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leehaner · 3 months

Text

Talk: Chapter 1

pairing: leehan taesan x fem!reader

genre: ANGST, love triangle, slowburn, eventual smut, fuckboy!leehan, college au, undecided ending + genre tbh im lit writing this on a whim bffs

word count: 2k

summary: find out

warnings: none for this chapter!

“Please tell me this is the last fucking box y/n” said your friend Jaehyun as he put down one of your many boxes of clothes for the semester.

He’d offered to help you move into your dorm at your newly transferred school, which he also attended.

“You maybe carried one box in here and it was the lightest one, if you were going to complain so much why'd you offer to help move me in? Sungho was going to come instead”, you said in between laughs and you’re sure he replied back with something equally as dramatic as what he’d said earlier but you were deep in thought thinking about whether or not you made the right choice to transfer here.

“Are you even listening to me?!” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? oh. Sorry….what’d you say?”

“ I saiiiiiiiiid that one of my friends is having a party near campus tonight and you’re coming. It’ll be good for you to meet new people other than me and Sungho. I’ll come get you and everything!”, he says, leaving almost no room for you to say no and pleading with his hands for you to say yes. It was always really hard for you to say no to him because he’d been one of your closest friends since high school and he always knew what was best for you before you even knew it, so, you agree under one condition.

“Okay whatever just don’t leave me alone at the party because I will leave so fucking fast”

“Then how else will you learn to make friends”

“not going”

“OKAY DAMN I won't leave you alone…. it’s not like sungho won’t be there anyway and i'll introduce you to our roommates'' he says while putting your clothes on hangers in annoyance.

Roommates. That word unexpectedly makes you nervous because up to this point you’d heard crazy stories about Jaehyuns experience with them and the thought of meeting people is always out of your comfort zone. You wouldn’t call yourself shy, but you’re more closed off than you’d like to admit.

“ I should probably also warn you ...one of our roommates, he’s kind of an asshole. So don’t take anything he does too seriously”

Ugh, you’re already dreading this.

“Okay”

And with that you and Jaehyun spend the next two hours or so fixing up your single dorm bickering and fooling around for most of those two hours but you finished nonetheless.

“okay see you later y/n and take your phone off dnd, you’re not getting out of going to this party tonight” he says walking out of your dorm gathering his phone and hoodie from your freshly made bed.

“wasn't planning on it!” you lied. you were definitely planning to shower then sleep and blame the no response to his texts on dnd.

“yeah OKAY, bye~!” the boy says, taking one final stride out of the door and letting it slam behind him which makes you roll your eyes.

After roughly 20 minutes of mindlessly scrolling on your phone you decide it’s time to shower and get ready for the party you were dreading with every fiber of your being.

8:36pm

It's now been an hour since you started getting ready and you were now checking your outfit in your mirror. You were a bit unsatisfied but not enough to change for what would now be the third time of the night. You were dressed rather provocatively but you didn’t care, it made you feel good.Your makeup was already done and now all that was left was to spray perfume and check your phone to see when Jaehyun would be coming to pick you up.

You remembered that he’d probably be bringing his roommates and you were happy to see Sungho as you hadn’t seen him in a while but it was intimidating to meet the rest of them. Still, you were able to, for the most part, shake that feeling off.

myung: hey im like a min away rapunzel let down ur hairrrrrr

you: need you to b normal so bad

myung: HURRY TF UP im downstairs

You walked out of your dorm room and sprinted to the nearest elevator pressing the buttons urgently and waiting for it to come up for a few seconds but it felt like a thousand years were going by so you thought maybe it’d be quicker to take the stairs and slowly started to turn around.

beep

The elevator doors open and someone grabs your arm and turns you around gently. you had an immediate reaction to take your arm back but in an ever-so gentle manner.

“you don’t have to take the stairs” a husky voice says to you

you looked up at him and scanned his features for what felt like years to you but was only for a split second. He had long brown hair and even browner eyes that looked like the entire galaxy was in them.He ran his fingers through his hair with the hand that had just turned you around and put his phone in his back pocket with his other hand.

“Do you always grab strangers into elevators?” you ask him.

he took a few steps forward in order to hold the elevator open on one side

“technically you’re not in the elevator yet but this is my first time, hopefully I was easy enough on you” he replies cheekily with a smirk forming on his face.

You were shocked at how he could just make something so regular into a sex metaphor but somehow it worked. Still you rolled your eyes at the comment, making an automatic assumption about what kind of guy this stranger is.

“and a thank you would be nice”

“thanks” you respond making your way inside the elevator purposely avoiding the side he was evidently holding open for you. You notice he looks down, poking the side of his inner cheek with his tongue and smiling. He steps back into the elevator and you both reach to press buttons. You went for floor one while he went for floor two.

“Got a ride waiting for you or something?” he asks with what sounds like genuine curiosity.

“yeah, are you gonna follow me and kill me?” just as you say this jokingly the elevator doors open once more.

“Just curious but that does sound enticing” he smiles and faces you as he walks backwards out of the elevator trying not to break eye contact with you once.

You smiled to yourself at the small interaction knowing you’d never see him again as he was probably just heading to a hookup judging by the fact floor two of your dorm building was girls only. But ,still, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies from the chemistry filled banter you’d just had with a random stranger even if he was about to go fuck some random. It felt good.

myung: btw. you may or may not have to sit on someone’s lap because my car is not that big SORRYSORRYSORRYSOORY

you: bro im going back upstairs

myung: NO c'mon they’re excited to meet you and sungho has gummies in the glove compartment.. 😁

you: ….bribing me is crazy

myung: it’s the only way i fear🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️

myung: i see you coming down the stairs just walk straight then turn left a little and you’ll see my car

you follow his instructions and see his red car looking absolutely packed with men whom amongst them you only see one familiar face, Sungho.

“Y/N!!!!!!!! I haven’t seen you in forever, i missed you” the tall long haired boy says to you as his passenger side window is rolling down.

“ I missed you too” you gave him a warm smile. Jaehyun then steps out of the car and opens the back door for you revealing 3 boys, one with pink hair, another with short brown hair and the very last with long dark hair and a streak of blonde in the back of it. damn you thought, he’s attractive.

“ So from left to right this is Riwoo, Woonhak, Taesan and obviously you all know this is y/n” , Jaehyun says smiling and gesturing to everyone then you.

There was a sudden flow of nice to meet yous after that coming from all of you and they all seemed rather nice, you felt instantly welcomed by them especially Riwoo who you felt you’d grow close to quickly, he reminded you a lot of Jaehyun in a way you couldn’t exactly pinpoint but was there nonetheless.

“ Now that you’ve met …any of you want to sit on each other's lap so that y/n can sit?” Jaehyun says while scratching his head.

“ I don’t mind," Woonhak says, smiling and shrugging. You smile at his kind gesture and you and Jaehyun walk over to the other side of the car, he gets back into the driver's seat while you stand at the backdoor. Taesan opens the door, steps out and Woonhak follows suit, you assume he’d be sitting on Taesans lap in the middle. However as Taesan stepped out of the car you were shocked at how tall he was, he didn’t seem all that tall from the view you had of him at the start of this interaction but there he was, standing at probably six feet tall at least.

He very clearly checked you out from head to toe and smiled at you politely as he waited for Woonhak to step out of the car, it was like he was going to say something to you but he himself didn’t know what to say first. He then went to sit in the middle of the backseat shuffling into place and tapping his lap with both hands gesturing for Woonhak to sit there.

“Don’t ever do that again” Woonhak says laughing which also makes you and Taesan laugh and you then take a seat next to them and finally close the car door. You all then take off to the party.

On your ride there everyone was mostly on their phones or having small conversations over the somewhat loud music Sungho had on aux. You were looking out of your window and could see Taesan from your peripheral vision occasionally doing the same. Whenever he wasn’t looking out of the window he was staring at you, it felt like he was piercing through your skin with his eyes and maybe that feeling rooted from the fact you wished you could look at him back in that moment but then he’d know you could see him looking at you that whole time.

“Nah man don’t worry about it, he'll probably just be at the party later anyway”,Jaehyun says. You were curious who he was referring to as you overheard bits of his and Sunghos' conversation.

“ I don’t get why he didn’t just come with us” Sungho responds.

“don’t think too much about it seriously , he's always weird like that”, Jaehyun reassures him and with that the conversation ends leaving you wondering who they were just talking about.Ignoring your curiosity you put one of your earbuds in so you could listen to music for a bit.

now playing: the smiths - there is a light that never goes out

“I love the *muffled speech*

“What?”, you take off your singular earbud to ask what Taesan had just said to you

“I said I love the smiths”, he says to you with a smile that was so contagious, you smiled without even noticing.

“Do you want to listen with me?” you ask sweetly, to which he nods. you hand him the other earbud and you listen to music the rest of the car ride there.

you couldn’t help but feel butterflies from how he’d somehow get a brand new smile for each song that played or tapped his foot along to the sound, signaling that he liked your taste in music.

He’s so endearing you thought.

#leehan #taesan #angst #love triangle #boynextdoor #leehan x reader #taesan x reader #bnd x reader #boynextdoor x reader

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ra1nyd4yzz · 10 months

Text

Weird, perv Wilbur x sweet, gyrau reader!

warnings: smut, mentions of sex toys, use of sex toys, Wilbur's room is disgusting and vile. I really don't know any other warnings so if I missed any let me know!!

Taglist:@abbs-writes-nsfw

Words:763

this started off as nothing like I wrote a little blurb type thing in abbs asks and it kinda progressed and now we have this! I hope you like it also it was my first time writing smut so it's not great but I tried my best also its not edited. this took hours for some reason.

You now always teased Wilbur for how you guys started dating, i mean how could you not i mean you caught him jerking off to a photo of you of course you were going to tease the poor boy he deserved it for being a perv.

You were in his room, him laying in his bed watching you as you cleaned up his room. “Babe, you know I can clean it right?” He said looking at you like you were his goddess “yea but you wont i mean look at this ugh” you picked up a bowl of mouldy unfinished ramen “how old is this wil?” he looked at it “ohh that's where i put that huh i must have forgotten” he chuckled and you side put the bowl in a trash bag and you continued cleaning his room.

Putting dirty clothes in his unused clothes basket and bowls of mouldy ramen and cereal in the bin because you know those bowls could never be washed enough to get the mould off them.

You got on the ground after you cleared it and stuck your head under the bed, you decided you were cleaning everything out so under his bed and closet were getting cleaned out. Wilbur stared at your perfect body as you went down well. He was mainly staring at your ass but still it was perfect to him.

You pulled out a shoe box, weirdly it was the only one under his bed? You set it on his desk in front of his monitor. Wilbur was too intrapped in your glory he didn't notice the shoebox “what's this baby?” you asked and he had to drag his eyes from your body to the shoe box on his desk and he immediately freaked “sweetheart lets not open this box please its personal-” and before you could even hear the last part of his sentence you opened the shoebox and started giggling at the contents inside.

“Sex toys really wilbur?” you picked up a fleshlight “bet you used these while looking at photos of me you perv” you chuckled saying it as a joke, you turned to wilbur and he was looking down in his lap in guilt “you didn't actually did you wilbur?” no reply, your mouth slightly parted “wilbur?” you asked again he shamefully looked back up and grabbed it off you and shoved it back in the shoe box and closed it.

You chuckled at the thought of your pretty boy being a perv for you, you opened up the box and grabbed the fleshlight “y/n stop-” “take off your pants and boxers now wilbur” you said as you cut him off, the tone you had was new to him, more dominant and stern somehow still keeping your soft and sweet demeanour to it. He immediately obeyed you and threw off his sweats and boxer, you sat next to him in his bed and pulled him into your lap.

It was easy to pull him into your lap as he was lanky, his cock was already hard you chuckle “oh pretty boy your cocks already hard” you couldn't keep in your giggle and that just turned him on even more, you were his goddess “well sweetboy i dont really want to fuck so im gonna use this fleshlight to get you off okay sweetheart? Just imagine it's me alright, imagine it's my tight pussy around you” he nodded and whimpered, already unable to say words “sweet boy i need to hear a yes or i can't continue” you stroked his hair and ran your fingers through his gorgeous brown curls.

“Y-yes” you heard that and slowly lowered the fleshlight on his cock, he whimpered and whined in pleasure as you went up and now and praised him, he quickly gave in and cummed, you were so proud of your pretty boy.

“good job sweetheart, let me clean you up ok?” he nodded and you took the fleshlight off his dick and put it on his desk, he whined before moaning and you licked a strip up his cock, cleaning up the cum before stopping and getting up.

You quickly came back into his room with a chux and wiped up him and the mess on the bed before helping him into his boxers, you gave him one of his hoodies and he put it on, you guys cuddled “you did so good baby, I'm so proud of you alright” you caressed his cheek, he was so tired already and he mumbled and then fell asleep in your embrace.

