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dianneking · 7 months

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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.

Liked it? You can find more of my fics in my fanfiction masterlist or in my AO3 profile page!

#dianneking #dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #gwendoline christie fandom #gwendoline christie fanfiction #gwendoline christie x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa/reader #larissa weems fanfiction #wednesday (2022) fandom #dragonmist fanfiction #fluff and comfort #fluffy fic

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dianneking · 8 months

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Larissa: what would I do without you? Y/N: well, you'd be very bored and have way less intrusive thoughts Larissa: you know what? That's...not wrong.

#this might have been an irl conversation #I'm not confirming nor denying anything #larissa weems #larissa weems incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems / reader #wednesday incorrect quotes #dianneking #dianneking writes

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dianneking · 9 months

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Y/N: In a world full of oysters, you are like fish and chips!

Larissa: So I am fat, cheap, and ultimately bad for you?

Y/N:🥺 I... I meant to say that you are hot and comforting and always my first choice...

#larissa weems incorrect quotes #dianneking #larissa x reader #larissa/reader #Larissa weems

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dianneking · 1 year

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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.”

Liked it? You can find all of my fics on my fanfiction masterlist!

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dianneking · 1 year

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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.

Liked it? You can find more of my writings on my fanfiction masterlist!

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems / reader #larissa weems/you #larissa weems x you #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems angst #principal weems fanfiction #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #dianneking writes #dianneking #larissa/reader #oneshot #wednesday fandom #wednesday (netflix)#larissaxreader #larissaweeemsxreader #gwendoline christie fanfiction #gwendoline christie fandom

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dianneking · 8 months

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10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes - Day 2 (Jane Murdstone)

Welcome to day 2 of my little 100w drabble series celebrating Gwendoline Christie's characters as well as my one true love, angst.

Today's character is our beloved dour lady, the one and only Miss Jane Murdstone... I hope you enjoy (the pain)!

As always, this drabble is crossposted on AO3 and the link's in the title below.

Summary: Jane has always been a private woman, keeping her feelings and personal affairs close to her heart. And nobody knows that in a secret pocket close to her heart is precisely where she still to this day carries this letter. The last one her lover sent her.

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Day 2: Jane Murdstone - The Last Letter.

TW: angst, goodbyes, drabble, implied terminal illness, implied death, letter format, epistolary drabble. Wordcount: 100w

“My dearest Jane.

How desperately I miss you. I can see you frowning at this letter as if you were here in front of me, not an enthusiastic supporter of outward displays of affection, are you? Yet, oh, how my lips yearn to kiss the little crease between your brows!

Allow me my sentimentality, my beloved. One last time, at least. Even now, it is getting harder and harder to hold my quill. This might be the last letter you’ll get from me, but you’ll be in my thoughts and in my heart until my last breath.

Forever yours

YN”

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 #dianneking writes #10 days of gwen goodbyes #jane murdstone #jane murdstome x reader #miss murdstone gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fandom #gwendoline christie characters #angst #angst fairy #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #the personal story of david copperfield #jane murdstone fanfiction #Ahahahah Jane MurdstoMe #Jane mudstone x reader

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dianneking · 11 months

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So. Uhm. I did end up picking up my graphic tablet again, after all.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself an artist, I have not received (nor sought out) proper technique lessons and the few that I have received were on traditional media only.

I did trace out the reference pic and I'm the first to admit that this is just fan art and with poor creativity involved too (so don't be mean).

That being said, it was so joyful and relaxing to spend time on gimp with the airbrush tool, adjusting the skin tone and playing with the highlights in the hair...all the while looking at a beautiful reference, so I am happy about it.

Thank you @imprincipalweemspet for encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone.

#dianneking #dianneking draws #fanart #Gwendoline christie #Gwendoline christie fanart #i am an amateur #don't @ me

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dianneking · 1 year

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omg could you do a marilyn x reader? she’s been leaving little flowers and plants in readers room and office as like a secret admirer (she can be a student but if you don’t like that she could be larissa’s assistant) and one day after getting jealous of reader and larissa she tells reader and they confess feelings and fluff

Secret Admirer - Marilyn x ungendered Reader

‘Tis I, your neighborly Angst Fairy! Coming at you with your recommended angst dose (with a happy ending, worry not). As always, I feel like I didn’t do the fluff part much justice, but there might be a second part in the future (not in the works yet though). Also, I added in a very caring, parental figure Larissa because I never had the chance to write her and I wanted to.

Tags: Jealousy, Angst with a happy ending, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Jealous Marilyn, Protective Larissa, Parent Figure Larissa, Mild swearing, Heartbreak, No gender specifications, no use of Y/N.

Wordcount: 6131

Cross-posted on AO3 here!

Secret Admirer - Marilyn x ungendered Reader

“Larissa, it happened again! It happened again!” You tore through the double doors, not bothering to knock, wrapped as you were in your enthusiasm. You employer looked at you from behind her desk, the beginning of a bemused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Oh?” She enquired, “is your secret admirer back at it?” You proudly presented her the bouquet, a small, lovely composition of whites and pinks and greens, bound together by a round of twine. It was sweet, as all of the presents from the mysterious person were. It had been going on for a while: sometimes you would come back to your quarters and find a flower on your doorstep, other times it was a small potted plant on your desk greeting you first thing in the morning. It was sweet. It was romantic. It never failed to bring a smile to your face, no matter how long your day, or how disturbed your dreams had been.

“Still no message on it?”

You shook your head. There never was any clue as to who had been brightening your days as of late: no envelopes, no initials, no declarations of love either. Just flowers, or plants. It could have been anyone in Nevermore, and potentially someone from outside the school as well…there was no way to tell. You had tried to keep watch on your own door, or to change your routine slightly to catch the responsible in the act, but it had never worked. Of course, that only spurred your curiosity more and more. Was it a student? Or a teacher? Or maybe a normie from Jericho? Of course, your favorite fantasy was to imagine it had been your crush all along, that she returned your feelings, and you would catch her sometimes with flowers in her hands, you would both confess to each other and be madly in love happily ever after. After all, the presents were always plants, and who else could leave them if not the resident botanist?

But Marilyn had never given you any reason to believe it was her all along. The few times you had brought up the presents with her, trying to gage her reaction, she had seemed more interested in the plants themselves, explaining excitedly to you what their meaning was in the flower language: “Oh, that’s fern, it stands for fascination! And the scarlet fuchsia here is a declaration of love, and the Zephirantes, or Zephyr flower…” and so on. It was nice to know what those bouquets meant, they always were a sweet message, if Marilyn was to be believed, and if the sender had meant for them to be interpreted as such. Tender love, devotion, shyness were often the themes of their compositions. And yet, as grateful as you were to the mystery person, every time you went in search of Marilyn to interpret the bouquets, you couldn’t help but wish that this would be the time that she would hold you and admit that it had been her all along, that she knew those feelings the flowers spoke of because they had been put together by her careful fingers all this time. Wishful thinking.

