#avatrice fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

possibilistfanfiction · 1 year ago

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surgeons au - when they get engaged?

[@gohandinhand hbd pt2 lol // ao3]

‘chief superion?’ dr. alvarez says, poking her head into your office and looking more frazzled than you expect and much more frazzled than you ever want to see any of your doctors, especially your head of ortho. ‘do you, uh — do you have a moment?’

you never have a moment, but you close your computer and nod, motion for her to come sit.

‘actually, i… can you come with me? it’s for…’ she sighs. ‘please?’

it worries you, instantly, because this would never happen if things were business as usual, if everything was running smoothly. ‘what’s going on, dr. alvarez?’

she hesitates. ‘it’s ava,’ she finally admits after a few seconds.

you’ve spent decades perfecting the art of looking calm when you are very much not, but this tests you immediately, the jolt of panic that shoots through your body. when silva had joined your residency program, he had frustrated you beyond measure: you thought her unserious, impatient, selfish — the only reason you had any patience to begin with is because jillian had recommended her so warmly after ava’s time as her doctoral candidate. but you were so, so wrong — about her work ethic, her overwhelming compassion, her deep bravery and even deeper capacity for love. beatrice, from even before she had matched with your hospital, had been your favorite in a way that you trusted her to, one day, take over your program and continue to make sure it’s the best in the world — even better, you’re certain. she’s unshakably calm under pressure, good with patients and colleagues alike, a skilled surgeon and even more skilled teacher.

but ava is special in a way that feels too close to even say — your mentee, the incredible leader of next generation of neurosurgeons and researchers: miracle after miracle, delivered with a bravado and a kindness that’s impossible to teach.

so you nod, stand and grab your cane with the steadiest hands you can manage. camila leads you, silently and quickly, clearly also trying to act calm, to the nearest staff bathroom to the OR, and you open the door and then see ava sitting on the small bench there, slumped over a little to one side. normally, ava never stops moving, always fidgeting, gesturing, greeting you with a wave and a daily attempt to get you to come up with a secret handshake with her. but now, ava’s face is set in a pained grimace and her body is noticeably still.

‘hey, dr. s,’ they say, trying to smile, but it doesn’t work.

‘hello, dr. silva.’ you feel caught in no-man’s land for a moment, with ava so still and camila hovering worriedly.

‘so, i, uh. well, first of all, my surgery went great. secondly, please don’t tell bea until we know what’s going on.’

‘ava —‘

‘— i can’t move.’

you don’t have any comforting thing to say: you’ve seen ava’s scans over the years, especially when her back has flared before; you know about how jillian is always working on more effective injections, better tech. you hear about it when you visit her lab for business, and you also hear about it over quiet dinners at either of your houses, with the lights low and her voice taking on a sadder timbre than the determined, professional clip when she’s talking only of science, not of love too.

so instead you nod and walk toward ava, crouch down with only a few clicks in your knee — you’ll take it. ‘numbness? tingling?’

‘i —‘ ava’s voice shakes and she takes a deep breath, steadies herself. ‘i can’t feel anything. it’s — there’s just nothing.’

you go through a few more questions and she answers with what you can tell is honesty: she’d been in pain lately but nothing out of the ordinary, especially with the winter weather rolling in; there wasn’t anything concerning before operating, or else she certainly would’ve postponed; after she finished — eight hours of concentrating and microscopic movements later — when she sat down, things degraded quickly from there.

‘i had my intern page cam,’ they say, ‘because i just — bea is going to panic and go into worst-case-scenario mode, and i don’t know if it actually is worst-case-scenario or just, you know, a passionate flare-up.’

all of you can guess that this is not a normal flare, but, ‘okay. let’s get an mri then. but i don’t want to move you without a brace and a backboard.’

ava pouts.

‘you know i can’t justify just helping you transfer to a chair right now.’

‘yeah, but it doesn’t mean i have to like it.’

you place a tender hand on the top of her head and she leans into it, just for a moment: a comfort, quiet and small and, you imagine, as much as she can accept right now.

‘alright,’ ava says, sniffling. ‘let’s get this show on the road.’

you would never take away ava’s autonomy, especially not now, but when you show her the scans — the worst worst-case-scenario results — she bites her bottom lip, clearly trying not to cry, and you say, ‘can i page dr. choi for you?’

ava looks toward the ceiling in frustration, in fear, in anger, in grief. ‘yeah,’ she says eventually. ‘yeah, i want her here.’

it’s a risky surgery, one that even you feel unsure about: if things go wrong, or, really, even if they go right, ava could have worse chronic pain and irreversible paralysis. beatrice accepts those risks steadily when you talk to her privately, when camila is doing one final pre-op update of ava’s vitals, her mouth set in a firm line, jaw clenched tightly.

the risks that shake both of you are much worse: too much blood loss, stroke, a lack of oxygen to the brain. you don’t want to say them, let alone think them about ava, but they both deserve to know, to choose.

but, ‘there’s no other options, are there?’ beatrice says, finally sitting down and putting her head in her hands, running a hand over her hair and then sitting back in the stiff chair, slumped, horrified.

your silence is the only answer she needs, because she’s brilliant and there’s nothing else you can say: you will do everything in your power. she knows that.

‘just — i love him.’

‘i know,’ you tell her. ‘i do too.’

she nods. ‘okay,’ she says, steeling her resolve as she looks to ava’s room. ‘okay.’

‘hey,’ ava says, ‘can you scoot where i can fully see you with this stupid neck brace on?’

even without being able to move, even scared out of her mind, ava glares at you. it makes you want to smile, the fight that sits in her bones.

beatrice sits carefully on the side of ava’s bed fully in her line of sight. ‘what do you need, my love?’

ava smiles softly. you wonder, briefly, if she feels the grief of not being able to touch her partner, always so tactile. ‘don’t pretend this couldn’t end really badly, please.’

‘ava.’

‘bea.’

beatrice frowns, staring down at their linked hands, held tightly even if ava can’t himself.

‘i’ve lived way longer and better than i ever thought i would,’ ava says.

‘and you’ll have plenty of good time left,’ beatrice says, stubborn even still.

‘well, i hope so,’ ava concedes. ‘but i just — i gotta ask you something, just in case.’

beatrice swallows, clearly fighting back tears, and nods.

‘there’s a ring in my tan purse, the one i never use.’

beatrice does start to cry then; she shakes her head.

ava’s smile is so, so sad. ‘i was waiting for, like, the perfect moment or the perfect plan. which you still deserve, but, well.’ she shrugs with her jaw clenched in pain. ‘i can’t get down on one knee right now, but i know you’ll like the ring.’

‘i — i’ve known,’ beatrice admits, which has them both laughing through tears. beatrice dries ava’s cheeks first, then her own.

‘and you didn’t say anything?!’

‘i knew you wanted to ask. also, i was just looking for a spare mint; it didn’t seem fair to ruin your surprise for such a ridiculous reason.’

ava shakes her head. ‘that’s very kind.’ and then, ‘so, what do you say then?’

‘i, um — i have a ring too, in my winter pack.’

ava grins. ‘so that’s a yes?’

‘yes, ava,’ beatrice says, then leans forward to kiss him softly. ‘of course it’s a yes. as soon as you can, i’ll marry you. i’ve wanted to for years.’

‘wow,’ ava says. ‘okay, cool. sweet. it’s a yes from me too, obviously. also — is it a big diamond? family heirloom?’

beatrice laughs, despite it all. ‘i thought a diamond band might suit work better.’

‘hot,’ ava tells her. ‘well, when i wake up, i expect it.’

‘i’ll send lilith to rifle through all our belongings as soon as i can.’

ava sobers. ‘i wish i could feel you.’

beatrice cups ava’s jaw gently, her thumb grazing over her cheek. ‘i’m here.’

‘i love you,’ ava says.

‘i love you so much, ava silva.’ beatrice smiles, watery and terrified and sorrowful and grateful. she kisses ava, who leans her head up as best she can with a neck brace on. ‘in this life.’

ava nods, sniffles, and then looks at you, resolved, determined. ‘let’s do it.’

‘promise me,’ ava says, loopy from the drugs already administered in her IV but not asleep yet, ‘that you’ll take care of her if things don’t work out.’

‘things will work out.’

ava shakes her head. ‘we both know they might not.’

you smooth your hand over ava’s hair. ‘you are both loved beyond measure,’ you say, and ava takes it in.

‘well, try your best not to fuck it up.’

you laugh, and ava grins, and then her eyes flutter closed.

you explain to beatrice — now changed into joggers and a hoodie you’re sure was once ava’s — her alma mater not even close to beatrice’s — since it’s the middle of the night, lilith sitting stiffly beside her — that ava is alive but there were complications: too much blood loss, low oxygen levels. her spine is stabilized and you think — you hope — that part, at least, was successful, but you’re just not really sure if ava will wake up — or, if she does, what her cognitive function will be, who she’ll be.

beatrice takes it, just for a moment, like a physical blow, but then she nods. ‘thank you,’ she says, quiet and polite without fail, but lilith looks on, concerned.

‘we’ll monitor him closely in the neuro icu,’ you say, ‘and hope for the best.’ you don’t think beatrice has prayed in years and years, but there’s a rosary, probably lilith’s, clenched in her hand.

‘okay,’ she says, and follows you quietly there.

even though beatrice is a surgeon, seeing ava hooked up to so many monitors, drains and leads and an oxygen cannula in her nose, seems to give her pause, slightly unsteady on her feet — just for a moment, but enough for you to think nothing of it when you take her in your arms and hug her tight. unlike ava, who is always physically affectionate, beatrice has been reticent for as long as you’ve known her. but she sinks into it this time, letting out a shaky sob while you rub her back, and then steadies herself eventually.

she sits down by ava’s bedside, faithful as always, and brave, and fishes out a box from her pocket, opens it and then slips a beautiful ring onto ava’s left hand. ava’s hands are cold, you know, because you made personally sure that she was comfortably settled in bed; but beatrice just holds steady, brings it to her lips, kisses the cool, still skin there.

she murmurs something — please wake up; please don’t leave me; i love you, you’re not sure.

you’re technically both done with your shift and also behind on so much paperwork, but you settle down at the nurse’s station and watch ava’s vitals as beatrice prays.

jillian brings you breakfast early the next morning, kissing your forehead in a show of affection that you both rarely allow at either of your workplaces. but she loves ava too, for years now, even longer than you, and so she takes you by the hand and leads you into her room. beatrice is asleep on mary’s shoulder, shannon bringing coffee for everyone. there certainly aren’t this many people supposed to be allowed in an icu room, but it doesn’t stop anyone because it doesn’t really matter: whenever a nurse comes in to change a dressing or an iv, you all stay out of the way. it’s quiet, small conversations only. you think ava would probably hate it — the lack of stupid jokes, beatrice’s bright laugh, mary and lilith’s fondness not at all masked by their snark.

you take turns getting beatrice to eat; you sleep lightly. eventually jillian makes you shower, changing out of your scrubs and into comfortable slacks and a soft sweater she’d brought you.

it stays like this for two days: so many people from the hospital dropping by to see how ava’s doing, to drop off flowers, to check in with beatrice too. ava’s kindness is remarkably present even when he’s not fully; being returned tenfold. you don’t even ask or say anything, just make sure that beatrice’s shifts are covered by your other cardio attendings, and so she waits, sentinel.

and then, just as beatrice is about to doze off again, 46 hours after you’d finished surgery, ava groans. beatrice shoots up like she’s not sure it happened, a specter too good to imagine.

‘ava?’ she asks hesitantly.

it seems like a herculean effort, and you wait with bated breath, but then ava fights and opens her eyes. ‘hey bea,’ she says, weak and rough but coherent, aware, sure.

beatrice smiles, immediate tears running down her cheeks. ‘hi.’

ava lifts her left hand — a miracle in itself — an inch or so off the bed, but easy, natural, and sees the ring there, beams. ‘hot.’

beatrice kisses ava’s forehead, her cheeks, her mouth — joy, everywhere.

you walk ava down the aisle, almost a year later — it was slow going, at first, and then more and more progress in physical therapy, beatrice’s steadfast reassurance through even the most frustrating, painful days. but now you’re here, ava smiling at your matching canes.

‘wouldn’t be here without you,’ he says, in his wispy, beautiful white dress and immaculate makeup.

you smile, hug her to you. ‘it’s an honor.’

you walk her down the aisle, steady and easy, both of you, and then watch as she stands, grinning at an already emotional beatrice. visible below her hair that falls just at her jaw, the newest scar along ava’s neck — from your scalpel, as careful and neat as you could — has faded; is still fading; has healed.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #surgeons au #butch bea 🥺🫡#sorry but everything is fine!!!! fluff coming up in the next few prompts! lmao #if there's one thing abt ava tho she WILL make a joke at any time!#i’m an english major idk what’s wrong w ava but who cares this isn’t the new england journal of medicine

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piratekane · 2 years ago

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fic: love thy neighbor

chapter title: crawl inside, wait by the light of the moon note: Another day, another AU - but this time make it collaborative! A dual effort by @kendrene and I to bring you some 'new neighbor AU' goodness and we are stoked about it.

The third time she hears someone curse loud enough to be heard through the walls, Beatrice gives up on the book she’s reading. It wasn’t very engaging to begin with, but she was going to give it considerable effort as it was the only book Lilith would even entertain for this month’s book club.

A voice not unlike Mary’s whispers that she can find the summary online and Lilith will be none the wiser. But she ignores that voice. She’ll just… try again. At another time. When whoever has moved into the apartment next to hers isn’t educating her on curses in… she thinks she recognized the Portuguese word for shit, but her rudimentary Portuguese greetings were reserved for her parents’ counterparts from Brazil and they certainly never used that kind of language with her.

The person - a woman, she assumes - swears again. Beatrice makes a face. Her last neighbor had been quiet, even in his death. She hadn’t noticed he was deceased until she knocked politely at his door to return his mail. And even then, the whole affair had been quick, neat, and silent.

This woman is none of those things, based on the fact that Beatrice has been dealing with this racket for what seems like hours and the various, numerous boxes spilling out into the hallway that start in front of Beatrice’s door and continue right into the next apartment. Some of them are open and most have large letters scribbled on them in marker, but no matter how she turns her head, Beatrice can’t make out any of the words.

“Hello?” she calls into the hallway, one foot still solidly in her own apartment. it’s never seemed so cramped here before now. “Excuse me?”

Something heavy and metallic drops and then there’s another curse - definitely merda this time - and the sound of something hopping in her direction. Beatrice pulls back, nearly ducking into her apartment and closing the door quickly, but before she can, a woman appears in the hallway, holding one foot in her hand as she balances precariously on the other.

“Oh. Wow.”

Beatrice frowns. “I’m sorry?”

The woman smiles crookedly. “I said, oh. Ow.”

No you didn’t, Beatrice wants to argue. But she doesn’t even know this woman. She looks young, hair cut to her chin and half pulled back, a cutoff shirt hanging off her frame and just above her navel. Her frown deepens. The woman looks hardly older than a university student. And Beatrice already lived through university-aged girls before; she has no intention of doing it again.

No, this won’t do.

