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queerfanfiction · 1 year

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okay okay okay okay, so. your requests are open, right?

how about a larissa weems fic? the night has already fallen and shy reader want cuddles with larissa but she's still working. r mustered up courage to ask for it, and larissa just need a bit more time to finish what she's doing. r then agrees, and waits up until the night has gone deeper. r decides to just try to sleep because larissa is still deep in work, and that's when larissa eventually notices the time. what happens next is up to you (please make it fluffy)

of course, only if this is alright with you. thank youuu!

- ♡

Guardian Angel

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 2.2k includes: nightmares, scars, ptsd discussion, domesticity, fluff

The sky twisted and darkened overhead while a breeze rustled your hair and gave you goosebumps down your arms and legs. A nervous energy pulsed through the air. No one was around, even though it seemed like someone was just in the corners of your vision. Your breathing quickened, as you began to feel as if you were being watched. You moved across the empty streets, begging for anyone to appear and comfort you. Echoes of your footsteps and breathing rang out, bouncing against the vacant, crumbling structures.

You slump against a broken down, dusty car to bury your face in your arms, overwhelmed with emotion. After a few moments you peek between your fingers at a nearby pothole filled with water that began to ripple. A rhythmic tremor had begun to erupt below you from deep within the earth. Was something huge crawling up from within the ground? Were these impact tremors from something unseen further down the horizon?

You weren’t able to consider a better answer, because suddenly you could not see. The darkening purple and navy sky spilled black. Or maybe your own eyesight went? The only thing that tethered you to the previous moment was feeling the asphalt against your thighs beneath you. A shiver trailed down your spine as a crack of lightening sparked through the sky, illuminating the scene before you. Fog rolled in when you weren’t looking, and it seemed that each flash of light revealed more and more shadow creatures moving in fast pace closer to you.

In a panic and hoping your mind was playing tricks on you, you shut your eyes tightly. After a shaky breath, you opened them once again and saw red. Your torso was stained with thick, dark liquid, and you fingered the area—blood.

You awaken with a fright, letting out ragged breaths. Sitting up allows air to reach your lower back where sweat is pooling against the bedsheets. Your fingertips instinctively outstretch to cover the scars on your stomach.

Another nightmare.

You swallow hard as you attempt to regulate your fluttering heartbeat. You had been doing so well staving off the night terrors recently. You can’t help but be a little disappointed in your progress. You glance to your side to see the bed freshly empty. Just as your heart rate began to slow, you felt it jump seeing Larissa’s side empty. You check the clock. 3:16am.

Before you could flip the covers away to investigate her absence, she rounded the corner and almost spilled the drink in her hands. “Jesus” she exclaims before quickly controlling her voice, adding a measured smoothness to it before speaking again. “My dear, you’re up.”

“I was worried you were having another night terror. Here.” Larissa gently hands off a warm cup of golden milk to you before settling back into the bed.

You immediately felt your shoulders relax and your jaw unclench at her company. With a slight shutter, you let out a “Thank you” before bringing your lips to the edge of the cozy drink.

Larissa had gotten into the habit of bringing you calming drinks or snacks when you were unsettled or having a panic attack. Mostly she’d bring sleepy time or chamomile tea, but when she sensed the nightmare was particularly awful, she would make the tumeric drink currently before you. You don’t think either of you ever spoke of the distinction, but you were grateful that she was never wrong in how to succor you.

One night early into your relationship when you were having trouble sleeping, tossing and turning about the bed, Larissa warmed golden milk for you. She didn’t know that you hadn’t had the drink since you were a child or that it provided such comfort to you. Somehow she naturally prepared it; she was always this way. The act made you feel immediately indebted to her kindness and thoughtfulness. It seemed to flow from her so freely.

You’ve never had a partner be so attentive and understanding to your PTSD. Usually your needs were considered exaggerations or inconveniences—something “extra” to deal with or put up with begrudgingly in order to love you. But never with Larissa.

