she was younger.

"Don't jump out of your seat in excitement, now." Lusher jokes, placing the breakfast tray on the desk.

Bada's lips tighten into a firm, thin line as she stares down at the food, feeling her hunger quickly escape her. "Thanks."

"I know I'm not who you wanted to see, but I can't lie, your disappointment hurts me." Lusher moves a hand to her chest, acting like she'd been wounded.

Bada sighs, shaking her head. "Why isn't she here this morning?"

"Still in bed, apparently." Lusher clasps her hands behind her back. "We found her asleep on the couches late last night. She must have been waiting for you to leave your office so she could wish you a good night, but ended up falling asleep out of exhaustion."

The butterflies that dance in Bada's stomach internally, are a stark contrast to the disapproving expression she wears externally. "I've told her many times not to wait up for me. It's not healthy to be staying up so late."

Lusher sighs dramatically. "You're telling me. How many times have I asked you to head to bed earlier?"

"That's different." Bada denies while picking up her golden ink pen and continuing to write. "I have work to do. Waiting so late into the morning just to wish me a good night is..."

"Sweet? Incredibly kind, and definitely a testament to how endearing your fiancée is?"

Bada clicks her tongue in annoyance. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have something better to do than bothering me?"

"You know there's nothing I like more than bothering you." Lusher shoots back with a sly smile.

Bada tried to continue working, she really did. She attempted to push through filling out papers, even though her wrist was screaming at her to take a break. However, come midday, she was already fed up.

Ruffling her hair and groaning loudly, Bada stands up from her table, the chair she'd been sitting out whining loudly against the floor. She wastes no time in shuffling to the door, grabbing the handle, and pulling it open.

Right when she does, she catches a flash of your figure walking down the hall toward her, your bodyguard only a few paces behind you. As her gaze connected with yours, she felt as if the world transformed, shifting from monochrome sketches to vibrant watercolor paintings

"Oh." You speak first, an easy smile finding your lips. "Good afternoon, Bada."

"Good afternoon." She greets back, trying her damnedest not to sound overjoyed at your presence. "Were you coming to see me?"

"I was." You nod. "I just wanted to let you know I'm planning on going to the mall."

"Are you now?" Bada says absentmindedly, her hand coming up to clutch at her tie and loosen it. The fabric suddenly feels much too tight around her neck.

"Yes..." You trail off, your eyes taking in how Bada's pale and lithe fingers grab at her tie and jostle it around, making it dangle a bit messily across her collarbones. Such a simple action should not be so attractive, no--it shouldn't. It's really ridiculous how easy it is for your fiancée to be so naturally alluring.

"That sounds nice." She hums. "Are you looking to buy something in particular?"

"No, not really." You shake your head. "I'm really just going to look around, and not stay at home all day."

Home. Bada's heart warms at you calling the mansion you both reside in your home. Although it technically is, it's different for you to perceive it as such. It means you feel comfortable here, with her--living with her--

"You should come with me." Your voice brings Bada out of her stupor, her eyes immediately finding yours.

Her mouth opens and closes dumbly, a clear look of shock painted across her face. She tries to quickly gather her bearings, half-heartedly muttering out, "I--I wish I could, but I have a lot of work to do--"

"Bada, all you do is work," you remark, crossing your arms over your chest. She has to force herself not to think about how cute you look doing so. "You deserve to have some downtime. Even if it is only for a few hours."

She stands there, still a bit shell-shocked, staring at you before her eyes shift to the figure behind you, finding your bodyguard, who is trying very hard to conceal her amused smile behind a shaky hand.

Bada's gaze turns icy as she eyes down your bodyguard, prompting the subordinate to immediately turn away and dispel her smile. "All right. I'll come with you."

"Wait, really?" You awe, your eyes going wide and your smile growing. "I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

"Well, you're right. I do need a break. At the rate I'm working at now, I'll never do anything productive by the end of the day." Bada admits with a tired smile. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yes." You begin to nod, but your smile slowly turns into a frown. "But you should change into different clothing."

For the second time that day, Bada is left surprised by your boldness. "Change? Why?"

"Don't you want to wear something other than a suit for once?" You ask innocently. "It seems... stuffy to be in it all day."

"Stuffy." She laughs breathily. "I guess you're right." Bada looks between you and your bodyguard. "Will you be all right to wait for me?"

"Of course." You smile.

"Great." She smiles back.

When Bada comes back, she isn't wearing her usual black suit. And although you'd been the one to suggest it, you're not quite ready for how amazing she looks in casual clothing.

A black leather jacket is draped over her shoulders, with slick white lines running down the sleeves and across the chest. She has paired the jacket with matching black leather pants and a black shirt.

In that moment, you want to scream at whatever higher power exists for making your fiancée so unfairly attractive. How were you supposed to act normal around her when her mere presence makes you hot below the collar?

Well, despite your internal struggles you give her a compliment before you're off to the mall, hopping into a sleek black sports car and speed away.

Your first destination in the large mall is a relatively luxurious clothing store. You can't lie; you had wanted to go into the store since you passed it on one of your trips to the mall without Bada, but you were too intimidated to enter. However, now, with her by your side, you feel much more comfortable stepping into the expensive store.

Approaching the door, your bodyguard begins to step forward, about to open the door for you like she always does, but Bada is quicker. She grabs onto the handle and opens the door, stepping aside to make room for you to walk in.

You look at her and smile while mumbling a soft thank you, to which she gives you a small smile back and nods. Your bodyguard begins to walk in after you, but again Bada is faster and enters the store, letting the door swing closed behind her. It almost hits your bodyguard in the face, making her flinch back and sigh.

"Keep a look out from there," Bada tells her sternly through the glass doors.

"Yes, Boss," your bodyguard begrudgingly mumbles back, understanding that this is payback for teasing your fiancée earlier.

Bada turns back around, her eyes easily finding you in the small crowd of people. You're looking around the store with wide eyes, a smile gracing your lips as you observe the embellished clothing around you. She smiles fondly to herself, finding every expression of yours much too cute for your own good.

However, before she can make her way to you, the familiar sound of a voice greets her from behind. Turning around, she finds In-Su, one of her business partners and the owner of the clothing store. Greeting him back, an air of professionalism immediately envelops her as she begins to engage in conversation with him

Meanwhile, you're in your own personal heaven. The clothing you've been browsing is exactly your style, and despite the high prices, you know you can afford it all, thanks to the black credit card Bada had gifted you.

A few minutes later, your hands are already starting to get full as you reach to pull another article of clothing from the rack when you suddenly feel a firm force push into your side, causing you to lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. making you lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. Thankfully, you manage to steady yourself before you do, huffing while turning to your right to see what--or more accurately who--had bumped into you.

"Excuse me." A well-dressed man stands a few feet away from you, his lips forming a snobbish frown.

Despite your irritation, you instinctively apologize. "Oh, sorry--"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. "You should be careful where you stand."

Internally, you scoff at the man, but externally, you only mumble another half-hearted apology before turning away and walking down another aisle.

"Have I seen you before?" The man follows after you.

"I don't think so." You answer back flatly, trying to ignore him and busy yourself by flipping through pairs of jackets.

"I swear I've seen you before. I never forget the face of a beautiful woman."

This time, you're unable to control your expression and outwardly cringe. Is this random man who bumped into you flirting with you right now? After acting so rude?

You say nothing to him in response, choosing to completely ignore him instead.

"You know, when someone compliments you, it's common courtesy to say thank you."

Now you're starting to get increasingly anxious. You don't feel brave enough to confront the man, but he doesn't seem to understand that you're not interested and clearly uncomfortable with his advances.

Taking your silence in offense, the man scowls before grabbing your wrist rather roughly, making you drop all the clothing you'd been holding, and twists you around to face him.

You gasp at his painful hold, attempting to break away from him but unable to due to the sheer strength of his grip. "Let me--" you begin, but the words die in your mouth upon seeing someone standing behind him.

The man, who had been staring you down, notices the shift in your expression and suddenly becomes aware of a very strong presence behind him. He turns around, still gripping your wrist, and comes face to face with a scarily calm Bada Lee.

"Do you need something?" He snaps at her dumbly.

Bada stares down at him with steely eyes, her expression so devoid of emotion you're almost terrified for him. "I believe I should be asking you that question. Is there a reason why you're touching my fiancée?"

The man looks between you and Bada, scoffing disapprovingly. "Tch, she didn't tell me she was engaged."

"Even if she wasn't, in what world would it be appropriate to touch a woman who clearly isn't interested in your pathetic advances like that?" She asks rhetorically, her voice rising with every syllable. Clearly, her anger was getting to her.

The man grits his teeth, feeling his ego bruise because not only is Bada embarrassing him, but she's also easily intimidating him with her presence. "Hey, just who do you think you are?" He raises his voice to match hers.

"I think the real question is," Bada takes a step closer, leaving hardly any space between her and him, "who the fuck do you think you are?"

In that moment, the man's entire demeanor shifts. He turns to look around the store, finding every shopper, worker, and even the store owner staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes set into firm glares. Some of them have their hands in their pockets or are grabbing something hidden next to them. His face pales, and looking back at Bada, her face starts to become familiar. He hadn't recognized her out of her normal formal attire, but now--

He gulps, quickly letting go of your wrist like your skin burned him and steps away from you both, his posture shrinking. He starts to make his way toward the exit, attempting to ignore the stares of everyone in the store but is stopped before he can make it out.

"And where do you think you're going?" Bada's hardened voice echoes through the store, making the man freeze in his spot, his entire body going rigid.

Bada's footsteps slowly approach him from behind again and stop just shy of him.

"You made her drop her clothing."

The man turns around, avoiding eye contact with Bada and finding your eyes instead. He's about to mumble an apology when she speaks up again.

"Pick it up." She demands flatly.

The man stays still in his spot, shocked and embarrassed. But clearly, he didn't move fast enough for Bada's liking, because he feels himself get shoved in your direction, almost falling onto his face.

"Do it. Now." She says, her voice bordering on yelling.

Immediately, the man throws himself onto the floor, scrambling to pick up every article of clothing he made you drop. He does so as quickly as possible, then stands up, about to pass you the clothing, when he feels Bada's unwavering gaze bore into him and decides it's in his best interest not to touch you anymore, so he carefully drapes the clothes across your arms.

He turns back to face Bada, approaching her with a cold sweat.

"Hold on." She stops him yet again. "You bumped into her, didn't you?"

"I--" He tries to explain himself but is cut off.

"Apologize."

This time, the man wastes no time in fulfilling her demands. He turns to you, apologizing profusely while shaking like a leaf. You're unable to even think about accepting his apologies before he practically runs to the store doors, throws them open, trying to leave the mall. But as always, Bada is ten steps ahead.

She nods at your bodyguard, who grabs onto the man's suit with little effort, turns him around, and punches him straight in the gut.

Bada then steps in front of you, blocking you from seeing what your bodyguard is doing to the man. Her hands grab the clothing from your arms, relieving you of their weight before slinging them across her right shoulder. She then gently holds your wrist up to her eyes, the ice behind them shifting to a warm and caring glow.

"Does it hurt?" She asks softly.

You feel your body turn to mush at the attention she gives you. "A little."

Bada sighs, leans in, and places her soft lips against your wrist, kissing it with a reverence and sweetness everyone besides you is surprised to see.

It's clear to everyone that the ice around Bada's heart melts only for you.

enflame: to excite to excessive or uncontrollable action or feeling

[bee-writes-wbb]

Paige and maybe like drunk confessions and NSFW

Omg you’re my first request! I didn’t mean for it to take this long, but I kept starting over and going different directions!

We’ll See

Summary: Paige spills her beans after one too many.

Warnings: NSFW (🔞)

Topics/Tags/Themes/Tropes: Drunk Confessions (🍷), Friends to Lovers (💕)

You could barely hear Ice next to you over the thumping music. You, Paige, and the rest of the team had gone for drinks after practice, trying to enjoy your last few days before classes started. Paige had been quieter than usual both at practice and at the bar, initially nursing just one “dirty Shirley.” It wasn’t until Aubrey ordered a round of shots and then another that Paige seemed to snap out of her funk. She was now draped over you, yelling the lyrics to a rap song in your ear as the bass boomed around you.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” She hung off of you lazily from behind, her blonde hair tickling the side of your face. You swayed with her as she she rocked back and forth, laughing at how unsteady she had become. When she was quiet for a moment, you honestly thought she’d fallen asleep until you felt her lips on your shoulder.

“I wish you were my girlfriend though. Do you ever wish that?” She whispered against you. You froze at her words, suddenly feeling very sober despite the two tiny empty glasses in front of you. Before you could say anything, Paige disappeared, running off with someone’s phone and personally pestering each table of people in the bar.

You knew how she got when she was drunk-clingy, friendly, talkative- but even after all of the years you’d known her, she’d never said something like that. You spent the rest of the night trying not to overthink what she’d said until it was time to go.

KK and Ice rounded up the team, trying desperately to make sure everyone got back to their rooms without incident. When you finally got back, Paige flopped onto the couch the second she got inside, resting across your lap as soon as you sat down.

As her soft snores grew louder, you stroked her hair and replayed what she’d said over and over again. It would’ve been unfair to take her words at face value when you knew she was drunk, but you couldn’t stop the pieces from clicking in your mind.