#bimbo!reader #perv!wilbur #werid!wilbur #wilbur smut #wilbur soot smut

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nesquiiksstuff · 11 months

Text

✎ ❝general relationship headcanons!❞

syzoth (feat. ashrah), baraka, raiden

love languages

fluff

thouple (syzoth + ashrah + reader)

thank you guys for so much support! im just going this hc thingy while I think up this for the raiden story (which hopefully won’t take too long). please enjoy!! ᰔ

ᰔ syzoth :: quality time and gift giving

he is not uncomfortable to talk about his passed family, honestly syzoth would enjoy if his partner was interested in that part of his life. whether it’s recommending visiting their grave site, or sharing his grief—is something that he greatly appreciates.

the reason ashrah and syzoth work so well is because they’re both trying to right their sins, having you be there and being supportive means the absolute world. he shows you that through small thoughtful gifts (mostly trinkets that he finds at markets or on his walks).

idk if anyone is actually interested in a thouple with them…but hear me out 🤲. I genuinely think ashrah and syzoth would be so well rounded and loving. date nights either in Shaolin’s gardens or mileena’s palace (probably in the library), always romantic with stereotypical candle light and a nice dinner. syzoth thinks it’s important to make it special as possible since there’s only a few times when you’re all together.

. . .

ᰔ baraka: acts of service, words of affirmation, physical touch

what baraka truly needs is another leader. there is so much responsibility placed on his shoulders with the colony—but of course he would never truly ask you to help, he’s stubborn and well…has a guilty conscience. you would need to insert yourself without needing to be prompted. assertiveness and responsibility is something he finds extremely attractive, as well as being compassionate, gods knows that it’s also something he needs.

physical contact is foreign to him, after years of being alone once his family passed and being ill. he adores it when you bring some type of normalcy to touching him, though he’s the first to pull away. baraka knows the risk he puts you in everyday, if he can limit the chances of tarkat spreading to you—while still indulging this relationship, he will.

like asking for extra leadership—he wouldn’t pursue you. baraka wouldn’t ever expect another chance of love, in all honesty he would think that his pining is one sided. Though once you’ve established a relationship with him, he’s open with you. private moments with you are filled with him thanking you for the work you put in the colony, and how you treat not only him but others. even though he’s no poet, he makes sure you know he cherishes you.

. . .

ᰔ raiden: words of affirmation and quality time

usually he pursues people that he highly respects. you don’t have to do something exceptional, but having passion for your own beliefs is what he values in a person and especially in a partner. also it would be admirable if you were interested in his own goals and aspirations, after all raiden’s prospective has changed much once the events in outworld has passed.

raiden is humble…but he likes showing off to you—not exactly out of place of smugness but he enjoys when you are impressed at his talents. he smiles so brightly whenever you compliment him on his achievements or on his hard work in general. it’s probably one of his top motivation besides him genuinely enjoy what he’s doing.

if you two ever got the chance to go back to fengjian his first goal would to introduce you to his family, he has to be a mama’s boy. he cares deeply for his family and he wants you to feel included in that circle. besides visiting them, he’s taking you to see the sites and old hang out spots. leading you along by holding your hand keeping you close (I love him he’s so sweet ugh). it means everything that you’re willing to listen to his childhood stories and just with him in general to visit his hometown.

sadly i’m trying to keep his to minimum since my own little headcanons for him should show up in the story i’m writing for him :]

thank you for reading!

#baraka x reader #syzoth #mk1 x reader #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #raiden mk1 #syzoth mk1 #baraka #hcs #fluff #raiden x reader #x reader #ashrah #ashrah x reader #ashrah x syzoth #syzoth x reader

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christinarowie332 · 11 months

Text

i am his .

matt sturniolo x reader

pt 3 of “i’d be an idiot if i said no to that” and “i win” .

warnings - suggestive ? no droogs (boring ik)

y/n and reader realise maybe it ain’t just tension.

—————-

“matt your not even looking”

i say turning my head to look at him giggling , as i’m sat on his lap sideways at his desk .

“i am looking” he whispers lowly , still not looking away from me .

“oh i know your looking , your just not looking at this!!!” i say tapping the paper infront of us .

it’s been around two or three weeks since i hung out with them all and smoked together for the first time . since then i have barley left their apartment . nick and i have gotten so close , chris too .

turns out me and nick had more in common then i initially thought . we both loved melanie martinez , him ,her new stuff and me her old bangers . we also bonded over more personal things and silly things but it’s fair to say we are now attached at the hip . sleepovers . meeting my girl friends . added to group chats and staying up all night talking absolute nonsense and getting deep out of no where.

chris’s issues with him and his girlfriend were worse then we thought . his ramblings from the other night followed into the morning and ended up with us all realising she maybe isn’t the nicest girl . they broke up. this is one of the things that brought us closer . late night seshes talking and listening to music . walks when everyone else falls asleep . him annoying me for half the day .he’s turned into my little brother and i love tm the kid .

matt .

although there are no labels . i am his . not in a toxic way . i am just trilly enamoured with everything this man does . waking up to him smiling down at me . late night drives ending with not so pg moments . his light touches , speaking more then words . the only other language i would ever want to understand . his smile when he sees me and his brothers getting along well . and it’s the same for me . everytime i see his cold mask and attitude drop , everytime i catch him smiling while his brothers talk , everytime a song plays that he likes , watching his shoulders relax and the corner of his mouth twitch , it seems i can physically feel my heart swelling .

so here we are now , in his bedroom after hanging out all day , trying to get him to learn cursive . a silly thing i realised this man could not grasp for the life of him .

“MATT ITS NOT THAT HARD YOU JUST LINK THE LETTERS TOGETHER!!” i jokingly shout through chuckles . grabbing his hand from my thigh and putting the pen in his hand.

“ugh i dont get it !!! it looks stupid bro” he whines out putting his chin on my shoulder and wrapping his free arm around my torso .

“here” i say wrapping my hand around his and moving the pen for him .

Love.

i write it subconsciously and i feel him take his head off my shoulder . i turn my head at the loss of heat to find him staring at me with relaxed and warm features , his eye brows curled upwards and a smile lazily plastered on his face .

“what?” i say tilting my head slightly and shifting my body towards him .

he doesn’t respond and just placed a hand on the side of my face . moving his thumb up and down my cheek looking between my eyes and my lips before leaning in .

we kiss constantly. not being able to stay away from each other . each kiss saying a different thing . “you look good” , “i like your makeup today” “i missed you” “that was really cute” “i need you” . never has it ever said this . the kiss screamed many things . the loudest being “i think im in love with you”

he pulls away first . we both stay silent as turn on his lap and put both my legs over his , sitting face to face . his hands trail down my back to my ass , pushing me forward so our chests are all most touching . i move his hair from his face , admiring the boy in front of me .

i arch my back slightly as i lean in to kiss him again . hands in his hair and on the back of his neck . his hands are on the underside of my thighs lifting up and down at the movement of our make out . his cold fingers getting warmed by my body every time i move downwards on his lap .

he moved his mouth down to my ear , my neck , my collarbones. anything he can reach from this angle . leaving bruises and pink marks in his wake . making my head throw back at the sensation and stealing soft noises from me .

my hand trails underneath his shirt. fingers running down his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths . he takes his top off with my help before lifting me and not breaking the kiss as he carries me to his bed . holding me up with both arms under my thighs before dropping me down on his bed and kissing down my chest. before making his way back up to my lips and placing a slow peck on them .

“ i want you all the time . i want to be yours and only yours y/n please” he whispers ,leaning on top of me , holding himself up by outstretched arms

“you have me matt .”

he has me.

_______________

i hate this sm . i’ll give em a spliff ext time i swear guys i just need a spliff myself first !!!

taglst 🤍

@mangosrar @sturnphilia @urmyslxt @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @sssturniolofart @deatthmatch @martyniukpl @parkerssecrets @lividnity @littlebookworm803 @daddyslilchickenfingers

love u all :) -millz / milkie 🤍

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #milkietalks #milkie is down bad #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader

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eitaababe · 2 years

Note

hello! <3 can i please request a neteyam x metkayina!reader oneshot where reader is apprehensive about choosing a mate, she knows everyone expect her to choose asap but prefers the idea of being friends with the person first (having a hard time trusting people easily/opening up). one day, after realizing her feelings for neteyam, she talks to him about this and he says something like “i’d always wait for you”. i’m so sorry if this is too specific, i have a thing for the concept of patient love/slowburn.

(also your writing is so beautiful, i’m in love with everything you post and always look forward for your works.)

TAKE YOUR TIME !

neteyam x metkayina! reader.

a/n — yo this took me forever to finish like i STRUGGLED IM SO SORRY 😭😭 / but SLOWBURNS >>> THEYRE JUST TOO GOOD MAN / also tysm nonnie giving you big smooches

! characters are aged up a few years for sake of plot

—

When the Sully's arrived to awa'atlu, Tsireya practically begged you to help her and her brother teach them your clan's ways. So you agreed, and like her, took a quick liking to one of the brothers.

You slowly grew closer to Neteyam, spending more and more time that started out with helping him breathe correctly, to how to ride his ilu, to eventually just being with him because you enjoyed his presence.

The two of you were currently sitting on the sand underneath a tree, his back to you as he sat in front of you, you re-braiding his hair. "He's just so- ugh! I just don't get why he is so obsessed with making my siblings feel so unwelcome." Neteyam complained, hissing when you pulled too hard.

"For eywa's sake, Neteyam. If I hear you complain about Ao'nung one more time, I'm going to rip my own eardrums out," You sighed, tsking when his hand grabbed your wrist from tugging hard. "Don't be such a baby, you asked me to redo your braids."

Opening his mouth to complain again, Kiri came in, interrupting you two. "Hey Y/n, I think your parents are looking for you."

Silently thanking eywa, Neteyam grinned, shaking his hair out. Kiri looked at her brother in amusement, breaking out into laughter. "You look so stupid, with your hair half done."

"Whatever, I'm going to mom to ask her to finish it for me. Find me once you're down, yeah?" He looked to you, softly rubbing your shoulder as a farewell.

"I will," you assured him, waving bye to his sister as well.

You entered your own marui, greeting your parents. "Oel ngati kameie."

Your parents nodded, gesturing you to come closer. "Daughter, we have something very important to address."

You sat down across from them, wearing a confused look.

"As you know, you're getting older," you nodded slowly, still confused. "Soon enough, you will need to find a mate. We talked to Ruto's parents, and we believe you two would make a fine match."

You shook your head in disagreement. "Father, I barely know Ruto. I've talked to him only once."

"Yes, but he is the son of one of our best hunter's in the clan. He would provide well for you."

"Please," you begged, looking to your mother for help. "Let me choose someone on my own."

Your parents shared a look, sighing as they turned to you. "Fine, we'll let you choose your own mate. But make it quick. We'll be waiting, and if you can't find someone, we'll talk to Ruto's parents about our agreement again."

You left the marui without another word.

Keeping your promise, you still went to the Sully family's marui, clearly shaken. Of course, the idea of being mated was something you thought about frequently, but the pressure of finding one soon so you wouldn't be set up with a stranger was all too much.

Collecting yourself, you called out to the family, Tuk immediately running up to you. "Y/n!" She giggled happily as you picked her up, hugging her close.

"Hi Tuktuk," you chuckled, eyes wandering to her hand, small fingers grasping a band of beads. She reached out to you, offering them. "What's this?"

"I made it for you!" You let her put it on your wrist, and thanked her, carrying her with you as you made your way towards Neteyam and his mother, who was just about finished with his hair.

"Hi y/n." Neytiri greeted, finishing up on her son's last braid. Upon hearing your name, Neteyam quickly looked up, smiling at the sight of you.

"Y/n!" He happily chirped, his eyes wandering towards your wrist. The bead pattern on your bracelet was matching to the one on his necklace, and you both shared a grin at the realization.

Tuk grinned proudly when the both of you shared a look at your matching jewelry, and jumped from your arms to her mothers embrace.

Getting up, Neteyam waved to his mother. "I'll be back before eclipse."

Nodding towards her son, and then you, the two of you made your way out the marui, walking along the shore.

"So, what did your parents want?"

Your smile faded at the mention of your parents. "They want me to pick a mate soon. They're so excited that they've already chosen someone."

"What? Who?" Neteyam panicked, eyes boring into yours.

"Ruto," you glumly replied. "I convinced them to give me some time though. To pick someone I want, not something that's set up. But I really don't have much time."

"Ruto?" he scoffed in disapproval. "He's got the personality of a rock," he joked, smiling when you faintly laughed. "My dads talked to me about the same thing. I just don't really know everyone on the island all that well, you know?"

