#dianneking fanfiction

[dianneking]

The Affair - Chapter 1 (Larissa/Reader)

Hiya! As part of my weekly writing challenge, I wrote this chapter over two writing sessions, and I chose not to wait for the fic to be finished before posting. It'll probably be a couple of chapters all together.

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature

Tags: Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Infidelity, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader.

Link to AO3 in the title

The Affair - Chapter 1

Waiting in the snow for a married woman , you thought, moodily pulling your scarf up to cover your freezing nose as yet another car passed, how the fuck did my life come to this?

You had never been one for thrills in life. If anything, you had been pretty boring: you’d always liked English class at school, always got straight As, never stepped a foot out of line. You never felt the need to, nor the appeal of being rebellious. You’d gone on to get a bachelor’s degree and teacher’s certification, and then you’d gone on to teach English in a string of small town schools.

There was only one aspect out of the ordinary in your life up until now; you could never settle down in one place.. You felt a restlessness, a pull towards something you still hadn’t found, and after a couple of years in a place, it inevitably built up until it was too strong to resist. And so you packed your bags, applied for a job somewhere else, and started anew. 

You didn’t think Jericho would be much different. Small town, 5 thousand inhabitants, only spots of interest a tacky historical reconstruction site and a school full of outcasts. The same one you had applied to. Nothing much to offer. You’d give it a year or two at most. 

You didn’t really care about the fact that you were teaching outcasts. They might drink blood or howl at the moon or whatever in their spare time, but they were teenagers that had to learn to write a proper essay just like anyone else. You prided yourself in your work ethic and told that to the board when they interviewed you. Apparently they appreciated that. Or there was nobody else who had applied. There had been some accidents during the last school year, apparently. The board had repeated several times that it had been a one-off and it had been taken care of definitively.They had all seemed very defensive about the topic. 

Once again, you shrugged it off. You had no time to waste on rumors and things of the past. The school had its quirks, sure, but all schools had, each in their own way. You settled in your quarters on the school grounds, and started reviewing your lesson plans taking into account the notes left by the previous teacher. You settled in for your usual routine of lessons, tests, marking that you were familiar with by now. 

And then she barged into your life, throwing routine and predictability to the wind. 

Even with your aversion to gossip, you’d heard about her. Larissa Weems, the best principal Nevermore had ever had, mysteriously injured in the line of work, supposedly trying to protect the school, and hospitalized for months after that. When talking about her, voices dropped to a whisper out of respect - or fear, you hadn’t been able to ascertain that. 

The day she had come back, you’d have thought royalty was about to visit the school, with the amount of fretting, of preparations, of nervous energy filling the halls and rooms. You’d had to let your classes work on assignments because they had been unable to listen to one word of what you were explaining. You had rolled your eyes in the privacy of your room. Seriously, you’d seen plenty of disruptive principals in your years of teaching, but one who could be so distracting even before she had set foot back in school? That was a first. 

You felt obliged to show up as well to the welcoming committee. The whole staff was there, as well as the student body. Some had even prepared signs, and there was a white banner draped along the balcony on which was written, in red paint, a very wonky Welcome back Princ. Weems . 

It was cute that she was so beloved by her school, you thought, but you were also thinking of how to recover the day of missed lessons, and how to optimize the next days’ so as to go back on track. You tried not to be too miffed about it. 

All of the thoughts of lesson plans and all of the lingering irritation at them being disrupted fled your brain at the sight of the first foot stepping out of the car. Shiny, varnished black shoes, showing off a milky ankle, and a shapely calf that look longer than any you’d seen (not that you made a point of looking at women’s legs all the time, but sometimes your eyes did wander…)

The skin on show was sadly cut off below the knee by the modest hemline of a woolen dress and it was at that point that Nevermore’s principal exited the car in all of her towering beauty, and your mind went completely blank, cause in all of their gossip everyone in Nevermore had forgotten to mention a small, key detail about the principal.

She was stunning. 

The most beautiful woman you’d ever seen was standing before you, waving and smiling regally, as the whole school cheered. You almost didn’t notice all the jubilant ruckus, your eyes too busy raking all over her figure, as if trying to commit every single detail to memory. Her slender, elegant hands, wrapped in leather gloves. The perfectly-tailored coat, in the same fabric and color as the dress. The sparkle of her gold jewelry in the pale winter sun. The perfect proportion of her face, the way the bright red lipstick brought attention to her smile.

Her light eyes were roaming all over the crowd, as if taking stock of known faces and new entries. Finally her gaze fixed on you, and you could see a spark of amusement flicker on her face at seeing you.

You belatedly realized that you had been gaping at her like a fish out of water.

The day after you had still been beating yourself up about the humiliation at being caught slack-jawed staring at your boss when she visited you in your classroom after you were done with the day’s lessons.

She rapped against the doorframe, but strode in before you could say anything. You scrambled to your feet, awkwardly, while she covered the distance from the door to your desk in a couple of long steps. She was wearing another dress today, a tartan dress with a belt that cinched her waist, underlying the shape of her hips and chest while still being completely work-appropriate.  

“So you’re the new teacher they have hired to replace poor Collins.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I’m Larissa Weems. Usually, I have the final word on new hires. The board does a wonderful job but sometimes they lack a certain sort of practicality in their assessment of candidates, as it happened with the last hire. I wasn’t convinced by her spiel, but the board insisted and…well. I should have trusted my gut instinct.” Her eyes grew distant for a second, before focusing back on you with a hard gaze. You could see the speckles of lighter and darker blue mixing in her irises, and the perfectly applied make-up that highlighted their natural beauty.  You tried to shake yourself out of her charm. She could be trying to fire you, and you were busy ogling her! That’s not the kind of person you were! You cleared your voice, trying to think up something to say to help your case.

“I…”

“I know you have been hired already, and I am sure you are a perfect fit for the role. I’d just like to have a little chat together, nothing too formal, just getting to know each other a little bit better.” She smiled as she said that, and while you were sure it was supposed to be a polite smile, you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at that. 

She looks like a predator closing in on prey , your mind unhelpfully suggested. 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your sweaty palms and increasing heart rate. 

“O-of course, ma'am." was all you could meekily say. 

"Perfect." she purred. "Meet me at seven sharp at the Lilac Lounge. I'll have a private booth reserved."

To be continued...

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#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #larissa weems/reader #larissa weems x reader

[weemssapphic]

It is I once again. Hope you are having or have had a good day.

For Dianneking’s fic game I offer these 🪨📝 x

This isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last time I say this but I absolutely adore your writing. Whenever you post a new piece of writing my day improves <3

hi pal <3 thank you so much 🥹 I am having a good day, just made a packing list for my upcoming vacation <3 I hope you're having a good day, too!

🪨- The hardest fanfiction to write I struggled really hard writing the first part of Lipstick Stains for some reason, I can't even explain why. I had the smut part written but my brain did not want to come up with the first part for the life of me.

📝- The fanfiction you wish to rewrite I have so many WIPs that I don't really think about fics I've already posted too often - I have briefly considered revisiting One More Night however. It's the first fic I ever wrote and I've re-read it before and maybe, sometime in the distant future if I'm ever bored, I would spice it up a bit. We'll see. :)

#asks #fanfic asks #azu-zu

[dianneking]

Dangerous Games - Larissa/GN!Reader

Reader declares that jealousy doesn’t apply to them. Larissa takes it upon herself to prove a point. Will she take it too far?

TW: Explicit sexual situations, explicit language, swearing, angst, jealousy, non-exclusive relationship, mentions of love bites and bruising, emotional manipulation.

Reader has no specified gender. 

Crossposted on AO3.

Dangerous Games

Wordcount: 4378

"What do you mean, you don't believe in jealousy?" Larissa scoffed from where she was lounging on her bed gloriously naked, as you kept putting your clothes back on.

You had a sort of arrangement going on. A purely physical, no strings attached kind of arrangement: when the stress of managing and teaching a school full of teenagers with paranormal abilities got too much, either of you would call for a meeting. You would rant to each other about your frustrations, until words left the floor to frantic kissing, hands exploring each other's bodies, items of clothing flying across the room. Sometimes you made it to Larissa’s custom-built canopy bed, sometimes only to her desk. Sometimes she had you pinned to the door, a hand finding its way to the fly of your jeans, as she rutted against your thigh.

It was tawdry, it was dirty, it was highly unprofessional. It was also extremely hot. Even when you were in staff meetings that ran too long you could feel the tension building between you two, measured in stares, in the brush of your fingers against hers as you passed her some papers, in the apparently casual touch of her foot against your calves. Neither you nor she went out of your way to talk about it too much, not wanting to put a label on it that would force you to face the connection that the two of you felt for each other. As if by talking about it you would jinx it somehow.

"I think jealousy is overrated. Either you are in an exclusive relationship with someone, and you should be able to trust them not to cheat on you, or you are non-exclusive, and whomever they sleep with is none of your business. Simple as that."

"You make it sound so cold and calculated. But jealousy is illogical, darling, it’s pure unadulterated fire that burns you from within. You cannot think your way around it when you feel it. You cannot rationalize it." She sounded patronizing, as if you were but a kid who didn’t know the way of the world yet. You shrugged, not showing how that tone bothered you, reminding you of the age gap between you, just another reason why you could never aspire to have something more with this amazing woman. "I guess I've never felt it then. Or maybe it doesn't work on me."

“One day, darling, you’ll feel it too.” She promised, vague and menacing like a soothsayer.

“I guess I might. Sleep well, Larissa, I’ll see you around.” As always, you didn’t turn back when you left her room, too afraid she might be able to read on your face the longing to just stay there with her until morning.

*

You stopped in front of the teacher’s lounge, your hand already on the handle, dead in your tracks as you heard the raised voices inside. It was unusual for Larissa to be found here unless there was a meeting, she usually preferred to spend time in her study. You tried to listen in, trying to understand what was going on before barging in.

“I told you, Larissa, no.”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight, Vlad. It’s all in good fun.”

“No, it’s not. It’s unprofessional, and borderline immoral too.”

“Aw, come on, Vlad. Just the one time…who knows, maybe you’ll end up enjoying it too.”

Well. That was more than unusual. You knew that lilting, suggestive tone well, but had never heard it outside of your own meetings with Larissa.

“Hello there!”

You saw Marilyn coming up from the other side of the hallway, smiling as always, blissfully oblivious to the exchange going on into the teacher’s lounge, and you couldn’t lurk in front of the door any longer. You opened the door, and strode in, holding it open for the redhead, while your eyes fell on the two whose conversation you were interrupting. Larissa was looming over Vlad, invading his personal space,  having backed him up against the bookshelf on the far end of the lounge. His hands were up, as if trying to fend her off, while one of hers was directly beside his head, holding onto one of the shelves and half-blocking him in. Like a deer in the headlights, Vlad’s eyes darted to you and Marilyn, who candidly asked, “Is everything alright?”

The fencing coach unfroze at that, and without bothering to respond, he dashed away from his compromising position and towards the door, followed by Larissa’s voice calling after him: “When you change your mind, you know where my quarters are, Vlad!”

 Clearly, he had changed his mind at some point because when you were coming back from your usual morning run the next day, you saw him slinking out of Larissa’s rooms, still in yesterday’s rumpled clothes, his normally tidy hair sticking up in every direction. Bed hair. He looked at you, sending you a sheepish smile in lieu of a greeting, as he shrugged in a ‘What could I do?’ way.

You didn’t blame him. It was hard to say no to Larissa when she wanted something, you had some first-hand experience with that. Did they fuck all through the night, or had he been allowed to sleep there? You had never dared to ask to spend the night. You had assumed she wouldn’t want you to, it would have been part of that putting a label on whatever you had going on. And she for sure had never thought to ask. Or maybe she simply had someone else to fulfil that need.

*

It couldn’t have been Vlad, you thought as you studied the bite mark on Larissa’s thigh, while she was squirming and panting on her chair, three of your fingers knuckle-deep into her, curling up to stroke her just in the right place. Vlad was a vampire, and the imprints his canines would leave were quite different from the ones you could see from your vantage point, kneeling between Larissa’s long legs, as your tongue ran along the milky expanses, marred with bruises you surely didn’t leave.

She had yet another lover, then. You swallowed around the realization, unsure on how to properly wrap your mind around it. You were spared for the moment, as her hand came to tangle in your hair, guiding your mouth back to her folds, back to pleasuring her. You buried yourself into her, trying to lose any semblance of rational thought in her inebriating taste.

*

It felt like once you started seeing the hints, they just kept popping out more and more. The librarian’s soft blush as Larissa gave her shoulder a squeeze and left her hand there for a while, as she congratulated her on the success of her book club. The Lycan Studies teacher’s glassy eyes as the principal leaned into his personal space, asking him if he could please go into more detail about his changes to the curriculum about werewolf mating habits, such a fascinating topic. Lingering glances, casual touches that you had never given any relevance to suddenly took on deeper meaning.

Even the school nurse wasn’t allowed medical neutrality, apparently. You had the dubious pleasure of discovering this as you were accompanying a young gorgon who had managed to stone his right arm from the shoulder down in an attempt to avoid a surprise quiz (it hadn’t worked, as he still had his left hand to type with).

“I never knew you had such a passion for red wine, Mx Lin, you’ll have to drop by my office sometime or another, so you can sample the best I have to offer.”

“Oh, well Principal, I hardly think that–”

“I insist. Drinking them all alone by myself would be such a waste…some things are meant to be enjoyed in company.”

You irritatedly cleared your throat. Flirting was all fun and everything, but some things were best kept away from the students. While the nurse had the decency to look sheepish, Larissa looked down at you, unrepentant, a predatory smirk gracing her crimson lips as she let her eyes roam over your stiff body.

*

It had been the longest week of your life. A week piled up with evidence that pointed all in one direction, towards a flashing neon sign that you were trying your best to still ignore. But all illusions have to break at some point when confronted with reality.

Apparently, your breaking point was the resident normie botanist.

“Marilyn?”

“Oh hi, there! I didn’t know Larissa had another meeting after ours! She really goes hard at it, doesn’t she?”

“I…I’m sorry?”

“I mean, it’s a Friday night and she has one-on-one meetings with the both of us back to back…she sure can be intense, can’t she?”

“I’m sure she can…”

“Well, I’ll be off! Don’t let her tie you up for the whole evening, it is Friday after all!” She waved at you and left, skipping down the hallway, oblivious to your sputtering, or maybe ignoring it willingly, as you tried to ascertain whether she was being suggestive on purpose or if it was your mind that went straight to the gutter. Unable – or maybe unwilling – to solve that specific mystery, you knocked lightly on Larissa’s door to announce your presence, and pushed the door open without waiting for her reply.

The office was partly plunged in the shadows, the main source of light being the flickering flames of the fire, and a couple of small lamps scattered across the room. It wasn’t the sort of ambience you would have at the end of a business meeting. It felt cozy, intimate, more suited to a rendezvous of different nature than discussing lectures and school funds for greenhouses.