“I wish they would just come out and tell me. Or at least put it in writing.” You complained to Larissa’s patient ear, as you often ended up doing as of late, “I mean, what if it is a student? That would be awkward, not to mention illegal!” Your boss had the audacity to chuckle at your distress “You are barely more than a student yourself, darling. Also, do I need to remind you that some of our students have been here for entire decades? They sure would be old enough for your delicate sensibilities.”

“But I don’t want to date a fang! They always need to feed at the most inconvenient of times.”

“Well, you are very much not required to date someone just because they send you flowers, dear. Now, I believe I pay you to help me with my paperwork, and not to pine for some mysterious Casanova.”

“Fine, you win this time! But just because I need this job.”

“And here I was, thinking you only stuck with me because of my charming personality and sensational looks.” Larissa mock-pouted, her laughing eyes giving her away.

“Well, you are quite easy on the eyes as far as bosses go, I’ll have to grant you that…” You waggled your eyebrows up and down, pretending to ogle her. You loved working for principal Weems, she had taken you in right after graduation, when your parents made it perfectly clear that you wouldn’t be welcome back home. She had given you a job, and room and board in Nevermore’s staff quarters, even though you were barely of age; and even more importantly, she had taken up the role of a parent and a mentor to you. She was your mother in all but blood by now, and these past two years working by her side had been amazing. You owed her so much and the easy-going attitude you two had together showed how tight your bond was. Today, she chuckled at your cheekiness, and playfully swatted you and your new bouquet in the direction of the door, from where a timid knock had come.

“Come in! And you, little brat, keep your flirting under control, or we’ll have to have words!” She winked at you, the wide smile on her face and the affection in her voice warming her teasing words.

“Aw boss, you know you love me! Oh, hello there, Marilyn!” You were laughing as well, almost skipping as you went towards the doors, and found yourself face to face – well, almost nose to nose, given your momentum – with none other than the one who occupied most of your thoughts recently. Your smile got even wider, delighted just at her sight, and you couldn’t help but blush at the sudden closeness, taking a weird half-step to the side to avoid completely running her over – not that you would have minded in the least to fall on her, your body pinning her to the ground in an unexpected, but certainly not unwanted position…

Wishful thinking, your brain unhelpfully reminded you.

“Oh…hello there” her smile seemed a bit forced and somewhat pained, as if she had just received a piece of bad news, or discovered an uncomfortable truth, and you felt yourself asking, almost instinctually, “Are you alright?” She seemed almost surprised at the question, and her dazed eyes seemed to find it difficult to focus on your face, studying you with a sort of distracted intensity, as if seeing you for the first time. “I’m fine, thank you. I wanted to speak to principal Weems about something, am I interrupting something?” Her voice rose a bit at this, as if she felt she was imposing on her employer’s time or something. You smiled at her, trying to dispel her worries as much as you could. “Go on! Our glorious principal is all yours, I have apparently overstayed my welcome by giving her too many compliments and have been sent back to my desk.” You flippantly pointed at the general direction of your work station, just outside and to the side of the double oak doors. You were about to exit, and something came to mind, so you turned once more to her, “Hey, are we still on for our movie night later?”

The two of you had bonded over the fact that you were the only two in the staff with a passion for fantasy. For most outcasts, whose lives were already filled with the supernatural, there was little appeal in immersing oneself in a world of magic, where wondrous beings fought against the inevitable forces of evil, guided by prophecies and honor. But Marilyn was a normie, and you had grown up with books as your only friends, and by the time your own powers had manifested, you were already in love with the escapism that a thick novel could hold in its hundreds of pages. When you had discovered this shared passion, you had been quick to propose regular movie nights to her, to show each other’s favorite movies and complain how they were totally not as good as the books. Your chats went on far longer than the movies themselves, and were part of the reason why you found herself falling harder and harder for the older woman; you could listen for hours on end to her enthusiastic rants, drinking in how her warm eyes would sparkle as she gestured wildly.

“Sure.” She answered curtly after a moment of silence, and as you exited the imposing doors, you could swear your heart could be heard through the whole corridor for how wildly it was beating. Even if she felt a bit off, she hadn’t cancelled your little movie date, and that was enough to make you glide giddily through the day’s work.

---

“That has to be the benchmark against which all fantasy movies have to be compared. It’s just such a classic.” Marilyn commented, as the end credits to The Fellowship of the Ring were rolling on the TV in front of you. You were in her quarters, her couch having been unanimously elected as the more comfortable of the two. There had been a bowl of popcorn wedged between you at the start of the movie, but it had found a new home on the coffee table as soon as all the popped kernels had disappeared, allowing you to surreptitiously scoot closer to her, close enough that you could smell the subtle floral scent of her shampoo. Jasmine. Love, purity, and beauty: you had learnt those were some of the meanings associated to the small white flower, as it had been one of the first that had appeared in your bouquets, and one that kept coming back. It had been in today’s botanic present, as well. It was very fitting for her, you thought. She was so beautiful, and when she smiled, her whole face seemed to shine from within with the purest of lights. You had been lying to yourself when you referred to her as your crush, it was way more than that: you were utterly smitten with her, and had been for a while. You tried to focus on what she was saying, trying to engage the passionate side of her that you loved so much.

“I mean, I get it’s a classic, but I can’t help but feel that it would have been much better if we got to see more of Lady Galadriel and her powers. She could have been quite the asset to the Fellowship...and we would have gotten to see more of Cate Blanchett in the movies as well!”

“But it would have made no sense for a queen of elves such as herself to join such a ragtag band of misfits!” Always the nerd, Marilyn couldn’t resist a good tease on one of her favorite fantasy classics, and that made pulling her leg that much more fun: “That’s rubbish! You don’t need for it to make sense for it to be more screen time with a hot elven lady!”

“Oh, come on, she’s not even close to your age! Even in this film, Cate Blanchett was like, what, at the very least ten years older than you are now or something?”

“Oh, let me correct then, a hot older elven lady. And elves don’t really age anyways, am I right?” You elbowed her lightly in the ribs, eliciting a laugh. “Stop it! I’m serious here!” she swatted you playfully on the shoulder, and you noticed that your exchange had brought you closer to each other, and that your knees were basically touching by now. Suddenly the atmosphere felt charged.

“What’s wrong with older women? Age is but a social construct anyways. Who cares if there’s an age gap nowadays? As long as there’s love, age shouldn’t matter.” The electricity in the air felt live on your skin, it felt like a momentous occasion, and suddenly, you weren’t talking about Cate Blanchett anymore. Was that all Marilyn had against giving you a chance? The fact that you were some ten years her younger? In this day and age? Could that be the reason for the secret messages with the flowers – if it was her sending them – , maybe she felt too old to make an overt move?

“How could you even be sure it’s love though? When your experiences in life are so vastly different? A couple of years don’t make that much a difference, but when it’s a decade? Or more? How would you even know?” Marilyn wasn’t looking at you, playing absentmindedly with the armrest of the couch to her side.

“Are you serious? Marilyn, I don’t need a time stamp to know that my feelings are real, no matter the age gap. I might be young, but I am not stupid!”

You turned fully towards her, a leg folded under you, the other left hanging towards the floor. Engrossed in your righteous campaign, you put a hand on her thigh, burning with the unrelenting need to make her see reason. It wasn’t until you noticed that she was gripping spasmodically the armrest, so strongly that her knuckles were white as bone that you realized what you had just said. Fuck.