You two had been best friends since your first summer session at UConn, never going a day without speaking to one another since then. There were times where you thought you two could’ve been more, but you always pushed those thoughts away, knowing how messy things could get and not even knowing if she liked you back. But that never stopped your heart from pounding in your chest when she held your waist, or rested her hand on your thigh when you were sitting next to one another. And it take away how you felt when Paige cooked you breakfast on your birthday and told you that it didn’t bother her to wake up at 5 AM to cook for you because she just wanted to make you happy. You could’ve sworn that her hugs now lasted a little longer and were a little tighter than they used to be, but you shook it off because that’s all it was. But you’d noticed other things, too, that made you pause like Paige’s new habit of falling asleep in your bed, or the way she always stared at you when you were talking. Still, you could never be too sure if the things you were noticing were true or if you just desperately wanted them to be.

KK calling out to you snapped you out of your thoughts. “Say hi to the live.”

“Hi live,” you called, shifting to ensure that Paige was just out of view.

KK and Ice bickered back and forth, having playful arguments that they asked fans to mediate as you sat in the background. They finally settled their fight and after much prompting from the audience, decided to go around the room, professing their love to each of their teammates, proving that there was no beef.

“I love you!” Ice yelled to you across the room.

“I love you too, Ice. I also love you,KK.” You laughed.

“I love you,” muttered a voice from underneath you, earning a laugh from the whole room.

“I love you too, Paige.” You giggled despite feeling like you might throw up.

Suddenly Paige sat up from your lap and stared at you. “No, I love you. Like I really really love you.” She said. It felt like world stopped as you looked at her. You knew she still had to be drunk, but eyes had never looked clearer. She took your silence as a chance to keep going.

“Like I love you in a different way than I love them,” she rambled. “I love you like-“

You cut her off before she could continue, getting up and dragging her to her feet. You pulled her into her room shutting the door quickly behind you as you heard Ice and KK try to pretend that it all meant nothing.

“Paige, what are you doing?”

“You don’t love me back?” Her blue eyes welled up with tears as she sat on her bed, staring at you, waiting for an answer.

“You’re drunk right now.” You said, trying not to let your own tears spill over.

“I’m not that drunk.” She protested, wiping the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. Despite being the person on the team that always had a solution, you didn’t know what to do. You so desperately wanted to tell her that you did love her back, in all of the ways that she loved you. But neither of you were in any state to have that discussion at the moment. Aside from you both being friends for so long, you both were still teammates and at this time next year, both of you would be traveling the country with different WNBA teams, and who knows how either of you would feel.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I promise” you said, walking over to pull the covers back for her to climb in. She nodded defeatedly as she laid down and tucked the covers around her, falling asleep before you even made it fully out of the door. You hurried past Ice and KK and up the stairs to your own room before falling asleep yourself.

You finally woke up when your third alarm went off the next morning, making the pounding in your head worse. You glanced at your phone, seeing that you only had a few minutes before you had to be out of the door, and got dressed as quickly as you could, ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach, realizing you would have to see Paige.

You ran out of the door, making it just in time to avoid getting yelled at. Paige stood a few spots down from you and didn’t even bother to glance at you as you walked up. The tension between you two was palpable for the entire practice, earning you a few side eyes from your teammates and a pointed, but not specific lecture about professionalism and not letting off-court business affect on-court business after Paige’s 10th missed shot in a row and your constant fumbling.

You took your time in the shower, letting everyone clear out, to avoid having to answer any questions about last night. When you thought everyone had left, you got out and got dressed. Just as you grabbed your bag to leave, you felt a tug on the strap pulling you back.

“Sit.” Paige demanded while still avoiding eye contact with you.

As much as you wanted to protest, you took a seat on the bench behind you, trying desperately to ignore the way your heart fluttered as Paige slid next to you. You both sat for a moment, looking at nothing in particular, listening to the water drip from the shower head in the other room. After what felt like an eternity, Paige finally spoke.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted, her usually dazzling eyes looking dull underneath her sadness. “I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. And it makes it worse that we had an audience. And I put you on the spot like that. Even though you don’t feel the same, I just hope that you’ll still be my friend.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” Her head whipped towards you the second the statement left your mouth.

“What? When I asked if you loved me back last night, you just left.”

“I didn’t ‘just leave.’ Neither of us were in the right space to talk about that last night, Paige. I do feel the same way about you and I have for a long time-“

She didn’t bother to let you finish, ducking her head slightly and bringing her lips to yours. Her hand found the back of your head, locking you in place as your mouths moved back and forth. After a moment she dropped her head again, leaving a trail of kisses across your jawline and down your neck.

Paige pulled you into her lap, kissing back and forth between your shoulder and the base of your neck. Each kiss sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as her fingertips toyed with the hem of your shirt. You craned your neck to bring your lips back to hers, forgetting all about the slight strain you felt when her tongue slid across yours. Her fingers snaked their way up your shirt and played with the band of your bra before fully diving underneath. At first, both of her hands massaged your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples as she rolled each one between her fingers, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. Then she moved to your thighs, digging her fingertips into your soft skin. You could feel her smirk against you as you desperately guided her hands from your thighs to the waistband of your shorts.

You could barely feel her fingers at first as they ghosted over your clothed center, moving back and forth, teasing you. You let out a whimper, giving her confirmation to go further and she finally slid her fingers over your bare center.

You moaned into her mouth as she applied gentle pressure to your clit in circular motions. Your hips followed the rhythm of her two fingers intensifying the feeling building in your stomach. She dragged her fingers from your clit to your folds, covering them with juices before she entered you.

Your head fell back against hers as she finally entered you with one finger, adding another as you adjusted. You continued to move your hips against her as she curled her fingers in and out of you. She started slowly and increased her pace as your moans grew more and more frequent. She loved the way her name spilled off of your tongue and the way your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to hold yourself together.

“Oh my god, Paige” you whined, not caring who might hear. Her other hand trailed back under your shirt giving your nipples a squeeze one last time. The sensation of her hands roaming your body combined with her plunging in and out of you sent you over the edge. You pushed back into her as your body clenched around her, finally reaching your peak. She slowed her motions inside of you, letting you come down and catch your breath before she pulled out of you. Paige brought her fingers to her lips and sucked your juices off of them, savoring the taste of you.

“You taste so good,” she groaned. “See?” She pulled your head to hers, placing a deep kiss on your lips, giving you a taste of yourself.

You both sat for a moment, unmoving, while processing what you’d just done. Neither of you were upset about it, but you knew that a lot of big conversations would need to happen to make sense of it all.

“Paige-“ you started only to be interrupted by the door opening on the other side of the room. You both quickly scrambled from the precarious position you were in, trying not to make it obvious what you had just done.

KK walked in quickly, startled by the both of you. “Oh, hey. I grabbed the wrong shoes earlier.” She said, walking to her locker. “Did y’all talk?”

“Yeah, we talked.” Paige responded, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… what’s gonna happen now?” KK asked, looking between the two of you.

“We’ll see.” You said, finally throwing your bag across your shoulders.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 179 }

company.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ let's end each other's lonely nights | be each other's paradise | need a picture for my frame | someone to share my reign… }

you walked to school in the early hours of the morning, simply looking down at the novel you were reading in your hand. a smile paints your features the more you basked and read each scene, and as you were in the midst of turning the page, you felt a strange sensation creeping up on you-

the sensation of being followed.

your steps begin to slow just then, unaware of the large hand that reaches out to you-

as sung jinwoo lets out a rich chuckle of your name, wrapping an arm around you as he brings you closer to the front of his chest.

“morning, angel.” he purrs into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you give him a playful pout, lightly pushing yourself away from him.

you missed the lost expression seen in his gaze the moment you pulled away from him, trying to calm down your racing heart as you smoothed down the skirt of your uniform.

with a cough, you put your novel back within the confines of your bag, choosing instead to walk side-by-side with jinwoo to school.

you and jinwoo had a special relationship-

this didn’t mean that you two were a couple or anything, oh no.

what you meant was that you still had memories of another life with jinwoo…

where you and him were both hunters, taking on raids while supporting each other throughout it all.

jinwoo was your best friend during those times; he helped train you, a mere b-rank hunter, making you more proficient in your raids as you slowly rose up the ranks, given you freedom to attend more high level raids despite never being able to level up like he could.

your memories became a little hazy after the war, and once jinwoo used the cup of reincarnation one last time-

you found yourself being 14 again, living with your parents and little brother in your humble home. perhaps what came as the most shocking to you was how you retained all of your memories.

which was why you felt so happy when you and jinwoo ended up going to the same high school together. he was a great source of comfort during the times when memories of your past life became too much to bear.

ah, but you were getting ahead of yourself-

you’ve since then gotten better at dealing with the hardships of your past life, even getting the tiniest bit upset when jinwoo admitted to taking on all the monarchs on his own, spending a total of 27 years within some strange, dimensional rift. you knew that he had won the war all on his own while telling you how he succeeded his mission, now living his life as a normal human despite how truly godlike he was.

jinwoo’s knuckles were suddenly felt being gently placed against the top of your head. “you’re dozing off again.”

“what? i am not dozing off, woowoo.”

a blush immediately paints his features when you refer to him by that stupid nickname. “h-hey, that nickname is dumb as hell, and that’s not even how you pronounce my name! the ‘woo’ in ‘jinwoo’ is more subtle than that, like a soft ~u.”

“heh, whatever, woowoo…!”

you giggle when his eyes flash purple in annoyance, running to catch up to you, but all while hiding his grin.

you would never know the depths of his feelings for you, and that fact alone was killing the shadow monarch on the inside.

{ … }

you and jinwoo end up enjoying lunch together back in the classroom, with you taking casual sips of your juice.

“so do you have track practice today?”

jinwoo takes a rice ball from your lunch box as you stole a piece of his bulgogi beef. “yeah, i do.”

“hehe, did you want me to hang out with you on the field?”

a soft smile paints jinwoo’s features, “if you don’t mind, then yeah. i could use your company.”

a teasing grin paints your expression, “you still trying to get with cha hae-in?”

jinwoo chokes on his rice ball, “w-what the- you know about that?!”

“what? it’s so obvious that you’re still into her! want me to look her up and give you her number or something?”

you giggle in response, basking in jinwoo’s embarrassed expression. you recall how jinwoo was pretty much dating cha hae-in in the original timeline, and they were truly such a cute couple in your eyes!

two of the most renowned s-rank hunters taking on high level gates, never once failing their missions or goals. because of jinwoo’s blossoming romance, you, being simply labeled as his best friend, took a step back and gave them the space they needed in order to let their romance bloom.

and now, with time going backwards due to jinwoo’s actions, you were certain he was going to try and capture her heart once more, leaving you more than willing to play as his wingwoman once more.

despite your playful words, jinwoo appeared uncomfortable, shifting his rice around his lunch box with his chopsticks, eyebrows furrowed in response. noticing the change in his demeanor, you softly ask him, “are you okay?”

your question snaps him out of his reveries. “i’m fine. here, you can have the rest of my lunch… i’ll be right back.”

you could tell something was wrong with jinwoo, watching as he stood up a bit too fast for your liking when you stop him, allowing your hand to wrap around his wrist. “wait, where are you going?”

he looks down at you with gentle grey eyes, allowing the pad of his thumb to grace at your cheek as he wiped away an imaginary stain. after that simple touch, he points to your empty juice bottle.

“i was going to get you more juice. are you opposed to it?”

your eyes go wide, but you shook your head in response. “no, i don’t mind it.”

jinwoo gives you a nod, shaking your grip off of his wrist, leaving you utterly confused as you kept staring at his quickly retreating form.

“how strange…” you look down at your shadow, seeing a few, glowing purple eyes glancing back at you.

at least he still wanted to protect you-

even when you knew you did something to upset him.

{ … }

jinwoo told you he didn’t mind you watching him at practice-

but you didn’t feel like your presence was warranted after upsetting him at lunch earlier. so, you hid out at the library, working on some assignments while doing your readings for your classes. you had thoughts about going home first, but deep down, you knew that avoiding jinwoo wouldn’t help with making this whole situation any better.

as you were writing, you immediately became aware of the shadow looming over you, a pair of solemn, glowing violet eyes staring down at you with a neutral expression.

“why didn’t you join me at practice?”

you tremble a bit, detecting the accusation in jinwoo’s voice as you let out a sigh.

“how could i join you when you’re mad at me?” you whisper back at him.

hearing his scoff tones down your anxieties the tiniest bit, and you felt your shoulders visibly relax at the sound of it. you finally gather the courage to meet his gaze, seeing jinwoo leaning closer to you while placing a hand on the table.

he was dressed in his track uniform, consisting of a purple and white shirt with matching shorts. he taps the top of his sneakers against the linoleum floors, giving you a nice view of his muscular calves.

you were ready to tease him about it, your lips puckered up as a low whistle escapes from them when jinwoo suddenly wraps an arm around the back of your head.

your words die against your throat, eyes going wide when your face was pressed directly against jinwoo’s chest. he runs his fingers through your hair, a pained whisper heard coming from him when he asks,

“do you really not feel a single thing from me? am i doomed to remain just friends with you in this timeline, too?”

your mouth goes dry when you hear his question, and you were uncertain as to how to respond to him. you felt your lips open and close, yet still, not a single syllable would come out.

jinwoo lets out a disappointed ‘tsk’ then, shoving you away from him as he gazes down at you with a neutral look. “forget about it. just… forget about it.”

you watch helplessly when jinwoo picks up his duffel bag and backpack, facing away from you as your heart clenched painfully in response.

if you didn’t stop him now, then you’d lose him forever.

shoving back your chair with such intensity that it nearly falls to the ground, you grab jinwoo’s wrist once more. his eyes go wide, and you catch his shocked expression momentarily before standing on the tip of your toes to fully kiss him.

his reaction was immediate- instinctive even when he wraps his arms around your back, bringing you achingly closer to him all while deepening the kiss.

you lost track of time, uncertain of how many kisses you shared when you finally found the strength to pull away from him. he keeps both of his arms wrapped tightly around you, purple eyes gazing down at you in amusement and love, all while running his hands through your hair.