She thinks about the diplomatic approach: introduce herself, how long she’s been living here, slip in a comment or two about the decorum of the third floor that she’s purposefully cultivated by surrounding herself with retirees. Her parents would approve of that. But the woman is still smiling, head tipped in curiosity now, and she’s waiting expectantly for Beatrice to say something.

Can you keep it down? Beatrice is sure those are the words she settles on saying, once the thought process behind them completes. While it would work best to be polite, the banging and the cursing did go on for some time. And, judging from the number of unopened boxes still awaiting in the hall, there may be a whole sleepless night of noise ahead. Unless Beatrice puts her foot down. Like, now.

“You look like you could use a hand,” is what comes out of her mouth instead, the moment the new girl’s fingers grip firm around her own. Her hand. Beatrice has never been more conscious of the tiny, bird-fragile bones moving within it, the play of sinew under her skin. The thunder of her pulse trapped against a palm that’s warm, but not sweaty. Calloused but not rough.

“Boy, could I!” Her new neighbor pumps their joined hands up and down, and it’s a miracle she manages to do so while remaining upright. Her other hand is still clutching her foot - the crash Beatrice heard tied to that, clearly - so she’s balanced on one leg, precarious, like some weird, noisy bird.

Although, what she really reminds Beatrice of, is an overenthusiastic dog.

“Guess I should give you your hand back before I can use it, uh?” Heat scalds Beatrice’s chest, spilling past her collar. She clears her throat, staring at the space between them. New girl is indeed still gripping her hand. Beatrice slowly lets go.

“It might speed things along, yes.”

New girl steps back with a grin, both feet back on the ground, and points at a pile of boxes. “Wanna start with those?’ Of course she picked the furthest stack from her door.

“Sure,” Beatrice grabs one of the boxes at random, balances another on top. Finally, with her nose practically merged to the cardboard, she can spell out a word. It reads: rocks.

Odd.

Much later that night, the evening sky an indigo smudge framed by the bars of the fire escape outside her window, Beatrice is in bed and cannot fall asleep. It’s not that there’s noise. Ava - that’s new neighbor’s name - has pinky-promised she would tone it down, and to her credit she’s managed.

Beatrice can hear her at times, the natural order of things in a building where walls are no thicker than wet wipes. It’s neighborly sounds: the shower running, a TV turned on low. The snatch of a song hummed tragically off tune.

They’re different sounds, is the thing. Sounds she’s not had time to grow used to. Old Mr. Whittaker - Witkins? - he didn’t sing. He rarely even used his TV. How he moved around the apartment had been different, too. Beatrice can’t be 100% sure, but she’s pretty certain Ava actually skips from room to room.

A version of Call Me Maybe so mangled it barely resembles the original tune reaches her ears, and Beatrice is tempted to go close the window. She likes letting the late spring breeze in, though, that it smells of green things in bloom and summer to come. Plus, the fire escape is only accessible to tenants, locked on ground level behind a gate that opens with a code, so the whole arrangement is really quite secure.

Eventually the off-key singing stops. All sounds of traffic die. Beatrice falls gradually asleep, but the weight on her chest - the sense of unease that comes with having her routine so thoroughly disrupted - doesn’t lessen at all.

A weight on her chest wakes her, struggling to breathe, in the dead of the night.

“Vince.” A voice she’s become painfully familiar with, whisper-hisses right outside the window. “Vincent, come the fuck out of there, now.”

Meow.

Beatrice freezes, immobilized. Every muscle group tenses in a methodical, frequently-practiced manner, starting with her toes up into the joints of her knees and into her hips. They’re tight, coiled, ready to jump at this sudden intrusion and disengage with this attacker.

But her training fails her as the weight on her chest shifts and slides. She inhales, air like ice in her lungs, as something pin-sharp digs into her bare collarbone.

In the dark, it takes her an excruciatingly long moment to put an image to the sensation on her chest as her eyes adjust to the sliver of moonlight coming in through the window.

The open window.

Where Ava, the woman who seems to be entirely made of catastrophes, is trying to wiggle under the frame, one hand outstretched as she hisses, her own voice cat-like.

The cat on her chest merely shuffles closer to the hollow of her throat as pointed claws sink further into her skin. They’ll leave a mark. Thick, soft fur sticks to her bottom lip and she strains her head backward so she doesn’t accidentally breathe it in. It seems to only invite the cat closer as it slides, boneless, into the space she creates.

“Excuse me,” she says quietly into the cat’s fur.

It purrs loudly, an odd sensation against her breastbone, not entirely unpleasant.

“Vincent,” Ava hisses again. “I’ll send you back, don’t think I won’t.” Something rattles, the point of a knee against glass, and Ava makes a pained noise in the back of her throat.

“I’m- shit.” There’s a loud shuffling noise and a deep groan as shadows dance across her bedroom wall and create a large, crouched and pointed shape.

Beatrice turns her head as Ava crawls in through the window, body contorting in a way that it shouldn’t. There’s a low hiss, a slight growl. Ava wiggles through the opening, landing on her hands, her legs suspended outside above the fire escape for a moment before they slip in after the rest of her body as she collapses into a heap on the floor.

Beatrice feels the floor shake as Ava lands hard on top of it. The cat - Vincent - doesn’t seem bothered by the noise, purring loudly and nosing his way into the curve of her neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Ava whispers, voice strained. “Oh my God, Vincent.” The backs of her knuckles dig into Beatrice’s skin as she wiggles her way under Vincent.

That sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant either, but Beatrice doesn’t linger on that, all of her attention on the way Vincent’s claws dig into her skin and hold on. He yowls, scrambling out of Ava’s arms and darting away in the darkness.

Air rushes back into Beatrice’s lungs. She blinks at the ceiling until she looks back down at her chest. Ava is staring at her hands, still over Beatrice’s sternum, face pinched in thought.

“Excuse me,” she says again.

Ava, unlike Vincent, startles and takes a staggering step backwards. She trips over Beatrice’s slippers, placed parallel to her bed, and falls. The floor shakes again.

"Are you okay?"

For the second time in the span of a few short hours, Beatrice ends up saying something she immediately regrets. She should be angry. She’s furious. She’s -

Ava sits up, peeking over the edge of the bed, and refracted moonlight falls across her face. It casts a silvery aura around her, a nimbus, a halo. Her forehead is still scrunched up, in pain perhaps, but when she notices that Beatrice is staring, her expression changes.

“Is it too late to say I’m sorry again?” Ava offers a sheepish grin, a small shrug.

“It’s too late.” Ava winces, and because a sensation close to the kind of regret one might feel after scolding a child spears through a part of Beatrice she wasn’t aware existed, she hastens to add. “Timewise. It’s - what time is it, actually?” The cold, clipped tones of her initial reaction had made her sound too much like her mother.

“Uhm.” Ava’s eyes flick to the digital clock on the nightstand. “You don’t wanna know.”

Beatrice sighs. Then sneezes.

“Oh, shit, are you allergic?”

“I don’t know.” Another sneeze. “I never had a cat climb on me before.”

“Yeah.” Ava shifts to her knees. “About that.”

“You’re sorry?”

“He’s new.”

“Like you?” A thud, followed by the roll of something heavy across the kitchen’s floor, prevents Ava from replying. She just peers through the open door of Beatrice’s bedroom, mouth open, eyes wide. A second louder thud reverberates through the apartment. The distinctly metallic sound of tin cans dropping on tile.

“I think Vincent got into your cupboards. We should probably -” Beatrice is already out of bed, flicking lights on as she goes. “ - get him.” Ava scrambles in her wake.

In the kitchen they waste a good half hour and two cans of premium Albacore tuna trying to coax Vincent out from the cabinet under the sink.

“It’s not his fault, really.” Ava tells her, somewhat muffled, while she twists her upper-body around spare bottles of dish soap and stove detergent. She’s got a knack for wiggling into tight spots, Beatrice thinks, crouched behind her with a flashlight. Hopefully, Ava’s head is wedged so far up the crawl space beneath the sink she cannot hear the sharp intake of air subsequent to that thought.

Beatrice runs a hand through her bed-tousled hair and vows to never let her mind wander in that direction again.

“Right.”

“I mean it!” Hiss. “I got him from the shelter. Poor Vince, was all alone.”

“I am starting to see why.”

“You don’t understand.” Ava shimmies back, emerging from the bowels of the cabinet with a scratch on her cheek but absent a cat. “They wanted to put him down.” Her bottom lip quakes slightly, and she blinks up at Beatrice rapid-fire, like the idea dislodged a landslide of other memories inside her. “I couldn’t leave him behind.” She scrubs at her cheek, and her fingers come away red. “How much cleaning stuff do you own, anyway?”

“Well, you must use beeswax for wood. And cast iron pots require -” Beatrice’s teeth snap shut around the rest of a tirade Ava probably has no interest in. “It doesn’t matter. You’re bleeding.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Don’t be. Just come here.” Beatrice stands, extending a hand and hauling Ava to her feet. “Wash your face in the sink. I’ll grab the first aid-kit.”

“But Vincent…”

“He’s safe enough in there. Leave him until after we’ve cleaned this.”

She takes a moment longer with the first-aid kit than she needs to, poking around the cabinet it’s logically stored in like she hasn’t recently restocked the one bandage she’s used in the last month. Ava is none the wiser, standing at the sink and staring at the dark gray microfiber hand towel Beatrice keeps next to it, lost in thought.

Beatrice takes a moment to drink in the sight of Ava.

Her head is bowed, the overhead light sliding across her shoulders, bare except for the thin strip of fabric that holds her tank top in place. For a moment, she looks as if some otherworldly light is emanating from her, brightening her apartment in a way Beatrice has never seen before.

Ava bends over the sink, turning on the tap with a flick of her wrist. She cups her hands, lets the water pool in white palms, and brings it to her face slowly. It runs off her cheeks in rivulets, beads of cool water sliding down her neck and gathering in the hollow of her throat.

Beatrice’s own throat goes traitorously dry, air locking tight in her lungs. A gauze pad wrinkles in her hand, the plastic loud in this vacuum she feels stuck in.

Ava turns her head and Beatrice can’t hide her sudden inhale behind a bottle of dish detergent this time.

“I found it.” Her voice feels unknown, like she’s just forming her mouth around the words correctly for the first time. She holds up the gauze in one hand, a small tube of antibiotic in the other. “Sit.”

Ava presses her face into the towel and Beatrice files a thought away for later. She holds it up; Beatrice shakes her head and Ava drops it next to the sink. Her slide into the chair is with a grace that rivals her rather abrupt entry into Beatrice’s bedroom.

She rises above Ava like a dark tower, eclipsing the sun. Her fingers curl under Ava’s chin, lifting gently. Their eyes meet briefly, Ava’s a honey gold and brown, before she focuses on the thin scratch across her cheek. She turns Ava’s head, studying it carefully.

“It won’t scar.”

Ava lets out a thin stream of air Beatrice feels against the back of her hand. “Thank God for that. It’s my primary moneymaker.” She smiles at the blank look in return. “I work at the university. The… the rocks? Nothing?”

Beatrice frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. What do… rocks have to do with your face?”

“I’m the one who does the fundraising. People don’t like to pay for-” She grins a little, voice pitched low as she mimics the way Beatrice said, “rocks.” Her voice returns to its natural register. “Unless there’s a pretty face selling it to them. And my department is made up of men who found the first rock, so they won’t do”

For a brief moment, she wonders if making a charitable donation to the Geology department at the local university might get her anything in return.

“So, do you teach about rocks, too?” Beatrice asks to distract herself while needlessly re-arranging the contents of the first aid kit she’s already set down on the table in a line. Gauze pads, Neosporin, the box of kids’ bandaids she was forced to get the last time she’d been to the pharmacy, as they’d run out of anything else. It’s a rather minor scratch to take care of. Beatrice really doesn’t need to triple-check what she’s just double-checked in her head.

She’s stalling.

“Uh-uh.” Ava slouches a little in the chair, legs stretching out in front of her. “A few. Mostly introductory courses. I like that I get students to really think about what’s under their feet. About what dirt and rocks are made of, how they’re formed.”

Beatrice blinks down at her hands, hovering inches from the piece of sterile gauze she meant to daub disinfectant on. She’s hung on the tone of Ava’s voice, talking about her job. There’s a subterranean current to it, a note that invites Beatrice in deep. Joy. Awe. For an adult to retain this level of wonder, it’s a rare thing. Like a vein of precious mineral, wrought from the underbelly of the earth out into the light.

“What about you?” Ava is asking. Beatrice blinks to find that her hands knew what to do on their own. Ava’s chin is again trapped in the cage of her fingers, and Beatrice can feel her jaw moving, pressing into the palm of her hand when she talks. She tries hard not to think of the way Ava’s breath paints feather-soft strokes on her skin. Of the curve of Ava’s cheek that for some reason she aches to explore.

“Do you play doctor often?” There is a teasing lilt to Ava’s voice, a crinkle around her mouth. It is a joke.

“Only when my neighbors sneak through my bedroom’s window at night.”

“Yeah, not my best moment, I’ll admit.”

“You could say,” Beatrice dabs disinfectant over the scratch, inwardly wincing in sympathy at Ava’s slight flinch. “That we got off on a rocky start.”

“Oh, wow.” This time, there’s no doubt, not that there was any the first. Beatrice heard right. “I think I might be in love.”

The tub of Neosporin she’s been squeezing cream out of goes flying, skidding to a halt by the cabinet where Vincent is still hiding. Intrigued, the cat hops outside and circles it, sniffing.

“Oh, no.” Beatrice feels horrible for overreacting. Ava certainly didn’t mean anything, She couldn’t have been. It wasn’t an attempt to flirt. “If he licks that he’s gonna be sick.”

“Vince, I told you the five second rule doesn’t always apply.” As soon as Ava stands, Vincent makes himself big with a hiss. “Fine, get sick then. See if I care.” A slight tremor puts chink sin her tone. It’s clear that she does.

“Let me try and get it away from him.” Beatrice suggests. She doesn’t particularly care for a scratch or a bite, but the mess is her fault in the first place. She should be the one to fix it. “If I can just—”

Crouching low, never breaking eye contact with Vince, Beatrice extends a hand slowly. Her fingers brush against the tub of cream. Tighten around it. She’s beginning to pull her arm back when Vincent headbutts it, a purr vibrating out of him.

“Oh, he really does like you, doesn’t he?” Ava says behind her. “Then again, who wouldn’t?” And Beatrice, who’s always kept her cool in the face of unexpected market crashes, almost loses it all over again.

“I’ve never had any- “She’s going to say positive but she thinks twice. “I’ve never had any interactions with cats before.” She’s still crouched, hand extended as Vincent rubs up against her arm. “He’s very… soft.”

“You don’t feel itchy or anything, do you?”

Beatrice looks back over her shoulder, mouth pinched in a frown. Ava looks intent, more serious than she has in the hours Beatrice has known her.

“Or your throat closing, or anything? I’m not a doctor but I watched a guy have an allergic reaction to shrimp once. I didn’t know what to do then and I’ll be honest, I haven’t brushed up on anything since then.”