She would hold you close against her and stroke the hair by your temple while lightly peppering kisses against your forehead. You would snake your arms around her torso and press your face into the crook on her neck. Occasionally she would hum, and sometimes you would too alongside her. Not only was this a tender moment you two shared, you knew it was good for you in more ways than one. Humming stimulates the vagus nerve and plays a key role in activating the parasympathetic nervous system. You knew that, but you swore there was something about Larissa’s distinct, saccharine scent and powdery soft skin that propelled your recovery.

—

It was possible that as the anniversary of receiving your scars grew nearer, an uptick in your night terrors occurred. The past week had shown more restlessness, and you decided to lean on Larissa a bit more. You were reluctant to do so, but she kept insisting you deserved to be taken care of the same way you often supported her. Thus, you had been asking her to wind down with you during the night.

You usually thought Larissa’s dedication to her work was endearing. Sometimes she might bring a laptop into bed and rub your back while scrolling through emails. Other times she would try to leave thoughts about work at the door, which was also nice to experience. Being at the center of Larissa’s attention was something you weren’t sure you could ever tire of; it felt addictive. More than that, though, domestic life with her was everything you could hope for.

Larissa’s home life growing up was not as positive as her demeanor would suggest, and your own family life was a trash fire. Claiming domesticity in your own ways together seemed rather revolutionary considering.

However, as much as you admired her work ethic, lately she has been zoning out and hyperfixating on her perfectionism. One email often turned into two or eight and needed to be written out flawlessly in tone and grammar. Other duties that typically needed more brainpower, like securing bands and caterers for the Rave’N, salary negotiations with faculty, curriculum changes/proposals, and meetings with the school board, started taking up for of Larissa’s free time.

As a boarding school, there really was no such thing as clocking out or leaving work at work. You understood that. It’s one of the things that made you fall in love with Larissa, even though she scoffed at the idea when you disclosed it. Her earnest desire to propose up outcasts as a force of good, as well as bridge our world with the normie world, was so powerful to experience. You loved seeing the looks on others’ faces when Larissa came to save the day in the Jericho town square or knew exactly what to say during a debate between students.

She was Nevermore.

Tonight, though, that was the problem. You’ve been having a hard week. You had been feeling fatigued, had a lack of appetite, were breaking out in acne, everything that signaled your body was under too much stress.

Larissa had been buzzing with misplaced adrenaline too, since she was in “fix it” mode over an incident with some normie and outcast kids at Pilgrim World over the weekend. You wondered if she had stopped to take in a full breath—one that reached deep into her diaphragm and provided relief and endorphins to her brain.

She had missed dinner together. You two were going to make a new colored pasta recipe using yellow and green dye, hoping to infuse it with lemon and herbs. As the time passed, it took everything in you to just order something and bring it to her office instead. Otherwise you weren’t sure if you two would be eating that evening. Your anxiety flared with the impromptu social interaction of ordering and picking up the food—something you were not expecting for your night in together.

When you dropped off dinner, Larissa had promised work would be done soon. …but that was hours ago.

You entered her office in the cutest and comfiest oversized shirt, one she adored on you since it hung down to your knees. With the sweetest voice you could gather, you tiptoed towards her desk to ask her to come to bed and cuddle you. You knew it would be good for her to rest her eyes from the screen. You read somewhere that people looking at screens for a long time should consider something called the 20-20-20 rule to prevent eye strain. For every 20 minutes someone looks at a screen, they should look at something 20 feet away for 20 seconds. It seemed like a small exercise that wouldn’t be too awful to complete, but you were sure she had forgotten any hope to do it this week.

After mustering up the courage to ask for her to help you get to sleep, she agreed and reassured you that she would meet you in the bedroom.

Satisfied with the knowledge that security and safety was imminent, you decided to lay and prepare the space. You put on Calm’s washing machine sound; having white noise of some sort always seemed to help you settle down. After you had whispered something about how nice hearing her work in the background was, Larissa had bought you a lifetime subscription to the app so that you always had something to listen to if you needed it.

