#i feel like Ava would more likely say this to Bea

[taikoturtle]

insp

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava x sister beatrice #i feel like Ava would more likely say this to Bea #but then when you think about it #Bea has killed way more people than Ava has I think #just even based off the two hallway fights alone #myart #warrior nun crack #i haven't drawn something in years

[simplykorra]

I’m going to make an “analysis” post about this two tiny shots/acting excellence from KTY because I think there is so much to it that it needs to be talked about.

The first one is this:

When Beatrice tells Ava she doesn’t want to go with Miguel and she’ll see Ava at home, there’s a sadness in her face, a longing plea to not pursue this - to stay in this tiny little bubble they’ve created. Where it’s just them against the world.

The more Ava reaches out to people, the more she sees of the world beyond the two of them, the more Beatrice is afraid Ava will believe what Beatrice believes about herself - that she isn’t good enough. Isn’t valuable enough. Isn’t useful enough.

Isn’t worthy of love, of Ava’s love.

Obviously, this is all in Bea’s head, Ava is in love with her already at this point, we’ve seen it here:

But to Beatrice, who Ava has pulled out of her shell so much in their time together, there’s still this part of her that is trapped in self-loathing - in the things she was told and the way she was treated growing up.

That she’s no good, that her love is wrong and that she is more of a tool than a person - while Ava has this light and energy that she could never reach or contain or be strong enough to hold on to.

It comes up again here:

When Ava comments on Beatrice’s “easy on the eyes” line, you can just see how it affects Bea. There’s this rift in Beatrice that you can feel throughout the first two episodes of season 2 - I think in this scene when Ava calls her out for her jealousy and makes this comment, it hurts Bea more than she says because it plays into the doubts in her mind that she’s too wrong, too tainted and too different to ever really have a chance with Ava.

Like if the halo and Adriel and the OCS and all of it fell away, why would Ava go for someone like her when she could have literally anyone?

It’s just little things (I could make a whole post about Alba’s acting choices too because they’re both so fucking talented it’s altered my brain on the importance of performance) but these subtle things are a part of what make these two and their love story so special.

#avatrice #warrior nun #avatriceedit #warriornunedit #avatrice analysis #?? #idk #ohlexa this post was inspired by your most recent edit so thank you jksflaslfjkas #also idk if any of this even makes sense.....

[wordsmith30]

I feel like we’d all kind of expect Ava to be the one to propose to Beatrice because she’s generally been the initiator, but you know what would be absolutely, heart-wrenchingly beautiful? If Beatrice proposed to her.

If our religiously-traumatized, painfully-repressed, baby gay Beatrice just let it build in her until she couldn’t hold it back anymore – because she loves Ava more than life itself – that she completely just bursts out, mid-conversation, unprompted, in the heat of the moment: “Marry me.”

And Ava just whirls around, wide-eyed, internal monologue gone as she looks back into those big brown eyes – at Beatrice stiff, scared, panicking, thinking, Oh God. Oh God –

And then Ava is squealing and crying, and jumping up and down; and she flings herself at Beatrice; and they fall to the ground in a tangled heap; and Ava just showers her in kisses, saying, “Yes! Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes –”

And they lie there together, Ava laughing through her tears as Beatrice is just moved beyond words. She just looks up at Ava and brushes her hair out of her face. Thumbs a tear away from the corner of her eye. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Ava cries, and she kisses Bea full on the mouth, both of them breathing together.

Ava, later, screaming through the convent: “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

#Avatrice #Warrior Nun #Ava x Beatrice #Warrior Nun fics #I'm just obsessed with them okay? #save warrior nun #wlw #Sister Beatrice #Ava Silva #sunshine gf x sunshine protector gf

[possibilistfanfiction]

anything surgeons au, especially butch!bea omg

[an accidental 2.7k words of baby tai for the culture]

//

you don’t ask for beatrice to consult on the case just because the baby really does look like her in a tangible way: brown eyes that shine in the sun; gold skin; soft dark hair; a happy smile. tai — an orphan, which you also don’t prioritize when you ask her, but whatever — is small for her three months and quite sick, a bad valve in her tiny heart doing more damage than good. 

it’s a difficult surgery, complicated and intricate and, even though you’re the best in your field, a hardcore rockstar, you’re not a cardio surgeon. you ask beatrice to consult on the case because, even if you’d never admit it aloud in front of her, she is the best in the world.

‘dr. villaumbrosia,’ beatrice says, meeting you outside the picu. she’s not operating today, you’re fairly certain, or at least hasn’t yet, based on her neat navy slacks and oatmeal-colored sweater under her white coat, chelsea boots certainly not what she would wear in the OR, her buzzed hair not hidden under one of her surgical caps, her wedding band still on her finger rather than tucked away, pinned to the inside of her scrubs. you’ve known her for years and years, have watched her fail and succeed and succeed and succeed, have watched her fall in love and get married, have watched her build a home, a life — which includes you, in all the ways that matter, in the ways you will very rarely thank each other for and feel anyway. 

but still, ‘dr. choi,’ you say, ‘thanks for coming.’

she nods. ‘it sounded like an interesting case from your summary.’ she takes the ipad you offer her and looks at the scans of tai’s heart, then her vitals, then the scans again, a little closer and with something like wonder filling her eyes, just at the corners but enough for you to feel a spark of hope in your chest. she looks up at you. ‘we can do this, i think.’

‘yeah?’

‘it’ll be —‘ she pauses, nods to reassure both of you, sets her shoulders, and you know that’s it — ‘it’ll be difficult, but it’s not impossible.’

‘agreed.’

‘can i meet her, then? the patient? i’d like to get an idea of how small this heart actually is.’ 

‘of course.’ you open the door and it’s just like any other consult; beatrice is always brave enough to partner up on any peds cases, even the most heartbreaking, the most hopeless. 

tai smiles at beatrice, who is always good with children the same way you are: you talk to them like human beings, and you listen, and you take things seriously — their pain and their fear and their recovery. tai is too little to tell you anything, but beatrice still leans toward her gently and smiles at her babbling, runs a gentle hand over her soft hair, makes sure to warm the head of her stethoscope up on her thigh before pressing it to tai’s chest. 

there’s no way for you to realize it at the time, but you will swear for years that you knew, even before beatrice and certainly before ava, that tai was special; beatrice closes her eyes and listens to tai’s failing heart carefully. ‘i’ll need an updated echo,’ she tells you and your intern, standing uselessly behind you. ‘and then, if you’re free afterward, dr. villambrosia, let’s meet in the skills lab? i’d like to run through the procedure.’

‘that works for me.’

she nods once, seriously. ‘no parents?’

you shake your head. ‘she’s here through my org, from chengdu.’

beatrice considers this briefly but soldiers on, like she and ava haven’t had quiet, sad fights about children and adoption and a family and a home. ‘if you feel comfortable, i can hand off my follow-ups this afternoon to dr. amunet and we can get this taken care of. it’ll be a long recovery, so i’d rather it not degrade any further if we wait.’

‘as long as the run-through feels good,’ you say, ‘i think it’s the best course of treatment.’

beatrice nods, smiles once down at tai and rubs her little chest while tai squirms and babbles happily. for such a sick kid — on oxygen and a feeding tube, two ivs because her veins are so small — she’s generally happy, bright in a way that peds usually isn’t. she’s not guaranteed to survive so, like all of your patients, you don’t get too attached. beatrice hasn’t had that problem before, either, caring but not too much, unlike ava, who feels each loss as if it’s his own. but the way that beatrice lingers and lets tai hold onto her fingers while she tells your intern exactly what she wants from the ekg and bloodwork — you think this might be different. 

/

it’s touch and go for a while: you and beatrice are brilliant surgeons but, even with all of the tests and scans and practice, tai’s surgery is longer and more difficult than you could’ve prepared for: her heart is weak and so, so small; even beatrice struggles to place the careful, clever sutures you’ve watched her throw with ease, most surgeries, and for years. it takes longer than you would’ve liked to get her off bypass, much longer than you would’ve liked for her heart to start beating again in beatrice’s hands. 

but: it does beat. weak and small, yes, but sure, and steady, and even, all the valves and ventricles ready to heal as they should be. tai’s cheeks, once she’s settled in the picu again, are rosy, her skin warm, her oxygen sats already up comfortably from before. you’d wired her sternum shut and the incision running down her tiny chest will leave a scar, and she’ll probably need another procedure or two as she gets older — but she will get older, as far as you can tell. 

beatrice goes through — a little unexpected for the aftermath of a successful surgery, and far beyond the end of her relatively easy scheduled shift — all of the potential complications tai could face, how she was without a flow of properly oxygenated blood to her brain for an amount of time that frustrated her — maybe even frightened her. for as long as you’ve known beatrice — dr. choi — through undergrad and medical school, then residency and fellowships, into your first few years as attendings, she’s as unflappable as they come, unless it’s someone she loves who might be hurt, who might not get well. you’ve seen it with ava and her back, and shannon and mary after a car accident that looked much worse than it actually was, and even one time camila got the flu. 

it surprises you in the moment when beatrice, carefully taking off her scrub cap — patterned with little otters and rainbows, a ridiculous gift from ava that beatrice horrifically wears with not a single ounce of hesitation or embarrassment — slips into her hospital-issued fleece quarterzip and sits down in the chair by tai’s bassinet once you and the nurses get all of her machines situated. 

‘i’ll stay with her, dr. villaumbrosia,’ beatrice says, soft and formal.

‘there’s plenty of nurses, and dr. amunet, if you want to go home.’

beatrice shakes her head and leans over tai’s sleeping form, heavily sedated for the next few days so she’s not in pain, and runs a gentle finger along her cheek. ‘she — she doesn’t have anyone,’ she says, as much explanation as you need. ‘plus, dr. silva is on call tonight anyway.’

you resist the urge to say something mean about ava; he’s actually very talented and smart and he makes your best friend, your sister, very happy, and very full — even if he is the most annoying person you know. tai is alone, and all beatrice has to go home to, right now, is a beautiful house that’s empty of all of the life ava brings anywhere, leftovers in the fridge, a house that you know has an empty bedroom just down the hall from the primary, holding a lot of ava’s patient, quiet hope in the space.

‘okay,’ you say, not bothering her, just this once: tai is very small and still very sick; you’ve read enough studies to know that comfort, especially with babies who haven’t known as much of it as they should, can be extremely monumental in their ability to heal. ‘i’m sure you can handle if anything pops up, but i’d like to know anyway. text me.’

beatrice looks up from tai to nod, a grim smile on her face mellowed, seemingly, by tai’s steady breaths against beatrice’s palm. ‘will do.’

you nod and don’t bother to ask for anything else from her, taking your leave while she takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes, then slumps a little in the chair but keeps her hand on tai’s stomach, soothing and warm and present. tai has been alone her entire life, even if it’s only been very short; you believe that her body will know that she’s not anymore, at least for now.

/

it’s not often that you choose to come to work early, not often that you allow yourself to have much attachment to patients and their outcomes beyond whether or not you practiced the best medicine possible — no one would be able to do peds and neonatal surgery if they did — but you park far before the sun comes up and force yourself to grab three cups of coffee from the cafe before you head to the picu.

it doesn’t surprise you when you see both beatrice and ava by tai’s bassinet now, beatrice fast asleep, slumped over fully on ava’s shoulder, and ava scrolling through an ipad, probably taking care of charting here rather than in her office. ava smiles up at you, never deterred by your grumbling or eye rolls, and, just this once, you smile back.

‘dr. silva,’ you greet. ‘how’s she doing?’ you ask, handing him the coffee.

‘totally steady all night,’ ava says quietly, sounding far too proud of a baby that isn’t even really beatrice’s patient, let alone theirs. ‘she’s really strong, even if she’s small.’

you look over tai’s vitals from the past night quickly and it’s true, she is getting better even faster than you could’ve hoped. ‘she is.’

ava smiles, then looks over at a fast asleep beatrice, a little aching. ’bea said she’s an orphan?’

you sit down next to them both and nod; you assume beatrice gave ava enough of the details. ‘we’ll work to place her with a good family once she’s recovered well.’ the warning is unspoken: don’t get too attached.

ava looks over at beatrice, who has spent the entire night asleep in the picu over a baby whose heart she massaged until it beat again in her hands. he nods. ‘yeah,’ he says, hopeful despite it all. ‘yeah.’

/

‘i — i can do it.’

‘dr. choi.’

‘no,’ beatrice says, ‘it’s fine. i’m on call tonight, and it’s good for her.’

it is, you both know it, but tai is healing and, if all goes according to plan, will be released in a week or two, hopefully to a family who’s equipped to care for her, to raise her gently and generously and well. beatrice — and ava, whenever they make up a very flimsy excuse — have been in tai’s room often, and you know they’ve grown attached even though you warned them not to. but beatrice taking her scrub top off and picking tai up gently, careful of her leads and her still-tender chest, and then holding her close and settling into a rocking chair. 

‘beatrice,’ you say, sitting down across from her. 

‘have you — has there been a family chosen?’

you’re not the one in charge of any of that, your contributions to the organization being both your sixth-generation-surgeon money and your sixth-generation-surgeon talent, but you know there hasn’t been a decision made yet. you shake your head. 

she nods. ‘we…’ she swallows, readjusts so tai is held even closer, her left ear close to beatrice’s heart. ‘i spoke with ava. a lot, actually. and, well, you obviously know i’m chinese; i can teach her how to speak mandarin and make mapo doufu and she won’t — she won’t miss that part. and ava knows about not having a family of origin, and he’s, like, the best. and,’ she continues, ‘we’re both surgeons. you know she’s going to need care now, but also her whole life, and i — i fixed her heart.’ she can’t even look at you, just looks at tai’s peaceful little face as her voice gets wobbly and she sniffles. 

beatrice, above all, means what she says. she’s maybe one of the least impulsive people you’ve ever met, agonizing for as long as you’ve known her over haircuts and new hiking gear and dinner reservations, as methodical as it comes when she practices medicine. 

‘i —‘ she looks at tai once more and then takes a deep breath and meets your eyes. ‘i love her.’

you know, more than anything, ava has made beatrice want to be brave. you let it sink in, let it hit you like a tidal wave of easy warmth, then really let yourself look at your oldest friend and every careful thing about her, lean muscles and long-healed scars, the most careful thing held against her chest — the same skin, bathed in the light of an easy sunrise. ‘well okay then.’

beatrice seems surprised, for a moment, as if you would say no, or doubt her, or discourage or argue. ‘really?’

you nod, brusque mostly so you don’t cry. ‘i’ll connect you with aja; she’ll be able to help you with all the paperwork. i’ll put in my recommendation, of course.’

beatrice adjusts tai so she can free a hand to wipe a few tears. ‘thank you, lilith.’

‘let’s just hope she takes after you, not ava.’

beatrice laughs, and it makes tai smile.

/

‘no.’

‘she’s —‘

‘your daughter,’ you say. ‘you’re not tai’s doctor any longer, haven’t been in months.’

beatrice frowns, arms crossed. ava smiles far too serenely for your liking next to her.