“i… i always thought that you always deserved a girl like cha hae-in… because, well, you know… she was pretty powerful… and gorgeous, too.”

jinwoo scoffs at your admission, but remains quiet, wishing for you to go on and explain yourself.

“that’s why, i kept all my feelings hidden for you.” unable to meet his gaze, you play with the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric while picking away at the imaginary lint. “i always figured you deserved better than me-“

“tch, stop.”

jinwoo then gently pulls you back by your hair, eyes becoming more passionate when he crashes his lips against yours. you could only whimper in response to his sudden kiss, hands remaining curled up against his chest as jinwoo presses you even closer to him.

he pulls away first, lightly panting before admitting to you, “please… i never wanted hae-in… but you were so determined to set us up that neither one of us knew what to do.”

you blink up at him in complete shock. “what…? but, she had such a huge crush on you…?!”

jinwoo chuckles all while tracing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. “well yeah… she liked me, but that didn’t mean that i liked her. how could i like her when i already had you?”

your head was spinning, yet despite it all, you couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “eh? but didn’t you say you wanted to join track to meet her someday?”

jinwoo lets out a huff, bringing your frame into his chest once more before coming clean to you. “forgive me and my poor attempts at making you jealous. joining track was just an excuse, really.”

his admission finally earns bouts of laughter from you, feeling so relieved and happy that your feelings were requited after all. after spending a few more minutes in each other’s embrace, jinwoo gives your body one last squeeze before pulling away from you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss.

“how about i walk back home with you, then, we can talk about our plans for our upcoming first date.”

you giggle, watching as jinwoo packs up your notebooks and assignments before carrying your bag for you, giving you a lovesick expression while you cling on to his side.

perhaps dreams do come true after all…

a.n. - this is so self indulgent, but oh so much fun to write! (/ω＼)

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Cooking Together - (W/ America, England, Canada, Russia, France) x GN!Reader

Summary: Cute little scenarios where you cook together with some of the nations. 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: A lot of food mentions, fluff, like a ton of fluff, slightly suggestive/flirty dialogue and implications (nothing outright not sfw), major emphasis on how England cannot cook

America (Alfred F. Jones)

There were both pros and cons to the situation you found yourself in. The pros were that the kitchen smelled nicely of apples and cinnamon, but the cons were that the flour had only been out for a few minutes and it was already everywhere. Still, the smell of cinnamon was nice; so you had that going for you.

Despite the state of the room around you, your boyfriend was not deterred in the slightest. In fact, he was practically bursting with excitement, humming a song as he formed the dough that the flour had been used for into a pie crust. A fresh apple pie was the end goal, and he couldn't be more thrilled. The way those handsome, baby blue eyes of his were shining with pure glee had you melting.

"I haven't baked in so long!" He exclaimed, grinning at you while you worked on the pie filling in the bowl in front of you, the scent of nutmeg in the air now joining the smell of cinnamon. "Hold on," He told you suddenly, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "You've got something on your lips." With that, he kissed you sweetly, smiling into the kiss as his lips moved against yours.

"There we go," He spoke, pulling away once he was done, looking satisfied with himself. "All taken care of." You chuckled, your cheeks a light shade of red. "Did I really have something on my lips, or did you just want to kiss me, Alfred?"

"Both. You tasted like sugar, literally." He laughed, kissing you again, much quicker this time. "It isn't even done yet, but you might be sweeter than the apple pie is, babe." He teased with a small smirk.

"If we hurry up you can have both, you know."

You didn't need to say that twice. He did go fast when he was motivated, after all, especially with an awesome two-for-one deal. Needless to say, you both shared a lot of kisses that tasted like sugary, cinnamony apples that day.

England (Arthur Kirkland)

As much as you didn't want to admit it because it sounded harsh, Arthur Kirkland could not cook or bake anything without it going horribly wrong, even when it came to the dishes he had been 'perfecting' for years now. Fish and chips? That would burn. Beef wellington? Overcooked and inedible. His infamous scones? Ash. If you weren't used to it by now, the results of his cooking would scare you.

Speaking of scones, he tried to make them at least once every month or two, and surprisingly, nothing had yet to catch on fire. It made your heart break without fail every time you saw him look at his failed attempts, though.

"Arthur? Love?" You approached him one night, having already gone out to the store and bought every ingredient you'd need from the scone recipe you'd found online (you weren't going to risk using his. It might very well have been cursed.) "Do you want to bake with me? It could be an unplanned date night." You smiled at him warmly. You were his biggest soft spot, and he always gave in to those smiles of yours.

"Of course, dear." He smiled back, placing the book he had been reading down. "Oh! We should bake scones, I haven't made any in a while, and you love my scones, don't you?" You nodded, your smile faltering a bit as you remember the last time you tried his scones. They were burnt, of course, but you still managed to put on a smile and tell him how good it was in a little white lie.

"I was thinking the same thing." You responded, leading him to the kitchen to show him that you had already prepared everything. Every measurement was made and ready, all he had to do now was put it in a bowl, mix, and then bake. Easy as that. Or you hoped.

"This must've taken you a while, love." He observed, smile widening at the sight. You were so sweet to him! He never liked the whole measuring part, and here you had done it all for him. He could swoon over just how much he loved you. "Let's get started!" He exclaimed, overflowing with excitement.

With you guiding him along, things came out more than edible, they looked delicious! Instead of a hardened, blackened mess, the scones looked almost exactly like the picture in the recipe as you pulled them out of the oven.

"Look, Arthur!" You grinned, showing him the tray before setting it down. "You did it! These look bakery-worthy—" You let out a surprised gasp as he pulled you into a celebratory kiss, soon melting into it.

"Aha! Now France can't say I don't know how to cook!" He beamed, causing you to begin laughing. If he was happy, then so were you.

Canada (Matthew Williams)

Mornings with Matthew were always something you looked forward to. Waking up in his arms, combing your fingers through his soft, messy blond hair, and giving him his well-deserved 'good morning' kisses. It was a pure domestic bliss that you wouldn't trade for anything else in the world.

"What do you want for breakfast, hon?" He asked softly, still cuddled up next to you in bed. Another great thing about mornings with him was his cooking. Every day without fail he made you something mouth-watering good. Whether it was something simple or more complex, everything he made showed his love for you, even if cooking seemed to be a bit mundane to some people.

"Pancakes? Ooh! Blueberry pancakes." You replied happily, a small laugh leaving him in response. He blushed slightly, finding your enthusiasm both endearing and adorably cute. "Let me help you make 'em," you insisted with a grin. He laughed again before leaning into you, unable to resist kissing you when you were this adorable.

It didn't take long for you to find yourselves in the kitchen, hugging him from the side as you watched him cook. The blueberry-filled batter you had made turned out amazingly, and you were eager to see the results of your work in the form of masterly crafted pancakes.

When they were all done and covered in Matthew's favorite maple syrup you both sat down to eat, talking about whatever crossed your minds as you ate your breakfasts and sipped your coffee. It was moments like this why you savored and enjoyed your mornings with him, these moments where you two engaged in quality time and you were reminded just why you had fallen in love with him.

Oh, not to mention you also liked how his lips tasted like maple syrup when you were kissing him afterward, too.

Russia (Ivan Braginsky)

Before he met you he was used to doing everything alone, including having meals. He had no one to share his favorite dishes with, and eating was always a lonely activity when the seat next to him at the dinner table was empty. When you came along things weren't so isolating anymore.

Cooking dinner together had become a staple in your relationship early on, the act being used as a way to spend some quality time together in a simpler fashion. It was something that you two used to bond when you were still getting used to each other. Cooking wasn't just making a meal for you, it was a display of priceless non-physical intimacy.

"That tickles, Ivan," you giggled, feeling him nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you sauteed the meat and stirred the sauce you'd need for the meal you were making, the tall Russian towering over you from behind as he held you gently. "You're really affectionate today, дорогой."

He let out a happy hum in reply, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "You're cute today, мое солнышко. How could I not be?" You smiled at his compliment before grabbing a spoon and scooping a bit of the sauce inside of the pot in front of you, turning around to face him. "Open up," you said, moving the spoonful toward his mouth and letting him taste what you had made.

"Very good," He told you after tasting the sauce. "You're starting to cook like a professional, дорогой. I don't think I've ever had a better beef stroganoff sauce." You blushed, tilting your head to the side. "Really?" It really must've been good if he hadn't tasted a better version of a dish he had eaten countless times over the decades.

"You're being cute again," He chuckled, a warmth growing in his chest at the sight of you. He loved you and these moments together so, so much.

France (Francis Bonnefoy)

French cuisine wasn't known for being regarded as some of the best in the world for no reason. Living in Paris with your boyfriend who was fond of dinner dates led you to witness firsthand why France was seen as a leader in the culinary arts. As much as you loved going to a fancy restaurant and sipping wine while you ate with Francis, you wanted tonight's date to be a bit less extravagant.

All you wanted was to cook with him at home and share a simple night over a home-cooked meal. Luckily, your boyfriend wasn't opposed to the idea in the slightest.

"This is romantic, oui?" He questioned with a pleased smile as he poured you a glass of wine (nothing too expensive, per your own request). "A night in with mon amour. What could be better?" He smiled, handing you your glass. "I'm a chef magnifique, so you'll be served food better than any restaurant can offer."

He wasn't exaggerating, either. As your date commenced, you were pleasantly surprised to see how talented he was when it came to both cooking the main course and baking the dessert of raspberry macarons. The only downside was that the macarons were harder to make than they looked.

"Mine look weird compared to yours," you observed, looking over to see his work. "I think I keep piping in too much jam..." He looked over at yours, nodding in agreement. "Oui. But they'll still taste good, non?" His gaze then traveled to your lips, and he smirked. "You have jam on your face, mon amour."

He leaned in, kissing you lovingly, making sure to get rid of that raspberry jam he was talking about. You tasted beyond sweet, and that wasn't just because of the macaron filling. "You know, I wouldn't mind tasting something else tonight other than the food we made, chérie~"

"Let's eat first, Francis," you replied with a playful roll of your eyes. He was a flirt, but he was still yours.

[digitalro]

After curfew

monoma x reader

The summer breeze was cool that night, you and Monoma were sneaking back into the dorms from the training gym.

This started when a couple of weeks ago, the two of you managed to somehow sneak out to the gym at around the same time.

To avoid snitching on each other, you struck a deal, both of you would sneak out and use the place after hours but neither of you will speak about it.

"Sorry my words were beyond your brain capacity. As expected of a class A student. Let me explain it to you in a language you understand.”

If there was something impressive about Monoma, it’s how he’s held his one-sided beef with class A since you were first years at U.A academy.

You sighed and told him to go on, having had enough of his bullshit already and decided to close your eyes and pray lightning strikes him then and there.

He smiled then cleared his throat, “OOH OOH AH AH!” He mimicked a monkey, jumping around you until it irked you enough to bump his shoulders.

Satisfied with your reaction, he laughed as he got pushed from the path.

Sometimes it took all the willpower in you to not straight up snitch to an instructor, even if it meant getting yourself in trouble because that’s how much he got on your nerves.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket. “That’s it, I’ve held out for too long you polly pocket. I’m telling Mr. Aizawa.”

He laughed, coming back on track and walking backwards to face you. “Tell him what? that YOU have been training after curfew?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue, “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Right as you were going to retort, you suddenly tripped over something and fell face first. You grunted with your face still on the grass.

Once he made sure you were fine, he pointed at you. "Ha! You can't even walk righ-" his sentence was cut off by you pulling him by the ankle, causing him to slip and fall as well.

He hissed and looked back at you but before he could open his big mouth, you placed one hand over his mouth. His eyes widened, you used your free hand to point towards the figure you had just seen in the distance.

It was one of the instructors patrolling around the dorms. They were far enough and barely within hearing distance, but you were still at risk of being seen.

He then acknowledged what was going on and crouched further, getting closer to you.

While the two of you were shuffling around, he accidentally stepped on your hand that was on the ground. You slightly quirked up and let out a shriek that was quickly muffled by his hand on your mouth, simultaneously dragging you onto him.

You glared up at the blond and used both of your hands to lift his off, “I will feed you Mineta’s shit if it’s the last thing I do.”

He scoffed out a laugh. "I would've loved doing it on purpose but I promise I didn't mean to." He whispered, looking down at you. It was then when you noticed how close the two of you were.

It seemed he had too because he suddenly felt a pang in his heart, you looked pretty under the moonlight. The distance between you suddenly made him conscious.

Of course though, he would rather die than admit that or acknowledge whatever he just felt. "What? are you taking in how beautiful I am?"

You thought for a second, he honestly wasn't wrong. Him with the moon behind him gave you a different look on him. His hair was gently blown by the wind and blue eyes looked calmer than ever, his cocky smile that he wore strangely seemed rather beautiful than annoying.

The longer you stared, the more you realized he wasn’t too bad of a looker, and the more nervous he got. It was fun to you. "Sort of. You're pretty when you shut that built-in bullshit radio of yours."

"Huhhh? You don't- what are you saying. I am gorgeous but- shut up! And I DON'T have a built in radio!" He stammered, barely above a whisper, unable to form coherent sentences.

Although it was dark, you could definitely tell his face reddened a thousand shades.

You laughed lowly then turned your head and rose up enough to peek over the grassy top, praying you were just paranoid and the two of you wouldn’t be found out, and luck was surely on your side that night.