Was Marilyn yet another of Larissa’s seemingly endless string of lovers? The bubbly redhead that skipped down the corridors muttering country songs to herself? That Marilyn, who always looked like the epitome of the oblivious virgin? What did she have to offer to someone like Larissa? Was it some sort of sick corruption fantasy?

Your eyes sought the familiar figure of your boss and found her using the glass of her window as a mirror as she fixed her hair. She had probably messed it up running her own hands through it, while going over the paperwork, it didn't have to mean anything. You let your gaze drop to her wrinkled pencil skirt, it could have been due to a long day of sitting at the desk. Even within your own mind you didn’t know why you kept trying to make up excuses, but when she turned towards you, a sultry smile on her face and a greeting on her lips, you couldn’t help but stare transfixed at her mouth as you slowly made her way towards her, as if sleepwalking.

Beside her bottom lip, there was a smudge of lipstick.

In a different color to the one she was wearing.

A color matching Marilyn’s coral pink.

“Are you alright darling?”

You ignored her question as well as the moniker, simply advancing towards her like an unstoppable wave. You walked right into her space and lifted a hand to her face.

“You…” Your voice felt rough, dry. As if you had forgotten how to speak. You cradled her cheek in your hand, an unexpected jolt of pain coursing though you when she leaned into your touch, her long lashes fluttering closed for a second as if unconsciously relishing in the contact with you. She was such a good actress, no wonder so many of you had fallen into her lure.

“You have a smudge here.” You tracked the pad of your thumb against it, removing the proof. You searched her gaze, unsure and possibly afraid of what you’d find there. She held your stare, no trace of guilt and regret in her eyes, but a weird questioning intensity, as if she herself was searching for something in you, and not finding it. Maybe she was looking for whatever she found in all of her other lovers. Or maybe they didn’t have it, either, always coming up short to Larissa Weems’ high standards.

"Jesus, Larissa. I get it that you are the principal and so you’re good at multitasking, but you sure need to worry about crowd control in here." You tried to sound light and teasing about it, but your joke fell flat, weighted down by the vein of bitterness in your voice.

"Whatever could you possibly mean by that?" The intensity in her gaze was suddenly gone, supplanted by a flirty playfulness in her voice that rubbed you the wrong way. You wondered if she used the same tone with them as well. Did she tailor her flirting to whomever was in her clutches at the time, or she was always like this, and all of you simply had a thing for your hot, tall, domineering boss?

Not that you could be one to talk. The minute she had flirted with you the first time around, you had been completely captivated by her, ecstatic at the chance you had been offered. That fumbling first time together had been one of your most treasured memories until this day, but it was somehow turning sour as you thought about it now.

"How many?"

"I'm sorry?"

"How many people have you fucked in Nevermore? The whole staff? Maybe one or two students of age, too? I hope you still have the morals to leave the minors be."

"There's no need to be crass, darling. One might think you are being jealous."

The word hit you like a slap and you took a step back, away from her. Was that the reason for the roiling pit of resentment at the bottom of your stomach? It couldn't be. It was just disappointment. You honestly thought that what you two had was somewhat special, even if purely physical. Instead, you had found out that you were just one of many. Another bed warmer in the principal’s collection.

"Of course I'm not." You answered, mechanically.

"You say it, but somehow I don't believe you."

"I mean it though. I don't have any claim on you, Larissa. You made it pretty evident in the past week."

She looked like she was getting angry with this conversation, her hand gripping the back of her chair until her knuckles were white. "Is that so? Then why should you care how many people I choose to sleep with?"

"I don't! I just…want to know whether it meant at least something to you, or if I'm just another fucking notch on your bedpost."

"You know…" she prowled closer, and this time you couldn’t move away, frozen to the spot as she bent her head and started to kiss the side of your neck. Her perfume enveloped your senses, making you lightheaded, while her hands played with the hem of your shirt, slipping under it, grazing the side of your torso, cold against your almost feverish skin. You were already beginning to give in, throwing your head back to give her better access to your throat, to suck on it, leaving a necklace of bruises as she often did (you always had to wear turtlenecks for a few days after one of your meetings with her, and she seemed to take great pleasure in that).

But this time she ignored your exposed neck, choosing to let her lips ghost across yours, so that when she spoke again, you could feel her breath on you. "You can admit that you were wrong. That you are jealous after all. That seeing me with someone else makes you want to scream from the rooftops that you want me to be yours and yours alone…Your little secret would be safe with me." She closed the distance between your mouths, pressing her lips to yours in a hard, unyielding kiss, her tongue immediately trying to gain entrance to spar with yours.

The same mouth, lips and tongue who had been ravishing Marilyn not five minutes ago, if you could put two and two together. And that sum was suddenly too much for you.

You felt like a vat of burning tar had been poured inside of you. Heavy, and scorching hot. “Jealousy is illogical, darling, it’s pure unadulterated fire that burns you from within.” Her own voice resonated in your brain, mocking, patronizing, like that day when apparently everything had started to go wrong.

“You can admit that you were wrong.” You felt yourself go rigid as your mind caught up to your emotions. You had been had. You were jealous. The mere thought of Larissa being in this same position with countless other people filled you with indescribable rage. And she knew it, and did it on purpose. That was probably the most painful aspect of it all: the realization that it had been nothing but a game to her.

Suddenly you felt just sad, dirty, and used. Whatever connection you had deluded yourself into thinking the two of you had, was obviously just a bit of fun to Larissa. Something that could be thrown to the side to prove her point in a debate you had almost forgotten about.

Expendable. Like a pet that started misbehaving and was unceremoniously dropped in front of a shelter.

You pushed her away, your eyes filling with tears of rage and disappointment. She even had the audacity to look at you with a surprised expression, as if you detaching yourself from her irresistible lips was the last thing she imagined could happen. Like you were there just to do her bidding. Another one of her malleable playthings. One she could manipulate into feeling whatever she wanted to, to appease her ego.

“Fuck you, Larissa.” The sentence came out angry, curt and it didn’t make you feel any better.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Fuck you. I’m done here. You can go shag some other fucktoy from your collection when you’re in the mood.”

You turned on your heel, leaving her warmth behind as you crossed the room to the door in short, agitated steps.

She caught up with you as you were fighting against the lock, and held the door closed, leaning against it with one hand, the other roughly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around.

"Let me out."

You took in her face, still beautiful even when hardened by anger. Her voice was low and menacing as she spoke to you: "If you think for one second that you can just insult me and leave, you have vastly misunderstood me, darling."

"Yeah well, I'm starting to realize as well that I misunderstood you."

"Is that it? How so?"

You felt tears coming back to your eyes, and you looked away from her, towards your feet, trying not to show her your hurt. A pointless endeavor, really, because you were sure it filtered into the words you spoke next.

"I thought you were a kind, strong person. Someone who put the good of Nevermore before anything else, even your personal life. And I accepted it, admired it even. That's why I never asked you more than what we had – she already has her hands full with all her duties, I thought, a relationship that goes beyond the purely physical level is clearly not what she wants."

You scoffed, and it came out as more of a sob than anything else.

"Of course, I didn't realize that your hands were full because they were down any pants you could find… more fool me I guess, to think that what we had was something more than another roll in the hay for you."

"You…wanted to make it something more?" the disbelief coming from her voice piled more pain on your poor abused heart.

"Ridiculous, right? To think that I truly and well fell for you, how pitiful. At least I know you won't be left alone to take care of your frustrations if I leave our little arrangement."

"Darling, I…"

"You made it pretty obvious that I don't mean jack shit to you, so if you please let me out, I'd appreciate it."

"It was not real."

"Yeah, I realized it as well. Spare me the pity."

"No, that's not what I meant!"

"Then what on Earth did you mean, Larissa? I'm not following anymore."

"I… I just wanted to prove you wrong. To make you admit that you are jealous. Of me."

"Yeah, I gathered as much. Congratulations, you've won. You've also fucked me up and broke my heart while you were at it, but that's not something you care about, do you?"

"That was never my intention, none of it was real."

"You keep saying that, and I get that you don't think twice about sleeping around, but we're all real people, with real emotions. Someone was bound to get hurt at some point. That someone was me, just my luck."

"I've never slept with anyone else." She murmured this, as if it was a confession, and you couldn't help the strangled laugh that fell from your lips. "Unbelievable. You're just…” You rubbed your hands on your face, your incredulity at the sheer nerve of her making it hard to put into words. “God, Larissa, gaslighting might have worked if you hadn't given me time and time again proof of your activities. Wasn't it the point of this little game of yours? To let me see that you have just as much fun with all the others?"

"I know how it seems, but I never did anything with them. I…used my powers so it would look like I did."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

You looked up at her, disbelief written plainly on your face. Why couldn’t she just let you go? There was nothing you could offer that she couldn’t find in all the others, so what was the point of this whole production?

"It's the truth. I did nothing more than flirt with other people. I shifted the love bites and the lipstick on myself."

"What about Vlad?"

"I was trying to convince me to help with this ruse. He refused.”

"Larissa, I saw him coming out of your rooms one morning."

"I know. It was me."

You let yourself slowly slide along the door until you were sitting on the floor, hiding your face in your hands. You really didn’t know what to think now. Was she being serious, or was this another elaborate plot?

"You have a lot of issues woman."

"I know. I said I was sorry."

"Actually no, you didn't."

"I'm saying it now, then. I am truly sorry, darling. I fucked everything up to prove a point."

"You really did."

The conversation, the whole week was spinning before your closed eyes, as you tried to make any sense of it, and of what it all meant. Was it really just an illusion? And even if it was, where did this leave you? You had confessed your feelings for her, there was no way you could now go back to the no-strings-attached dalliance you had before. And you didn’t want to, either.

You felt the warmth from her body seep into yours as she sat beside you, her hand coming to rest on your shoulder. Your traitorous heart leapt in your chest, beating faster just because of that little touch. Oh, the hold this woman still had on you. It was unfair. You wished that you could instantly turn all of your feelings for her to hatred instead. That would make this all easier to go through. If you hated her, you could leave this room and never come back except in a professional setting.

What would that even look like? To set your eyes on Principal Weems and just feel resentment for her, until it dulled into nothingness, leaving behind only the memory of feelings. To listen to her talk during meetings and not be captivated by her smooth, melodious voice. To hate the way her lips quirked up when something went her way.

You couldn’t even imagine it, so in love you were with her, still.

“Is there…is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Larissa,” it came out tiredly, you were   “Are you already trying to get back in my pants?”

“No! I meant… I am sorry, and I do care about you, and what we have.”

“I…I’m not sure I can trust you enough right now. I am afraid I wouldn’t be able to go back to whatever we had before. I…I don’t think I could take it.”

“Can I take you on a date?”

“What?” The question came out strangled, disbelieving. Never in your wildest fantasies you had dared to dream Principal Larissa Weems would be asking you out. It just wasn’t how the real world worked. “Is this another kind of game? Because I told you I’ve fallen for you?”

“I…I didn’t think you’d want to have anything more with me. That was why it made me so angry when you said you weren’t jealous. I thought it meant you didn’t care. I wanted you to care. About me.”

“Larissa, I’ve been head over heels for you for ages. You never hinted that you wanted anything more. I don’t want your pity.”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured to agree. I am your boss, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to. It is one thing to release some tension together, I didn’t think you’d want to…be seen with me.”

She dropped her gaze to the ground as she said this, and she suddenly didn’t look like the confident principal you were used to seeing. She looked afraid and lonely and small. You brought your hand to her chin, lifting it so that her eyes could meet your own.

“Larissa, there’s nothing in the world I would love more than to date you. But if we want to make it work, we both need to talk to each other, okay? No more games, no more assumptions. Deal?”

Her incredulous smile lit up her whole face, as her mesmerizing eyes once again searched yours, and sparkled with joy at finally finding there what they were looking for.

“Deal.”

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[dianneking]

Nightmares (Larissa x Reader comfortfic)

What??? A comfort fluffy fic from the Angst Fairy themselves? Well, what can I say. I like to try things out. Also I love a challenge. Also, it felt right to write this fic today and so I did (who am I to argue with the Muses?). All of that aside, I hope you enjoy!

Tags: Fluff, Comfort, Nightmares, Established Relationship, Second-Person POV, Teacher!Reader, Ungendered Reader, Lots of Cuddling. Wordcount: 1.719 words. AO3 link in title below!

This fic is dedicated to all the people who have offered me comfort. There's many out there, and you all know who you are and are all precious to me, but in particular I want to mention Cat and Cal @tenderheartgrumpymind, @scream-queenlover, @bigolgay, and @heidsworld. I am grateful for all of you.

Nightmares (Larissa/Reader)

You looked at her silhouette in the darkness. She was by your side, the faint light from the stars filtering through the window just to glide on her chiseled cheekbones, kissing her forehead, for once relaxed in the deep embrace of sleep, where no worries could reach her and no decisions had to be taken.  Her breath came out in slow, rhythmic puffs, so soft that you could only hear them thanks to the total tranquility of the night around you. Usually that would be enough. You’d wake up in the night, and just fall asleep after a little while, allowing yourself in the meantime to bask in her beauty, in how lucky you were to see this side of Larissa Weems. The side that had shed her armor, the signs of her power. The side with her hair rolled up and held in place by a silken scarf. It had taken so long to get to this point. For your relationship to progress far enough for her to trust you with the whole of herself.

She had been cautious at the start. You could see she was holding back, giving you her whole attention but not her whole heart. You could understand why. The both of you were not at your first relationship, you both had been hurt, you both had been burned. You knew that sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in the excitement of something new, of a new special connection with someone, just to discover that that that person was not at all how you had imagined them to be, or maybe they were, but still for all the affection held for one another, you simply weren’t compatible.

And so people came and go, and you both had found yourself older, and less trusting towards potential partners. Always expecting something to go wrong, because it had always done so. You could see the same reticence in Larissa and – maybe paradoxically – you had been reassured by that.

And as time had proven, it had not been a flash in the pan. While the physical attraction was there and undeniable (how could it not? It was Larissa Weems you were talking about! The closest thing to a goddess that the earth was blessed with!), it was not and had never been just sex between you two, there had always been hope to see it become something else, something more – and the determination to try your best to make it so.

Date after date, evening in front of the fire after evening in front of the fire, you had slowly grown to know Larissa. She had opened up to you as you had to her – the good, the bad, the ugly. She had slowly let the “perfect principal” mask fall, and had shown you her flaws, she had candidly told you how she was aware of many of them, how she still was working on them, trying to get better at them.

“I had given up, you know?” she had confided in you once, as you were sipping wine staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace “I thought, well, I thought I was too old. What’s the point of trying to change after 40? I am already too set in my ways. Ha. Ironic, isn’t it? A shapeshifter who can’t change.” She had snorted at that. A loud, inelegant sound that was perfect precisely because it wasn’t perfect. It was real. “But then I saw you. You came to Nevermore and you took each day as a personal challenge. You brought so much good to the academy, to the students, to the staff itself! You fixed things that I hadn’t even realized were broken. And suddenly, I felt like I wanted to change as well. I still do. I want to be better. If Nevermore, that has been stagnant for centuries can be changed for the better, why can’t I?”