‘she’ll be fine, babe,’ she says. ‘it’s just a post-op, super normal.’ she turns toward tai, happily squealing at a nurse playing peak-a-boo with her while they get her situated on the exam table. 

beatrice glowers but concedes, softening immediately when ava squeezes her bicep. they’re both definitely exhausted but happier than you could’ve really imagined; the empty bedroom now filled with a plethora of toys and clothes, colorful animals on the walls, a safe crib with a space mobile you’d personally given them. it makes sense to you, easily, that they’re good parents — kind and attentive and funny — even if, right now, they’re driving you insane. they’re both in comfortable clothes, not bothering with anything more on their shared day off. 

you have to physically shoo beatrice away as you’re listening to tai’s heart, which is ridiculous because you’re sure beatrice does it at home, probably every night. you’re more relieved than you would ever let on that her heartbeat is normal and steady — perfect, as far as you’re concerned. you go through the rest of her check-up and she’s as healthy as can be, gaining weight well, rolling over, holding her head up, starting to eat baby food — yes to bananas; no to green beans so far — not sleep regressing as much as they’d feared. 

‘she’s doing great,’ you reassure. 

‘fuck yeah she is,’ ava says, then sighs. ‘before either of you start, first of all, language is all relative.’

‘ava, we can’t have her first word being f—‘

‘— secondly,’ ava interrupts, then looks at beatrice putting tai back into her dinosaur onesie, slipping a warm cap onto her head, ‘she’s the best baby of all time.’

‘she is wonderful,’ beatrice says, still a little reverent.

ava elbows you as beatrice carefully pulls socks onto tai’s feet. ‘one of the better ones i’ve met,’ you concede, because you really do love tai, and, all things considered, she’s an easy, happy baby. ‘certainly better than i thought would be possible with either of you.’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘i read your recommendation.’ horrifyingly, she starts reciting it, so you move as quickly as you can.

‘i have a tight schedule today,’ you interrupt, beatrice laughing quietly, smiling at both of you with far too much amusement.

‘bye lil,’ she says. ‘thanks for everything.’

‘yeah, yeah,’ you say, but there’s no bite to it. ‘see you at dinner.’

#wn fic #avatrice fic #avatrice #surgeons au #i don’t often imagine them as moms but oh boy when i DO #tai … i love her. lilith also loves her #butch bea 🥺🫡 #a mom!!!! #if u rmb how zola was adopted in grey’s anatomy no u don’t but also objectively better w queer ppl 💁 #also sorry if u know things about medicine. in the spirit of grey’s anatomy #it is merely a plot vehicle here lol #also yes lilith does peds bc she is HARDCORE

[littledata]

I know you’re probably working on those prompts, but I, too, just ended up on North Sea tiktok, and if you have time, I’m curious what Ava’s reaction to that particular algorithmic destination would be. Because like, Bea’s the most capable person ever, but those waves are Very Big, and why isn’t everyone tethered to the boat at all times??

(From the on that dizzy edge universe. An example video if anyone would like context.)

For a long time, Ava's TikTok experience was predictable. It mostly went: hot girl biting her lip, hot girl playing guitar, hot dude baking a cake, weirdly mesmerising crafting video, drama about people she'd never met, hot person kissing another hot person.

The number of straight-up thirst traps has been on the decline recently though - mostly because Ava just has to turn her head and Bea will be changing her shirt or using a hammer or standing perfectly still, all of which is a lot hotter than any video she's ever seen. In its infinite wisdom though, The Algorithm has seen her scrolling past those videos and decided it needs to fill the void with something else.

That thing, apparently, is North Sea TikTok.

They're lying in bed when it happens for the first time. Beatrice had spent the first few weeks after she came home insisting they should try to maintain separate bedrooms, move their relationship along at an orderly and appropriate pace, but she pretty quickly gave in to the allure of spooning and her bedroom defaulted to being both of theirs.

Now, before they go to sleep, they often end up lying side by side while Beatrice reads one of her insane books about lesbian necromancers or whatever and Ava scrolls TikTok or reads fanfiction about hot people falling in love in coffee shops and stuff. It makes her feel mature and settled and safe in a way that's sometimes so exciting she has to take Bea's book out of her hands and make out with her about it.

Anyway, so they're doing that (lying in bed, not making out) when it shows up on her for you page. It starts with the weird, slow sea shanty, then there's the huge waves, and then someone is getting slammed in the face with the fucking ocean.

Ava lets it loop. Then she lets it loop again. Then she taps on the suggested search north sea tiktok and she's presented with a thousand more videos exactly like the first. People falling overboard and huge waves crashing over ships and and and -

"Bea." Ava taps her arm insistently.

Bea looks up from her book without much concern - she doesn't use TikTok but she does submit to being shown Ava's curated favourites. Also, she's wearing glasses and she looks super cute.

No, Ava, don't get distracted.

"Bea," she repeats and holds her phone up to her face.

Beatrice watches with a scrutinising gaze. When the video finishes, she says, "They really shouldn't be filming in those situations, it's distracting them from proper safety precautions."

Ava stares at her. "That's all you have to say? They could have died."

"Possibly," Beatrice agrees. "Once someone falls overboard it's very difficult to recover them, although certainly not impossible. And it depends a lot on the kind of ship. I assume someone wouldn't post a video where someone died though."

Although Beatrice's naivety about what people are willing to post on the internet is adorable, Ava's mind is stuck somewhere in between the words overboard and impossible. Even Beatrice, careful and capable as she is, couldn't keep herself from being swept off her feet by some of those waves. Ava can picture her so vividly, disappearing under the surface.

"You're not making me feel better about this."

"Oh." Beatrice blinks in surprise as if she has only just realised that they aren't having a purely practical discussion. She puts her book carefully down on the nightstand. "I'm not sure what to say. I can't lie to you and pretend it isn't dangerous. Those are cherry-picked clips showing the worst though, it isn't always like that."

Which, yeah, okay, Ava already knew it was dangerous. For all the months that Beatrice is away she lives with the low-level, prickling anxiety that the next call she gets will be telling her Bea is hurt, or worse. It's different seeing it though, seeing how quick it is, how powerful -

"How often are you in the north sea?" she asks, as if that's the only problem with it.

Beatrice winces, "Well, it depends. The contracts I work - " She explains something complicated and lengthy about shipping and demand and the company she works for and Ava thinks she's the most interesting person in the world but this stuff is, also, a little bit boring and she's still pretty busy picturing her girlfriend's imminent death.

She needs to send these videos to Camila. If there's anyone she can rely on to overreact with her, it's Camila.

"Ava," Beatrice says, seeing that she's lost her. She tugs Ava's phone gently from her hands and puts it down next to her book. Then she wraps one arm around Ava's shoulders and the other around her waist and pulls her in close.

Ava has always loved being hugged by Bea, even before they got together - she's strong and solid and lets Ava hold on for as long as she needs to. (Also, she smells fucking amazing, like, all the time).

It wasn't until they started dating that she realised Beatrice had been holding something of herself back though, not letting herself relax entirely whenever they touched. Now, it's as if her whole body sinks into it, like some tension evaporates the moment Ava's arms are around her.

Ava pushes her face into Beatrice's chest and inhales, lets herself hide there in the fabric of her shirt for a moment. It's dark and warm and hard to worry about anything.

"I promise I do everything I possibly can to come home safe to you," Beatrice says into her ear, "I'm sorry I can't give you any more reassurance than that."

"Okay," Ava says, voice muffled against Beatrice's chest. It's not enough but it has to be enough. This is Bea's job, the thing she loves more than anything else, and Ava won't ever touch the sanctity of that. "I'm still going to worry about you."

"I know." Beatrice presses a kiss into her hair and pulls back, "I worry about you too though, when I'm gone."

Ava rolls her eyes, "The most dangerous thing that could happen to me is Lilith finally snapping and turning on everyone she loves."

"So fairly likely then?" Beatrice asks.

Ava snorts, "Like a 90% chance."

They settle themselves to go to sleep, lying down fully and adjusting the pillows and blankets. That's another thing Ava learned recently: Beatrice - her big, tough sailor - likes being the little spoon. She won't admit to that, obviously, but she sighs contentedly whenever Ava wraps her arms around her from behind.

So when Beatrice reaches up to switch the lamp off, Ava does just that, presses herself against Bea's back. She listens to Beatrice's breathing become slow and even, and she clings on.

#extra writing #asks

[willowedhepatica]

"Do you love her?" Camila asks and it makes Beatrice grip the mug tighter. She works her jaw, staring into the leafy tea water that had already run cold. She would drink it anyway.

"I've only known her for six months."

"She's very charming."

"She is." Damn it, she is. "Even Lilith has gone soft. She let Ava go on a long monologue about whales and their mating cycle yesterday, it was quite amusing to watch."

"Beatrice."

Beatrice straightens automatically, her eyes shifting forward.

Camila's eyes are soft when they finally land on her. "It's okay."

"What?"

"To love her."

"I don't–"

"Oh, but you do."

Beatrice frowns. She doesn't know if it is because it scares her or irritates her. "How can you be so certain?"

Camila laughs, light and knowing like she just asked something ridiculous. Beatrice turns away. It was a serious question.

"You know a couple of days ago when we were at that party?"

Beatrice nods.

"Ava dragged you out on the dancefloor with all those people and loud music and sticky floors and you had only eyes for her. Even when someone bumped into you it didn't seem like you cared."

It had been a great night. She could remember how much Ava was laughing, her smile growing even bigger when Beatrice accepted her request to dance. She couldn't say no to that.

"She's very persuasive..."

Camila nods. "She is."

"I didn't want to disappoint her."

"You know you wouldn't do that. Even if you said no."

Beatrice humms. "What's your point?"

Camila takes a sip from her drink, sets it down. "You let Ava take you out of your comfort zone. I've never seen you smile more than these last few months and..." she gestures forward, "you're kind of glowing, even for how clishé that might sound, it's true. You can't deny it."

"I–" Beatrice clamps her mouth shut, leans back in the chair. "It isn't like that, it's... I don't know if that's true..."

"Why?"

"She makes me ache." She mumbles, almost without thought before she whips her head up as the panic wash over her. "It's not, I don't–"

"Bea, it's okay." Camila reaches forward and places a hand on hers but Beatrice draws away. She smiles anyway, a little sad this time. "Tell me. Tell me how she makes you feel."

It's a lot. Too much almost. Beatrice clench her hands into fists before unclenching them again. Takes a deep shuddering breath before speaking. "It hurts." Her lips twitch down, she shakes her head. "She makes me feel full." Of what? Everything, too much, not enough. Beatrice absent mindedly strokes her hand over her chest, puts pressure. "It feels like I'm going to burst. And yet..."

"And yet?"

"It feels like I could bear the pain. Over and over, every second I'm with her I could bear it. Every second I'm with her, it hurts less."

"That sounds an awful lot like love." Camila says. "Are you scared?"

"She makes me feel brave."

#wn fic #warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #my writing

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Ava’s fingers brush the edge of the envelope in her hand, Beatrice’s name written in her neatest handwriting in the middle. As soon as Ava had seen the card, she knew it was perfect, perfect for Beatrice, perfect for them.

It’s only Valentine’s Day, a small blip in the grand scheme of things. It’s a minor holiday, a commercial celebration of love that Ava wouldn’t usually bother with, something she’d never thought she’d even have the chance to celebrate.

But this year she has a girlfriend, she has Beatrice, she’s come back from the dead, again, and she wants to celebrate the woman she loves.

So caught up in her own thoughts, Ava misses the slight creak of the floorboard behind her, jumps when hands land on her hips

“Jesus,” Ava says, hastily pushing the card away, now half hidden under a loaf of bread as Beatrice’s arms curl around her stomach.

“Sorry,” Beatrice laughs, the sound warm as she drops a kiss to Ava’s shoulder in apology. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ava can’t really be too upset with Beatrice for sneaking up on her, not now that Beatrice is hugging her from behind, all warm and soft in the best possible way.

“What are you doing up so early?” Beatrice asks.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ava counters, though she’s the anomaly here, it’s not often she’s out of bed before Beatrice, and never this early. But she’d wanted to make this morning special, wanted to bring Beatrice coffee in bed, wanted to give her the card she’d picked and show Beatrice once again how much she means to her.

“I woke up expecting cuddles but you were gone.”

Ava immediately spins in Beatrice’s embrace, dislodging Beatrice’s arms in the process. Ava loses her train of thought for a moment, too busy taking in Beatrice’s slightly dishevelled state, her hair a mess from sleep, her shorts not quite straight as they sit on her hips.

She’s struck once again how lucky she is to have this, to get to see Beatrice like this. Through everything, against all odds and despite all the shit that’s been thrown at them, she gets to see a sleepy Beatrice, standing barefoot in their kitchen, looking so utterly beautiful that Ava’s heart skips several beats.

“Are you okay?” Beatrice asks, eyes darting over Ava’s face. She reaches out, fingers brushing some of Ava’s own messy hair behind her ear.

God, Ava really loves her.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

“I’m great,” Ava grins. “Even better for the fact that you just admitted you like cuddles, that you’ve actively come looking for me so you can have said cuddles.”

Beatrice rolls her eyes. “I’ve never denied liking cuddles before.”

Ava shrugs, still grinning. “It’s also just cute hearing badass Beatrice say the word ‘cuddles’.”

Beatrice presses her lips together, but Ava can tell she’s trying not to smile too. “So that’s why I’m up early, but why are you up so early?” Beatrice asks.

“I was originally going to make you breakfast in bed.” Beatrice’s eyes widen in alarm, Ava holding up her hands so she can finish. “But,” Ava continues. “I realised how bad of an idea that would be after last time, so I was just going to bring you coffee in bed, but I had to be up early because you wake up stupid early. I haven’t made the coffee yet but I do have this for you.”

Ava reaches blindly behind her, hand hitting several things before she feels the card. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bea,” Ava smiles, tilting forward to press a quick kiss to Beatrice’s cheek before she holds the card out in the small space between them.

“Oh,” Beatrice says, clearly surprised as she looks down at the card between them. She eyes it for a long moment before she slowly reaches out and takes the envelope. “Thank you,” Beatrice breathes.

Ava watches in silence as Beatrice opens the envelope and slips the card out.

Beatrice laughs when she sees the front, and Ava smiles. She’d been slightly worried Beatrice wouldn’t find it funny, or would’ve expected something a bit more serious.

They’re both in uncharted territory here, figuring out how to navigate this new relationship together. It’s barely been a month since Ava’s been back, since the portal had opened again and Ava fell straight out and into Beatrice’s arms.

But here they are, learning what it’s like to live together and love each other and learning that they both get to be happy.

“Where did you even find this?” Beatrice asks, holding up the card for Ava to see, like she didn’t spend ten minutes in the store after she saw it, trying to decide if she should buy it.

The card has a cartoon bumblebee on it, the words “Bee, Mine” big in the centre.

“It’s perfect, right?” Ava grins. “And it’s even better because you’re ‘Bea’ too.”

“It’s perfect,” Beatrice agrees. “And yes, I’ll bee yours.”

