#dark!avatrice

[xenaisnumber1]

The strong, silent character who becomes an efficient killing machine when their girl is threatened.

[willowedhepatica]

Here's my humble offer to @lovelooksgudonu for the comic she drew about dark!ava. Of course the credit goes to her (and simplykorra) for parts of the dialogue she wrote, (I wanted to stay true to the source material)

Her art is absolutely amazing, go check it out if you haven't! (I hope this is okay, I got inspired)

—

The first thing that hits her when she wakes up is the stinging smell of sulfur. The distant remains of the fight that carried through in ash and dust, leaving her dazed and bewildered.

Ava had struck her in the back.

She hadn't even hesitated.

A chuckle comes from somewhere behind her and Beatrice shifts, the movement sending a sharp pain through her wrist and left arm. The rope is tied harshly, digging into her skin and keeping her there.

"That hit really did a number on you, huh Bea?"

Ava walks in front of her, brown eyes piercing. There's an easy smile on her lips, almost teasing, as if she found this situation amusing.

Beatrice leans forward, her voice hoarse. "Ava-"

"No. Don't give me that look." She cuts off, a sudden shift by the downturn of her mouth. She walks closer, leaning down to look at her properly, tied to the chair and bruised. "I've been merciful towards you, after all. Haven't I?"

Her hand comes up and takes a hold of her jaw. "You should be grateful."

The touch turns on several signals in her body at once. She sucks in a breath, the alarm battling with the craving of wanting more.

She hadn't felt her touch in so long. God, she'd missed it. Yearned for it.

But this wasn't her. This wasn't Ava.

"Snap out of it."

Her hold shifts, forefinger etching into her skin. "What was that?"

Her hands shake. They curl into fists as she looks up at her, meeting her eyes. "Snap out of it!"

Ava hums and for the first time Beatrice finds that she can't read her expression. Can't find any trace of the woman who showed emotions like the glow of a sun, drawing everyone in by her mere presence. She only shifts her hand, cupping her cheek as her thumb goes over her lip.

Beatrice can't suppress the shiver.

"Would you betray them for me?" Ava mumbles, face so close, breath skimming over her cheek, nail digging down into the flesh of her lip. It splits open with a sting of pain that slowly makes the blood spill out and drip across her jaw.

"Ah." Her voice cuts out and Ava's smile grows.

She leans even closer, teasingly drawing her nails over the part where her throat meets her jaw. "Yes?" It's a whisper. It's a lure. Her lips tickle against her own and she forces her to meet her eyes as Ava sinks down fully in her lap, keeping her jaw in a tight grip.

"You never were very talkative." She mumbles, her other hand trailing down her collarbone, her chest.

Beatrice tries to prevent the swelling in her chest, the pleasant tingling in her body over finally being touched.

"Let me make it easier for you." Ava continues, "if you say yes, I'll reward you. Shit, I'll even give you a little treat. If you say no however..." Her hand stops at her shoulder, eyes distant. She looks up at her. "What will it be?"

Beatrice thinks back to Camila, who had stayed up several nights in order to figure out Ava's position. She thinks about how much she's grown, how much she's overcome, how much they've gone through together.

She thinks about Mary and how she would scowl at the situation, telling her to not even dare make that decision.

She thinks about the OCS, the order she practically grew up in. It shaped her to who she was today. It took her through some of the worst periods of her life.

There had been so many sisters before her that had laid their life for the cause. For them. For her. She can't toss all of that away.

"I can't..."

Ava's jaw tightened. "Right. How could the perfect sister Beatrice ever do such a thing?"

"That's not-"

"Quiet."

Beatrice shuts her mouth. It's automatic.

The sharpness in her tone keeps her on edge.

"Maybe you'll come to better thoughts if I alleviate your pain a little." Her eyes fall down to her wrists where Beatrice is tugging against the restraint. "You'll never get anywhere like that."

"I'm fine." Beatrice bites out.

Ava tsk. "You're being stubborn." She brings something out from her pocket and her weight shifts in her lap by the movement. "I know you hurt your wrist in our fight, this will help."

She brings the pill up for her to see.

"I won't..."

Before she can finish Ava presses her thumb against her lips. This time they part open by the force and she continues by dragging it against the ridge of her mouth, scraping across the clench of her teeth. "We may not be on the same side yet, Bea, but that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt, baby."

Beatrice doesn't answer. In a way, she can't. Ava is still keeping her in a vice grip, a glint in her eyes that tells her she's planning to do something Beatrice won't be able to stop.

At least that part was still familiar to her.

Ava plops the pill in her own mouth, voice husky as she slowly inches forward. "Don't worry, I think you'll enjoy this technique..."