"I'm sure you'll find someone," you comforted, a small wave crashing before your feet. "There's many beautiful metkayina women here. Sungia is one of the best healers I've seen. Ikla has a beautiful voice. Ezo is also a great dancer-"

"Easy there," Neteyam cut you off, slapping a hand over your mouth to shut up. Licking his palm, he pulled away, wiping his hand on your arm. "Ew! You're like Lo'ak when you do that."

"Maybe next time you shouldn't put your hand on my mouth, then." You laughed. "I was just saying, there's plenty of wonderful girls here. The men, whoever..."

"Don't fret. We'll find you a big, strong, hunter with a personality so you don't end up with Ruto the rock." He teased, lazily wrapping his arm around you and pulling your hair lightly, making you smack him in the stomach.

"Stop messing with my hair, you skxawng!"

Tuk and Neytiri watched the two of you from the marui, silently hoping the two of you would come to your senses soon.

The next few days went by, and you found yourself laying on Tsireya, complaining. "Eywa hates me!" You groaned, glaring up at the girl when she laughed at your declaration. "It isn't funny, Reya."

"It's a little funny, admit it."

"No it's not! My parents are going to force me to mate with this weird guy if I don't find anyone! I just don't get it, Eywa practically handed you Lo'ak, you have nothing to worry about. All the boys on this island are boring or like your brother."

Eyes widening at the dig at Ao'nung, Tsireya didn't scold you for it. "I mean, I'm not saying you're wrong," she softly threaded her hands through your hair as you let out another sigh. "But there has to be someone. What about Neteyam?"

You shot up like a rocket, rapidly shaking your head. "Absolutely not. No. I couldn't even- no. We're just friends."

"You are a terrible liar." Tsireya blankly stated, blinking at you.

"I'm not lying!"

"Have you seen the way you two look at each other? It's like you're in love. No one who is just friends looks at someone like that."

"Look," you started, pushing the thoughts of you and Neteyam as far as you could. "Even if I decided I liked him. That's if. If I did, his father wants him to be mated soon as well. He's Neteyam, I doubt he would settle for someone like me."

"Oh Y/n," Tsireya cooed, grasping your hand lightly. "Don't do that. Do not discount yourself. You are one of the most beautiful women on this island, anyone would be lucky to be your mate. Especially Neteyam."

Smiling gratefully at her, you didn't like the feeling that bubbled up when you pictured being with Neteyam. "Oh whatever. You're just pushing me towards Neteyam because you already like the family." You teased, laughing harder when her cheeks turned purple at the subtle mention of Lo'ak.

You can't help but let the thought of you and Neteyam linger the next few days. Yes, you enjoyed his company, but could you really spend the rest of your life as his mate?

You avoided him, denying that you could ever feel about him in that way. Denying that you shuddered at his touch, that you loved the way his eyes looked, that you loved how he talked, how he-

Ripping you from your thoughts, a pair of arms wrapped around you. "Hi y/n." Your favorite voice spoke, bringing a smile to your face.

"Hi 'Teyam." Yoy cheerfully replied, worries from before now long forgotten.

"You okay?" he asked, a concerned look in his eyes. "You looked like you were deep in thought."

"I'm fine," you assured, brought back to your harsh reality. "Just-"

"Trying to figure out who you could tolerate as a mate?"

You chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Then c'mon, let's go find someone."

Your protests against the idea of spying around the island to look for boys were quickly tossed aside. He was determined to find someone for you, and you couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that he wanted to find someone for you so soon.

"Rotxo!" Neteyam called out, waving over at the boy. You rolled your eyes, but following the boy as he walked over towards Rotxo.

"Y/n, Neteyam, what are you two up to?"

"Nothing much," you smiled flatly, giving Neteyam a knowing look. "Just walking around the beach, showing him around the island."

"Ah, well, have fun! Let me know if you two need anything."

You both thanked him as you said your farewells and walked away, Neteyam glancing down at you multiple times. "...no?"

"No."

You continued on with your hunt, opting to look from afar rather than engage in a conversation with every boy you saw. You smiled and nodded at guys who didn't seem too bad, but you were silent for the most part. Neteyam wasn't dumb, you may not have been the closest but he could tell something was off. "Hey, we really don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, it's- it's fine," you quietly reassured him, letting a moment of silence pass by as you bit the inside of your cheek. "I'm just scared, you know? I'm going to be mated off with someone who I barely even know. Who I'm not even friends with. What if- what if I don't love him? What if he doesn't love me?" You worried, not realizing how Neteyam gently grasped your hand, squeezing it in comfort.

"Hey, you're going to be fine, alright? If you don't want to meet anyone new, maybe you'll grow to be fond of Ruto, and he'll learn to love you. Or maybe you'll even find someone else when you least expect it. But I'll always be here for you, you know that?"

Your heart clenched at the reminder of Ruto, and the limited time you had. You smiled wordlessly up at him, squeezing his hand back. "Thank you, Neteyam."

"Anytime."

Yet you can't help but feel as though everything won't be fine.

With your time running out and no new candidates, you settle for trying to get to know Ruto. You really have no clue where to start, but you find him on his ilu, probably coming back from a hunt.

"Ruto!" You called out, his head snapping up at response of his name. His eyes land on your own and you freeze, not knowing what to do when he sends a small smile your way, and starts heading over towards you.

You begin to panic, rethinking your decisions. What were you even thinking? You barely know him, he's probably just as confused as you are.

Before you can succumb to the rest of your thoughts, an unfamiliar voice snaps you out of it. "Hey, y/n," the boy greets, towering over you, piercing yellow eyes burning i to your own. "What's up?"

"Uhm-" you stutter, swallowing down your suddenly very dry throat. "Just walking around. Wanted to see what you were up to."

Ruto hums, nodding once he finally understands why you came to him. "This is about our- arrangement, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, that's it's all so awkward. Truth be told I wasn't for it either, but my parents were so insistent," he laughs at you when you groan in frustration. "How about this. We'll get to know each other. And if you really don't want to go through with this, we'll talk to them together."

You take a moment, considering his offer. There was no downside, really, at least for you. One hand, you make your parents and everyone else happy by finding a mate, or you get what you really want, a chance to finally get to know somebody, and take your time in choosing.

"Deal."

You and Ruto spent the next couple days together practically every minute, choosing activities that the other enjoyed, and learning more about each other the more you were together. Your parents were pleased at the interaction and word around the village traveled fast, everyone chattering about how you finally found 'the one'.

Neteyam ended up finding out the news from Lo'ak. Yes, it was his idea, but he couldn't help the way his heart sank when everyone was talking about you and your new mate, and how he was able to confirm the news with his own eyes when he spotted you two.

He sat in his family's marui, quieter than usual. Kiri and Lo'ak quickly noticed, exchanging knowing looks. "If you scrunch your face like that any longer, it's going to be permanent."

"Shut up, Lo'ak."

"I'm just saying. He's had that god awful pout on his face the past few days, it's bringing my mood down. What's wrong?"

Glaring his sibling's way, Neteyam only shook his head, eyes averting to the ocean. "Nothing's wrong."

"Something seems pretty wrong to me," Lo'ak stated, shrugging and leaning back casually. "Ever since y/n has been out and about with Ruto lately you seem all alone and missing her company and-"

The younger brother paused, mouth agape while his hand flies to cover it. "OH EYWA! You like y/n!"

"You are so slow sometimes, Lo'ak," Kiri rolled her eyes in annoyance, looking to Neteyam who seemed just about as surprised as his brother. "Don't tell me- you just realized too?"

She took his silence as a yes and pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing at both her brothers stupidity. "Neteyam, you cannot. She's betrothed to Ruto."

"I know." He replied quietly.

"And her parents aren't likely to change their minds."

"I know."

"And she actually seems to be enjoying his company lately."

"I know."

"So you better hurry up and tell her how you feel."

"I kn- wait, what?" Neteyam cut himself off, head swiveling to face the two. They only shrugged, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "I can't just- just go and tell her how I feel."

"Why not? I mean really, what do you have to lose. If it doesn't work out then she ends up with Ruto anyways."

"You're not making me feel any better."

"Just go!"

So, like a man on a mission, Neteyam hurried to find you, only to see you with Ruto once more. He pauses mid-stride, wondering if this is really the best way to go about it. But in a moment of courage he acts on instinct, approaching you two.

You speak first, and when your laugh turns silent he can't help but feel as if he's intruding. "Neteyam? What's going on?"

"I just-" he stops himself, seeing Ruto stand next to you. He sees the way you two look together, almost perfect. Your beauty matches his own looks, and in no doubt would he provide well for you. His heart hammers in his chest, and cowardly, he averts the topic. "I was wondering if you've seen Ezo. I was thinking of taking you and my father's advice about reaching out to other women on the island."

"Oh," you quietly exclaimed, clearing your throat for whatever reason. "She was by the reef with Rotxo, last time I saw her."

He quickly thanked you and walked off, missing the way your face fell, and how Ruto was quick to console you.

"I guess I was wrong," you softly spoke, now sitting with both Tsireya and Ruto. Their eyes held sympathy for you, trying their best to help you in this complicated situation. "I mean, I really thought I had it all figured out. Me and Ruto were going to tell our parents that it isn't going to happen with us, and that I want to take it slow with someone I had in mind. And then he just- drops this on me!"

Tsireya rubs her hand on your shoulder in comfort, feeling sorry for her best friend. "Well- maybe it didn't even go well between them. For all we know, he could hate Ezo right now."

"Nobody hates Ezo." You state, Ruto quietly agreeing but still earning a glare from Tsireya.

"Maybe, just maybe, you should tell Neteyam how you feel anyways. He's looking for other women, but he's blind to the one just in reach."

"I don't know-" You start to protest, almost immediately getting cut off by both Ruto and Tsireya.

"No," they start, Ruto speaking up after. "You're going to tell Neteyam how you feel. Stop sulking on your butt and go get your man."

You whine and stomp your feet, childlike, before finally getting up. "Fine, I'm going. If this all goes wrong I'm blaming you both."

"Looking forward to it. Have fun!"

You wander along the sand, looking out of place and feeling more uncomfortable as more time passes. You try to spot Neteyam's dark blue skin, but to no avail, are unable to find him amongst the crowd of metkayina men.

Walking aimlessly and just about to give up on your search, you finally see him with Ezo, which is unsurprising. You can't decide if you should greet them, hide behind a tree, or hope that the ocean swallows you whole at any given moment. You opt for the latter, standing there awkwardly.

Neteyam greets you before you can say anything, and they both walk to you, and you decide to meet them halfway. They both wear a wide grin, and the sight feels like someone stabbed a dagger through your chest.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were with Ruto." Neteyam curiously piped up, making your chest throb even more when you think, he doesn't even want to see you.

"He just had some duties," you lie, shrugging carelessly. "I was just walking along here before I go back to my marui. What were you two up to?" You asked, hoping you wouldn't regret it.

"Well we spent most of the day together," Neteyam answered you, the truth making it feel like someone was slowly chipping away at your heart. "We swam and went on rides with the ilus..." he kept telling you about their day, but you stopped listening, zoning out.

We, we, we. It was funny how such a small word could cause you so much pain.

"Well that's lovely!" You faked a smile, blinking rapidly before tears would fall down your face. You turned away hastily, making your way in the opposite direction while yelling a jumble of words. Something along the lines of, "Wouldn't want to be in the way, see you later!"

Your face burns with embarrassment, thinking you could just march up and tell Neteyam that you want him, and he would willingly accept you. You think you got away, and then you hear him run up from behind you, making you shut your eyes tightly and hope he won't notice the red in your eyes.

"Y/n?" He called out worriedly, turning you around to face him, your eyes opening involuntarily. Ezo is nowhere to be seen, yet you really can't find it in you to care all that much. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Neteyam questions, on making you want to cry harder.

"So much," you croak, trying to stop your voice from cracking as you continued to talk. "So much is wrong. I'm such a mess. I met Ruto and I became friends with him but I can't even get myself to like him, and then I feel like everything's hopeless, and that I won't find someone I like here and then I meet you," you sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, "and for the longest I can't comprehend what I feel for you and by the time I realize it's too late because you've already went off and found another girl."

"Hey," he soothes, head dipping down so his eyes can meet your own. "Who says I don't feel the same way about you?"

"Even if you did," you cried out hopelessly, all your pent up feelings unraveling in front of the one person you didn't want it to. "You'd have to wait so long. I don't- I don't want to rush into this. It's tedious, having to wait for someone like me when there's girls like Ezo who are ready for you now."

"There's nothing tedious about waiting for the girl you want to be ready," Neteyam spoke softly still, his thumb rubbing against the inner part of your forearm. "And I don't want girls like Ezo," he laughed, his other hand cupping your cheek. "I want you."