You heaved a sigh of relief and got back to your previous position, only this time you misplaced your foot and ended up falling back, but not before grabbing Monoma by the shirt and tumbling down the little hill with him.

He instinctively grabbed your hand that you pulled him with and guarded your head with his other hand.

The both of you landed at the bottom, tangled and messy. He was spread on the ground with you on top, one of your legs on his stomach while your head was down on the grass beside his.

Neither of you moved for a while. All you could focus on was the sound of the little river flowing behind you.

“I know I’m irresistible but you can get off of this free bed now your majesty.” He attempted a snarky remark to build back his confidence and steady his voice, only faltering a little.

But he made no effort whatsoever to actually get you off of him. Frankly, he didn’t find it too bad being there with you, but he also didn’t want you being the first to say anything.

“Shut up.” You groaned, rolling completely off of him, but your hand still remained in his. Neither one of you dared to remove it.

And there the two of you laid sprawled on the grass doing nothing but catching your breaths for a couple of minutes.

You turned your head to look at him. You've never seen him so serene, doing nothing but heaving.

He looked back at you and quirked an eyebrow.

"You act so bold for being such a flustered wittle princess."

The blond didn't instantly have a witty comeback but just started laughing instead.

“Me? Flustered! Ha, you’re funny. That’s why your hand’s still in mine, you germ.” He teased, even though he was more than partially responsible for that and the fact he actually liked it.

You retracted it from his newly loosened grip. “How could I when it was oh so securely grasped between your delicate fingers.”

He scoffed humorously, turning to look back up at the sky. "You're so annoying. It makes me laugh, looks like you actually have a talent for something." He said in between chuckles. "Dimwit."

You couldn't help but start laughing too. "That's why I won the team battle and you didn’t. Shitface."

And every little thing that night seemed to share the same humorous sentiment.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ A/N ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

first post on here! hi. this is my second work ever, sorry if the writing’s wonky ^^.

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: after you step in to defend Jackie against one of her boyfriend's sleazy friends, you realise helping the popular girl and starting beef with a jock has its consequences.

warnings: mentions of sexual assault, minor violence and underage drinking.

author's note: i keep getting people asking about posting more jackie stuff so i’m happy to share yet another fic! it’s three parts and it’s the last thing for now that i’ve written for her, so i hope you all like it 🥰

I collapsed on the grass outside, breathing out with relief once the fresh night air cooled me down and the music from inside wasn't so loud anymore. How I'd let Van convince me to attend a house party was beyond me, but as my best friend, she usually got her way.

Tonight though, I may have gotten a little carried away and drank more than usual, feeling somewhat lightheaded and lazy. Drunk me wasn't so fun, so I'd come outside to cool off and catch myself, away from the compact house of some jock I didn't know.

As I relaxed, trying to tune out the few teens that were milling around the front lawn, I heard a commotion by the front door. Some couple were arguing, their voices familiar as they left the house and grew louder.

"–can't just check out other girls right in front of me!"

"I wasn't! God, you're overreacting, Jackie, you always do this!"

I sat upright, pushing my hair from my eyes as I glanced in the direction of Van's soccer teammate and the most popular girl in our grade, Jackie Taylor, arguing with her boyfriend, Jeff Sadecki.

The last thing I cared about was their relationship troubles, but they were so damn loud and I was suddenly entertained by their back and forth. From what I could gather in my drunken state, Jeff had been distracted by some girls, flirting with one of them, but didn't deem it flirting like Jackie did.

"–just forget it, we're over!" Jackie shouted at him, throwing her cup on the grass with frustration.

Jeff scoffed. "Whatever. I don't need this."

He returned to the house as Jackie clenched her jaw, still angry. She fumbled for a cigarette and lighter from her purse with irritation, her clumsy hands betraying how much she'd drank tonight too. Thoughtlessly watching, I saw one of Jeff's friends, Leroy something-or-the-other, trail out the house and approach her.

Not shouting like Jeff and Jackie had been a moment ago, the two of them were talking and I couldn't hear their conversation. Or rather Leroy was chatting up Jackie and she was visibly uncomfortable, attempting to step back. He began to get touchy though, his hands grabbing her arm, and whether it was a sense of female camaraderie or my absolutely stupid alcohol-soaked brain, I felt the need to intervene.

Dragging myself up off the grass, I stumbled over to them and fixed Leroy with a glare.

"She clearly doesn't want you here," I said in what I hoped wasn't a babble of English.

"Back off, bitch," Leroy sneered at me, before stepping closer to Jackie and letting his hand slip to her butt.

Jackie jumped at his unwanted touch, hazel eyes widened with panic, and without thinking, I made a swing at Leroy's face, fist connecting with his nose in a sickening crack.

A groan escaped my lips as I grasped my hand – what the fuck was his face made of?! – and then I realised what I did as he stumbled back, clutching his face. I saw a glimpse of blood, and then Jackie's widened eyes looked between us, and I knew I was fucked.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, before making a sloppy swing at my head, to which I thankfully still had the instinct to duck away from.

Not ready to finish this fight I definitely didn't mean to start, I shoved him back to buy time then grabbed Jackie's hand, telling her quickly, "Time to go!"

Thankfully she got the hint and I yanked her away, the two of us running as fast as we could. Leroy chased after us and I risked glancing over my shoulder, watching him trip over his own feet and buying us enough time to leg it down the street.

"Here," I said breathlessly, pulling Jackie down behind a car.

The two of us practically held our breath as we kneeled down, frozen in place. I didn't doubt that Leroy would kill me, and her by association, and I began to wonder how I'd even ended up in this situation.

Jackie risked glancing around the back of the car before sighing with relief. "He's not following us."

Mirroring her sigh, I turned around and sank to the ground fully, back against the car. She joined my side, both of us reeling from what happened. I glanced down at my hand, aware that it should be hurting but not quite registering the pain. It was distant, the alcohol fogging my mind.

"What the hell was that?" Jackie asked, reminding me she was there.

Dazed, I tilted my head and stared at the road. "That wasn't your boyfriend, was it? I can't remember."

She let out a breath before giggling. "No. That was my ex-boyfriend's idiot friend."

Making sense of it all again, I nodded. "Right. Yeah. What a dick."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Feeling hot and a little dizzy, I tried to focus on the present and looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her curled blonde hair bouncing as she did. "Yeah. Thanks to you." Hazel eyes flickered to mine in gratitude, and I could only shrug in response.

A silence fell upon us for a moment, and I suddenly became aware of how this was probably the most I'd ever spoken to Jackie Taylor in my life. We'd been in the same class since we were kids, and despite her being on the same soccer team as Van, there had never been need for us to converse. Until now, I guess.

"I feel sick," she suddenly said, and I noticed her face was a little pale.

"Then throw up," I said tiredly.

She scrunched her face with disgust, shaking her head. I shrugged, not caring, and then she leaned to the left and threw up a little. I pulled a face as she straightened up lazily, wiping her mouth.

"I've gotta go home," she said.

I checked my watch, but it did nothing to help because the hands were moving in all sorts of directions. "Same. I think."

She began to snicker, glancing sideways at me. "Leroy just might kill you."

A little delusional and finding her amusement contagious, I began to laugh. Leroy probably would, but right now, I couldn't care less.

She lifted a finger in the air with realisation. "Shauna," she exclaimed. "She'll drive."

"I can't leave Van," I remembered, as she stood up and yanked me up with her.

"I'll go get her," she promised, already tugging me back to the house, where Shauna's car was parked out front. "Don't move."

I saluted clumsily, waiting by Shauna's car and almost falling asleep against the door as Jackie seemed to take years to return. Finally, her, Van and Shauna all came back, Van shooting me an amused glance as she helped me off the door.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked with a stifled laugh. "Jackie said you punched Leroy?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "Barely."

She definitely wanted to know more but thankfully kept quiet as she helped me into the backseat, sliding in beside me.

"You two are gonna regret this in the morning," Shauna was saying from the driver's seat, but it went in one ear and out the other.

I vaguely remembered Shauna dropping me off home and Van helping me into my bedroom later that evening before passing out.

The next morning, my hangover hit me hard, but not harder than the pain from my broken knuckle. After waking up with a purple right hand, terrible memories from the night before reminded me of what I'd done, and after accepting that Leroy was going to kill me at some point, I went to the hospital with my mum who didn't seem to believe I'd punched a wall whilst drunk. Still, leaving with a splint and cast on my hand was worth it if it meant stopping some jerk from getting handsy.

School on the following Monday was definitely something to dread, mainly because I wasn't sure what would happen. Of course, after getting some stares off other students – word had undoubtedly spread about the incident – I stopped by my locker and was mildly surprised to see the word 'BITCH' scribbled in permanent marker pen across it.

"Lovely," I said sarcastically, before ignoring it, not wanting to give bystanders a show.

I opened it as usual and put my skateboard inside, mindful of my hand, when I felt someone bump into me from behind on purpose. I clenched my jaw when I turned and saw it was Leroy walking past, a bandage across his nose.

"Bitch," he muttered with bitterness.

"Yours truly." I returned his glare, before looking back to my locker.

If he was going to hate on me for stepping in as he sexually assaulted a girl, then let him. I'd never liked him anyway, the worst of Jeff's idiot friends. But hey, at least I'd broken his nose.

I'd like to say it ended there, but not even a moment later, his girlfriend whom I'd forgotten existed until she appeared by my side with a threatening glare, decided to defend his stupid arse.

"You better back off," she attempted to warn me. "I know it was you who broke his nose."

I quirked a brow with disbelief. "Do you know why?"

She scoffed. "Because you're a bitch."

I furrowed my brows, wondering if she was choosing to be this dense. "Tiffany, your arsehole boyfriend groped another girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Like I'd believe you."

I snorted with amusement. "Fine. Don't. I really don't care."

She stepped closer to me with narrowed eyes. "Stay the fuck away from us, bitch."

I rolled my eyes as she left, wondering how I'd managed to make so many enemies in the space of one night. Unfazed though, I continued to grab some books from my locker and ignored the looks I was getting from students with nothing better to do. This would all blow over in a few days, I just knew it.

When I closed my locker, I jumped, startled, when I saw Jackie stood behind it.

"Jesus," I said, clutching my chest. "A warning would be nice."

"Sorry," she said awkwardly, before her eyes fell to the cast on my hand and widened slightly. "Fuck."

"Hi to you too," I replied sarcastically.

She shook her head apologetically before meeting my gaze. "Friday night. That was... a lot."

I nodded, just as uncomfortable as she sounded. "Uh huh."

She pursed her lips, glancing at my graffiti'd locker. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. But I'm thankful for your help. You really showed him."

Not wanting her to feel bad, I tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, his brick head kind of broke my knuckle, but it was totally worth it."

She cracked a small smile, eyes flickering to my hand again. "Sorry."

I shrugged her apology off easily. "Seriously, Jackie, you don't need to say anything. Honestly, we were both drunk and I probably could have handled the situation better, but what's done is done. We're good."

She relaxed a little, nodding in agreement, though I couldn't tell if she was satisfied by my response. When she didn't say anything, I held my books to my chest awkwardly.

"So... see you in class," I said.

"Right," she agreed, and then we both turned to walk to class, only to fall into step with one another. "Same class," she mumbled when she noticed, and I tried not to laugh.

"Same class," I agreed, and a silence fell between us as we reached the classroom.

After exchanging a final glance, we split off to our seats, her joining Shauna's side as I found my usual spot next to Van. When she spotted me, she was already laughing at the sight of my bandaged hand.

"I can't believe you punched him," she said instantly, making me roll my eyes.

"Glad this is funny to you," I said playfully, giving her a disapproving look.

She continued to tease me. "I leave you alone for five minutes, Y/N! God, I wish I could've seen it. Everybody's talking about it. Apparently you broke Leroy's nose."

"Something like that," I mumbled as she laughed with amazement.

She continued to ramble about what people had been saying, enjoying how awkward I was at the attention, and I let my eyes wander around the classroom as I tried to tune her out. They subconsciously drifted to Jackie, who was listening to something Shauna was saying to her, and then she glanced at me and I quickly looked away, embarrassed I'd been caught.

—

I was relieved to see that the graffiti on my locker had been scrubbed off (terribly, but I wasn't complaining) by the cleaners last night, as when I showed up to school the next morning, it was gone. My headphones were on as I replaced my books for the morning, mindlessly getting ready for homeroom.

There was nothing out of the ordinary as I did, my eyes glancing around casually, and then I saw Jackie a little ways down the hall, leaning against the lockers with her apparently-not-so-ex-boyfriend, Jeff. I couldn't care less, but she must have felt my eyes as she awkwardly made eye contact, smile fading slightly, and I looked away. Whether she was back with Jeff or not wasn't my business – she was barely a friend, let alone someone whose relationship I cared for – but it felt strange knowing she would choose to go back to him after everything that had happened.

Once I'd grabbed my books, I pulled my headphones off and stuffed them and my walkman into my backpack. I was forced to walk past a flirtatious Jackie and Jeff, eyes trained ahead, and tried not to think much more on it as I went to homeroom.

I settled at my desk, flicking through my English book when I saw Van wasn't here yet, and began to look over my homework a final time before next period. In my own world, I was startled when someone appeared at my desk, looking up to see Jackie stood there.

"Er... hi?" I greeted with a quirked brow.

She swallowed awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. "What you saw just then, with Jeff and I..."

When she didn't continue, I pressed, "What?"

"It's not like it seems," she finished, cheeks tinged pink.

I wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain herself to me of all people, but I answered, "What, that you're back together?"