Before she knows it Ava's lips press against her own, mouth hot and tongue nudging to get more access. Beatrice gives in with a slight whine, feeling the pill slip inside. She swallows it and everything else falls away as Ava answers by pushing forward, body rising and kiss deepening. It's electrifying in the worst possible way.

"Mmm, see, the way you respond tells me you're not as restrained as you pretend to be."

Beatrice whimpers.

She wants more. She needs more.

She can't.

Finally - far too soon - not soon enough, Ava pulls away, resting her forehead against her own. She exhales, open-mouthed and smiling and when she speaks she's grown considerably softer. "The medication won't kick in for a while, would you like me to distract you some more?"

“Ava… please…”

She traces a path down her cheek. “Look how red you are, don't tell me you don't like this?” Her fingers skim across her ear as she tucks away a strand of hair that had gone loose. “Don't tell me you haven't thought of this ever since our time in Switzerland.”

Beatrice looks away, teeth clenching.

“Hm? Not speaking?”

“That's okay, let me show you just what I've been thinking about during my time across the arc.” Her hand leave her cheek and nudges at the end of her shirt. “You remember that night when we got drunk at the bar?”

Beatrice watches as her hand slip under the fabric and graze across bare skin. Her stomach ripples by the touch.

One nail starts to press down ever so slightly.

“Bea, answer me.”

“Yes- yes I remember.”

She smiles, satisfied. “I remember it too. I've had a lot of time to replay that moment.” She leans closer, close enough that her lips skim over her ear. “A lot of time to let it derail too.”

Ava doesn't wait for her to answer before she continues, nails scraping lightly across her skin. Like a game. “I thought. What if Beatrice noticed me? What if she knew that when I looked at her all I wanted to do was to let her pin me against a wall and fuck me.” She glances down to their position. “Looks like things have taken a slight turn.”

“Ava.”

Ava tuts. "Not yet. It was my turn, remember?”

If Beatrice knows Camila correctly, she's searching for her. She will find her eventually. She just needed a little more time, a little more information…

She shifts. "What more?”

“Excuse me?”

“What more have you thought about doing?”

Her eyes glint with slight surprise and then approval. “I'm so glad you asked.”

[hypertic]

(Dark) Ava is a master manipulator

I don’t think Dark Ava would be a weapon because she’s the halo bearer, she would be a weapon because she’s Ava.

She’s earned everyone’s trust and love, but she also has the perfect skillset to lie and manipulate everyone.

Just think about it: she’s spent 12 years where her connection with other people was her words and her face. It’s her only entertainment and, besides Diego, her conscience is her only company. She’s also pretty observant, since it’s one of the few things she can do.

12 years surrounded by people who despise her and think she’s a burden, clearly she must’ve developed a system: find a pattern, then their weakness, and say just what’s right to get what she needs, to get that one person to act just how she predicted.

It’s why she’s specially good at making the nuns mad, because for her it’s easy. It’s another skill, overdeveloped since there’s nothing else for her to do.

Of course, once she’s out into the world, there’s no need for her to play with people like that. Those people don’t hate her, they haven’t hurt her, and Ava can be free and enjoy every aspect of life she wasn’t able to. She can be genuine and open with her emotions.

So she’s sent back, evil and barely herself, but nobody knows that; nobody notices that. And so begins Reya’s master mind game, solely executed by Ava, and she does it perfectly.

No one would question Ava, who always wears her heart on her sleeve, who’s sacrificed her life for the OCS, and who’s just got back from one of the most trauma inducing places ever imagined.

(maybe her only weakness is Beatrice, the one memory Ava held on to for the longest time, the one they took every trick and power in Reya to wash away)

[snowandwolves]

so so so sO curious to know if you’ve heard of the uproar from the wn fandom about what the potential plotlines were for s3, especially concerning avatrice, from simon barry’s interview the other day? the whole concept of dark!ava and bea being the one to save her - penny for your thoughts? any headcanons that stick out to you :) ?

i have,,, been buried in work and literally only heard about dark!ava from a friend the other day bUT i also was like “ava??? sunshine and life and running on the beach and laughing from deep within her chest ava??? then dark ava???” i mean, alba could do it, no doubt. but also i’m just here thinking what if ava’s cognizant about the fact that she’s being dark the whole time? what if she’s aware that she’s hurting bea and can do nothing to stop it and then she just… starts crying while saying something like— actually you know what? i was never gonna post this but here’s the image that popped in my head the moment i heard dark ava:

[ava comes at her recklessly, without the finesse and the training beatrice knows she has because she had been the one who taught it to her. she’s moving so wildly that beatrice doesn’t know how she’s going to do this—save her—without hurting her.

