#dragonmist

The Statue - Chapter 1

– Who's she?

– Oh. I'm not sure if you can do anything about her. She's not…all there I'm afraid. If she ever was. 

– What happened to her?

– Some sort of assault, or a freak accident. I'm not sure. Doctors say it's a miracle she's even alive. She was in a coma for like, two years. Then she woke up and slowly started moving. But she never speaks.

– Does she communicate in other ways?

– Not really. She'll ignore anyone that tries to speak with her, or touch her, or whatever. Most of the time she's like that, looking out of the window for hours and hours on end.

– What's with the…rose stems?

– Oh that's her friend's doing.

– Her friend?

– Weird lady, always dressed in black, swoops in at the most unusual hours to visit her, and there's no point trying to tell her she can't. She just scoffs at you and finds a way to get into the room anyways. Always brings a bunch of roses, and then snips the flowers right off. She's probably not all there, either. 

– Does she get any other visitors?

– Rarely. A couple of kids dropped by at first. She was some sort of school principal I think. But it's been months since anyone but the goth lady came around.

Isadora felt herself drawn to the melancholic figure in the room. White-blond hair pulled up in a French knot, perfectly applied lipstick, light eyes focused on the distance, long slender hands folded on her lap.

She didn't look sick, nor lost, nor absent. She looked like she was waiting. Whether it was waiting for something to happen, or for someone to come, Isadora couldn’t know, but she felt like the answer was hidden behind those intense eyes. 

– Even when her friend is there, she doesn't acknowledge her. Keeps staring out of the same window. She only moves to eat, sleep, wash, and get dressed. Some people call her The Statue.

Isadora could see why. The woman had that tragic beauty Isadora had seen in stone angels, the kind that guard cemeteries and watch over tombs. And the more she looked at the woman, the more her fingers itched with the need to play for her. She felt as if that frozen figure was beckoning to her with the power of a siren's song.

– And what's her real name?

– Larissa. Larissa Weems.

- Nightmares - Fluff & Comfort fic, established relationship | also on AO3

-  She - Songfic based on Dodie's song, angst, larissa x Librarian!Reader - also on AO3

- I wish I knew (you wanted me) - Oneshot, mutual pining. Larissa announces her engagement, Reader thinks something’s off| also on AO3

-Loving You (Amandoti) - Sad! Angst, hurt no comfort. Songfic.  Larissa’s wife waits for her on their anniversary, but Larissa won’t come home | also on AO3 

-Breaking the Silence - Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort. R! wants answers. | also on AO3 

- The Affair - Morally Ambiguous Larissa x Teacher Reader. Multichapter. | Also on AO3

Larissa/Marilyn|Laurel

- Surprising Like Good Coffee On A Bad Day- Longfic (30k+ words), coffee-shop AU, slow burn, COMPLETE! | Only on AO3

-Jealousy (I Could Be A Better Boyfriend Than Him) One-Shot, Angst, Jealous!Larissa |  also on AO3

- SOS One-Shot, Fluff, Flustered Larissa| also on AO3 

- All in her head One-shot Post-canon Fix-it. Laurel is visited in the hospital by Larissa | also on AO3. 

- The Disease - Hanahaki trope with not-really-unrequited love b/t Laurel and Larissa | also on AO3. 

Morticia/Larissa

- Shapes of Love - Longfic AU (SW!Larissa x RichWidow!Morticia), COMPLETED | Only on AO3 

- Guess - Steamy flirty fic inspired by Charlie XOX song| Also on AO3

 Marilyn/Reader/Larissa 

- Between Them (There is no Space)- Two-shot, angst and feels. | Tumblr Part I Part II Also on AO3

Marilyn/Reader

- Secret Admirer - Oneshot, Ungendered Reader, Angst, jealous Marilyn and protective parental figure Larissa. From an anon request | also on AO3 

- In Sickness - Minishot, slice of life. Marilyn takes care of sick SO reader | On Tumblr only.

- Running yourself to the ground - Oneshot, Hurt/comfort, Platonic. TW: Self harm | On Tumblr only.