Beatrice feels a flicker deep in her chest, a sort of affection she didn’t know was possible in such a short amount of time. “If I was going to have an anaphylaxis allergy to cats, we would have known when he was sitting on my chest.” She slowly retracts her arm and Vincent simply moves along with her, winding around her legs instead.

“He, uh, really likes you,” Ava says. There’s a bit of a pout in her voice, mirrored in the shape of her mouth. “He doesn’t like me that much.”

Beatrice tries to remember where she was with the Neosporin. Ah, yes. She continues to squeeze it out onto the gauze. She’ll apply a bit to the wound, then put a bandage on it. She’s successful this time, hands firm around the tub. Of course, Ava doesn’t say anything to distract her.

“Surely he liked you at the shelter.” She tips Ava’s chin back again. She has mesmerizing eyes this close up. Like circles of golden honey. Her cheeks flush.

“Well, not really,” Ava admits in halting words. Beatrice’s hand slips from her chin and Ava grabs it, holding it against her skin.

Beatrice’s fingers nearly go slack again at the sensation. She prides herself on her ability to maintain herself, though no one would believe her if they saw her now. Ava’s words register. “No?”

“Nope.” Ava’s mouth pops the p. “But he was there, being passed over for kittens. I couldn’t just leave him.” Her voice is trembling again and Beatrice wants to go in and find the source of it, to make it stop. It affects her in a way she can’t quite describe.

It’s unlike her. Everything since she’s met Ava has been unlike her.

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” she says quietly. She feels him against her legs, moving between them and Ava’s. She’s suddenly aware of how she’s positioned herself, standing between Ava’s legs. The inside of Ava’s knee is hot against her leg through her thin pajama pants.

“Or we’ll have to split custody.” Ava smiles. Beatrice feels it in her hand, still trapped against Ava’s chin. “We’d be tied for life.”

Beatrice’s chest shudders at the thought. It sounds terrifying and appealing. She’s unsure of where this is coming from - she’s known Ava Silva for less than 24 hours and the majority of their time together has been one disaster to the next. But there’s something intriguing about her, like she’s made up a complicated number system Beatrice wants to take apart and turn around in her mind.

She files the thought away to be revisited later. Later, once Ava is back at her own place. Later after she’s latched the bedroom window shut and put a little distance between herself and a night that somehow feels like a dream.

“I’m sorry for the kids’ band aid.” Beatrice applies it over the cut with care, again taking a moment longer than is necessary with things to smooth it across Ava’s cheek and make sure that it’ll stick. Yellow ducklings swim on it, the band aid’s background vibrant blue.

“Regular band aids are boring.” Ava doesn’t try to stop her from retreating this time around, and another small shiver ripples through her. It feels like something of a crack. Like the minuscule hairline fractures that sometimes appear on drinking glasses right before they break. Beatrice doesn’t think she’d have known what to do had Ava leaned into her touch again. Still, a part of her wishes Ava had.

“Uhm, anyway.” She takes a step back and towards the sink, meaning to wash her hands. “I never answered your question about my job.”

Ava’s gaze on her back is as tangible as touch.

“Tell me?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit like adult band aids.” Beatrice clears her throat, forcing more words out. “Boring I mean.”

“I still wanna know.”

“Finance.” Beatrice has no idea why she’s so nervous about it. She’s never felt this on edge about telling someone what her job is before. It may not be the most exciting career one can have, or what she would have picked were there not so many expectations weighing her down, but she’s worked hard for it. The youngest associate at her consultancy firm in more than ten years, with the prospect of rapidly climbing the ranks. She should be proud of it.

She is.

“Numbers uh?” Ava hops off the chair and stretches. The t-shirt she’s wearing rides up, exposing the enticing strip of skin at her navel. Beatrice looks quickly away. “Like Wall Street and stuff?”

“Nothing that grand.” Vincent, who’s kept on following her, paws at her leg and meows. “I try to steer people away from risky investments, mostly.”

“Maybe my department should hire you.” Ava begins creeping forward. “Whatever money we get through fundraising is always gone so fast. It’s like the Geology department is built on a sinkhole that eats cash.”

Finally within striking distance of the cat, Ava lunges. Her fingers close around his scruff, and she lifts him up, firm but trying not to hurt him. “Ah! Gotcha!”

Vincent’s meowing reaches ear-splitting on the decibel scale. His front paws extend in Beatrice’s direction. She gently scritches the top of his head, and that seems to calm him enough for Ava to get a better hold.

“Do you want me to—” Beatrice says, when Vincent digs sharp claws into the bare skin of Ava’s forearm.

“Maybe you could—”

They pause, the cat suspended between them, then Beatrice extends her arms and Vincent leaps straight into them, nuzzling into her chest. She gets the impression Ava might want to join, too.

“Maybe I can bring him to your apartment for you?"

"Would you? I feel horrible asking but he's—" Ava's mouth sours. "Yeah."

"I don't mind, promise." So what if she's a bit sad at the prospect of Ava leaving? It's not like Vince is gonna sneak into her apartment every single night. She can be sad. It means nothing. It's fine. "Lead the way?"

"Okay, but we have to go the long way round." Ava nods at the door to the bedroom and Beatrice's heart skips several beats. "I don't have my keys."

Oh.

God.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #another day another AU #this is gen-u-ine fluff #i hope if you read it you enjoy it #because we had fun writing it #and... BREAK!

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jtl07 · 27 days ago

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Happy Holidays JT! Im not sure if you write sequels (or kinda sequels) to your prompts, but your fic with genderfluid!Ava was too cute. So I would love Avatrice with genderfluid!Ava with the word prompt: "Snowman".

hey anon nice to see you again! happy to revisit genderfluid!Ava tho i must admit that this came out light on actual gender stuff because i was giggling too much as the first thing that came to my head was the below first line. hope this is alright!

“What big balls you have!”

Beatrice rolls her eyes as Ava continues to pack the snowman - snowperson? Ava had pondered aloud, snow-bro, gender neutral? - with snow and clothes and various decorations, giggling all the while with the halo’s glow peeking out from their jacket. The street is empty though and there’s more than enough Christmas lights decorating their house and front porch that they can explain it away.

“Why yes indeed, that’s a carrot in my pocket. But I’m also very happy to see you.”

“Should I be concerned?” Beatrice calls out from where she’s working on her own sculpture, raises an eyebrow at Ava. “Am I going to have to fight a horde of snow-bros for your honor?”

Ava giggles as they finish affixing the carrot. “I dunno, that sounds pretty fun. Maybe we could set up a whole scene and invite Camila over for target practice or something.”

Beatrice smiles and shakes her head, not disagreeing, just wholly fond. “Anything you want, darling,” she says, wrapping her arms around Ava when they hop over and lean back into Beatrice.

The halo is warm against Beatrice’s chest and while the fingers Ava slips into the edges of Beatrice’s gloves are freezing cold, Beatrice doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Instead, she embraces it all, holds them tight, wraps them all in joy and gratitude, just as Ava has taught her to do.

#writing shenanigans with jt #avatrice #just a bit of (snowy) fluff

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alms4oblivion · 1 month ago

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the bane of my existence is complete. Chapter 9 of my Avatrice Bridgerton AU is out!

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #fanfiction #fanfic #warrior nun fanfic #the bane of my existence #bridgerton au #regency romance #this last chapter is just #fluff and smut #with a happy ending #alms fics

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sunshinesickies · 5 months ago

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Warrior Nun Ava x Beatrice Sickfic

Could We Be More?

(Set during their time in the Alps aka when they’re both actually happy)

“Uh…boss?” A deep voice comes from behind Beatrice. Setting down her pencil, she looks up at him from where she sits, prompting him to continue with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

“Ava has a shift today, right?” Hans questions and Bea feels her heart skip a beat at the mere mention of Ava’s name, though her expression remains neutral. No such signs of her sudden emotions. “Yes…” She glances at her watch, “her shift started 30 minutes ago.” She informs, looking back to the Swiss bartender, her heart rate beginning to rise.

His hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “That’s the thing, well, I know you don’t like to reprimand her when she’s late but um, well, she’s still not here.” He ends with a nod, saying what he needed and swiftly turning on his heels, heading back down to the bar, leaving Beatrice’s heart pounding. Ava was never this late. She’d been so caught up in counting inventory that she hadn’t noticed the younger woman hasn’t shown up yet. How could she possibly lose track of her? It was her job to keep the Warrior Nun safe.

W-what if…no. No what ifs. Not until necessary, Bea thinks. Taking out her phone, she calls Ava, once, twice…three times, going to voicemail each time. Okay, maybe now she can worry. Immediately she shoves her things into her bag and rushes downstairs.

“Hans, you good by yourself today? I’ll double your pay and you can have all the tips from tonight.” Beatrice offers, having no doubt he can handle the bar alone, but feeling bad leaving him to do everything.

He simply nods. “Sure. Thanks boss. Did you contact Ava? Is she alright?” He anxiously asks about his friend. The young woman always seems to bring a sense of light and joy wherever she goes and her absence so far is definitely starting to be noticed by the bar’s regulars.

Beatrice lets out a sigh. “Thanks, Hans. You’re the best. And no, I’m going to look for her now.” With that, Bea rushes outside and runs practically the whole way back to the small, old apartment she’s been sharing with Ava. She actually does run the whole way up the three floors of stairs to get to their door. Stopping a moment to catch her breath, Bea then quickly enters, her bag being thrown on the kitchen table as her wide eyes scan the small apartment.

There’s no evidence that Ava’s still there. Nothing misplaced, no dishes in the sink. It was easy to see that she wasn’t in the adjoining living room or dining area. That leaves the bedroom. Bea is across the room in seconds, pausing outside Ava’s closed door and giving a gentle knock.She lets herself in when there’s no response. Squinting her eyes in the sudden darkness of the room, her eyes quickly adjust and easily make out an Ava-sized lump in the bed.

Beatrice’s whole body relaxes as she lets out the breath she’d been holding. The sight of seeing the sleeping Halo Barer, safe and sound brought her emotions back to normal. Swiftly and silently, she crosses the room and Ava’s face domes into view as she stands by the side of the bed. The younger woman is still asleep, which Bea finds odd. She knows Ava loves to sleep in occasionally but so far, during their life here in the Alps, she hasn’t missed work once.

Though, Bea thinks, she did seem abnormally tired last night. She’d skipped dinner and immediately gone to bed the second they’d gotten home, something Bea should have caught on to let her know something was off. Bea knows Ava’s been pushing herself during training and working extra hard at the bar, but the dirty-blonde always seems to have an unlimited supply of energy, always enjoying it all.

Bea watches the gentle rise and fall of Ava’s breath, looking so peaceful as she sleeps. All relaxed and adorable, curled up cozily in the blanket. Beatrice has to stop herself from reaching out to touch Ava’s face. She longs to graze her fingertips along the skin which she knows will be soft as silk.

Turning around, Bea has to tear her eyes away from Ava in order to keep control. But as she starts to walk away, leaving her to her obviously much needed rest, a small sounds stops Bea in her tracks. She turns back to see Ava’s eyes scrunch tighter, the rhythm of her breaths changing as her face twists into a distressed frown and her brows furrow slightly. The older woman immediately knows what’s going on and her suspicions are confirmed a moment later when Ava lets out a few more whimpers and starts tossing around, twisting herself deeper into the blankets as she continues to sleep.

She is having a nightmare. Bea knows them all too well. Many a night she would either wake up to a still dreaming Ava who thrashed around or a shaking Ava who had been startled awake by her night terrors. Each and every time, Beatrice is there to comfort her and it always works. Bea has learned that if she holds the Halo Barer tight and whispers soft reassurances in her ear, Ava always calms down in moments and is usually back to sleep not long after.

Reaching out a hand to gently cup her face, Bea lets her fingers graze along her cheek before ending up tangling them in the other girl’s soft, sandy brown hair. Her fingers gently scratch against her scalp in a soothing way that Ava must recognizes even in her sleep because she stops moving, quiets down and is breathing normally not even a minute later.

However, as Ava starts to relax, Beatrice’s worry only increases. The second she had touched her hand to Ava’s cheek, she’d noticed a strong heat radiating off her skin and when she felt her hair, it was slightly damp from sweat. Now Bea also notices the small beads of sweat that drip from Ava’s temples and the harsh pink blush that paints her cheeks behind her paler than normal skin.

Moving her hand to her forehead, Bea confirms that Ava is sporting a rather large fever. Everything clicks into place now and Bea sighs. She’s sick. “What am I going to do with you, Ava?” Bea speaks barely above a whisper as she gently slides her hand back down to Ava’s cheek, her fingertips as delicate as a butterfly’s touch.

It’s a useless question. Bea knows exactly what she’s going to do, she’s good at this sort of stuff. She’s going to take care of Ava to the best of her abilities. With yet another sigh, a thought bubbles in her mind. She should have known this was a possibility. While The Order doesn’t know everything about the Halo, they know it grants the barer extraordinary abilities, the ability to heal and come back from the dead. But since whatever bug Ava has isn’t life threatening, the Halo must not be doing much to ward off the sickness.

Silently, Bea carefully takes her finger from Ava’s face and walks to the door, but Ava, who must be sensing the lack of her presence, makes Bea stop in her tacks for the second time when she hears a small groan from behind her. “bea?” Ava’s voice is a raspy whisper that makes her throat catch, sending her into a small coughing fit. In the blink of an eye, Bea is by her side, her hand rubbing the girl’s back as the fit forces her into a sitting position.

“Shhh, you’re okay, breathe for me, Ava.” Beatrice takes slow, deep breaths, gently urging Ava to follow suit and soon the fit fades away. Bea holds Ava tight as she slumps against her strong body. Ava tries to murmuring something but with her dry throat and strong fever, it comes out as a raspy mix of slurred words that Bea can’t make out.

“What was that, darling?” Bea finds herself saying before she can stop herself from using the pet name, which fall from her lips so naturally, as if she’d been calling her that for years and not for the first time ever. Ava doesn’t seem to notice or react in anyway and Bea wonders if the feverish girl even hear her at all, but then Ava shifts slightly against her chest, her lips parting. “Can I have some water, please?” She whispers in a strained rasp that makes Bea wince ever so slightly at how painful it sounds. “Of course.” She speaks softly back, making quick work of untangling herself from Ava’s heavy limps and moving her so that she’s lying gently back against the pillows.

“I’ll be just a moment.” She promises, her fingers brushing a small, damp strand of hair from Ava’s face before walking to the apartment’s adjoining kitchen. Bea glances at Ava and sees her watching her, though her eyes flutter, fighting to stay open. Bea makes sure to stay in her view as she gathers a glass of water, some medicine and a cool damp cloth.

Ava watches Bea, never taking her eyes off her though it was getting harder and harder to keep them open. She’s not sure what’s going on or why she feels like this. Like she’d gotten super drunk then hit by a bus and punched into a wall. Ava tries to sit up a little straighter as Bea walks back over. She can see the worry on the older girl’s face. Ava hates that look. She hates to worry people. Hates being a burden. So she flails against the pillows for a moment, trying to get her clumsy limbs to cooperate until she’s sitting up a little more than before. Her chest feels heavy as she breathes and she’s surprised at how little energy she has after such a small movement.