You removed your hand, but didn’t take what you said back. That you wouldn’t do.

“This…this is purely theoretical, right?” she asked, stumbling on her words, a pleading in her voice that didn’t sit right with you, “You don’t really have feelings for an older woman, do you?” She seemed almost scared at the prospect, not delighted as you might have hoped. This was your chance to back down. You could deflect, and return to your silent pining, for always regretting wasting this one occasion you had. Or you could risk it all, risk throwing away this friendship you had with her, the little moments of joy that made your heart only grow fonder and more restless.

To hell with it. ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all.

You steered yourself, setting your jaw strong as you prepared to lay your heart bare.

“It’s not theoretical, Marilyn. I am in love with an older woman. In fact, I—”

"But that's just wrong!!" You reeled back, struck almost physically both by her words and by the horror painted on her face as she turned to face you, finally. You thought you could feel your heart ripping within your chest at the way she struggled to put her dismay into words. There went your one chance. What was that about having loved and lost? You couldn't help the tears filling your eyes at her harsh words she chose to reject you. At how venomous they were as they dripped from those lips you had been long dreaming of kissing. Wishful thinking.

Marilyn sat up, bending towards you, a hand finding its way on your arm, her voice almost pleading now, "Please tell me you are joking. You are so young. You have your whole life in front of you…you shouldn't be even thinking about something so…so inappropriate!" Every word was a stab, and then a twisting of the knife. That wasn’t how you had expected her to react to your confession: even when you had tried to steel yourself for a rejection, you had expected sweet, lovely Marilyn – the woman who sang to her plants and cooed encouragement to them, the soft-spoken woman you had fallen in love with – you had expected her to be kind about it. She should have been regretful that she didn’t return your feelings, and her voice should have been gentle as she told you she was sorry, but she only saw you as a friend. You could have dealt with that. You would have accepted it, and told her that your friendship was also important to you and you would not your feelings change what you had.

But this? The horrified disbelief you heard and saw coming from her was worse than any nightmare your mind could have concocted. Nothing could have prepared you for this.

"I…" the words you wanted to say got stuck in the knot that held your throat in a vice. You swallowed thickly, but it didn't change one thing. You staggered to your feet, letting her hand fall limply back on the cushions. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. "I…I think I'll…go" you managed to croak out as you made your way to the door, blinded by the tears. You stumbled against the coffee table, almost falling in your haste to escape. You didn’t even feel the hurt of the hit. The pain radiating from your chest was way stronger.

"No, wait, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…I-"

But there was no way you could stay and listen to what Marilyn had to say now, after she had just crushed your heart so mercilessly. You let the door slam closed behind you as you ran back towards your rooms, letting tears free to stream down your face, but you came to a halt in front of your doors: you couldn't face your own quarters right now, filled with flowers and lovely plants that you now knew could never come from the one you desperately wanted. So you went just a little further, and you knocked on the door of the one person who you knew you could always count on.

It took less than a minute for Larissa to open, well used to be always on call for school emergencies of any kind. She clearly had been heading for bed, as there was no makeup on her face, her hair was unpinned and falling around her face in waves, and she was wrapped in a tartan dressing gown. Her face fell as she saw you sobbing desperately on her doorstep.

"My darling what happened? Are you hurt?" You threw yourself at her, and she instinctively wrapped you in a hug, petting your hair with one hand and making comforting noises. After a while she ushered you in, and you ended up sitting on her couch, your face still half-hidden in her tartan, your body still wrecked by your heartbreak.

"My darling kid, my precious assistant, What happened to make you so desperate? Weren't you supposed to be watching one of those fantastical movies with Marilyn?"

At her name, your crying doubled in strength. You didn't want to talk about her, you didn't want to even think about her. Of how pain and horror had mixed on her beautiful face when you had confessed your feelings. Of how she had pleaded for you to tell her it wasn’t true, it wasn’t real.

"Did…did you tell her how you feel?" Larissa knew of your feelings for her botany professor. Of how what had started as a silly crush had slowly developed into something more, something deep and meaningful. Something closely resembling love. She had helped you process how you felt, never judgmental, never pushy, but always lending a sympathetic ear to your rambles.

You nodded, unable to stop your sobs as you whispered, "She…she told me what… what I feel is wrong and… inappropriate."

"Oh, sweetheart! I am so, so sorry." She hugged you again, rocking you slightly, like you were but a baby, wailing in its mother's arms. "Love is never wrong, or inappropriate, although sometimes it might be misplaced. Your feelings are precious and beautiful, and the fact that they are not appreciated by her only means that she is not the right one for you. You deserve someone that would make you smile with the light of a thousand suns; you deserve someone that cherishes you, and cares for your well-being and that will wear your love like a badge of honor, the greatest of all prizes known to humankind. Someone that looks at you and sees a wonderful human being, so full of energy, and promise, and vitality. Someone that loves you as much as you do them, and then some more. You will find that person, I promise you. And then you’ll look back to this pain and see it was all part of the road that led you there."

You felt like her arms and her love were the only think keeping you from fracturing into a thousand small pieces right now, and you couldn’t help but thank the gods that had put Larissa Weems on your path.

"I don't know what I would do without you…mom," you mumbled in the softness of her dressing gown, and she took a sharp intake of breath, before she hugged you even closer, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. Even though she had acted like a parental figure for the whole time you had known each other – more than your birth parents did, even when you had only been one in many students here at Nevermore – you had never explicitly acknowledged the fact that you considered her your mother, and had done so for quite some time. You felt emotion running thick in her voice as she replied, "My baby, my precious darling. I'll be right here for you for as long as I live. I promise you you’ll never be alone in your pain while I’m here."

You ended up falling asleep on her, and when you woke up in the morning, head pounding and eyes feeling puffy and heavy, you were touched to see a woolen blanket carefully tucked around you. No matter the sorrow and the heartbreak, you had someone that loved you fiercely, someone that supported you in your decisions and carefully held you when the world seemed to be collapsing around you. You were blessed. You folded the blanket carefully, putting it on the back of the couch, before tip-tapping towards the door. There was no sound coming from Larissa’s bedroom, and the light filtering through the curtains had still the cold quality of the early morning. You didn't want to wake her up early, and you needed a hot shower to start to feel somewhat human again. You felt like you could face your quarters now, if not the rest of the world.

You closed the door behind you circumspectly, like a thief sneaking out of the crime scene, then turned towards your own door and promptly froze.

There, on your doorstep, unequivocally caught in the act of setting down a single purple hyacinth in front of your door, was Marilyn.

She turned towards you, so many emotions flitting over her face that it was impossible for you to understand any of them, before her eyes moved to the door you had just closed behind you and set into a stony gaze, her lips pressed together and turned downwards in an angry frown.

"I guess you didn't take my words too hard if you're sneaking out of her rooms at this hour." The sharp edge in her words caught you by surprise, even though you were now starting to suspect that you had no idea who Marilyn really was anymore. This angry, poisonous person was a stranger.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Was it a new development or is it just part of your contract? Do you assist her in taking off her clothes as well as with paperwork?" The venom in her voice, the dark, twisted taunting that coated her words made you bristle in anger. Not only was she here on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning after discarding your feelings like yesterday’s trash, but she had the nerve to snipe at you, too?