Ava feels positively giddy as she laughs, shifting from foot to foot, too much excited energy to stand still. But she does because Beatrice leans forward and kisses her and all of her energy directs into the kiss instead, her hand curling around Beatrice’s neck to pull her closer.

Ava’s knees go weak when Beatrice’s tongue slips into her mouth. This may be her first Valentine’s Day, but it’s definitely going to be hard to beat.

“That’s some kiss for six thirty in the morning,” Ava breathes when Beatrice pulls away. Ava tries to follow but a hand to Ava’s chest stops her. “Fine,” Ava pouts, getting the idea. “I know we have training this morning but could I interest you in a sick day? We could go back to bed and-,” Ava wiggles her eyebrows. “-cuddle.”

“Actually, about that,” Beatrice says, fingers playing with the hem of Ava’s shirt. It’s a little distracting so Ava takes Beatrice’s hand, tangles their fingers between them. “I wasn’t really sure if we were going to be doing anything for Valentine’s Day, I wasn’t sure if I should get you anything, and I know I should’ve just talked to you about it but-“

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Ava cuts in. She didn’t realise how much this had been on Beatrice’s mind. “I know this is new to both of us, but I just wanted the chance to make you feel special and tell you once again how much I love you.”

Beatrice smiles. “I love you too. But I did get you something.”

“Oh.” Warmth spreads through Ava’s chest. It makes her feel stupidly happy that Beatrice put thought into this too.

“Not a physical thing,” Beatrice continues. “But we don’t have training this morning. In fact, we have nothing to do all day, I talked to Mother Superion and she agreed to give us both the day off.”

Ava’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“So, we can do whatever you want. I was thinking we could spend the morning here and then this afternoon we could go and explore that market in town you told me about last week and then I’ve booked us reservations for dinner.”

Ava suddenly feels like she might cry. “You did all of that for me?”

Beatrice squeezes Ava’s hand. “It’s slightly selfish, because I want to spend the day with you too.”

“Thank you.”

Beatrice bites her lip. “It’s not too much?”

Ava smiles as she shakes her head. “No, it’s perfect. I can think of nothing better than spending the day with you.”

Beatrice crowds into her space again, erasing the gap that she’d created between them. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ava.”

Ava’s free hand reaches up to play with the collar of Beatrice’s sleep shirt. “If our morning consists of us staying at home, can we go back to bed?”

“You just want to cuddle,” Beatrice teases.

“Among other things,” Ava winks.

Her words get the blush Ava had been hoping for, but she doesn’t get to tease Beatrice again because her girlfriend cuts her off with a kiss.

(For the next year, Ava thinks nothing can beat this Valentine’s Day, but when Beatrice proposes on the next one, it becomes her favourite day).

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #avatrice fanfic

[call-me-maggie13]

It’s a Tuesday when Lucia calls the first time. Beatrice is leaving her apartment for a run when her phone rings, interrupting her favorite part of the song she’s listening to on her headphones. There’s no caller ID, but Beatrice recognizes the number, so she answers.

"Hello, this is Beatrice." She’s formal. Lucia likes to try to blur the line between a professional relationship and a friendly one.

"Hey, Bea - "

"Beatrice." She corrects, dropping to her knee to retie her laces.

"Yeah, Beatrice." Lucia’s mocking her, Beatrice isn’t stupid, but she lets it go.

"Is there a reason you’re calling?" Beatrice asks after Lucia goes silent.

"Right! Yes! Carlos misses you, I was wondering if we could do lunch sometime this week so he could see you?" Carlos. Beatrice loves Carlos. He’s fun, witty and charismatic and kind. He’s always been one of her favorite kids she’s worked with. Lucia, however, is one of Beatrice’s least preferred parents.

"I don’t know if you remember, but I’m in - "

"In the city. Yes, I remember. Carlos and I just moved here too! Isn’t that exciting?" No. Beatrice thinks. Exciting is not a word I would use. Lucia drops her voice, nearly to a whisper. "He’s having a hard time making friends at his new school, I think seeing a friendly face would make him feel better about the move."

Beatrice sighs, checks the time on her watch and realizes she’s spent half of her allotted running time on the phone with Lucia.

"I can’t do lunch, but I can do an early dinner. Maybe Thursday? I’ll have to - "

"Yes, perfect! That works!" She hangs up before Beatrice can tell her she will be bringing Diana. She could send her a message, but that would mean Lucia would message her back and Beatrice doesn’t want to speak to her anymore than necessary.

Beatrice tells Ava about it that evening, between Diana’s snack and her bath while Ava’s scrambling about looking for the keys Diana hid.

"Who is this again?" Ava looks up from digging through the couch cushions, cheeks flushed and hair tousled.

"It’s a kid I used to work with before I started uni. Him and his mum." Diana giggles around her fingers when Ava looks under the couch, Beatrice bouncing her and asking where the keys are quietly. Ava’s asked her three times, Diana isn’t answering either of them. "It’s okay if you don’t want - "

"No, it’s fine! It sounds fun, just - make her eat something other than chicken strips, please? You always say you will then you cave when she pouts. She needs to try new foods." Ava looks under the coffee table and through Diana’s toy bin. She’s going to be late if she doesn’t find the keys soon.

"Okay. I won’t have her out late, we’ll be back before the sun goes down. Won’t we?" Beatrice tickles Diana who squeals and pushes away, nearly toppling out of her arms. Beatrice grabs her leg to keep from falling and her shoe falls off, jingling when it hits the ground. Diana glances between the fallen shoe and Ava for a moment before she starts giggling maniacally.

"They were in your shoes? Are you serious? Diana, you little…" Ava picks the keys out of the baby shoe, holds Diana’s face between her hands and sighs fondly, shaking her head. "You little punk." Ava laughs and kisses both of her cheeks. "I love you. Be good, yeah?"

Diana smiles and wipes her wet hand down Ava’s cheek. Ava grimaces and rubs her cheek against Diana’s sleeve, earning a full body laugh and a gleeful wiggle. Ava presses a soft kiss against Beatrice’s cheek before she’s gone. 

Beatrice almost considers going after her, almost considers asking her to say no, almost considers telling her she doesn’t want to go. But she doesn’t. 

She doesn’t.

 Read more below the break or here!

Beatrice stops for the third time. Considers turning back. It’s not too late, she can still say she can’t make it. Diana bounces beside her, swings their intwined hands back and forth. She spins, twists Beatrice’s fingers over her head before dropping it and racing around her.

"Let’s go! Let’s goooooo!" Diana whines, taking her hands and tugging her forward. "I wan’ nuggies!"

"It’s want, baby. Try again." Diana pauses to pout, tucks her hands under her elbows and sticks her bottom lip out. Beatrice quirks her eyebrow and fights back a smile. "Try again."

"I. Want. Nuggies." She pauses between each word to huff, spins on her heel to take two steps forward then turn back to Beatrice with her head cocked.

"Okay. But I will have you know, your mama wants you to try something else." They resume towards the restaurant hand in hand, Beatrice’s blunder already forgiven and forgotten. "Like maybe something not chicken?"

"No. I like nuggies." Diana pouts again, gives her tiny chin a tremble to prove her point.

"If you try something else, we can get ice cream on the way home?" Ava would never barter with Diana like this and she would be upset if she knew Beatrice was doing it.

"Sprinkles?" She comes to a complete stop, nearly causing the people behind them to crash into her. Beatrice nods and scoops her up, apologizes quickly to the strangers and hurries down the sidewalk.

It really is unfair, how late they are because she couldn’t decide if she actually wanted to come. Carlos probably thinks they’re not going to show up, the thought stabs her in the chest and speeds her steps. 

"Beatrice!" The boy bolts down the sidewalk and crashes into her legs, nearly tackling her to the ground. Beatrice chuckles and ruffles the boy’s unruly curls.

"Hi, Carlos! How have you been?" The boy steps back and flips her hair out of his face, grinning at her with a gap in his teeth. "Oh! When did you lose that tooth?"

"Last night! The tooth fairy gave me fifteen bucks! Look!" He presses up onto his toes and pokes the empty space with his tongue. Beatrice peers into his mouth intently, inspecting it with the same fervency with which he presents it. "Who’s this?"

"This is Diana! Diana, can I introduce you to my friend Carlos?" Diana shakes her head and buries her face in Beatrice’s shoulder. "That’s okay, you don’t have to talk to him until you’re ready."

"Beatrice, hello!" Lucia steps up behind Carlos, strokes Beatrice’s shoulder, her hand lingers. Beatrice shrugs it off awkwardly.

"Hello, Lucia." Beatrice takes a half step back and a deep breath, forcing a smile and turning back to Carlos. "So, I’m hungry, are you?"

"Yeah, we already have a table, right, mom?" Lucia confirms and leads them to the booth while Carlos launches into a story about his friend’s birthday party. "So then, I told Marley, dude, you can’t just say stuff like that. People are going to think you’re weird. But like. People already think Marley’s weird because she tells everyone she was named after a dog. But it’s okay that she’s weird because it like. It’s not weird when she does it. You know?"

"I do! I know someone like that." Beatrice smiles fondly as she thinks of the last time she’d been to the farmers market and Ava spent twenty minutes deciding which lemon looked the sourest. "Have you ever read Stargirl?"

"Yeah! Marley is just like Stargirl! It’s her favorite book!" Carlos bounces in his seat. Lucia places a hand on his knee to still him.

"Sorry, he’s got a little crush." Lucia winks and Beatrice has to bite her lip not to snap at her. He’s eight. He’s allowed to have friends of the opposite gender. Carlos deflates at her words, sinks into his seat and drops his hands into his lap.

"It sounds like you found a really cool friend. Is Marley a friend from school?" Carlos nods weakly but doesn’t look up from his hands, Beatrice frowns. Diana stops scribbling on her menu to look at him quizzically, dropping her crayon to turn to Beatrice with her head tilted. "Have you decided what you want?"

"Nuggies," Diana whispers and Beatrice grins bemused, Diana rolls her eyes and sighs, pushes the menu to Beatrice and climbs into her lap. "Read, please?"

Beatrice reads the children’s menu to her quietly, answers her questions when asked and offers suggestions when Diana struggles to decide. She settles on macaroni and cheese, with much exasperation and disgust. Beatrice gives their orders to the waiter when he checks on them.

Lucia keeps rubbing her foot up the inside of Beatrice’s leg, somehow finding it even when she moves. Beatrice scoots to the far edge of the booth and silently begs her to stop. Diana seems unamused at every attempt Lucia makes to initiate a conversation and Carlos doesn’t recover from his mother’s comment, it’s truly awkward and uncomfortable and Beatrice can barely contain herself when they get their checks.

"Why don’t we go to the park?" Lucia suggests as they step out of the restaurant, Carlos’s face lights up as he waits excitedly for Beatrice’s reaction. 

"Umm… I don’t know, Diana seems pretty tired, maybe some other time?" Beatrice bounces Diana in her arms, presses a soft kiss against her temple.

"Dada?" Diana whispers and curls into her neck. Beatrice hums and presses their foreheads together. "He sad?" Beatrice nods softly and Diana turns back to him. "We play a little. Okay?"

Carlos bounces and nods, taking the hand Diana offers him.

"Dada?" Lucia asks, bumping their shoulders together. Beatrice takes a step to the side.

"Uh, yeah. I actually don’t like when people touch me, Lucia. So, could you stop, please?" Beatrice’s cheeks burn as she says it and Diana presses a cold hand over the heat.

"Ah, but I’m not just people, yeah?" Beatrice barely dodges the arm Lucia tries to swing over her shoulder by leaning to set Diana on the ground. Diana takes her hand and tugs her forward, Beatrice welcomes the distraction and follows her happily to the swing set, offering to push her when she climbs into the seat.

"I can do it!" Carlos volunteers and Diana beams at him, squeezing her fists around the chain and laughing when he pushes her forward. He bounces in place at the response, and Beatrice has to bite her tongue every time he asks Diana. "Higher? Higher?"

She knows her limits. Beatrice tells herself. She knows when she wants to stop.

She stays nearby, just in case. Ready to pounce in and save her if she asks to stop and Carlos doesn’t. She’s chewing on her nail when Lucia sidles up beside her, expensive perfume making the inside of Beatrice’s nose itch. Lucia tries to pull her hand out of her mouth but Beatrice steps away, curls her hands under her elbows and tucks them into her side.

"So how long have you been working with her?" There’s a hint of something else just beneath her words, something burbling and churning and dark.

"Oh, I don’t." It’s true, in a sense. Beatrice has stopped accepting Ava’s money in exchange for her babysitting services. So Beatrice isn’t quite lying when she says it. It’s not the entire truth but she hopes it’s vague enough that Lucia doesn’t press.

Of course, she could be granted no respite because Lucia charges ahead full-steam.

"Oh, so is she like your niece? Friend’s kid? Who is she?" She’s fishing, trying to find the answer to a question Beatrice isn’t ready to face on her own, certainly not with someone the likes of Lucia.

"Mine. Yeah, she’s mine." Diana tumbles out of the swing and Beatrice’s heart stops in her chest. She waits two heartbeats before moving, slowly helping Diana brush he wood chips from her face. She forces her voice to remain calm and level so Diana doesn’t hear how much it scared her as well. "Are you okay?"

Diana bursts into tears, throws herself face first into Beatrice’s chest and squeezes her arms around her neck as her body is wracked with sobs.

"Oh, baby! I know." Beatrice rubs her back and picks her up, smiling sadly at Carlos when he tries to apologize. "It’s alright, buddy, she’s just scared. I’ll see you again soon, yeah?"

The boy nods enthusiastically and Beatrice feels Diana lift her head to wave goodbye to him sadly before she returns to her hiding spot in Beatrice’s neck. Beatrice squeezes her tightly, rubbing her back as they depart, stepping quickly across the street and pausing outside the nearest ice cream shop.

"Do you still want ice cream, my love?" Beatrice’s hand pauses on the door, waiting until Diana shakes her head and burrows herself deeper into Beatrice’s embrace. "Can I check to make sure you’re not hurt?"

Diana sniffles as she pulls away, allows Beatrice to seat them on a nearby bench and check her face and hands for injury. She finds none, despite the overall redness from her fall.

"Does anywhere hurt, baby?" Diana shakes her head and blinks tears out of her eyes. "Hey, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. What happened was scary, it’s okay if you feel like you need to cry. Would it make you feel better if I told you it scared me too?"

"You scared?" Diana’s voice is painfully infantile, reverting to a similar pattern of speech from when she first started speaking. Beatrice kisses her forehead and nods.

"Yeah, kiddo. I thought you were really hurt and that really scared me." Diana tucks her thumb into her mouth and blinks at her slowly. "I get scared a lot, you know?"

"Whens?" Diana curls back into her chest and Beatrice hums in thought for a moment.

"Like when your mama got sick. When you run off and I can’t see you. When I have exams at school. Sometimes I get scared when it storms and the thunder makes the windows rattle. I get scared all the time, my darling." Beatrice hates being scared, she feels like it makes her stupid and irrational. She knows that fear is a valid emotion and it exists for a reason, but she has never quite managed to shake her parents’ voices from her head when she’s scared.

