hello :) feel free to ignore if you're not taking prompts anymore but I can't stop thinking about bea and 'now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good'
[whoever sent this prompt a bazillion years ago, know i've been thinking abt it forever. sry it took this long but a sweet little cam pov, butch bea universe, post-canon]
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'hey.' you're careful to make sure your footsteps, while soft, are audible, and that you don't move too quickly; beatrice hasn't been a nun for years now, but you're certain that, if you scared her in the middle of the night, she could have you on your back with a broken collarbone quicker than you can even blink.
as it is, though, she turns to you with a soft smile and then gazes out at the waves again, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms tight around them, chin resting atop. you're wrapped up in a thick blanket you'd taken from the foot of your bed — you know ava always makes sure it's in your favorite of their guest bedrooms whenever you plan to visit — and beatrice is in a soft sweater, a beanie pulled down to sit just above her ears.
it's the middle of the night and dark by the sea, but the lights from the city, perpetual and unrelenting and hopeful, create an ambient haze.
'all right?' she asks quietly.
'oh, yeah,' you say. 'just jetlagged.'
she hums, not uncurling, still not looking at you. her posture is easy, albeit a little sad, a little small, but she's not tense; you know your company is welcome.
'are you okay?'
she seems to weigh her answer. 'i couldn't sleep.'
you don't have to ask more to understand: you're the one who found her at the arc, sitting stone-still; you're the one who held her, hours later, as she had a panic attack that seemed to roll on and on in waves; you're the one who quietly kept tabs on her in the eight months ava was missing as she waded through the world steeped in tangible grief. you know every detail of her recent injuries, her recovery progress months later. you have your own nightmares too.
'ava's okay?'
you know he is; beatrice wouldn't be skulking away at 3 am on the beach outside of their house if he wasn't. still, it gets her to smile. 'fast asleep, taking up three quarters of the bed. korra is taking up the rest of it.'
you smile; korra has a habit of cuddling with you when she's off-duty and you're visiting, but you know if beatrice leaves ava's side, korra is immediately there, even if it's just to sleep.
'is your leg bothering you?'
it gets beatrice to unfurl, just a little, and stretch her left leg out along the sand. you'd gone running with her the day before, easy along the water, and she hadn't shown any signs of soreness, but you know sometimes, especially if there's going to be rain, her hip aches. 'no,' she says, 'it's okay.' she lets out a deep breath. 'i'm okay.'
you nod; you know well enough by now to not press the issue. you've seen so many people you love — ava and beatrice included — injured, in pain; some people you have loved have died, and there was nothing you could do to save them. it is not an easy life, to save the world.
you let the waves roll in and out peacefully. beatrice is your big sister, has been for years and years now. eventually, she sighs and turns to you, fiddling with the engagement band on her left ring finger, a marker of one of your favorite joys. 'do you really think i'm — ava wants to marry me.'
ava, since, like, four days into knowing beatrice, has been in love with her, you're pretty sure, and they've been together for years, have built a life and won a holy war and built a life again — so of course ava wants to marry her. but, still, 'yeah,' you say. 'she does.'
beatrice shakes her head, like she can't quite believe it. on bad nights, maybe she can't.
'bea.'
she twists the band around her finger, then takes her beanie off and runs a hand through her short hair. you scoot closer to her and bump her shoulder with yours and wait for her to look at you. 'ava is just — he's been through so much. he's hurt, so much. and he deserves to have the most beautiful life.'
'that's true,' you say, because it is, in every way. but, 'in what world is that life not spent loving you?' you're sure beatrice has made up a million reasons why it isn't true, some nonsense about her not being patient enough, not being kind enough, not being sure enough about who she is, not being free enough to want things, not being excellent or extraordinary enough. 'listen, i was rooting for you ages and ages ago, okay? i meddled as best i could.'
it takes a second, and it's watery with unshed tears, but beatrice laughs quietly. 'i do remember that.'
'bea, you have to know by now, right?'
you watch her jaw clench; sometimes love, especially ava's love, so generous and so bright, is hard to swallow, is even harder to stomach.