“this isn’t all you’ve got, is it?” ava mocks her. “c’mon bea, you can do better than that.”

beatrice would have missed it, she thinks, if she hadn’t spent all that time in the alps watching ava, learning her, loving her. the desperation is subtle. an undercurrent. a whisper underneath the bellowing of foreign rage and hatred.

ava hasn’t been mocking her. she’s been begging.

ava starts crying around a sneer. “kill me if you can,” she dares. then, softer, quieter, “please.”]

K BYE

[bechloesupercorp]

bea having an irrational fear of the dark at night but bc theyre so in-tune w each other's emotions, everytime bea gets scared, the halo starts to glow, even if ava's asleep.

one night, bea wakes up from a bad dream and is staring at the ceiling in stilted silence -- the fact that ava wasn't asleep in her arms is already a bit of a shock -- and the halo starts glowing faintly, fighting off the darkness just enough. ava sleepily rolls over onto her front, half draped over bea and bea let's herself relax under her weight.

nothing can get her when ava's here. no monsters, no nightmares, no memories.

the ghosts are at bay.

[spencerreidswhore187]

Hymn for Her (5)

Ava x Beatrice (Warrior Nun) 

Summary: The discovery of a resurrected Ava, believed to be lost, sends ripples through Bea's reality, filling her heart with both joy and trepidation. However, the reunion takes a harrowing twist when Ava, transformed by otherworldly forces, becomes an unexpected adversary, unleashing violence upon the Order of the Cruciform Sword. Ava finds herself entangled in a relentless battle against the forces of darkness, the mystery behind her descent into darkness deepens. Meanwhile, Bea grapples with the conflicting emotions of love and despair, haunted by dreams that connect her to Ava's tortured soul.

T/W:  Descriptions of violence, blood and gore. Brief mentions of alcohol, guns and other weapons. Please let me know if I forgot to add something.

Word Count: 0.5k

Part One: An Unholy Darkness

Part Two: Echoes of Darkness

Part Three: Whispers in the Shadows

Part Four: Dance with Shadows

Part Five: Embrace of Light

Bea lay motionless on the cold ground. Torn and blood-stained, she appeared almost lifeless, a mere echo of the fierce warrior she once embodied. Ava, driven by fear, frantically pulled her body onto her lap, brushing the soft strands out of Bea’s face. 

"Bea," Ava breathed, the fragility of her plea hung in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of blood. "Please, don't leave me."

Barely clinging to consciousness, Bea managed a weak smile, her voice a gentle melody in the midst of the quiet chaos. "You did it, Ava. We did it."

Ava's trembling hands gently cradled Bea's wound.

"I can’t lose you," Ava confessed, her voice choked with the weight of emotions that the brutal reality of death had thrust upon her.

Bea's fingers, stained with the blood of battle, traced a soothing pattern on Ava's cheek, the touch a comforting reassurance in the stillness of the aftermath. "No goodbyes, remember?" she whispered, her voice carrying the comforting cadence of a familiar melody that spoke of enduring love.

Ava's tears fell freely as she pressed her forehead against Bea's, their breaths intermingling in the quiet desperation of the moment. “I love you.” 

While Ava clung to Bea, the halo began to glow with an ethereal light, casting a soft, otherworldly glow that seemed amplified by the sacred sword. The healing energy it emitted sought out Bea's wounds, its touch gentle and transformative, weaving a tapestry of restoration.

Regaining strength, Bea's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soothing warmth that permeated her being. The pain that had once gripped her body began to ebb away, replaced by a comforting sensation as if the very fabric of her being was being meticulously mended.

Unaware, Ava continued to hold Bea with a desperation that transcended the physical realm. The wounds on Bea's body closed, leaving only faint traces of the battles fought. The halo's glow intensified, its radiance now a testament to the unseen forces that guided their shared destiny.

"You saved me," Bea whispered, her voice carrying the weight of gratitude.

Ava, still immersed in her emotional turmoil, met Bea's gaze. "I thought…I thought I lost you," she repeated, the words a mantra of disbelief and relief.

Feeling the warmth of the healing energy that surrounded them, Bea reached up to caress Ava's cheek. "You found me, Ava. You brought me back."

Ava and Bea clung to each other in the glow of the fading halo. Bea smiled, the expression holding the warmth of gratitude and the undeniable strength of their love. "Whatever darkness you faced, you brought us back into the light."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Ava leaned down to press a tender kiss on Beatrice's forehead. The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow upon the sacred space, where Beatrice's fingers gently traced Ava's features.

"Do you still want me to teach you to dance?" Beatrice asked, the question carrying a hopeful note.