"Just what the fuck are you trying to imply here, Marilyn? Wasn't it enough for you to break my heart yesterday? What do you want now?" She had the nerve to scoff at you. "Break your heart, oh, please. Spare me the dramatics. I only gave you a good dose of reality, one that you apparently chose to ignore."

"Oh, it's that what it's called now? Reality? Calling what I feel wrong and…and inappropriate?" Even throwing back her words at her caused the familiar knot to climb back in your throat. It was too soon to be having this conversation. The wound was too fresh in your heart, and your mind was still reeling at this new, bitter doppelganger of the woman you were still irrevocably in love with, a woman you were beginning to think never existed in the first place.

But no matter the bitterness, you could see a trace of the old Marilyn – of your Marilyn – in the way she passed her hand on her face, now looking more sad and tired than angry. Her voice had lost her edge too, as she murmured, "I'm sorry I was so harsh, believe it or not I do care for you. That’s why I’m trying to make you see things as they are. That principal Weems is encouraging you in this…this madness, it’s unacceptable. She's just manipulating you, don't you see?" You seethed. How dare she insult the one person who had made you feel accepted and valid and loved? Suddenly the tightness in your throat was gone, righteous anger coursing through you like a purifying fire. "Don't you even dare bring her into this. Larissa has always been there for me when I needed her the most. You trying to sabotage the only good thing that I have left in my life is what's really unacceptable here."

"But that’s precisely it! You are mistaking your gratitude for something else, and she takes advantage of it. She's just playing with you! And you are just too naive to understand it." You looked at her as if you were seeing her for the first time. Her jaw was clenched, as if she was the one in pain here, her eyes almost begging you to understand what she was telling you. Oh, you understood perfectly. For some twisted reason breaking your heart wasn’t enough for her, she wanted to drive a wedge between you and Larissa. She wanted you to be completely alone in the world. You let your eyes fall from her face, the anger that had enveloped you like a river of molten lava had now solidified in a block of icy stone as you focused on the purple flower she was clutching in her hand.

"It seems to me that the only one playing games with me here is you. You have been my secret admirer all this time, haven't you?" You asked, stressing the term mockingly. The way Marilyn’s head fell, hiding her face from your view was confession enough. And no matter how much you had hoped for this to be the case, it didn't bring you any joy now. It had all been part of an elaborate game, one that didn’t make any sense it its cruelty.

You made your way past her, almost shouldering her out of the way, before slotting in the key in your door. But you couldn't bring yourself to open and finish this conversation before asking the one question that was still burning through you in anguish.

"Why?" You whispered, leaning your head against the door, hoping to find some sort of strength in it.

"..." She seemed unable to find the words to answer. You turned to her again, all the anger long gone, and only sadness left in your voice. "Why did you do that, Marilyn? Leaving me those beautiful flowers, making my days brighter and colorful, and then taking the time to explain them to me, talking about love and devotion and shyness and all of that. Giving me hope, only to crush it when I finally got the courage to confess my love for you…I don't get it. What did you have to gain from it? Do you hate me so much that my pain is fun to you? I… I didn't think you were this sort of person, or I would have tried harder not to fall in love with you." And no matter how much you wanted your feelings to stop, you were still in love with her, you thought sadly, eyes travelling up her hunched figure, over her red hair and towards her face – now again fully visible – and to her eyes. Those eyes that seemed to be even bigger than they usually were, wide, mesmerizing pools of golden brown, alight with passion and a thunderstorm of feelings. You could now recognize surprise and disbelief, and something else that you couldn't quite put your finger on, something softer. And softer was the voice she spoke in, little more than a whisper, in fact: "It…was me? The older woman you meant…was me?"

"Of course it was you. Who else would it be?"

"I… I thought that you and Larissa…"

You couldn't help it, you physically recoiled at the thought, your back hitting the door behind you, painfully. "What? No! Larissa is like a mother to me! I do love her, but I'm not in love with her. That would be so wrong!"

"That's what I've said!"

"Wait." You felt like you were getting whiplash from all the confusing emotions surrounding you like a maelstrom. “You thought I was speaking about Larissa all this time?”

“You were talking about being in love with an older woman, and the two of you are always together, always teasing each other way more than it’s usual for a principal and their assistant… And you coming out of her rooms early in the morning, still in yesterday’s clothes, I thought…I thought…”

You felt like you could cry in relief, and at the same time bash your head against the wall in frustration. All this heartache because of a fucking misunderstanding? “Marilyn, were you jealous of Larissa? Is that what all of this is about?” You could see the blush rising up her neck towards her cheeks, and again she moved her gaze to her feet. You suddenly felt unstable on your feet, the door behind you holding you up and anchoring you to reality as your mangled heart seem to suddenly leap back to life, stuttering with hope.

“Marilyn, I am going to need a clear answer here. Do you have any romantic feelings for me?”

“I…I do.”

“Good. I do too.” The words came out hard, as you determinedly peeled yourself from your door and crossed the distance between you, your hand sneaking up to grab her lapel. Your eyes were level with each other, your breaths already mingling; you could smell spearmint mixing with her usual jasmine scent. “I am going to kiss you. Is it alright, Marilyn?” Your lips were but a sigh away from hers as she exhaled a Yes that you immediately swallowed, locking your lips together in desperation. It wasn’t a tender kiss at all, it was an eager battle for dominance, as you bit down on her lower lip, and her hands came up to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair as the kiss deepened, your tongues tasting each other, exploring your mouths as if they held the answers to any question in the world. You distantly felt your back being pushed to the wall beside your door as your hand feverishly moved to her sides, pulling her flush against yourself. She moaned lightly into your mouth, her knee finding its way between your legs, pinning you in place. Not that you wanted to be anywhere else, especially as her lips left your own to travel to the side of your neck kissing, nipping and exploring the sensitive skin under your ear. You thought you might be losing your head, overwhelmed as you were by sensation, elation coursing through your veins mixed with desire. She hadn’t rejected you. She wanted you.

“What is the meaning of this?” A hard voice froze you both, and your dazed eyes traveled a little further up the corridor, meeting with the towering figure of Larissa Weems, standing in front of her open door, hands clenched into fists at her sides, protective fury blazing on her face as she looked at how Marilyn’s body was pressing on your own. A mother bear, ready to face any threat to protect her cubs. You could feel Marilyn’s swallow as she tried to put some distance between you two, but you kept her in place, refusing to let her out of your embrace.

“Uhm. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding yesterday. So uhm, this is us clearing it up…” You sheepishly tried to answer. It would be inconvenient for Marilyn to be sentenced to death by an angry Larissa defending your honor. Or heart, or whatever. Your mother in all but blood looked at you, clearly unconvinced, but willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. “Very well. I however encourage you to continue this…discussion in the privacy of your rooms. This is a school, after all.”