As Bea approaches the small twin bed, she places a small tray on the side table, carefully holding a cup of water out to Ava. Ava mentally wills her arms to work as she reaches for the glass but Bea shakes her head, gently lowering Ava’s hands back down to her lap before bringing the glass to her dry lips. Ava takes a few slow sips, the cool water momentarily dulling the dry ache in her throat. She closes her eyes as she takes a few more and for a moment she thinks she should feel like she’s back at St. Michael’s, being bitterly taken care of by the old nuns, but she doesn’t. She wonders why the familiar action isn’t stirring up her trauma, until she opens her eyes again and meets the soft, caring gaze of Beatrice.

Beatrice. That’s the difference. Ava has never felt uncomfortable in her best friend’s presence nor has she ever felt like a burden to the quiet girl who seems to be a natural at taking are of her in a numerous amount of ways.

Ava pouts when Bea lifts the glass away from her lips and if she’d been more aware, she might have noticed the small flicker of a smile appearing and disappearing in the corner of Bea’s lips. “You have to take it slow, okay, Ava?” She sees Bea’s lips move but doesn’t quite register her words so she just nods slightly, willing to trust anything and everything that Bea has to offer. She really hasn’t known Beatrice all that long, but she’s the best friend Ava has ever had and she knows without a doubt that she would follow Bea to the end of the Earth if she’d ask her to. Ava feels her eyelids grown heavier, each passing second proving harder and harder to keep them open.

“No no, Ava wait.” She faintly registers someone’s soft voice say her name and she forces her eyes open to see a blurry Bea in front of her. Ava offers a small and her head droops slightly but she feels gentle fingers tilt it back up. “Just a moment, Ava. Then I promise you can sleep, okay?” Bea’s accented voice cuts through her foggy brain. She nods weakly, blinking fast to try and un-blurr her vision.

“Swallow this please.” Bea speaks and Ava opens her mouth, feeling Bea place a small pill on her tongue and for a second, panic swells inside her, her eyes widening, but her friend is quick to calm her. “It’s alright, Ava. I promise it’s only going to help you feel better, to help with that fever of yours.” Beatrice hums sincerely with a nod then holds the water back t Ava’s lips. “Good girl.” Bea praises when she drinks and swallows, coughing slightly as the pill feels like a rick in her tight throat. “Just rest now, Ava. Your body needs sleep.” Ava nods, her eyes already closing as she shifts to lay back down.

“Wait, Bea?” Ava mumbles, not sure what the other woman’s plan was, but hoping it doesn’t involve leaving. “Yes, Ava?” She sighs in relief when she hears Bea’s soft answer. “Wi-will you stay with me?” She pleads and immediately feels the bed dip as Bea sits down near her feet.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere, Ava. I promise.” Bea’s words are enough for Ava to finally relax completely and she no sooner feels something soft and cool being set gently to her forehead. It feels so good against her hot skin. But as much as her body yearns for sleep, there’s something missing, something off, keeping her awake.

After a few minutes, Beatrice can tell she hasn’t fallen asleep yet and for a moment, she isn’t sure what to do before her desire gets the best of her and she place’s her hand gently to Ava’s flushed cheek, her thumb once more grazing along her fevered skin. “Is there anything else you need?” She hums quietly as to not startle the sleepy woman. Ava is silent for a minute and Bea almost thinks she’s fallen asleep after all but then she speaks, her voice tired, slurred and maybe even a little shy.

“Will you hold me?” Ava whispers and Bea’s breath hitches slightly at her request, her heart beating a bit faster as Ava’s hand reaches out to find her own. “Please?” She adds and Be mentally kicks herself for taking too long to answer and making Ava think she wouldn’t. Of course she would. She would do anything for the woman laying in front of her. Bea smiles at Ava who looks up at her with such pleading that it breaks her heart. She nods. “Of course, Ava.” She immediately moves to get into bed next to the now contented Halo Barer. Ava’s face visibly lights up when Bea does so.

The nun pulls the blanket around them, tucking it cozily around Ava as the exhausted woman lets out a happy sigh and leans into the warmth of her friend’s comforting arms. Her head rests atop her chest and she closes her eyes. Bea’s impossibly delicate fingers start to soothingly massage her head and as awful as Ava feels, she decides right here and now that there’s no where else she’d rather be than with Bea and her kind, gentle, loving touch that she’d been void of her while life brings her an immeasurable amount of peace.

As she drifts off to sleep, a faint thought settles it’s way into her head, whether it was in a dream or not she didn’t know, but she wonders if this could possibly be more, if they could ever be more and with that, she feels Bea softly kiss her hair before sleep finally welcomes her body home.

#sunshinesickies #fluff #sickfic #warrior nun #ava silva #avatrice #ava x beatrice

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the-penguinspy · 2 years ago

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avatrice + ineptly kiss cheek

ty for the lovely prompt as always, em :)

Beatrice had just finished putting the grounds in the coffee maker when Ava stumbles out of their bedroom, yawn halfway in effect as she rubs a hand over her face. Her borrowed boxer shorts are slung low over her hips, and her sleep shirt exposes her midriff when she brings her arms overhead in a languid stretch. Beatrice almost (almost!) overfills the water container in the coffee maker, but she catches her blunder in time.

The coffee maker whirs and growls as it heats up the water and starts to drip into the pot, and Beatrice reaches into the cupboards above her for two mugs before she finally feels a pair of arms wrap snug around her waist. Ava’s chin hooks over her shoulder, and the sleepy grumble that accompanies the motion is muffled in the crook of Beatrice’s neck.

Beatrice rests the mugs against the countertop before turning around to greet Ava with a kiss on her forehead, fingers linking around the back of her neck. “Good morning, darling.”

A sigh of contentment as Ava settles more firmly against her. “G’morn’, babe.” She nuzzles Beatrice’s collarbone, presses a soft kiss there. Another one higher up on her neck. She eventually stands on her tiptoes for one more kiss, but her trajectory is flawed – off-course, her aim lands along the curve of Beatrice’s jaw instead.

Beatrice smiles, a corner of her mouth quirked upwards; Ava’s irresistible on the best of days, but in the mornings, she’s just too –

“Cute.” The adoration comes out on an exhale, automatic like breathing. The fact is this: Beatrice takes pride in her discipline and self-control. The act of loving Ava, however, requires neither; hasn’t, not for a long time, and Beatrice chuckles softly before her lips find their place on the apple of Ava’s cheek. She lingers for one moment, two – and in the beat between the second and third, she feels a satisfied hum rumble its way from Ava’s throat.

The aroma of coffee wafts through the living room and saturates the spaces between them, filling in the missing puzzle piece – it’s not really a morning without the promise of fresh caffeine, paired with the lovely, skewed kisses from one delightfully sleepy Ava.

#warrior nun #warrior nun fic #ava silva #sister beatrice #avatrice #shorter one this time...quite liking it :)#gimme that fluffy shit!!! i love fluffy prompts!!! i loved this one sm i banged it out so quick!!!#[does not know how to write anti-fluff]#im learning!!! im focussing on what makes me happy...marie kondo in full effect (ty marie kondo.)#gotta say though these crack sims prompts...they are very funny. lovin the ones in my inbox rn lkjfdslkjsdd #penguin writes #birgittesilverbae

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call-me-maggie13 · 1 year ago

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Diana’s giggle drifts through the kitchen from the dinner table, Rich’s deep voice interrupted by Mary, Shannon, and Beatrice arguing over a board game. Ava knows Beatrice is reading the rule book, she has a certain tone that she only uses when she’s reading directions or rule books. Shannon cries out sharply and the booklet tumbles through the air into the kitchen.

Ava picks it up, sets it on the counter and leans to find Shannon trying to lick Beatrice on the forehead while Mary holds her arms against her sides to prevent her from escaping Shannon’s torment.

"Children, the lot of ‘em." Martha shakes her head fondly, Ava helps her clear the dishes from the table. She takes the place beside Martha over the kitchen sink, drying and stacking the dishes while Martha washes. The quiet is filled with laughter and soft chatter from the next room and something more, something Ava doesn’t have a word to describe but it’s light and it’s warm and it makes her eyes wet and her throat tight.

"Are you okay?" Martha stops scrubbing to search Ava’s eyes.

"Yeah, I’m good. I just - " she shrugs, she doesn’t know the right words. "I keep thinking how lucky Diana is that she gets holidays like this. I didn’t have this growing up and it means a lot that she does."

If she leans just right, she can see Rich teaching Diana how to make shadow puppets with her hands. Diana isn’t following along at all, though Rich is carefully folding her fingers. She catches a glimpse of the back of Beatrice’s head, checking on Diana.

"I’m sorry you didn’t have this as a child, but you have it now. You can’t turn back time and change what you didn’t have before, but don’t let that steal what you have now."

Ava nods and returns to drying the dishes in silence, trying to memorize the way Diana’s laughter blends with Shannon and Beatrice arguing. The ache in her chest builds and builds until she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to breathe around it.

"Ava?" Beatrice is leaning into the kitchen, hanging on the doorframe and grinning. "Did you hear me?"

"No, sorry. I spaced out a bit."

"You don’t have to apologize. I said Mary and Shannon want to know if they can take Diana to look at the Christmas lights? There’s a drive through light show they want to show her."

"Yeah, she’ll love that." Beatrice disappears in a flurry, her voice floating through the open door.

"She loves you." The glass plate slips out of Ava’s hand, falling to the floor and shattering at her feet.

"Fuck, I’m so sorry."

"Are you alright?" Beatrice is beside her before Ava can even stoop to pick up the pieces. "Hey, let me get it, you’re going to cut yourself."

"I’m sorry," Ava repeats and Beatrice frowns and brushes the hair from her face.

"It was an accident, you have nothing to apologize for. What’s important is that you’re not hurt. Come ‘ere." She guides her carefully over the glass shards, kicking a path clear. She checks Ava’s palms for injury, tracing them with her thumbs so tenderly Ava’s heart aches. When Beatrice is satisfied, she smiles and disappears, reappearing with a broom and dustpan. "Hey, why don’t you take a break, I can take over here."

"No, it’s okay. I’m okay." Beatrice looks unsteady.

"Are you certain?" She’s cleared the glass away and closed the distance between them. Her breath is warm on Ava’s face, soft as a butterfly wing. When Ava nods, Beatrice hesitates.

"I’m good, Bea. Promise." Ava could melt into the floor under Beatrice’s steady gaze. Ava tilts into her, thumps heavily into her chest and buries her nose in the crook of her neck. She can feel Beatrice’s smile against the top of her head, hear her steady heart beating in her chest, smell the coconut lotion she uses on top of something so raw and distinctly Beatrice.

Beatrice doesn’t pull away. Beatrice never pulls away, she always waits for Ava, holds her as long as she wants to be held. Beatrice gives as much affection as Ava is willing to take. She’s always there when Ava needs her, even if Ava doesn’t realize it.

Ava’s throat is raw, chest sore and achey like she’s been sick. Perhaps she has. She has no other way to explain away the glaringly obvious truth that she’s in love with her best friend.

She’s never considered the possibility that her best friend loves her back.

"Are you sure you’re alright?" Ava knows she has tears in her eyes, but she is okay.

"Yeah, thank you."

"For what?"

"Just. For being you. Thank you."

"I wouldn’t know how to be anyone else." It’s soft and taunting, but there’s a rawness in her words, a vulnerability no language could ever encapsulate.

She lingers in the doorway until Ava shoos her away with a laugh, turning back to Martha when they’re alone again.

"You… umm… what you said… you - you meant it?"

"I know my daughters, Ava. And that one? She’s head over heels for you. She would give you the moon, if you asked. She loves you and she loves your little girl."

"How… umm… how do you know?" She wishes she didn’t sound so desperate, but she doesn’t want to hide it anymore. She’s overflowing and she doesn’t have anywhere else to hide it. There’s too much inside her, it’s seeping out at the seams. She’s been trying so frantically to ignore it and, when it became impossible to ignore, to stifle it.

She can’t be in love with Beatrice. Beatrice is smart and beautiful and successful, Beatrice is going to change the world. The only thing Ava has ever done right is Diana. The rest of her life is meaningless.

"She’s never brought anyone home before. We always offered, always asked if she wanted to bring anyone, and her answer was always no. She called me in August and asked if you and Diana could spend the holidays with us.

"And she lights up when she sees you or talks about you. Hell, I can even tell when she’s thinking of you because she has this - this look that is reserved for you. Just you."

Martha gives Ava the last dish, hands covered in soapy water and eyes distant.

"When she first came to us, she was in bad shape. She had an emptiness in her that Rich and I worried we’d never be able to fill. Her parents rejected her and threw her out, she had to leave the only home she’d ever known with nothing but the clothes on her back and a backpack of whatever items she’d thought important.

"She got her light back, a little. With some time and some love. Shannon tried so hard to nurture that flame. But she was just a kid, she couldn’t fix everything. She didn’t always know the right words to say or the right things to do. But she did her best, and I think Beatrice knew that. And Rich and I tried, but Beatrice didn’t talk to us. Not like with Shannon. Not like she does now. Even on her best days, we only got glimpses of the girl you see, Ava.

"You make her happy in a way I think she never thought she could be."

"I don’t do anything, though. I’m not special. I’m not - "

"You’re enough, Ava." Martha wipes her wet hands on a dish towel before taking Ava by the shoulders, her palms are still damp but Ava doesn’t mind. "She doesn’t care about whatever you think you need to be worthy of her. She chose you. She chose you and she chose Diana and she’s not going to walk away from that. Beatrice is a very deliberate person, she is careful and conscious of every decision she makes. She guards her heart with everything she has. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

Ava shakes her head, her chest tingles and her head spins and she has to brace herself against the counter because she’s scared she will fall over.

"She gave you her heart, Ava. The little girl who never believed in love pulled her heart from her chest and gave it to you in a box tied up with a ribbon. She went against everything she believed and gave you herself in every way you will take her. Over and over again, she has chosen you. She has given you herself time and time and time again. She won’t give that up, not ever.

"Rich wants me to give you his usual if you hurt my daughter, you’ll regret it macho man routine but I don’t think you will. I think you’ll protect her heart as fiercely as your own. I trust you with my baby’s heart. And I really hope you do too."

Ava doesn’t have a response. What can someone say to that? No words will ever be enough to express the exhilarating terror that Martha’s words filled her with. Her bones are buzzing and her skin is tingling and her head is spinning and she wants to go to Beatrice.

Martha gives her a polite smile before excusing herself. Beatrice comes looking for Ava when she doesn’t follow. Ava is staring blankly at the countertop, palms pressing her shoulders to her ringing ears.

"Hey." Beatrice tucks the hair behind her ear, tracing the line of her neck to her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Is this real? Are you real?"

"I believe so." Beatrice steps closer, twists a lock of Ava’s hair around her finger. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I’m good. I’m - I don’t know. I’m so happy, I’m exhausted. If that makes sense."

"Do you want to go to sleep? I can text Shannon to see if they’re okay keeping Diana tonight and we can go to bed, if you’d like?"