- Spa Night - Oneshot, Fluff | On Tumblr

 Larissa/Morticia/Gomez

- First Evening Back - Oneshot, short fic, angsty polyamory negotiations, feels. | Only on AO3

- Larissa’s Gloomy Summer - Multichapter fic. 19k words| Polyamory negotiations, quirky with feelings. | COMPLETED | on AO3 only. 

Brienne of Tarth/ Reader (Game of Thrones) 

- Unrelenting Love - Songfic to Madeline by Kiki Rockwell, Epic Love | also on AO3 

- It’s not too late if we’re alive - WWII AU oneshot where Brienne is an officer, R is a nurse,,and they are former lovers | also on AO3 

-On The Seashore - Queerplatonic Prompt Fic - Brienne and R are adventurers together and there’s talk of settling down | also on AO3

- The Bet - Bookshop AU - Fluff and Angst with a happy ending | also on AO3

 Miranda Hilmarson (Top of the Lake: China Girl) 

- Hold me (I need to cry) - Robin Griffin x Miranda Hilmarson. Robin realizes her feelings for Miranda and breaks down into her arms | also on AO3 

- The Set-Up - Miranda x Reader | Mutual pining, idiots in love | also on  AO3

- In Her Arms - Robin x Miranda. Prompt: Queerplatonic Relationship. Angst and Fluff. | also on AO3 

Captain Phasma x Reader  (Star Wars)

- -Curiosity killed the cat - ...and satisfaction brought her back | two-shot NSFW smut | Only on Tumblr

- Daddy's girl | NSFW smut, sugar daddy Phasma | also on Ao3

Lucifer Morningstar (The Sandman) 

- Stranger in the Park | Lucifer x Reader post-breakup hurt/comfort fic| on AO3 

Rare Pairings & No Pairings

- Paradise - Larissa Weems/Valerie Kinbott - Fluffy angst - Valerie finds Larissa dancing in her office | also on AO3 

- Unscrupolous - Laurel Gates/ Sheriff Galpin - Darkfic, Emotional Manipulation. | only on AO3

- Time, and other hazy concepts - adult Wednesday / Larissa Weems | Weird, stream of consciousness fic | also on AO3 

- The Painter (Larissa Weems Snippet) - super short ficlet focused on Larissa’s past as a model for a painter. TW: Drug use mentions, off-screen death.| Only on Tumblr.

- New Teacher in Town (Larissa Weems x Melissa Schemmenti) | Crossover Wednesday/Abbott Elementary. | Mel is the new hire in Nevermore. Larissa has some issues with it.| also on  AO3

- Happy Birthday, Blondie! (Larissa x Melissa)  | Crossover Wednesday/Abbott Elementary. | Also on AO3

*****

It you’re only here for the fics and my ask games or rambles bother you, you can find more on how to avoid having them clutter your dash here!

“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.

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.

SoL was born out of a way to challenge myself to write some smut, and then the plot took over. Then it was supposed to be a somewhat lighthearted sugar mommy Morticia x sugar baby Larissa fic (simply because there was a distinct lack of SugarBaby!Larissa fics and I love me a niche) but again I couldn’t help myself from delving in deeper into the characters. 

Also, I loved the concept of shapeshifting, and giving Larissa multiple faces felt like a sort of love letter to Gwendoline Christie and her real-life ability to portray so many different characters and sport so many different looks. 

“I will find her.” She would do anything within her power to never hear Mirada’s gut-wrenching sobs again. If she had to go the other side of the world in search of her surrogate mother, she would. Even in her inebriated state, Robin was absolutely certain of it. Whatever Miranda wanted, she would do her best to make it possible. No matter the law, no matter the consequences.

“Thank you.” There was so much earnestness in Miranda’s voice that it made Robin’s heart stutter. “You have a really good heart and I’m sorry for what I’ve said,” the blonde pressed on, her eyes never leaving Robin’s face. Robin awkwardly shrugged, shaking her head, unsure how to respond to that.