She hopes Diana never has to experience that.

She’ll do her best to ensure Diana never has to experience it. 

"Do you know what helps me when I get scared?" Diana nods against her chest, curling her fingers around the neck of Beatrice’s shirt. "Sometimes I count all the pretty things I can see. Sometimes I sing a song until I feel better. Or sometimes I take some deep breaths. Do you want to try one of those?"

"Count?" Beatrice hums, squints and looks around.

"The sky is very blue today. What about you?"

"Flowers." Diana points to the wildflowers clawing out of the cracks in the sidewalk, then to a pair of birds chasing each other through the air. "Birb."

"You," Beatrice nudges her softly, smiles gently when she lifts her head tearily, "You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen."

"I love you." She stumbles over the v sound, pronounces the word like lub with a tender smile

"I love you too, meu patinho." Beatrice kisses the top of her head. "Did you at least have fun today?"

"Carlos is funny."

"He is. Would you like to see him again?" Diana hums and mumbles into Beatrice’s neck. "I didn’t understand that, darling, could you say it again?"

"Yeah. We go home now?"

"Alright, we can go home now. Are we going to tell your mama about how much fun you had with your new friend?" Diana yawns and shakes her head, Beatrice watches the sun dye the clouds pink and purple. It’s still early for Diana to go to bed, but she’s had an eventful evening so Beatrice could make an exception to their schedule. "Can we at least tell her about your not chicken nugget dinner?"

Diana giggles but nods regardless, twists a lock of Beatrice’s hair through her fingers. Beatrice’s heart swells and her skin warms and she feels like her heart might explode when she looks at the little girl in her arms. Something inside her twinkles. She never expected a love like this. Something that plays her heartstrings like a symphony in her chest, fills her chest with a light no star could ever compete with. It’s endless, she realizes.

It makes her wonder if her parents ever looked at her the same way she looks at Diana.

~*~

Ava does not like Lucia.

She’s not jealous. That would be absurd.

But she can’t deny that her chest burns when she comes home and Diana regales her in their latest adventure with Carlos and Luisa — it doesn’t matter how many times Beatrice corrects Diana, she only refers to Lucia by the wrong name.

Today, they played tag with a group of kids at the park. Two days ago, they saw a movie. Last week, they went to an art class at the library.

Ava doesn’t have a reason not to like Lucia.

Except for every reason Beatrice gives her after every play date.

"So then she kept trying to take my hand, like we’re a couple or something and every time I would pull my hand away and tell her I wasn’t interested but she doesn’t care." Beatrice sighs and kicks her feet over the arm of the couch, stares up at Ava from her lap. "I don’t understand why she keeps trying to touch me. I don’t like when people touch me. I’ve told her I don’t like being touched at least two million times. It’s annoying."

The hand scraping through Beatrice’s hair pauses at her words, Ava barely pulling away before Beatrice whines and drags her hand back to her scalp.

"Why’d you stop?" She doesn’t give Ava a chance to answer, instead continuing her rant. "Regardless, she made a joke about me confusing Diana by allowing her to call me dad. Which is hilarious because last week, she tried to get Carlos to call me dad and I had to respond with my name’s Beatrice, pal, I’m not your dad. Then Lucia was all well, you’re not Diana’s dad either. And I swear, Ava. I swear I almost hit her. Who does she think she is? I mean, seriously."

Ava is certainly not going to ask the difference between her and Lucia, doesn’t ask why she’s allowed to play with her hair nor why Diana is allowed to call Beatrice dad while Carlos is not. She knows, on some level. Ava’s not stupid, she knows she gets a version of Beatrice Lucia will never see. She knows there’s a piece of Beatrice that is reserved exclusively for her. She knows Beatrice would choose her, if she forced an ultimatum between her and Lucia.

Ava knows.

She knows how she feels about Lucia is irrational and unfair.

She also knows Beatrice would never see Lucia again if she asked.

She knows. Right?

"Bea?" Beatrice stops her rant and tilts her head up. "Does it bother you when I do those things?"

"No. Of course not. Why would it?" Beatrice pushes herself upright, shifts until she’s practically sitting in Ava’s lap.

"Because it bothers you when Lucia does it." Ava looks away,

"You’re not Lucia."

Ava doesn’t know how to explain herself. She doesn’t have the words to express why that doesn’t make sense. Beatrice babysat both their children, has spent extensive time with both of them, read both their children to sleep, eaten at both of their tables. Why is she different? Why is she the exception?

Or is Lucia the exception? Is Beatrice like this with all parents except for Lucia?

"Ava." She quirks her head, furrows her eyebrows, ducks to meet Ava’s averted gaze. "I trust you."

It’s not enough. The words make Ava’s heart skip a beat, but it doesn’t smother the smoke in her lungs.

"I like spending time with you. I like when you hold my hand and kiss my cheek and make me laugh. I like when Diana calls me dad. You’re not just the mother of the child I babysit, you’re my friend too. My best friend. I would tell you if you did something that bothers me and I know you wouldn’t do it again.

"I like you." She grins before scrunching her face up in mock disgust and continuing. "I don’t like Lucia."

It makes Ava laugh, Beatrice's pout miserable and nose crinkled. In response to the sound, Beatrice smiles widely, leans back into Ava's chest, and tucks her nose into the crook of her neck.

~*~

She’s doing it on purpose. Beatrice might not be great at reading people but she is certain that Lucia only wants one thing from her. One thing that Beatrice has absolutely no interest in ever giving her.

Diana crawls inside the enclosed slide, tucks her knees to her chest and closes her eyes when Carlos finishes counting. He grins from the top of the playground, peering over the sides and searching for Diana.

"God, they’re so cute. We would be amazing parents." The comment is accompanied with an arm around her shoulders and a soft sigh. Beatrice ducks out from underneath Lucia’s touch and frowns at her, eyebrows sewn together with utter confusion.

"Would be?" Beatrice might not be Diana’s actual parent, but she sure as shit isn’t a bad understudy. 

"I meant like… like together. Both of us."

"I’m doing pretty great with her mother, actually. I don’t think Diana needs anyone else telling her what to do." It makes her stomach twist, the thought of Lucia and her, together.

Lucia laughs at her words, loud and jarring and it makes Diana lift her head from her hiding place on the slide. Carlos sees her move and races to tag her without even acknowledging his mother. Lucia tries to touch her again and Beatrice’s fingers burn when she clenches them into fists at her sides.

"Stop. Touching. Me." She clenches her jaw and takes another step back.

Beatrice doesn’t do anger. She doesn’t do rage. She doesn’t do losing her temper. Beatrice is patient and and forgiving.

Or, as Shannon would say, she’s a pushover.

Either way, Beatrice doesn’t get upset easily. It’s not in her nature.

Lucia seems to take it as a challenge. Like Beatrice’s burning ire is a taunt, like it’s all for show and they’re playing a game.

"Oh, relax, Bea."

"My name is Beatrice."

"Plenty of people call you Bea."

"Only the ones I like." She takes another step back when Lucia reaches for her hand before turning on her heel and storming away. She smiles warmly at Diana when she approaches her, strokes her hair when she tumbles into Beatrice’s legs. "We gotta go, patinho. Your mama’s gunna be home soon."

Diana frowns but wishes Carlos and Luisa farewell, taking Beatrice’s hand and tugging her out of the park.

Beatrice decides not to tell Ava about Lucia anymore. Every time she complains, Ava gets quiet and distant and Beatrice doesn’t like how upset it makes her sometimes. So she decides she will suffer in silence.

~*~

Shannon is easy. She’s easy and relaxed and she goes with the flow. She doesn’t pick fights or start problems.

Except when it comes to Beatrice. Shannon would commit eleven different forms of high treason and treat the Geneva Conventions like a checklist for Beatrice.

"Where are you going?" Beatrice freezes with her hand on the doorknob.

"I’m going with you. You better hurry or we’re gunna be late." Shannon bumps Beatrice carefully out of the way and steps through the door, starting toward Beatrice’s car.

Beatrice doesn’t say anything the entire ride. Diana sings and dances and talks to herself in the backseat while Beatrice grips the steering wheel with all her strength to try to hide the way her hands are shaking.

The house is larger than Shannon had been expecting. An ugly modern, blockish thing with funky shaped windows and uneven roofing. It doesn’t look good or fancy or pretty. It looks like a stain on the skyline.

Like it brings her neighborhood property value down.

There’s a bounce house set up in the front yard, though it’s empty. There are children’s shrieks coming from the backyard, a cacophony of voices and laughter leading Beatrice around the side of the house to the garden gate.

"Hey! Bea! You made it!" Lucia tries to dive into a hug after letting them through the gate, but Shannon intercepts by throwing herself between them and offering her hand to shake.

"I’m Shannon, Beatrice is my sister." She’s silently begging Lucia to say something, to give her an excuse to punch her.

Other than all the reasons Beatrice has given for her.

"Oh. Do you not remember me? We’ve met, years ago." Shannon remembers, it was a scene much alike the one they’re in right now for Carlos’s third birthday. Lucia had annoyed her even then, but she hadn’t made any advances on her baby sister, so Shannon hadn’t really a reason to hate her.

"Sorry, I meet a lot of people in my job, only have the mental capacity to remember a few of the important ones and my personal favorites." If there’s one thing Shannon has learned from her mother, it’s how to make an off-handed comment that slices through someone’s soul. Lucia’s face falls but she doesn’t respond.

"Beatrice! Diana!" A minuscule little girl breaks free of the crowd waving, followed closely by Carlos. He’s older and much taller than the last time Shannon had seen him, and he’s wearing more than a diaper, but it’s certainly him.

Immediately, he’s offering his name and his hand for her to shake, introducing her to his mother and his best friend Marley.

He’s taken Diana to an inflatable slide before Shannon has a chance to ask where to put his present.

"Why don’t you put the gift with the rest and Bea and I can - "

"I’m good. Beatrice can put it with the rest. You and I can do whatever you need her help with, though." Beatrice squeezes Shannon’s fingers when they exchange the gift, a meek nod and tight smile before she’s disappearing into the crowd.

"Oh, I need Bea’s help."

"I taught Beatrice how to do everything she knows. If she can do it, I’ve probably been doing it better for longer." Lucia sighs and shakes her head, rolls her eyes when she turns away and enters the house.

"Hey." Beatrice ducks out from behind a group of young parents chattering loudly over their drinks.

"I don’t like her."

"You don’t have to treat her like that." Shannon laughs and slings her arm over Beatrice’s shoulders.

"When she calls you the right name, I’ll consider being nicer."

"No you won’t." Beatrice smiles and rolls her eyes, presses heavily into Shannon’s side.

"I said consider. I never said I had any actual intention of doing it." Beatrice laughs and searches for Diana in the line for the slide. She can’t deny that her heart stutters when she can’t immediately find her.

"Da!" Diana waves from atop the slide, smiling until she looks down. Beatrice extricates herself from Shannon and moves to the bottom to wait for Diana, who appears to have no intention of moving.

"Are you scared?" Diana nods softly, eyes wide and wet. Carlos crawls beside her and offers his hand, whispering quietly. Diana shakes her head and pushes away from the slope, dropping his hand. "I’m coming up, okay?"

Diana meets her at the top of the ladder, arms raised for Beatrice to pick her up.

"It’s okay. Do you want to go down together?" Diana shakes her head again and balls Beatrice’s shirt in her fists. "Alright, we will have to climb down though. We can’t live up here, can we?"

Diana shakes her head, lifts her head warily and glances to the ladder. "Carlos has cake."

"I can ask mom if we can cut it now." Carlos waves at someone near the base of the slide. "Do you want me to ask? I’m gunna go ask."

And with that, he’s gone.

Beatrice pushes as far away from the slope as possible so other children can go, holds Diana and pats her back until she lifts her head and turns to watch some of the kids jumping and falling down the slide. She blinks slowly, thumb tucked carefully between her teeth.

"Do you want to try again?" Marley bounces and waves while she waits her turn in line. Diana lifts her head slowly and waves back but doesn’t respond to Beatrice’s question. "You don’t have to but if you would like, you can sit on my lap and we can go down together."

Beatrice motions for the girl at the top of the stairs to go, squeezes Diana tighter when she flinches at the girl throwing herself haphazardly down the slide. She watches quietly as more and more kids go and Beatrice is beginning to think she’s going to change her mind when Marley finally emerges from the line. 

"Carlos said they’re gunna do the cake soon, do you wanna climb down with me?" Marley offers her hand but doesn’t try to push Diana, she waits. Diana glances between her and Beatrice warily, fist squeezing tightly around the neck of Beatrice’s sweater.

"We can all go together, but it’s up to you, patinho." Diana nods and makes no move to follow Marley down the steps.

Carlos calls for them from below but neither of them move, Marley offers a cursory glance but doesn’t respond when he calls her name.

"Dada?" Diana buries her head in the crook of Beatrice’s neck, Beatrice hums and squeezes her tighter. "Scared."

"I know. It’s okay to be scared, Diana. Everyone gets scared."

"I’m scared of the dark and vampires and multiplication," Marley chimes, crawling to them. "But the sun still goes down and vampires aren’t real and my mom makes me do my math homework. You can do things that scare you."

"Okay," Diana nods and takes Marley’s hand.

"You wanna go down?" Diana nods and tugs Beatrice’s hand.

"Do you want me to hold you?" Diana nods again and Beatrice agrees, moving to the edge of the slide and letting Diana settle in her lap. "Are you ready?"

"No." Beatrice squeezes her closer and Diana takes a deep breath. "We go now."

For the first time, Beatrice looks down the slide and her stomach drops. Why is a kid’s slide so tall?

"Dada. Now." Beatrice nods and pushes off, squeezing her eyes closed and trying not to scream at the plummet. When they hit the bottom, Diana squirms out of Beatrice’s arms and bounces to the exit when Shannon is standing bemused.

"Was it fun, kiddo?"

"No. Cake?" Shannon laughs and watches her race off to Carlos.

"You alright?" Shannon pulls Beatrice up, helps her out of the slide. "I thought you were going to wet yourself."

"I’m fine. It was great. Ava’s supposed to do the high stuff," Beatrice jokes.

"The high stuff? It was a kid’s slide, bumble Bea."

"I hate you, you can leave." Lucia looks up at her jeer, eyes l alight with something that drains the warmth from the moment. Shannon glances between them and steps in front of her to block Beatrice from Lucia’s view.

"I’m not leaving until I get cake." She says it loud enough for Lucia to hear before turning to Beatrice and dropping her voice. "Let me say something, Bea."

"No. Shannon, it’s his birthday."

"So? You know I wouldn’t say anything to him."

"Shannon." Shannon rolls her eyes and turns back around just in time for Carlos to blow out his candles.

"Why won’t you let me do this for you?"

"Because I remember the last time you did this for me. And we both know you don’t look good in stripes or in orange. If you think about it, I’m actually protecting you." Beatrice watches Diana waiting to get her piece of cake and glances at the back door to the house. "I’ll be back, can you - "

"Is she gunna do a flip?" It’s Beatrice’s turn to roll her eyes, sighing fondly before slipping through the door in search of a bathroom. Luckily, Lucia had the foresight to plaster directional signs on the walls so Beatrice doesn’t have to search hard. 