'you don't have to be perfect. you just have to be good.' you touch the ring on her finger and than lace yours with hers. 'and you are so, so good.'
you're definitely not surprised to see her sniffle and wipe below her eyes. she steadies herself after a few seconds, but not in a way that makes you ache. instead, she puts her beanie back on and finally turns to you with a smile. 'thank you, camila.'
'no need,' you say. 'you love us all so well, every day.'
her eyes are soft. 'i try.'
you squeeze her hand.
'tomorrow morning,' she says, 'you have to act surprised, because ava has this big brunch planned so we can ask you extravagantly.'
'go on, i'm loving the concept so far.'
'will you officiate our wedding?'
it's maybe, or, like, definitely, the best question anyone has ever asked you. 'are you kidding? of course.'
'you're sure? it's — it's a gay wedding, and you're technically still clergy, and —'
you roll your eyes and, for good measure, elbow her in the ribs. 'you're out of your mind if you think i care about any of that, let alone believe it. you're my favorite couple. also, we've been to like twelve drag brunches together? i've told you multiple times i think ayo edebiri is hot.'
'well, i just —'
'it would be the greatest honor of my life, beatrice.'
she hugs you, tight, and the next morning you do let ava order an extravagant amount of food and then ask you again; you pretend to be surprised and he sees right through you, playfully huffs at beatrice but then just whoops and hugs you anyway when you obviously agree. it's easy, to bask in her light, in their love. at their wedding, in front of the same ocean, on the same sand, as you hold beatrice's childhood bible with its careful notes and occasional doodles and recite love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres; love never fails; as bea cries the entire time in a perfectly tailored suit and ava, in her wispy dress, gossamer and lace, laughs and wipes her tears — it's easy to know that this is what god meant. a union, steadfast, devoted, faithful, you say; a holiness worthy of the divine.
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Kaminari and 3? I love the colour theme of your blog! It's so sunny and happy
i gotchu my dear! and thank you so much 🥹🧡 i like that you think of it like that, that was the intention!! 🧡✨
number 3 is: "just please open your eyes" which.. took a heavy turn here 🫡
warnings include canon typical violence and wounds (no wounds are described in any detailed or gore-y way but they are still there and mentioned briefly) but dw, a happy ending and 1.2k words!
(this was also formatted and posted from my phone as i have flunked down on my gengar plushie and cannot get up. if theres any mishaps let me know and ill fix them on my pc tomorrow! 🥰🧡)
Kaminari whips his head around, a triumphant smile on his face as he searches for your hero suit's color scheme in the mess of settling debris and civilians. This is the first respond and rescue you both have officially been a part of as Pro Heroes and the overwhelming victory has Kaminari's veins buzzing in a way that he haven't felt like before. He might even feel brave enough to confess to you right now.
Now, where are you?
In more depth he takes in his surroundings. There's paramedics by their vans, helping civilians with their wounds and cuts, over by the setting sun there's his mentors talking to civilians who passed by, there's Bakugou crouched down by an unconscious person and then there's the media by the edge of the scene, trying to catch the scoop of today's events. Only one building fell down and that was the villain's doing. The debris around you is so small and dusty because Bakugou's fast reflexes and quirk prevented the falling debris from being big enough to kill anyone. Kaminari sure is lucky he's got so capable friends -- colleagues, he reminds himself with a cheerful glee.
Wait, rewind.
Who's Bakugou crouched over? He's checking for a pulse. Kaminari scrunches up his eyes to get a better look and his heart stops beating as time freezes. He thinks that his breath hitches but the second that the dusty air returns to his lungs, everything goes into overdrive. His heart beats faster than he thought was possible, sweat travels down his brow, his back and his hands feel sticky. Every muscle is begging him to move, to run.
So he does. He runs and screams and yells your name as loud as he's able, hurrying to be by your side. He stumbles and falls down on his knee and in the back of his mind he does register the scraping, the blood trickling but none of that is what he feels.