Ava's eyes, once filled with tears of despair, now sparkled with a playful glint. "Only if you'll let me show you how to drink."

Bea leant forward and pressed her lips against Ava’s. As they clung to each other, the courtyard seemed to breathe with a newfound sense of hope and a recognition of the unwavering resilience of a warrior nun who had faced the shadows and emerged into the embrace of the light for love.

A/N: Thank you for reading ◡̈

[trickarrows-bishop]

dark ava babe i think i go insane a little more whenever i think of you <3

[kahmontavanni]

A Luz e Escuridão (Wattpad e Spirit)

[summ3rhead]

Avatrice wings of desire AU: I know now what no angel knows [chapter 2/4]

Usually, when coming upon a body with Lilith, she would whisper a prayer, touch it, and move on. It was a rare enough occurrence and, since the soul had already long departed, there was nothing they could do. Now she stared, her solitude making her bold. She marvelled at the sight of the man, his mouth hanging open, fingers curled into loose fists at his sides in the water. The only sound Beatrice could hear was the gentle slap of water against concrete and the occasional distant cry of a bird – or a man. She placed a palm against his forehead and gazed and gazed.

There was absolutely nothing.

She understood then, how some people, upon seeing a dead body, would lose all belief in life after death. He looked so utterly empty, utterly abandoned.

Companion playlist link!

[lauraeveee]

À chaque chute, à chaque bousculade je m'enferme dans un mutisme terrifiant. Me faire mal ne me fais pas "juste" mal ça me bousille, ça me chamboule et ça change tout. À chaque chute j'ai peur de rester cloué au sol tellement la chute m'aura fracassé. Que faire ? Avec tous ces mouvements je ne peux que tomber.

[wordsmith30]

My whole life, people have tried to make me into something I’m not. To make me “normal”, or at least “acceptable”. I became skilled at so many things just so I would still have value. Despite my flaws… or what I’d been taught was a flaw. Of course I tried to fit in. But when you’re punished just for being different, you begin to  hate what you are. And what you love. What should make you happy… only brings you pain. Don’t hate what you are. What you are is beautiful.

KRISTINA TONTERI-YOUNG as SISTER BEATRICE Warrior Nun (2020–2022)

[daisychainsandbowties]

any avatrice recs :)))) have already read all your fics and now i am depression (genuinely daydream abt ur star wars au daily)

i could hype each of these fics individually but basically if it’s here i think it’s incredible and you have to read it 💖💖🥰

///

the sweetest taboo// 1930s au &

i know now what no angel knows// fallen angel au by @dumpsterfireofsubtext

indy au part 1 & part 2// or, ava peels an orange & makes me feel insane 🫠🫠🫠 by @estherthenormal

lemon drop boy// t boy ava au

lazarus woke with a kiss// scp/ lab rat ava au &

how to stitch holes in the sky// dragon age au, all by @the-darkness-does-not-bargain

teach me to love (as you have loved me)// this is. yeah. this is beautiful. newbea au by @birgittesilverbae (💖💖 ily)

beyond our space and starlight// eldritch au by @thistleation

escape attempt number whatever thousand, some hundred and four, probably// hades au by @foulbearobservation

do a flip// aikido gfs au by @sunsafewriting

if saints and angels spoke of love// (bea is a math teacher & ava’s basically the guy from dead poets society) by @mermaidandthedrunks

choose the devil i know (over the heaven i don’t)// firefighter au by @sapphicstacks

leave the light on (i’ll find my way home)// lighthouse au by @snowandwolves

on the run from a losing game// chef au by @fiddleabout

this must be the place// lumberjack au by @littledata

love thy neighbour// my fav roommates au. pokemon strap-on fic 😌🙏

turning sun into sugar, spinning straw into gold// pnw au by @gohandinhand

the world is just an illusion (trying to change you)// roadtrip au, &

a lover, or something of mine// reincarnation au by @smokestarrules

who needs comfortable love// sentient halo au by @the-ominous-owl

this celestial glow is blinding// firewatch au

the thought of high windows// 60s au

pull back the curtains for venus// alien bea au &

of greater marvels yet to be// fleabag au, all by @seabiscuits-us

[jtl07]

Shenanigans prompt - avatrice as queer superheroes, one is out, the other not yet...

hey anon, apologies on the delay here - caught a bit of a cold over the weekend; hopefully this reads alright. decided to lean on a previous shenanigan where Bea is a super and Ava is The Halo...

"Uh oh, we've got a level 5 thinking face. Who do I have to go rough up?"

Beatrice blinks up at Ava, still in costume and hovering next to her on the rooftop that was completely empty just a few moments ago. Or hours, considering the deep darkness of the sky. Beatrice frowns, not used to losing track of time. Then Ava's words catch up to her. "What do you mean level 5?"