Before you even have the chance to protest, or come up with some dumb excuse or reason why you aren't fit for him he presses his lips to yours, deeming it the best way to shut you up. His lips mold against yours almost perfectly, and he finally pulls away, his smile brighter than any stars in the sky. "I only want you," he whispers, lips brushing against yours once more.

"So take your time, alright?"

—

a/n — anyways hope u enjoyed <33

#— requests !#— answered #neteyam sully #avatar x reader #avatar #avatar fluff #neteyam #neteyam fluff #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #neteyam imagine #avatar angst #avatar fic #avatar neteyam #neteyam scenario

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sugar-omi · 9 months

Note

TRANS MASC COVE TRANS MASC COVE (sfw +nsfw hcs pls,, id love your thoughts)

NO BC NOW YOU'VE PUT THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD N I NEED HIM DESPERATELY eta while im in the middle of writing: after this i... i can no longer hold onto my fem!cove thoughts. n i am eating up trans!cove like a starving ANIMAL.

tags : SFW + NSFW, transmasc (ftm) cove, switch cove/reader, some mentions of body/gender dysmorphia, im sure theres 1 transphobe walking around sunset bird so the smallest mention of that clown

SFW

i've been seeing a lotta top surgery scar tattoos on my twt timeline lately, and pls some of them i need for myself bc they're so!!!! pretty!!!!

so i can definitely see him getting tattoos there

not because he wants to cover em up, i just think he sees so many flash sheets over time that he's SOLD

mmm i wanna say that fem/afab!cove would have small boobs

or B cups at most

either way, i almost wanna say that his boobs before surgery wouldn't bother him as much unless someone was sexualizing him or he was exercising n his boobs were bouncing too much or smth like that

even then its usually complaints of, "ugh, this bra isn't supportive..." or something like that

ofc he still has his moments

i also think he only binds sometimes, rarely

doesn't do it often since it's often hot outside, or especially if he's sporty, its uncomfortable

(also looked it up just to be sure) but since he's always on the beach its inconvenient/unnecessary to wear if he can't wear it in the water

but like i said i think he'd be pretty flat/small anyway, so i think he's okay

mm definitely doesn't give up having long hair, or wearing the occasional dress/skirt ofc

but will correct one of the old sunset bird residents if they try and say "see honey, it was a phase, you're wearing a dress today!"

also idk abt yall, n this is more of a general thought, but i feel like step 2 cove's impulse control is. deathly low.

so one day, he has long/long-ish hair

and the next he has a mullet, wolf cut, or buzz cut.

he's so chaotic to me pls

now i've had fem!cove on my mind for weekssss now

so i'm not just saying this

but cove is still buff

thick muscly thighs, NICE ARMS. REALLY NICE ARMS

mm so i feel like he looks pretty androgynous or masc anyway

now im projecting here.

but cove has irregular periods, n they're pretty heavy most the time

or lasts awhile (ok im done projecting. sorry cove</3)

also think he deals with cramps (IM SORRY COVE)

i think his period is the biggest trigger of his body/gender dysmorphia too

although i think fem!cove would hate her period anyway altho tbf who doesnt

he'd definitely appreciate some comfort!!!

bring him another heating pad, your comfiest hoodie or blanket and snacks

he's very happy for the thoughtfulness and the company

step 2 cove would definitely be moved by such thoughtfulness... he's in tears

so after the first time it's a trend to spend time together in his bed, watching movies or something while he's cuddled into your side or next to you in a cove-rrito, all sleepy n comfy...

NSFW

had to stop writing the SFW to write this bc i had a thought

cove laid out all pretty... his chest rising and falling and he's all teary eyed as you're between his legs, eating his cunt until he's seeing stars.

pls his cunt with be so sensitive, and he'd be so pretty to fuck

would shake so much too

his thighs quivering so bad he clamps around your hand

you'd have to hold his legs up so he doesn't nearly flatten your head between his thick thighs

"y/n!" cove cries, his hands tangled in your hair and he's trying so hard not to squish your head between his thighs, but your tongue is flat against his sensitive clit, sucking and bullying the poor button while your fingers make a loud, sloppy mess of his hole.

he whines, hips shaking in your hands.

you tighten your grip on his waist, your fingers digging into the flesh, grumbling irritably around his clit but cove just cries out a loud moan and slurred word, torn between your name, a cuss word, and a cry for god.

you pull of his clit, your fingers still curling against that spongy spot inside his sloppy walls. "stay still, you're gonna crush my head..." you start to kiss his thighs, small kisses turning into you sucking deep hickeys into his tan skin, and that turning into biting.

cove gasps for air, his eyes fluttering closed as he squirms.

"fuck, y/n, please..." he mumbles, tugging at the bedsheets.

you stop the assault on his thighs, leaning up on your elbows so you can give cove a kiss, your lips lazily moving together...

anyway... horny aside for a moment<333

mm i could see cove not getting or really wanting bottom surgery

i think trans cove would be pretty comfortable with his body's appearance overall

and he's probably read into it a lot since it's not like he hasn't thought about it, i could just see him probably deciding its not something he wants

ARGGHH HE'D BE A DEMON WITH THE STRAP THOUGH

ahh. cove holding you down or folding your legs against your chest while he slams his hips against yours...

his strap hitting your poor prostate / cervix, he'd coo about how cute your whines are and that you're making him leak

would definitely upset he can't fill you up w cum

especially if you wanna get pregnant, rambles about how much he wishes he could fill you up with his cum again and again and again...

arghhh fuck imma lose my MIND

definitely takes advantage of those squirting dildos

can at least admire how you look oozing milky lube

omfg definitely wakes up all excited to tell you if he dreamed about it too...

has an array of straps

we already know he has a tentacle dildo or two deep in his closet...

yeah tries them out on you

"don't get tired yet, i have one more.. and it has a knot!!!"

he just likes to experiment on you a little~~ bit <333

ohh please tell him he looks handsome/sexy while you're giving him head

he'll die.

FUCK HE'D GO CRAZY IF YOU RIDE HIM TOO I KNOW IT

yeah he's still the same cute, secretly horny, big crybaby pookie <3333 i love him pls

#olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden x reader #cove holden #smut #cove x reader #cove x mc #cove our life #cove holden smut #cove holden x mc

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sturnwritess · 7 months

Text

Things always end PT. 3

warnings: pyschical fighting, tons of flashbacks,drinking and hard angst.

flashback.

Me and Matt were friends at first, I met Nick and Chris before Matt. We all met in 7th grade, and Matt always knew how to catch my eye. Marylou was like a mother to me.

She knew how to comfort me when I was crying or when I was angry. She knew everything to calm me down, She knew me and she always knew if there was something wrong with me.

Nick was my best friend and he couldn’t always tell what was wrong with me but Chris could, he would always go to Marylou. Chris was always my bestfriend too but it felt different with him. I could always depend on Chris in a different way then Nick.

I had no really big connection to Matt till sophomore year, I was always bullied by Gracie. Gracie was always popular and always dated someone, one day she pointed out about my dead mom.

That was my breaking point and everyone knew that, Matt saw my red puffy eyes the night i went over and he asked me what was wrong and I explained.

He let me cry in his arms that night and then we connected instantly after that night.

End of flashback.

Nicole bursts into my room "GUESS WHOS HAVING A PARTY TONIGHT!" She said yelling, "hm?" I said calmly. "THAT BITCH GRACIE" she says. My eyes go wide questioning why she's excited, she notices and says "it's ur time to make him jealous y/n/n."

7 hours later

While I was doing my makeup my phone got a notification.

I left him on opened.

I finally got done getting ready, Nicole called a Uber knowing it would be a fun night. The Uber took 10 minutes to get to the party.

The strobing lights making it hard to see, me and Nicole went instantly to the alcohol stand. I already saw Gracie and Matt but I paid no attention.

Matt caught me looking at them once and I just couldn't do it. Nicole wanted to stay with me the whole night, she pointed out a guy she thought was cute and i told her i would be fine. I wasn't going to be fine, but for her I would always be fine.

I drank enough for the night when Chris came up to me, "hey y/n, are you doing okay?" He says worried. "Yea im doing okay." Slurring at my words, i stumble and trip but Chris is there to catch me.

It caught Matt's eye making his jaw clench. I catch the fact i made him jealous, but I wouldn't do that to Chris.

Chris leaves me alone for a second to talk to his friends, but then my ex was there. Gio, he was a asshole and he was Gracie's ex also which made it more aggravating. "Oh lookey whos here" he says in a sarcastic tone.

"What do u want Gio?" you say annoyed. "Oh nothing sweetie" he says with a grin that makes u want to slap it off. Matt and Chris notice that your ex is talking to you, and tried to get all touchy with you.

"Gio stop touching me" you push him back, he doesn't comply, Chris and Matt are getting pissed off about the fact that he's bugging you. As he's about to kiss you someone pulls him away and punches him. Chris was punching Gio repeatedly when Matt came over to stop Chris.

Gio was beaten to the floor with a already black eye and busted lip, blood on Chris's knuckles. Your eyes went wide at the sight, Matt questioned why Chris beat him to protect you.

Matt always questioned if Chris was in love with you, he always put those thoughts aside while he was laying in bed with you.

Gracie walked over and already started complaining "ugh of course this shit happens with her here." Matt already gave her a look that made her skin crawl, Chris didn't pay any attention to her only wondering if you're okay.

Nicole finally came over and saw what happened, she took your wrist and led you outside. Chris snapped out of Matt's hold following you outside, Matt then followed Chris outside. Gracie was just there taking care of Gio, when Matt left her there.

Nicole noticed Chris was following you and didn't care, but when she noticed Matt was too she immediately tried blocking him off. "Matt stop following y/n it's weird just leave her alone" she says harshly.

Matt replies saying, "I was following my brother and I still care about her Nicole". He says annoyed "if you cared about her, you wouldn't have cheated on her" Chris says chiming in.

"It's fine if he follows us" you says sternly, "it's not y/n he was a dick to you." Chris says with sympathy, You look at him with pleading eyes and he agrees. All four of you were on the backyard patio, "Chris what the fuck was that back there" Matt says.

"Y/n was getting dicked around with Gio and it was pissing me off" he says while looking at me, "I know he was and it was pissing me off as well but this is Gracie's party and your my brother, it's embarrassing Chris" he says harshly.

"Hey don't talk to him like that" you say towards Matt, Matt looked into your eyes searching for the love u once had for him. Nothing was there anymore, "y/n cmon you even know he fucked up" Matt says.

"He didn't and what's embarrassing is how u followed me out here instead of staying with your little girlfriend." You say pissed off.

"Your little girlfriend is stitching up gio over there so stop worrying about Chris and go fuck off Matt." Your words stinging like venom. Matt leaves and drives home.

"Chris would u like to stay over at our place?" You ask. "I would love to y/n" he says. Nicole just observing about to chime in but you give her a look, she knows he's staying over tonight.

----------------------------------------------------------------

anyways i apologize for not posting ive been so busy lol.

and sorry this is so short again im js lazy nd tired

@sturnioloshacker @slutsturn @mattsturnioloarchive

@carolinalikesthings @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @chrisloyalgf @chrissolosa @sturniolosluvv @sturniolosstar @sturnioloskies @nicksnosering @mattsturnioloz @chrissturniolosbitch

@chrissturnioloshoe @chrissturniolossidehoe @chrisenthusiast @mattsgirlie @mattsmunch

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt x reader #angst #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

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goodlucksnez · 7 months

Text

Well here it is as promised! I made a resolution that in 2024 every month i would make a surprise wav for one of my snzblr friends, so i made a random wheel with friends on it and spun it so this months friend is *drum roll* @ithadtobesneezing

I had this thought a long time ago and well I had to put it to use! I LOVE LOVE LOVE the hc that T/oge can make Y/uta snez from the cursed energy, so of course I ran with that..also my own hc that T/oge is sensitive to champagne. So without further rambling enjoy!

guide: Bonito flakes (agreement), Caviar (curse word like fuck or shit),samon (agreement but more casually kinda like the word whatever), mustard leaf (im sorry, or apologetic)

For my peeps with audio/hearing issues transcript is below

TOGE: and YUTA:

YUTA: Here to a job well done *clicks glasses*

TOGE: Bonito flakes

YUTA: hey don’t be like that you did amazing! I mean that move where you jumped of that railing and you slide on your heels that was strght out of a action movie

TOGE: *sniffs and rubs at his nose* Salmon

YUTA: think how rare this we actually get to just hang out and have a drink TOGE: ther…it is nice is it not?