You attempted to relax your breathing, not sure why you were feeling panicked. You told yourself to accept it and try to breathe into it. The body’s response to trauma has been something you’ve been unpacking in therapy the past couple weeks. You typically turn to avoidant behaviors, and your therapist suggested utilizing somatic therapy techniques instead.

As you considered how far you’ve come in your recovery, you stretched your various limbs in ways that were meant to discharge the tension you felt. Intellectualizing your stress and panic helps, but you were informed that moving through and feeling your emotions head on and diffusing them would be more beneficial.

That’s why it was such a big deal that you asked for help in getting to sleep. You felt on the verge of tears and needed the comfort of Larissa’s arms to be able to fall apart, to feel your feelings. You needed a safe space to let loose.

—

More and more time passed. You knew Larissa was trying her hardest to wrap up her work, but there was a nagging feeling in your stomach that wondered if she had forgotten you.

Trying not to let it bother you, you decided that you should try to sleep. Your arm reaches out to shut off the marble side lamp while your other hand pulls the duvet up around you, like a protective barrier.

Not long after you resigned to sleeping alone, Larissa notices the time.

Larissa had been trying to cram as much work as possible into the last few hours so that you two could have an uninterrupted sleep. No worries about writing down a suggestion in the middle of the night on the note pad she kept nearby and no mental rephrasing of emails in her head as she lay beside you. In fact, she had been trying to get a head start on some of the other items on her agenda so that the upcoming nights were solely devoted to you. However, she didn’t expect the time to slip away and betray her like this.

She rushes to shut off her lights, computer, and fireplace. Larissa slips into the dim room, with only the light of the moon poking through half drawn curtains illuminating the path to the bed. She removes her clothes, feeling how her skin aches for freedom. Mentally she chastised herself for being late and worried her lip at whether or not you were cross with her.

A soothing whisper melts around you, caressing your cheek with its softness, “I’m so sorry for not coming sooner, my love.”

You feel the weight of her shift into the bed. Suddenly her warm arms are finding their usual place at your back and sides. With a tired voice, you roll around and press into the taller woman’s body, mumbling, “S’okay.”

Your hands clutch onto her as she says, “It’s not, but I am here now and plan to make it up to you.” At this promise, you feel her arms begin to rock you back and forth. Her face begins to nuzzle the top of your head as you two sway.

Larissa’s lips kiss your hair while she gently lets out a “shh” here and there. After a few minutes, she isn’t sure if your even breathing means you have drifted off to sleep or not. She pulls back slightly to gaze onto the face before her, taking in all your beauty, grace, and strength.

“I am in awe of you, little one.” Her long fingers tuck hair behind your ear as she continues, “Every day I am grateful to be met with your existence and your selfless love.”

You hear her whispered confessions and swell with warmth, knowing when sleep momentarily claims you that you will be protected. Larissa resumes, unsuspecting of the weight and solace her words have on you, “I love you and will always be here for you.”

#thank you for being patient dear anon!!#i know this took FOREVER #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #request #requests #not proofread #guardian angel #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #ptsd #anon #fanfic #will also post to ao3

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tenderfxck · 11 months

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hi!! I saw that requests were open and I wanted to request something!! Al haitham x fem!reader somno? Haitham comes back from work at a late hour and ur already asleep. He’s horny and your right there, sleeping on your bed, so what does he do next?? (omg I worded this so badly😭)

somno ahead!! be warned!!

he doesn't know what made him feel that ache coming on in the first place, but he knows he was home. and horny.

and there you were. his pretty little girlfriend dozing away on your shared bed.

it was a long day at the akademiya. filing documents. refiling documents when the intern got it wrong the first time. listening to stuffy geezers rant on all while he was stuck taking notes.

so coming home to you splayed out in such a provocative position did funny things to his normally even-tempered brain.