Lucia is leaned against the wall waiting for her when she comes out.

"Saved you a piece of cake," Lucia straightens and extends a slice of cake.

"Oh. Thank you, but I’m not very fond of sweets." Beatrice smiles politely and waves the cake away, glancing past Lucia in the direction she had come.

"Oh that’s fine. I have something else for you too." Beatrice doesn’t like the way Lucia smiles at her.

"I should really get back to Diana…" Beatrice glances down the hall again, hoping Shannon somehow knew she needed her and materialized to rescue her.

"It’ll only take a few minutes. Diana won’t even notice." Beatrice jerks away when Lucia tries to take her hand.

"No I really - "

"Hey, Bea…?" Shannon. "I think we should go…"

Diana’s holding a racecar napkin over her elbow. It’s stained a deep red.

"Oh my god, what happened?" Shannon slaps her hand over Beatrice’s when she tries to move the napkin. "Are you okay?"

Diana nods and shifts toward Beatrice so she takes her, Shannon fixes her with a look that Beatrice doesn’t understand but she follows her out of the house anyways. They wish Carlos a happy birthday in quick farewells before leaving.

They’re halfway to her car when Shannon speaks.

"I knew she would try something."

"I was gone for two minutes, what happened?"

"I saw her follow you." Beatrice stops and turns to her.

"To Diana. What happened to Diana?"

"Oh. Nothing, she’s fine." Shannon lifts the napkin to prove her point, revealing a red stained, uninjured elbow. Beatrice scoffs and rubs the red dye away with her thumb.

"What did you - "

"Fake blood. You can buy it by the gallon at a Hallow-"

"You just carry around fake blood? Shannon!" Beatrice pauses to reinspect Diana’s skin, double-checking she has no injuries before fastening in her car seat.

"I knew you would need an out and Mary never lets me use the fake blood. Come on, you gotta admit that it - "

"I don’t have to admit anything. Don’t use Diana like that, she’s not a prop." Beatrice closes Diana’s door carefully before turning to face Shannon.

"You wouldn’t have left if it was me bleeding." She right. Probably. Truthfully, it would’ve depended on how much fake blood Shannon was willing to use.

"I didn’t need an out, I was fine." Beatrice starts to storm around the car when Shannon grabs her wrist.

"Fine? Beatrice, you looked like you were going to throw up. Maybe I could’ve gone about things differently but I don’t like her. I don’t trust her."

"You don’t have to like her or trust her, I do."

"Do you?" Shannon drops Beatrice’s arm, watches her walk around the car and climb in the drivers seat.

"Do I what, Shannon?" She knows. It’s answer enough for both of them to know.

Shannon doesn’t respond.

~*~

The next time they see Carlos, Beatrice has taken Diana to the local children’s museum. Diana is shoving colored scarfs into a tube then chasing them when they are blown out the top. She loves it.

"Beatrice!" A small body collides into her back, tearing her attention from the little girl to greet Carlos.

"Hi, Carlos. Diana, do you want to say hi?" Diana waves before returning to her previous task, Beatrice smiles and ruffles her hair before turning back to Carlos. "How are you doing, buddy?"

"I’m good. Marley is here, do you wanna see her?" He bounces in place when he asks, positively vibrating about the edges.

"I would love to see her! Could you bring her here, I don’t think Diana’s quite ready to move on yet." He agrees and disappears into the sea of children.

"Good morning, Bea." Beatrice sidesteps a hug, shrugging off the hand Lucia strokes across her shoulder.

"I’ve told you, my name is Beatrice." She tries so very hard to keep the edge from her tone, but Diana looks up worriedly at the change in her voice. Beatrice forces a smile and she returns to her game. Beatrice searches briefly for Carlos’s unruly curls in the everflowing ocean of children, catching and returning a yellow scarf that falls into her face.

"Da!" Diana calls, tugging on Beatrice’s hand before continuing in a whine. "Hungry."

"We were just about to head out for lunch, if you want to join?" Lucia winks when Beatrice meets her gaze, twisting Beatrice’s stomach into a knot.

"Thanks but - "

"Bea!" Beatrice’s head snaps to Ava waving at her energetically, trying to weave through the children racing between them. She smiles reflexively, waves and lifts Diana to see her, setting her back down and watching her race to her mother. Ava captures her, picks her up and kisses her cheek before dropping into Beatrice’s chest. "Hans needed me to trade shifts, I have the day off. I was thinking we could get lunch?"

"I was actually just inviting them with us!" Lucia’s voice is overly saccharine, too bright. Ava lifts her head from Beatrice’s shoulder and stares at the woman curiously, smiling and waving at the children when they greet her.

"This is Carlos, the boy I was telling you about, his friend Marley, and his mother Lucia." Ava twists to meet her eyes when the woman’s name comes out sharper than Beatrice had intended. She asks about it silently, searches for the words Beatrice isn’t ready to say. Beatrice looks away.

"Well, what do you wanna do, Di?" Ava bounces her softly. Diana looks between Beatrice’s tensed jaw and Carlos’s buzzing excitement.

"Go Carlos?" Ava nods once and waits for Beatrice to agree as well before acknowledging Lucia.

Ava makes small talk with Lucia while they make their way to the restaurant next door, Beatrice’s fingers curled tightly around hers. When they are taken to a table, Lucia’s hand presses briefly into the small of her back and she winks when Beatrice bumps into Ava trying to shrug her off. The children elect to sit across from the adults with Beatrice sat between Ava and Lucia. Beatrice prays this meal won’t be as awful as she thinks it will.

Ava kisses the back of her hand before relinquishing it to take Diana to the bathroom. 

"So?" Lucia’s hand scrapes up Beatrice’s thigh until she shoves it off her lap. "Who’s that?"

"She is Diana’s mother, Ava. Please stop touching me." Beatrice tries to fight the rising pressure in her lungs. Lucia smiles coyly and winks when Ava slides back into the seat next to Beatrice.

"Are you alright?" Ava presses into Beatrice’s side, squeezes the hand she pulls into her lap.

"Fine." Beatrice forces a smile and she knows Ava doesn’t believe her, she knows by the wrinkle between her eyes and the little quiver of the corner of her mouth. Carlos shoots a straw wrapper at Beatrice and she laughs brightly, dropping Ava’s gaze to fling the wrapper in his direction. 

Lucia pats her knee and Beatrice suddenly finds she isn’t hungry anymore. Beatrice crosses and uncrosses her legs more times than she can count, trying desperately to listen as Carlos and Ava discuss the best Pokémon and why it’s Mimikyu. Marley disagrees and brings Mew into the conversation but Beatrice can’t focus enough to join, even when they all try so hard to get her involved. Ava keeps pausing to look at her, especially when Beatrice chokes on her drink because Lucia squeezes her thigh.

"I’m going to clean myself up." Beatrice blots the wet spot on her shirt with her napkin, ignoring the stares she receives when she scrapes her chair back and rushes to the restroom.

She stares at her wild eyes and hair in the mirror for only a moment before pulling her shirt off and holding it under the hand dryers, more thankful than ever that she decided to wear a top under her shirt today.

The door creaks open and Beatrice sighs, doesn’t turn from the hand dryer. She waits for Ava’s worried voice to ask if she’s alright, she waits for the light touch on her elbow to silently ask her to turn.

Instead, arms slither around her hips, curl around her stomach and turn her in place. 

"Lucia. Umm, could I… could I just get a minute… I’m not feeling too well." Beatrice takes a step back, hits her elbow on the hot metal of the dryer. She has nowhere to go, Lucia stands between her and the door.

"So Ava, huh?" Is this what a rabbit feels like when a wolf decides to make a meal of it?

"I would really prefer not to do this, please." She hates how her voice shakes, how her hip clips the edge of the sink, how her shoulders press into the cold tile wall.

"It’s okay, we don’t have to tell your girlfriend." Lucia winks and her breath singes across Beatrice’s face. She squeezes her eyes closed and tries to disappear.

Beatrice forgets how to breathe, she feels the world collapse into this single moment as her blood runs cold and Lucia kisses her.

Her stomach turns hard and she freezes, she disappears. Beatrice is certain she’s going to fall through the floor and wake up in hell, that this is some sort of demonic torture method for whatever sins she’s forgotten to ask repentance for. But when Lucia tries to force her tongue in Beatrice’s mouth, she remembers how to move.

Beatrice shoves her shoulders hard, sends Lucia stumbling backward and crashing into the far wall. She makes a beeline for the door, swings it open and wrenches her arm out of Lucia’s cold grip.

"Bea?" Ava’s already on her feet, eyes wide and fingers brushing over the inside of Beatrice’s wrist. She doesn’t try to regain the contact when Beatrice yanks her arm away. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I just remembered I have a thing, I’ve got to go." Carlos watches her dig through her jacket for a handful of cash, dropping it on the table before ducking through the group coming in the door and turning down the sidewalk.

Ava lifts Diana from her seat, hurries to follow Beatrice onto the street, spins in place to try to find her when they emerge. 

Beatrice has disappeared without a trace.

Ava tries calling her, tries sending her messages but she receives no replies. So she makes her way home with Diana, promises to order pizza in exchange for her lunch being cut short.

She’s there.

Pacing in hurried circles and chewing on her thumbnail in front of Ava’s door. Her eyes are red and her breaths are ragged and wet, her nail beds on the opposite hand are raw and bleeding in some places from where she’s torn the skin apart between her teeth.

Ava doesn’t try to stop her movements, doesn’t try to figure out what’s bothering her, she simply opens the door and steps out of the way for Beatrice to enter unimpeded. Beatrice offers no acknowledgment, no explanation as she pushes into the apartment and locks herself in the bathroom.

Ava settles Diana in her high chair with chicken nuggets and broccoli pieces before going to check on Beatrice.

"Hey, Bea." She knocks on the door. "It’s just me. Are you okay?"

"I’m going to take a shower." Her words are rushed and she stumbles over them like Bambi on ice.

"Okay. I can get you some fresh clothes, would you prefer that?"

"Thank you." Ava rests her forehead against the door and sighs, lets her eyes close as she tries to will Beatrice into being okay.

She gathers her softest pajamas, the set Beatrice always steals when she forgets to bring her own. She hears the water screech on, the shower curtain scream closed. Diana whines from her entrapment and Ava lets her down, bribes her with cookies into going down for her nap early before she returns to the door. She knocks firmly and receives no reply.

"Hey, Bea." Ava calls through the door. "I have those pajamas you love. Do you want me to leave them out here or - "

"You can come in." Ava inhales deeply and nods, twists the knob slowly, staring intentionally at her feet as she steps into the steam filled room.

"I’m just going to leave these on the counter, I’ll be in the living room if you need me." She spins back to the door after dropping the clothes where she’d promised to leave them, pausing when she hears a sharp sniffle from behind the curtain. "Bea? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just - can…" Beatrice takes a shaky breath. "Can you stay?"

"Oh. Umm yeah. I can stay. Do I - do I need to like… I’m not quite certain what I’m supposed to do." Beatrice makes a coughing sound that resembles a choked sob and Ava wants to wrap her in a blanket and tell her everything’s going to be alright. "Do you want me to sit here next to the tub?"

"It’s fine, you don’t - "

"That wasn’t my question, Bea. Do you want me to sit next to the tub, yes or no?"

"Yes." Her voice nearly gets lost in the water hitting the bottom of the basin, Ava barely catches when she adds infinitely quieter. "Please."

"Of course." Ava presses her back into the cold porcelain tub and hums quietly to herself, crossing her legs and hoping Beatrice will tell her what’s wrong without her having to ask. She’s not sure why she offers, but Beatrice doesn’t seem to be doing much more than standing under the scalding hot water. "I have a bath bomb or bubbles if you would prefer to take a bath."

"I - are you sure?" The curtain shifts and Beatrice’s hair drips water onto the tiles beside Ava.

"Absolutely. I mean, the bath bombs have little toys in them, but if you’re willing to overlook that." Ava stares at the animals on the bathmat.

"Are they good toys?" Beatrice is trying very hard to sound lighthearted, Ava knows she’s trying to wash away the stifling dark clouds that have settled in the room with them.

"Well, Diana loves them." Ava offers a half smile over her shoulder, not quite turning enough to meet Beatrice’s eyes. Beatrice laughs wetly and the water turns off briefly before she starts to fill the tub. Ava digs through Diana’s bath supplies, raising the bath bomb box above her head triumphantly when she finds it. "I have lavender and chamomile, orange and grapefruit, or… well this just says milk. I don’t know what that means."

"I would rather not smell like soggy cereal," Beatrice tries to joke, but the tears in her voice drown the humor. "The chamomile one sounds nice."

The curtain screams as it’s pushed open slowly, Ava stares intently at the door when she turns to hand the bath bomb to Beatrice.

"Thank you." Her voice is softer than it had been before, strained with emotion and Ava wants so desperately to wrap her in her arms and tell her it’s okay.

"It’s just a bath bomb. I think it was like four dollars for the set."

"Not. Not that. For - " Beatrice makes a clicking noise. Ava presses her back into the side of the tub. She doesn’t turn. "For being you. For being here."

"I never left. I’ve always been here, Bea. I always will."

"You can’t promise that." Ava almost turns, for barely a second she starts to. But she stops. She doesn’t want to make Beatrice uncomfortable.

"I can. And I have. And I will." Beatrice’s hand drips water down her neck when she brushes Ava’s hair over her shoulder. The droplet races down Ava’s spine and makes her shiver.

The water sloshes as Beatrice leans to turn it off, Ava can hear the bath bomb fizzing quietly as it dissolves, Diana’s music box slows to a stop. Ava worries Beatrice can hear her heart thumping against her chest. Lavender and chamomile wrap around her like a warm coat, carried by the steam from the broiling hot water.

Ava twists, keeps her head trained on the opposite wall while she extends her hand for Beatrice to take if she wishes. She does, threads her wet fingers through Ava’s and squeezes. Ava squeezes back.

"You can look." Ava’s heart stops and she shakes her head reflexively. "It’s okay, Ava."

"Are you sure?" Father forgive me but fuck you, this is not the time for these feelings. Beatrice’s free hand is gentle as it takes Ava’s chin and slowly turns her head for their eyes to meet. Her smile is soft and sincere, Ava reciprocates it easily.

She’s folded into herself, knees tucked under her chin, arm squeezing around her shins, shoulders curled into her thighs. She looks so small. Small and broken. Eyes red and puffy, nose raw, cheeks flushed. Ava’s never seen her like this, it twists and pulls and stabs her in the heart.

"Are you alright?" She rubs her thumb over Beatrice’s knuckles, watches her throat bob when she swallows.

"Fine." Ava raises an eyebrow but she doesn’t ask again, Beatrice drops her chin onto her knees and sighs, cuts her eyes away. "I’m sorry."

"You don’t have to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong."  Beatrice shrugs and Ava offers a half smile. "Do you want me to wash your hair? It always makes me feel better when I’m upset."