TOGE: hmm *nods and sips and hiccups*

YUTA: oh I guess you would be a lightweight haha

TOGE: hmm*grumpling before sniffling

YUTA: oh im sorry I didn’t mean to make you upset are you-

TOGE: sneezes 2 times in quick succession

YUTA: ohh,oh um *hitches* bless you *sneezes harshly* bless you

TOGE: Mustard leaf

YUTA: you do not need to apologize it happens, *sneezes* phew a few sneezes are not going to kill me

TOGE: *in his head* but it is my fault, this would not be happening if I Wasn’t so weak*

YUTA: hey hey no look at me I know that face, no this isn’t your fault, heck if I wasn’t so su*starts hitching* susceptible *sneezes harshly again* ugh phew sorry this would not be a issue

TOGE: laughs and grabs a couple napkin

YUTA: hey I said issue not tissue snez again harshly

TOGE: just take it

YUTA: *blow nose before looking up starlted* wahh did you actually just speak to me oh wow

TOGE: hmm Salmon *sips more drink*

YUTA: wow you much really trust me..or your drunk

TOGE: *flustered gay noise before hitching*

YUTA: oh go ahead

TOGE: fanning face before ducking into his sleeve with snez 1….2

YUTA: *hitching* go one 1 more

TOGE: sneeze

YUTA: sneeze…ugh bless us

TOGE: mumbles and runs out of bar

YUTA: hey wait don’t go, where are you going

TOGE: in alleyway *stupid stupid I’m sorry this is all my fault he should not be anywhere near me

YUTA: TOGE: yoge where are you hey come out dude come on

TOGE: all I have to do is stay quite I can do tha*-hitch oh no not now

YUTA: wait what is that I can feel his cursed energy…. I can sense him…

TOGE: no no..not like this now..large snez

YUTA: woah hey no need to run I am unarmed. I didn’t need to search that hard hey no,no look at me…you eyes are all red so is your nose…have you ever had champagne before?

TOGE: shacks head

YUTA: I think you might be allergic to it

TOGE: Caviar

YUTA: hey you kiss your mother with that mouth come on lets get you back

TOGE: whines and rubs at his nose

YUTA: I know allergies suck; I know better then most this *points at his face* nose of mine I definitely understand try to not to rub at it will just make the itch worse

TOGE: sniffs and rubs and sneeze

YUTA: see what did I tell you..oh great now I have to *hitches*

YUTA: sneezes trice *with stronger intensity*

TOGE: blessing him after each one

TOGE: activating his curse technique stop it

YUTA: hitches and stops hey…what

TOGE: Caviar..clears throat commands him to sneeze

YUTA: sneezes harshly into his chest….oh thank gojo…oh my gosh I didn’t even know you could do that, stop a body from functioning *sneezes* wow that really cool

TOGE: bonito flakes

YUTA: im not complaining but try not to do that again I don’t know how much more my nose can take

TOGE: cute sneeze

YUTA: laughs bless you *kiss* I love you, lets go home

#sneeze #snez #audio #sneezy #snezaudio #sneezeaudio #wav #j/jksnezwav #j//jkwav #j//jk #j//jk snz #t/oge #y/uta #i love my frends #frends wav #aster i hope you like it!!!!#i hope i did the boys justice

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prodkatsu · 2 years

Text

he comforts you during a panic attack ⨾ bakugou katsuki

"hello, love!"

"i don't think i can do this."

"what—" the painful sobbing from the other side interrupted katsuki from finishing his sentence.

"it's too much. the world is spinning around me and i think i'll throw up if this goes on. im not enough prepared for this. they'll know im not the best and im nothing but useless bitch who can't do much other than being nervous. i don't think i can do—" your sobs of panic were interrupted.

"breath, love, breath for me." the soft voice of your boyfriend spoke from the other side — this is the softest you've ever heard him. you take a gulping breath, choking on the process. "i need you to calm down and tell me what happened, 'kay?"

you nod. "words, love, i need words. tell me what happened."

and you started to tell him all your worries and he listened to those, patiently among all the chokes and sobs you let out. "—and i don't think im qualified enough to give this exam. all the people around me are so talented and experienced, and im nothing but a blabbering mess. i don't think i come even close to them." your sobs swallow few words but katsuki caught up to them "it's— i— ugh! i feel so insignificant among all this amazing people. it's tough imagining that i'll even do well, let alone score good."

you started to sob into the phone, praying that no one will use the restroom at this moment. you don't think you'll be able to take the humiliation along with this anxiety.

the line stayed quiet for some time, making you blabber more nonsense than you mean. "im so sorry. i did not mean to disturb you during your duty. i know how busy you are. oh god! i can't even be a good girlfriend—"

"hey! enough. stop saying shit about my girlfriend. i know my girlfriend better than anyone and i love her despite what she thinks of herself, so do not say anything bad about her." he said sternly, his words making you smile through the tears slightly.

clearing his throat, katsuki said in a soft voice, "i was giving you time, love, to organize your thoughts. im sorry it gave you more things to worry." you shake your head on the other side, realising he can't see. "you know what i think, i think you'll do amazing. ive seen you work hard and i know how much effort you put in your work."

"your classmates might be good, but you're better, you can't underestimate your power, you understand?" you nod. "i need words, love." you reply in a shaky voice, "yes."

"good. you need to know it's normal for you to feel nervous but please believe in yourself. i know you have work hard and i know how good you are. you need to believe in yourself and see what an amazing person you are, yes?" you sobbed and reply, "yes."

"good. now go out there and break legs. i mean literally." you laughed which pulled a smile on katsuki's face. "you good now, baby?"

"yes, im better." you wiped your eyes and nod your head.

"that's my girl. you're better you need to know." you hummed and stood up to dust your dress. walking out of the toilet stall, you went to wash your hands.

"'suki, do you ever feel nervous?" there was a pause before his voice came through.

"always, love, always when you're not with me. i always feel nervous that a time can come when im far from you and you get hurt and im not fast enough to save you. this always haunts me in the night." you can hear the vulnerability in his voice. your katsuki was many things but vulnerable wasn't any of them. he only let this side show with you, that's what you admire the most. he was a force to reckon with but soft breeze when he was with you.

"you're the best, 'suki, i love you." katsuki could feel his ears turning red. you still have that effect on him even after being in a relationship for four years, and on the way to get married. "i love you too, baby. now go and do your best."

you whispered a farewell to him and left the restroom with a new earned determination.

you have prepared your best so you don't need to worry about anything else.

#— prodkatsu 𔓘 #bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #pro hero bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou drabble #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugo headcanons #bakugou hcs

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unicyclehippo · 2 years

Note

reminder to self: finish the dang wash prompt

[have read it too many times & now my brain is fried so that’s it!! im done!! for @possibilistfanfiction the ray fic as promised, i hope u enjoy it!! for everyone else, if you think you’ve read this before, that’s because the start is functionally identical to the thing i posted a few weeks back for the “wash” prompt]

you should have listened to your brother.

the thought makes you shudder and you ignore it valiantly as you start your morning, because at the heart of it, that’s what you do: you’re a runaway.

hop out of bed; don’t think about it. make breakfast in your tiny kitchen, the overhead light a little dim but bright enough against blue pre-dawn morning; don’t think about it. get ready for work, check the to-do list note in your phone twice to make sure you’ve got everything you need; don’t think about it. not thinking about it works just fine until, asshole that he is, he calls you as you’re climbing into the car.

you think about ignoring him but as much as he ticks you off—and you know that the first or maybe last words out of his mouth are gonna be, when are you coming home, ray—it’s been three weeks since the last time you spoke and you miss him. plus, it’s not as if he’s wrong (ugh). it is lonely here, sometimes, and you have friends closeby but no family, and your stomach hurt all last winter because no one wanted to learn to surf when the water was fuck-off cold and the jobs you got to cover those in-between months didn’t ever last long enough, and he’s right about all of that but he’s wrong about it not being worth it. he’s wrong about you needing to come home, because there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here and maybe, yeah, maybe that makes you selfish or reckless or any of the other things he’d called you in anger, regretted quickly, but the smell of seasalt and smog clings to you and you feel good, healthy, when you swing into the drivers seat of your car and excitement swells up inside of you—like always, every morning without fail—because this was never about running away, not really, it was always about this. about running to something, about having a different home, about making a place where you feel right in yourself, braver and better too. maybe when you explain that to him this time, for what feels like the hundredth time, he’ll get it.

you put the phone in its clip, up on the dash, and answer his call.

‘hey,’ he says, voice gravelly with the early hour and the crackle of your shitty reception. ‘didn’t think you were gonna pick up. figured you were still ignoring my calls.’

god, you miss him. but he’s your brother so you won’t ever say that except under pain of torture, maybe. Instead, you say, tone clipped,

‘thought about it.’ it’s not helpful to be short with him but hell, you answered, didn’t you? It doesn’t fall on you to fix all of this.

he sits with that for a second, then clears his throat. you can picture him clear as day: he’ll be leaning back against the counter of his kitchen, arms folded, face folded up as he listens hard to every word. there’ll be coffee brewing in a pot, and all the stuff for the kids lunches laid out ready for the assembly line.

he tries again. you love him for this, you admire him for this—not that you’ll ever admit it to him. he never stops trying.

‘you off to work?’

‘yeah.’

‘how’s that going?’

for a second, there’s another short answer on your lips. something terse, something not quite unkind but not welcoming or inviting. but then you think about him standing in the kitchen pre-dawn making your sandwiches, day after day, and glance to the passenger seat to your bag where you tossed the sandwich you’d made this morning in your tiny kitchen—exactly the way he used to make it, and makes now for his son and daughter—and instead you say,

‘i have a new student.’

‘oh? kid or adult class?’

‘adult.’

there’s a smile in his tone, just exactly as teasing as when you were fourteen and admitted to having a crush on sophie perez (a year older than you and so much cooler), when he says, ‘is she pretty?’

‘oh, come on marco.’

‘what! i’m just asking.’

‘you’re just being nosy is what you are.’

‘sorry, sorry,’ he laughs. ‘but that’s totally a yes, by the way.’

you roll your eyes. there’s not really a word for what beatrice is. pretty, yes, absolutely. but it’s sneaky, the ways in which she’s really stunning, and even after three sessions teaching her how to surf you still feel kinda knocked around by her, not quite able to find your feet. she’s so composed, always, that it makes you feel awkward. listens so intently to your instructions and advice that under that close attention you feel singular, like the only person in the world. and, you don’t tell him, cannot tell your brother without seeming like the world’s biggest weirdo, you’ve seen her smile two and a half times. the half had been an accident; you’d turned to her at just the right moment to witness it—she’d been looking at nothing in particular, an empty spot on the beach, eyes gone wistful—but it wasn’t for you, and it wasn’t exactly happy, so it doesn’t seem right to count it as a full third. each time she smiles, it makes you want to see another with a fierceness that startles you. you are no stranger to want, nor attraction, and you know that makes up part of your fascination with beatrice but, if that were not enough, there is even more to her.

all the rest, your brother could wheedle out of you eventually, but this is something you keep locked tightly away, something you have not ever spoken to him about.

you should, eventually. you will (you might).

the first time you met beatrice, spoke with her after wading up and out of the hissing surf, with her lingering on the outskirts of your lessons to “inquire how to take part”—she’d taken the sheet you’d handed her and filled it out right there and then in careful script, beatrice, she/her, twenty four, england, never surfed before, email, phone number, emergency contact, the last of which had made her pause for a long time—something in you had recognised something in her. grief, still painful, had welled up in your chest, nailed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, stung in your eyes powerfully that you’d had to turn away and run your fingers through your hair, dig your heels into the sand, step back into the wet sand and the water pooling around your ankles. the ocean takes away everything you’re not ready to feel; while you are out there, it holds you up, weightless. two minutes into talking with beatrice, you know that she wants the same thing.

none of which you particularly want to tell your brother, so you say, ‘yeah, she’s pretty.’

‘single?’

‘i haven’t asked.’

‘you should.’

‘should i?’

pulling neatly into the park by the boardwalk—your favourite, for no particular reason other than this was the same one you always take, the same one you took the first day you came here, ended up here—you turn off the car but don’t make any move to get out. the engine quietens, then goes silent. marco fills the silence. saying things like how long has it been since you went on a date and you never know unless you try. you pull the keys from the ignition, toss them into the little waterproof bag you’ll take down to the sand with you. sunscreen, food, first aid kit.

‘what happened to, it’s time to come home?’ you interrupt his teasing.

he sighs. the line crackles, weirdly high-pitched, as the kettle begins to make noise on his end.

