I know ferineblake already requested this but Agegap Monochrome please? But the reverse- I mean like if you were going to write about an older wolfy younger blakey, could you maybe write about an older blakey younger wolfy? Or vice versa. (ouo)
So you get younger Blake/older Weiss and since you specified Wolfy I figured, why not, let's make this the cop AU, I haven't done anything for that recently. I hope you enjoy it!
----
The moments had become few and far between, as Blake adjusted to her—her new life. Because that was what this was, now. She couldn’t run from it anymore. Her life as a member of White Fang was over, and now she was just Blake Belladonna: sixteen years old, about to turn seventeen soon, and tentatively looking over Beacon once Weiss had dropped the subject.
She had been given back Gambol Shroud, though she was still being fiercely monitored. Weiss had pulled some strings, had gotten her a local job at a library to keep her from going mad with boredom. She visited with Eve and Odelle, and her cousin wasn’t above crashing into the library during her work hours.
And when her shift was over she walked the short distance to Weiss’s apartment. It was… nice. She had a life. A new life.
But sometimes, she just… still missed White Fang. Missed what it had been. And more than anything, she missed Adam.
It had hit her this time in the middle of the night, waking her up from what had been a relatively peaceful, if dreamless sleep. Weiss was warm beside her, her breathing deep and even, canine ears relaxed and loose; ever since they’d started having sex regularly, the cop had given up and had let Blake stay in her room.
At least she hadn’t woken up crying, even if she could hear the hitch in her breath and feel the tears stinging at her eyes. At least she hadn’t woken up Weiss.
Weiss.
Weiss was next to her. The cop that had annoyed her, infuriated her, confused her at every turn. Taking a deep, shaking breath, the feline faunus turned and wrapped her arms tight around the older woman, buried her face in her shoulder and clung.
When Weiss’s arms came around her, warm and gentle, fingers tangling in her hair and stroking her ears, Blake managed a weak, choked purr. The cop’s lips brushed against her forehead, and the former terrorist sniffled.
Weiss didn’t ask, just held her through the night until she fell asleep again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn close.