one leg was drawn up and hooked on a pillow you had been cuddling up to, propping your ass up at the perfect angle for al haitham to see the outline of that pretty pussy against those thin little panties you had worn to bed.

it looked quite inviting, he dare say.

he was already half-hard in his pants when his weight dipped on the other side of the bed, shifting closer and closer to your sleeping form. his chest pressed against your back, nose tucked into the crook of your neck as al haitham inhaled the sweet scent of your shampoo as he pulled himself from the tight confine of his pants.

a deft hand quickly pulled your panties aside, a single finger finding its way between your folds. al haitham grunted to himself, remembering all at once that tightness that laid between those pretty thighs. his cock ached thinking of the sweet bliss your little cunt brings to him, slowly working you open with his fingers so he can chase that high only you can bring him once again.

you may be the one who's asleep, but he swears he's the one dreaming. especially with the way you grind back on his fingers even as you continue to doze, only whimpering slighting and cuddling back up to that pillow when he removes them and instead lines up his aching length.

your eyes only flutter open when he thrusts in for the first time, the firm stretch of his cock ripping a moan from your trembling lips as the fuzziness of sleep slowly fades away, instead giving way to pure lust clouding your awakening senses.

"quiet now, angel." al haitham huffs, continuing to chase his pleasure as he kisses a line up the column of your throat.

"just shut your eyes and go back to sleep. i'll take care of you~"

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casismybestfriend · 7 months

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hii! i saw that u have a bit of an art block.. do you want to draw castiel having a conversation with a little bluebird maybe ^.^ the conversation is serious tho he is so serious about this

anon this is a brilliant scenario you are so right, here they are! 💕

request a character for me to draw

#anon i do hope you get to see this thanks for being patient i really didn’t think it’d take me four days 😭#castiel #supernatural #fan art #my art #my posts #character challenge #asks

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 1 year

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hiii may I request a Noctyx and what you call them ? just like the one you did with Luxiem, I found it to be very adorable and would love a Noctyx one as well, thank you so much!!

- 🌱

noctyx and what you call them

thank you very much for the compliment. even more importantly thank you very much for the noctyx request! i have a few noctyx x reader ideas bc i am dead set on filling up this noctyx x reader tag when i can but i love seeing others just as interested in them as i am

ah, but it's funny, revisiting my first-ever post on this blog and comparing it to how i format my posts now, i can't believe i typed the actual entries all in lowercase, that's the first time i've done that! how strange

...though i will say it was hard thinking of other words for "partner"

tags: established relationship, fluff, gender neutral reader

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🎭 Alban Knox: Darling

The night is tempting and harsh at once, and he plays both sides with fervor, a thief attracted to all that glitters. He takes what he wants, and he's so used to taking what he wants that he doesn't know how to manage how kind you are to your darling. A warm home and hot food, a place to sleep with love, safe. He's never experienced any of this easiness before, and he certainty hasn't been called darling before. He doesn't know how you do it. He wants to get used to it.

🐑 Fulgur Ovid: Other Half

He starts it first. Better half, he introduces you, his Reader, and casts aside his own worth for the sake of uplifting yours. That’s what he does best. You never walk alone because he never lets you go, and you reach the heights you do because he’s your foundation. There is so much care and passion in all he does and it stuns you how easily he ignores it. When will he realize he's equal to you as your other half? You are two puzzle pieces, half of a locket together into a pendant. You complete each other.

🔗 Sonny Brisko: Hero

Like a hero he's always there, and like a hero he deflects. Affection goes unsaid, but simply felt, and very much unlike one he tries to avoid it. He doesn't have the courage to ask. He holds tight around you, nonetheless, and whispers comfort in your ear while you ball your hands around his jacket. Simply felt, as he smooths your hair out of your face and lets you exhale, and when you say his name like that, full of adoration and all he never thought he could be, my hero, he forgets how to breathe himself.