You sheepishly nodded, and relinquished your hold on Marilyn as you both shuffled towards your door, under the severe gaze of Larissa. “Oh and by the way…” she added, as you were about to close the door. You stopped, a whisper of dread trickling down your back at the dangerous tone of her voice “…I expect you both for lunch in my quarters. It seems like we have things to talk about as a family.” How could she make something so sweet sound so scary? You swallowed, nodding your head in acquiescence. “We’ll be there, mom!”

As you closed the door and turned towards Marilyn’s petrified face, you couldn’t help it. You started chuckling, then slowly your chuckles grew in intensity, to become a full-out laughter at the absurdity at you morning so far. Marilyn watched you as you wheezed with unbridled mirth, your hands coming up to wipe away the tears that had started to accumulate at the corners of your eyes.

“I…I’m sorry,” you managed to choke through your hilarity, “this is just…” but you couldn’t even finish the sentence, new laughter bubbling through as soon as your eyes met her shocked features, that were slowly turning more and more towards a sort of sheepish frustration. “Not funny!” she grumbled, her cheeks bright red by now, letting herself fall dramatically on the couch. “It kinda is though,” you guffawed, “You got yourself in trouble with the in-laws with the first kiss!”

She groaned, picking up a cushion and burying her face in it “Oh God, I’ve never been so embarrassed in my whole life. She is gonna murder me.” You perched yourself in the small space between her body and the edge of the couch, prying the cushion from her hands and letting it fall to the side. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her kill you.” Her distraught face peered up at you, glasses fogged up, hair messily splayed around her in a fiery halo. The remains of your laughter evaporated, as you lost yourself in her beauty, a hand instinctually coming up to cup the side of her cheek. Time stretched, losing any meaning while you were deep in contemplation.

“You are so damn beautiful, Marilyn.” You whispered, drinking in all the details as if you needed to commit them to memory for all eternity. You almost held your breath in awe, your thumb delicately caressing her cheek, her nose, then slowly dragging over her lower lip. How could this be real? Maybe you were still asleep on Larissa’s couch, and this was just an elaborate and very vivid dream.

“Are…are you sure about it?” She inadvertently echoed your thoughts, her voice small and fragile and oh so hopeful. “About the fact that you are beautiful? Of course.” You jokingly answered, thumb still stroking her cheekbone tenderly. She pouted under your hand. “Not that. About this,” she lifted the hand from the back of the couch where it was abandoned, to gesticulate vaguely between you two, “about us.” You brought your other hand up to perfectly frame her face between your fingers. “I think…” you placed a butterfly kiss on her forehead over her bangs “…I would like to give us a try…” you kissed her right cheekbone, just under the rim of her glasses “…to go on dates with you…” the left cheekbone was next “…to cuddle with you as we watch movies together…” the tip of the nose “…and, if you like, to spend the nights making love to you.” You ended your speech placing a kiss on her lips, a sweet meeting of lips, a seal of your love.

“But…why? I’m just…me.”

“You is all I want, Marilyn. If you’ll have me.”

----- The End -----

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dianneking · 1 year

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Unrelenting Love - Brienne of Tarth/ Reader

This fic was inspired by the Gwendoline Christie fandom here on Tumblr and it is dedicated to you. You are all amazing, each and every one of you.

It is based on the song Madeline by Kiki Rockwell, if you want to listen to it on YT as you read, this is the link, or there should be a embedded video at the end of the post

t is the tale of a stubborn love, in the face of which space and time mean nothing. It is the tale of your epic quest to stand by Brienne’s side. It is weird, it is full of sentiment, it might be heart-wrenching. It might leave more questions than it answers.

Cross-posted on AO3 here.

Here's my fanfiction masterlist.

Tags: Brienne x Reader, hidden relationship, the shitty world GoT is set in, pining, hiding’s one somatic sexual characteristics. aka chest binding, war, nothing graphic. Gut-wrenching epic lesbian love. < this should be its own tag

Madeline,

Tell me at what time do you set sail?

There's no one in this town left that could hold me

Already packed my bags, could leave today.

You were running through the palace, all pretense of propriety forgotten as you hiked your skirts up in your desperate dash. You had heard rumors in the months leading up to today, but you had been convinced it was only idle chatter. Surely she would have told you first hand if it had been true. She would have at least hinted at it.

But today was the day the ships were leaving, and she was nowhere to be found. Your heart was already beating a mournful tune, as you tore through the halls and the doors and the streets, hoping that at least you would not be too late.

You stopped dead at the docks in front of her, taking in her stern form as she directed the sailors and guards that surrounded her. She turned towards you, and the only show of emotion was a tightening around her eyes.

"So it's true. You're leaving."

"I am."

She had withheld the truth from you to avoid being confronted about it. You could read it in her rigid stance, in the tight line of her shoulders. She wanted to just disappear, like a thief in the night. She wouldn't have afforded you the common courtesy of a goodbye if she had had her way.

"I'll come with you, milady."

Girl at the front of the line

I'm sorry but I cannot let you sign

Your arms are far too skinny and you'd never

Last a single day upon my ship.

She let her eyes run over the wisps of hair escaping from your modest hairdo, your rumpled dress, the delicate slippers at your feet.

"No."

"I am in your service, my place is wherever you go, milady."

Your voice was strong, and strong was the sentiment in your eyes, the one you didn't dare to express in this public setting, full of unkind eyes and ears.

She understood both of the messages you were sending, you knew her well enough for that. But still, she was unshakeable.

"There's no place for you aboard this ship. No service you could offer. The best way you can serve me is by staying here, in Evenfall Hall."

Safe. That was what she was not adding aloud, but it rang in the air, unsaid. Like she was the only one allowed to go out and risk her life in the wide, unforgiving world.

The open sea is no place for a lady

There's reasons that they say we cannot board

Before you say, "But Maddie, you're a lady, too!"

I've long ago denounced that wretched word.

You lifted your chin in challenge. Although shorter, and softer, and weaker in appearance, you could be as strong-willed as her when you wanted. That was what had brought the two of you together, and what had kept you close despite all the misgivings around you.

Already as children, you were two misfits, too different to blend in with the rest of the court, and yet too willful to give in to the pressure to change. You had grown up together, entwined like the sprawling vines that grew on the southern side of Evenfall, supporting each other and becoming stronger together.

Your friendship had been as fierce and stubborn as you both were, and as you grew up, it became a fierce and stubborn love.

Without her there would be no life worth living here on Tarth for you.

"Then I'll just have to follow you on my own, if you won't let me board your ship, Lady Brienne."

"I'm not a lady. Regardless of birth, I never was," she murmured, harsh words barely audible over the ruckus of the port. "Farewell."

She turned her back to you, striding towards the ship without a glance back.

"Until we see again...Brienne," you whispered to the whipping sea breeze with its salty breath, salty as the tears that would fall down your face when you'd be in the safety of your room.

Madeline, tell me what time does your posse ride?

‘Cos I've been chopping wood

And starting fist fights

Surely this time let me at your side.

Once again you were running towards Brienne's turned back, but this time your hair was chopped short, and your feet were clad in too-big leather boots, your chest bound tight. The years had not been kind to you, nor had your voyage on Brienne's footsteps been easy or straightforward. You had taken many wrong turns and had stumbled on many obstacles. You had forsaken your feminine appearance, and your face only held a trace of your former beauty hidden behind gaunt features and grime.