Because if Miranda’s words from before had wounded her deeply, it had just been because she had let them do so. Because for all of her trying to keep people at arm’s length, for all of her defense mechanisms to prevent people from getting too attached, and herself from getting too attached to them in turn, it seemed that Robin had failed completely at her task. She saw that now, as clear as daylight, and couldn’t believe she had managed to lie to herself until now. Not only she cared for Miranda as a friend, but she had also utterly fallen in love with her.

There was something about the way the blonde was so unashamedly herself, a total hot mess of feelings, of clumsiness and of honesty that had effortlessly punched a hole through all of the armor that Robin had stacked around her bruised heart. Miranda had waltzed in, and taken residence there as if she had always been there. And Robin hadn’t really realized until now. Until they had fought and made up. Until Miranda had broken down and shared her deepest secrets, even more clandestine than her relationship with her already married boss. Miranda had trusted her with her burdens, and all Robin could think about was that she was in love with someone she could never hope to have. That this new, fluttering feeling was destined to be crushed without ever seeing the light of day. Like Cinnamon’s baby boy.

Suddenly it became too much for Robin, and she felt the tears running down her cheeks before she could do anything to try and stop them. It was not fair. She felt a soft “Oh” escaping Miranda’s lips, and she tried to awkwardly shuffle away, muttering an “Excuse me,” but before she could attempt to flee, “Oh no,” Miranda said, in that soft voice again, and suddenly Robin was enveloped in the warmest embrace she could imagine, “No, you can howl if you want to,” came the voice from above her, around her, every place at once, as she broke down completely, hiding her face in the other woman’s neck, breathing in her scent, as Miranda rocked her like a baby, rubbing her hands all over her back and cooing comforting sounds in her ear. As close as she could ever be, and at the same time, so unattainable.

Robin allowed herself to be held, her hands trapped uselessly against her own body, sobbing at the unfairness of it all for what felt like whole days. Mourning the fact that the cause for the heartache were those same hands that rubbed her back, and those legs against which her knees pushed, and that caring woman that had unwittingly stolen her heart.

And then her sobs quietened down, and although the tears were still coming, she suddenly felt that maybe the pain of being held by the woman she loved and could never have was bigger than the pain of crying alone. So she detached herself from the embrace, and muttered a “Excuse me, I’m sorry” keeping her eyes firmly on the tip of her knees. If she was met again with those earnest blue eyes, she didn’t think she could keep all of her feelings hidden. Not right now, when the realization was fresh and terrible and all-consuming.

Miranda’s hands didn’t leave her, one staying on her shoulder, warm and comforting, and the other moving to tuck a hair strand behind Robin’s ear. For a second only Robin’s labored breathing filled the silence of the room, before Miranda murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, “No,” as her long fingers traveled to Robin’s cheekbones, wiping off all the tears, their touch soft and caring as the woman herself, “don’t ever be sorry for what you feel.”

And it was so raw, so honest, and so in tune with what was going on through Robin’s heart and brain at this time, that she couldn’t resist: against her better judgement she allowed her eyes to meet Miranda’s beautiful ones. It felt like the other woman was staring deep into her soul, the intensity of her gaze an unparalleled one and Robin felt exposed as she had never felt before. It felt like Miranda could simply read everything Robin had ever felt in her life, for anyone. Including her. And that scared Robin as few things could nowadays. She had just found her as a friend, she didn’t want her own traitorous heart to make her run away.

“M-miranda…” It was a plea, a request for forgiveness, a justification, and nothing of that at the same time. Robin had no time to think about how to word whatever she wanted to say next, because all of a sudden both of Miranda’s hands were cupping her cheeks and the blonde’s lips were crashing on her own.

It was a desperate kiss, their lips mapping each other before opening up, and letting their tongues meet in a battle for dominance. Robin’s hands came up to tangle in Miranda’s short bob, as the taller woman pulled her flush against her body, Robin now straddling her hips and pressing against her, as they explored each other’s mouths, tilting their heads so as not to bump their noses together, deepening the kiss, and then lightening it to lightly touches of lips against each other, before it became a heated duel all over again, as unrelenting as the alternation of ebb and flow on the shores of the sea.

And in all that time Robin’s brain was blissfully silent.

But her heart.

Her heart was singing.

-----