🔮 Uki Violeta: Soulmate

You’ve never known color in feeling until you met him, and now that he's in your life, you see him in the sunlight as naturally as the shadows and shines that come through. He breathes life into art with the quirk of his lips at song and in just a moment you see all there is to say about it. But he speaks anyways, and his voice is silk, and when you respond he curls a hand around you while the other holds his head up, lost in your words, the only one for you, your soulmate.

#alban knox x reader #fulgur ovid x reader #sonny brisko x reader #uki violeta x reader #noctyx x reader #alban knox #fulgur ovid #sonny brisko #uki violeta #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #noctyx #4402 writes #🌱 anon #i've been tired lately snnnnnz... i think this might be the earliest i've slept in a long while #even though i think i took a nap while taking a bath today too lol #hope i can get another request out soon before the event starts but don't count on it #thank you to all the requesters for being patient with me

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bella-rose29 · 3 months

Text

finally getting a lockwood request out of my drafts bc I don't currently have the mindset to write another chapter of anything, but I wanna write lockwood stuff

gonna be out tomorrow 😊

~ belle

#“but you only have one series on the go?”#...#there's a lockwood series in drafts that many probably forgot about #and it's not deck the halls #👀#also anon thank you for being patient with me about your request #I'm so sorry it's taken me so long 😭#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader

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toshidou · 1 year

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not a headcanon but how do you think ghost would handle a girl on his team who is very open, very friendly with everyone, tactile, kind of outgoing yk. she gets along perfectly well with soap, gas price etc.

do you think he would be jealous if he didn't get the same favors as his classmates from the girl, since he is… ghost. or if she would still try the impossible, how would he react?

I think about it, and I really wonder how it would go with simon!

You know, I really think Ghost just naturally has a very high tolerance and acceptance for those who seem more open and extroverted (I mean, he very clearly gets on well with Soap, who couldn't be less like Simon personality wise in so many ways), but I also think he adapts somewhat to those around him who he feels comfortable with, for example him cracking a bunch of puns and dark jokes with Johnny.

So with a tactile and outgoing newbie, someone who has no qualms about diving onto Soap's back, a teammate she's had for little over a week, I think despite taking some time to get used to, Ghost would enjoy the energy you bring (as long as it stays off the battlefield, that is. after all, he's all work no play when it comes to missions).

Also I don't know if this is a controversial opinion, but I don't feel like Simon is particularly possessive, or the type to get jealous. He's not stupid, he'd be able to tell if you had a crush on him, and would easily be able to decipher the difference between the way you lightly pat Johnny's shoulder, and the feeling of your fingers as they curl into his bicep, not so subtly feeling up the muscle under his jacket whilst you attempt to make small talk. After all, what does he have to be jealous of when he sees the way you look at him? Eyes molten under fluttering lashes, far too brazen for a public space.

He'd let your flirting go on for months before he ever even attempted to act on it, after all this is a man who likes the chase, enjoys the slow build of irresistible tension; brushes of your hand against his thigh during meetings, his chest plastered to your back, large hands encompassing yours after you asked him for some pointers on aiming.

He'd live to watch you struggle, all the while laughing at your attempts to rile him up by sitting on Gaz's lap, or asking Price about his relationship status with innocent eyes that flicker over to his far too often to be coincidental. Because even when he sits halfway across the bar, near empty glass of bourbon clutched in his gloved grasp, he knows you'll only ever want him.

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piratekane · 1 year

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two: it’s okay to not be okay sometimes

Consciousness comes slowly, like the long beams of sunshine stretching their way across the bed and her face. It feels like warm fingers brushing over her forehead, coaxing her awake. A new day, new possibilities. She can be anyone she wants to be when she opens her eyes.

"Bea," Ava sings from the doorway.

She smiles, rolls over and presses her face into a pillow that still smells like Ava's shampoo. Today, she will be Beatrice.

The bed dips as Ava sits down, her bare thigh warm against Beatrice's bare arm. "It's late."