"Like yknow," Ava says, flipping onto her side in midair, as if lying on a couch. She's somehow also procured a bag of gummy bears that she offers to Beatrice. Beatrice waves it off, looks at her expectantly. "Like hurricanes and stuff. Your thinking face is intense. Sexy though, don't get me wrong -"

Beatrice rolls her eyes, ignores the brief rush of heat to her cheeks. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're running yourself more ragged than any of the fights we had this week. And I dunno about you, but this week was shit." Ava flips over onto her stomach, hovers towards Beatrice until their face to face. "Cmon. Talk to me."

Beatrice sighs. "It's dumb."

"Probably not but I'm still listening."

"It's just -" Beatrice bites at her lip "Pride is coming up." It's hard to ignore, what with all the decorations, all the excitement. It's also why she and Ava have been working so hard lately, to make sure the festivities are exactly that: festive, joyful; safe.

"Yeah! Cam said she's got my new cape with the rainbow lining ready. I'm so excited to wear it," Ava all but squeals, wiggling still in midair.

"I'm excited to see it," Beatrice says - and she's telling the truth, she is.

Ava touches down quietly. Takes Beatrice's hand. "But?"

A deep breath shudders out of Beatrice. Followed by a tremulous want: "I just wish I could do something like that too."

The words hang in the night air, held in the quiet space between them. There's so much Beatrice wishes she could do, that she could be. She can do all the super things - fly faster than the speed of sound, leap tall buildings in a single bound - but when it comes to being normal; when it comes to being simply Beatrice -

"You can, Bea." Ava wraps Beatrice's hand with both of hers, surrounding it in warmth. "But only if you want to."

"But -"

"No buts." Ava's voice is firm. "There's no duty in this. It has to be for you first." She tugs gently on Beatrice's hand and brings her in close; cradles Beatrice's head against her shoulder. "We have time, Bea. There's no rush. And when you're ready, I know a certain journalist who can write one hell of a coming out story. I should know: she wrote mine."

Beatrice laughs softly into the curve of Ava's neck. Presses a light kiss there. "Thank you, Ava." For loving me as I am.

[unicyclehippo]

Hey, Ollie, you mentioned AGES ago that Show Me the Way Home (Avatrice) had a second chapter, it just wasn't perfect yet-- do you think you'll ever post it? Or is that officially an abandoned fic?

its not abandoned, i actually did some minor editing on it the other day. the problem is that its a very seasonally locked piece in my mind & also im lazy & also a perfectionist & also i want to watch wn again before i keep writing it bc i need to rmbr what the characters are like & basically any one of those obstacles are enough to shut me right down so.

it actually is a four part story & if u want, i can share a little with u now? maybe that'll make me feel better for not posting it yet lmao

thursday 22nd december

// 6:55 //

Beatrice stood by the doorway of her apartment, phone in hand and duffel bag at her feet, and wished she was already at her parent’s holiday home. 

It wasn’t that she thought their reunion would be simple or pleasant; it was more that today had started hot and was getting hotter and her parents kept their home at a crisp twenty-three degrees at all hours of the day and night, environmental impact be damned. As the humidity clung to her, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck, Beatrice’s thoughts drifted to the crystal blue pool and the ocean wind that would blow up from the cove and she checked her phone again for any word from her driver. 

Camila’s voice travelled from the kitchen. ‘Maybe you should take the can opener with you. I mean, what if you need to open a can and you don’t have one? There might be beans. Baked beans, cannellini beans, red kidney beans.’

‘I’m sure my parents have one. They do have a kitchen. And a personal chef.’

Camila heard her. The apartment was too small for her not to have heard but she continued listing off every tinned item she could think of. 

‘Lentils, obviously. Diced tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, peeled tomatoes, puréed tomatoes.’ There was a long pause. Beatrice wondered if Camila was reading the labels of what they had in the pantry; if she was, those lentils had been there for a very long time. ‘Tinned peaches.’

‘I think those come with a tab now,’ Beatrice pointed out. She kept her voice mild, not really wanting to draw Camila’s attention to her hiding place by the door. 

At some point over the last few days, the nerves buzzing under Beatrice’s skin had jumped ship and now Camila was the one pacing the confines of their apartment. She’d picked over every inch of the house in search of things Beatrice might need—which ranged from the useful, like the good phone charger she’d “found” (definitely hadn’t stolen out of her room a month ago) to what could be charitably called not useful, like the can opener—and now she stood at the end of the hall bearing the can opener and a dark frown befitting a serial killer. 