She pressed her lips together, nodding slightly.

Tilting my head and playing along, I asked, "Well, are you?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, yeah, but–"

"Cool," I cut her off, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "It's none of my business."

She scoffed slightly. "Yeah, but you're gonna think I'm being stupid after everything that happened–"

Growing tired of this conversation, I said, "Being stupid? You think I think it's stupid that your boyfriend was flirting with other girls and then his friend sexually assaulted you and you're still going back to him?" I tutted sarcastically. "Nah, not stupid at all."

She tensed her jaw slightly, clutching her books to her chest. "It's not like that."

I raised my eyebrows. "Then why are you telling me? You've never cared what I thought before."

She let out a low groan, having no reply, and simply walked away to her seat. Okay, so maybe I was being a little harsh, but it was just odd that she suddenly cared what I thought. And yes, I was judging her terrible life choices, but it wasn't my business.

It didn't matter anyway. I wasn't expecting this to be much of a problem now that she'd (terribly) explained herself to me.

—

Maybe I underestimated how long jocks could hold grudges for, or maybe I was just stupid for not knowing Leroy would never let things go. All I knew was that my one punch was never letting me live it down, nor letting me go back to being just acquaintances with Jackie Taylor.

About a week after Jackie felt the need to explain her getting back together with Jeff, I was skateboarding home from school like I always did. The crossing on the road was clear, so I started to ride across, headphones on my head as I did. I saw a car in my peripheral vision, but it was further down the road and they could obviously see me, so I thought nothing of it.

That was until it suddenly beeped and stopped right next to me, scaring the shit out of me and making my foot catch the ground, my skateboard slipping out from under me. Heart racing in my chest, I pulled my headphones from my head and sat up, just in time to hear a voice I definitely didn't want to.

"Watch out, loser!"

I looked to my left to see Jeff and Leroy laughing in Jeff's car, impressed with themselves and their ability to startle me. But the real frustration kicked in when I saw Jackie sat in the passenger's seat, flushed red with embarrassment and guilt as she glanced at me. Why was I not surprised?

Clenching my jaw, I stood up and ignored their laughter, instead grabbing my skateboard and finishing crossing the road. They beeped again as they drove off, but I didn't bother sparing them a glance.

My opinion on Jackie Taylor up until this point was practically nonexistent. In my eyes, she was just some popular girl in school who was nice enough to everyone, kind to my best friend who happened to be on the same soccer team as her, and that was it. We rarely crossed paths or spoke, and I'd never thought about her other than if she was right in front of me.

Now, however, she seemed to be in my life a lot more because of one stupid night, and I found my opinion of her worsening as I judged her poor choice of boyfriend and those she surrounded herself with.

The next day at school, almost to my amusement if I wasn't so irritated by everything that had happened, Jackie found me in homeroom at my desk again. I had a strong sense of deja vu as she hovered before me, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hey," she spoke first.

I blinked, expressionless, definitely not in the mood for this. "Hi."

It took her a moment to find her words, in which I was growing a little more annoyed by her apparent innocence.

"Yesterday...," she started, "I didn't mean for–"

"What?" I interrupted. "Your jackass boyfriend and his jackass friend to act like jackasses?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

Was she always this irritating? I couldn't remember anymore.

"It's cool, Jackie," I decided to end the conversation, afraid I'd say something I'd regret. "I didn't expect anything less from tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber."

I looked back down to my notebook, hoping she'd leave and we could be done with our lives, but she felt the need to keep going.

"He's not always like that," she said gently. "I swear, he–"

"Did you come here just to defend him?" I asked with surprise. "Because I don't wanna hear it."

She frowned, irritable. "No, I just– I wanted you to know that."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Great apology. Thanks."

Clenching her jaw slightly, she said, "If you gave me a chance to speak, I'd say it."

"Whatever," I mumbled, rolling my eyes and returning my attention to my book.

She huffed with disapproval, making me glance at her with a slight glare. Her playing innocent game was getting old.

"FYI, if you're dating a jackass, that kinda makes you one too," I reminded her when she didn't leave.

She returned my glare before turning on her heel and leaving for her desk. Van soon showed up, taking her seat beside me but noticing the blonde leaving.

"Jackie still on you about your hand?" she asked with amusement. "I keep telling her to get over it, that you're okay. But she feels bad."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of her. "Can't feel that bad if she's still hanging around with douche one and douche two."

Taken aback, Van gave me a look. "Woah, who shit in your cereal this morning?"

I shook my head dismissively, releasing a breath. "Sorry. Nothing. Just tired, I guess."

She clearly didn't believe me, and when I looked up at her, I saw her glancing over to where Jackie was sat, but I refused to look that way. Van smiled in that direction though, greeting her teammate, before giving me a confused look.

"Did you guys fight or something? She looks like you kicked her dog."

"No," I said with mild irritation, before facing forward. "Can we drop this?"

Van chuckled quietly. "Sure, weirdo."

—

Later that day, I was staring out the window in Chemistry class whilst I waited for other students to make their way in and for class to start. When I felt a presence beside me, I assumed it was my lab partner, Dennis, and straightened up to greet him with a smile, but then I saw it was Jackie placing her bag on the desk and pulling out the stool.

"The hell are you doing?" I asked with furrowed brows, watching as she got comfortable. "Dennis sits there."

"Not today he doesn't," she said knowingly, before waving a hand to Dennis who waved some cash in the air with gratitude.

I dropped my jaw with disbelief. "You paid him?"

She turned to face me, her honey-coloured eyes meeting mine guiltily. "I want to say sorry for real. The only reason you're getting all this aggression from Leroy is because you stuck up for me."

I gave her a sarky look. "Kind of, yeah."

She sighed, rolling her shoulders back. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't even want Leroy there yesterday, but he needed a ride home and Jeff said yeah. It's no excuse though."

I pressed my lips together, eyes studying her straight face curiously. There was a hint of sincerity somewhere there, and maybe finally putting this to bed would bring things back to normal. But then a smile grew on her lips and any chance of forgiving her went out the window.

"This doesn't make me a jackass now, does it?"

I lifted my brows with disbelief, her pride frustrating me. "Wow. Is that what this is about?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course not. But you should know that I'm not like that."

"Is the only reason you're apologising to change the way I view you?"

Again, she shook her head nonchalantly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe she was nice on the surface, but Jackie Taylor didn't seem genuine in the slightest.

"You know what? Fuck this," I told her, beginning to pack my books away. "I don't need to forgive you and I don't need your fake apologies or games. Just leave me alone. Things were a lot easier before I decided to be nice to you."

She watched me gather my things with bewilderment. "That's not fair."

I stood up and shot her an impatient look. "Whatever. You stick to your delusional princess land with your dick boyfriend and his friends and I'll stick to being a loser. Sound good?"

Her mouth opened with surprise, both offended and taken aback. "Y/N, just– where are you going?"

"To find my actual lab partner," I snapped, before moving past her to find Dennis.

I was beginning to think breaking my knuckle wasn't worth it. Getting involved with Jackie only seemed to bring me misfortune.

—

A few days passed with Jackie finally seeming to leave me alone. Don't get me wrong, I would occasionally catch her eyes in the hallway or in class, or sometimes she'd need to chat to Van about something and I'd awkwardly wait for her to finish before she'd leave, but she seemed to give up on bothering me with her half arsed apologies.

As for Leroy and his girlfriend, they clearly still held some sort of grudge for me, shooting me glares whenever they saw me. It got to a point where they seriously needed to get over themselves, though I guess that was hard when Leroy's broken nose was a constant reminder that he got decked in the face by a girl.

I was walking down the hallway when I resisted the urge to roll my eyes upon seeing Leroy and Tiffany walking in the opposite direction. I purposely avoided their gaze, not wanting to get into a confrontation with them, but Leroy purposely bumped into my shoulder with force, making me drop my books, and that was my last straw.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I exclaimed, before picking up my books.

"What did you just say?" Leroy stopped, turning around to fix me with a glare.

I clenched my jaw as I returned it twice as hostile. "You really need to grow up. Your big rock of a head is still in tact, so what's your problem? You think you'd get over this by now."

He looked like he wanted to punch me, but Tiffany stepped forward instead.

"Watch your mouth, bitch," she hissed, making me groan loudly with disbelief.

"He literally harassed another girl, and probably others too!" I reminded her. "Are you insane?!"

"Don't listen to her," Leroy said to her coolly. "She's just jealous."

"I know, baby, I know."

I laughed bitterly, looking between them like they were the world's strangest exhibit. Bystanders were starting to look at the three of us now, probably expecting a fight, but I seriously didn't care.

"You need to get a life and stay out of ours, loser," Leroy threatened me, fist clenching by his side.

"How fucking ironic," I said, shaking my head. "You're the one who won't get over yourself."

"You keep running that mouth of yours and I'll give you a broken nose," Tiffany attempted to threaten me, stepping forward, but she wasn't intimidating in the slightest. "You deserve it after hurting him."

I snorted with amusement. "I would love to see you try." When she squeezed her fists by her side, I glanced at her stupid boyfriend. "What? Can't fight your own battles, big man?"

Steam was practically leaving their ears as they glowered at me, and then the next events happened too quickly for me to make sense of.

Jackie came out of nowhere and stepped between Tiffany and I, saying, "Okay, how about we just–"

But Tiffany punched forward, aiming for me but Jackie got in the way at the same time and Tiffany's fist landed on her face. My eyes widened as Jackie stumbled back into me, clutching her nose, and both Tiffany and Leroy watched on with wide eyes.

"What the fuck?!" I shouted, before holding Jackie upright as I went to look over her face. When I moved her hand away slightly, there was blood streaming from her nose and I couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh my god!"

"What the hell, Jackie!" Tiffany cried out, holding her hand with pain.

"Are you kidding right now?!" Jackie retorted before wincing and holding her nose again, head tilted up to stop the bleeding.

"Okay, everyone move aside!" a teacher pushed through the crowd of entertained students surrounding us. When she spotted Jackie's bleeding nose, she said, "Miss Taylor, you need to go to the nurse's office–"

"I'll take her," I said quickly, before fixing Tiffany with a glare.

"You," the teacher continued, looking to Tiffany, "with me, now."

I didn't wait any longer to watch the death stares from Leroy and Tiffany, instead guiding Jackie to the nurse's office. I still couldn't believe she'd stepped in like that, and also that Tiffany had it in her to punch me. I didn't think she'd actually do it.

"Oh my god, it's running down my throat," Jackie whined with disgust, looking forward again. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Ssshhh, we're almost there," I cut her complaining off, though a large part of me felt extremely guilty.

When we reached the nurse's office, I immediately guided her to the bed to sit upright, whilst the nurse seemed to catch on and immediately jumped into action. I stood back and watched as the nurse gave her some gauze to hold to her nose.

"Is it broken?" Jackie asked with wet eyes, a little dramatically.

"No, dear, it's just a bloody nose," the nurse assured her, before glancing at me. "There's not much else I can do. Just keep changing the gauze and have her drink some water."

I nodded. "Will do. Thanks."

She offered a smile before heading to the other side of the room to finish helping out another student. I watched her leave before joining Jackie's bedside and looking to her with disbelief.

"What the fuck was that?!" I asked.

She moved the gauze so it wasn't blocking her mouth and motioned to her face. "I was trying to stop this from happening."

"A little fucking late," I said sarcastically.

"I figured," she snapped, before her face scrunched up with pain and she closed her eyes momentarily.

My jaw slowly relaxed as I really took the state of her in. The guilt pressed down on my chest – this wasn't her fight and she was certainly not the type of girl to get into one in the first place. Seeing her bloody nose and stained shirt was like seeing a puppy get kicked, and my irritation definitely wasn't helping.

"You shouldn't have got involved," I said with a sigh, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She opened her eyes, bright hazel ones swimming with guilt. "I just wanted to make things right. Show you that I really am sorry. It's not about how you view me and it's not a game. I'm just sorry."

Unlike the last time, she seemed genuine with her apology, and paired with her puppy dog eyes and bloody nose, it was hard for me not to give in.

"Fuck, fine, I forgive you," I breathed out.

She began to smile with relief before leaning back slightly. I frowned, eyes flickering over her guiltily, before I grabbed the spare gauze at her bedside and gently replaced the one in her hand.

"It looks like it's stopping," I said, disposing of the bloody gauze. "God, you're insane."

"It fucking hurts," she cursed, grimacing.

I tried not to smile as I wet a cloth in the bowl beside her bed. "It was barely a real punch. Tiffany's hand took most of the damage."

She narrowed her eyes at me as I began to wipe the dried-up blood from her nose and mouth with the wet cloth. "Tell that to my face."

A small smile of amusement broke out on my lips. "This was stupid, Jackie."

She sighed, removing the gauze so I could clean around her nostrils. "Probably."

The bridge of her nose was a little swollen and bright red, but at least the bleeding had stopped. God, as if Jackie Taylor got punched in the face for me. I literally never could have predicted that.

Once I cleaned her up, the nurse returned to give her some painkillers and an ice pack before making arrangements for her to be picked up from school.

"I'm sorry, I'd drive you home myself, but I don't have a car," I said with an apologetic smile.

She shook her head. "It's okay. You already stayed with me longer than you needed to. I'm just glad things are good between us again."

I exhaled softly, surprised that she cared this much. We were indifferent to one another, that was our thing. Whether it was because she felt she owed me after I broke my knuckle, or she was just trying to prove that she wasn't a bad person, I was left wondering why she was going through all this effort for a friendship that barely existed.