She turns her head, nose brushing against Ava's hip. "It's hardly past eight."

There's a moment before Ava breathes out a laugh. "How do you even know that?"

She doesn't. It was a good guess. But she's not going to let Ava think otherwise. So she rolls away a bit, just enough to see the soft tangle of Ava's hair where it rests against her smile, and she lets her eyes close again. There's a laugh, a sigh, and then a finger slowly walking from her forehead down over the ridge of her nose and off the cliff of her bottom lip.

Ava sings again. "Beatrice."

Beatrice opens her eyes. The room has shifted. The sun is higher in the sky now, the room a little hotter with it. Ava is standing at the window now, cradling a cup of something that smells warm. She looks back over her shoulder at Beatrice, a smile on her face.

"It's late."

Beatrice sits up, blinking. "I didn't mean to sleep so late."

Ava shushes her gently as she sets the mug down on the small nightstand. "You needed the rest. You've been working so hard." She sits at the edge of the bed, just out of reach. "Too hard."

"Not hard enough." Beatrice reaches for Ava, breathes easier when Ava slides into her hands like water into a glass. Ava doesn't say anything when Beatrice's grip tightens, when the space between them goes from paper-thin to nothing. "I'm going to work harder."

"Bea." Ava's hand brushes away her hair, fingers tickling her neck. "How much harder can you work?"

For you? Bea doesn't ask the question. She doesn't need to. Ava's fingers pause against her pulse and she feels her own heartbeat echoed in Ava's fingertips.

Ava keeps running long fingers through her hair, scratching at the sensitive skin behind her ear, murmuring her name over and over again until Bea can't distinguish one sound to the next. Her eyes close slowly, a heaviness drifting over her like a warm blanket in winter. She curls under its weight.

Beatrice opens her eyes. The sun is starting to set. Ava is sitting up in bed next to her, a book open in her lap. She's mouthing the words as she reads them, soundless as she goes over each one. Beatrice watches for her a moment, enraptured by the way Ava's forehead wrinkles as she stumbles upon a word that doesn't come easily.

She reaches up to brush the wrinkle away and Ava turns to her with a smile.

"It's late."

Beatrice blinks at the worlds stored in Ava's eyes, rings of honeyed color that shine back at her. "I was going to get up."

Ava waves her off. "You deserve a lazy day in. You don't take enough of them."

A tidal wave of affection threatens to drown her. "We can't all afford your amount of 'lazy days.'"

"You're not trying hard enough, then." Ava winks at her before her face softens. "Besides, this is not a true 'lazy day'. You're in far too many clothes."

The laugh that escapes her surprises her. She nearly stuffs it back down. But Ava seems pleased by it and so she lets it exist between them, huffing after a moment and burying her head into Ava's side. Fingers work over the side of her head, brushing against the shell of her ear. She resists the urge to shiver, afraid to dislodge Ava even a millimeter.

"Ava," she starts.

Ava shushes her kindly. "No, Bea. You deserve this. Here, listen." She props her book up with one hand, the other still working its way along Beatrice's skin. "I'm reading Le Petit Prince. See, I can do it. Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu," she starts, mouth clumsy over the words.

Beatrice breathes in the sounds of a language she's never found to be romantic before and lets her eyes close as Ava's voice settles over her. She slings an arm across Ava's hip, hoping to anchor them both to the bed.

Beatrice opens her eyes. Night has fallen now, the sky dotted with stars like a black piece of paper dotted by a pinprick. She's stretched across the mattress like she's swimming to shore, but her shore is standing across the room, back to the bed and her hair blowing in the light breeze coming through their open bedroom window.

"Ava," she says, voice raspy.

Ava turns, a smile on her face. "It's late."

"I'm sorry." She pushes up onto her elbows. The moonlight hits Ava's skin. She seems ethereal. Beatrice stretches out her hand and Ava comes to it like a lightning lure, moving without hesitation. "I had plans to get up."