The question had hung in the air, and you had understood the unsaid things hidden between the lines. Somehow, in your self-appointed crusade to make the academy a better place, you had given her hope. Hope for herself. Hope she hadn’t allowed herself to have.

That night was the night you had realized how in love you were with Larissa Weems.

Maybe, it was the night she fell in love with you, too.

Even if you were both living on campus, it had taken two full years before you had decided to move in together. Well, it was more of you going to live in Larissa’s large, luxurious principal quarters. That had come well after you two had officially announced your relationship status, first to the board, then to the staff, and finally to both students and parents.

That had been petrifying. You had been afraid and so had Larissa, even if she showed it less than you, used as she was to have her mask always firmly in place. If it came down between choosing between your relationship and Nevermore, you both knew what her first choice would be. You had explicitly talked about it. You had pulled numbers. You had checked the rulebook. You had prepared as much as possible, hoping that it wouldn’t have to come to giving up your work to stay with her.

You would have done it.

You both knew it, as much as you knew that Larissa would never give up hers.

But luck had been on your side. You had only been showered with positivity and kindness and heartfelt well-wishes. There had been no difficulties, not mutterings, nothing. The only awkward moment had been when the Addams family had expressed their felicitations by sending about a dozen severed heads “To bring horrid prosperity to the new couple”. But even that had made a wry smile come to Larissa’s face, and she had just shaken her head and had the severed ones brought to the biology lab (“Well they’re here already, might as well use them for science”).

It felt like yesterday and yet it had been seven years ago. Your tenth-year anniversary was drawing closer and closer. By now you knew each other like the back of your hand. You knew what made each other tick, you knew what brought comfort. You enjoyed simply spending time together, each immersed in their own activity, and yet able to lift your eyes and bask in each other’s company.

Which brought you to your current predicament.

She knew you suffered from nightmares, and she had told you over and over again to wake her up if you ever needed comfort after one of them. You knew that. And you knew you wouldn’t mind if the positions were reversed. Sleep be damned, if Larissa needed you, you’d stay awake for days on end.

You stretched your hand over, letting it hover in the air above her shoulder. Was this okay? Were you really allowed to? No matter how many years passed, it felt like you were back to being Larissa’s employee, waiting outside of her study, hand just about to knock on her door, wondering if you weren’t just about to waste her precious time.

You could picture her, shaking her head at you, “Don’t be silly, darling! You never disturb me.” And smile at you that precious smile, the smile she reserved for you and you alone, the smile that made her eyes light up and dance. Even just imagining – remembering – that smile gave you strength. You brought you hand down softly on her shoulder, a gentle caress, a tender touch.

“Love?” You tried to keep the pleading out of your voice. She was immediately awake, used to being on call for any emergency in the school.

“What’s it, darling? Everything alright?” Her British accent was even thicker when her voice was still wrapped in sleep. It was adorable.

“Nightmare. Could…Could you hold me?” You hated how little your voice sounded. How it had broken halfway through. You hadn’t even realized how close to tears you had been before you had woken her up, but you could feel them filling your eyes now, making her lovely silhouette wobbly in the darkness.

“Oh darling, of course. Come here.” She turned towards you, opening her arms. You lost no time diving into them, hiding your face in the crook of her neck, the soft fabric of the scarf pleasant against your forehead. “Oh darling, that bad?” You nodded against her neck. You had put up a brave face, not even realizing yourself how much the images and the sensations from your dream had shaken you.

She hummed and you could feel the vibrations against your own body. “Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head. It was going away anyways, the dark, cold tendrils of it being chased away by the warmth of the embrace Larissa was wrapping you in.

“Very well. Then you can just relax. I am here. I have you. You are safe.” You could feel your legs entwining together, skin against skin. She had always been so warm. You nuzzled her neck further, breathing in her scent. Patchouli and black pepper and something else, something comforting and relaxing, something utterly and completely Larissa. You felt her wrap her hands around your back, pulling you tight against her soft body. You felt her lips press a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You were enveloped in a cocoon of comfort, with the world so far away, with all its burden of sadness and hatred and worries. There was nothing of that that could reach you here, in the safe nest of your lover’s arms.

One of her hands started moving up and down your back, rubbing it lightly, soothingly, hypnotically. You focused all of your attention on that, on that single, simple movement. You didn’t know how long you were there, soaking up her affection, her care, her love. Slowly, you felt your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, your breathing slowing down, until finally you fell asleep in Larissa’s arms.

You couldn’t see the small, tender smile that graced her face when she looked down at your sleeping form, nor the second, even more loving kiss she pressed on your hair.

“Sleep well, love.” She whispered in the darkness of night.

And you did.  

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[dianneking]

On The Seashore (Brienne x Reader)

Hi all! For my weekly fic challenge, @scream-queenlover suggested this prompt (#2584) @promptsforthestrugglingauthor :

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay home?" "I'm sorry…did you just fucking propose?”

You and Brienne have been adventuring together for years, and while you enjoy the friendship and camaraderie that the two of you share, you can't help but wish for more, maybe…but is it in the cards?

Tags: Brienne x Reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Brienne is an adventurer, Aroace spectrum, Brienne is on the aroace spectrum,  Friendly Banter, Dialogue-Heavy, Queerplatonic Vibes, Second Person POV, Reader is a woman.

I am not sure how it turned into a queerplatonic fic with a Brienne on the aro/ace spectrum but hey, happy belated aro/ace week. Link to AO3 in the title below:

On The Seashore

“I swear, if I have to shake sand from my boots one more time, I'll snap.” You grumbled, pulling once again your weathered traveling boots on your feet. 

“Might I remind you that getting this close to the coastline was your idea, milady?” 

“Brienne, it's been three years we're on the road together, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me by my name?” 

You could see her lips slightly tilting upwards and you knew her dry wit was about to come out to play once more.

“One more time, milady.”

You snorted. “One more time, my ass. I haven't been a lady since we took to the road. Just a common adventurer, that's all.”

“There's absolutely nothing common about you, milady, and if anyone dares to even imply anything of the sort, I'd be ready to duel them.” 

“Yeah we've learned that in Sandstone with that one guy who was a little bit too friendly…”

“He grabbed your arm!” 

“I know but we were trying to keep a low profile and you beating him up didn't really…”

“He insulted your honor! And mine too!”

You sighed. “Yes I know. Let's try not to beat anyone up in this village though. I'd like to lay low for a while.” 

“Well we still have half a day of walking in front of us before we get there, that is, if Your Grace doesn't keep stopping every ten minutes to shake sand off your precious feet.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting the whole beach in my boots.” 

The two of you kept going towards the village, bickering as you had become accustomed to over the time spent together. 

“This must be heaven!” You kicked your feet up, forgetting your previous adversity for the sand, your boots next to your wicker seat in the cool shade of the palm trees. 

“You have pretty low standards for the afterlife, milady, if all you require is a seat in the shade.” 

“Brienne! Was your mission successful?” 

You looked up at her silhouette, the sun behind her transforming her short hair in a golden halo. She looked even more like a goddess than usual.

“I have drinks and I have work opportunities so yes, I'd say my mission was indeed successful. And no duels yet, so you can rest easily.”

She handed you a tankard, keeping the second one in her hand. 

You lost no time chugging down the first half in a long sip.

“Ahhhhhh now that's something that was sorely missing in my heaven. A drink! I could kiss you right now, Brienne!”

She did not reply, taking a sip of her own tankard, but as she sat down in the wicker chair next to your own, you noticed her ears were slightly pinker. How had she managed to get sunburned in such a short time? Oh well, she was very fair-skinned so it probably took very little. That might be why she always had her hood or her helmet on most days. But the Dornian heat and the quiet reputation of this village had convinced even the uptight Brienne of Tarth to lighten her kit. 

“So you were talking about work?” 

She swallowed her drink and replied, her voice uncharacteristically flustered:

“Yes. Hmm, well, they're looking for night guards for their granary. They've had quite the bountiful harvest and they want to keep it safe until the village fair.”

“Are there actual threats to the granary?” 

“Not really. Seems to be mostly a precaution.”

“So a cushy gig. How's the pay?” 

“Not great, but they'd let us stay here at this cottage on the beach for free and add one golden coin each per week.”

“Sunshine, the seaside, free lodging and decent pay? Sign me up for life!”

“What about your beloved adventures? What about being a free spirit and roaming the world?”

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay here?"

The silence that followed alerted you that something was wrong. You turned to your companion.

“Brienne?”

She was looking at you as if you had sprouted a second head. 

"I'm sorry...did you just fucking propose?”

Woah. Brienne of Tarth, swearing? That was almost unheard of from your very proper companion, and only in very serious situations. 

Not that you’d mind. Marrying her, that is. Quite the contrary. The past three years had easily been the happiest of your life, and you knew it had to do with her. Her constant presence by your side, her dry humor, her unwavering support and loyalty…she had become a column you hadn’t even realized how much you were leaning against until you took a step back and allowed yourself to admire her. And she was beautiful. Gods, was she beautiful. 

You set your tankard down beside your chair, and turned to her, lifting your chin, fixing your eyes in hers with equal parts trepidation and boldness. 

“What if I did?” 

“This is not a subject for jesting, milady!”

“Who said I was jesting? And for all the Gods, stop calling me milady like I am some sort of court princess.”

“But you cannot...We wouldn’t…We’re two women!” 

“Believe me, I noticed.” You smirked up at her, letting your eyes roam her tall figure, allowing her to see the appreciation in your eyes. She spluttered, her face turning a bright red that had no correlation with her previous sun exposure. (Had her reddened ears from before also been…oh. Well. Who’d have known. You might even have a chance then.)

“Milady! I…That’s not appropriate! The law doesn’t-”

“Brienne. For once, this is not about the law, religion, traditions, nor customs.” You stood up, and placed your hands on the armrests of her seat, boxing her in. Tall as she was, her head was level with yours. You had never been so close to her. You could see beads of perspiration crowning her forehead, you could drown in the blueness of her eyes, wide open in shock, both at your boldness and at your closeness.

She hadn’t pushed you away though. That had to count for something.

“Brienne?”

“Y-yes?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hesitant and softer than you’d ever heard before. This was not Brienne the warrior speaking. She was Brienne the woman. 

The woman you’d fallen for. 

“I am going to tell you something. You just say the word, and we won’t have to talk about this again. We’ll go back to our adventuring as it was before and nothing will have changed. But I don’t want you to think this is some sort of joke. I am serious.”

She nodded, and you could see her lower lip quivering slightly, and her eyes widening even more. 

“There’s nobody else in the whole world I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else I would gladly take an arrow for, nobody else I want to guard my back as I guard theirs. If there’s anything that the past three years have taught me is that my days of lonely wandering are done, as long as I can have you by my side. Would…would you consider becoming more than just traveling companions?”

She bit her lip, and let her gaze drop to her knees, as if unable to look you in the eyes anymore.

Oh. 

The silence stretched for what felt like ages. The usually pleasant sounds of waves crashing against the seashore and seagulls crying out to each other felt like a dissonant song to your ears, when all you wanted to hear was her voice.

But you guessed her silence was telling you all there was to know. 

“Very well.” You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice as you straightened up, hands detaching from the wicker armrests, setting your companion free once again. “I’ll just… go check the water’s temperature. Be back in a bit.” 

You almost scoffed at yourself. Sure. Check the water temperature. Like you gave a damn about the ocean right now. It could all dry up for all you cared. 

You resisted the urge to kick at the sand in anger and frustration though. Mainly because you knew Brienne could be watching you, and you wanted to keep what little decorum you could. How could you be so stupid? To think that she might return your feelings, that you might have a chance with her. Ha. Clearly the blazing sun of Dorne had burnt off your common sense. 

You let the cool seawater lap at your bare feet, forcing yourself to look at the horizon and take a deep breath of salty breeze. 

It was okay. You’d gone through heartbreak before. You’d move on. 

Another deep intake of breath.

You would not allow those tears that you felt prickling at your eyelids to fall. You were a grown woman. An adventurer. Not a silly girl with a crush. 

A third breath. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds of seagulls, trying to shove all the feelings back in the little blackened and beaten container you called heart. 

“Nobody has ever told me that.”

“HOLY SH- Brienne, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You twirled towards her, a hand on your chest as you tried to get your breathing back in control. How a woman of her size had managed to sneak behind you without you noticing was a testament both to her athleticism and to how out of it you were.

She pinned you with her gaze, hard and unflinching. The soft, blushing Brienne was gone. This was Brienne the warrior, once again. You realized you had fallen for her, too. 

“Nobody has ever…wanted me.” She said that as if it was part question, part accusation. You didn’t know what to make of it. You shrugged.

“Well, apparently they’re all dumb as rocks and with no functioning eyes.”

She snorted. An inelegant sound that you found as endearing as the rest of her. 

“Seriously, Brienne. You probably have a lot of people that admire you from afar. I’m just the one with the least amount of self-preservation instincts of them all.”

“You seem to have been doing pretty well so far.”

“Well, if you don’t smite me for daring to punch above my weight, I should live to see another day!” You smiled up at her, cheekily, trying to lighten up the mood. You weren’t going to give up on the friendship and camaraderie you two had built together just because your advances had been turned down. A fool, you might be, but not an utter imbecile. 

You could see her lips pull up at the corners in a tiny but unmistakable smile at your antics.

“There it is! The smile of mercy! I shall live somewhat longer! Yay!”

She shook her head and gave you a small shove, almost throwing you completely off-balance. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ll take impossible as a title over milady anytime, so yep, that’s who I am! Also, please don’t throw me into the ocean, I can’t swim.”

“You can’t?”

“Nope! I’m a land rat, not a sea rat. Can you?”

“Of course! Everyone on Tarth learns how to.”

“Well, you’ll have to teach me at some point, but throwing me in is not how I’d like to go about it, thank you very much.”

Her hand landed on your shoulder, gripping it strongly, and you looked up to see that the smile had gone, and her expression was now closed off, and serious. 

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.” She ground out, as if it was physically difficult for her to even say it. 

“To teaching me how to swim?”

“No, to a… relationship. I…I like to spend time with you.” She looked like she was telling the truth but also like she was extremely uncomfortable doing so. You felt your heart break again, this time for her.

“As do I, but we can still have that. This is not an ultimatum, Brienne, I would never put you in that position.” Just the thought she would be willing to start a relationship she clearly wasn’t keen on not to lose your company was…both horrifying and heartwarming, to be honest. 

“It’s not that. I…I am not good with…romance. It doesn’t come as easy to me as it seems to be for other people. I don’t know how to go about it.”

You put your own hand on top of hers, on your shoulder, trying to find the right words.

“Hey. There is no right or wrong way. And there is no hurry. We can give it a try and see where it goes. If not, we’ll just be good friends that adventure together, alright?”