Beatrice cleared her throat. Carefully, she said, ‘I really don’t think I need it.’

Camila looked down at her weapon. ‘Oh. Right. No, sure, of course not.’ She tossed it backward into the living room; it missed the couch, landing instead on the floor with a loud thud, the sound of their rental bond being instantly halved. Beatrice winced. Camila seemed not to have noticed, though, and with her hands now empty she returned to chewing nervously at her thumb nail. She scanned the living room, hawkish, before fixing her attention on Beatrice once more. 

‘Can I help you?’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Camila…’

‘Because you don’t have to. You know that, don’t you? It’s not your only option—you could come home with me again! My parents would love it, we’d all love it, I promise. And you wouldn’t be intruding at all, I swear. The boys ask about you all the time and when you’re coming to visit again.’

‘They’re very sweet.’

‘Sweet! When they want something, sure! They’re still hoping you’ll teach them how to throw people—they bring up your match with Conner every time I call home.’

‘Tell them I’ll think about it.’

‘That can be your Christmas present for them. And Pop, he says you’re the only good one of the bunch.’

‘It’s because I don’t talk.’

‘I know. Poor guy. Christmas in a household of me’s. It’s so loud we have to mime everything for him.’

Beatrice smiled. ‘He turns off his hearing aids.’

‘What? That sneak!’

‘Don’t tell him I was the one that dobbed him in.’

‘It’ll be the very first thing I say—then you won’t be his favourite anymore and the rest of us will have a fair shot.’ Laughter shone in her eyes; it faded a little as she stared at Beatrice, gaze flicking down to the duffel at her feet. ‘I’m serious, Bea. You could call up your parents and tell them you’re not coming anymore. I’d prefer you tell them to go fuck themselves but.’ She sucked in a breath, shook her head. ‘Bea. Don’t waste your time on them. Spend your holiday with people who want you around. Who love you.’

It was a tempting offer. Of course it was.

From the day they met, Camila had been Beatrice’s friend; from the second, her sister. She’d gone out of her way to be all that a sister could be—kind, understanding, supportive, deeply irritating—and offered it all without cost. Her family was just the same. 

Beatrice remembered last Christmas fondly. The singing, the laughter, her chair squashed up to the end of the table next to Camila’s, the friendly chatter, the elbows bumping, the squabbles breaking out, the yet more guests arriving and pulling up a chair, the pass the salt, pass the butter, pass the damn water would you I’m dying over here, where’s the champagne, Arthur we don’t need another bottle of champagne it’s not even midday for Christssake, Beatrice do you want a second serve help yourself sweetheart, when do we open the presents. It had been loud, sometimes overwhelming, and wonderful all the same. 

But. 

Beatrice shook her head. 

Camila sighed. ‘I had to try, obviously.’

‘I know. Thank you.’ She set her hand on Camila’s wrist and squeezed. ‘I appreciate it, very much. Please tell them… Please tell everyone I miss them and that I’ll see them soon.’

‘You mean for your surprise birthday party?’

Beatrice smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Good. Because mum’s going to need a menu from you—’

‘I thought we agreed we’d buy the food, Camila, I’m not making your mum cook for me.’

‘She likes to cook for her kids. Unless you want me to tell her you’d prefer eating a stranger’s food over hers?’ Beatrice scowled at the bold threat. ‘That’s what I thought. Pick what you want and I’ll tell her. Better yet, text her yourself.’

‘If I know your mother, she has something in mind already.’

‘More like eleven somethings.’ 

They shared an identical grin. Camila’s mother had a small habit of going overboard for parties and events. A buzz broke the moment. They both glanced down at Beatrice’s phone. 

Mr. Morris I have arrived

Beatrice Thank you. I will be there momentarily.

Beatrice nodded. This was it. She slid her phone into her pocket. ‘Mister Morris is here. I should go.’ To Camila’s suddenly stricken expression, she soothed, ‘It will be fine, Camila.’ And, because she was not completely oblivious to Camila’s concern, ‘I will be fine.’

‘I know that. Of course I know that. But I want—you don’t have to be just fine. You should be having fun. You’re my best friend, Bea, I want you to be happy.’

Beatrice paused. She struggled for a moment to think of a way to explain the purpose of this holiday to Camila, explain her purpose, in a way that she would understand and accept. 

‘It means so much,’ she began, carefully, ‘to be welcome in your family. But they will always be your family.’

‘Bea…’

‘You and they are all beyond generous.’ She held up a hand to stop Camila interrupting. ‘I know they love me, and I love them. I do love Christmas with your family. It’s always wonderful and comfortable and fun.’ She paused, considering her words. ‘But this is - this is about me,’ she admitted with difficulty, and was rewarded for the effort when Camila softened. ‘I want to go. I need to find out whether I have a place with them or not. And I’ve been so uncertain of how it might turn out that I haven’t tried. But this invitation is an opportunity. One would like to make the most of.’