"Can you just…" Ava sighs, she doesn’t know the words she’s looking for. "Can you just be here right now? We can do that in a minute, I just want to be here with you for a bit." Beatrice nods and brushes a kiss against Ava’s temple when she curls around Beatrice.

Read more beneath the break or here!

Ava wakes to the sound of laughter drifting through the crack in the door. She’s alone in bed, but Beatrice’s side is still warm. She ignores the sharp pang in her chest, presses her palm into the indention where Beatrice had slept beside her.

There’s a picture frame on the bedside table, one Ava is certain wasn’t there when they first arrived. The frame is uneven, sloppily colored marker on cheap wood, covered in cartoon animal stickers. It screams Diana.

"Oh, you’re awake."

"Mornin’." Beatrice crawls back into bed with her, presses a kiss against the top of her head when Ava cuddles into her.

"I wanted to be here when you woke, sorry."

"You’re here now." Ava rolls onto her, settles when she’s almost entirely on Beatrice. She’s rewarded with a chuckle and back scratches.

She had every intention of staying awake, but when she wakes the second time, the sun is bright in the window and Beatrice is asleep under her. She starts to pull away, only Beatrice squeezes her tighter and whines.

Ava’s been stuck in worse places.

Ava doesn’t save movie ticket stubs or press flowers between books to save them forever, she’s never wished she could freeze time to preserve a moment just a little longer. She's never been sentimental in that way.

Not until Beatrice.

She finds herself wishing she could barter with Father Time to give her just twenty more seconds with Beatrice every day, just twenty seconds more of her warmth and serenity. Twenty seconds to admire the way her freckles dance when she smiles and her eyes shine when she speaks.

"I can feel you staring." Beatrice smiles and rests her chin on the top of Ava’s head. A deep breath, a soft sigh, a heartbeat warm beneath Ava’s palm.

"I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so damn beautiful." Beatrice makes a soft whiny noise in the back of her throat and her cheeks flush and, holy fuck, Ava was not expecting that and it was so cute and she’s suddenly hot, so hot, she’s sweating, she’s melting.

"Have you seen yourself?" Ava could kiss her. Ava wants to kiss her. If she’s not careful, Ava’s going to kiss her.

God, what do her lips feel like?

"Mama?" Yes, good. Ava can’t kiss her if she’s taking care of Diana. "Up up?"

Diana’s still in her gingerbread man pajamas, she’s dragging her rubber duck blanket and a stuffed monkey. She throws herself against the bed and pulls herself up with the duvet.

"Good morning, baby." Diana climbs onto Beatrice’s other side, mirroring the way her mother is sprawled across her.

For a moment, nothing exists but the three of them. Frozen in amber to be immortalized for the rest of human existence. Ava was never the sentimental type.

Not until Beatrice.

~*~

Beatrice is hidden in the den, tucked between the bookshelves and the wall, chewing on her thumbnail and staring at the same page she’d started over at least five times.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" Rich extends a beer to her, she shakes her head. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I’m - I’m not sure. Where’s - "

"Family grocery trip. I wanted to chat with you alone." Beatrice closes her book.

"Am I in trouble?" It’s a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. "Oh. I am in trouble."

"No, no. Why don’t you come over here?" He motions to the couch and Beatrice’s heart sinks to her stomach. The last time she was called to the couch still haunts her.

"Beatrice, can you join me for a moment?"

"Am I in trouble?"

"No, I just need to chat with you for a moment."

"Oh god. Is this the sex talk? Because I - "

"I know Shannon’s talked with you but there are things I need to make sure you know."

That’s when Martha pulled out the banana and the condom.

"Oh, I really don’t - "

"Beatrice, I can’t tell you not to have sex, but I can show you how to be safe."

"I really don’t think - "

"So I’m going to show you how then I want you to show me, okay? It’s really important that you put the condom on right because that’s the only way to not only prevent pregnancy but also - "

"Martha, please I - " Beatrice wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole, she felt like she was on fire. She could have died. She would’ve rather died than have that conversation with Martha.

"Beatrice, I know you’re uncomfortable, I am too. But this is important."

"No, I need to tell you - "

"Oh god, don’t tell me you’re pregnant? I knew I should’ve had this talk wi - "

"No! I’m gay, I’m really gay. I’m a lesbian. I don’t like boys at all. I’m not interested - "

"I know."

"What?" She knows? How? Shannon would never -

"Don’t worry, Shannon didn’t say anything. I’ve known since the beginning. I didn’t think you would ever come out unless you were pushed."

"How?"

"I know my daughters, Beatrice. I know when Shannon sneaks out and I know when you borrow my car without asking and I know when you both have been drinking. Call it mother’s intuition, call it gut instinct, call it whatever you want. But I know."

"I feel like I have to tell you, if this is another sex talk, Martha already told me and you’re a little late."

"No, it’s not that. It’s about Ava."

God, that’s worse. Beatrice almost wishes he had said it was another sex talk.

"Don’t worry, kid, just take a seat." Beatrice grimaces but she takes the seat, ignoring the pit in her stomach.

"So?"

"Martha already gave Ava an if you hurt my daughter talk, but, from what I understand, Ava doesn’t have someone to do that for her. Am I right?"

"You are correct."

"Okay then. I don’t know her very well, but I have grown quite fond of her this week. She seems like a good person, and I know she makes you happy. She looks at you like you paint every sunset just for her. I don’t know if you’re both pretending there’s nothing between you two, but there is. There’s something real there, Beatrice. Something good."

"I don’t think - I - I’m not sure - she doesn’t have feelings for me."

"And you’re sure about that?" No. She wants to say. I’m not sure of anything except that I’m in love with her.

"You’re not, are you? You know I’m right. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you but you deserve good things, Beatrice. You deserve good things.

"Ava’s a good thing. Okay? She’s smart and funny and kind and she’s in love with you."

"What - what if it doesn’t work?"

"What if it does?" For the first time, she looks at him. Really looks at him. She takes in his weathered face, sees every wrinkle and freckle and scar. He has laugh lines and crows feet and a scar on his left eyebrow from when Beatrice decided she wanted to play lacrosse.

There’s a story for every mark on his face, a lesson that was learned or a memory that was made. His whole life is written in the history of his face, she can see it now. From learning to crawl to walking Shannon down the aisle, from playing hide and seek to finding the love of his life. First kisses and near misses and moments that can’t be replaced. He’s lived an entire life before he met her.

Sometimes she forgets he wasn’t always Shannon’s father, that he was just a boy once, just a boy with braces and a bad perm and an undeniable crush on the girl in his world history class. He was just Ricky. He wasn’t a father, he wasn’t a husband, he didn’t have to be anything for anyone.

He’s lived through things Beatrice will never know about.

"I can’t lose them. I can’t." Now he looks at her like he can see the inside of her soul, like he knows things about her that she doesn’t yet know herself.

"Then don’t. No matter what happens between you and Ava, you can’t walk away from Diana. She depends on you now, so you have to keep showing up for her. Do you understand that?

"I don’t care if Ava breaks your heart and sells the pieces for drug money, that little girl needs you. She needs you, Beatrice. Not me, not Shannon, not Martha. You. You’re her parent now, that’s not something you can just take off and pass to someone else. You have to carry that for the rest of your life. You have to take care of her for the rest of your life.

"If you break Ava’s heart, I’ll understand. But if you break Diana’s heart…" He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. She knows.

"I think - I think I really like her…" She’s chewing on her lip and peeling off the chapped skin. He pats her knee and offers a gentle smile.

"I know you do, kid. I see how you look at her." He takes a swig of his beer and rests his elbows on his knees.

"I don’t want to lose them. I really don’t want to hurt either of them. Especially Diana. She’s just…" She sighs and shrugs. "She’s a little ball of light. I don’t want to take that from her."

"So don’t."

"It’s not - it’s not that easy, Rich."

"Sure it is. You don’t want to lose them and you don’t want to hurt them, so don’t. I trust you won’t, why can’t you?"

"Because - "

"We’re home!" The door thumps against the wall, keys drop into the glass dish in the entryway, tiny feet patter down the hallway.

"Da!" Diana cheers, launching herself over the coffee table and into Beatrice’s lap. She immediately launches into a nonsensical babbling about their trip to the shops, Ava follows a few moments later trying to coax Diana out of her coat and shoes.

Ava has a Santa sticker in her hair, Beatrice extracts it carefully, ignoring how her face flushes hot when her knuckles brush against Ava’s cheek. Her head spins when Ava’s smiles at her.

Why can’t it be that easy?

She knows, logically, why it isn’t easy. She knows how much she stands to lose if it falls apart, she knows how broken she would be if it doesn’t work.

But what if it all works out in the end?

~*~

"Five!" Ava’s head is swimming, spinning and swirling the Christmas lights into a muddled mess. Her chest is warm, burning like the fire in front of her.

"Four!" She leans heavily into Beatrice’s side. Her skin smolders in every place they touch.

"Three!" Beatrice shimmers, bright and glowing when she smiles at her. Her eyes twinkle and shine brighter than the fireworks in the sky.

"Two!" Their faces flash red, blue, purple, gold. Their breaths puff and mingle between them. They’re close enough to kiss. Ava would barely have to move for their lips to touch.

"One!" Confetti pops and shimmers and falls around them, the fireworks crack and burn but Ava’s view is much more dazzling. Beatrice with her head tilted to the sky watching the glimmering light show, the deep velvet sky broken up by starlight and burning gunpowder. Her smile is easy and crooked, she pulls Ava tighter into her side, the arm around her waist strong and addictive. Ava never wants her to move.

"Happy new year!" Shannon flashes them with a sunshine smile, presses a quick kiss against Beatrice’s cheek before catapulting into Mary’s arms to kiss her.

Beatrice twists, her voice soft and hesitant. Ava can barely make it out over the celebration around them.

"Would you be my first kiss of the new year?" Ava’s heart chisels into her ribs, so loud she’s certain Beatrice can hear it. When she nods, Beatrice cradles her face between her hands, her thumbs ghosting over her cheeks and Ava ruptures. Beatrice ignites a wildfire beneath her skin, blazing and scalding and uncontrollable.

She tilts Ava’s head and presses a feather light kiss against her cheek.

Ava can’t tell if the flashing behind her eyes is from the fireworks or from Beatrice’s lips so close to her own. The world tilts and spins and Ava’s knees nearly give out. She has to dig her fingers into Beatrice’s shoulders to keep from falling. Beatrice notices, her eyes flicker when Ava nearly tips into her and she steadies her, nodding to the back door.

Ava is going to melt through the floorboards. Beatrice leads her slowly up the stairs. She’s speaking, murmuring something quietly that Ava can’t understand — can’t hear over the timpani rhythm thrashing in her ears. She holds the door for Ava, eases it closed behind her and Ava can’t resist anymore.

She presses Beatrice’s back into the door and kisses her, softly, hesitantly. Beatrice only hesitates a moment before she threads her fingers through Ava’s hair, tongue warm against Ava’s bottom lip.

Ava’s ruined, absolutely ruined for anyone else. Beatrice’s kiss is intoxicating, her touch insidious as it burns over her skin. She tastes like sunshine and champagne and forever. Ava could spend the rest of her life in this moment, in the bright, burning moment.

"Ava…" Beatrice husks, breath fanning across Ava’s face when Ava leans in to kiss along her jaw. "Ava, you’re drunk."

Ava hums, continuing her exploration of Beatrice’s neck. Beatrice whimpers when Ava scraps her teeth over her pulse, shivering and biting hard on her lip before she presses her palm into Ava’s sternum. She nudges her, peels Ava off of her.

"Ava, you’re drunk." Her lips are red and swollen and her chest is heaving, eyes blown and dark. "We - I can’t. You’ve been drinking."

"I want this." She tries to lean back into her but Beatrice’s palm keeps her just far enough away. "Bea…"

"You might change your mind in the morning." Beatrice has mostly gotten herself together, her breathing not nearly as heavy as before.

"I won’t - "

"Please," Beatrice finally moves her hand away, lifts it to cradle the back of Ava’s head. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, swirling and bubbling with something Ava doesn’t understand.

"Can I…" Ava steps back into her, pauses a breath away from her lips. Beatrice kisses her again, soft but certain. She rests their foreheads together when she breaks away, neither moves. Ava watches her eyelids flutter, counts the freckles across her nose and cheeks, savors having Beatrice this close. She’s twisted the neck of Beatrice’s sweater around her fingers and she releases it now, tries to smooth the wrinkles.

"It’s fine." Beatrice kisses her cheek, lingers long enough for Ava to fold into her chest, her heartbeat thunders heavy and fast beneath Ava’s hand. "Let’s go to bed, darling."

Neither wants to let go, wants the moment to end, but Beatrice leads them to the bed and slowly untangles from Ava. She helps Ava take off her shoes, gathers their clothes from the floor after they change, and slips into the bed beside Ava. They don’t touch, Ava curls onto her side and stares at the opposite wall and Beatrice watches the fan spin in slow circles.

Ava’s head still spins and her entire body still simmers from Beatrice’s touch, but it’s fading. With every heartbeat, her blood grows colder and her heart squeezes tighter in her chest. She can’t help but wonder if she’s ruined the best thing in her life.

"Bea?" They know each other too well now, they know when the other is asleep and when they’re pretending. When Beatrice hums, Ava rolls herself over and props herself on her elbow. "Are we okay?"

Her stomach roils and churns until Beatrice opens her eyes. She brushes Ava’s loose hair over her shoulder, traces a line down her arm and tugs Ava into her by the wrist, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles.

"Always." Ava presses her ear above Beatrice’s heartbeat. "We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?"

Ava nods, traces shapes onto Beatrice’s sternum, amazed by the goosebumps she raises in her wake. Beatrice’s heart speeds up with every inch she touches. Ava’s doing this to her. Ava’s the cause of the way her heart races and the shiver she tries to repress and the breath caught in her throat when Ava’s finger slips just beneath her neckline.

"Ava…" Her voice is low and warning, she grips Ava’s wrist tightly in her hand and pulls it away.

"Sorry."

"No, you’re not." Ava can practically taste the mirth in Beatrice’s smile, her eyes glittering and light. She’s right and she knows it, taunting even when she drops Ava’s hand and kisses her forehead. "Go to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

~*~

Beatrice doesn’t sleep. She watches the moonlight creep up her walls before it fades and leaves the room bathed in darkness, watches as pale sunlight sneaks through the blinds. She watches Ava’s eyelashes flutter, the easy rise and fall of her breaths, the way her eyebrows knit together and she balls Beatrice’s shirt in her hand, the heavy exhale when Beatrice rubs her back.

She murmurs in her sleep, nonsensical noises intertwined with Beatrice’s name. She rolls away at one point, yanking the duvet with her, but she makes an indignant whiny noise and flips back into Beatrice.

Beatrice shifts onto her side, pulls Ava into her chest and drops her chin on the top of her head. Beatrice wants to slow time to a stop, wants to capture this moment like a firefly in a jar.

For a moment, Beatrice lets the world fall away and lets herself wonder what could be if they didn’t have so much to lose and they were just two women in love. No responsibilities, no obligations, no worries, no fear. Just her and Ava. For a moment, the world shimmers and nothing bad could possibly happen, nothing could hurt them.