‘listen, ray. i miss you. i’m not gonna pretend that’s not true, or that i don’t worry about you all the time. and with all the shit that’s been going on lately… i want you nearby. but asim said, and i guess he might be right, that i’m being overprotective. and an ass.’

you’ve thought similar things about him before. twice, just this morning. but hearing him say it, voice warm and tired and a little ashamed, makes you want to take the first plane home and hug him until all the weird, unsettled, lonely parts of you find their place. like all it’ll take to fix everything is a hug from your big brother. but you know that isn’t true. knowing it makes you feel a little old and sad. resolute too, because you’re good here, better than you were. you made this place for yourself and you’re filling it with good, important things.

that’s far too many feelings for four a.m. so you say, ‘say asim was right again,’ and marco laughs. and then, because he was open first, and that makes it easier to follow, to admit to your own missteps, mistakes, you say, ‘i think about it all the time. coming home, i mean. i love you guys, and i do miss you guys, and you’re right. it’s hard out here. but…i love it. my life, the beach.’ he laughs again at that, which is fair. you could have said one or the other; the beach is your life, after all. ‘hey marco, i gotta go. before the waves get tired.’

‘yeah. yeah, i get it. hey - talk later?’

‘yeah. anytime.’

‘love you. be safe out there.’

‘always am. love you too.’

beatrice is waiting on the sand when you finally get down there; she’s not looking for you, just watching the sun rise, and you’re going to call out to her when something changes—maybe some ephemeral thing, little more than a change in the quality of the light when you take a step closer; maybe the way she’s holding herself, one hand folded over her wrist where you’ve seen the black ink in the divot of her wrist, delicate letters small enough that you haven’t been able to read it when you’ve snuck a peek or two before. whatever it is, you decide to give her a second on her own.

the sand is hot on the surface and cooler beneath. you shift your weight, dig your feet down until the sand covers the tops of your feet, just to give yourself something to do. and then you stare out over the ocean and breathe.

it’s beautiful. it’s so fucking beautiful. you’ve known this was where you were gonna end up since you were eight years old and your cousin gabriel had pinned a photo of it to your wall—no one will ever consider it a masterwork of photography, that old blurred snapshot of sand and water and the sun, and just a tiny bit of his fingertip, no one but you because it had been his and he gave it to you, because he’d stood on the beach—maybe this beach, maybe right where you are now—and loved it so much he’d taken a photo of it and you’ve got the proof of it (proof of him, always) tucked into a book on your bedside.

‘good morning.’

you drag your eyes away from the sunrise—super gorgeous, thin wispy clouds like cotton-candy, pink in the sunlight, striped across the distant horizon, and everything shimmering in what, logically, you know is the smog haze but for a second it can just be beautiful too—to find that beatrice has wandered up to join you. she’s watching you with the attentive curiosity you’ve come to expect—warmer than polite, cooler than inviting.

‘hey, morning. sorry i’m late—got caught up talking to my brother.’

she nods her understanding. it has a thoughtful tilt to it, or maybe questioning. ‘does he live elsewhere in the world?’

‘excuse me?’

‘it’s early for a call. is he in another timezone?’

you don’t think she’s interrogating you, or she doesn’t mean to interrogate you. you actually think she’s trying to be nice and show interest, so you say, ‘well, he’s home—mexico—so… i think it’s an hour later for him. something like that. but he’s a get-up-and-go kinda guy—has been, ever since i took up surfing. he used to drive me to the water when i was a kid.’

‘older brother, then.’

‘only by a couple of years.’ you roll your eyes, ‘that’s all he needs to get up in my business.’

‘that’s what brothers are for. so i hear.’

‘true.’ you think about saying something more, because all you want to do right now is keep talking to her as long as possible, preferably forever, but that urge seems like a you problem, and something that’ll get washed away the second you dunk your head in the water. ‘okay! hey - mind taking this board and i’ll run back for the other one?’

when you return with your board, hauled down off the roof of your car, beatrice has set her sandals neatly beside her tote a few meters up from the tideline where it’ll all stay dry. you dump your bag right beside hers and jog to join her, check her out with a quick look. of the wetsuit, that is, that you had advised her to buy if surfing was something she wanted to keep doing.

she crouches, wets her hands, and secures the leash of her board carefully around her ankle.

‘good job!’ you compliment, because it’s four-something in the morning and, yeah, it’s your choice to get up this early but that doesn’t mean you’re firing on all cylinders yet. you want to say something impressive and kind and get her eyes on you because she’s pretty and interesting but, here’s the thing, most of the time you’re teaching children so the compliment comes out the way you would say it to little jayla (eight years old and nervous about everything and therefore, in your opinion, the bravest little soul in the world for keeping at it).

beatrice looks over at you, amused, and you earn your third full smile from her.

she’s laughing at you, definitely, which you don’t mind, have never minded when it comes to girls; years of report cards scrunched at the bottom of your bag, with comments amounting to smart enough but needs to spend more time listening and less time clowning around for the girls will back you up in that regard. your mami despaired of your grades and your attention (or lack of it) and she had chided you then, sat you down at the kitchen table opposite her as you made dinner together for the whole family, splitting the excess. she scolded—and pressed a ripped piece of bolillo into your hand to tide you over to dinner—she lamented—and passed over a bowl, diced tomatoes, crisp and red—and she talked to you about hard work and the importance of school and respect for your teachers and you know now that it was all love, that loud bright kitchen and how she made you handle it all together, space and work and life; you didn’t have the words to explain then—though you remember trying, loudly—that you knew, or thought, you were only really any good at two things, that most of the time you feel like you’re sleepwalking through your life and it’s only when you’re out there in the water, or making your friends laugh, that you feel totally real and vital and incredible.

here, today, beatrice’s eyes are on you and you’ve made her smile (laugh, even). you feel invincible.

you laugh at yourself. run a hand through your hair. ‘you wouldn’t believe how many people put their wetsuits on backwards, or don’t bother with the leg rope, so. really, you’re doing great.’

she shrugs very slightly, cheeks gone a little pink under the compliment, or the sunrise, or maybe—a girl can dream—your singular attention. ‘thank you, then.’

‘sure,’ you say, and, ‘i can get your zip for you, if that’s okay? it’s not quite all the way up.’

‘thank you, yes.’

she turns away from you so you can fix it and you do, immediately and without lingering. she has freckles across her shoulders; the teeth of the zipper tug closed, swallow up the sight of them. you think, briefly, about kissing her there on the back of her neck, her shoulders, of taking a zip between your fingers and pulling it down.

‘how does it feel? i know the wetsuits can be weird at first.’

‘it’s fine. i’ve worn stranger.’

you desperately want to ask for details but, aside from her first name, you don’t know anything much about her except that she wants to learn surfing, and probably the first time you ask for more information shouldn’t be about what she’s worn, even though your brain is filled with all kinds of theories. so instead you swallow back a flirty comment—also she is paying you to teach her, you remember abruptly, and maybe you should wait until after the lesson to flirt with her—and nod to the water.

‘let’s hit it, then.’

the sand is golden, and the ocean is starting to turn gold under the sunlight, and you feel a bit golden too. you think idly, self-indulgent, you want heaven to be like this. a golden beach, with everyone you’ve ever loved on it with you. you take it in—a great start to the morning—and, smiling, run forward into the water.

she’s lighter, after surfing.

in your first few lessons, you weren’t sure whether it would be like that for her. it’s not the physical part—she’s obviously fit and athletic enough to be good at surfing (you’ve noticed); there’s this…relaxation isn’t the right word, meditative is close but too dramatic for your tastes.

it’s like this. you paddle out to the calm, past the small waves that break close to the shoreline, and sit on your board and wait, legs dangling in the water, fingers drifting over the surface of it. maybe you sit in silence, maybe you chat with your buddy. and then you pick out a wave and then there’s this feeling when the wave swells and you catch it just right—you’re a little outside of yourself, entirely out of your head, and you experience it totally, trusting the wave to carry you and your body to move the way you’ve taught it to. you thought, when you first met her, that beatrice was too contained for that, every movement so precise, so controlled, intentional and intelligent and totally present, always watched, always watching herself. if there’s anyone who needs to get out of their head, you thought then and think now, it’s beatrice.

and now. it’s only been four lessons, four days of knowing her split up over a couple weeks. you’re sitting on your board, legs in the water, cold spray in your face. august and siti—a couple of the regulars, friendly, you talk sometimes enough to say hello at the least, and lent august your sunscreen last week when they forgot to pack some even though it is not cheap—are a decent way further out. you see a good wave start to roll in and before you can say anything to beatrice, she’s already spotted it and moving. you stay where you are, watching as she catches it alone so you can check her form and you see it happen. she pops up smooth and rides it all the way in. a second later, you’re searching for a wave you can catch and wave at her to stay; you tumble off in the shallows, not your most graceful wave ever, and rush up to her. beatrice is smiling (four and a half, you think, totally brainless), big and so pleased, and you can’t help but grin back at her.

‘you felt it!’ you call out—accuse, almost—when you’re close and she laughs. slicks her hair back off her face with a trembling hand.

‘i - i think - yes, i did, yes.’ she’s breathing hard, from excitement you think—she’s caught waves before, bigger ones even, but this is different and you can tell. it’s entirely confirmed when she reaches out, clasps your wrist, and smiles—all for you. (five and a half.) ‘thank you, thank you.’

‘yes,’ you say, a little brainless, a little helpless. ‘of course.’

(fourteen years old, madly in love with sophie perez and madly heart-broken when you spotted her hand-in-hand with some scruffy-haired unfunny boy, your cousin gabriel had driven far across town to pick you up and, ignoring the impressive sulk you’d sunken into, packed you into his car and took you to the beach. he hadn’t spoken to you at all while you cried into his shoulder, his arm thin and strong around you, holding you tight, a tether, and when you roughly scrubbed the tears off your shame-hot face, he’d smacked your hands away and pulled a pack of tissues from his bag, cleaned you up carefully. nodded when he was done, approving. and then he stood and walked knee-deep into the water, not seeming to care that he was in jeans or that you’d have to get back into his car in wet clothes.

love is like the ocean, he’d said.

you remember rolling your sore eyes because at fourteen years old you already knew that love wasn’t the ocean. love was enjoying all the same music and turning up early to class to get the seat across from hers and the way your heart sped up when you passed her in the hall and staying up way too late dreaming of ways to make her laugh in class the next day. but gabriel was your favourite so you listened carefully, and you’re thankful for that now because you can remember so much. his dark curls, the smudge of his eyeshadow, how cold the water had been on your skin, how warm his arm had been around your shoulders.

not everyone loves her the same way. some people stay for a day and then head back to the mountains. he’d paused. mountains are, i dunno, a loveless marriage in this metaphor. you’d laughed at him. some people paint it, or make movies, but they never swim in it. some people sail out in their nice boats and go fishing. take what they want from her and head back to dry land. but for people like us? gabriel wore rings on his fingers and a shirt, tight, in a dusky kind of orange. love for us is like the ocean. we could drown in it and it wouldn’t be enough. he had a boyfriend in the city, and was beautiful and proud and kind, and you’d looked out over the calm sea and thought the world must be really different for him, vibrant and strange and wonderful. you felt special, nestled into his side.

people like us, he’d said, and you remember because you remember everything about that afternoon, that in amongst his kindness, he’d sounded sad.)

you’re not fourteen anymore. you love the ocean more than you love anything else. when beatrice smiles at you, your heart swells, crashes, drags you under. you love her, too.

‘i love surfing,’ you tell her later, pleasantly tired.

you trudge up toward the car park, stumble a little at the tide-mark where wet sand turns dry and gives way under your weight. you swear under your breath; every spare moment of your life has been spent at one beach or another, and you’d think that would earn some kind of loyalty perk, like, never tripping over your feet in front of cute girls, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. but beatrice only laughs, kindly, and puts a hand out to steady you and you don’t need it but you take it, of course. beatrice is slimmer than you, and a little taller, and far more graceful; you wonder if she’s ever tripped over anything in her life. her hand is cool from the water and calloused and scarred, which you didn’t entirely expect but makes a kind of sense in the collage you’re putting together in your head of what little scraps of information she’s given you.

beatrice takes her hand back; you keep your observations to yourself.

‘you love surfing,’ she prompts. and then, ‘i’m starting to love it too, i think.’

‘it’s okay if you don’t, i won’t think less of you,’ you say, only lying a little bit, which you think she knows because she arches an eyebrow in your direction. you grin back. ‘of course i hope you do. but if you’re only coming to lessons for my many charms, i completely understand.’

‘is it hard? surfing, with such a large head?’ she snarks, unimpressed but eyes bright.

‘god never gives us more than we can handle,’ you say, absolutely facetious, absolutely cocky. she looks away. you put “doesn’t like jokes about god” in the collage of beatrice and move on. ‘you thanked me. earlier. you don’t need to. you’re paying me, first of all,’ you tease, ‘but. i love surfing for what it is, for myself, out there alone. i love every bit of it. but the teaching part… i didn’t expect to love that. it’s turned out to be so cool. getting to know all kinds of people, introduce them to surfing. and the water, too, sometimes. watching them fall in love with…’

you stop at the rocks and look behind you. the strip of sand, the greedy suck of the tide crawling higher up the beach, the shimmering green-glass sea.