Ava shushes her. Her body molds into the space Beatrice's left behind. She pulls up her legs, leaning into Beatrice. "You're tired."

It's not a question. And Beatrice can't deny that she isn't. Things have been so heavy lately, like weights tied around her ankles. She can't move without monumental effort. She can't get ahead. Each day she falls further behind. Each day the mountain stretches impossibly higher.

"Ava," she tries.

Ava coos at her, pulls Beatrice around until they're sitting back against the headboard. Ava wraps her arms around Beatrice's shoulders, holding her close. She feels her heart beating through her back, their rhythms syncing easily. It's always been so easy with Ava.

"It's okay to not be okay sometimes," Ava whispers into her hair, the words a whisper in their empty bedroom.

Beatrice feels each muscle group contract and release, a series of steps she takes to ground herself. "I can't do this without you," she whispers back.

The truth is staggering. She hasn't spoken it before now. Years without Ava - miles logged and memories built and routines established - have done nothing to prepare her for the years without Ava that would come after.

Ava hums quietly, her fingers working in complicated patterns along Beatrice's bare arms. "You're not," she finally says.

Beatrice fights back the huff of indignation. "Then where are you?"

She doesn't want to doubt. She's a believer, she always has been. Her faith may have shifted, but her belief never has. Still, it's been so long, she's starting to see Ava in hazy half-memories that fade by morning. Her voice becomes a whisper, her touch more like a dream.

Time is moving forward and Ava is stuck somewhere in her past, becoming more of a thought than something she can hold in her hands.

"I'm here, Bea. I promise I always will be."

Beatrice shakes her head, hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She blinks them back, unwilling to taint this moment with that much grief. "I need you here. I'm so- I'm so tired, Ava."

Ava's lips press against her hair, her temple, her forehead as Ava gently tugs her around. "Then let yourself rest, Beatrice. Let your body rest." She taps Beatrice's forehead with a light finger, mouth quirked in one corner. "Let this rest, too."

Beatrice's throat is dry. "How do I rest without you?"

"You don't." Ava smooths a hand down the side of her face. "You let me rest with you." She shimmies down the headboard until she's lying next to Beatrice. Her hands pulls until Beatrice is tight against her body, her arm slung low across Ava's waist. "I'll be here, every time you close your eyes. You just have to look for me."

I'm looking in every corner and coming up empty. She doesn't say it. Ava hums softly into her hair, her fingertips ghosting up and down Beatrice's arm in a melody that Beatrice can't quite grab.

She can't quite grab Ava, can't quite make her stay.

But Ava keeps murmuring in her ear, keeps running her fingers across her skin, keeps her heart beating steadily under Beatrice's ear. Her eyes droop closed and peace washes over her like the warm light of the Halo she hasn't seen in what feels like three lifetimes.

She hears Ava's voice whispering her name as she falls asleep.

"Bea," Ava sings from the doorway.

Beatrice smiles.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #okay this got... long #and it's way late #but i got caught up in some things and now they're settled so #back to the prompts #i wrote this largely at midnight and spent the morning pretending like i didn't remember writing it so that it was a surprise to me #to see it done #but here it is and thank you for being patient anon #and for making that 2 extremely big so i wouldn't miss it 👀#anyway here's wonderwall #k byeee

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 8 months

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Cheesiesg way yang can propose

Did somebody say cheese?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Blake: Yang?

Yang: Yeah, babe?

Blake: Why?

Yang: Why what?

Blake: (motions to all the cheese paraphernalia completely decorating the apartment) Cheese.

Yang: Well, I made a bet with Nora-

Blake: (Starts walking away) Say no more. I don't want to know.

Yang: (chases after Blake) Wait! What! Wait-wait-wait-wait!

Blake: (stops and sighs) Yes, Love?

Yang: Marry me?

Blake: (blinks before slowly turning around to see Yang down on one knee with a cheese decorated ring box with a gold ring inside) You're serious?