She seemed to ponder this, her eyes on your hand covering her own. You gave her the time to do so. 

“I would like that.”

You smiled tenderly up at her. This was so hard for her, always used to be the paradigm of perfection, of valor, of morals. The fact that she was able to challenge herself enough to go out on a limb with a relationship for you, of all people, made your heart skip a beat in your chest. 

“We will take things as slowly as you’d like, and you feel free to tell me at any time if you’re uncomfortable, okay?”

You could see the tension leave her eyes, and her face opened up in a hopeful smile. 

“You’d do that…for me?”

“But of course! We have all the time in the world, milady!” You smirked, throwing the title back at her and seeing her resigned grimace at the nickname.

“No more miladys, alright?” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years! Now. That drink is getting warm and that’s not something we can allow. Shall we?”

You gallantly offered her your hand to hold in a very bad imitation of a nobleman asking a woman at court to dance.  She shook her head, but accepted your hand, and you both turned your back to the sun, looking at your conjoined shadows on the sand in front of you with a look of incredulous joy on both of your faces. 

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[dianneking]

Breaking the Silence (Larissa/Reader)

Summary: You cannot bear the silence that surrounds your rendezvous with Larissa, you need to know where you stand with each other. But there might not be any coming back once the silence is shattered…

Tags: Angst with a happy ending (finally back on my turf), emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of sexual situations (nothing graphic), swearing, miscommunication, pining, gender neutral Reader, present tense.

Words: 1688 - AO3 link here or in title below.

Breaking the Silence

You look at her sinuous shape, languidly draped on her couch; at her half-lidded eyes; at the way her legs are slightly parted, in a wordless invite. Normally, you’d take that offering, you’d rush to be there where she wants you. But today that is not enough for you.

Today you want answers. 

“What are we even doing, Larissa?”

The change is sudden. In a fraction of a second, you can see her walls climbing back up, the sensual, alluring smile falling off her face, leaving the polished mask of Principal Weems behind. Not Larissa. She only was there when she was fucking you.

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly all of your bravado seems to leave your body, and you start shaking. You’ve never talked about it. The two of you never acknowledged this thing going on between you.

The first time it had happened almost by accident. You two had been arguing over something you couldn’t even remember anymore. Something to do with funding, or your lesson plans maybe. One moment you were on opposite sides of her table, staring daggers at each other – each too stubborn to concede their point –, the next her hand had grabbed you by the collar and her mouth had crashed against yours, hard, demanding, relentless.

The rushed lovemaking that had followed had been much of the same. Quick, rigorous, tough. Just like her. Once it had ended, the both of you had tidied up your clothes in silence, and in silence you had left her office, the thrum of gratification beating deep in your heart. At that time, you didn’t need words to be satisfied, you were content just with the spark of passion between you two.

Neither of you gave a name to the hungry kisses you two shared after that, to the way she pressed you against the wall when you were supposed to go over the budgeting, hands instead fumbling to get to your skin through the layers of clothing. Neither of you even acknowledged that it happened.

You didn’t talk about it the first time you kneeled between her thighs, her hand tangled in your hair guiding you without words. Not a word about the time she returned the favor.

But as time went by you started feeling antsy. You stole glances at her, noticing how beautiful she was when she allowed herself to give up control for a handful of moments. How her head was thrown back, exposing her long, pale neck, how her forehead corrugated more and more until with little more than a sigh she let go, her face went slack with contentment and relaxation and when she opened her eyes there was a small spark of euphoria dancing in the blue depths.

You fell irrevocably in love with her.

For a while that was enough, too. You were in love with her, and you had the privilege of having these moments with her. Surely, surely that could be enough for you, right? You didn’t have to rock the boat, you didn’t have to break the silence.

Except time passed and then you had to, love choking you up worse than any hand ever could.

You had to, because you felt like you were going insane keeping those three little words unsaid when they were all you could think of when you were with her.

You had bitten your lips one time too many, and there was no way you could keep going if all it was to her was simply a way to blow off some steam.

“It’s been six months of…whatever this is, and we have never talked about it.”

You can see she’s angry. You broke the routine the two of you had. The silent routine of seduction. You stopped the game and she’s not in control anymore. She hates that, you know it all too well. Even when she gives up control when you are together, it has always been on her terms and her terms alone. She doesn’t like to be blindsided like that. She glowers at you, a silent command to give this up before it all blows up in your face. You ignore the warnings, jaw jutting out in a show of a defiance you don’t feel.

“You never seemed to mind that.”

“Things have changed.”

“How so? Why the sudden need to stir the pot? Have you had enough of this? Bored already? Tired of our little game?” You know she’s just lashing out defensively but that doesn’t make it any less painful.

“I want more.”

Silence welcomes your muttered sentence. A silence that feels cold, unwelcoming.

“I beg your pardon?” she emphasizes every word, spitting them out like venom.

“I cannot do this anymore…I want more.” You try to explain, frustrated at how difficult it is to put your feelings into words now that you finally picked up the courage to speak. If that even counts as speaking - you yourself can hardly hear your own broken voice over the thundering rhythm your heart is beating in your chest.

She presses her lips together, and you can see the fury in the way her nostrils flare, in the way her eye that were already unforgiving, now harden into flint, eyebrows knitted downwards in a frown. Her hand shakes slightly as she slowly unfurls it from her side, extending the whole arm to point in the direction of the door.

“Get out.”

You stay where you are, as if rooted in place, and you stare at the way outrage spills over her face. She’s still so beautiful even when she’s mad at you. You think you can see a deep flicker of hurt within her eyes, too. Hurt at losing her plaything? Her fuck buddy? Whatever you had been for her? You don’t know.

She curls her fingers around the empty wine glass and you only have a split second to realize what she’s about to do before it comes hurtling towards you. You duck, more out of instinct than out of any rational thought.

The glass crashes against the wall behind you, and over that sound comes Larissa’s snarl, more cutting than the shards behind you: “You want more? Go! There’s the whole world for you! Get the fuck out and get whatever else I couldn’t give you.”

Hearing her swear shakes you more than her throwing her glass at you has.

Well.

You have gotten your answer. It’s her hand, once again pointing towards the door. Not much space left for interpretation anymore. No more wondering about how she might feel. That’s what you wanted, right?

Then why does if suddenly feel so hard to breathe? Why does it feel like one enormous glass shard has lodged itself in the middle of your chest? You heart got broken. Just like the silence did. Just like the glass. You curse yourself for not being able to settle for what you had, for stupidly craving more, for bringing this up on yourself.

But since breaking the silence is what brought you here, you might as well spit it all out before you go.

What do you have left to lose after all?

The only sound in the room is the slight panting of Larissa’s rage, and your whisper resonates louder that you thought it would, carrying your deepest secret out in the open.

“It’s you.” You take a deep breath, and feel it rattle in your chest as you try to put what you feel into words “It was you that I wanted. All of you, not just the physical part. I wanted to be able to hold you, and kiss you tenderly and hold your hand and take you on dates. I wanted…I wanted to be able to tell you that I love you.” You fight against the tears welling up in your eyes. There’s going to be time to cry later. There’s going to be time to recriminate and overanalyze where everything went wrong. You just need to cut your losses before Larissa throws something worse than a glass at you.

Not that it would hurt more than your broken heart.

“So yes, I’ll go. But I won’t be able to find what I want in the world outside. Because it was yours to give.”

You don’t look at her after that. You don’t want her to see the first tears finally overcoming the barrier of your eyelashes and come barreling down your cheeks. You have been pitiful enough. Needy enough. You turn towards the door, finally. The few steps that separate you from the wooden panel feel like miles upon miles but you force your body to take those steps, rigidly, almost mechanically.

The brass handle is cold under your touch.

“Wait.”

You cannot interpret what the intonation of Larissa’s voice means. It’s not the angry snarl of before that’s for sure, but apart from that? Could be anything and everything at the same time.

You stop, but you don’t turn, choosing to stare at the patterns formed by the knots in the wood in front of your nose. They are all wobbly because of the tears that keep silently pouring out of your eyes. You listen to the clacking sound of her heels on the wooden floor with the scared resignation of people on a death sentence.

You don’t know what you expected –  but her arms coming to wrap around you from behind is definitely not it.

You jump, as if electrocuted, your brain and your heart scrambling to make sense out of this, while your body is torn between tensing up in fear and allow itself to relax in her embrace.

And what an embrace it is.

In all these months, Larissa has never hugged you, and you only now realize how much you’ve been missing out. Her bigger, soft body presses against your back, and you are completely cocooned in the warmth emanating from her arms. Her forehead comes to rest in the crook of your neck, in a show of weakness that she had never allowed herself to show before.

“I want you, too. All of you.”

Liked it? You can find all of my other works tagged in my fanfiction masterlist! or on my AO3 profile, DragonMist.

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmistfanfiction #larissa weems x reader #larissa/reader #larissa weems/reader #larissa weems/you #larissa weems x you #larissa weems angst #angst fairy #gwendoline christie characters #gwendoline christie character fanfiction #gwendoline christie fanfiction #wednesday (netflix) fanfiction #wednesday fandom #principal weems fanfiction #principal weems #crossposted on ao3

[dianneking]

Larissa's Gloomy Summer - Chapter 1

Hiiii! I am finally back with a fic, and with a longfic, too! This has been in the works for more than a year, I think the idea first came to me when I wrote First Evening Back and I did promise I would come back to write more in depth about my favorite trio...and here we are!

Cover pic by the amazing @scream-queenlover

Larissa's Gloomy Summer

(link to AO3 in title)

Summary: After the fire, the faculty quarters in Nevermore are not safe to live in. As the students go back to their homes, the principal gets offered a room in a certain gloomy mansion. Out of other viable options, she agrees. After all, it’s only until the school gets patched back up together. What could possibly go wrong?

A slightly AU, alternative ending fic filled with wacky domestic fluff, trauma processing, classical music references, and, of course, lots of feelings and angst. Endgame Gomez/Morticia/Larissa because polyamory is the solution to every love triangle.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, @yourlocaldisneyvillain

You can read the fic over on AO3, but here's a little snippet to get you started:

“Absolutely not. I cannot accept, Mrs. Addams.” “But Larissa, you’ve said it yourself: the faculty quarters are not up to living standards after the fire.”

“I can still move into one of the temporary accommodations for the workers.” “Ridìculo! The principal, living in a tent!" Gomez, from his usual place next to his wife, butted into the conversation.  Larissa could feel the start of a tension headache coming on. She had hoped the Addamses had only come to Nevermore to pick up their daughter – clearly she’d been too naive. How did this become a debate over Larissa's living situation? “I agree, mon coeur, that is preposterous. We have plenty of space in our gloomy abode, and you’d be able to organize all the reconstruction works, as well as face all of the press backlash better if you didn’t have to worry about room and board.” Ugh, the backlash. Larissa didn’t even want to begin thinking about that. She could already imagine the scene: the phone ringing, emails flooding her inbox, journalist vultures swarming in front of the school’s gates… and her alone to face it all, after she quite literally almost died. She shivered at the memory of her close encounter with death, but having neither the time nor the energy to unpack all of that anytime soon, she shoved it in the back of her mind and concentrated on the small practical things she could feasibly tackle right now… …like getting out of this situation.

read more on AO3

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #gwendoline christie fanfiction #gwendoline christie #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa/morticia/gomez #larissa weems x morticia addams x gomez addams #larissa x morticia x gomez #polyamory fanfictions #feelings #poly fics #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix

[dianneking]

Happy Birthday, Blondie - Larissa/Melissa

Hello hello! For the first week of Back on The Writing Horse (you can find the original post and masterlist here) I am using prompt 2553 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

"Are you going to just spend the day alone?"

"That's what I do most days. It doesn't make a difference to me."

Thank you to @scream-queenlover for picking that prompt out for me and making this lovely cover art to go with the fic, as well as the closing one.

Fandom: Wednesday (2022) and Abott Elementary Characters: Larissa Weems / Melissa Schemmenti Tags: Friendly banter, Dare I say it's fluff? (it's fluff), Food, Mentions of skipping meals. Words: 1497

Happy Birthday, Blondie (link to AO3)

…Kind regards

Larissa Weems, principal of Nevermore Academy.

Larissa sighed in relief after clicking the send button on the latest email. Today had been quite the whirlwind of phone calls, emails and meetings, and it was still only lunchtime, who knew what the afternoon would entail. She closed her eyes, massaging her temples to try and stave off the tension headache she was starting to feel building up. She loved her job, and she loved Nevermore, but there was just something about this sort of days that really took a lot out of her.

The door to her study chose that moment to slam open, noisily hitting the cabinet at the end of its run. “Well, if it isn’t our principal caught dozing off at work!”

There was only one person in Nevermore who had the guts to barge into Larissa’s office unannounced and insult her work ethic at the same time. Larissa refused to give her the satisfaction of opening her eyes.

“What is it, Melissa?”

“Oi! At least look at me when you sigh my name. That’s a privilege not many people have, if you usurp it, I’ll have you move back to using Miss Schemmenti.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.” Larissa deadpanned. But she did crack open her eyes. The fiery head of her coworker was almost too bright in the sunlight that streamed in from the tall windows of her office.

“For sure not today of all days!” The smug grin on Melissa’s face told Larissa that the redhead knew she had won this round. Damn it.

“And what’s so special about today?” Asked Larissa petulantly.

“Are ya kidding me, Blondie?” Melissa looked at her as if she expected some sort of trick from her. Or a smart remark. That was their thing after all. A constant banter, prodding at each other trying to find the right button to push to make the other concede a point in their match of wits.

Larissa liked that. She had been too used to people in awe of her, or too scared of her power (both the political one and the actual shapeshifting) to pose much of a challenge for her. When Melissa joined Nevermore, Larissa had at first balked at what she had perceived as blatant disrespect from the latest addition to staff. But after a while a sort of understanding had formed between the two women, a sort of mutual recognition of kindred spirits (aided by a couple of heart-to-hearts brought along by copious amounts of wine, but they didn’t talk about those too much).

Melissa must have read that she was still missing the point, because she lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if to ask the heavens to grant her patience, and strode forward to place a cafeteria tray on Larissa’s desk. Larissa blinked at the plates: on one, a heaping portion of lasagna that looked way too good to be standard Nevermore fare, and on the second, bigger plate, a whole chocolate cake, complete with a dripping layer of decadent ganache and a wonky writing that recited: Are you a natural blonde or did you dye for attention?

Larissa tried to avoid drooling at the sight, while her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had skipped breakfast, again, this morning.

“Happy birthday, Blondie.”

Oh. Was it today? Larissa could’ve sworn today was still Thursday and her birthday wasn’t until…

…her eyes fell on the stylish calendar perched on the side of her desk.

Friday, February 16th.

Whoops.

“You can’t be serious. You had to check the calendar to be sure it was your birthday?”

“No!” Larissa lied quickly. “I just hmm…I wanted to check something, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure, whatever makes you sleep at night. Eat up, you don’t want my lasagna to get cold.”