You had finally managed to track her down to this encampment, just as she was leaving it.

"Brienne!" You called, as she was mounting her steed. She was resplendent in her armor, like a vengeful angel bringing divine justice to the world. She turned, looking as if she had heard a ghost.

You self-consciously licked the cut on your lip, courtesy of the latest fist-fight in an inn. In this war-ravaged world, tempers ran often high, and even masquerading as a young boy didn't shield you from the suspicious eyes of weary and angry townsfolk, looking to pin the blame on any foreign sacrificial lamb.

Girl at the front of the line

I'm sorry but I cannot let you sign

You've only tried a pony at the school fair

You wouldn't last a day amongst my men.

She recognized you.

Turning, one foot already on the stirrup, her eyes widened by a fraction, recognizing the familiar tone, and the known lineaments hidden within an unexpected form.

"I told you I would find you, milady."

You could see sorrow mixed with surprise hidden deep within her eyes as she took in your sorry appearance. As if she personally felt the weight of your hardships on her shoulders. You wondered if she had written, if there were letters in her small, precise handwriting gathering dust in your abandoned room in Evenfall Hall. Had she thought the worst, when she had received no reply?

"Let me come with you."

"You have no horse, and I am bound by my oath."

The canyon is just no place for a lady

There's reasons that they say we shouldn't ride

Before you say, "But Maddy, you're a lady too!"

I've long ago denounced that wretched word.

"I'll run by your side if I have to, milady. If you’ll let me."

Your eyes were burning with fervor, you knew it. She had always been the only North your compass pointed towards. Whether she allowed you or not, you would follow. You had made that decision long before you left Tarth.

But her companions had already started to leave, their warhorses' hooves trampling the street and you could see the tight hold that her honor still had on her.

You wouldn't begrudge her that, even if you could. That was the Brienne you loved, strong and unyielding as the best crafted of swords, and equally as able to cause pain. You looked at her, as she was already spurring her steed away, her pained voice reaching you from above her shoulder.

"I'm no-one’s lady, certainly not yours!"

Madeline

Yes, I might scream and sing and sob and dance

But I can swing a sword just like a soldier

So, Maddie, won't you give me just one chance?

The third time she was the one to find you, as you were meticulously sharpening your sword, shield carefully laid by your feet.

Your hair was long again, you belonging to the fairer sex no longer a closely-guarded secret. The rumors were probably what spurred her to come looking for you among the rows of soldier tents: looking for the woman who had managed to rise through the ranks of the army with none the wiser to her supposed intrinsic weakness.

You had proven them wrong day after day, and unrelentingly clawed your way past nepotism, sneering gazes and physical pain alike until you had both the respect and the loyalty of your own company of men. When you had been revealed as a woman, not one of your companions had turned on you, and they had stuck by your side as you ruthlessly, desperately fought for survival. Until today, the day before the Battle of Winterfell. The last battle against the encroaching darkness.

Girl at the front of the line

You'll work twice as hard for half the pay

But if you can deflect their filthy comments

One day you shall rise up and take my place.

"It is you."

Brienne sat by your side, the flickering light from the fires reflecting on her armor and in her eyes. She held her head high with pride, her face an unreadable mask for most people, her long fingers resting on the pommel of her sword, relaxed, but never caught unaware. Her hair shone pale in the orange light, cut as short as a soldier’s. She was harsh and unyielding, as always; and as always, so breathtakingly beautiful.

"This world is not big enough for you to get rid of me, milady."

"It's ser, now," she said, a sliver of emotion filtering in her voice. You accepted it as the present it was.

"So you did manage to fulfil your dream."

"I did."

"Felicitations."

"And what about you? Is this what you wanted from your life?"

She nodded towards your armor-clad body, the shield on the floor, the sword you still held in your hands.

You waited until her eyes were back on yours, so she could see the honesty, and the passion still burning in there.

"I only ever wanted one thing in my life, ser."

The battle field is no place for a lady

So no one would expect to see you there

And if you use this trick to your advantage, girl

You'll cut them to their knees as if in prayer.

With slow, controlled movements, you moved in front of her seated form, your knees meeting with the compacted earth as you kneeled before her, presenting her your sword.

"Tomorrow, let me fight beside you. My heart has always been yours. You now have my sword as well."

Brienne's warm, calloused hand rested upon your cheek as her eyes shone with tears she would never shed.

"If tomorrow has to be my last day, there's no one else whom I would want to fight by my side"

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dianneking · 1 year

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Intoxicated - Larissa x Reader - Drink Two. Truly Bloody Mary.

Summary: Larissa is a handsy drunk. Vampire!Teacher!Reader is a sad drunk. This fact, and their inability to talk about their feelings, blows what could simply be a drunken accident out of proportion.

Angst! Drama! Drunkenness!

Part one is here.

Cross posted on AO3 here.

Here's my fanfiction masterlist.

---

A/N: I am quite ambivalent about this second part. It totally spun out of control from my original idea, but at the same time it kinda made sense, so I didn't want to scrap this second chapter to make a new one. I might revisit this in the future to have an alternative second chapter, but not anytime soon for sure. Beware of the content warnings below if you are at risk of being triggered.

TW second chapter: Drinking, intoxicated people, blood, swearing, angst, mentions of dubious consent, talk of death, talk of self harm, in-depth talk of suicidality. Please be safe if you are fragile, no fic is worth you suffering.

“I know you have something to take off your chest.” Vlad closed the door to your quarters behind him with his shoulder, and toed his shoes off, his hands busy with the paper bag, crystal carafe and two shot glasses he was holding.

“Good evening to you too, Vlad, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this lovely Saturday night?” You sniped sarcastically. You were already in your nightclothes, not expecting any visitors, especially not him, friend or not.

The only person you had any interest in spending time with, which happened to be your boss and the person who had tried to seduce you while completely drunk, had apparently decided to pretend you had dropped off the face of the Earth, so you didn’t really want to partake in any other sort of interpersonal interaction for these two blissfully empty rest days. You even managed to swap patrolling duties with another colleague, just as to have an excuse to lock yourself in your room for the whole weekend.

“I don’t know what happened to you in the past days, but this sulking and hiding away is not something that is acceptable for a young stripping vampire such as yourself. So here I am coming to the rescue like the knight in shining armor that I am.”

He set down the two shot glasses and the decanter on your desk and proceeded to take a clear bottle and some blood packs from his paper bag.

“Vlad are you serious?”

“Truly Bloody Mary shots!” He announced cheerfully, tossing the now empty bag over his shoulder and perching precariously on the edge of the desk to pour the liquids in the carafe allowing them to mix properly. You were sitting in the only chair available, but that didn’t seem to dissuade him in the least. “The only way to get through heartache, as my old gramma always said, bless her nonexistent soul. Do you want to start talking without it or wait until they start to loosen your tongue?”

“Start pouring, you soulless bastard.”

“You know you love me, darling”

“That’s the only reason why you’re still alive.”

“Well, as alive as possible.”

“Truth.”