Yang: Nora bet that I wouldn't propose to you the cheesiest way possible. But I couldn't think of anything metaphorically cheesy, so I went with literal.

Blake: (bursts out laughing) Yes, I'll marry you, you dork!

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #proposal cheesy #thanks anon! and thank you for being patient #rwby

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emry-stars-art · 10 months

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Dare I ask why Abram doesn’t like being called pretty??

I don’t know anon, do you dare?? 👀 jk here we go

I’ll preface with: this isn’t going to be as bad as the canon Nest, nor as bad as canon Andrew’s childhood but there’s a tw for assault/coercion

So like. Neil is just a good looking guy, right. We all know this, it’s canon, we love it for him (and Andrew).

I’m imagining in this au some of the major points of his upbringing are (obviously) not having his mother’s protection - at least not as much if any at all idk - and being a lower station than like half the people he’s around regularly. I think we figured Nathan is some noble that has his own land and place of operations, but I think it’s more a title the eldest Wesninskis have historically earned once they’ve proven themselves worthy and loyal. So yes Nathaniel is the son of a noble and expected to take his place as such but he’s not going to get there anytime soon until he grows strong/smart enough to take the title from Nathan. Which, clearly, he doesn’t stick around long enough to get to.

An introduction as a bit from this scene (which is part of the writing masterpost of this au that you can find here!)

So the Moriyamas still have a considerable leash on him. Acting against or refusing anyone higher in station is very much a punishable offense, and honestly? Nothing the various nobles, etc do is worth getting punished in Nathaniel’s mind.

From the time he’s like seven? Eight? Some of the court ladies likely start commenting on his appearance (because this is the Nest equivalent and because they’re above reproach and the Moriyamas definitely don’t care enough to stop it. Doubtful Nathaniel is the only one this happens to). Bit by bit they get more and more comfortable, usually the ladies, sometimes a man or two, and eventually it’s touching, holding, ‘asking’ for kisses, threatening him as a joke they put on for each other. And Nathaniel, of course, can’t even say anything without earning harm. He’s dealt with lots of unwanted touching, he’s used to having blades pointed at him or against his skin, and at least with the nobles it’s never more than a nick or scratch. They just like scaring him. They never undress him or even try more than to get under a sleeve, but still all roaming is fair game to them over the clothes. And the most common (though not only) comment from any of them is telling him how pretty he is. How lucky he is to have his father’s looks, and how could they possibly let that go to waste? (This is the main reason Abram still thinks he’s a carbon copy of Nathan, though he’s not - he leans more toward his mother’s features, and only his father’s hair, eye color, posture, etc)

As he gets older and grows more dangerous, this starts to slow down. Partly because then he’s a lot better about staying out of sight, he’s gotten used to getting himself out of those situations earlier. Not to say it never happens. Just a ‘his reputation precedes him’ - the smarter ones know that if they go too far, if Nathaniel decides he’s had enough, he could kill them as easily as he could anyone else, and most of them know he isn’t as well trained as the Moriyamas would have liked. He’s more of a risk now and there’s others they can subject to their whims instead.

I don’t think Abram would ever get used to being called pretty, even by Andrew. It’s not a full on trigger like some other things, it just makes him severely uncomfortable and maybe even a little scared. Like a kid again. Clueless and helpless. A jolt through his body when he hears it.

There’s plenty of other things Andrew can and does call him instead, anyway.

#all aboard im serving angst this evening #not happy or comfy thinking about anything worse than this so this au stays here #I’m gonna wrap little Nathaniel up in a blanket and give him a hot chocolate T_T #still - good ask anon #thank you for catching that and then being curiou/caring #everyone put in the tags what you think Andrew’s favorite thing to call Neil is #there are no wrong answers #ALSO #if you’ve sent a royal au ask that I haven’t answered yet it’s because I’m brainstorming/drawing for it!#thank you for being patient #not art sorry guys #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #asks #anon #royal au #my writing

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