Larissa picked up the fork. That was Melissa’s cooking. That’s why it looked – and smelled! – so absolutely divine.

“Thank you by the way, you didn’t have to.”

“Oh please. We both know that you skip more lunches than the ones you actually eat. At least on your birthday you should enjoy some good cooking.”

Larissa dipped her fork into the lasagna, inclining it sideways to slice a bite off of it and scooping it up to bring it to her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss as she chewed. It was an explosion of flavors and textures, perfectly balanced and delicious in every aspect. The fullness of the meat, the tangy and yet sweet tomato sauce, the sheets of pasta cooked to perfection, all enveloped by the smooth embrace of the bechamel sauce…it wasn’t just a lasagna, it was a masterpiece.

“Wow.” Was the only word that she could form before she dove back in.

She heard Melissa’s throaty chuckle, and knew without raising her eyes that there was another self-satisfied smile adorning her lips. Well, Larissa could allow her this one. The lasagna was really something else.

They sat in silence for some time while Larissa ate, Melissa having slouched in one of the armchairs in front of Larissa’s desk, as perfectly at ease as if she was in her own living room, before the redhead spoke conversationally.

“You know, I am glad I dropped by at lunch break, so I managed to remind you in time to get ready for whatever you have planned tonight. Not attending your own birthday party would be kinda lame.”

Larissa took her time swallowing the bite before she replied.

“Oh, that’s kind of you, but I don’t have anything planned for tonight. Just a quiet evening in, you know?” Actually, the more this conversation went on, the more Larissa was looking forward to curling up on her couch with a bottle of wine and some good music. Maybe read a bit, too? She almost didn’t remember the plot to the novel she was reading, so long it had been since she last had time to open it. Was that lame? She had just turned 46, she was allowed to wallow a bit and not go out and celebrate if she didn’t feel like it. Right?

“Oh come on. You’re not gonna spend your birthday evening here in your office, are you?”

“Why not? It’s a very nice study, I spent years decorating it just like I want to.”

“Yeah of course. I mean what’s a better birthday companion than a stuffed raven, after all? But seriously, Larissa,” Melissa’s tone turned serious, and the fact that she used her first name instead of a ridiculous nickname signaled that this was not a question Larissa could brush off flippantly, “are you really going to just spend the day alone?"

"That's what I do most days. It doesn't make a difference to me." Larissa shrugged, cleaning the last bit of lasagna sauce off the plate with the side of her fork. She had never been a huge fan of birthdays anyway.

“Absolutely not! I will not allow that.”

“I…beg your pardon?”

“You may beg all you want but you won’t get out of this. Be all ready and dolled up at six this evening. I might not have as many resources here in Vermont but the ex-husband of my second cousin owns the most disreputable dive bar in Williston. We’re going.”

“Melissa, there’s no need to…”

“No no. You misunderstand. This was not a question. You’ll be coming with me to party on your birthday night whether you like it or not, Miss Weems. And you’ll have the time of your life doing so.”

Larissa met her eyes, her bright green eyes looking up at Larissa as if challenging her to disagree, and all it did was make a lovely warmth spread in the taller woman’s chest. She shook her head, an exasperated smile climbing to her lips. 

“Alright, alright, you stubborn woman. You win. We’ll go celebrate my old age at your shady bar. But you’re offering the first round.”

“Ha! As if I’d let the birthday lady pay for her own drinks! I’ll have you know that my nonna raised me properly!”

They made eye contact across the desk, blue meeting green with an intensity that was new and warm and exciting. Larissa tried to convey in that gaze how much Melissa’s actions meant to her. Not just the cake and the birthday wishes. Hell, not even the invite to go out together. It was the fact that Melissa was there for Larissa in a way nobody had been in a very long time.

“Thank you, Melissa.” She said, frustrated at herself for being unable to say more, and yet charging those two simple words with all those untold things.

She was able to see the blush crawling up the other woman’s cheeks at her gratitude, and couldn’t help but think how adorable it made Melissa look. Clearly embarrassed, the redhead ran a hand through her locks and spoke in a gruff voice.

“So are you just gonna stare or are you gonna try the cake?”

The End

For anyone wondering, this is loosely in the same universe as my other Larissa/Melissa fic, New Teacher In Town. You can find more of my fics in my masterlist

Next fic in the challenge >

#larissa weems #melissa schemmenti #larissa weems x melissa schemmenti #larissa/melissa #larissa weems fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #abbott elementary #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie fanfiction #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter fanfiction #gwendoline christie #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #dianneking writes

[dianneking]

Hiii👋 not sure if youre taking requests but I just had to send one!! Im inlove your fics 🫠 can I request Larissa/reader based on she by dodie wt a happy ending please 👉👈🥺 its alright if youre not accepting requests, just wanna shoot my shot :-))

Hi! I wanted to thank you for this request, because it made me discover this song that I didn't know, and it filled me with all the angst necessary to make this fic happen, so I hope you enjoy!

Tags: Angst and Feelings, Angst with a happy ending, Break-up, age difference, Boss/Employee relationship, hidden relationship, pining.

AO3 link in title, if you prefer reading it there!

She - Larissa/Reader Angsty Songfic

 Am I allowed to look at her like that Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at

  The light streamed through the window panes, silhouetting Larissa in sharp contrast against it. Her hair refracted the sun and for a moment it looked as if she was wearing a halo. Like a painting of a saint, or a goddess of old. And you, you, as always were her worshipper, blessed by the honor of drinking in her figure like that.

You were standing at the center of the room, the book you held in your hand forgotten by your side, so mesmerized by her beauty that you forgot to notice the tight curve of her shoulders, the way her hands gripped spasmodically the windowsill. You would remember all these details of course, but only later.

Too late.

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep She tastes like apple juice and peach Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture And she means everything to me

  “I’m sorry, I don’t think this is going to work.”

She chose not to look at you as she said this, her eyes roaming the grounds of Nevermore from behind the glass of her window. Not even sparing you a glance as she broke up with you. You felt all the air leave your lungs at that, and yet all that could be heard in the suddenly silent room was a soft, pained Oh.

(Oh)

“I can’t give you what you want. You need to build a future for yourself and I…I need to be able to concentrate on Nevermore without any distractions.”

A distraction. That’s all you boiled down to. What for you had been the happiest period of your life was little more than a nuisance to her. You tried to swallow around the pain that this caused you. Was that what she had been thinking through all of your time together? The nights curled up in front of the fire, the stolen dates hiking through the woods around Nevermore, the way her fingers curled around yours when no one was watching? Nothing but a distraction?

  “I… should probably go, then.”

Larissa’s head whipped back towards you as soon as the words left your mouth, but she didn’t say anything for what felt like an infinite stretch of time. Still, you waited, standing in the middle of her office like a misbehaving student. You always waited for her. Of course you did, you loved her. Was that part of what made you such a bother to her?

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Was there anything you wanted me to say?”

I'd never tell No I'd never say a word And oh it aches But it feels oddly good to hurt.

“…I guess not.”

“I’ll leave you to your work then.”

You clamped down on the instinct to say I’m sorry because you weren’t. You were grateful for the time she had given you. And if she wasn’t going to apologize for breaking up with you, then neither were you going to apologize for making her feel like she had to choose between you and her work. You turned on your heel, walking away from the room, leaving your heart behind with someone you thought would cherish it forever. After all, that had been your mistake, not hers, right?

You had been the one to fall for her, madly, deeply. You had looked at her and seen everything you could ever wish for. You wanted to shout her joy from the tallest tower of Nevermore to the deepest ravine in the woods. You wanted to court her, to hold her hand, to dine with her in the candlelight.

She had been more reserved with her affection. You are my employee. It wouldn’t be proper for people to know about us. And then there was the age difference. It had always disturbed her more than it did you (although she hadn’t seemed so disturbed by it when your head was buried deep between her thighs). What is a young thing like you doing with an old woman like myself? You should go find someone to build a family with, she had told you multiple times. And every time you told her that Nevermore was all the family you needed, and that she was everything you wanted. Had that been annoying? It was the truth.

She smells like lemongrass and sleep She tastes like apple juice and peach Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture And she means everything to me

  Going back to your usual work routine was unsettling. You went through the motions of your life as if you were sleepwalking, trapped in a bad dream. Re-shelving books, sending out emails, helping both students and fellow staff-members in their researches. The weekly meetings of the book club. They all felt familiar, and yet you couldn’t find comfort in any of those activities, that you used to love so much. It was as if you had left with her all of your ability to love anything else as well. And yet you powered through, with the determination of a machine that was only there to get its work done. Because anything else was now lost to her. How could you walk through the woods and not think of her carefree smile? How can you enjoy a sip of apple juice without remembering how it tasted on her lips?

Oh, oh

The meetings were the most difficult part of all. The first ones were staff meetings, and you somehow managed to get through those by sitting in the furthermost corner from her, letting your eyes roam all over her figure whenever she wasn’t looking in your direction. She looked perfect, as always. She was poised and attentive to her colleagues, ready to discuss the decisions that involved them and the school, always taking constructive criticism in stride, diplomatically mediating between arguing teachers with the ease of a natural leader.

Oh, oh

Had it been slipping when the two of you were together? Were the secret smiles that danced in her eyes when they met yours a sign of distraction, a weakness that would have been exploited in the long run?

She didn’t look any different in how she ran the school now.

The few meetings the two of you had to have together were painful. You stuttered through your reports, and forget to ask half of the things you needed to. After a while she just stopped inviting you for in-person meetings and asked you to submit the reports per email.

You retreated even more than usual into your reign, the library, and watched the seasons change from behind its stained glass windows.

And I'll be okay Admiring from afar Cause even when she's next to me We could not be more far apart

  “Happy birthday.”

She looked awkward, looming in the darkened library door without entering, her gaze suddenly shy, and that felt wrong. She’d never been shy. Not even when you were first together, she had always been the one to initiate contact. She had held your hand first, she had kissed you first. She had been the one to ask if you wanted to move your relationship further.

And she had been the one to put an end to it.

And now she was here, on the evening of your birthday, invading the one space that was safely yours, holding a small tray with a slice of peach cobbler from the Weathervane in her hand, as an offering. Your favorite. The fact that she remembered hurt you somewhat more. So whatever you had had not been completely erased from her memory. Did she remember all the other things, too? The things you whispered to her when she held you in the darkness if her room? Did she, and she managed to go on with her life as if nothing major had changed? As if it had been nothing more than a parenthesis in a novel. By then, you were used to the pain, and you let it wrap around you, like a dear friend who was becoming more familiar to you than her voice.

Cause she tastes like birthday cake, and storytime, and fall But to her I taste of nothing at all

  “Thanks.”

“Aren’t you going to celebrate?”

The small talk was painfully stilted, and you wondered why she was so adamant in pursuing it.

“Not much to celebrate, I’d rather stay here with my book.”

“We don’t see much of you outside of the library anymore.”

“I wonder why that is.”

A whiff of her perfume reached your nostrils and you almost keeled under the onslaught of memories. There had been a time when the faint undertones of lemongrass had clung to your clothes, so much so that you had enjoyed the illusion of bringing a piece of her with you all through the day. An illusion, like everything else.

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep She tastes like apple juice and peach You would find her in a polaroid picture

“Why are you here, principal Weems?”

She seemed to recoil from her title, and seeing that didn’t give you any of the vengeful satisfaction you had hoped for. You didn’t like seeing her in pain. You never wanted to be the cause of her pain.

You knew all too well how it felt to be hurt by the one you love.

Except she didn’t love you.

You were starting to think she never did. It had probably been lust, the sense of adventure, the thrill of the forbidden. A younger body to press herself into. Maybe some sort of affection, too. But not love. You had made peace with that.

  “I miss you.”

And she means everything to me

  “I…beg your pardon?”

“I know I don’t have any right to say so. Not after I…I ended things between us. But I do. I miss you. I miss our time together, I miss having you reading on my couch as I wrap up the last emails in the evening. I miss asking for your opinion, I miss raising my eyes from my laptop and finding yours on me, since I don’t know how long. I’m sorry.”

Yes she means everything to me

“I’m not. Sorry, that is.”

You saw her close her eyes, resignation and sadness warring on her beautiful, kind face. She’d always been kind, even when she had hurt you. That’s why it was so important for her to understand.

“You chose Nevermore. I get it. It should have never been a choice you should have had to make, but I am grateful for the affection you have showed me in the time we were together. It made me feel alive in a way I never did. I understand it wasn’t the same for you and really, it is okay. It was probably foolish of me, but I did give you my all, and I don’t blame you for not knowing what to do with it. It was my choice, and I would do it again. I still love you but it’s alright. I made peace with it.”

She means everything to me.

“You still…love me?”

You nodded, unable to speak anymore. She looked soft, and her gaze didn’t hold the pity you were afraid of seeing, not the annoyance you dreaded. In her eyes you could only read an overwhelming wonder, as she looked at you as if you had just performed a miracle in front of her. “But don’t you want someone else? Someone younger, freer, more like yourself? Someone that hasn’t hurt you?”

“I don’t want anyone else. You mean everything to me. Whether or not you like me back, apparently. Whether or not I am a distraction.”

“Darling I…” the words caught up in her throat as she cupped your cheek with her hand. You had almost forgotten her touch, too. And at the same time, it was as if she’d never left.

  “I love you too. The gods help me, I love you more than Nevermore.”

-

liked it? you can find more of my writings linked on my fanfiction masterlist

#larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems angst #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems/reader #larissa x reader #larissa/reader fanfiction #dianneking fanfiction #dianneking writes #anon request #fanfiction request #angst fairy #dragonmist fanfiction #crossposted on ao3

[dianneking]

10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes - Day 9 (Brienne of Tarth)

We've reached the second-to-last day of our 10 days of goodbyes, and these last two are among my favorites, I must admit. I hope you like today's upload as much as I liked writing it.

Summary: A love story between a lady and her guard, especially if that guard is another woman, is filled with obstacles and pain. Some are easier to get past, to elegantly steer clear of, but what will happen when the difficulties grow insurmountable?

TW: Drabble, Angst, Goodbyes, Break Up, Arranged Marriages, Dialogue-Only, Hurt No Comfort - Wordcount: 100 w - AO3 link in title below

Day 9: Brienne of Tarth - Look at Me

“The horse is ready, milady.”

“Brienne, I…”

“Your fiancé will be waiting.”

“I swear I didn’t know…”

“I am merely here to escort you to him. Milady.”

“Brienne, please.”

“I shall be waiting for you by the gates.”

“WON'T YOU JUST LOOK AT ME IN THE EYES!”

“…”

“I didn’t know! It was my father, he…”

“It is of no consequence milady. It was my mistake. I should have known my place.”

“Your place? Your place is by my side!”

“As your guard. Nothing more.”

“Brienne, I love you!”

“It is not me you are going to marry in ten days.”