Camila grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close. Very intensely, she said, ‘Okay.'

'Okay? Just like that?' Beatrice asked, doubtful.

'Yeah. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t. It honestly makes me furious and a little bit sick to think of you going back to them. But I love you and I trust you and I want you to call me if you need anything. And whatever happens, Beatrice, you always have a place with me. Always.’

Beatrice smiled. Shifted so that she was the one holding Camila’s hands. Her friend wouldn’t let her go willingly and there was a big part of Beatrice that wanted to let herself be held tight and give in to her friend’s protectiveness, to be bundled safely up into Camila’s terrifying little car and trundling off to visit family. 

It was hard to pull free. 

Beatrice stepped back and opened the door.

‘There’s no need to fret, Camila. I’ll have Ava with me, remember?’

‘Yeah. I know. It’ll be great, you’ll see.’ The tightness around her eyes told Beatrice she didn’t quite believe her own words. ‘And you’ll call me.’

‘Every day.’

With one last hug, Beatrice picked up her bags and left. 

// 7:03 //

The town car waited for her outside the apartment. It was sleek and black, washed and polished; the only evidence of the recent storms were faint specks of grey mud deep in the tyre wells.

Beatrice stopped at the bottom of the stairs, observing the car and its driver—Mister Morris, patiently stood at the kerb—and swallowed around a lump in her throat. He looked the same as when she had left. A little more silver in his hair.

He might not have changed much but she had. Now that she was grown (or perhaps, now that she was not in that household), she found herself full of questions—where was it that Mister Morris had driven from? Where did he live? Had the storms been bad on his side of town? How had he passed the time? Had they lost power? (She and Camila had huddled in their living room—it was, Camila had insisted, the perfect weather for a marathon of gory slashers—and the rain had hammered against the windows with frightening strength but had done no damage. She knew others had not been so fortunate.) Most pressing of all, how had he been? Questions that could not be answered by hiding.

Beatrice gripped the strap of her duffel and, setting her shoulders, marched to meet him.

‘Good morning, Mister Morris.’

‘Miss Turner,’ he greeted her, his smile small but true. ‘A pleasure to see you again. How are you?’

‘Quite well, thank you.’ Then, keeping her tone light and brisk, ‘And yourself?’

‘Very well, Miss Turner. Very well.’ It looked as if he wanted to say something more but then he only smiled and cleared his throat. ‘Your luggage, Miss?’

‘I can see to it myself.’

Beatrice stashed her duffel in the boot then folded herself neatly into the backseat. Mr. Morris retook the driver’s seat. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Beatrice fixed her eyes on the headrest in front of her.

‘We have another stop to make, Mr Morris.’

‘Yes, miss. Do you have the address?’

‘I do.’ She ran a finger along the inside of her watchband, rubbing away the sweat that had gathered there. She made it a notch tighter, then loosened once more. ‘They are - That is to say, she is my—’

Mr. Morris met her eyes in the rear-view mirror. His were green and kind. The kindness did not make it easier to say.

‘She is my girlfriend.’ 

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Oh.’

‘Though your mother used slightly different terminology. Companion, I believe she said.’ He kept his eyes locked onto the rearview mirror. When Beatrice glanced into it again, he said warmly, ‘Congratulations, miss. That’s wonderful. I’m very glad to hear it.’

When she had been younger, there had been a stretch of time where running away had seemed very appealing. Each time she attempted it, Beatrice had never made it further than the park four streets from her home. She’d been too pragmatic, even at ten years old, but she’d also been stubborn so Beatrice had say there in the swing until someone noticed; whomever did notice, it was always Mr. Morris who collected her. She was reminded of it as he started the engine. The sound of its growl scared old memories out of hiding—she remembered how the plastic swing creaked, the feel of the metal chain in her little hands, how the gravel of the park entry had crunched beneath the town car tyres. How the headlights had washed over her and away with the tilt of his park and how invisible she’d felt when the lights turned off. Like a ghost haunting the playground.

Beatrice stared thoughtfully at his back, remembering how he would climb out of the car and sit next to her on a too-small swing until she’d been ready to return.

‘Thank you, Mr Morris.’

He nodded. Then, ‘I do still need her address, miss.’

‘Oh. Yes, of course.’