He expertly poured the first shots and held one out for you to take.

“What should we toast to?”

“To your gramma, bless her nonexistent soul.”

“Indeed! To my bunica!”

That started a long series of toasts, each growing more and more absurd as the mix of blood and alcohol started to have its effect on the both of you.

“To…to alcohol!” You proposed, raising the shot glass once again “That brings out fiends from the most frigid bitches!”

“Hear hear!” Vlad downed his quickly, before pouring some more. The carafe was starting to be quite emptier than when you started out. “To those frigid bitches, may the alcohol always flow in their veins!”

You nodded solemnly, trying to raise your glass to match his, but only managing to slosh it around. “To those bitches, like Principal Weems!”

Vlad had been halfway through his shot when you added your two cents to the toast and he choked, spraying alcoholic blood all over the front of your nightclothes.

“Gee, thanks for that, Vlady, I really needed to upgrade my wardrobe to baby vampire’s first feeding”

He was still trying to recatch his breath from the coughing access that had followed his accidental inhalation of the shot.

“I’m sorry…what?” He managed to choke out “What does Weems have to do with this?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were talking of frigid bitches who need alcohol to loosen up”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but it seems a bit too specific…did something happen between you and Weems? You’ve been giving each other the cold shoulder since Outreach Day.”

“Of course nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. And she has been the one giving me the cold shoulder, that ungrateful piece of s-“

“Woah woah woah. Hold your horses. That doesn’t sound like the reaction one has when nothing happened, so here.” Vlad got a hold of your favorite mug, lying abandoned on the other side of your desk, and poured a generous amount of Truly Bloody Mary mix. “Drink up and tell daddy Vladdy what happened to make you so pissed at her. I honestly thought you had the biggest crush on her for ages.”

You took a sip of the concoction and suddenly sadness overwhelmed you like a tidal wave. Oh, how you wished you could go back to when you simply had a crush for her, when all you did was admire her from afar and imagine how her lips would feel like on your skin…

You suddenly broke into sobs, holding onto your mug with both hands as big, salty tears came rolling down your cheeks. It felt like a dam had broken within you and you simply couldn’t stop.

“Oh my baby. What happened? I’m so sorry.” Vlad was really astonished at your sudden outburst, but he tried to comfort you as best as he could, jumping down from the table to pull you out of your seat and in an awkward hug, the drink still somewhat caught between you as he rubbed soothing circles on your back. “Here, let’s sit on the bed, and tell me everything.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will your tears into submission. The sobbing stopped, but your eyes kept stubbornly watering. You took a large gulp of the drink in your hand, the vodka burning your throat as if you hadn’t been drinking it for the past – how long had it been? – Time was starting to lose all meaning in your alcohol-induced haze.

“I did have a crush on her. I…I think I still do.” You tried to start explaining, Vlad’s hand still rubbing your back and giving you the comfort you needed to keep going, but how could you even explain? “But now it’s painful. Do you understand? I don’t want to have a crush on her anymore! Not after…” you drank some more, hoping to stop your voice from breaking again.

“After what? What happened?”

“It was the night after the absolute clusterfuck that was Outreach Day and…Laris-Principal Weems…I found her drunk in her office. Like drunk drunk. Like, slurring words and all that jazz drunk. I…I thought I could help her” You couldn’t help yourself, you spat the words out, angry at your past self for putting yourself into that situation out of the kindness of your heart.

“And?” Vlad was completely captivated by the story now. Even his hand has stopped his comforting motion on your back. He was suspended in the moment.

“And well, it turns out that Larissa Weems is one handsy drunk.”

“Oh my God. You two slept together?”

“No, Vlad! Who do you take me for? Didn’t you hear the part where she was completely out of it because she was drunk? She probably thought I was someone else anyway.” You didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of your voice. The tears were not stopping, and you were starting to feel hollow inside. Vlad’s hand trembled slightly on your back before it resumed its circles. His voice trembled too, as he murmured in the softest voice you had ever heard him use.

“Darling did she…do things to you that you didn’t want?” The question took you aback. You didn’t expect Vlad to care that much. You were friends, yes, but more of the boisterous, over-the-top, ‘let’s get drunk together and have fun’ kind. This gentleness was not something you were used to.

“No, no I wouldn’t say that. I did want her to do that and much more to me, it’s just… I wanted her to be aware that she was doing it. And when she sobered up, she made it extremely clear that it was just the alcohol, and she doesn’t want anything to do with me. Not even small talk apparently.”

The sobs were back, and this time you didn’t even try to put a stop to them. You just put your mug down, and hid your face in Vlad’s chest, his other hand coming to wrap around you as he whispered comforting words “I’m so so sorry, dear. It’ll be alright, I promise. Tomorrow we’ll find a solution… Shh, It’ll be alright. I’m here with you.”

After what could have been minutes, hours or full days, your sad hiccupping subsided, and you tentatively detached from Vlad, “Thank you, I… I think I needed that.”

“What are friends for, darling?”

“Still, that was a lot to unload on you. I appreciate it.”

He stood up, picking up his paper bag from the floor, and putting all of the things back.

“It was my pleasure. Will you be alright tonight? Would you like me to stay?”

“I think I’ll be ok.” You could still feel the alcohol buzzing through your body, but the tidal wave of repressed emotions was gone. You picked up the mug again and drank it dry. “Thank you for the Truly Bloodies, your gramma was right as always”

“Ah, my bunica, she never missed a beat. Except that of her heart, of course.”

“Bless her nonexistent soul”

“Quite right. Sleep well, darling, and if you need me, feel free to come knocking. Tonight or anytime.”

You grasped his arm in an affectionate gesture. “Thank you.” You stressed the words, trying to impart how much you meant them.

And with a toothy grin, he was gone, living you so very alone.

Suddenly your small quarters felt almost claustrophobic around you. You needed air and you needed it now. You opened your door, and slipped through it, your bare feet not making any sound as they carried you like a ghost through the halls and up a small staff-only flight of stairs that brought you to one of your favorite places in Nevermore: the teachers’ terrace. It was a lovely place to come and think, and you were especially fond of it during the night. This is where you had come to decompress after Outreach Day, before your traitorous steps had brought you into Larissa’s grasp. You hadn’t come here since.

Just another bit of happiness that had been stolen from you in that fateful night. The knot was back into your throat, a mix of sadness, regret, and frustration. You had honestly thought you didn’t have any tears to cry anymore, but you can feel them prickling at your eyes nonetheless, undaunted.

Man, who’d have thought that you would turn out to be a sad drunk?

You took a deep breath, taking in the endless sky, riddled with stars. It was so breathtakingly beautiful. You let the tears fall again, unable to pinpoint even your emotions anymore. Were you sad at having had a glimpse of something with Larissa, just to have it so ruthlessly taken away? Or angry at her treatment of you from the morning after onwards? Both? Neither?

Slowly you walked up to your favorite place to sit, the parapet. There was something just so mesmerizing in sitting so far up over the world, the night breeze gently caressing your face, drying the tear tracks on your face before new ones were made in a never-ending sad game of chase. It was as if you were floating among the stars, offering them your heartbreak, and drinking their light in exchange.