Liked it? Here's the link to the previous one, as well as to the next one! And to the 10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes masterpost! And to my own masterlist of all my fanfictions!

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #brienne of tarth fanfiction #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne of tarth x you #brienne x reader #brienne fanfiction #gwendoline christie fanfiction #gwendoline christie fandom #angst fairy #10 days of gwen goodbyes

[dianneking]

The Set-Up - Miranda/Reader (Top of the Lake: China Girl)

Crossposted on AO3 - if you prefer to read it there, follow this link!

Summary: Reader is crushing hard on Miranda, and yet somehow ends up on a date with Robin organized by none other than Miranda herself. Light angst, mostly Miranda being a hot mess tbh.

Tags: Mutual pining, jealousy, fake relationship, spying on people, Miranda being a clueless hot mess (as per canon), lil’ bit of angst, matchmaker!Robin, height difference, smoking, present tense, second person pov, ungendered reader.  Words: 3767

The Set-Up

You watch as Miranda enthusiastically waves goodbye at Detective Griffin before coming to lean against the wall by your side. Wordlessly you offer her a cigarette out of your pack, and she accepts with a muttered Thank you, sticking it immediately between her lips and lighting it up. Maybe it’s because you are somewhat more tired, maybe it’s because today she looks particularly happy and it tugs at something deep within you, but today’s the day where you throw caution to the wind and ask her what you have been ruminating on for quite some time.

"So, what's the deal with you and Griffin, huh?"

"We're on another case together. It's a good one."

"Only that?"

"What else?"

"Come on, Hilmarson, are you really going to make me ask?"

"I... I don't understand what you mean."

"You two seem pretty close, that is all."

"We sorted out our differences."

"Isn't that just great?"

"What's wrong with you today? You are being more waspish than usual. Didn’t take enough smoke breaks?"

"Don’t try to change the subject. Are congratulations in order? Are you two an item now?"

"What? No!"

"...if you say so."

"We really aren't! She's like my sister or something. Is that what was pissing you off?"

"Of course not! Why would I care if you and Griffin were hitting it off?"

"Oh my god, it is. You are jealous."

"No I'm not"

"You so are!"

"Am not"

"Are too!"

"Piss off!"

You shove her playfully, but doing so makes you painfully aware of your height difference, and you feel suddenly very small and nervous. If your crush for Miranda is so evident that even herself can call you out on it, you are worse off than you thought you were.

You try to sneak a glance up at her, and you see her beautiful face corrugated in a frown, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Has she already figured out everything? Maybe you should consider making a tactical retreat before you dig yourself too deep into a hole. But at the same time, you are not willing to give up any time the two of you spend together.

Damn. She's so out of your league it's not even funny, you think, watching how the warm glow of the afternoon sun shines through her blonde eyelashes. You should probably have been more careful in letting your feelings known, you think as the silence stretches on uncomfortably. Now there's going to be that embarrassed little dance of her trying to let you down and you telling her that it's okay (it's not), you understand (you do), and that you hope you two can still be friends (you really, really do). You are not ready to give up your smoke breaks spent together, all the laughter, the jokes, the heart to heart talks. Miranda is the brightest part of your day, and you'll be damned if you'll do anything to hurt your friendship.

 "Hey I... I think you might have a chance, you know?"

"What?" You barely manage to choke out. Is she…

"Yeah, Robin is single you know. And you are witty and smart like her, you two would get on like a house on fire."

Oh no.

The implications of that sentence hit you like a cold shower. Is she really that clueless or is it some sort of joke? She's not the person to purposefully try to hurt you by mocking your crush, you know her well enough for that. You know she means well, and yet your heart sinks as surely as a rock in cold water. She's totally misunderstood, but that in itself is an answer.

"Miranda, that's not..."

"You know what? I can set you two up for a date!" She whips her phone out before you can try to get in a word, her tongue peeking out of her lips in a show of concentration as she types away. You try your best not to stare at her mouth as she does so, but you are entranced. So much so that you miss your only occasion to stop her.

"There you go!" she announces with a satisfied smile as the phone pings with Griffin's answer "She says she's up for grabbing lunch with you at Tony's tomorrow if you pay for it."

You try to swallow your disappointment, but it stays as a bitter knot in your throat. She might not be dating her detective partner, but she for sure isn't interested in you, if she's so quick to try set you up with her. She looks down at you, with so much excitement shining on her face that for a moment you get lost in those sparkling blue eyes. She's so gorgeous, and sunny, and kind. You really cannot be blamed for falling for her. It's just your usual rotten luck that she only sees you as a friend. So much so as to play matchmaker for you.

And you are so desperately in love with her that you cannot bring yourself to burst her bubble, to be the reason that her infectious smile drops from her lips, and so you don’t say anything. You don’t tell her that when the two of them storm through the station on their way to another case, or when they lean together, their heads close as they look at the computer screen together, it is not Griffin that you can’t take your eyes off from.

"So, what do you say?"

"Uhm…sure, I guess…"

“But of course, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it? You go get your girl!”

You shrug, trying to squash down the hurt that the word friend carries. You might as well go to this lunch with Griffin, hopefully you might be able to pull out of her whether Miranda is seeing someone else. Not that that would change much, would it? You should start trying to resign yourself to the fact that you really have no chance with her.

Also, Miranda looks positively giddy with excitement at having set the two of you up. Not when she has so resolutely stated that she only thinks of you as a friend. You are not going to make a fool of yourself confessing feelings that won’t be welcome and would only make your interactions awkward. Grabbing a bite with Griffin is for sure the lesser embarrassment of the two. Or at least the least damaging for your friendship. Because even if you can't have Miranda as your girlfriend, you are going to fight tooth and nail not to lose her as a friend.

 You only hope that Griffin won't be an arse about it.

“Why are we even here? Didn't you have a huge crush on Miranda?”

Obviously, it had been too much to ask for.

“...”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So why let her set you up with me?”

“If you knew that already, why did you agree to this date?”

“I wanted some free lunch.”

“Oh wow. Way to make someone feel appreciated, Griffin.”

“And I was curious.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I wanted to see what she sees in you.”

“Nothing much, probably, if she tried to peddle me to you at the first chance she got.”

You try to keep the bitterness out of your tone, but you still bite viciously into your sourdough sandwich, and you can hear Griffin scoff.

“Oh please, it's obvious that she's pining for you just as much as you are for her.” You can feel yourself burning with embarrassment. Still better than the alternative, you remind yourself. It's just a lunch.

“I might even believe you if she hadn’t just put me firmly in the friendzone, so please, Griffin, can you drop this and just enjoy your free food?"

 Miranda tries not to feel guilty as she peeks beyond the wall corner to watch her two colleagues through the window of the café. She just wants to see how the date goes, that's all. Since she's the one who made it possible and all of that, she feels somewhat responsible for it. Like a fairy godmother for your budding relationship. Her friend and her work partner hitting it off…that has to be a good match, right?

Everybody agrees that Robin is the absolute best detective in the station. And you...well, you deserve nothing but the best. And if you two work it out, she won't have to share her free time between the two of you, right? The three of you will be able to hang out together all the time, and all will be just grand. One big happy family.

She can see the two of you in conversation, and cannot help the nervous tapping of her fingers on the wall she's hiding behind. She can see you shrug, an embarrassed grimace on your face. She can see how red your ears have turned - she can't get over how cute you are when you blush. For all of your tough talk, she thinks affectionately, you really are just a big softie. Have you already told Robin of your crush for her?

What will her reaction be?

Maybe Robin will reject you, and of course Miranda will be there to help you through your heartbreak, to comfort you as you had done for her when her affair – it’s a relationship, babe – with Adrian had crumbled like a sandcastle built too close to the ocean. Because that’s what friends do for each other, right? And Miranda is very happy to be your friend.

She absolutely is.

Really.

It's just that…

It's just that sometimes she allows her mind to run free, and she finds herself wondering how it would feel for once to hold your hand as you lean against the wall outside the station side by side, how your hair would feel if she buried her hands in it, how your lips would taste if she were to… No. She really shouldn’t. You're her friend, and she's pretty sure normal people don’t think about kissing their friend.

Unless they have romantic feelings for their friend. And she surely doesn't. Does she?

…

Fuck.

She totally has romantic feelings for you.

How hasn't she noticed? How long has she been feeling this way towards you and mistaking it for friendship? Suddenly she feels like bashing her head against the rough brick wall. How could she have been so dumb? She has even helped to set you up with Robin! Wow, good job, Hilmarson. Great. Couldn't she have realised it like two days ago? Even for her standards - she's the first to admit that she has messed up multiple times in her life - that's one major cock-up.

 “See? She's totally into you as well, she's even spying on our date.”

“That might just be because she is curious. If she wanted me, why would she try to set me up with you? Come on, Griffin, you must be smarter than this. Aren't you supposed to be the best detective in Australia or something?”

“Ha-ha, such a flatterer. Look, I know what I’m seeing. And lucky for you, I’ve got an idea.”

“Lord help us all.”

“What if I pretended to go along with it?”

“Griffin, I am flattered, but I thought we had already been over how I'm not interested in you.”

“That's why I said pretended, genius. She’ll see us together, get jealous and realize her feelings for you.”

“She won't. You might be a decent detective, but you suck at relationship advice. Oi! Remove your hand from mine, this is ridiculous.”

 She shouldn't still be here, Miranda thinks, and yet she can't seem to be able to rip her eyes away from the way Robin has grasped your hand above the coffee table, her face opening in a lopsided smile.

This isn't fun anymore. Not since she's realised how badly she has fucked up in helping you two out. Miranda swallows, her eyes never leaving Robin as she slides out of her side of the booth and moves to sit beside you. She's never seen that sort of playful grin on Robin's face, unless she was totally hammered, and to see it when she's sober, and on a date with you of all people… Robin wants you too, doesn't she?

Well, of course she does. I mean, look at you, you are lively, smart, funny, attractive, and Robin might be many things, but she for sure isn’t blind or stupid. She has to know how much of a catch you are.

Miranda can only watch helplessly as Robin - the same Robin who refuses all sort of affectionate contact, struggling to even hug her own daughter - is leaning into you, nuzzling your neck, and whispering something in your ear. You jolt up as if electrocuted, and turn towards her, shock clear on your face. What has she said to you? Miranda feels like she's going insane, stuck on the outside looking in.

And then Robin chooses that moment to plant a kiss square on your lips.

Miranda turns tail and flees.

 “What the fuck, Griffin?”

“It's gonna work, trust me. I know Miranda.”

  Miranda leans against the wall next to the station, in what over the years she has come to think of as your spot. If she closes her eyes, she can almost fool herself into thinking you’re by her side, as you always are, cigarette dangling from your lips, always ready with a sarcastic quip, or a funny retort. Except you're not there. You're still on your stupid happy date, that she had pushed you into, like the moron she is.

She's been chainsmoking since she came back from spying on you, and the longer it takes for you to come back, the more harshly she pulls in the smoke between her teeth, trying to lessen her stress. Trying not to picture what you and Robin could be doing that's taking the both of you so damn long.

She tries to ignore the painful constriction of her heart at what her traitorous mind conjures up. The mere thought of Robin's small hands safely ensconced in your bigger ones, of her mouth exploring yours as Miranda had been dreaming of doing even before she recognized her feelings for you, of the two of you hugging or worse, makes her want to scream at the top of her lungs and hit something.

But she can't.

You're her friend, she should want you to be happy, shouldn't she? And if that means stepping aside and supporting you in your relationship with Robin, of course she'll do just that. Because Robin is the one you're interested in and there's nobody on earth Miranda can think is more different from her than Detective Griffin. Robin simply is everything Miranda has never been: petite, professional, smart, careful and precise. It's no wonder you like her and not big, clumsy, helpless Miranda.

Miranda, who's a terrible friend and cannot even support you wholeheartedly in your new budding relationship.

Miranda shakes her head, dropping the butt of her cigarette to the ground and moodily stepping on it. She should be happy for you, should be grateful to be allowed to be your friend, it's not like she has  a whole lot of those anyways. The sooner she starts to accept the fact that there's no hope for anything more between you two, the better it'll be for her poor heart.

She just didn't expect it to hurt so much.

But what's taking you so long? Is that how it's going to be from now on? You and Robin, so wrapped in each other that you forget about Miranda, leaving her alone once again, cast aside, begging for scraps of affection from her friends?

She can feel the tears filling her eyes at the mere thought.

 "You're back! How…how did it go?"

Miranda’s smile is too big, her eyes too watery for it to be sincere. For the first time you allow yourself to hope against all hopes that maybe, maybe Robin has a point.

But maybe you are just seeing what you want to see.

“Are you alright, Miranda?" Her laugh is high, nervous and ends up in a sort of hiccup as she clumsily claps you on the shoulder, rocking you with the strength of the impact.

"Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be, there’s a new, blooming romance in the station! And between my best friend and my partner, to boot! Isn't that just grand? Are you gonna tell all the others about it, or should I tell them and save you the pain?”

Her happy-go-lucky voice is so fake it twists your heart and almost makes you miss what she has said.

“Nonono, there will be no telling anything to the others!”

The last thing you need is for the whole fucking station to think you and Griffin are an item. You wouldn’t hear the end of it. It’s already bad that Miranda thinks that. And hopefully you can somehow clear that up.

“Is that something Robin asked you? Does she want to keep you as her dirty little secret? You shouldn’t settle for that! You deserve more!” She gesticulates wildly at this, her hands cutting the air with agitated gestures, as she defends your honor against imaginary slights.

“That’s not it, Miranda. It’s just-“ But she cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“You shouldn't hide your feelings! You two are totally made for each other. Go be unapologetically together!”

"Why are you so adamant in pushing us together?" You finally snap, irritatedly. She's not making any sort of sense. She's trying so hard to get the two of you together even if it's obvious that she's not happy in the least about it. And even though you are starting to think more and more that this might all be a huge misunderstanding, it cuts to hear the woman you love trying so hard to set you up with someone else. What if Robin wasn’t right? What if Miranda really only saw you as a friend and nothing more?

"What do you mean? Didn't the date go well? You sure looked like you were hitting it off pretty well, and you took your sweet time, too." She mutters the second part softly, as if it has come out of her mouth without her really wanting to, then promptly blushes a deep red.

You always found her adorable when she blushed.

"Miranda, I need to know it, why were you spying on us?"

"Oh god, you saw me? I… Uhm I…I just happened to drop by Tony's, I had totally forgotten that the two of you were there. So I uhm hid, because I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you. Hehe, that’s all."

"Is… Is it possible that you might like me?" You throw all caution to the wind because really, at this point you need a clear answer.

"No!" She answers too quickly "Of course not! You are my friend. I like you as a friend!" Hope stirs once again, but you don't dare to believe it quite yet. Not while she keeps denying everything.

"Miranda, you are many good things, but you are a terrible liar."

She suddenly rights herself from where she was leaning against the wall and makes as if to move towards the station.