Beatrice nods and Ava grabs the shampoo bottle as she moves behind Beatrice, massaging it into her scalp. Beatrice sighs deeply and leans into the touch, the soap foams and drips onto Beatrice’s shoulder. Ava watches the bubbles race down her back, trail over a freckle on her back.

"It was Lucia." Ava’s head snaps up as Beatrice turns, presses her chin into her shoulder.

"That upset you?" Beatrice nods. "Did you get into a fight?" Ava rinses the soap off her hands, cups water in her hand to rinse Beatrice’s hair.

"We aren’t - it’s not like that. I don’t - " Beatrice shakes her head, turns away. She sniffs and her voice wobbles, she continues barely in a whisper. "Please."

"Sorry. It’s not my business. You don’t have to tell me." Beatrice sighs again. "You can if you want, I just don’t want to pry."

"Ask."

"Uh, what?" Ava pulls back, braces herself on the edge of the tub.

"Ask. Please. I can’t…"

"Did she do something?" Beatrice nods. "Something you didn’t like?" She nods again. "Something you didn’t want?" Another nod. "Did she hurt you?"

Beatrice twists completely, tears in her eyes and chin wobbling. Soap tracks down the side of her face and Ava wipes it away without thinking. Beatrice flinches away.

"Sorry." She pulls away. Beatrice chases her hand with her own, leads it back to her face.

"Please."

"What’d she do, Bea?" Ava holds her face steady, listens to the water drip from the faucet.

"It’s not - it’s not even - I shouldn’t - "

"Hey, hey. Listen to me, you’re safe. You’re safe now. Whatever happened, I’m here." Ava doesn’t think before pulling her into her arms, soapy water drenching her shirt when Beatrice tucks her head into her neck. Ava cradles the back of her head, scratches the foamy skin there softly. "I’m here. You’re safe."

"I shouldn’t feel like this. It was just - it was - it was - "

"It wasn’t just anything, Bea. If you’re upset, it’s not just anything. Don’t invalidate your own emotions." Ava drops her cheek against the top of her head, squeezes her shoulders and rubs a circle on her back. "I’m here. You’re safe."

She holds her while she cries, scratches the nape of her neck and rubs across her shoulders until the tears fade and the sobs stop. She lets Beatrice’s wet hair stick her shirt to her back and trickle water down her spine, resists the urge to press a kiss against her temple. She holds her until the steam stops rising and the water cools and the bath bomb fizz all pops. She holds her until she pulls away.

"Hey. Come on. Let’s get you dressed and into bed, yeah?" Ava rubs the tops of her shoulders and smiles. "Let me rinse the rest of the shampoo out of your hair, then I’ll brush it and braid it, yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Always." Ava guides her back around, tilts her head back and slowly rinses the remaining soap from her hair. Beatrice watches her silently through glassy eyes, Ava’s careful not to splash any soap into her eyes, cups her hands to block the water when she pours it over her scalp. She helps her up, hands her a clean towel from the rack. "I’ll be right outside, if you need me."

"You don’t - you can stay." Ava pauses with her fingers on the doorknob.

"I know. I’ll be on the other side of the door." She doesn’t close it all the way, she stays where Beatrice can see her through the crack in the door. The wet spot on her shirt is cold, makes the skin feel blasted with frigid Arctic air. The door creaks open quietly and Beatrice’s fingers are warm as she grazes down the back of Ava’s elbow to her wrist. Ava turns and watches a water droplet speed down the vein in Beatrice’s neck and spread into the neck of her pullover. She’s holding Ava’s hairbrush and a hair tie. "Bed?" Beatrice nods a single time, chews on her bottom lip until Ava taps her thumb against the flesh. She smiles when Beatrice releases the raw skin from between her teeth. "Come now, let’s take care of your hair."

She’s gentle as she leads Beatrice to her bedroom, as she settles her on the floor beside her bed, as she shifts so Beatrice’s back is pressed into her shins.

"Is this okay?" Her hand hovers over Beatrice’s damp hair. She nods. "I need you to tell me, Bea."

"This is okay." Ava’s fingers sift through her hair, bundle the hair together so she can pull the brush through it carefully. Ava doesn’t speak again while she twists Beatrice’s hair into a French braid, ties the hair elastic around the end and drops it over Beatrice’s shoulder.

"All done. Do you want to lay down? Or I can make tea. Or we can watch a movie. Diana’s down for her nap so we have - "

"Ava."

"Sorry. I don’t want to make you feel like you  - "

"I know." Beatrice presses deeper into Ava’s legs, drops her head over her knee. "I feel safe with you."

And there it is. That’s silly warm feeling that twists Ava’s heart in her chest and squeezes her lungs and makes her body pulse with each heartbeat.

Ava rubs her thumb over a freckle on Beatrice’s neck that’s shaped almost like a heart.

"Diana has one like this in this same spot." Beatrice twists to try to see what Ava’s talking about. "This heart-shaped freckle. She has it right here." She traces the muscle in her neck further up before pressing her thumb into the space Diana’s freckle is. She can feel Beatrice’s heartbeat thrashing beneath her fingertips.

Beatrice lifts her eyes from Ava’s hand to meet her gentle gaze, she turns into her, presses up on her knees to launch herself into Ava’s chest. She knocks the breath from Ava’s lungs as she tackles her back into the mattress, nose pressing into its home in the crook of her neck and arms squeezing tight.

Ava’s shirt is still wet and Beatrice’s breath across the cold flesh ripples goosebumps across her skin.

"You’re wet." She mumbled into the damp cloth, nuzzling closer.

"That’s what she said." Ava responds automatically before freezing. "Shit sorry, that was - "

Beatrice giggles, soft and unsteady. Ava feels her try to bury her smile in her shoulder, the curve of her grin pressed into her collarbone, the warmth of her laughter seeping through her skin and spreading through her chest.

"It’s okay." Beatrice smiles crookedly, face softer than it has been in as long as Ava can remember. She pulls away, rolls off her and pokes her side softly. "You should change out of your wet clothes."

Ava bites back another witty retort in favor of kissing Beatrice on the forehead and following her suggestion, ducking into her closet to shed the shirt and tug a dry one on. Beatrice is sprawled on her stomach across the bedspread waiting when she opens the door. She smiles, soft eyes watching her quietly.

Ava takes the hand Beatrice holds out to her, allows her to be pulled down beside her. She starts to curl against her when she hesitates.

"Is this okay?" Beatrice nods and Ava chews her lip but doesn’t move.

"It’s okay." Beatrice wiggles closer, guides Ava’s arm around her waist and tucks her nose into her neck. "I feel safe with you."

I feel safe with you.

Ava kisses her forehead again, holds her against her racing heart and prays she’ll never forget this moment.

#babysitting AU #Babysitter AU #fic: like the princess #warrior nun fic #warrior nun fanfic #warrior nun #sister beatrice #ava silva #avatrice #warrior nun s2 #bea and ava #warrior nun season 2 #wn s2 #warrior nun netflix #warrior nun season two #warrior nun season one #warrior nun s1 #warrior nun season 1 #wn s1 #angst #someone sent me a request about this but I can’t find it anymore so if that’s you lmk

[kendrene]

"Can you ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven?"

When Ava says it, half-leant out of her seat and tilted toward Beatrice, what she’s aiming for is smooth. What actually happens is that her elbow, precariously planted on the table in front of them, skids across a patch of unidentifiable liquid (it’s probably beer) and she tumbles straight out of the chair. Right at Beatrice’s feet.

“Uhm.” How is it possible for Beatrice to be this pretty from any and all angles? Is it a skill? Does it come naturally? Ava doesn’t know, but it shouldn’t be allowed. It shouldn’t even be legal. “Did it hurt now?”

“Oh my fucking God, do not encourage her.” A strong set of hands slides under her armpits and Ava is hoisted back onto her seat. “Worst. Pick. Up. Line. Ever.” Mary jabs a finger into her sternum as punctuation for each word. “Like, seriously. Do better.”

“Excuse me, that was a very good pick up line. The best pick up line that ever was.”

“Only if you want your audience’s ears to bleed.”

“Well, clearly, you’re not the target audience, are you?” Ava reaches for the bottle she’d been drinking from, but it’s already empty. She could up her game if Mary gave her pointers. She’s seen old videos of her with Shannon — how easily Mary could make her laugh. Their chemistry was off the fucking charts.

As for her and Beatrice — Ava has no clue where they stand. Sometimes it feels that they’re a spark away from deflagration in the best possible way, but then she’ll say or do something stupid and end up like a character in one of those old cartoons she and Diego were sometimes allowed to watch on VHS on Sunday mornings; lab coat burned to kingdom come and eyebrows singed right off.

“Did you say pick up line?” Beatrice interjects, and there’s an odd lilt to the words, as if something far too big to be contained got stuck inside her throat.

“Christ.” Mary rolls her eyes. “I can’t do this sober.”

“Do? Do what?”

“This— whatever you two have going on, that you’ve not been talking about.” Mary waves a hand in the empty space between them, but her eyes are scanning the bottles strewn all over the table for more booze. There’s probably some rule against drinking in a convent, and Ava is pretty certain Mother Superion would enforce it if she knew how the six of them have been spending their evening, but Mother Superion has been called away to help elect another Pope (do they ever run out of those?), and Camila — the only person with a lick of sense left in the group — forgot to bring any.

“What—” No mistake, this time. Beatrice is trying and failing to swallow. “What do you think we have going on?”

“Don’t ask me — ah!” Mary holds up an unopened bottle of vodka, triumphant. “Ask her.”

“Oh.” Lilith crows from the shadows. “This is going to be good.”

“This is going to be private.” A small riot breaks out at the announcement, but Mary rounds the others up with quick efficiency and herds them for the door. “Come on all of you. No, Camila, you can’t stay and watch. I don’t care about posterity.” Camila argues back something. “Ava can write her own damn warrior nun journal. Yasmine, quit staring or I’ll—”

The rest of the threat is lost down the hallway and it doesn’t take long for their steps to recede.

Everything is quiet. The late evening fills with unspoken undercurrents. There’s a thickness to the air that is not due to the lingering heat of summer. It presses down on them with the beloved weight of a favorite blanket wrapped around the body a bit too tight.

All of a sudden, Ava is stone cold sober. She really really really wishes Mary had left the bottle behind.

“Ava?”

Sounds are supposed to break a prolonged silence, but Bea’s voice, small against the vastness of the night, only enhances it. When Ava dares look, Bea is leaning forward, her cheeks suffused a lovely red as though she’s just sat down after a run. Only one of the overhead lights is still on, and they exist in its tight circle, the darkness beyond alive with the things Ava knows that she already should have said. “Ava, what did Mary mean? What — what does she think is between us?”

Bea wets her lips, and Ava’s gaze is instantly drawn to the motion. Something molten pulses outward from the halo, pooling in her gut. Lower, like the glimpse she inadvertently got of Bea’s tongue somehow directly interlaced with her nerve endings — open flame to tinder — and set everything alight.

She’s faced dozens of demons, held her own against a fallen angel hell bent on world dominion — she’s been to a whole different realm, goddammit — but she doesn’t have the guts to simply bridge the gap and kiss Beatrice again.  

With difficulty, Ava drops her eyes to where Bea’s hands are resting. They’re so familiar now. The callouses from training. The array of small scars across the knuckles where flesh has been torn and healed so many times it is pale, almost translucent, against the darker canvas of Beatrice’s sun-kissed skin. Reaching out, Ava takes Bea’s right hand in both of her own, traces from scar to scar with the tip of a finger as if drawing constellations. Under her touch, Beatrice is shaking badly, or maybe it is her.

She doesn’t think it matters.

“Ava?” Beatrice says her name the way she’s said it hundreds of other times. Sweetly, a bit uncertain. More than a little scared. Expectant.

Ava takes one big breath and —

“Iminlovewithyou.”

— she wants to kick herself.

First because she’s never meant to say it now. Second because she’s never meant to rush it out in such a way. Barebones. No preamble. She had given a much better speech when she’d said what she’d supposed where her goodbyes inside of Adriel’s inverted church. That moving line about the warrior nun duty, and Beatrice living her life, all tied neatly together with that final in the next that Ava had managed to force out despite the well of tears inside her. It was all very romantic in a tragic sort of way.

Shit. What if she can be romantic only when she’s dying? That would fucking suck.

But she can’t take it back now. The sentence just burst out of her in a single breath, the same way power blasts from her when she overexerts the halo. And Ava may have made a grab for Beatrice’s hand to have something to hold on to, but now Bea, too, is gripping her fingers tight, and they’re two ships caught in the same storm, fighting not to let the other slip away from sight.

“I love you.” Ava repeats, slower this time. “And I’ve loved you since the Vatican. I’ve loved you since before that, actually. Since I got my stupid foot stuck inside the stupid wall in Mother Superion’s stupid office and you talked me out of it.”

“Ava…”

“And that’s why I’m always acting like a fool. Otherwise I’d have to stop and self-analyze, you know? And then, I’d have to talk to you about it, and what if you don’t love me back? I mean, I know you do, friend-like, but if you didn’t love me love me I think I would be really sad and—” Her shoulders sag. “But I guess the cat is on the table now, uh? It’s okay if you don’t love me, by the way. Like I said, I’m just going to mope for a while but I’ll--”

“Ava, stop.”

“—  be okay, you don’t have to worry — oh.” Did Beatrice say stop? “Did you say, stop?”

Crap. Beatrice doesn’t want to hear more of her hastily crafted (held together by a hail mary, a safety pin and hope) love confession. Double crap. Beatrice is smiling, so bright and wide that it reaches all the way to her eyes, crinkling them at the edges.

“You’re smiling.” Ava points out, utterly invested in her role as captain obvious.

“Yes.”

“Is it a good thing?”

“I’d say.”

“Oh.” Beatrice gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “So this means—”

“That I feel the way you feel. And I guess I didn’t say where you could hear for pretty much the same reasons.”

“But you said it? Before, I mean?”

“Yes.” A cloud settles over Beatrice’s face, and Ava regrets asking. “After you went through the portal. It took a while for the others to get to me so I sat there and I said it, over and over.” Beatrice draws in a steadying breath that seems to go on forever. “I was hoping you could hear me.” Her smile returns, but tempered. “So, you see, you’re not the only fool around here.”

“I can hear it now.” Ava’s heart is thumping so hard and fast against her ribcage she wonders whether the halo will have to heal a bruise. “You know, if you wanted to say it.”

Beatrice closes her eyes. Opens them, and an army of Tarasks could march through the refectory this second, Ava would not give them the time of day.

“Ava Silva,” Beatrice begins, incredibly steady. “I’m in love with you, too.”

***

“So,” Beatrice asks her later, in what Ava is sure is the best interest of open and healthy communication. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“No.” Ava nuzzles into Bea’s naked shoulder, arm draped loosely around her waist. “Because you were already there to catch me.”

#in liquor veritas #dren writes #avatrice #warrior nun

[commanderlexas]

avatrice and jealousy!