After she went home, it was easy to say that word of the fiasco spread around school like wildfire. Tiffany had been given a month of detention apparently, and I didn't see Leroy for the rest of the day, thankfully. Van found me after school, the two of us planning to walk home together, and that was where I debriefed her about everything that happened.

"Holy shit, what I would pay to see Jackie get decked in the face!" she exclaimed with a grin.

I quirked a brow. "Aren't you literally teammates?"

"Not in a mean way," she added quickly. "Like, it would still be funny though. Funnier if it was you, of course."

I shoved her in the arm with my good hand as she chuckled.

"I feel bad enough as it is, so no jokes," I warned her.

"Hey, it's not your fault," she assured me with a knowing look, before pausing and adding, "Though if someone says they're gonna punch you in the face, you probably shouldn't tell them you'd love to see them try."

I tried not to laugh as I shot her a look. "How was I supposed to know she'd actually do it?"

Van began to laugh again. "God, I wish I was there."

"You've only said a million times," I said with a disapproving stare, though a smile tugged at my lips.

Despite the jokes Van wouldn't stop making on the walk home, I still felt extremely guilty and couldn't stop thinking about poor Jackie. How our lives had become so intertwined in the space of two weeks was beyond me, but I suddenly felt responsible for her.

The next day at school, I saw her by her locker with Shauna before homeroom. Even from a distance, I could make out the slight swelling on her nose and it only deepened the guilt I felt. We'd technically resolved everything between us yesterday, but I felt the need to go over there and check on her to see how she was doing.

After dropping some stuff off at my locker, I went over to her and Shauna with a small smile. They noticed me and their conversation ceased, the two of them returning my smile with their own.

"Hey," Shauna greeted first.

I nodded her way before my eyes settled on Jackie, and Shauna seemed to get the hint as she politely dismissed herself, leaving us alone.

"Hey," Jackie greeted warmly.

"Hi," I said, eyes scanning her face. "How's the–?" I gestured to my own nose as I asked.

"Hurts," she admitted with a small smile, "but I covered the bruising. It's still a little swollen, but it'll be fine."

I frowned guiltily when I noticed the extra makeup she'd used to cover the red-purple bruise that had formed on the bridge of her nose. She'd done a good job, but it was still peeking through a little bit.

"It's okay," she said when she noticed my expression, before lightheartedly nodding to my bandaged hand. "Consider us even."

That didn't make me feel better at all, and I shook my head. "It shouldn't have happened. As Van kindly pointed out to me, I egged Tiffany on and she was supposed to punch me. It's not the same thing as me stepping in to defend you."

Jackie rolled her eyes playfully. "It's okay, Y/N, really. Besides, maybe her and Leroy will finally back off now."

I hummed, partially agreeing, though I knew this was still my fault.

"By the way," she added, "I broke up with Jeff."

At this, I raised my eyebrows with surprise. "What?"

Her lips pressed together into a faint smile as she looked down. "Yeah, you were right about what you said. He and his friends are jackasses. And I can do a lot better."

I wasn't sure what to say at first, not expecting her to have actually listened to what I said. But then I nodded slightly, acknowledging her words.

"You can," I found myself saying. "Do a lot better, I mean."

She breathed out with amusement. "Thanks... anyway, I should get my things, but see you in class."

"Yeah, see you," I said, still a little shocked, but nodding nonetheless.

[mewhenimanangel]

everywhere ʚɞ miles morales

pairing: 42!miles morales x reader

synopsis: miles finally asks to take you out.

wc: 2.3k

warnings!: swearing, kissing, making out, google translate spanish

prev ʚɞ

it'd been a week since miles invited you over and thanks to him, you got your grade up. the week had been full of flirting, whispering and laughing during class, texting all the time, him and his friend joined your table at lunch, and him finding any excuse to touch you.

in physics he kept his knee touched against yours, he would "drop" a pencil or whatever so he could hold your thigh using it to support himself while reaching for it. when he sat behind you in math, you would feel him touching your curls or your shoulder every now and then. when you would pass a paper back to him his fingers always reached out far enough to touch yours.

it was thursday afternoon on the walk home from school, safiya didn't come to school that day so it was just you and miles. "no because why did she say that like is that bitch really insane" you laughed. "shit is crazy for real" miles agreed, grabbing an arizona. you were currently in lenny's bodega heating up a beef patty - the last one how ironic, debriefing with miles about your day at school. "no fighting bout it this time?" lenny chuckled, ringing you guys up. "nah, he willingly agreed to share this time" you giggled.

you continued walking, both of you munching on your respective halves. you said something that made the both of you laugh and miles just stared at your smile, he wants that image stained in his brain. "alright, what. stressing me out with the staring" you joked, feeling a little awkward. "nothing" he laughed off before continuing. "will you let me take you out?" he asked you. all of a sudden you were nervous and looking around with a doofy grin on your face. "okayy. where?" you threw your trash in a nearby bin.

"it'd be a surprise. actually not really a surprise but on saturday, would you come?" he asked. "yeah i'll go on a date with you" you smiled. he pressed his lips together to hide the big smile that was growing on his face. he laughed out "okay alright, cool. i'll let you know the time" "okayy bye" you kissed him on the cheek and went up your block.

ʚɞ

it was friday night and you were rummaging through your closet for an outfit to wear. you groaned out a sigh and grabbed your phone opening miles' contact.

you pressed face time and waited for him to pick up. "yeah?" his prowler distorted voice answered. you looked at your phone to see him on what looks like to be a roof, prowler gear on. "oh shit sorry, didn't know you were doing your prowler stuff." you said, about to hang up. "nah it's fine, m'not busy right now" he told you, prowler voice turning off. "need something?" he asked you. "miles where are we goingg" you whined. "its a surprise, you can't handle surprises?" he chuckled. "i don't know how to dress for surprises. i don't know what to wear" you sighed. "you look good in everything, don't over think it."

"yeah well i wanna look good for you" you rolled your eyes. he scoffed "you literally always look so good, chiquita relax." suddenly there was a loud bang in the distance and he shot his head over his shoulder. "you'll figure it out. aight i gotta go" he said, prowler voice back on. he quickly hung up and you sighed, going to the kitchen to make a chicken wrap for dinner. this was a 3 am you problem.

ʚɞ

you got in the shower to shave, exfoliate, and scrub your body. getting out of the shower, you put on a face mask letting it set before you came back to do your skincare routine. you sat in your mirror to put product through your curls, deciding to let them down past your shoulders.

you finished your makeup and got dressed in the outfit you'd picked after a few hours of searching. you decided on a short strapless black dress and a gold chain belt that hung around your hips and chunky loafer heels. you decorated yourself with two layers of gold jewelry and your mom's earrings she'd given you.

you admired your look in the mirror before leaving to go in the living room. your dad looked over at you and furrowed his eyebrows "where you going all dressed up?" he asked, pausing his show. "i literally told you i was going out tonight" you scoffed, grabbing your purse. "with who?" he asked you. "miles.." you answered in a small voice. "that damn boy again?! y/n you're not-" daddy please, you literally already said yes. plus he's downstairs already. please please pleaseee" you begged, leaning over the chair in his face.

"ughh alright fine! but that location stays on all night and when i call, you answer. aight?" he bargained. "yayyy thank you daddy" you gave him a quick peck on the cheek before running to grab your purse and jacket. "okay i gotta go byeee" you ran out the door, and down the building stairs. you were about to open the door but miles was on the other side about to do the same thing. "oh hey. was gonna come and ask if you were still coming" he joked. "sorry, stuff with my dad" you smiled.

he took the time to really take you in. the way your curls perfectly framed your face, the way your gloss made your lips shine, the way your necklaces graced your collarbones, the way your dress hugged against your waist. "wow. you look amazing..you look like elegant and shit" he chuckled, feeling a little nervous. "here, they're for you" he smiled, handing you a bouquet of red roses. he reached out to hold your hand, leading you down the street. "ahh thank you" you didn't know what to say, compliments made you awkward.

"you look reall good too by the way" you checked him out. he wore a pair of grey pants with a black short sleeve top and jordans, black jacket over it. "tried my best to look as nice. i don't be dressing like that"he shrugged. "well you look very nice anyway" you squeezed his face.

"can you tell me where we're going now?" you asked him going down the metro stairs. "rockefeller" he answered with a smile. "to do what?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "skating" he answered leading you to a seat. "aw i haven't done that in so long. i used to go with my mom" you told him. "i know, safiya told me." he rubbed a thumb over your knuckles and only now did you realize neither of you had let go.

"you're such a sweetheart, i never would've guessed" you said. "what do you mean?" "i don't know. like i would've never thought we'd be going on a date. or that you would be so thoughtful" you shrugged. "i'm full of surprises, chiquita" he said with a smug look on his face. "yeah whatever" you giggled, resting your head on his shoulder.

you were still hand in hand walking to the entrance to purchase your tickets. “okay well now i feel overdressed” you sulked, taking off your heels. “nah you look good. don’t be afraid to show everybody else up” he got in his knee in front of you and helped you put your feet into the skates. thank goodness you wore socks. he looked up at you and the action felt so intimate while he gently placed your right foot in the skate.

soon after he put his skates on and put your bag and shoes in a locker. he took your hand again and helped you walk out on the rink. you were immediately losing your balance, throwing an arm around his shoulder to hold you steady. “aight i swear safiya told me you used to do this all the time.” he laughed. “only sometimes! and i never actually learned” you giggled.

unlike your clumsy and struggling to find balance movements, miles was smooth and moving with ease, hand on your waist to keep you up right. “how do you know how to skate” you asked him. “unlike you, i actually tried to learn” he joked.

for the majority of the time you stayed close the walls using them to move without making a fool of yourself. miles slowed down to match your pace, practically showing off how easy it came to him.

“alright come on” suddenly he was in front of you and grabbing your hands to pull you out in the middle. “alright wait wait wait wait” you frantically put your hands on his arms. “aye you need to learn chica. hold my hands and watch my feet” he told you. you followed his instructions as he pulled you along, yet yours remained unmoving.

he laughed “you know you gotta move yours too right. just copy how i’m moving mines but in the other direction”

he was in control but you followed his movements and eventually got the hang of it, enough to even move on your own. “atta girl, it ain’t even that hard” he smiled at you and you geeked at his praise. he grabbed your hand again and turned your body in a little twirl. which wound up with you falling into his chest nearly sending him to the ground. “aight so we not that far yet” he laughed. he looked at you before pressing a kiss on your lips.

you continued skating until your time slot was up and you got your things and left. “hungry?” he asked you. you nodded your head and responded with a small mhm before he led you down the street to a cozy restaurant.

you sat down and he ordered a plate of appetizers for you both. you talked the whole time throughout the meal, laughing your ass off. he excused himself for a moment and you kept your eyes on him watching as he found your waiter and told him something.

he came back after a minute and sat down and you guys got back to talking. after a few minutes your waiter came back with two plates, one with a raspberry brownie with fudge and one with strawberry caramel cheesecake - your favorite. he put the plates down and sent a wink to miles before walking away.

you looked down at the plate and it had the words ‘will you let me be your boyfriend?’ written in caramel drizzling. you gushed and bit your lip to hide the huge grin that spread across your face “ohh my god i thought you were literally never gonna ask” you giggled. “is that a yes?” “yes, it’s a yes” you smiled. he leaned over to the table to kiss you, hand placed on your cheek.

you finished your desserts and miles paid the bill before you left the restaurant. you practically couldn’t stay off each other on the walk to the subway station, you arms were wrapped around his and when you complained that your feet were hurting he leaned down so you could climb on his back.

you sat down on the train and he rest a hand on your thigh while you laid your head on his shoulder. “still got one more thing to show you. you down?” he asked. “yeah, for whatever”

you got off and he led you back to his graffiti site. “now how i’m supposed to climb that fence in these heels” you twisted your mouth to the side. he chuckled. “i’ll go over first throw them over the wall and i’ll hold them till you get over duh”

you followed his instructions and hopped the fence before leading you down. there was a wall, once blank now decorated with your face, detailed and big across the wall. you looked so beautiful through his eyes. he moved up next to you and took your hand in his. “ughh you are so..” you didn’t finish your sentence you just put your hands up to his face and brought your lips to his in a heartfelt kiss.

he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you in closer. his other hand moved to push your curl out of your face and at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. his hand slid down to your ass making your lips part slightly and his tongue slid in your mouth. the blaring sound of your ringtone made you jump and you sighed seeing it was your dad calling. “hey baby, you on your way home yet? it’s getting late, think you’d better come inside” he told you.

“okay i’ll see you” you answered, hanging up the phone. “it’s my dad, he wants me home” you sighed. “alright let’s go” he said.

you hopped the fence again making your way out of the station. “your feet still hurt?” he asked you. “a little bit” you answered. “well then hop on madame” he joked, leaning down so you could get back on his back.

you talked the whole way home, literally talking his ear off as your chin rest by his shoulder. “sorry if i’m talking too much” you said. “no it’s okay i like listening to you.” you smiled and buried your face in his shoulder, hiding the giddy expression on your face.

he got to your apartment building and gently put you back on the ground. “i’m really glad you asked to be my boyfriend.” you told him. “i’m really glad to be your boyfriend” he smiled. you held his face and pressed your lips against his before pulling away. “goodnight miles” you said. “good night, hermosa” he said back, easing away as you walked in your house.

taglist ౨ৎ

@prettypink-princesss @itsnotino @r3d0n33 @iluvprowlermiles @jmsanchoo @stevenknightmarc @melllinaa @444morales @noetophat @bigdikzaddy

[anotherspnfanfic]

Surprise Visits

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x reader

Word count: 2400

Warnings: seizure, epileptic reader, possible inaccuracies

Summary: Eddie shows up unexpectedly. Reader is glad he did for more than one reason.