"Well, I…I need to go. I just realized that my lunchbreak was over like five minutes ago and I-"

You stop her, a hand on her wrist, and a pleading tone to your voice.

"No, please. Stay. I…"

She stops, but she stays with her back to you. When she speaks, her voice wavers ever so slightly.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, I know what you want to say.”

“You…do? ‘Cause it seems to me that this is all a huge misunderstanding.”

“Of course. A misunderstanding. Sure, that’s one way to put it. Just another big clumsy mess, made by big clumsy Miranda. I guess we’re used to it by now, aren’t we?”

She turns now, and you are shocked to see tears streaking down her face.

“That’s not what-“

“It's OK,” she interrupts you once again, angrily wiping the wetness off her face as she looks at you with a solemn, sad look into those beautiful big blue eyes of hers, “I know that you like Robin, I would never do anything to ruin your chance with her. You really make a perfect couple, I am serious about it. I just need a little time to adjust.” Her voice is picking up speed, as if it's impossible to stop now that she's started, “I am so grateful to have you as a friend, it's not like I expected you to return my feelings. Hell, I didn't recognise them for what they are until I saw the two of you together. And I would never let something like that ruin our friendship. Everything can stay perfectly the same, even if you are with Robin and…and I know I am a terrible friend that has fallen for you after setting you up with your crush but I want you to be happy and please don't hate me."

You blink under the onslaught of words she's unleashed on you, and when she abruptly stops, all that can be heard in the small alley to the side of the station is her heavy breathing, as if she had just run a marathon. Her shoulders are shaking and you can't see her face, dipped as it is into her collarbone in shame.

Your heart breaks at seeing her like this, at the sheer thought that Miranda could believe even for one second that you hate her.

You stand right in front of her, cradling her red, downturned face in your hands, tilting it ever so slightly up from where it was staring at the pavement, so you can once again look directly into her beautiful blue eyes, now swimming with tears and swirling emotions.

She's such a mess, you think affectionately. But she's a lovely mess with the biggest of hearts, and you wouldn’t want her any other way.

"Miranda, I could never ever hate you. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I… I think I love you."

"As…as a friend?"

"No, dearest, no, not as a friend."

And you hope there's no mistaking your intentions now as you press your lips to hers in a kiss that the both of you have been daydreaming about for way too long to admit.

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[dianneking]

It’s not too late if we’re alive (Brienne/Reader)

A/N: It’s Day Two of May Trope Mayhem by @duckprintspress​ and I’ve never felt so inspired to write! Today’s prompt is War Setting so you get a WWII AU Brienne x Reader fic, because why not! (thanks to @weemssapphic​ for our historical AU talk, that made me buckle down and write). As always, link to AO3 in title below.

Disclaimer: I didn’t have the time to properly research this, so there might be historical inaccuracies on technical stuff like how war hospitals were organized etc. Disclaimer # 2: I seem physically unable to keep my fics under 1000w, blame the angst, not me.

Tags: War, WWII, Hospitals, Wounds  (not graphic), Talk of Death, Talk of Bombing, Smoking, Second-person Narrator, Angst, Breakups, Angst with a Happy Ending, No use of Y/N.

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Brienne of Tarth/Reader Wordcount: 1258w

It’s not too late if we’re alive

Any day that passed, you knew it could happen. You were at war after all. Day in and day out the battles raged, and humans fought against other humans, machines against other machines, metal ringing against metal, their screams loud in the smoke-filled air. 

They fell in troves. Some made it to you, others weren’t so lucky. And you knew that Brienne was there in the trenches, amongst her soldiers, leading them, the first woman to ever serve in the British Army, the first one to rise to the rank of officer.

Every time you woke up from your fitful slumber, every time a wounded soldier was brought in for treatment, you prayed not to recognize her on the stretcher, not to see her cornsilk hair matted with blood underneath the helmet. One day your prayers went unanswered.

“Chief Nurse! Hurry! It’s the lieutenant-general!”

After all this time, her figure was still so achingly familiar to you as the litter bearer brought her in, her long limbs limp on the stretcher, soot and blood marring the uniform she was so proud of.

Up until now you had managed to avoid her, only catching glimpses of her when she came to visit the wounded, but now here she was, bare inches away from you. She was still beautiful, even with the inevitable traces of time and war. It took all of your strength not to reach out and brush your fingers against the soft skin of her jaw. You shouldn’t.

After all, the last words you had exchanged had not been the friendly sort.

*

“Will you at least promise me you’ll come back?” you had asked. She had already donned her uniform, and the coarse wool scratched your palm as you put your hand on her elbow.

“You know I cannot promise you that.”

“But I love you.”

Her face had hardened, as it always did when you told her how you felt. You had told yourself that she was simply unused to being loved. But a dark voice within you was starting to ask whether it was because she was ashamed of you, or frustrated with your clinginess. Whatever the reason, she never said those words back.

“You shouldn’t say those things so lightly.”

“Just because you refuse to accept my feelings for you doesn’t mean that they are not real.”

“You are young, but you were never naïve. This was never something that could last.”

You had been young at the time, true. You had never experienced heartbreak before. Even the simple act of breathing sent searing pain through your chest. Your eyes had filled with tears, and your mouth with rage.

“Is that all it was to you? Just something to keep you entertained between wars?”

She had not dared to answer you. To this day, you still wondered why. Was it because it had been more for her as well and she didn’t want to lie to your face, or was it because she didn’t want to admit that she, Captain Brienne of Tarth, paradigm of righteousness, had used you for your affection just for as long as she had needed a warm body?

You had been young at the time, and first love is never easily forgotten. Even if unrequited.  

*

“Is God so unmerciful then?” The sudden sound of her voice in the silence of the officers tent almost made you drop the bandages you were carrying. You turned to her, wondering if she was growing delirious due to the high fevers she was running. But her eyes, wide and feverish though they were, were trained on you, with razor-sharp focus. “Have I not atoned for my past mistakes with my deeds? Why must He torture me with cruel visions?”

Oh.

She thought you were a fever dream, one sent to torture her. You pretended it didn’t hurt. It shouldn’t have, not as much as it did. Not even if she had been your first love.

Your only love, corrected a voice inside of you that sounded a lot like your younger self.

“Lieutenant-general, I am not a vision. I am merely the chief nurse. You should try to rest. You have been injured on the battlefield.”

“Is…is it truly you?”

“It is. But I am only here to treat your wounds, not to dig up the past.”

“How are you alive?”

“How is anyone alive these days? Luck, probably.”

“I thought you died in the Coventry bombing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I sent you letters, and you never answered. I came over last year, but nobody could tell me anything about you. Our house was nothing but a pile of rubble. I thought…”

“Oh, is it our house now? I don’t recall you showing any particular attachment to it when you left.” She was surprised at your vitriol, you could see it in the way her deep blue eyes widened, and in the uncharacteristically hesitation in her answer.

“Darling, I-“

You suddenly felt ashamed of how easily her mere presence could drag out all of your pain, making you feel like that day on your doorstep, watching her walk away, her military boots crushing your heart with each step.

“There are no darlings here. It’s Chief Nurse if you need to address me. But right now, I don’t have time for idle chatter.”

You turned away from her, leaving her behind as she did to you so much time ago.

*

She found you some days later, as you were trying to enjoy the luxury of a short smoke break hidden behind the hospital barracks. She was still limping, but her skin had lost most of its sickly paleness, and she looked even more like the Brienne you used to know. The Brienne you used to love.

“How did you end up becoming a nurse?”

“I was told to do something useful with my life since I refused to marry. I did.”

“You…refused to marry?”

“Lieutenant-general, I hardly think…”

“Brienne. It’s Brienne to you. It’s always been.” You committed the mistake of looking up into her eyes, and instantly felt the irresistible pull they had on you. As if she had never left. You averted your gaze angrily and took a deep drag from the cigarette in your hands, trying to center yourself once again.

“What is your purpose here, Brienne?”

“I thought I had lost you, and I thought I would never be able to tell you. Seeing you here, alive, accomplished, breathtakingly beautiful, it…it felt like a second chance I never deserved to have.”

“Tell me what?”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t regret walking away from you. I’m sorry.”

The unexpectedness of the apology took you by surprise and you turned to her, only to find her much closer than you expected. The words you were thinking of saying died in your throat as you drowned in the maelstrom of feelings within her eyes. She hesitatingly reached a hand over to cup your cheek, as if afraid you’ll suddenly disappear, and her voice was low and broken with a heartache you instantly recognized. It was twin to your own.

 “I love you. I always have. I’m sorry I’m only telling you now. I know it’s too late.”

Her eyes swam with tears, and her face was suddenly getting closer and closer. You reached with a hand behind her neck and pulled her even closer, whispering against her lips, as if it was a secret meant only for her and her alone.

“It’s not too late if we’re alive.”

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[dianneking]

I wish I knew (you wanted me)  Larissa / Reader angsty oneshot

Summary: Larissa announces her engagement. Reader can sense something is off.

Hi! Happy Sunday! It seems like it’s becoming a sort of tradition of mine to set you up with an angsty oneshot on the weekend, how fun (this is not a promise that this will keep happening, but it already happened two Sundays in a row, so…who knows?). Anyway, I hope you enjoy the gut-wrench that is today’s fic.  

You can read it on AO3 here

Tags: Mutual Pining, marriage of convenience, angst upon angst, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, guns and taser guns, violence, blood & injury,  hospitals, mentions of death, afterlife and hell, season 1 spoilers. Wordcount: 3906

You looked at her, surrounded by well-wishers, side by side with her newly-announced fiancé. By your side, Vlad leaned against the wall, his eyes on the tall frame of the principal as well. He was the one that broke the comfortable silence.

– She looks so happy. – No, she doesn't.

– What are you on about, look at her smiling away and showing off her ring. – It's a fake smile. Obviously. – What do you even mean? – How is it possible that you don't see it? Look at her eyes. When she's really smiling, her eyes crinkle up, and her nose scrunches up a little and you can almost feel the joy coming off of her. There's nothing of that sort now. She looks...hollow. – Are you sure you're not an empath? – Don't be a dick now, Vlad. You know perfectly well I am a no-show, the only normie in a family of outcasts. The only reason why they let me here at Nevermore is because of family traditions. And I managed to snag the history teaching position pretty soon after I finished uni, luckily, so I came back. – You might be a late bloomer. – Or I might actually be able to see what's plainly in front of my eyes. Whatever the reason she's doing it, it's not because it makes her happy. – Okay, maybe you are not an empath, maybe you are just obsessed with your boss. – I...am not! I look up to her, that's all. – Darling, we all look up to her, the woman is like six foot something. But when you do look at her, your eyes are basically heart shaped. Now that is plain for everyone to see. – Fat lot of good it does now, doesn't it? She’s going to get married soon anyway. It’s not like I’m going to confess to her on her wedding day. * You closed the door behind you, letting your eyes travel over her. – You look...beautiful, – you murmured, hating how your voice broke a little while saying it. She really did look glorious, her wedding gown hugging her frame, leaving her creamy shoulders bare, her collarbones decorated by a simple necklace. Her hair was coiffed in a similar updo to the one she usually wore, enriched by the lace veil cascading down her back from where it was pinned to the back of her head. Beautiful didn’t even start to describe Larissa Weems on her wedding day. And then she looked up at you from her sitting position and your breath caught in your throat at how her splendid blue eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Not the tears of nervous happiness one could expect of a bride about to get married: those were tears of heartbreak. Without thinking, you rushed by her side, kneeling beside her chair, your hand finding hers and curling around it. It was cold like a corpse's.

– You don't love him. It wasn't really a question, but she still shook her head, mutely.

– And I bet he doesn't love you either, does he? She shook her head again, pressing her lips together, as if to prevent herself from talking.

– Then why are you doing this? As the first tears broke the barrier of her lids and started rolling down her face, she looked away, unable or unwilling to answer. Resignation.

– Larissa, there's always other possibilities. You don't have to. – It's for the good of the school. – she whispered, brokenly. – But what about your happiness? Do you really want to be stuck in a loveless marriage of convenience? Something must have struck a nerve, because she bristled at this, hurt and anger and frustration mingling in her tone: – I'm doing this to protect my Nevermore family. And that includes you.

– Don't you dare tell me you are marrying him because of me. I'm sure there are other ways to solve this issue. Ways that don't condemn you to a life of regret. – Why do you even care? – I love you.

The words were out before you realized it, but even if you could, you wouldn't take them back. She needed to know. Her eyes snapped back to you, wide open, as she pressed her hand to her mouth. The tears kept streaming down her cheeks. In the silent room, you could hear the muffled sob that she was trying to hide.

– I cannot bear to watch you marry him seeing how unhappy it makes you. Her hand left her face, coming down to grip yours in a bruising hold. You could see her lips quivering as she struggled for words.

– I wish I had known...I couldn't dare to hope... – Hope for what? – My feelings to be returned.

Her voice was the faintest of whispers, but it struck you with the force of a thunderclap. You were still reeling from it when her lips were on yours, soft as you had always imagined them, but almost timid in their movements against your mouth. You kissed back, your tongue running against her mouth, tasting the saltiness of her tears before she allowed you entry, her hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in even more, her movements now almost desperate. As if she wanted to commit the sensation to memory.

You pulled away slightly, whispering against her lips, in a prayer: – Don't marry him. Let's go back to Nevermore, regroup there. We'll find another way. We can make it work.

Her hand fell away from your nape, and she straightened up, putting distance between the two of you. You could see the pain, raw on your face, and you knew what she was about to say before her lips moved.

– I... We can't, I’m sorry. I… Screams coming from the assembled people outside interrupted whatever else she had been about to say, but her answer had been clear already. She would choose unhappiness with someone else, even if she returned your feelings. You had lost your only chance. You could feel your heart breaking all over again, even harder now that you'd allowed yourself to hope for a handful of seconds, for the time of a kiss. You stood up, feeling unbalanced on your own two feet. The terrified screams weren't stopping, echoing the despair you were feeling.

Larissa went to the window, trying without much success to understand what was going on, leaving you with your pain. As she made to move towards the door, you stopped her with a hand on her arm.

– Wait here, I'll go check. Wouldn't want your future husband to see you before the ceremony, right? That would be bad luck. – You didn’t feel guilty at the bitterness in your tone, but it pained you to see her physically recoil hearing it, as if stung.

You opened the door, eyes scanning the garden where the wedding was supposed to take place. You had left it an idyllic set-up of white flowers and chatting guests with soothing live music coming from a string quartet in the far-out corner, and in the small lapse of time you had spent indoors, it had turned into chaos. The chairs had been thrown each and every way, there were people running and screaming, the decorations flung on the floor, or hanging sideways from their original places. Where the band once stood, dark, acrid smoke was rising, tainting the clear morning air. And in the middle of it all, a horribly familiar, bulbous shape, flinging its claws around.

– Well, it seems that young Mr. Galpin has heard of his father remarrying and he’s not happy about it.

– WHAT?

– You stay here, Larissa. Stay safe. I’ll go help out.