Welcome to my TED Talk where I talk about Avatrice and how differently they display jealousy! Yes a real post follows, this is not one of these posts that are left unfi-

Okay, before I talk about the differences between them, let me just say how much I love that we got to see both of them be jealous, even though we got to see many scenes with jealous!Bea and only one scene with jealous!Ava. But the fact that we saw jealousy from both sides solidifies in a very subtle way that what is going on between Ava and Bea is 100% mutual. The show wants us to know that these two have feelings for each other. They don't make it one-sided for the sake of a bigger surprise later on, but instead they're saying from the beginning of the season that "these two cuties are BOTH falling in love with each other and we’re serving you a slowburn, slow cooking delicious dish"! it’s not a matter of "if" but a matter of "when" they are going to act on it! And as a sapphic viewer I totally appreciate that!

I love the different reactions we get from Ava and Bea, and how these differences align perfectly with their respective personality.

Jealous!Bea is sad and a little bit pessimistic.

As far as Bea knows, Ava has only shown interest in a man before and seeing her talking with Miguel further "proves" to her that Ava would never be interested in her that way. We see a lot of causion towards Miguel, which to be fair is not just because of jealousy, after all they just met the guy, but jealousy is definitely a factor. We see Bea question Ava’s interest in working with him on multiple ocassions, but every single time she tries to do it with discretion because she doesn’t want to allow herself to show her desires. She’s a nun after all and she’s had complicated feelings about her sexuality. What’s also interesting is that what gives Bea away are small things, like her eyes or the short and sharp tone of her voice. The rest of her face usually doesn’t give much away. Another interesting fact is that although Bea is for sure jealous, she doesn’t stop Ava from doing what she has in mind, like for example, going after Miguel to see what he’s up to when she sees him on the street. Bea’s respectful of Ava’s choices and also Bea can’t say no to Ava.

Jealous!Ava on the other hand is so annoyed.

And so “loud” as well. Seeing Bea and that girl talking makes Ava’s blood boil! You can also see a very clear sign of disgust in her face when that other girl makes Beatrice smile. Bea is a person who doesn't laugh/smile that often, and when she does Ava is probably the reason why. The audacity that this girl has to come and make Bea smile and touch her! Ava probably thinks “hOw DaRE sHe”. Think about Ava, who probably hasn't talked about her feelings to Bea to give Bea the space and time she needs to come to terms with it. Ava, who sometimes acts without thinking but she’s been doing her best to keep it together and not let it slip her mouth that she has sinful thoughts about Bea. Ava, who’s patiently waiting for the right moment to come, only for some random girl to show up and get Bea’s attention. NO, not on Ava’s shift! 

So Bea's jealousy is displayed more but for the most part she's more stoic and reserved, and it also comes from a place of protectiveness of Ava! While with Ava, we only get a glimpse of her jealousy, but hers is a more obvious one, which alignes perfectly with Ava's impulsivity!

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #beatrice wn #x.

[simplykorra]

“Okay, but I can't promise anything.”

Oh fuck, okay…oh-fucking-kay.

Ava smiles and nods, because she’s very good at smiling and nodding even when she’s losing her shit and Beatrice agreeing to give her a lap dance is absolutely a shit losing moment.

They make their way through the club, this one far different than her own. With more open space and fewer tables. There’s no real stage, as much as each booth has its own personal stage.

It’s also a lot bigger than the Cradle and Cat’s Cradle is huge. This one has a second VIP section upstairs which is where Josephine (who Ava adores) took them. It’s more like the back rooms of the Cradle than the rest of the place. Dark, neon lighting, a vibe of music you can't really hear but can feel rattling through the floors beneath you.

They pass by a series of booths where people are getting private dances. Somewhere in there is Josephine Dalton, one of the richest and most attractive women in the world, getting a lap dance a few days before her wedding while sipping on expensive tequila.

Once they reach their own booth, empty and waiting, Ava looks back at Bea again. “You sure you’re up for this?”

To her surprise, Beatrice nods. “I - I want to try, I think. I’m quite drunk.”

Ava snorts, she’s a bit drunk too. “Okay, you…okay.” Stop saying okay. “I’ll go sit down then!” Ava races in first and practically leaps onto the cushiony little couch tucked into the corner. These booths are smaller, but there are a lot more. The tighter space means that the dancer wouldn't have much room to move around - but they would be close enough that everything would be easier to see.

Once seated, she watches Beatrice come in and latch the door shut behind her. She faces it for a moment, taking a breath, then looks at Ava over her shoulder. “Any advice?”

Ava swallows the lump in her throat, surprised at how she can be so nervous in a place that is so familiar to her. “Don’t overthink it, at the end of the day the hot girl is what matters most. Just remember what I told you - you’re sexy as fuck, Beatrice.”

#avatrice #warrior nun #avatrice fanfiction #warrior nun fanfiction #if i haven't responded to your kind messages here yet #know that i have seen them and they made my day #thank you so much <3

[daisychainsandbowties]

ava only fully understanding now what mary had lost in shannon, having picked up more of the story than mary had been willing to share in those scant few weeks before her disappearance. having had time to sit with herself and be able to look back and see the way mary had been so thoroughly wrapped around an absence, a corpse, and now in the aftermath clinging so tightly to her, to this idea of what she could have done to bea had she not survived

picking the story out of bea like unwrapping a wound. nights in switzerland with the windows open and the lights off and the whole world reduced to beatrice’s voice.

talking about mary so precisely, never slipping on the grammar. always mary is, like words alone could bring her home. but then the shift, inevitable, as beatrice draws the past out of her pocket like an old receipt and smooths it onto the table so that ava can look, breathing in a half-forgotten scent.

cedarwood and oil paint drying (‘it takes a very long time’). turpentine and a mug full of paint water and shannon’s mouth against it. charcoal dust and pencils scattered over her desk. boots propped by the door.

how mary would look at her. the glancing touches, the way they’d hold each other after missions and it made beatrice think of atoms colliding at great speed. turning into light, turning everything to dust.

beatrice looking down at her hands as the grammar shifts to shannon was.

when ava phases, her body turns to diffuse light, threads of scattered gold. she wants to ask beatrice if there’s ever a trace, a sketch, a silhouette of someone else inside that light.

she doesn’t ask, but when mary comes back she tells ava that she sees shannon everywhere. in the light falling down behind the hills. in roof tiles and old hoodies and too many pairs of boots.

‘do you see her in me?’

‘i see her in beatrice. with you it’s… more of a feeling.’

‘like a vibe?’

a slow, fond smile. ‘sure. it’s like a vibe.’

both of them roasting marshmallows on a campfire and beatrice just visible between the trees, stooping to collect more wood. when mary speaks again her voice has an ache inside it.

‘sometimes when i’m standing next to you i forget where i am, and it’s like i’m catching her light, casting her shadow.’

ava taking her hand, putting her head on mary’s shoulder and feeling a sudden surge of warmth in the halo. like a hand reaching out to grasp them both.

but all she says is, ‘you fucked up your marshmallow.’

they swap sticks so that when bea comes back she kneels next to ava, puts her hand over ava’s hand to teach her how to do it right. mary shaking with silent laughter as ava pretends to be clueless for the sake of bea saying, ‘here, like this. close but not too close to the flames.’

ava thinking too late, i’m already in the fire. i’m already alight.

kissing bea when she’s finished her demonstration and making her taste-test the perfectly cooked marshmallow. mary groaning and ava laughing into bea’s mouth, tasting sugar, carbon, fire.

watching mary sit next to the dying light as bea sets up their sleeping bags. ava privately of the opinion that they definitely don’t need two of them. then turning, seeing mary upset the ashes, look into the sky, lips moving.

maybe it’s prayer. ava knows she prayed to beatrice on the other side.

going into the tent and kissing bea slow, tender, hiding an apology in her mouth, on the inside of her arm, between her breasts. knowing she was almost an absence, like shannon. a loss, a thing of light and dust. knowing mary will never unravel it from her bones. but knowing, as she did when she kissed bea the first time, that love is worth holding, worth having. even for an instant, for the length of a kiss and a goodbye.

that a house is only ever haunted because someone lived in it, slept in it, painted its walls and ate meals in the kitchen. she wakes up in the morning and mary’s there, making coffee, telling ava that shannon always put a spoonful of sugar in hers, but no milk.

‘bittersweet?’

‘yeah.’

and ava knows from bea that mary drinks her coffee unsweetened, but sometimes with a little milk. and yet watching as mary pours out the coffee and empties a sugar packet into hers. sipping it and looking out at the trees, at the forest, at all these places shannon has never touched.

#i love you dearly but i'm not sorry #'anon' #avatrice #shannon x mary #warrior nun

[possibilistfanfiction]

happy new year! maybe a prompt for sleep/nap bc i need one lol

bea 🧑🏻‍⚕️🐝❤️‍🩹 (4:27 am): If you’re done with your post-op and would like to stop by, I’m in the on-call room. 

it’s so late it’s almost morning, and you really should be headed home because, technically, your shift is over and you’d been at the hospital for, like, too many hours to really want to keep track of at this point. but bea — beatrice choi, md, the resident in charge of you — is, like, so handsome, and kind, and an incredible teacher, with her perfect handwriting and her free gender-affirming clinic and all the languages she knows fluently. you think you’re a little in love with her, but who can blame you — you’re sleep-deprived and sometimes in awe of the skill and calm she has, even in just her third year. 

Dr. Ava Silva (4:31 am): sweet yah omw :)

when you open the door, a little harried, you immediately still and quiet as much as you can. bea has the room darkened, the only light coming in from a sliver under the window curtain, blue and red from the ambulances and easy white-gold from the street lights in the hospital parking lot. you’ve spent so much of your life — way too much of your life — in dark rooms in hospitals in uncomfortable beds that, for years, you could barely even feel, so you should want to run away. you should want to leave as soon as your shift is over and go home to your cramped apartment with its rickety table you found on the side of the road and its lumpy couch and the chipped mug in the kitchen — it’s not much; you can’t afford more, but it’s yours.

but you’re starting to think in some way maybe beatrice is yours too. all of the tension in your shoulders from the day — from countless central lines and three boring laparoscopic surgeries and one fatal stabbing in the er, from sutures and journals and so much to learn — melts away when you see her fast asleep. bea is on her back, scrub top off, one arm over her head, the blanket pooled around her waist, her phone face down on the flat plane of her chest — scars you haven’t seen before there that make you smile, just a little, beautiful — like she’d fallen asleep texting you. based on the fact that it’s only — you check your watch — 4:35 am, you’re pretty sure she did. 

camila keeps pestering you, and probably bea too, knowing her, to just talk to chief superion about your feelings so you can be on another resident’s service, so that there won’t be any issues and you can kiss bea if you want, but it’s, like, totally terrifying to imagine not only telling beatrice your feelings, let alone dr. superion, who puts up with your antics but just barely. 

you could leave. you could sneak out the door right now back to your apartment. it feels like a cliff to jump off, or a knife’s edge — but maybe it’s not that. maybe it’s something warm and easy and not really a choice at all, to love the steadiest person you’ve ever met. 

it’s easy to pull your running shoes off and discard your white coat and climb into the small space in the small bed next to her. she stirs a little, and so you say, ‘hey, i’m here.’ and she puts out her arm so you can lie down. it’s an invitation, albeit a sleepy one, so you make sure: ‘is this okay?’

she hums and nods. ‘hi ava.’

her voice is heavy with exhaustion; later you’ll come to find out that the hardest part of residency for beatrice — beyond literally everything else you personally find abhorrent and impossible — was just a lack of sleep. 

‘hey bea,’ you say, close enough to count her freckles and take in the warmth of her skin. she curls into you when you scoot closer to her, and it’s cramped and these beds are horrible for your back but it’s still basically heaven. you feel such deep fondness for her, small and in the dark like this, so different from her ramrod straight posture and clever hands in the light. 

she mumbles something incoherent and pulls you closer, and you fall asleep just like that. you’re awakened by the sound of her pager — a crime in your book, totally homophobic — just as the sun has risen. she’s disoriented, seemingly, as she wakes up painfully, and you kind of expect her to panic upon seeing you. but she smiles apologetically, a little nervous but apparently happy you’re there.

‘i don’t remember you coming in,’ bea says, searching for her scrub top until you hand it to her from where it was discarded over the side of the bed. she looks at you questioningly for one second, the tiniest bit of trepidation crossing her face, and so you just smile. 

‘you were very asleep, mere minutes after texting me. kinda rude to knock out after inviting me, don’t you think?’

her little blush is worth everything as she checks her pager and slips into her clogs. ‘you’re lucky i even managed to get that text off.’

’the er was that bad?’

she groans. ‘worse than.’ 

you’re ready to just lay around for a few minutes before you go home, but then she pulls on her quarter zip and you think about the scrub cap she’d had on earlier, blue with little otters all over it, unexpectedly adorable, and you decide to get up anyway. ‘have time for me to grab you a coffee as i head out?’

‘i’m sorry i kept you here. that can’t have been comfortable.’

you have to physically hold back the urge to tell her about how good she smells, even smooshed near her armpit. you’re, like, the best at all things self-control though, obviously, and so you don’t. instead you just shrug and stand, thankful for the last round of jillian’s shots that seem to be helping your back. ‘well, if you weren’t so ripped.’

she rolls her eyes, but her blush remains. camila is right, you think, because all you want to do is kiss her right now. but you don’t, you’re good for once, and you get ready too, as quickly as you can, and then hold the door open for her. she blinks a few times at the light, rubs her eyes behind her glasses, but then smiles at you — just for you.

‘maybe, soon,’ she says, taking a brave little breath after you’d waited in easy silence at the coffee counter, ‘you might want to join me on a hike? i go most days off if i can.’

and, like, that’s a terrible idea for you maybe, but whatever, some of your most ambitious terrible ideas have earned you an md and a phd and this very cool person in front of you, offering. ‘i’d really love that,’ you say. ‘text me.’

she nods, definitely pushing the time it would take to answer a page — lilith is going to be pissed, a delightful detail — and then reaches out to squeeze your hand, just once.

‘have a good day, dr. choi.’

she smiles. ‘see you soon, dr. silva.’

#wn fic #avatrice fic #prompts #wn #avatrice #surgeons au #like i'm kind of obsessed w this again but it'll probably stay as little prompt fills #idk it's a good one #anyway lol #butch bea 🥺🫡

[unicyclehippo]

one word prompt: falling

‘hey, bea?’

ava talks at night. you learned this fact while sharing a bed with her, night after night, tucked up in a bed that had been exaggeratedly labelled a double. wrist to wrist, shoulder to shoulder (ashes to ashes). on some nights, when ava was feeling lonely or mean, she would hook her ankle around yours too. or wriggle, making frustrated breathy noises, onto her side like a fish on the sand, and throw an arm across your waist and her face right into the curve of your neck. and then she would talk.

(you can feel her lips against your neck when you concentrate. you have been filling your mind with other, better, safer things instead. like how many hours it’s been since you left switzerland. like miguel being michael being doctor salvius’s son. like how many hours it has been since you prayed, since you emptied out the vessel of your heart and mind, entrusting it’s contents to God. it has been twenty-three days, four hours since my last confession, you think, and stop precisely there.)