A/N: This is only my second time writing for Eddie and last time it was a co-write. I did a whole bunch of research and had some proof reading from the lovely @thatonewriter15 and @muchamusedaboutnothing. Hopefully this is a somewhat accurate representation... 🤞🏻

Trudging up the stairs towards her apartment, she cursed the elevators for being broken. All she wanted to do was collapse into her bed and sleep for two days. Unfortunately, that was impossible since it was only Wednesday and she had an important meeting first thing in the morning.

Passing the third floor, she considered if she was going to eat before she went to bed. She was starving, but cooking seemed like too much effort and time. Then she considered having something delivered but guessed that would take even longer than cooking. She decided to just eat a spoonful of peanut butter so that she wasn’t battling hunger while trying to fall asleep.

Finally reaching the fifth floor, she exited the stairwell and took the four steps to her door. It was a small victory for climbing the stairs— at least she didn’t have further to go once she got to her floor.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Immediately, she dumped her purse, jacket, and laptop case on the floor beside the door before pulling her shoes off one at a time to drop in the pile.

Rounding the corner into the living room, she gasped. Her favorite scented candle was lit on the coffee table next to several containers of Chinese take-out. Eddie stood from the couch as she approached.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she let herself fall into his embrace.

He pecked a kiss to her temple as he pulled back to look at her. “You sounded a little overwhelmed when you called earlier. So I had Buck take Christopher for the night, and I brought you dinner.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she was overcome with emotions. “I love you. You are the best. I was about to eat some peanut butter because I’m too exhausted to cook or wait for delivery.”

“And let me guess, you’ve barely eaten anything all day?” he chastised.

She shrugged. “I had a bagel for breakfast.”

He pulled her over to sit on the couch. “I’m glad I came then.”

“I’m really glad you did.” She grabbed a fortune cookie while he started to open the other containers. “Are you staying all night?”

He nodded. “I’m all yours. Buck is taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow.” He dumped some rice on the plates he’d gotten out of the kitchen. “Chicken, beef, or shrimp?”

“Some of each, please.” She set the fortune cookie back down as she stood. ”I’m gonna go change out of these work clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Before Eddie could even finish dishing up the food, she returned in sweats and a shirt she’d stolen from him.

As she sat back down, she picked up and opened the fortune cookie. She pulled out the piece of paper. “‘Life will soon become interesting,’” she read. “I think it’s already plenty interesting.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, where’s the one that says we get a vacation soon?”

He finished adding everything to their plates as she flipped on the television and started an episode of How I Met Your Mother.

They ate in a comfortable silence and had finished before the twenty-minute episode had ended. He set the mostly-empty plates on the table, and she shifted to curl in against his side while he wrapped his arm snugly around her shoulder.

As the credits rolled, he asked, “Bed or another episode?”

She yawned. “One more. I’m probably going to fall asleep, but I’m comfy.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as the TV rolled over into a new episode on its own. “As you wish, mi amor.”

She had just started to doze off when, suddenly, she was overcome with a familiar, distinct, full-body tingling sensation along with intense nausea. She quickly shifted to leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

Eddie reached out and placed a tentative hand between her shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?”

She stood and moved over to the empty dining room, which she kept devoid of a table and other furniture precisely for this reason. “Seizure,” she stated as calmly as she could before lying down in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Eddie was surprised, but quickly stood. He grabbed a blanket from the recliner and moved to sit beside her. He knew about her epilepsy and the medications she took for it. However, in the eighteen months they’d been dating, she’d never had a seizure. He lifted her head to slide the folded blanket underneath.

She let out a quiet whimper before her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Okay. You’re okay. I got you.” He pulled out his phone, opened the timer, and set it on the floor. He continued to whisper soft reassurances to her and started the timer as soon as she started to seize.

Despite his training and having treated patients with seizures at work, he couldn’t help but notice the way his hands shook as he carefully kept her rolled on her side. “You’re okay,” he repeated, more to reassure himself than anything. He continued to repeat it several more times as he waited for her to stop.

He felt his anxiety spike again as he watched the timer hit four minutes. He thought about what time it was, trying to figure out which shift was manning the 118 currently. He knew if she hit five minutes, he would have to call 9-1-1. As the timer rolled past four and a half minutes, her movements finally began to slow. He breathed a sigh of relief and pushed some hair out of her face as she stilled. Next, he used the corner of the blanket to wipe the saliva that had dribbled out.

For his own peace of mind, he checked her pulse, satisfied that it was steady and only slightly tachy. Next, he counted her breaths, ensuring her breathing was also back to normal. Then he sat there, running his fingers gently through her hair, and waited for her to wake.

Finally, after several minutes of anxiously waiting, she groaned.

“Hey, sweetheart. You with me?”

Slowly, she cracked her eyes open and looked around for several moments before finally landing on his face. She was clearly confused and still disoriented.

“You’re okay. You just had a seizure,” he explained. “Do you remember feeling it coming on?”

She thought for a minute before finally nodding. Groaning again, she rolled onto her back and threw an arm over her face. “Trash,” she slurred.

Eddie shifted away to grab the trash can sitting in the corner and move it beside her. “Do you want to sit up?”

“Not yet.” She lied there, trying to regain her bearings.

He took her hand in his and ran his thumb softly over her knuckles. “Anything I can do?”

“Mmmm, make the jackhammer in my head stop? And the nausea, too.” She rolled back onto her side before starting to push herself into a sitting position and pulling the trash can between her knees. “This blows.”

Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her temple. “I know. I’m sorry. Do you want something for the headache?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to puke it right back up.”

She didn’t know how long she sat there, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to clear the nausea. All the while, Eddie rubbed soothing circles across her back. The soreness was already starting to settle in all her muscles. Eventually, she pushed away the trash can and leaned into him.

“Ya know, this isn’t the kind of interesting I was hoping for. Stupid fortune cookie,” she grumbled.

“Me either. You think you’re ready to move?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her gently.

“Yeah.” She nodded. He stood, and she reached a hand out for him. “Help me up?”

Instead of pulling her up, he bent down and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back and easily lifted her. He walked slowly towards her bedroom, cautious of making the nausea worse, then set her gently on the bed. “What do you need?”

“Uh, I will take that Tylenol now. Plus, water and some Advil for in the morning, and the trash can by the bed,” she listed, then, with a pout, added, “Please?”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

She laid back into her pillows as she waited for him to return. Next thing she knew, she was peeling her eyes open to find Eddie beside her, rubbing a hand across her head.

“Here, take these and then you can go to sleep.” He handed her the pills and then opened a bottle of water before offering that as well.

Once she’d swallowed them, she took a few deep breaths to clear the flare of nausea. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He pressed another kiss to her hairline.

“As much as seizures suck, it’s really nice having you here to help. I’ve just slept on the floor in there so many times because I just didn’t have the energy to move.”

“I’m glad I was here. I hate that you’ve had to go through that alone.”

“I hate that I have to go through it at all.” She sighed. “And I just broke my longest streak. At least I didn’t try to take a chunk out of my tongue.”

“Ouch.”

She nodded. “Yeah, one time, I had to get stitches from biting it so bad.”

He cringed. “That sounds awful.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering closed. “Work is really going to suck tomorrow.”

“No, it won’t.” Eddie argued. ”You’re taking the rest of the week off.”

“I can’t!’ she declared, opening her eyes and leaning forward. “I have too many things to get done and a meeting first thing that we’ve been working toward for three weeks.”

“You just had a seizure,” he pointed out the obvious. “For the first time in, what, two years? And a long one at that. You were about twenty seconds away from a trip to the hospital. You don’t think your stress levels had something to do with this?” His tone was one of frustration, but she could tell he was just worried.

She sighed, knowing he was right. “Maybe.”

Eddie climbed into the other side of the bed and settled nearly in the middle. “So take the long weekend. Just relax and get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Shifting to curl into his side, she giggled. “You’re not a doctor.”

He huffed. “Medic’s orders. Is that better? Or I can call a doctor.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Rolling impossibly closer to her, he pressed one more kiss to her forehead. “Good night, mi amor.”

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her alarm clock. She was surprised to find it was nearly ten already. Slowly, she shifted onto her back and turned her head to look at the other side of the bed. She found Eddie sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Good morning,” he greeted as he noticed she was awake. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore. Which is pretty much what I expected.” She took Eddie’s hand in hers. “And maybe a little grateful that I got to sleep in and I don’t have to get up and go to work.”

He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “You needed it.”

“Oh, shit!” she panicked. “I didn’t call. I missed the meeting. I’m gonna get fired!”

Eddie shushed her. “I called. Just breathe. It’s okay. I called earlier and talked to your boss. He knows you’ll be out today and tomorrow and told me to tell you to take Monday also, if you need to.”

She took a deep breath and let herself relax. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course. How about some breakfast?”

“Mmm. Yes, please.”

Eddie let go of her hand and got up off the bed. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared out of the room, and she could hear him moving around her kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a plate and set it on the bed in front of her.

She looked up at him, surprised. “Since when do you make omelettes?”

“Uhh, well, never?” He laughed. “I may have called in reinforcements. Bobby dropped it off earlier. I just reheated it according to his very direct instructions.”

“Eddie! I could have just had some cereal or something. You didn’t need to make him drive over here so early on his day off.” She reached over to grab her phone off the nightstand.

“I figured you could use real food. I was going to order delivery, but Bobby offered.”

“Why would he have offered?” She opened Bobby’s contact to send him a thank you text. “Oh. You told him about last night.”

“I couldn’t fall asleep. Then they were all texting in the group thread. So when they asked why I was still up, I told them. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have without asking you first.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like my epilepsy is a secret. They’re your—our— friends. I’m sure I would have told them anyway.”

He nodded. “Okay. Eat and then you can go back to sleep for a bit. If you want.”

She cut a piece off the omelette and ate it. As she chewed, she spoke, “Bobby says we’re invited over there for dinner if I’m feeling up to it. I told him we would let them know a little later today.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

She took another bite of her food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Shaking his head, he explained, “I ate earlier.”

“Oh, right.” She glanced at the clock. “I forgot it was so late already.”

“Anything else I can get for you?”

She contemplated for a moment. “Umm, maybe a glass of apple juice?”

He disappeared from the room with a simple nod.

Soon after he returned, she finished her omelette and he took the plate into the kitchen.

“Did you want to go back to sleep?” he asked.

“How about a shower and then a movie on the couch?” she countered, throwing off the blankets she was still tucked under. As she stood, dizziness flared, causing her to sway slightly before sitting back down.

Eddie was in front of her instantly, steadying her. “How about a bath instead?”

“Sounds perfect.”

[like-apollo]

A Funky Friendsgiving

[I thought it would be fun to include some characters from my last story]

You were laying on your back in Anthony's king size bed, as his tan bubble butt was spread across your face.  “Don’t be shy babe, eat it up” he said as he was grinding on you, rocking up and down your face causing his hole to move from your nose to your mouth, back and forth. It smelled so bitter yet sweet.  “I mean it is Thanksgiving after all.”

The movement was building pressure around his puckered ass and you knew you were trapped.  Not that you minded

BBbbbrrRrRAaaaaPppptt 

“Ahhhh there you go, baby” he sighed as your tongue pressed against his hole and penetrated deep into his anal canal, causing him to realase more heavy gas down your throat. 

PhhFfrttPtt.

“Kiss it for me, babe?”  He kept ripping ass while grinding on your open mouth and up your nose.  You knew it was the only air you would be breathing tonight but you didn’t care.  It was coming from Anthony’s beautiful buttocks and you had no plans to stop…

Earlier that night, you arrived at your friend Christina’s house for a friendsgiving.  You had been looking forward to catching up with some good friends that you’ve known since high school.  It’s tough to get everyone together being in your 30s now, but you always made it work and it was always worth it. 

Even your friend Dante who you hadn’t seen in several months showed up, which was a nice surprise.  He brought his father David.  His dad was extremely fit and good looking for his age and you couldn’t help but to admire him.  Even though he was older, he fit in with everyone and made good company.  You happened to notice that Dante and David seemed very close for a father and son. Their energy threw you off at first, but you tried not to read into it too much.  Everyone was having a good time, after all.

With such a diverse group of friends, there was an exceptional mix of cuisine:  Dante and David brought their delicious Macaroni and Cheese; Noel brought a large platter of brown rice and beans along with a side of cheesy beef empenadas; Anthony brought his home made stuffed shells; Tia made mashed potatoes and a side of brussel sprouts; you brought a broccoli and cheddar fondu; and Christina, being the host, prepared a delicious turkey with a side of gravy and stuffing.  There was way more than enough food for the 7 of you.

Everyone was catching up and having a good time.  You stepped away to get a beer when suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yo man!  Long time no see.”  You tunred around to see your friend Anthony.  Anthony was tall, handsome guy and he always had your back, even in your earlier school days.  Being an extrovert, Anthony now worked in sales and introduced you to a lot of people throughout the years, both friends and colleagues.  He was charismatic and always made people feel comfortable, but he was also a great friend. You couldn't help but admire his charm. 

“Hey Tony!  I was just grabbing a drink.”  Tony walked with you to the kitchen as you caught up with each other.  You've always had a crush on Anthony, but your friendship never went beyond that.  He knew you were gay from the beginning which helped him open up to you when he began exploring his own sexual identity and thoughts about other men, but it was more platonic.  Plus he had been living with his boyfriend Alex for over a year now and you cared about his happiness more than anything. 