There's blood on your face. Kaminari can't see more for the paramedic hooking you to a machine. He pushes and pulls uselessly at Bakugou's arm and somehow, the brute lets him -- doesn't even reprimand him for accidentally scratching.
Did the debris hit you? Did the Tech Villain get a hold of you before Kaminari zapped and paralysed him? Someone grabs a hold of his arm but he can't tear his eyes away from you to look at who it is and what they want.
In a muted, underwater sort of way, he hears Yaoyorozu's voice as she starts fiddling with him, putting a mask over his face without kaminari flinching or moving to stop her. It seems logical in a situation that isn't, so he lets her.
At the hospital, the doctors have a hard time being allowed to check the cut on Kaminari's abdomen that's still bleeding and while Kaminari has always prided himself in being way more collected in serious crisis than his peers (which is a debatable feat according to you and Sero, but he digresses), he shamefully has to admit that a coffee table has been punched hard enough to break in blind rage. He refused to leave your side, so the doctors have settled on fixing him up as he looks at you from another bed they put in for him. Cruelly, his mind supplies the thought that he'll probably receive disciplinary action at the agency for acting out like this on his first job and creating trouble for the doctors and paramedics. He scoffs at the thought, eyes trained on you.
Someone is patching up a minor cut on his shoulder as he sighs out, "just please... open your eyes."
He's drained now. His battery's running on empty and the buzzing that's been going in his ears settle to a low hum so when he's asked to lie down on his stomach so that they can clean a wound on the back of his thigh, he simply does as he's told without a fight.
He falls asleep. Somehow, miraculously, he manages to fall asleep while fear and anger has him tossing and turning in his mind, drowning and burning, crying and yelling. His dreams are nothing comfortable, but they're not tangible either. He can't describe any of what he sees and hears in the dream to anyone, they're not coherent.
So when he wakes up with a startle, his eyes widening as tears roll down, he's surprised to feel a weight on his mattress that isn't his own. Slowly, almost fearfully, he turns his head to his left, where you're propped up, a fidget toy in your grasp.
He whispers your name, almost in disbelief and you look at him with a bright smile. Your head's still wrapped in bandages and he can see that you're connected to an IV you've dragged with you to his bed, but you seem... fine?
"Yo!"
The way you so casually greet him with a grin deflates him slightly as he lets his head fall back on the pillow. "You're okay?" he asks muffled half through the fabric and you put down whatever gadget you were fidgeting with and runs a hand through his hair, "are you? I heard from Momo that you've caused quite a stir."
"You were unconscious!"
"I got a concussion and passed out."
He looks up at you with furrowed brows, "they hooked you up to some kind of machine."
You can't help the snort that escapes you. You can tell he's anxious and from what Yaoyorozu has told you, he hadn't listened to anyone since he spotted you passed out.
"Yeah, because they couldn't assess the damage properly on site and needed to take precautionary measurements until I was brought here, you know protocol. All this has done is give me a giant headache and a free pass from writing reports for a few days. I'm okay, Denks."
He sighs as he snuggles close to you. You wrap an arm around him like you usually do when he gets cuddly and needy. Your heart is beating faster than you'd like to admit and hope he doesn't notice. He'd been so beautiful today on scene, fighting with confidence and brilliance. You wanted to confess when the battle was over.
No time like the present, right?
"Hey Denks?" you carefully ask, and he hums a reply but seems to exhausted to look up at you. You kiss the top of his head and feel him tense, "I'm in love with you. I'm sorry i worried you."
There's quiet for a moment, like time stands still. Then, he jumps to sit up, groan from the pain of his stitches -- though no less excited -- and yells out a, "really?!" with stars and hearts in his eyes. You can't help but laugh.
Kaminari's never been subtle, but you needed some time before you were ready. Then, he coughs into his hand and turns all serious and nods solemnly, "mhm. I mean, I appreciate the apology. Don't pull that shit on me ever again."
He tries to shake hands with you, face still pulled tight like he's doing business and you just laugh, grab his hand and pull him down so he's face to face with you, "I'll do my utmost, handsome." and then you kiss him. You both grin into the kiss before deepening it.
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