[pinechips]

My Avatrice Fic Masterpost

Multi-chaptered

Welcome to Elysium (on-going) - Pro gamer AU, Rivals with benefits, No angst (E)

Midtown 45th Street (on-going) - Roommate + How I met your mother AU, Avatrice's kids, Angst/Fluff (T)

There Were Glowing Eyes in the Dark - Vampire AU in a modern/fantasy setting, Angst with a happy ending (M)

Would You Be My Wife? - Fake marriage AU, Angst/Fluff (E)

If You Missed the Mistletoe - Hallmark AU, Childhood love, Romantic Comedy, Fluff (M)

Babysitting Miss Beatrice - Modern AU, Babysitter!Ava, Baby!Bea, Angst/Fluff (E)

Rhapsody in Chaos - Roommate AU, Silly, Relationship advice & miscommunication, Fluff (M)

One-shot

If You Missed the Mistletoe (Halloween Edition) - Sequel to the Hallmark AU, Comedy/Fluff (M)

Why Don't We Just Fall - Falling in love with a stranger AU, Inspired by photography, Fluff (T)

I Will Never Be Your Wife - Childhood friends with benefits AU, Angst with a bittersweet ending (M)

How to Measure the Thing Between Us - Modern AU, Dating AI, 1st POV (T)

In the Darkness of Your Embrace - Post S2, Dark!Ava, Sexual coercion (M)

Fractured Realities - Post S2, Dark!Ava(?), Light Angst (E)

In Each Other’s Shoes - Canon-based bodyswap AU (M)

*latest first

[bechloesupercorp]

---

she always sits in the same spot. furthest desk to the back, nestled between the shadows of looming stacks, face illuminated by a soft reading light. ava's spent enough time curled into the comfy armchair a mere few steps away to know the crinkle that sprouts between the girls brows during a particularly frustrating paragraph.

well enough to want to run her fingers over the soft skin and watch as a ghost of a smile appears on the girl's face.

every day, they share the same small smile as the first time.

every night, a steady hand lands on ava's shoulder when she inevitably falls asleep.

and she still doesn't even know her name.

---

on the twelfth day -- she's waited twelve whole days, and the tingles in her chest grow stronger every passing hour -- the girl's smile is more subdued, and alarms ring in ava's head.

cartoon bees fly to rest on the flowers in the book ava flits through, fingers flipping the pages, but her eyes are elsewhere.

the girl, slumped over her desk, head cradled in her arms. ava's heart melts a little more.

she keeps watch. fierce protectiveness washing over her at the soft exhales that travel like music in the silence. it reminds her of the book at the orphanage, the one about wandering the beauty of the flowers and the fields, only to return home.

what would a home be with her?

and to rest at the end of the night, with a whispered sleep sweet, bumblebee.

---

shadows dance as the sun dips below the horizon. the girl's lamp is the only source of light, like a beacon, drawing ava in.

"wakey, wakey," she murmurs, a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder -- even her sweatshirt is unimaginably soft. that adorable little crinkle making its appearance. god, she could just reach out her thumb and-

"huh?" the girl jolts, shaking away the sleep, "what time is it? i didn't intend to-"

"-read yourself to sleep?" ava finishes with a goofy grin.

there. that fond perplexed look that makes ava's heart shoot.

"i suppose," she says, packing her bags. "thank you," she pauses, waiting for a name.

"ava!" ava supplies, skin vibrating at the thought of a conversation that lasted more than two sentences. so much of their communication has been unsaid.

"ava," the girl echoes, and it sounds like heaven to her ears.

"you're welcome," she responds, waiting for a name but catching the way the girl's captivating eyes linger on her lips.

they stand there for a beat, entrancing in each other's presence, before the girl stammers out, "beatrice."

oh.

is that you, my bumblebea?

university au where ava likes to hang out at the library and soak in the knowledge so she doesn't have to go home to st. michael's.

bea is a serial workaholic, who studies late into the night.

one day, ava's shaking, trying to reach a book on the top shelf, and an arm reaches nimbly over her, and plucks it off the shelf.

their fingers brush and her heart stutters in her chest at the soft smile that the other girl gives her. then the girl is gone, ava is left wondering. she still wants the feel of soft, smooth, reassured fingers over hers.

---

two days later, she catches the girl sitting at a desk a couple feet from hers. they share a small smile, just for a second, and ava can't focus back on the book she was flipping through.

the library slowly empties out, and by the time it's dark, it's just the two of them. ava nods off somewhere between the fourteenth and seventeenth chapter.

she wakes up to a solid hand on her shoulder -- comforting, despite it belonging to an absolute stranger.

"the library is closing." it's the girl, the girl, and ava can't help the flutters in her chest, nor the grin that splits her face.

"i guess we better... book it then." she laughs at her joke, and is even more delighted at the bemused look the girl gives her.

god, she can't wait to come back tomorrow.