The door creaks open slowly and Shannon peeks inside, offers a quick smile and wave before Diana stumbles through the crack.

And the world comes crashing back down around her.

Beatrice slips out of Ava’s embrace and herds Diana back towards the hallway, balancing her on her hip when she holds her arms up asking to be held. Shannon closes the door with the same careful quiet as before. She catches Beatrice by the elbow when they reach the landing at the top of the stairs. She doesn’t have to ask, Beatrice knows her question without needing to hear it. She peels a strip of chapped skin from her bottom lip, offers a quick smile and a head shake before continuing down the stairs.

"You’re quiet this morning." Diana lifts her head sleepily, blinks at Beatrice silently. The silence drops like a stone in her stomach. "Are you okay?" Diana drops her head back against Beatrice’s shoulder with a huff, toying with the neck of Beatrice’s shirt. Beatrice frowns.

"She woke up right before we got you. She’s probably still be waking up." Shannon offers, pats Diana’s back when she slips into the kitchen. Martha smiles at them before offering a plate of pancakes. Beatrice takes one and pulls a little piece off, offering it to Diana. She takes it, but doesn’t eat it, inspects it closely instead.

It’s early. Earlier than Diana is normally awake.

"Did you have a bad dream, baby?" Diana’s bottom lip quivers and she drops the pancake in her hand, presses her face into Beatrice’s shoulder and clenches a fist around the front of her shirt.

Beatrice slips into the den, lifts the blanket from the couch and cradles Diana against her chest while she rocks in the rocking chair. Diana twists around, trying to see the Christmas lights on the tree so Beatrice flips the chair around so she can see them easily. Wraps the blanket around them, searches the surfaces of the room.

Shannon calls her name from the doorway, offers one of Diana’s pacifiers that she accepts gratefully. She waits, tucks herself into the corner of the couch and waits for Diana to fall back asleep before speaking.

"So?" Beatrice sighs and glares at her. "What’s wrong, Speedy?"

Beatrice hesitates, glances down the hallway towards the stairs.

"I think I fucked up, Shan." Her voice cracks and she takes a long, shaking inhale. Shannon is sitting on the coffee table with her hand on Beatrice’s knee before Beatrice can even finish her breath.

"What happened?" Shannon’s inspecting every inch of skin she can see, searching for a bruise or a burn to explain away Beatrice’s tears.

"She kissed me. Last night. And I - " Beatrice shakes her head and shrugs, drops her gaze to Diana.

"You what? Did you slap her?" Beatrice flinches at the accusation, shakes her head forcefully. "Tell her you’re straight? Tell her you’re not in love with her? What?"

"I kissed her back, Shannon." There’s a stinging bite around her words, burning and singeing in her chest.

"Okay…?" Shannon leans back, tilts her head and furrows her eyes. Beatrice waves her hand between them like all the evidence has been presented and Shannon’s an idiot for not seeing what she is. "Okay, I’m actually confused.

"You’re in love with her." It’s a statement, a fact. Undeniable. It’s visible from here to a blind astronaut on the International Space Station. Beatrice can’t deny it.

"Okay so, here’s what I’m getting, let me know if I’m wrong: you’re in love with Ava and you kissed her last night and now you’re freaking out?"

"She was drunk, she didn’t mean it."

"Oh shut the fuck up. That girl has been in love with you since I first met her. Also, she had two glasses of champagne. She was barely tipsy."

Beatrice drops her eyes to Diana who wiggles when Shannon speaks. She doesn’t respond, she knows Shannon’s right but she can’t admit that to herself without getting her hopes up.

"Okay so you kissed and then what?" Beatrice shakes her head and Shannon groans. "You kissed her then went to sleep? You didn’t even talk about it?"

"I told her we could talk in the morning."

"Well it’s morning now, why aren’t you talking? Oh my god, you need to get your ass up there before she wakes up because she’s going to think she fucked up if she wakes up alone." Shannon pulls her from the seat, leads her to the bottom of the stairs and motions up them. Beatrice hesitates, gut churning so hard she thinks she’s going to vomit. "Look. You can’t change what happened, Bea. But you can go up there and tell her you’re in love with her."

Beatrice’s heart pounds so loudly, she worries it will wake Diana. She can see her heart beating against her chest, feel it pressing heavy behind her eyes, thrashing in her ears. She feels unsteady, like the time she had a concussion and the ground felt like water beneath her feet. She knows, on an intellectual level, Shannon is right. But right now, in her aching chest and burning bones and spinning head, it doesn’t matter. Because she let the fire burn too long and now she’s going to lose the forest.

She paces in front of the door, forces herself still and breathes deeply and opens the door quietly. Ava’s sitting up in the bed, legs crossed and holding something in her hands.

"Good morning." Beatrice freezes in the doorway, waiting for the courage to move closer. Ava’s eyes are shimmering when she looks up, frowning when she sees Diana in Beatrice’s arms.

"Is she okay?" Her voice cracks and she clears her throat before repeating herself.

"Yeah, she had a bad dream." Beatrice is rooted in the doorway, unmoving. Ava doesn’t move to her either. "She’s - she’s asleep again now."

Ava nods solemnly, picks at the dry skin on her lips for a moment before turning back to the object in her lap. Beatrice takes a step forward. Then another. And another. She stops at the foot of the bed, ears ringing and heartbeat louder than a war drum.

Ava has a picture frame in her lap, scribbled green and bearing half a book of stickers. If she flips it over, she’d see where Diana had tried to write her name across the back.

Inside, there’s a picture of the three of them. Diana’s hoisted on Beatrice’s shoulders and she pointing at something out of frame, smiling. Beatrice is looking at Ava, smile softer and eyes glimmering. Ava is in front of them, grinning, bright and vibrant as the summer sun. They were on their way home from the park, had stopped to get ice cream even though it was nearly freezing.

It’s Beatrice’s favorite photo. The only one in a frame in her room, the crooked picture frame filling her bones with warm helium that defies gravity around her until she floats above the ground.

"How’d you sleep?" God, this shouldn’t be this hard. How is she supposed to start this conversation?

I’m in love with you and I’ve been in love with you since before we met, it’s you, Ava.

"Fine. You?"

You’re the one I want for the rest of my life.

"Not very well." Ava looks up from the image in her lap.

The heavens and the earth were formed to be compared to you.

"Sorry." Beatrice wants to kiss her again, to flatten the wrinkle between her brows under the pad of her thumb, to tangle her hand in her hair and breathe in her breaths.

Under all forms and under all aspects, I am yours.

"It wasn’t your fault." Ava nods silently and Diana shifts in Beatrice’s arms, they both watch her whine and push against Beatrice’s chest until she settles again, huffing and curling her fingers around Beatrice’s shirt collar.

You are the rising sun which I adore.

Beatrice moves to Ava’s side of the bed, sitting on the edge and waiting for her to check on Diana. It’s simple. Routine. Beatrice rocks her and Ava flattens the wrinkle between her brow with the pad of her thumb and they sit in silence.

You shame the stars with the brightness in your eyes.

"So, last night." Ava tenses beside her, her breath stutters and she pulls away with an awkward laugh.

"Haha yeah. I - um - I don’t remember much. Hope I didn’t do anything weird." Beatrice’s heart sinks and her face falls as she watches Ava tuck her knees to her chest, she bites her lip to hide her frown.

"No, you’re - " Beatrice sighs. "You’re good. You were fine."

I am irrevocably, undeniably, catastrophically in love with you.

Beatrice stands again, moves to the door and invites Ava to breakfast.

"I’m not very hungry, but thank you." Beatrice nods and closes the door quietly behind her.

Shannon is sat at the bottom of the stairs, twirling a paintbrush through her fingers. She looks up when Beatrice starts down to her, her easy smile falling away to furrowed brows. She presses their foreheads together when she reaches her, cradles the back of her head and listens to her cry. She doesn’t shush her, doesn’t tell her it’s going to be alright. She holds her and she waits.

"She lied." This is the unfortunate truth of knowing someone as well as they know each other. "She said she doesn’t remember last night.

"Shannon, she didn’t have that much to drink."

Shannon glances up the stairs before leading Beatrice down them and out the back door. They crunch over the muddled snow and Shannon guides her to their old, run down treehouse.

"If she said she doesn’t remember that means two things." Shannon drapes her arm over Beatrice’s shoulders and pulls her into her side. "One, you did the right thing by stopping last night. If she can’t talk about a kiss, she’s not ready for more than that. And two, she’s at least as enamored with you as you are her."

Beatrice lifts her head curiously, chewing on her bottom lip and trying to fight back the tears.

"She wouldn’t pretend to have no memory about the atom bomb she dropped in your lap if she wasn’t scared it was going to blow you both up." Beatrice sobs and Shannon pulls her back into her chest. She lets her tears soak through her pullover and listens to the sobs Beatrice muffles with her fist.

They sit for a long time in silence, their breaths puffing around them in tiny thunderclouds. The back door opens and someone calls their names, it’s muffled and too soft to make out entirely, but Beatrice knows it’s Ava.

Shannon watches Beatrice when she doesn’t reply, offers her hand to hold until Beatrice exhales heavily and stands. She sniffs and wipes the dirt from her pants and takes a shuttering breath before re-emerging beside Shannon, Diana still tucked carefully against her chest.

Their cheeks are flushed and their fingers ache and Beatrice worries Diana has gotten too cold, but her face is warm and coated in a thin layer of sweat. Beatrice kisses her forehead before following Shannon in through the back door, through the kitchen, and into the den where she eases into the rocking chair and begins to rock.

She can’t be certain if she’s avoiding Ava or if it’s the opposite, but they don’t speak the rest of the day. In fact, they don’t speak until the early hours of the next morning.

Beatrice isn’t asleep, but she’s pretending to be. Ava doesn’t say anything when she sits upright and tucks her knees to her chest.

"Hey." Despite being wide awake, Beatrice’s voice is groggy. "Are you alright?"

Ava hooks her chin over her shoulder to look at her. She’s not crying but she wishes she were. Maybe if she were crying the ache in her chest would ease.

"Fine."

Beatrice shakes her head at her and sits up. "What’s wrong?"

"Tell me I didn’t ruin this." Now Ava cries. A single desperate sob that shakes the bed.

"Ava…"

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know - I know I - I should - "

"Ava." Beatrice’s hand is soft and warm in her own, pulling her gently to face her.

"I’m sorry." Beatrice shakes her head again, cradles Ava’s face in her hands.

"Ava, stop." She’s gentle. Soft. "You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve ruined nothing, Ava."

"I - I lied." Ava pulls away.

"I know."

"I remember last night."

"I know."

"I kissed you." Ava finally lifts her head, eyes wide and red. "I’m sorry."

"Ava," Beatrice sighs and smiles. "I kissed you back."

Ava sniffles.

"I kissed you back." Beatrice cups her cheeks again, glances at Ava’s lips before continuing. "I’m not sorry."

"You…" Ava doesn’t continue.

"Yes, Ava." Beatrice nods. "I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry for loving you."

Ava doesn’t have any words. She doesn’t know what she would say even if she did. She doesn’t know how to put the heat in her chest into words.

Ava thought she loved JC. She thought she loved him so much she had a baby with him. She moved in with him and they were supposed to be a family. Her, Diana, and JC. She was going to marry him.

Loving JC was like loving a hurricane, unpredictable and dangerous. He never hurt her. Not physically. But Ava used to wonder if he took some sick joy in breaking her heart over and over again.

But Beatrice?

Beatrice is safe and kind and tender. Beatrice is careful with Ava’s heart and protective of Diana’s. Beatrice teaches Diana how to make breakfast and tie her shoes, she tucks her into bed and she reads her bedtime stories. Beatrice takes out Ava’s trash because she knows how it hurts Ava’s back to carry it down the stairs and she always walks on the side closest to traffic when they’re walking on the sidewalk, she brings Ava anti-inflammatory medicine and hot tea and a heating pad when Ava’s back is flaring up.

Loving Beatrice is like coming home from a long trip away, like waking up in your own bed after being away for so long. It’s familiar and gentle and secure.

"I kissed you back. And, if it’s alright with you, I would very much like to do it again?"

Loving JC never felt quite right. Ava always felt like she had to work hard to love him, it felt like a chore that she had to do every day. By the time Ava realized she wasn’t in love with him, she was already pregnant. so she stayed. Because she grew up without a dad and she didn’t want that for her baby.

If only she’d known JC wasn’t going to stay. Maybe she’d have left him sooner. Maybe she’d have met Beatrice sooner and this wouldn’t scare her so much.

Loving Beatrice has always been easy. It’s been so easy Ava didn’t know she was doing it at first. It was as easy as breathing. That’s the scariest part. Ava doesn’t have to try to be someone Beatrice loves, she already is.

"Are you sure?" Ava needs Beatrice to make the move, she can’t. Ava can’t be the person responsible if this burns to the ground around her.

"I’m certain, Ava. May I?" Beatrice traces her thumb over Ava’s jaw, feather light and it makes Ava shiver.

"You may." Beatrice doesn’t move so Ava continues, voice trembling and barely a whisper. "Please."

When Beatrice’s breath fans across Ava’s face, Ava shivers again and Beatrice pauses.

"I’m going to kiss you now." She glances between Ava’s eyes when she speaks, her voice steady and low.

"Okay," Ava whispers, eyes fluttering closed when her nose brushes against Beatrice’s.

And, oh. This kiss is nothing like the one before. It’s gentle and slow and Ava feels alight. Every place when Beatrice is touching her, the hand on her cheek and the one at the base of her neck, is on fire.

God, Ava doesn’t know what she was so scared of.

Ava follows her when she tries to break away, gripping Beatrice’s shoulder as she pushes her back into the mattress. Straddling Beatrice’s hips, Ava finally pulls away to kiss along Beatrice’s jaw, finding that spot on her neck that made Beatrice whine last night.

"Ava…" Beatrice whimpers. Immediately Ava stops, pulling away, prepared to sleep on the floor if she’d crossed a line Beatrice wasn’t ready for her to.

"I’m sorry," Ava’s stopped by Beatrice’s hand tangling into her hair, her heart rupturing when Beatrice’s eyes meet hers, pupils blown.

"Don’t be. I was going to tell you not to leave a mark."

Oh.

Beatrice’s hand slides to the small of Ava’s back, pushing her shirt up in her search for Ava’s skin. Ava has to remind herself to breathe before she kisses Beatrice again.

Beatrice’s lips against her skin is addictive, scorching as they move across her jaw to her neck before pulling away abruptly.

"This isn’t going to work." Ava blinks, heart and lungs frozen in her chest, when Beatrice glances to the mattress beside them and grins at her, the hand on Ava’s shoulder moving to her hips and wrapping around them tightly when Beatrice flips them. "That’s better."

Ava drops her head against the pillows and takes a steadying breath, trying to ease the icy tension in her body.

"Is this alright?" Ava nods but Beatrice doesn’t move. "Ava, what’s wrong?"

"I thought…" What does she say? I thought you changed your mind? I thought you were going to leave? It’s irrational. Beatrice watches her gently, one hand stroking Ava’s cheek and the other tangling their fingers together.