‘with all of that.’

you think about being embarrassed about your tone—way too sincere, way too holy—but when you meet her eyes you see she understand this, too: that holy can be found outside the cathedral, that hymns can be the raucous gull shriek and wave crash and breath.

‘getting to partake, and teach, and do what i love every day? honestly my genuine pleasure.’

the words bring something complicated to her face. sad? wistful? a little angry, definitely. her eyes return to the view; you stay looking at her, not keen to lose whatever she might say to the crash and hiss of the waves.

‘i wish…’ she holds herself still. she’s lost the lightness surfing brought her; you don’t know if it’s your fault, you hope it isn’t, or if it was never going to last very long for her. ‘i wish i had that.’

if you were thinking about it properly, you don’t know beatrice or her situation well enough to give advice. but you like her, and you want to be able to help, and you get the impossibly strong (if slightly uncertain) vibe of queerness absolutely radiating off her and that you understand. plus, surfing makes you brave—a little stupid in that invincible way, like nothing can hurt you, like nothing can truly go wrong, like anything that does go wrong can be fixed—so, picking up your board again, you head off toward your car once more and she follows.

as you walk, you say, ‘i think you can have it. i think you can make it. joy, passions, a life you want to live… that doesn’t fall out of the sky, you know?’ she flinches at that but you keep going, since you already dove in. ‘most of the time, you have to work for it. all of the time, it’s about making decisions and figuring out what’s important. figuring out who you are—how you feel, how you want to exist, what you want to do. and then you have to find your way there.’ scraping your fingers through your hair, pushing it back out of your eyes, you take a second to think. ‘once you know the life you want to have, you can go out and get it. a little at a time.’

she stops where the sand hits concrete, which you get. the beach feels worlds away from reality, sometimes, and you get wanting to stay there as long as possible. everything seems smaller, compared to the ocean. more manageable. you stand there with her.

‘what if what i want is impossible?’

‘…damn. great question. i don’t know. set yourself an easier goal?’ that startles her, and for a moment you think it would have been better to be gentle or sincere but then she laughs, louder than before. god, you think, thank you for letting me meet her. thank you for letting me make her laugh. ‘i don’t always turn into a life coach and give unasked for advice after surfing, i swear. it costs ten bucks more for that package, if you want to spring for that next time, but hey, first one for free.’

‘perhaps i will. you seem to have all the answers.’

‘maybe not all of them but yeah, i know some stuff.’ you let sincerity bleed through, here, because you joke around but there’s something serious and seriously healing about being with other people, being able to be open and honest with them, and you can be that for beatrice, if she wants.

‘what about you?’

‘what about me?’

‘you made the decision to come here,’ beatrice says, with that faintly accusing, faintly interrogative tone she gets. ‘why?’

ah. here is what your invincibility gets you—the sting of salt in your eyes; a heavy pressure against your head, your ears, like you’ve dunked you head beneath the waves and all you can hear is the slam of your pulse; and that feeling—one that doesn’t hit so often anymore—that you are just one little creature treading water at the top of the vast ocean, alone, with no one around to help you out.

it only lasts for a few seconds.

you’ve talked to people, on and off, for a few years. and you know how to ground yourself in the here and now—the heat of the sand, the sun on your shoulders, your hair drying into careless waves and curling a little around your ears, tickling your jaw, the taste of salt and lip balm when you lick your lips, the click of your wrist when you flex it.

you step off the sand and into the parking lot, toward your car. for a minute, you work in silence getting your board up onto the rack; the work helps but the collar of your wetsuit is soaked and heavy, tight around your throat. when you turn back to help beatrice with her board, you grab for the zipper and tug it down an inch, let it slacken so you can breathe better.

it has been a long enough delay in answering her that she’s starting to make assumptions, observations of her own. she also has the faintly horrified look of someone who has stepped in something gross—dog shit, or, in this case, brought up a more deeply personal conversation than she was prepared for—and looks like she’s searching desperately for a way to change the subject. but it was a direct question, an honest one and not unfair, not one you’re unhappy answering, so you say,

‘when i say you make decisions, choices…things happen to us in life and we can’t control that shit. but you get to decide what to do after that. something… something kinda rough happened in my life.’ you look at her, and think of a grief so profound that you have to wear it on your skin. you flex your hands, and look down at the tattoo on her wrist that you still haven’t taken the time to examine, not visible under the sleeve of her wetsuit. ‘my cousin died,’ you tell her. ‘he was really important to me. and after that, i chose to come here. left my hometown, my family, and started again. i’d wanted to do it for ages and i guess i realised this was the only life i was gonna get. so here i am. and that,’ you say, tone much lighter, ‘is all you’re getting out of me this morning. you know how it goes—just a little of a great thing at a time. can’t risk you getting sick of me, can i?’

beatrice looks at you for a long moment, fingers resting on her wrist. eventually, she shakes her head, passes over her board. ‘i’m not sick of you.’’

‘oh yeah?’ you hoist up the board and fix it in place. when you look back over your shoulder, you mean to say something teasing but lose your head because she’s looking at you—your back, your arms. you flex a little more than you need to and her eyes dart to your muscles, your wrists, and linger on your tattooed hands.

she turns away with pink cheeks you’re certain isn’t the sun’s fault. clasps her hands behind her back.

‘thank you,’ she says, sincerely. ‘for sharing that with me.’

‘sure, of course.’ it’s not really an of course. you can count on two hands the number of people you would talk to about gabriel. but it’s an of course for her. you don’t think too hard about it.

‘and for the lessons.’

that makes you laugh. ‘the ones you are paying for? you’re welcome.’ it’s kind of obvious at this point that she’s just looking for things to say, to hang out a little longer, and you take pity on her. and also, you want to spend more time with her too so, hey, works out perfectly. ‘if you’re not busy, if you don’t have to run off, maybe we can talk some more? i don’t have to be anywhere for a while and there’s this place down the road—a few minutes that way, walking distance, easy. decent coffee, great view. we could get coffee. breakfast, even.’

beatrice turns super slowly and stiffly to look in the direction you point. it’s a long, long moment before she looks at you.

‘as a date?’

‘hopefully, yeah.’

‘oh.’ her eyes dart around the mostly empty parking lot—it can’t be later than six, if that—and suddenly contained seems a little more like hidden. ‘I’m—that’s kind of you—’ she swallows. sets her shoulders, her jaw, and meets your eyes. ‘i have a partner.’

‘that makes sense.’ you wonder, briefly, what her partner is like. you hope they’re stoic and serious as beatrice is, because if they’re hot and funny like you it’ll be vaguely devastating. maybe you’ll get to meet them. ‘as friends, then.’ beatrice hesitates. ‘would your partner be cool with that?’

beatrice smiles again, one of those not-for-you smiles. you think again, more fervently, that you’d like to meet her partner—they must be something seriously special to have captured beatrice’s attention, first of all, but to get her to smile like that…

‘she’d be delighted, actually.’ she touches her wrist and nods. ‘yes. thank you. i - we - can do that. get coffee.’

she makes it sound revolutionary, like she’s never had coffee before, which you know is not the case because you’d mentioned, offhand, that if one more goddamn politician or bank twitter account advised people to save money and make coffee at home you were gonna lose it, and she’d agreed that she preferred homemade tea and store-bought coffee, and mentioned an article she’d read on how coffee was produced and how it worked, which she though was “quite interesting” and when she forwarded it to your e-mail it wasn’t a think piece like you’d been expecting but rather a fourteen page research article, peer-reviewed, on the social aspects of caffeine consumption, or something like that. there’s genuine nerves in her rigid posture, and you think of how revolutionary, world-changing, bold, fucking terrifying and a little bloody it’s been to get here, where you’re standing now.

‘cool. if you’ve got time after, there’s this surf shop—it’s a bit of a hike but,’ you flick your eyes to the cloudless blue sky overhead. ‘nice day for it. we can look at a couple of boards for you. i’m happy to go with you, help you find something good. borrowing a board is fine while you’re learning but it’ll be easier and feel better when you’ve got one that’s properly suited to you.’

she nods seriously, the way she always does when you talk about surfing, student to teacher. ‘i - would like that.’

‘yeah? awesome, alright!’

the cafe is a decent size and decently popular, which normally makes it hard to get a seat sometimes but today is a day of miracles and a couple is clearing out right as you get in, freeing up a table in the laneway. it’s in a good spot, shaded by one of the wide umbrellas and not in the way of the servers, so you sit sideways in your chair and happily stretch out your legs, pluck off your sunglasses and hang them off the collar of your t-shirt. opposite, beatrice tucks herself into her seat prim and proper, no surprises there; what does surprise you is how still she sits and how, even though you know that she agreed—wants—to be here, it’s like she’s trying to go invisible.

the server who brings out your drinks is young and harried, doesn’t even pause when you thank him. you’d ordered an espresso, and beatrice had asked for the same, but now she’s staring down at it doubtfully.

‘did you want something else?’

she shakes her head no. ‘i’d like to try it. this is your preferred coffee?’

‘my abuelo makes the meanest espresso you’ve ever had. this is water in comparison.’

‘oh.’

‘but it’s a nice place and i like the beans they use here. i really should ask what their blend is one of these days but,’ you shrug. ‘i don’t have a machine at home so what’s the point, right?’

she nods. picks up the little cup and sips at it. immediately, her nose wrinkles and her lips twist and her perfect posture breaks for a second as she bodily fights the urge to say, presumably, judging by her grimace, ‘yuck!’ she lowers it but doesn’t set it down, like it would be impolite to abandon it immediately, and watches with the tiniest grimace as you drink it happily.

‘not for you?’

‘at risk of sounding like a stereotype, i am more of a tea drinker. this is…rather a powerful taste.’ she looks a little guilty setting it back down. ‘do you mind if i order something else?’

‘no, course not. but i might judge you on what you get,’ you tease, grinning, and she just rolls her eyes, nods. you split your attention between enjoying the morning and watching the line creep forward until she’s at the register, shake your head when she folds another note into the tip jar.

she comes back to the table with another coffee—an oatmilk latte, with lavender of all things—and, as promised, you tease her gently about it.

‘really settling in, aren’t you? very LA of you,’ you say, and pretend to gag. ‘lavender. gross.’

beatrice smiles over the lip of her cup, shakes her head. ‘your favourite drink tastes like battery acid, i don’t think your opinion counts.’

‘ouch.’

‘you mentioned your abuelo,’ she says. ‘do you have much family?’

talking about family is easy, even if beatrice does make it a little of an interrogation—she gets everyone’s names and ages, nodding with this intense look in her eyes like she’s filing it away somewhere in her brain, like if you never spoke again and ran into each other in ten years she would still remember. you don’t have anything to hide, happy to tell her: yes, you’ve been here a while, a little over five years; surfing has always been your favourite thing to do; no, it’s not your only job, you have a very boring desk job but the boring bits are compensated by the fact that you get to work from home and your boss is kind of amazing about letting you take your afternoon run down to the beach and back; yes, you’re queer, you’ve known forever and so has your family, and yes they’re fine with it, very supportive, and they love you the same as they always did after you came out.

‘barely needed to, really. my mami said she knew since i was like ten, eleven, maybe. all because i followed my tennis coach around like a duckling, which makes sense because i can’t think of why else i would play tennis, it fucking sucks.’ beatrice sips guardedly at her coffee, looking away, and it’s so carefully inoffensive that you have to laugh. ‘tell me you don’t love tennis, beatrice, please.’

she shrugs carefully. ‘i’ve enjoyed it in the past. both playing and spectating.’

you groan. ‘no, beatrice! christ.’

‘it’s an olympic sport—‘

‘it’s dead boring,’ you insist.

beatrice frowns at you, considering. ‘you’re bad at it,’ she announces after a moment, very confident. ‘if you were better at it, perhaps you’d enjoy it more.’ you laugh, shrug a little, because she’s hit the nail on the head. she continues, ‘to its credit, tennis has serena williams, the most incredible athlete—‘

‘messi.’

‘team sport,’ she counters, and you cede the point with a nod.

‘certainly she’s the greatest tennis player of all time—‘

‘oh undoubtedly.’

‘—and it’s also one of the only sports that pays men and women equal prize money, and has mixed competitions.’

‘great points,’ you allow. ‘and yet, somehow it’s still fucking boring.’ beatrice fully scowls, shaking her head, and you have to ask, ‘are you rethinking being friends with me?’

she relents after a moment. sets down her drink with a sigh. ‘we can be friends,’ she tells you after a moment. ‘so long as we’re on the same page regarding serena williams.’

‘i’d love to regard serena williams.’

‘you should watch tennis, then,’ beatrice tells you bluntly, and smiles, pleased, when you laugh hard at that.

‘okay. you know everything about me now so what about you?’

‘what about me?’

you push a hand through your hair, ruffle it; her eyes follow the movement, your hands, and then she stares down at her coffee. ‘how long have you been in LA?’