You had learned your lesson from last year’s near-disaster. That morning you had thought about leaving your trusted taser gun home (who brings one to a wedding?), but you had felt naked without its comforting weight in your pocket and had decided to hold onto it.

You made your way towards the beast, weaving your way through fleeing people, upturned chairs and fallen debris. The smoke stung your eyes, but you could still clearly see the groom-to-be trying to talk to the Hyde while still aiming his gun at the beast. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the Hyde was slowly getting closer to him, leaving a trace of destruction, forcing the sheriff to scramble back, behind the altar. Luckily this allowed you to arrive close enough to the both of them without the Hyde noticing you. Quickly, you took the safety away from your stun gun, and fired it to its muscular back, hoping it would spasm and lock up, incapacitating your enemy.

You weren’t so lucky.

It looked like the shock hadn’t affected the monster in the least, except for making it even angrier, and alerting it to your presence. It turned towards you, its horrifying face contorted into a growl, its arm tangling up in the thin metal wires that connected the darts to your gun. You held onto your weapon, delivering another shock: it seemed to at least cause the beast more pain than it did the first time, if the loud yelp that left its mouth was any indication. However, its flailing movements to get rid of the darts caused it to yank with inhuman strength on the cables, sending you careening through the small distance that separated you, and crashing against the monster’s chest, smacking your heads together.

It felt like hitting a brick wall. Pain bloomed in your forehead, and your vision swam, tunneling on the bulbous, horrible eyes in front of you. Everything felt like it was running in slow motion. For an interminable second, both you and the monster reeled from the hit, unable to make sense of what had just happened, and looking at each other in the eyes unblinkingly like a pair of lovestruck teenagers. Then the Hyde roared in your face, and as its fetid breath hit your face, you felt a pang of sorrow at the thought that its fangs would probably be the last thing you’d see in this life.

You blinked.

The gunshot rang in the suddenly silent garden. Was it silent? It felt silent, but you thought you could still hear some far away screaming. It almost felt like it was your name being called. How ridiculous. Why would anyone scream your name? You turned towards the sound, seeing Larissa, still clad in her wedding gown, a firearm clutched into her shaking hands.

Even then, she looked beautiful. How was that even possible?, you asked yourself as the Hyde collapsed on its shattered knee, taking you down with it. You fell on top of him as he slowly returned to his human form, unconscious due to the pain. The horribly disfigured face morphed back to the well-known one of young Tyler, who had prepared your coffee for years before trying to kill you and all of your students. Even seeing the change first-hand it was still difficult to think he and the beast were inhabiting the same body. You kept staring as the bulbous, grey skin turned back to its human, supple state, the muscles shrank, and the claws retracted back into his fingertips, pulling out from where they were plunged into your abdomen.

Oh.

You rolled on the side, looking at the puncture wounds in a sort of dream-like, detached way. The blood was only now welling up, soaking through your shirt, red blooming bright on the light cloth like a giant flower.

You heard your name again, this time as if coming from even further away. Hands were grabbing your shoulders, and you slowly looked up into Larissa’s beautiful eyes. Her lips were moving, but no sound was reaching your ears. How weird. Your lids were growing heavier, but you fought against it. You wanted to keep looking at her - she was so beautiful, even with tears once again streaming down her face. You were lucky that your feelings were returned, even if she was about to marry someone else. To have any place in the heart of such a woman was already a blessing.

You raised a hand to her cheek, to wipe away her tears, but each movement felt as if you were struggling against quicksand. You only managed to brush against her skin before your arm fell limply back to your side . She was now pressing both of her hands on your abdomen, your blood painting a stark contrast on the immaculate white of her wedding gown. It would take a lot of effort to take out the stain you thought. Was that the reason for the desperation on her face as she looked at you?

Even with that, her face is a much better last thing to see, you thought as you slipped into darkness.

*

Maybe it would have been better to stay dead. Or whatever you had been, you mused, as you unhappily focused your bleary eyes on the scene in front of you. Or perhaps you had died and for all of your not believing in it, you had ended up in hell itself. Probably kissing a soon-to-be-bride and trying to convince her to ditch her fiancé on the altar was some sort of sin. That would explain your own damnation.

You blinked, hoping the scene would change somehow, but it was still the same: you were lying on a bed, in an unfamiliar, too-white room. The sun was streaming in from the window to the side, illuminating a collection of flower vases on the rickety table in front of it. And near the foot of your bed, impossible not to see, a tall figure who couldn’t be anyone else but the last woman you had seen, the woman that still had your heart, whether you were actually dead or still in the realm of the living. Larissa.

Larissa, her shoulder shaking, her face hidden from view, wrapped as she was into the comforting hug of a grave-faced Sheriff Galpin. Her fiancé. Maybe her husband, now. Your heart hurt as if it was still alive, but that was probably your personal torment in hell: being forced to watch them for all of eternity. Unable to look away, unable to reach out. You had never cared for the salvation of your soul until now.

You wondered if you could close your eyes, and were surprised to find out that you could. As darkness enveloped you once again, you hoped never to see the light again.

But you did, and this time the scene had changed. Larissa was alone, sitting on a chair beside your bed. As if through a dream, you could feel the warmth of her hand on yours, and you could smell her perfume hanging in the air around you. You studied her, wondering what today’s torment would be. She was beautiful, as always, even if her face was tired, her eyes listless as they stared at your joined hands.

Maybe…maybe this wasn’t hell after all.

You tried hard to command your hand to slightly squeeze hers, to get her attention, to show both her and yourself that you were awake, that you were alive. It felt like you were trying to move a boulder with your thoughts alone. You tried again and again, straining against the block inside your head. As you were almost about to give up, you felt the tiniest twitch of your fingers, and you thought you felt a soft gasp coming from her lips, but your vision had already turned black once again.

*

Day after day, you would wake up, and always find Larissa by your side, be it night or day, typing away at her laptop, lost in thought, or asleep. Sometimes Sheriff Galpin would be there too, talking to her in hushed tones, or reading the paper in the other chair. You pretended to be asleep when he was there, trying to ignore the tightening of your chest at the two of them together.

You did spend a lot of time sleeping, anyways. Each small movement was a struggle that wiped you out. It took what felt like ages to be able to talk, and even then the first time you had barely managed to croak out a broken Hi and you had seen Larissa’s eyes fill with tears as she smiled at you. You had looked away, unwilling to see the pity you were sure to find there. You felt so useless.

*

– How long…was I out for?

Your voice still had a raspy, weird quality to it, but you were now able to have small conversations, that made you feel somewhat more human.

– It’s been five weeks as of yesterday. – You could see she was trying to act nonchalant about it, probably to avoid upsetting you.

– …Damn.  – You managed to choke out. Whatever you had expected, that was not it. Had it really been that long? Five weeks was a long time to be stuck in a hospital. In five weeks a lot could change, especially in a place such as Nevermore. And how much longer would it take for you to go back to your life? If that was even in the cards? Would you be able to talk long enough to teach? To go through a day without sleeping for most of it?

– Quite. – You counted the small upturn of Larissa’s mouth at your eloquent assessment of the situation as a victory. She looked like she hadn’t had a lot of reasons to smile in the last period. She looked gaunt, tired. Having to be here by your side on top of everything else was probably putting a strain on her.

– I’m sorry.

– What for?

– For all the trouble. Having your wedding ruined, and having to care for sick teacher on top of finding a substitute… I’m sorry to have piled more stress on you.  

– You must be joking. That was the least of my problems. When I saw you there, all covered in blood I thought… God, I thought… – she passed a hand on her face, as if afraid to finish her sentence. You took pity on her and spoke the words she didn’t want to.

– You thought I was dying.

– Yes. And I wouldn’t have been able to forgive me if you did. You…

– I was stupid. I was trying to help, and made… a bigger mess, as always. – You shrugged in a self-deprecating manner. Why on Earth you thought that a taser gun would work against a Hyde, one of the most dangerous outcast types known to humankind, was still a mystery. Such an idiot. And your idiocy almost costed you your life.

–  Don’t you dare to say that! –  She grabbed your hand, her eyes piercing yours with an intensity you had never seen in those beautiful blue gems. – If it hadn’t been for you, Donovan and possibly other people would probably be dead. What you did was heroic.

Of course she was grateful to you for saving the sheriff’s life. The man she had chosen even if she wasn’t in love with him. Was this something else that had changed in these five weeks? Had the dramatic experience brought the two closer together? Maybe they had developed those feelings that were missing from their relationship. Maybe having you out of the picture had given Larissa the peace of mind to move on.

Like you would have to do, eventually. No matter how painful it was, she would never be anything more than your boss and possibly a friend to you. Close, but always out of reach. You tried to change the subject, swallowing around the knot in your throat, and pretending that your difficulty with talking came from your accident and not from the gaping hole in your chest where your heart once was.

– Well, I guess…congratulations are in order, right?

– What do you mean?

– The wedding. I’m guessing you two… tied the knot as I was out of it. Hopefully it was… less eventful than the last time, eh, Mrs. Galpin?

It hurt. It hurt to call her that, it hurt to think of how she had clung to the sheriff’s smaller frame the first time you had woken up. It hurt just to think of them together, Jericho’s most recent couple, bound in a marriage of convenience.

– No, there…there was no marriage. We called it off.

– Oh. I see. I’ll try …not to die the next time then. Since you… waited for me to wake back up and all. – Your joke fell flat, as you imagined what a torture it would be to once again see Larissa in a wedding dress, to see her walk down the aisle, exchange her vows, and see her kiss her groom knowing how those lips had felt on yours in that one stolen kiss.

– There will be no next time. Donovan and I - we had a lot of time to talk through things. We decided this would make us both miserable. We, we broke the engagement.

– …

Try as you might, you couldn’t find anything to answer to that. You were fighting too hard to squash the sudden hope that had blossomed in your chest at that announcement. That didn’t mean anything, you tried to tell yourself. It didn’t have anything to do with you, or the kiss you had shared. She had probably just realized how dull living with Sheriff Galpin would be, or something like that.

– Aren’t you going to say anything? – Were you imagining it or had Larissa’s face just dropped slightly, were you imagining it or was there disappointment tinging her tone?

– I…I’m not sure what you want me…to say, Larissa.

She bit her lip, and lowered her eyes to where her hand was still holding yours over the hospital bedsheet. When she spoke, her voice was soft and so warm with feeling it almost took your breath away.

– When you were bleeding out, all I could think of was that I had just found the love of my life, and I had been so bloody stupid to let you go. Please, give me one chance, I prayed. I don’t even believe in a higher Being, but I was praying all the time you were unconscious. Once chance and I am going to do my best to cherish the fact that my feelings are returned. –

She snapped her eyes back to meet yours, and if her voice was full of feelings, it was nothing compared to what her eyes were showing you: – I love you. I have been for quite some time, and yet struggled with accepting it. But now I do, and I realized that no matter what my head was trying to do, my heart already belonged to you. And it is yours if…if you’d like it.

You squeezed her hand and held her gaze, trying to put into words how her words had made your heart whole again, how full and how happy your chest felt now. How hope and love were now vibrating in the air around you, composing a symphony that no human ear could ever comprehend.

In the end the only words you could squeeze out were: – I’d…love to.

But it seemed that she had understood all the other words you hadn’t said, because she squeezed your hand as well, leaning towards you until your lips met into a kiss full of promises and reciprocal love.

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[dianneking]

10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes - Day 7 (Miranda)

I huh. I really like this and I also am very sorry because I feel like it's particularly sad. Miranda from Top of the Lake - China Girl is one of those characters I only want to write happy and carefree, and yet...not today maybe.

Dedicated to @gay-frogs08 with my most heartfelt apologies.

Summary: Years might have passed but this will not be goodbye. Miranda will not be abandoned. She has someone making sure of that, reminding her that each and every day. Two someones, actually.

TW: angst, sad!, implied/referenced coma, family, hospital setting, drabble, dialogue only. Wordcount: 100w - AO3 link in title below

Day 7: Miranda Hilmarson - Come Back

“Why don’t you show mama Mir what you’ve drawn, sweetie?”

“Well, this is me, and mommy, and this is you, mama Mir! I drew you suuuper tall because mom says you are…you don’t look like it ‘cause you’re always in bed though. Isn’t it pretty?”

“It sure is, sweetie. I am sure mama Mir loves it so very much. Why don’t we put it here on the side table, so she can look at it?”

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Now we need to let mama Mir rest.”

“Okay, bye bye mama Mir!”

“Come back, Miranda. Please. I- We miss you.”

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[dianneking]

10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes - Day 3 (Commander Lyme)

Hi, hello! It's day three of the angstfest that is my ten days of goodbye-themed drabbles - today we have a less common Gwendoline Christie character, Commander Lyme! Ideally set during that failed first try to gain control of the Nut, but I mean whatever works. It's a drabble, not a fleshed-out fic with plot points and all XD As always, this drabble is crossposted on AO3 and the link's in the title below.

Day 3: Commander Lyme - Don't Look Back

TW: angst, goodbyes, drabble, dialogue-only, war setting, implied death. Wordcount: 100w

“What was that?”

“FUCK.”

“What? What is it?”

“We are screwed, Lyme. Badly.”

“What is happening?”

“It’s the Capitol forces. They’re attacking from above. We’re doomed.”

“No, we are not! We can make it.”

“There’s no way we’ll make it. Unless…”

“What?”

“You are the only hope the Resistance has here in the Second District, Lyme. You die, the Resistance dies with you…but if you don’t, then hope’s still alive as well.”

“What are you getting to?”

“Run, Lyme. Run and don’t look back.”

“No. I can’t leave you. We promised that we’d fight together and fall together.”

“RUN, NOW!”

Liked it? Here's the link to the last one as well as to the next one! And to the 10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes masterpost! And to my own masterlist of all fanfictions I wrote!

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[dianneking]

10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes - Day 6 (Lady Jane)

Hello hello hello! Look who's here, it's our adorable badass hunter, Lady Jane from The Darkest Minds! She gets some lovely angsty goodbyes too.

Summary: Lady Jane is good at her work, and relentless in her pursuit. She will keep that in mind at all times, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge what she lost by refusing to show any mercy towards her preys.

TW: Angst, Drabble, Goodbyes, Dialogue-only, Mentions of Death and Disease, Break-up. Wordcount: 100w. AO3 link in title below.

Day 6: Lady Jane - Work First

“They are just kids.”

“Catching those kids is what brings food to our table.”

“There are other jobs…jobs that don’t involve shooting at teenagers, for instance.”

“You just don’t understand. They are a security risk.”

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. What did they do wrong, apart from surviving a disease that killed countless others?”

“They are the enemy.”

“Jane, what if they had been our kids?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Would you hunt them down, had they survived? Send them to those camps?”

“…I have to go.”

“Sure. Run away.”

“…”

“I won’t be here when you come back.”

Liked it? Here's the link to the previous one and to the next one! And to the 10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes masterpost! And to my own masterlist of all the fanfictions I wrote!

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