"Thought what, darling?" Beatrice probes when it becomes apparent Ava has no intention of continuing.

Ava shakes her head and forces a smile. "Nothing, it doesn’t matter."

"It matters to me."

A series of quick smacks against the door save Ava from having to form an answer, Shannon’s voice calling through the door.

"I have a belated Christmas gift for you two, is it PG-13 in there? I got little eyes I don’t wanna traumatize."

"Ava, tell me." Ava bites her lip before kissing Beatrice softly.

"I thought you changed your mind," Ava whispers. She expects Beatrice to laugh or maybe to get upset, she doesn’t expect Beatrice to soften.

"I’ll never change my mind about you, Ava. Neither you nor Diana. I’m sorry I haven’t properly articulated that to you. I want you, " two louder knocks and Shannon repeats herself, " and I want Diana and I always will. I promise."

"You can’t promise that." JC had promised Ava the rest of his life.

"I can and I have and I will continue to until you believe me."

"You have three seconds to make yourself Disney approved before I’m returning your gremlin child," Shannon threatens through the door after a series of fort rattling knocks.

Beatrice kisses Ava softly once more before rolling off of her and opening the door. Shannon narrows her eyes and glances between them as Diana races past Beatrice and rockets onto the bed.

"You good?" She looks Beatrice over as she speaks and Beatrice assures they are. "Alright, well. Mary and I don’t have a kid yet and we’re trying to sleep, which Diana seems vehemently opposed to so, no more sleepover. You’re welcome."

Diana bounces on the bed next to Ava, spinning and twisting as she giggles.

Shannon offers Beatrice Diana’s duck blanket and stuffed monkey before she wishes them a good night and returns to her room.

Diana bounces and jumps into Beatrice’s arms when she approaches the bed, squealing.

"Bedtime, little one?" Beatrice proposes.

"No! No bed! Play!" Diana throws herself back to flop against the mattress. "We play, mama?"

I love you. Ava thinks as she watches Beatrice talk Diana out of a two a.m. snowball fight. It doesn’t matter that they’re both tired, Beatrice is readily prepared to keep Diana entertained regardless of the hour. I’m going to marry you.

Beatrice whispers something in Diana’s ear and they both look to Ava with the same mischievous smile.

"Whatever it is: my answer is no. No, nope, nada." Ava catches Diana when she throws herself into Ava’s chest while Beatrice climbs onto the bed beside them.

"Diana, now!" They both start to tickle Ava at the same time, grinning when Ava tries to fight them off as she squeals and tries to wiggle away. Diana giggles and flops away, leaving Beatrice with her fingers sprawled across Ava’s stomach.

I want to kiss you. Ava thinks and Beatrice laughs, fingers crawling up Ava’s sides and sprawling over her ribs.

"Then kiss me."

Shit, I said that out loud. Beatrice laughs again and nods at her.

"Did I do it again?" Ava scrunches her face.

"You did." Ava leans into her and groans, Beatrice watching her bemused. "Do you still want a kiss?"

"Yes, please." Ava lifts her head from Beatrice’s shoulder, heart racing when Beatrice leans into her and presses a gentle kiss against the corner of her mouth, pulling away with a mischievous grin.

"Me too!" Diana crawls under Beatrice’s arm and pushes between them, kissing both their cheeks before presenting her face for her kisses.

Beatrice kisses Diana’s cheek before squeezing her against her chest and tickling her. Diana shrieks and squirms, begging Beatrice to stop or Ava to save her. When Beatrice relents and releases her, Diana crosses her arms and pouts.

"No, Dada. Only tickles for Mama," Diana chastises, eyebrows drawn together and head shaking.

"I’m so sorry, patinho, will you ever forgive me?" Beatrice clutches her heart. Diana considers her question for a moment before grinning toothily and answering.

"I cream."

"Ice cream? It’s almost three in the morning, are you sure?" Ava shrugs when Beatrice glances at her. "You know what? Let’s do it. But just this once."

Diana leaps of the bed and thumps to the ground, bouncing to the door and wiggling excitedly while she waits Beatrice.

"Would you like to join us?" Beatrice helps Diana onto her back, Diana’s arms wrapped around her neck and head peeking over Beatrice’s shoulder.

I’d follow you anywhere.

#warrior nun #sister beatrice #ava silva #avatrice #warrior nun s2 #bea and ava #warrior nun season 2 #wn s2 #save warrior nun #warrior nun netflix #warrior nun fanfic #warrior nun fic #babysitting au #babysitter au #fic: like the princess #christmas fluff

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bechloesupercorp · 2 years ago

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She hasn't had a plushie since she was six. Her beloved teddy ripped straight from her arms on night with a stern "You're too old for this Beatrice. Such disgraceful infantile behaviour -- we expect more."

Ever since, she's fallen asleep, alone, facing the ceiling, arms stiff by her sides. That was, until Ava.

Slowly wearing her down, at first a gentle hand on her bicep, the soft pressure of Ava's body almost against hers.

It was like a string snapped.

Unabashedly draped over each other in their sleep, cherishing the warmth of affection in the protective arms that wound themselves tight in the aftermath of a nightmare.

Bea doesn't think she's ever slept as well as she did in Switzerland, wrapped in the unsaid fondness that had overstepped platonic since before they'd ever left the convent.

--- --- ---

"Bea!" Ava tugged her along, weaving through the crowds to the carnival games. "Hold this," Ava said, shoving the bright yellow ducky Bea had won for her mere hours earlier, one eye closed while she blew away the teenaged worker at the water gun game with her impeccable aim. Truthfully, she'd won one of the larger toys, but catching the way Ava lingered on the little duck made her lean across the booth, softly requesting the yellow thing.

It's soft fur ran under her fingers, the same way that Ava's funky t-shirts did, grounding and secure. Sometimes, when she did the laundry, she'd let her fingers linger over Ava's shirts, fleetingly imagining a life without restraint.

Without restraint, like the glee on Ava's face, whacking moles with a little mallet under the blinking of carnival lights. The pure joy radiated into Bea's heart, a soft look in her eyes. Is this love?

--- --- ---

It is, Bea decides, arms loosely around Ava's waist as she drifts awake, duck and the teddy Ava had won pressed against her face. Tension dripped off her bones, leaving her a gooey mess in the safety of their apartment, but oh so content.

--- --- ---

Then Ava is gone. Ava is gone and Bea is alone. In the convent, her bed has never been fuller, clutching duck and teddy tight to her chest, like they might leave too. Her bed's never been fuller, but she's never felt more alone.

--- --- ---

The morning she resolves herself, a last-ditch effort to bring Ava back, she makes her bed as usual. Duck and teddy in either hands. Fingers lingering on duck's soft down, a whisper of what had been. Of the love they had. And forever would. She pauses, mumbling under her breath before tucking them both into the bed, gently wrapping ducky in teddy's arms, with a soft goodbye. I would hold you forever, if I could.

--- --- ---

Ava is back. At the foot of the bed, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. Through carnival nights and sleepless plights, she could always return to Bea's arms. The ghost of an embrace hovered over her shoulders. She could hear a faint voice, like a promise once murmured to the wind. I've held you forever, and forever will. Then the simple farewell, if it had to come to that.

In the next, my dear.

Bea's absence had never felt bigger.

#oops this was supposed to be fluff #that is if its even coherent in the first place #dhfkasj sorry falling asleep #teddy was supposed to be named donk #bc ava was donking the moles to get him #and duh ducks for ava ofc #anyways #warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #hcs #boink scribbles

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ritsuuu-0206 · 2 years ago

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Doodle

#warrior nun #avatrice #hurt!bea agenda #i hate anatomy sobs #okay enough angst art its back to fluff

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sapphicstacks · 2 years ago

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okay so for anyone wondering…

next chapter for the firefighter au will go up today or tomorrow (to save you from that cliffhanger lol)

AND THEN “What if there was some invisible string?” the sequel (continuation?) of my actors au hits AO3 this weekend! y’all ready for an infinite number of folklore/evermore references this time?

#work’s been wild so i can’t promise a regular schedule rn but i am writing up a storm so!#but y’all ready for some FLUFF?#is it in the firefighter au or the actor au?#maybe both!#that’s for you to find out!#avatrice fic #sapphicstacks ao3 #what if i told you i’m a mastermind? fic #avatrice firefighter au #warrior nun fic

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feiquacker · 1 year ago

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No grave can hold my body down - I'll crawl back to her on Ao3

Ava tells Bea about what's going to happen in the final battle.

Or. Bea has a hard time and Ava's there to take care of her

(@shy-forceghost best beta ever)

It's not fair. It's not fair of Ava to come at her, to confront her. To search out the one moment she doesn't have her emotions at bay and ask her to run away from this.

Because she can't. She wants to but she can't.

She cannot compromise the mission anymore. Not because of her own feelings. Not because of her sinful lust.

But what is the mission? What is her mission? Because on impulse it's Ava's safety. It's always Ava.

And it's not fair of Ava to come in and throw at her the plan she has.

The plan that involves a double suicide mission. A mission that involves Ava's death. Used as an ignition. An explosion. With divinum. Supposedly ripping Adreal apart.

And taking Ava with it.

She stares blankly at Ava as the words leave her mouth.

continue reading on Ao3

She's not acting like Shannon. She's not isolating or hiding.

But the outcome will be the same and Beatrice doesn't know if she could take it.

Something is different about Ava. It's not her Ava talking. It's not the embodiment of sunshine skipping down the road or the grinning talkmashine that eats icecream for supper.

This Ava is talking about her death as if there is no other way. As if her life is nothing. As if Beatrice would be ok with her dying.

God help her... If there even is a god. A kind god, allknowing.

What kind god would put a human though such agony as Ava? Writing her faith as a doll to be blown up and forgotten.

She watches Ava's lips move. She searches for the sparkle in Ava's eyes. But her ears are ringing and her head is spinning and she asks herself what god would write the death of Mary in such a gruesome and painful way?

What destiny people belive in?

What waking up to a cold bed and empty sheets will feel like?

"This might be one of our last conversations before I-"

Die. Before she dies. Because apparently something has made Ava belive the only way they can win this war is through the Warrior Nun's death.

Because to her the world is more important than her life.

The second it sinks in, Beatrice's brain just blacks out. She just - stares.

Doesn’t know what to say, doesn't know what to do.

Her brain goes black. Just like that. Any ability to form coherent thaughts and sentences vanishes.

She finds no words worthy enough for the answer Ava deserves. No plans that burst and light up in her highly logical and tactical brain, like countless times before. Just... Blanckness.

Darkness. An empty space, a white peace of paper, a dry sponge, a broken quantum computer.

Nothingness. Like a fog so think you can't see in front of you. Like a see so deep you can't feel gravity, like a wind so peaceful you can't hear anything.

Ava's death might be the only way they win. No There has to be a different way. 'AVA!' There *is* a different way.

She just needs to find it.

And suddenly Beatrice hears the sickening crack of Ava hitting the ground from falling 13 stories.

Ava's dead body weighing in her arms

"Why won't you say anything?"

blood soaking Bea's hands as she tries to hold together Ava's scalp.

"Beatrice?"

Ava's brain leaking down her fingers as she sobs over her bleeding body

"I don't - I don't know what to say." she stammers. Beatrice doesn't stammer.

Ava's eyes are empty of the typical glow. They are a lifeless shade of brown. She finds she misses the warmth they radiated a few days ago.

'Please don't leave me'

"I don't... know, what to - do."

"At least you could pretend to care." she huffs

'They can't beat us Bea. Not together'

"Ava-" she tries, eyes snapping to search for Ava who is already standing.

"See you at dinner." her voice sounds cold, it sends a shiver down Beatrice's spine.

"Ava -"

As if to underline her anger she slamms the door. Beatrice stays behind, left to sulk on the soft couch in their shared room. Petrified. Horrified.

Devistated.

She is mad... Ava is mad.

But Ava would never say something like that without a reason. Ava. Kind, understanding, patient Ava could never -

She hurt Ava. She was being vulnerable with her and she ruined it.

There's nothing particularly interesting to focus on, her eyes landing on the wall infront of her.

She can feel Ava's scalp starting to stich itself together under her bloody fingers

There's modern art on it. If they stayed here longer she could bet Ava would hang so many posters you could barely see the actual wall because of it.

'Easy. Easy.'

The air around her is thick and something tells her she needs to apologise but she doesn't know what for not to mention her temporary lack of vocabulary.

Just Ava's blood smeared on her hands. Ava's white brain matter, sticky and coating her fingers.

She doesn't move.

Doesn't dare move. Her thaughts are a mess as she continues blankly staring at the wall.

Her ears are buzzing. If it doesn't stop she thinks she'll go mad.

Not a sound, not a thought. It's only at the squeak of the door kicking open that she snaps her head in that direction.

Sir Mort, Julians favourite butler pokes his head through the little split of the door, looking at her with what seems to be shortlived surprise.

"Miss... Beatrice, Would you be joining dinner?"

She just shakes her head, watching him nod and slowly, nearly soundlessly close the door.

And she's alone again.

Alone and cold.

In their bedroom.

No.

In her bedroom.

----------

Ofcourse Beatrice doesn't care. Ofcourse she doesn't. Clearly its the only option they have. Or well. The one that guarantees the success of the mission.

She sulks around the corridors of this enormous house. Looking at paintings and just, thinking.

There's no other way. It's the best way. No. Its the only way.

She continues thinking that during dinner, where Bea doesn't show up. It doesn't help that everyone is asking her why Bea isn't there and where she is and what and who and how.

Ava doesn't know, she brushes them off. Because Bea isn't at dinner and because Ava was hoping to see her. Just. To enjoy a dinner with her favourite person, one last time.

She continues thinking about the upcoming mission, during her shower. Maybe this is her last one. Maybe this will be the last time warm water touches her skin. The thaught that this might be her last shower is probably the reason she's actually taking it.

She doesn't really need it. The water running through her hair and down her spine help muffle down the drowning feeling of approaching death.

But the thaughts are still there.

And despite all her efforts the image of a completely still Beatrice , and the void gaze, in her brown eyes haunts her every breath.

'She is a soldier', Ava thinks, washing the soap off her face 'I am one, too. And she sees me as nothing but that', the thaught twists her stomach, turns it inside out. Because today's events have shown exactly where Beatrice's priorities lie.

She may love Ava, and be too repressed to show it or allow herself to feel it. But despite that love, Ava will never be more important than the mission.

No matter whatever feelings she might have for Ava, they will never be enough, Ava will never be enough.

So when she has to go get her stuff out of their shared room, out of her room, she hesitates.

The door clicks open and she slowly pads into the room. It's exactly how she left it, Bea herself is still on the sofa, knees to her chest and curled up.

"Ava?" it's a little mutter. So small Ava thinks she made it up.

"You didn't show up for dinner", is the only thing Ava manages to say.

Because it's true. She left saying 'See you at dinner.' and Bea didn't do that. Didn't show up.

That's not what Beatrice does. Her Beatrice goes to the store in a storm to buy icecream. Her Beatrice sits suffering the loss of her braincells as she watches cheezy RomComs with Ava like she promised.