‘a month. perhaps a little less.’

‘and you came here because…?’ when she hesitates, you say, ‘wait, wait, let me guess—you’re going to be in movies, right?’ she laughs like that’s ridiculous—even if one in five people you meet here is an aspiring actor, and none of them as compelling or, honestly, attractive as beatrice is—and relaxes. ‘ok, not movies. tv?’

‘no, i’m not here to act. i’m here to…’ she picks up a knife off the table, turns the cutlery smoothly between her fingers. ‘settle, i suppose. i’ve been travelling for some time.’

‘oh yeah? where to?’

it takes a little nudging for her to get going but when she does, she speaks very sincerely of the world, of its people and religions, of sights natural and man-made. she’s light on details but you can tell that the travel was important and life-changing, which you sort of understand. you haven’t been many places but every town away from where you grew up felt like a whole new world, like freedom, and you can only imagine that beatrice’s travelling was like that but no doubt on a far grander scale.

‘and your partner? what are they like?’ you ask, and immediately know that you’ve fucked up, because beatrice looks abruptly striken. ‘sorry, i -‘

‘no. it’s fine. she - ‘ a little of the horror in her fades the moment she says she, like even the thought of her partner is enough to soothe, but most of it stays. she picks up one of the paper napkins, twists it harshly between her fingers. ‘she’s sick.’

sick, she says, voice thick, unsteady. it occurs to you that she’s lying, trying to soften the blow or maybe deny it to herself again, but beatrice doesn’t seem like a liar. you choose to believe her. this is what it was, you realise. the source of that grief you’d felt, seen, ever since you first met her. you recognise the grief in her eyes—loss, fear, confusion too, like she doesn’t know quite what to do with herself. you remember that. the fog, the ache, when he was gone like an organ removed and your life having to close and heal around the lack. trying to find something that filled in that empty space, or fit enough that it didn’t hurt so much.

love for us is like the ocean. that’s true for you, then and now. you don’t think it’s the same for beatrice.

there’s love in every part of her—the joy and the waiting, the grief and the hurting—and there’s a cross around her neck that drags low, heavy, and there are words on her wrist that stand out stark against her skin and you think for beatrice love is like religion, holy, dedicated, faithful. you’re terrified that she’s waiting for a miracle that will never come; you hope, of course you hope and will pray for it tonight, that she gets it.

it’s also far too much to consider on a weekday before coffee, and you’ve already planned to keep her in your life in whatever capacity you can, so. you can talk about it later.

‘oh. that’s -’ beatrice looks like if you say another word she’s gonna bolt; if she does, you’re not sure that she’ll come to her next lesson, even if she has already paid for it. instead of condolences or well wishes, you say, ‘do you wanna hear about the time i hopped a fence and ripped my pants? right in the butt.’

she wasn’t expecting that in the slightest, obviously. a small smile curls her lips upwards and she resettles, looking dramatically less like she’s going to flee. ‘yes. that sounds very amusing.’

‘it’s funny now, sure, but back then? first of all, i got teased a lot. and second, it fucking stung,’ you bemoan, grinning when she looks a little unsure of whether this was, like, the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. she relaxes a little more and you thank god and your parents and brother that you get to be the person you are, someone who can make other people laugh. that’s not a bad life–surfing at the beach, a boring job, and making your friends laugh? not bad at all.

‘sounds like a pain in the ass.’ beatrice says, looking very pleased with her joke when it makes you groan, which is a lot better than her looking devastated. ‘what happened?’

‘usual idiot kid stuff. playing footy with my brother, kicked the ball over the neighbours fence. i thought i could jump it, get it back for us, and i did. mostly,’ you add after a tiny pause. then, slyly, you say, ‘the only reason i didn’t rip my boxers and my pants is because i was going commando.’

‘no.’

‘better a cut up my ass than ruining my good boxers,’ you wink, and beatrice laughs.

it’s just as easy as that to turn the conversation to lighter topics. she knows what you’re doing—you can tell, because her smile is occasionally too grateful than is deserved for just a chat over coffee—but she allows you to do it, and all too soon it’s been an hour and she’s buying you a second coffee, takeaway this time, and tipping, like, two hundred per cent with the most pristine notes you’ve ever seen tucked away in this slim handsome wallet, and you’re walking lazily, slowly back the way you’d come toward the beach. it’s not really a surprise that she declines the offer of heading to the surf shop—she still seems a bit unsteady after the mention of her partner—and you’re a little worried that she’ll disappear from your life now so you slow your pace when you see your car, twirl your keys around your finger.

‘what is it, ray?’ she asks, a touch cautious but mostly good-natured, curious.

‘busted. i was just thinking… you have a partner—major bummer, by the way,’ you tease, which is a fucking risk, but she manages a tiny smile. ‘mostly for you, because i was gonna ask you out and it would’ve been a good time, i know all the coolest places in LA.’ her cheeks go a little pink but she’s still smiling, so, ‘so despite being heart-broken, i’m going to this party tomorrow night. just a small thing, house party with a bunch of folks i go surfing with. you’ll probably meet most of them, if you keep up the dawn patrol, but it might be nice to get to know them out of the water. y’know, wearing clothes.’ much more seriously, much more sincerely, you tell her, ‘it’s absolutely cool if you want to be with your partner, or if you’re not going out much, but i wanted to invite you anyway. i think you’d enjoy it. very casual scene—music, some beers, a disproportionate amount of queer folk. plus, i’ll be there looking hot, that’s always a plus. you can be my wingwoman!’

beatrice frowns, considering her words carefully. ‘my partner is… she’s in a speciality hospital so i don’t get to visit her. i - promised her i would have some fun,’ she tells you, fingers brushing against her wrist. in this life, you’ve managed to read now, sitting opposite her for an hour in the morning sunlight, drinking coffee that almost tastes like home, sitting in a body and a life that entirely feels at home, and you look across at beatrice and see someone who is almost there. almost certain, almost sure, almost happy. ‘yes,’ she says, after taking a bolstering breath. brave, you think, with sudden fondness, protective. it comes to you, a splinter of a memory, being afraid of the ocean; gabriel plunging in ahead of you with such joy that you forgot. ‘yes,’ she says again, ‘i’d love to come to the party.’

‘amazing!’

‘and, while i find it difficult to imagine you would have a problem finding people to go on dates with you, yes, i will be your…wingwoman, if you require it. what is the dress code?’

‘too hot for leather, unfortunately,’ you tease, and have the extreme delight of watching beatrice stumble over literally nothing, ears going pink. so, so valiantly you manage to not comment on it. instead, you say, ‘wear whatever makes you feel good and happy. hot, if you want to feel hot. that’s always the rule.’

‘you get to decide what you do.’ it takes you a second to place her words—they’re your words, from this morning, which makes you smile because she’s quoting you, very seriously and kindly like that actually helped her, maybe. ‘i do best with rules, or a guideline,’ she mutters, but sets her shoulders and nods, decisive. ‘i’ll find something to wear. you have my number.’

‘from your form, i do, yeah. it’s cool if i text you?’

‘yes.’

‘alright. awesome, i’ll pin the address for you.’

‘good.’

beatrice walks you all the way to your car, shakes your hand like you’ve just concluded a job interview, and then continues on quickly. she’s got a white-knuckle grip on the handle of her tote bag and walks away with this quick, neat stride that makes you feel self-conscious about your own walk, like maybe you’ve been doing it wrong for your whole life. more importantly, there’s about a thirty per cent change that beatrice will actually turn up at this party but you’ve hoped for things with worse odds that were way less important to you than this, so you easily, recklessly hope that she’ll turn up.

the likelihood of beatrice actually showing up is still low, you remind yourself, even though she had texted this morning to accept and had thanked you very sincerely - and formally - for the invitation. the uber drops you off on the corner where you had agreed to meet and you hop out, saying a cheerful goodbye to your driver, rajeev, who had taken one look at you and nodded and switched his playlist to something titled GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS which…accurate. he totally earned his five stars and you’re clicking through to leave a quick review—clean car, GREAT music—when beatrice calls your name.

‘hey! you came!’

beatrice strides up the street to join you. the timing of her arrival three seconds after yours is odd enough that, for a second, you wonder if she’s been waiting and for how long. then, you get distracted by beatrice in her gay ass outfit—lightwash jeans, loose, that fall to her ankles; a soft-looking crewneck, blue; and birkenstocks that are either brand new or excruciatingly well-cared for, with not a speck of dirt on the white sandals—and realise you’ve made a huge mistake. there’s no way beatrice can be your wingwoman. every queer woman in this house will flock to her and her damn british accent and her freckles and her polite, comfortable, slightly masculine air, and the way she looks at everyone like they’re important. god. beatrice is devastating at four in the morning in a wetsuit, hair slicked back with ocean water; she’s devastating now, with the sleeves of her crew folded just once, precisely, enough to show off the dip of her wrists, and her hair pinned up in a pristine bun.

she stops mid-step, looks you up and down, and you stop calling yourself an idiot long enough to preen. with beatrice coming tonight, you felt like getting a little dressy and picked everything with slightly more care, ending up in a satin-type top you’ve tucked into high-waisted pants. it drapes open rather handsomely almost to your belly button—you’ve only done up half the buttons tonight, because you believe sincerely in being god’s gift to women and it’s your duty to parade around with a little skin showing, enough to tantalize. maybe a little slutty, just for fun. you’ve got a few chains hanging around your neck, and some rings on your fingers.

‘oh, i am gay,’ beatrice mutters when she gets a good look at you. ‘sorry - that’s,’

you wave off her apology or whatever she’s going to say, because a compliment is a compliment and that is a damn good compliment, especially coming from her.

‘delighted to be of service, honestly. any time you need reminding.’ you stroll over to greet her properly—not a hug, but an obvious once over, so she can see how much you approve of her look too, and then a tap to her elbow in hello—and she examines you a second time, looking marginally less embarrassed to get caught. this time, her eyes linger on your necklaces; no, your cross.

‘catholic?’

‘born and raised. you?’

she only nods, lips pursed. glancing around, she says, ‘the party is around here?’

‘yeah. oh, yeah, it’s on this street. one minute walk, maybe two.’ she looks a little confused and you admit, ‘i wasn’t sure if you actually wanted to come. i wanted to meet up with you first, make sure you were comfortable.’

rather than being offended, beatrice relaxes. ‘that’s kind of you.’

‘well, i want you to have fun. it will be fun,’ you insist, and start in the direction of luis’s place. ‘i’ll take care of you tonight, i promise—you can drink, if you want, or smoke. no pressure. i’ll stay sober anyway. but what i really want is to introduce you to my friends, i really think you’ll like them.’

‘because we’re all queer?’ beatrice guesses, a note of something odd in her tone. it’s not suspicion, but something akin to it.

‘yeah, sure. i know what it’s like moving to a new place and not knowing anyone, it’s rough. especially for us,’ you say, light on the emphasis but apparent enough that beatrice looks at you again, and nods to herself. ‘but aside from being queer, i just really think you’ll like them. luis is the one hosting tonight. they’re super smart, they’re finishing a phd in anthropology, movement in borderlands—oh, and they will offer you weed every half hour but that’s not you, and you don’t have to accept, it’s just their idea of hospitality.’ beatrice nods very solemnly. you can practically hear the information being locked away in her brain and the image makes you smile. ‘it’s this one, up ahead.’

as promised, the party is pretty chill—low lights, not too packed, good music. it’s a really nice night and there are a few folk standing around on the porch, drinks in hand; when you get in, you’ll probably find most of the guests have spilled out into the back yard. plus, you’re only a few streets back from the beach—based on the last few parties luis has hosted, the beach is where you’ll end up in a few hours.

beatrice stops outside the house, stares in through the open door. she touches two fingers to her wrist. you stand with her, beside her, and part of you aches because you know that there is someone else who should be here, who she wants very badly to be here, and it seems terribly unfair that something this simple - a party, new friends, the distant sound of the ocean - isn't simple at all.

‘all good?’

‘thank you,’ she says, softly. ‘for inviting me. and don’t say you need a wingwoman because i sincerely doubt that.’

you grin. run a hand through your hair in a way that makes you look particularly douchey, according to your ex. ‘thanks. i appreciate that. and no, i don’t need a wingwoman but it can’t hurt... except if the girls hear that accent, actually,’ you say with a thoughtful frown, like it’s only occurring to you now that beatrice is hot. you step in front of her like you’re blocking her way to the house, even as you back up toward the house, the party. ‘this is bad, i’ve made a huge mistake, you gotta go,' you insist, teasingly.

beatrice laughs and follows you in.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #warrior nun #avatrice #sort of but its also like. a love letter to the butch bea world & the introduction of ray my beloved #i need to read it again & edit before i post it to ao3 but its midnight so here have it before i scream

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