It wasn’t the door opening behind you that diverted your attention from the heavens above, nor it was the surprised intake of breath of the person behind you; you were too deeply entrenched in your connection for that, tears freely flowing now, dripping onto your ruined nightclothes. It was the slow, controlled, almost circumspect sound of heels clacking on the stone floor of the terrace that finally did it. You turned your head and cursed your horrible luck.

Larissa stood frozen where she had been when you turned to look at her. Her eyes were open, alarmed, almost…scared. She was holding her hands up in a placating gesture.

“Hey there.” Her voice was high-pitched and uncomfortable. Why was she talking to you now, after going to great pains to avoid you? She didn’t make any fucking sense, and you didn’t want to waste any more time than you already did trying to interpret her behavior. You turned back to admiring the night sky, hoping that she would get the hint.

Clack. Another step in your direction, followed by a pause.

Clack. It was as if she was walking in slow motion and your slowly-sobering brain could not even try to understand why.

“I just wanted to check if everything is okay.” The words sounded wrong in that high, anxious tone, and at the same time they rang slightly familiar to you, like a memory out of context, or a déjà-vu. You kept ignoring her, choosing instead to look down on the faint lights of Jericho just some way off. They were not as pretty as the stars.

Clack.

“May I talk with you?”

You wanted to scoff at her, but what came out was a strangled sob. You angrily wiped at your eyes, but the tears just kept falling. Why did she have to come and torture you after ignoring you for days?

“Oh so now you want to talk?”

Clack.

“Please. I…I know you are in pain. I understand” What was up with the pleading, desperate undertones that her voice had? You couldn’t even begin to imagine. And you didn’t care.

Clack.

The last clack was right behind you. Strong arms snaked around your frame, hoisting you bodily off your seat and depositing gracelessly in a heap on the terrace floor. Larissa crouched between you and the parapet, her eyes still wide, her breathing labored with exertion.

“What the fuck, Larissa?” Whatever you had been expecting, a bodily assault was not it. The tears stopped, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like you were hollow and broken inside. “Are you drunk, again?”

She physically recoiled, as if you had slapped her.

“No…no. I just. There’s ways to get help. Please.”

You shook your head, still not understanding. Were you being insulted here? “Are you telling me I should get help? Have you seen yourself?”

Her face scrunched up in a grimace, and she lowered her gaze “I… I know I’m not the right person for this but I can call someone else if you’d like. There’s always something that can be done.”

“Larissa, you’re not making any fucking sense right now”

“It’s alright. As long as you keep talking. Just…don’t do anything drastic.”

Keep them talking. A lightbulb went off in your head. No wonder some of Larissa’s sentences sounded eerily familiar. You had received the same training as she did, when the people from the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline had come a couple of years ago to Nevermore.

“Larissa, I wasn’t about to jump!” The sheer absurdity of the situation dawned on you. That explained the cautious approach, the nervous voice, the bodily removal from your favorite sitting place.

“You…weren’t?”

“Is that what all of this was about? Are you out of your mind?”

Larissa bristled, her temper rising to match your disbelieving tone.

“What was I supposed to think? You were there, in the middle of the night, blood down your front, sitting on the parapet and sobbing your heart out. And that was after days of retiring yourself from interaction with others.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“You think I don’t know?” Her voice was high, raw with emotion “How do you think I felt five minutes ago, believing you were ready to kill yourself because when I’m drunk I just cannot keep my bloody hands to myself? I…I don’t want to ever experience that again. I am so sorry to have caused you pain.” You were struck dumb. How did this become such a huge deal all of a sudden? Yes, she had broken your heart, but that was, as much as you liked to be dramatic, not a matter of life or death. You would get over it, especially if she stopped acting so fucking weird.

Larissa passed a distraught hand on her face, smudging the dark lines around her eyes. She changed her position and sat on the stone floor instead of crouching. She sighed, a sad, deep, all-encompassing sound of defeat.

“There’s another school for outcasts, up in Canada. It mainly caters to werewolves and doesn’t have the longstanding tradition that Nevermore has, but it will do, I guess.”

Your point, exactly. What was she going on about?

“Oh, so now you want to send me away? So that I’m out of sight and not at risk of reminding you of-“

“Of course not. I meant for myself. I will resign.” This shocked you out of your passive-aggressive state. Larissa leaving the school? That was absurd.

“You can’t be serious. Larissa, you are Nevermore. You cannot just resign over a drunken mistake. One that almost no one knows about, as well. I will keep my mouth shut, and…and keep out of your way if you want.”

“That is not what I want! Can’t you see? I molested you! You were helping me and in my drunken state I thought that meant that you reciprocated my feelings for you and I just assaulted you, my employee! I am not fit to be in charge of Nevermore. Hell, I shouldn’t even be in charge of a fish tank!”

“You…you have feelings for me?”

“Of all of what I said that’s what you choose to focus on? That’s not the point here! Being attracted to you doesn’t allow me to do things to you that you didn’t want to in the first place.”

You grasped her hand, and she jolted, as if you had tased her.

“Larissa, look at me.” Her blue eyes were full of tears, unguarded like that one fateful night, but this time due to the strength of her emotions, not the alcohol. You were seeing the true Larissa again, not Principal Weems and you would be damned if you didn’t take advantage of it. “I didn’t reject you because I didn’t want your advances. Quite the contrary. But you were drunk, and I was sober, and I didn’t want to take advantage of your uninhibited state just because I had a crush on you for the longest of times. It wasn’t right.”

“You…don’t hate me for what I did to you that night?” She looked so fragile, so incredulous, that you put your other hand on her cheek, a comforting touch.

“Larissa, I don’t think I could hate you even if I tried. Am I mad at you for refusing to talk to me about what happened and ignoring me in the last days? Abso-fucking-lutely. But the only thing that drove me crazy about that night was the fact that I believe that had been my one chance to be with you, when you were too out of it to know it was me.”

“I…I did know it was you. That was what made me that…uninhibited.”

“Would you mind trying that again some other time when the both of us are sober?”

A tremulous smile bloomed on her face. It was a tiny, shy, wobbly thing, but right now, it felt like the biggest success.

“Tomorrow after some hot chocolate at the Weathervane?”

You pressed your lips to hers, a chaste, closed-mouth gesture, full of affection and promise.

“It’s a date, Larissa.”

You stayed there for a while, sitting like kids on the stone floor under the stars, holding your hands, lost in each other’s eyes. When you finally broke the spell, and the both of you climbed back to your feet – with some muttered curse, the cold stone at night wasn’t too kind on the joints for either of you – Larissa jokingly pointed to the darkened stains on the front of your nightgown.

“So, what happened there, did you murder someone before coming up here?”

You chuckled, looping your arm through hers and leading her companionly towards the stairs.

“Well, in vampire culture, there’s this thing called Truly Bloody Marys, or Truly Bloodies if that’s too much of a mouthful…”

#larissa weems x reader #larissaxreader #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems x reader fanfiction #larissa weems angst #dianneking #dragonmist #crossposted on ao3 #larissa weems fanfic #wednesday fandom #wednesday the series #wednesday fanfic #wednesday #tw suicidality

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