Still, you felt more of an attraction to him tonight and noticed he was talking to you more than any of your friends.   Not that you minded, but it was hard to keep your feelings down - literally as your cock jumped in your pants every time he spoke. 

After a few drinks, it was time for dinner.  You looked in awe at the abundance of a delcious dinner in front of you.  Anthony grabbed 2 plates and handed one to you.  “Look, so there’s something I wanted to tell you.  After my promotion, I was actually able to move out and get a place of my own.  It was rough at first, but I’m making it work.”

You didn’t really understand what he meant.  Last time you checked, him and Alex were doing well together.  “Oh wow. I mean that’s great Tone, but you and Alex already had your own place, no?” 

“Yeah, so about that...”  Anthony was loading his plate up now.  He started with the Mac and Cheese and then added rice and beans. “As you know, me and Alex have gone through our ups and downs in the past.”  He was piling up his plate now with turkey, brussel sprouts, 2 empanadas, stuffed shells and mashed potatoes.  “We were always able to work through them, but we got into a big argument and there’s just no going back.”

You honestly didn’t know what to say. On one hand, you were shocked.  I mean, you cared about your friend, but it also low key made you excited knowing that he was single again.  But you also wanted to be there for him.  “Wow Tony, wait so back up, everything was going good between you and Alex, so what happened?” 

“I don’t really know how to tell you man, but“

“Sheesh Tony, the food isn’t going anywhere” he was interrupted by your other good frined Noel, noticing the mountain of dinner on his plate.  “I can’t even see the plate underneath!”

“Relax Noel, there’s definitely more than enough food here.” Christina chimed in.

“Yeah, but we all know what happens to Tony’s stomach when he eats too much.” Noel said grinning.

Noel was great guy and he was part of your inner circle back in the day.  What he was referring to was Anthony’s lactose intolerance, which you all were familiar with.  Even when he took his digestive enzymes, Tony’s gas was heavy and lethal. And dairy just added fuel to the flames.  Tonight his plate was full of different cheesy foods in addition to the turkey.

Tony walked over to Noel: “Life’s too short, man.” he turned his back to Noel.  “Sometimes you just gotta let loose-”

BbbbBBrrRRppPPttt

“…and live a little” he said as he ripped a booming 7 second fart right on Noel’s plate.

“Come on Tone, that was right on my food!”  Noel said frustrated as he walked to the living room.  Anthony just gave an evil smirk as he followed behind Noel.  Everyone was laughing about it as they went to the living room – well, everyone except for you.

Aside from the potent stench, his fart didn't really phase you. You stood in the kitchen for a moment contemplating what to do.  You really wanted to tell Anthony about your feelings tonight, and he just disclosed that he was single now, so you had the freedom to speak on it.  Still, as his friend, you wanted to know what happened with Alex. You wanted to talk to him, alone.

Back in the living room, everyone was eating and chatting.  Anthony was enjoying his massive plate while chatting with Dante and David.  You walked over and sat with them, trying to join in the conversation. 

“Man that was a pretty gnarly fart earlier” Dante said with a laugh.  “Can’t imagine how bad it’s going to get after dinner.” 

“Trust me, it’s gonna keep me up all night.” Dante and David gave each other an interesting look, which you never understood to this day. But your mind was occupied about Anthony to think too much about it.

Anthony finished his plate without saying a word to you.  You felt a shift in the energy, as he got up and walked to the bathroom.  As the night went on, you caught up with your other friends.  You tried to talk to Anthony again but it was as if he ignored you.  He was showing you so much attention at the start of the party, so what was going on?

By the end of the night, everyone was saying their goodbyes until it was just you and Anthony.  You both decided to leave together and after saying goodbye to Christina, you walked outside in silence.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night Tony” you said breaking the silence.  “You okay?”

“I’m good man, it was just a little bit uncomfortable earlier” he was finally opening up to you.

“Look, Tony, I’m not sure what happened but you can talk to me about anything.”

He looked at you and took a deep breath, then closed his eyes forcefully as he leaned forward.

BBBbbBBBRrrrRRPPPbbBBUUuuUUUMMMPpppPPPFFfffFTttTTt

He let out a loud, chunky 23-second fart that shook the whole street and set off the neighbor’s car alarm.   Even being outside, the smell hit burned the inside of your nostrils as you began coughing.

“Damn Tony, you might wanna check your pants. I was just-“

He interrupted you.  “Look I don’t know how to say this, but here it goes: yes, I have some powerful gas. But it’s not for everyone.  Alex wasn’t a fan of it.  We ended up getting into a huge fight over it.  The reason I left is because he couldn’t take it and he wasn’t open to it.”  he was looking at the ground now.  “He told me it was disgusting…”

“Wow, Tony, I’m so sorry man, I had no idea.  I mean it seems a little extreme to break up over farting.”  You wanted to tell him more about your feelings, but you were just trying to be there for your friend at this point.

“Well it’s not just about the gas.  The thing of it is, I have a kink for farting on other men.  I haven't been able to explore that yet. And I wanted to with Alex.  He seemed so open minded when we first met and I thought that after so much time he’d be willing to try it” Anthony said, now looking up at you.  “And the other thing is, seeing you tonight just made me feel good again.  But I didn’t want this to weird you out.  I mean I saw how Alex reacted…” It was all making sense now as to why he was ignoring you.  

Somehow through the gas, you were extremely turned on.  You had never really tried anything with farts before but just the idea of Anthony being so vulnerable in this moment about his deepest desire was turning you on. You didn't understand it but you were open to it.

“Look Tony I gotta be honest with you man.  It’s always been you.  I’ve always liked you.  Yes, your gas is powerful, but that never really bothered me.  Actually, if you want, we could try it out sometime…”

He grabbed your hand. “Well hopefully Christina doesn’t mind keeping your car overnight.  And we can just tell her you drank too much or something” He said with a laugh. Now Tony was the one getting hard at the thought of farting in your face all night.  “Would you wanna come back to my place?”

You couldn’t say no to him.  The thought of being with Anthony, who you've known for years, and the thought of taking his beautiful ass just felt right.  His stomach was rumbling at this point and he was ready to give you all of his built up gas, and you had no choice but to be there for him. 

You made it back to his car. As he puilled out of the driveway, he locked all of the windows.  

BrrRRrRRMmpppffffFffFt. The first of many deadly farts erupted and he moaned in relief, hand on his stomach.  The smell was intoxicating and you felt your eyes water being trapped in his car.  You honestly weren’t sure if you could take it but that was just turning you on more. Not to mention that it was giving Anthony so much pleasure and fulfilling his desires. Your dick was growing in your pants.

You started giving him a belly rub as he drove back to his place.  You could feel the bubbling in his guts as he was driving quicker.  The combination of all the food he ate was really messing with his stomach.

PffFfFFFFrRUrrrtT His farts kept coming out and shaking his seat.  “Ugh babe I have so much gas tonight.  I hope you’re ready for it.”  The smell was overpowering your mind.  You moved your hand down from his stomach and felt his throbbing cock through his pants, which turned you on even more.  Good thing Anthony’s house was only a few minutes away.

Tthe smell was overpowering, but you were so turned on being inside in Anthony’s fart cloud and breathing in his gas.  It’s like he was conditioning you to fall in love with his funk.  He quickly parked and you looked at each other as he kissed you passionately in the midst of his stink.  You were both precumming now, as he licked your lips and you felt his tongue inside your mouth. You both made it inside to his room, while he ripped as with each step up the stairs. 

You walked in first and he followed, closing the door behind him.  You walked over to his bed and he followed.  “Baby, you know you’re gonna take all of this ass tonight, right?” he says taking his pants off.

He turned around and you saw his bubble butt busting out of his slacks as he threw them to the wall.  He turned around to reveal his 8 inch rock hard cock poking through his underwear.  You were staring in awe, dick throbbing as you began to unbutton your own pants when he pushed you back on the bed. He turned around and stood above you. 

You saw his beautiful ass pointed out getting closer to your face as his legs straddled each side of your torso.  He finished taking your pants off as his ass rested on your face like two firm pillows until he was pressing full weight on your warm face.

Anthony pulled out your dick and jerked you off as he leaned forward .  You gripped his waist and pushed his butt farther down onto your face as his cheeks spread further apart in his underwear.

BbBbBBrRRrRoOommMmpppFffttt.

This was the first of his farts that you ever took directly to the face and the smell hit you instantly. You had no choice but to breathe it in and smell his toxic fumes.  “Ahhhh fuck baby, having your face on my ass is what I've been waiting for.”  Even through his thin briefs, you could still taste the bitter aroma of the enormous plate he ate earlier. 

He ascended up giving you a moment of semi-fresh air with the smell of his farts still lingering and pulled down his underwear to reveal his glorious, tan bubble butt.  It was slightly hairy and his raw, unwashed crack looked delicious. 

You were laying on your back in his king size bed as he spread his bare, tan ass across your face, feeling the rim of his smooth asshole brush up against your mouth.  “Don’t be shy babe, eat it up” he said as he was grinding on you, rocking up and down. It smelled so bitter yet sweet.  bBBBbruuppPppFfT “I mean it is Thanksgiving after all.”

He was moving his butt up and down your face while your tongue was going in and out of his dirty hole.

BBbbbrrRrRAaaaaPppptt 

“Ahhhh there you go, baby” he sighed as your tongue pressed against his hole and penetrated deep into his anal canal, causing him to realase more gas down your throat. 

PhhFfrttPtt.

“Kiss it for me, babe?”  He kept ripping ass while still grinding on your open mouth and up your nose.  You knew it was the only air you would be breathing tonight but you didn’t care.  You were in heaven with Anthony, enjoying all his gas. 

“Fuuuucckkkkk babe, I hope you weren’t tired tonight, because I have no plans of stopping.”  You opened your mouth and planted it around his ass, pushing deeper as he pressed harder on your smothered face. 

BRRRrrRrooOommFfrRRooUUmppttTT

“Mmmhhhhh-ugh” Anthony was moaning in pleasure as your entire mouth surrounded his throbbing hole.  He ripped more and more ass.  You could feel the pressure release from his body as he moaned in relief.  

Even though you could barely breathe, you kept licking Anthony’s hole and taking all of his bitter farts, as you felt his warm mouth surround your throbbing cock. You released loads of thick cum down his throat until it overflowed from his mouth.  “Nngghhh” You heard a faint strain from above before

BBBBBBBbBBbbbrRRruuUuUMUmNnnNNNMMPPPpPpFfftTTTtttTTsss

The strong pressure from his hole released a violent, meaty eruption of farts that lasted more than 60 seconds, with his toxic fumes releasing directly into your face, forcing you to breathe pure gas.  Your vision became blurry until you were unconscious, knocked out by Anthony’s dirty farts.

[piratekane]

one month.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beatrice feels herself blush. “I doubt it.”

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

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

“I suppose…” she starts slowly.

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

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

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

“How kind of you.”

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

Beatrice blinks. “My favorite food?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stir-fry.”

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

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

But Ava nods encouragingly.

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

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

“Do we need to go grocery shopping?”

“We’re doing this now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never had Sumbal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This enough?”

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

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

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

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

Ava is, in a word, clumsy. 

In two words, she’s charmingly clumsy.

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

“Have you handled a chef’s knife?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ava frowns. “Not the chicken?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. No, I’ll remind you as we go.”

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

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

Ava’s cheeks flush. “One time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ava turns, eyes wide. “Sorry.”

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

Ava blinks at her. “I need to what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Help me?” Ava finally asks.

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

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

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

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

This is love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ava stops wriggling. “Don’t-”

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

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

“You won’t need stitches.”

“Bea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

two months.

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

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

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

Warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite the balmy air, Beatrice shivers. 

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

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

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

Beatrice feels her cheeks redden. “Ava.”

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

She sighs. “Ava.”

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

Am I denying you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The… the drain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ava nods jerkily. “Sure. Totally cool.” 

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

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

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

“You did it.” 

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

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

“You said shallow end.”

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

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

“I’m right here.” 

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

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

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

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

“You’re holding on,” Ava points out.

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

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

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

Beatrice smiles. “See?”

Ava beams. “Treading water? Check.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beatrice has to shake her head, blinking rapidly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pull it together. She swallows heavily.

“I’m fine.”

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

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

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

“Stay afloat,” Beatrice finishes.

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

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

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

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

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

Pull it together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That can be enough.

“You don’t have to do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

~

three months.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can make you some tea.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” Ava grumbles.

Beatrice smiles patiently. “Tough day?”

“You know Francesca, in my history class?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?”

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

“Ava.”

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

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

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

“Ava,” Beatrice says sharply.

Ava blinks. “What?”

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

As long as it isn’t right through you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, what if I make you a deal?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just like treading water.”

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

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

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

“Of course.”

“Don’t doubt me, Beatrice.”

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

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

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

“What? Right now?”

“Whatever you’re doing-”

“Biochemistry.”

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

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

She especially wants to spend her time doing that.

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

Ava beams. “We’ll be quick.”

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

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

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

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

Ava immediately loosens it and her fingers fall apart. 

Beatrice laughs. “No, not like that.” 

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

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

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

“I want to hurt Eduardo.”

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

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

“Inside, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would she allow Beatrice to be a little closer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ava doesn’t hear her. “The Halo.”

“The Halo.”

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

“Ava,” she scolds.

“That could be my official superhero artwork.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ava pitches to one side.

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

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

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

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

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

“Show you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so stay low.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Butter knife sharp or-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tension breaks. Beatrice breathes out a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have homework,” Beatrice sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just use your words, Beatrice.”

Maybe she just needs to adopt a new one.