#secret sannie 2022
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page 1 and 2 of....i think 8 or 10 (or more, this has gotten away from me)
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happy secret santa, @thecousinsdangereux <3
#avatrice#warrior nun#ava silva#sister beatrice#secret sannie 2022#god that tag i hate it so#sometimes i draw stuff#wn hadestown au
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a beggar in the morning [1/?]
pairing: Ava/Beatrice (Warrior Nun)
rating: E
chapter word count: 7,066
chapter summary:
“Some people think a soulmate is the person God creates for you. Others say it’s the soul yours has been drawn to time and time again, throughout multiple lives. Some even believe that each pair was formed during the creation of the universe itself.” Beatrice looks up at the sky, as though she might find an answer somewhere in the long dead stars hanging above them. “I’ve always liked that one, actually; that the particles ripped into being alongside each other formed a connection that would last as long as our universe did. I’m not sure it makes much sense in practice. But it sounds lovely.”
“Less cruel, at least,” Ava murmurs, and Beatrice turns at the sadness in her voice, drawing in a sharp breath when she sees the emotion so amplified in Ava’s eyes. “Because a god who created the whole soulmates thing in the first place, told you that you don’t get one, and then made you spend your entire life telling other people about theirs kind of sounds like a huge asshole, if you think about it.”
Which is, of course, why Beatrice so often tries not to think about it. Especially when Ava is looking at her the way she is now and she’s reminded of all the things she’ll never have (all the things she desperately wants).
notes: Happy Secret Santa @maladyofthequotidian. I LOVE YOU and I hope this fits your dreams of Soulmate AU (where one of them thinks it's unrequited) + lots of Avatrice porn. chapter link: AO3
playlist link: SPOTIFY
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warrior nun, ava silva/sister beatrice, M, chapter 1/9
a secret santa fic for my glorious, patient, magnificent wife @smallandsundry who i have been explicitly lying to for two months now.
“I was told I would be able to meet with the chef this afternoon,” Beatrice says, as politely as she can manage. She’s meant to start working tomorrow and she hasn’t even met the executive chef yet, outside of traded emails where she was swayed by the promise of full autonomy into leaving her position as pastry chef at one of the only restaurants in the city with three Michelin stars for a fledgling fusion tapas joint sandwiched between a pierogi stand and a vape shop on the lower east side that got an upstart Michelin star in its first year of operation.
AO3
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