Her Beatrice... keeps her promises.

But then she sees it.

The way Bea ignores her gaze, her eyelashes so low it seems her eyes are closed. The nervous fidgeting with the pillow and the hem of her sweater; the red marks around her fingernails, long lines down her neck, the way a loose strand of hair is blocking her vision and she doesn't even try to put it away.

In that very second, Ava wants to slam herself against a wall so hard her brain will crack.

Because she had noticed back then, in the Alps, that this was how Bea zoned out during arguments.

And she wants to kick herself.

To Bea this is an argument. To Bea, Ava leaving her alone is a rejection. A dismissal of her emotions, of her feelings.

To Bea, Ava leaving was the equivalent of abandonment.

Hesitantly she takes a step forward, then another, then another, untill she's slowly taking the free space next to Bea.

She needs to touch her, to feel her, but she can't, because she learned back in Switzerland that's the wrong move.

Oh how much she would give to be back there now.

Careful to not touch Bea she mutters her name.

"Beatrice?" but Bea just shakes her head, pressing further into the couch.

"No Beatrice?" Bea shakes her head again.

Ava remembers the night they had their first little fight. Or well. The aftermath. Bea admitting to why she felt so attacked when being referred to with her whole name.

In Bea's eyes, her full name has only been used for scolding. Bad memories. Painful ones.

"Bea." she mutters again. Taking the spot on the floor just infront of Beatrice. She tries again, in the softest voice she can manage

"Bea, look at me."

But Bea shakes her head and more of her hair falls before her eyes. Hair that Ava wants to gently swipe back and tuck behind her ear. Hair that is further blocking her view of those deep browns.

"Can I touch your cheek?" and Bea gives a tiny nod, before Ava's palm is cupping the warmth of Bea's cheek.

Fingers automatically stroking the shy freckles.

Ava slowly lifts Bea's cheek up, enough for Bea's big brown eyes to show. Pupils blown and redrimmed.

"There you are." she gives her a little smile. Beatrice leans into the warm touch, eyes closing as she nuzzles the partialy wet skin against Ava's palm.

"Talk to me Bea." she whispers. Watching Bea's eyes slightly widen, taking in two rigid, rapid breaths before shaking her head and opening her mouth just a tad.

"Bea..."

"I can't - I." the muscles in her jaw thence and Ava hears the characteristic sound of teeth chattering together when Bea's frustrated.

-----------

I can't lose you

I can't tell you

I can't form sentences

I can't lose you

I can't think

I can't let you die

I can't stop thinking

I can't make it stop

I can't let you do it

I care.

"I... I ca-" she tries again. Nose twitching "Can't" her eyebrows furrow as she breaths though greeted teeth "Ava, I-"

"It's ok. It's ok if you can't tell me right now." no it's not ok. She needs to tell her. She needs to show her she cares.

"Do you want a glass of water?"

"No. No I-" she brings up her hand as if to demonstrate. Just say it but she can't and she wants to but her brain won't cooperate and she needs Ava to know she cares.

"Bea it's ok." There's a second palm on her face and it's so soft she can now notice the tears that are starting to form because she's frustrated. She's _angry_ - with herself. And it's too much, and she wants to scream into a void, lock herself in the room and never come out.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Yes. Please. Don't go. Don't see me like this but also don't go.

I don't want to be alone again. I don't want to think. I don't-

"Bea?" she nods. She nods. Any other day Ava would have asked for a verbal confirmation. But now she just smiles.

So Beatrice tries again. Stammering out an "I." before her voice cracks and her vision blurs "I care."

The tremors in her hands still. She had tremors? As she watches Ava leaning up to plant a kiss between her eyebrows before she stands.

Beatrice whimpers at the loss of warmth on her face. Slowly uncurling herself from the position she was in.

"I know you care Bea. It wasn't right of me to say that. It wasn't right of me to leave you alone." Ava sais. Carefully wiping the tear that slips down Beatrice's cheek.

"I'm sorry." why does this genuen apology hurt so much? Cutting straight through her stomach?

"Bea?" her voice is sweet. Intoxicating.

She doesn't know what's gotten into her when she grabs onto Ava's pullover, when she pulls and presses her cheek into Ava's stomach, wrapping her arms around Ava's waist.

"I don't want you to die." she hiccups "I don't want you to die. I don't want you to die."

It's the one phrase her brain can latch on. So she repeats it. Over and over again. As a place holder for the obvious 'I am so overwhelmed I don't know how to process it'

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

The action takes her by surprise, Bea's strong arms wrapping around her in a desperate attempt to keep her close, to hold onto her.

But the little chant she sais

shocks her even more.

This is the first time Bea has ever used a sentence that has both the words "I" and "want" in them. As a matter of fact this might be the first time Bea has ever expressed "want" in her entire life.

So she lays her hands on her. The crown of her head moving down to her shoulder, the back of her head, gently playing with the little baby hairs on Bea's neck.

"Bea..." Only noticing that Bea is silently crying when the tears soak through her pullover. "Let it all out, Bea." she whispers. Wishing she could just lean down and kiss her.

"I don't want u to die." Bea mumbles over and over. Only interrupted when a snivel makes itself known.

She doesn't know what to answer.

Clearly she doesn't want to die either. But it's there another way? That will 200% succeed?

"I don't want you to die." Bea's voice is thick, and raw.

"I don't want to die either." Ava mumbles, coaxing Bea's hands away to kneel infront of her again.

"I don't want to loose you Bea. I don't want to die." she moves her hands from holding Bea together by her arms to cupping her face with both palms.

She watches Bea take a breath, drown a sob, look away. She waits and watches and Bea is breathing in deep and Ava's heart is starting to beat against her ribcage with anticipation untill...

"You are.. You are everything I have" Bea's shaky hands come up to loosely wrap around Ava's wrists as the next words stammer out of her system "Please don't leave me - please don't die."

Ava just stares at her beautiful frekles, deep brown eyes oozing silent tears, making her own eyes water "I will try my best Bea." she leans forward to press a gentle kiss against Beatrice's nose. Red and freckled and warm.

"I don't want you to die." Bea breathes out. Shaky, and slowly, tightening her grip on Ava's wrists only a tad.

"Would you like to join me in bed?" the old trick she has used since the first night in Switzerland, using her thumbs to gently wipe the tears from bea's puffy cheeks.

The girl just nods, letting out a tiny whine when Ava's hands leave her steaming skin.

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

She watches as Ava stands and she watches Ava as she makes the bed and she watches Ava as she takes out two pairs of Beatrice’s softest pyjamas.

"Can I help you change?" her voice is so soft, and so gentle. And Beatrice hates the way it makes her feel. Hates the fact that this might be the last time she sees Ava.

Slowly she shakes her head, because apparently words won't come to her.

And she watches as Ava's eyes soften, if that's even possible, as she drops the set of pyjamas next to Beatrice.

"Ok. Please tell me if you need help. I'll change in the bathroom and come out when you are ready. Okay?"

Beatrice, in true Beatrice fashion, nods. Because her brain can't form words and because it's all just a string of jumbled thaughts.

When Ava disappears she takes her time to look at the soft texture next to her. Touching the pullover with her palm first to see if it makes her feel like she wants to rip her spine out and burn off her skin.

It doesn't.

It's feather soft under her touch, like it always has been.

She takes off the shirt she is wearing, and the undershirt, and the sports bra. Pulling the soft fabric over her head. It smells familiar. It smells like Shannon. Which is ironic, because it was originally Mary's.

The pants take longer. And she even considers not putting them on. Which is stupid ofcourse.

The feeling of her bare legs touching just - the raw thaught of it shakes her core.

So she weirdly pulls the wool pants on, without standing, because she nearly toppled over when she tried.

Her clothing sits undone, unfolded, in a heap of mess next to her.

She looks at it.

What would mother say?

She should fold it.

So she takes the shirt, hold it between her fingers. And just. Holds it.

Just fold it once, fold it a second time and lay it down. Come on Xin-Young it's not that hard.

Why can she imagine it but not pull through? Why can't she just fold a simple shirt?

Why is it too much? It's too complex, she can't muster the energy to fold it, she just... Looks at it. And imagines folding it.

It doesn't help.

So she tries the pants. And they are no better. Maybe a tiny part of her was hoping for the small success. But now another bigger part of her is upset over the litheral failure to fold her own clothing.

This should be easy. She does it every day, despite the enormous effort it takes her...

Why can't she just gather the energy to fold this stupid peace of clothing???

She sits on the bed. Holding a pair of black pants. Her knuckles are going white from the crushing force. It hurts.

She's sitting in the van. Holding Ava's bloodied jacket. Her crimson painted knuckles go white. She's holding onto this peace of clothing for dear life.

Ava's cracked open skull filters through her brain again.

Her knuckles are red and scrapped. Mother Superion reaches to touch them. It hurts.

"Ava" it's a whisper. She can barely hear herself. But her voice is so weak and shaky.

Ava is spread out on the floor. Left to rest and recharge after her brain got cracked open

Ava is gone.

No.

Ava is gone.

No!

"Ava!" it's louder. Not much louder. But she feels out of breath.

Ava doesn't answer. Her eyes are shut and her breathing is even but she doesn't answer and Beatrice feels like throwing up.

"Bea!" it's followed by the frantic clicking of the door and fast footstep that cross the room in no time.

She slowly kneels next to the sleeping girl. Eyes wide as she gently wipes a track of blood from Ava's temple.

"Ava?" it comes out choked, it's exactly how she feels "Ava I can't -"

The touch is gentle. So so featherlight. Beatrice carefully pulls the sleeping girl into her hands. Ava murmurs. Ava is alive. Ava is fine. Beatrice checks her pulse.

"Hey it's ok. You're ok, I'm here Bea."

'Stay' it's slurred and lazy and Beatrice wraps herself around Ava as if she's made of glass. She hold her close against her chest, shoulder digging uncomfortably into the hard ground of the van.

"Bea I'm here. You're safe."

warmth engulps her, Ava's warmth. And she frantically scrapes up towards it, clawing her fingers into Ava's back the best she can.

Fingernails digging into the soft fabric of Ava's pyjama. No. Beatrice's.

"Please don't go." she stammers "Please don't leave me." and she chokes on air again. Breathing in as much of Ava's scent as she can. "I can't -"

Ava's heartbeat is steady. She can feel the halo slowly humm to life. It's warm against her front as she holds the halo bearer. Still she keeps a hand on Ava's neck. Searching the pulse and holding it. Ava is breathing. Ava is fine.

Beatrice isn't

"Shhh-" Ava's fingers scratch against her scalp as she holds onto Beatrice "I'm not going anywhere Bea. I'm here." and Beatrice can feel the warm pulsing of the halo against her palms, leaking though Ava's pyjama and seeping under Beatrice’s skin.

"Can I help you into bed?" she whispers, Beatrice nods.

Letting herself half dangle off of Ava's shoulder help, neither comments on how Ava is holding up 70% of Beatrice’s weight. Not that any of them cares.

Slowly Ava helps her sit and she flops backwards onto their shared bed, rubbing at her itchy, glossy eyes as Ava climbs over her and pulls the blanket up.

"Ava -" she whines. Ava reaches forward.

"You remember Switzerland? When I woke up from bad dreams?" Beatrice nods, carefully breathing through her nose. Ungracefully snorting back the snot in her nose.

"The way you would hold me and tell me everything is ok?" Beatrice nods.

'It's ok Ava. You're ok. You're safe now.' she holds onto the halo bearer as the latter shakes. Let's Ava hide her heald nose into the crook of her neck as she combs her fingers through bloodied hair.

"I felt safe. Like. There's nothing that could hurt me. Like time is still and all evil is quiet."

Beatrice just watches her. Because in a month she might be here alone. And she can't handle that. The pure thaught makes her vision go blurry. Again.

The next few words are hesitant, nearly a whisper "Would you like to try it? It helped me, maybe it can help you too."

And Bea nods, because she wants to hold Ava and because she wants to be held by Ava and because she wants to stay here forever in their safe little bubble, protected from all the bad and judgment and pain.

She turns to her side, away from Ava, clutching the blanket and bracing herself for the incoming contact.

It's slow and the first touch makes her shiver, Ava's hand pulling away imidiately.

"Bea?" she whispers. Beatrice just shakes her head. Why can't she just let this happen?

Why is it so much easier to hold someone but not to let yourself be held?

She reaches over, silently searching for Ava's hand. When it's finally within her grasp she slowly drags it over her waist, feeling Ava move closer and curling around Beatrice. Front pressing against Beatrice's back.

"Is this ok?" Ava's warm lips peck a little kiss on her neck. Yes it's ok. It's not enough. It's fine. She needs Ava's arms to wrap around her. That's selfish and asking for too much. Ava said this will feel safe. Why doesn't it feel safe??

"Bea?" Ava's voice is soft. But Beatrice's heart is starting to pound against her chest. "Baby you're shaking." Ava whispers, moving closer

"I don't -" it shaky, and it's embarrassing, and she wants it to stop "Don't know what's happening." she stammers. Stammers. Like she's not supposed to.

"Why can't -" it's cut off sharply and she doesn't know why but it's frustrating and embarrassing and she's turning around, pulling away from Ava, "I c-"

Ava's eyes are soft. So soft. And brown. And there's a little fleck on her cheek that Beatrice wants to run her thumb over. "Why -"

And Ava is moving closer, which is scary for only a second. She's moving closer and she's alive and she's brushing her thumb over Beatrice’s skin.

She reaches over and she tucks a strain of hair behind Beatrice's ear. And she lingers for longer than she normally does.

"It's ok." she whispers and Beatrice takes a deeper breath.

"Do you have understand me Bea?" Beatrice just watches her, eyes glued to the curve of Ava's nose, to the shape of her eyes "We can talk about it tomorrow." and she's slowly coaxing Beatrice’s limbs to wrap around her.

"I don't want you to die." she mumbles into Ava's collerbone, as she presses into the soft warmth.

"Yeah-" Ava sighs.

Slowly she feels arms around her, warm and gentle and there.

She tightens her grip around Ava's waist and it's followed by a stronger hug. More powerful. More firm. More safe.

She tangles their legs and grips onto Ava for dear life, breathing in Ava's watermelon shampoo.

She finds the steady rhythm of Ava's heart pumping in her chest. And presses into it, clawing herself closer. It's like Ava catches the memo, letting her arms wrap around Beatrice as best they can.

"Is this OK?" Ava asks. And all Beatrice can do is give her a content hum, feeling a hand staring to scratch the base of her neck. Gentle nails scraping along her scalp.

It's still and quiet and you could hear a needle drop on the ground

It's so peaceful for a moment Beatrice can't hear anything but Ava's heartbeat.

For a moment Beatrice forget the destiny she's trying to rewrite and just absorbs the warmth Ava's body radiates.

"You are my favourite person Bea. I'm not going to leave you."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49566106

#warrior nun #sister beatrice #avatrice #writing #read it #my writing #ava silva #we saved warrior nun #Shannon Masters #Shotgun Mary #hurt!bea #hurt!bea agenda #hurt/comfort #fluff #Bea needs a hug

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