‘bea?’

‘i’m here.’

‘how’s your leg?’

you hum. flex the muscles carefully working up from ankle—twinge—calf, knee, thigh. your thigh hurts in a dull way you recognise. it was the strike that staggered you, numbed your leg to the point where it couldn’t bear weight. it would be bruised for a long time but shouldn’t cause you any trouble.

‘much better. and yours?’

in the dark, you can’t see the way she kicks out with both legs but you feel it, the way the bed shakes and the sheets pull and give way, messily. she kicks again and the cool air from the air-conditioning floods beneath the sheets, now fully untucked. her heels thud back down to the mattress. the sheets settle more slowly, falling around your limbs.

‘ava!’

‘gotta test them. all good again.’

‘you’re worried,’ you say, because that was another thing you learned in switzerland. anything you say to each other in the dark can be forgiven. anything you say in the dark is only as real as you want it to be come morning. ‘about the halo. about being paralyzed again.’

‘yeah. and a lot more than that.’

it’s not a perfect darkness. when you turn your head, her profile is outlined by the glow of the balcony lights. anything you say in the dark is forgotten, forgiven. what about what you might do? you reach out. touch two fingers to her forehead. she gasps. doesn’t move as you follow the light, the path laid out in front of you. you chart her forehead, dip at the bridge of her nose. such a light touch. she doesn’t move. when you reach the tip of her nose, she scrunches it just to make you smile. you’re still smiling as your fingers drop to her lips.

ava breathes out. hot air against your fingers. you trip over her top lip, lightly graze the bottom, and when you make it to her chin you’re breathing like you ran a marathon.

‘bea,’

‘i would stay,’ you tell her. ‘if it went out. if you wanted me to. maybe,’ you say, because you can be mean too, ‘even if you didn’t want me to.’

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #avatrice #warrior nun #just a short lil thing

[littledata]

in your new fic (love by the way) just wondered if you could elaborate what Ava and Bea discuss when they call each other and realise they’re gonna be a couple.

Really interested to know when they both realised and how Bea discussed the beach night to her?

Thanks if you can

“It’s stupid because it’s not here in front of me,” Ava says, grinning stupidly. She can't seem to wipe it from her face, her mouth doesn't seem capable of doing anything else. “Four months, oh my God.”

On the other end of the phone, she can hear the wind rushing past Beatrice, and she half feels like it might sweep through the line and blow her way. For years she's carried the weight of loving Beatrice and believing she couldn't - or wouldn't - love her back, has borne the endless cycle of soaring hope and crushing disappointment with relative dignity and minimal crying into Mary's shoulder.

Now that Beatrice has said it though (I feel very deeply for you - she'll relive those words again and again) she's sure she could float away with the slightest breeze.

"Did you - would you have said anything? If I hadn't..." She doesn't want to say 'got down on my knees and begged you to love me in the middle of a train station' although that's certainly how it had felt; how it felt driving home in Lilith's car wondering if Beatrice would ever look at her the same way again.

"I don't know," Beatrice tells her. "Maybe not. I felt very muddled about all of it. I tried hard to resist it."

"How long?" Ava asks greedily. Now that she's had a taste of Beatrice wanting her, loving her, she can't get enough, will gladly drink it all down and ask for more.

"Hm." Beatrice says. Ava can't see her but she knows Beatrice's noises and silences well enough to understand that she's thinking about it. She's found, over the years, that where her own emotions are often clear and straightforward to her, looming large over everything she does, Beatrice's tend to be more subtle, more textured. Often, she has to sort through them before she's able to express them at all.

"Do you know that lots of girls smoked at my school?"

Ava's brows furrow, confused by the apparent non-sequitur, "Huh?"

"I mean, that lots of girls smoked, and I always refused to join in them. I didn't like it, I thought it was smelly and unpleasant."

"You smoked with me," Ava reminds her, "The first time we met." Ava thinks of it often - wonders regularly the path her life would have taken if she hadn't sneaked out of the tour of the rich asshole boarding school and found Beatrice crying behind the kitchens.

She hears the smile in Beatrice's voice, "That's what I mean. You offered me a cigarette and I accepted, even though I never had before. I think I wanted to impress you."

"Impress me?" Ava lets out a startled laugh, "You're like, the most impressive person ever."

"We'll have to agree to disagree," Beatrice says, amused. Ava wishes very badly she could see her, pull her close. "But I think that's when it started - although I didn't know it then, of course. I only realised it in little bits over the years. Coastal erosion, you know."

"I know," Ava agrees. She's so in love with this ridiculous nerd. "You remember when you came to the hospital to see me? When you were in university and I took those - uh. Well, when I ended up in hospital, anyway. As soon as you walked in, everything felt better, and I just knew."

"That long?" Beatrice asks softly.

"Yeah, that long." Ava agrees. It isn't that she's spent the last ten years pining: she's had boyfriends, girlfriends, even fallen in love a couple times over. But quietly, in the very back of her mind, it's always been Beatrice. Just Beatrice.

"I'm sorry I didn't act sooner," Beatrice says regretfully.

"Don't be sorry," Ava tells her immediately. "Don't. We got here. I didn't think we ever would. That night on the beach trip I kind of felt like I'd fucked everything up, like we'd never be friends the same way again."

"I think if anyone fucked up then it was me." Beatrice sighs, "I felt like I'd taken advantage of your desire for physical affection."

Ava pauses, decides she isn't going to say it and then says it anyway. "So I did turn you on, right?"

"Oh God." There is a smothered laugh and Ava imagines Beatrice is covering her face with her hand, "Do we have to get into that sort of detail?"

"So that's a yes." The grin is back on her face and bigger than ever.

"It's a yes," Beatrice admits, "And I'm sorry I didn't handle it very well. I was embarrassed, I think. And angry with myself."

"Angry?" Ava asks, "Is the thought of me touching you that bad?"

"No, of course not." Beatrice is quick to correct her, "The opposite, really. I was angry at my own lack of self-control in maintaining the boundaries of our friendship."

"Hm." Ava considers this for a long time, "You know, you should probably go back to therapy."

"I'm going to allow that comment only because it's you."

There's something in the way that Beatrice says you that makes Ava's heart flutter and dance in her chest. She wants badly to hug her, pull in her and tell her it's okay, feel the warmth and the strength of her. She wants to touch her again and see if she can make her gasp, hold her hand and run her fingers through her hair.

And she can say it, now, doesn't have to keep it inside anymore. So she does. "I want to kiss you really bad right now."

Beatrice inhales a shaky breath. She says, "I want to kiss you too."

#oh my god this ended up so long #extra writing #asks

[quietblueriver]

fingers crossed for your writing! prompt for you: mask

Hi!! Thank you so much for the prompt and the crossed fingers. Very happy to be writing Avatrice again. Here’s a short, soft thing and a play on both mask and masc that’s hopefully not too far off the mark. 💜💜💜

Ava leans against the doorway and watches as Beatrice stares at a black t-shirt that she assumes came from the basket of clean clothes beside the bed, lips pulled down at the corners, a few locks of newly shorn hair falling over her forehead with the angle. Ava wants to tuck it back, run her own thumbs over the buzzed sides in that way that makes Beatrice close her eyes and breathe a little deeper.

“Hey,” she says more quietly than she normally would, smiling gently as Bea’s attention snaps to her, body visibly tightening in the moment it takes for her to assess Ava’s threat level. Once a soldier and all that.

“Sorry to surprise you.” She sticks out a socked foot and wiggles it, thick pink and purple stripes on display. “Got a comfy assist with my stealth game. Camila was not joking with this yarn.”

The tension leaves Bea’s body as she lifts her left leg from where it hangs over the side of the bed to wiggle back with her own pair, a more muted blue and gray sticking out from the bottom of gray sweatpants. She doesn’t say anything, but she puts the shirt down and shifts on the bed, tucking socked feet criss-cross underneath her knees and creating a space that Ava fills happily, crossing her own legs so that their thighs are pressed together.

“You good?”

“Yes,” Beatrice offers quickly before she catches herself, shrugging a shoulder at Ava with a small smile. “Mostly,” she amends, and Ava indulges her earlier impulse and presses Bea’s hair back from her forehead before running her thumb over the clipped hair just above her ear. As she’d hoped, she gets fluttering eyes and a content sigh.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Brown eyes blink open and she runs a hand through her hair before turning her head to face the mirror that hangs from their closet door. Ava’s eyes follow, and they meet in the glass, Ava leaning over to rest her chin on Bea’s shoulder.

“‘Sup, handsome?” Her breath tickles Bea’s cheek and she rolls her eyes even as she smiles that smile she saves for Ava, a little bit of pink in her cheeks.

Her eyes drift and Ava presses a kiss to her cheek before settling back and giving her some space.

“I look like my uncle.”

Ava stops fiddling with their duvet, brings her eyes slowly back to Beatrice in the mirror. She’s waiting for her, lips turned up just slightly and eyes soft, and she dips her head a little to let Ava know it’s okay to keep looking, to keep checking.

And she does, eyes tracking the movement of Bea’s chest and the twitch of her toes where they’re pressed under her knee, a flash of soft blue wool.

“Jacob. His name was Jacob. He was…” The shift in her expression as she searches for the words she needs brings her lips to a pout, but her tone isn’t sad or angry when she finds what she’s looking for. “I wanted very badly to be like him, when I was small. He laughed a lot, and he was very smart but he didn’t…he didn’t use it to make me feel small. He was silly with me, in a very intentional way. Always sought me out and asked me questions and told me jokes that…well, you would have liked them.” Ava sticks her tongue out at her and Bea looks a little proud and a lot fond. “Exactly. I didn’t know what to do with that, but I liked it.” She pulls at the silver chain around her neck, the ghost of a prayer. “He died when I was eight. A car accident. I think…looking back on his funeral and the people who were there, I think maybe he was…like me.” Her jaw clenches, determined, and Ava loves her as she says, voice firm, “Gay. I think he was gay.”

Ava moves a hand to the small of Bea’s back, and Bea puts a hand on her knee, skin warm through the fabric of Ava’s leggings.

“It…as far as I know it was a surprise to my father. Uncle Jacob always brought dates to the big Christmas party and to all of the family events, beautiful women that were funny like he was and talked to me like they cared what I had to say but also like I was still a child, like I was only expected to be a child. One of them snuck me extra cake when my mother wasn’t looking, but when she winked at me, suddenly I couldn’t eat anything else.”

She’s blushing a little, and Ava presses her lips to the cotton covering her shoulder, smiling into it.

“Uh-huh.”

The blush deepens, and Ava smothers the rest of her grin against Bea, grasping and squeezing at her forearm to encourage her to keep talking.

She does, smile dimming a little as she says, “They were there at the service, those women, but so were a lot of other people I’d never seen before, all in a big group together.” Her fingers move against the fabric of her sweats, tug at her black tee, the twin to the one discarded a few minutes ago. “They were in the back of the line to greet us, at the wake, and my father was so…” Fingers run with agitation through already mussed hair. “He was so rude to them, Ava. Gritting his teeth and saying nothing when they offered condolences and shaking hands hard enough that he made people wince. I went to the bathroom and heard two of them talking about how it wasn’t any wonder ‘Jay’ lived like he did. I’d never heard anyone call him Jay before, and I didn’t know what they meant, but I knew better than to ask my parents.”

She swallows and Ava covers the hand on her knee with her own, quiet because she’s not sure if Bea is finished and she is trying her very best these days to give Bea the same space that Bea gives her to say what she wants to say. Even if it makes Ava squirm with the desire to comfort, to fill the silence.

“We left the wake as soon as we could without it being socially unacceptable to the people my parents cared about. My father was so angry on the ride home that my mom was afraid to talk to him, and…” The shaky breath makes Ava so fiercely protective that the halo starts humming under her skin. “After he pulled me into the car, I made myself as small as I could. He went into his study and slammed the door when we got home. They never talked about Uncle Jacob again. It was like he died twice.”

“Bea.” Her hand moves to rest between shoulder blades, presses in in comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

Beatrice smiles at her in the mirror before breaking their connection to turn and kiss her. The angle is a little awkward, their bodies having twisted over the course of the conversation, so she moves to fix it, adjusting so her knees are pressed to Bea’s thigh and making her hands at home on the sides of her neck. When Beatrice pulls back, she backs herself against the headboard and lifts an arm, and Ava’s chest is tight with affection as she moves into the space and settles, hand gripping the front of Bea’s shirt a little possessively. They’ve had this now for months, this bed and this apartment and this time together without world-ending bullshit, but she’s still not used to the luxury of it, of open, unapologetic affection, of Bea’s heartbeat steady under her ear, of time stretching out instead of bearing down.

“It surprised me, when I looked into the mirror and saw him.” Her voice is quieter like this, and Ava feels her words as she says them, cheek pressed against her chest. “In a good way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Fingers run through her hair and Ava lets her eyes close. “I wish I could have known him. I wish he could have known me.”

Ava nods against her. “Me too. He sounds way better than the rest of your family, not that that’s a high bar.” The words slip out thoughtlessly but she doesn’t want to retract them. They’re past pretending Ava wouldn’t halo blast Bea’s parents into the nearest body of water on sight and mostly past Bea feeling guilty for wanting her to. “I’m sorry you didn’t have him for longer.”

“Mmm.” It’s a little absent. A beat. “I used to be a nun.”

Ava opens her eyes at that, pushes up a little to raise an eyebrow at Beatrice.

“Oh yeah? I didn’t know.”

Beatrice pokes her in the ribs and she giggles as she settles back down.

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice softens, quiets. “I understand him. Or I think I do. Why Uncle Jay lived the way that he did.”

Ava splays her hand across Bea’s ribs.

“You used to be a nun.”

“Yes.” Lips touch her hairline. “I am glad that I’m not anymore.”

Ava presses her own lips against the body underneath her. “Me too.” She traces a pattern on Bea’s ribs. “I think he would be proud of you. Of who you are. Of how brave you are.”

Her body moves with Beatrice’s exhale. “I think he would have liked you.”

Ava pulls her chin up to rest against Bea’s sternum and grins her best roguish grin. “Well, I’m very charming.”

Her stomach swoops at the look Bea gives her, adoration undisguised and voice earnest. “Yes. You are. You’re wonderful.”

The kiss is short but sure, leaving Ava a little breathless. Affection thrums in her veins, and she pulls and pushes at Bea’s body until they’re reversed, Bea’s head pillowed on her chest and Ava’s fingers running through short hair, scratching at the nape of her neck. She runs her fingers under the silver chain and turns her head to watch their reflection. Bea’s eyes are closed, her breath slowing, and Ava takes the opportunity to look at her, sees for a moment Sister Beatrice as she was when Ava met her, ashamed and hiding so much of herself, desperately trying to be what everyone wanted and needed her to be.

Her heart breaks a little, for little Beatrice who became Sister Beatrice and for a man she never met. She blinks away the specters in the mirror and sees Bea again, soft and sleepy and brave, and presses a kiss of gratitude to her head.

#avatrice #avatrice fic #wn prompt fic