no one asked me for more rainbow bees but HERE WE ARE! i’m having late night feels abt the strong buff one being taken care of my her smol loving gfs okay let me liiivee
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Yang tugged at Ilia’s shirt as she walked by, her fist balling up the material of her pajamas. “Ilia,” she said softly, not really meeting her eyes as she continued to stare forward, gaze unfocused on the TV screen in front of her. One of her favourite comfort shows was playing, but Ilia could tell that Yang wasn’t really watching it anymore.
“What’s wrong, Yang?” she asked, settling down onto the couch beside her instead of heading back to her room. Ever since Yang had gotten home, she had been quiet, hardly responsive to any of Ilia’s questions about work or how her day was.
(“Just give her a little while. She needs some space, love,” Blake had murmured in her ear when she caught Ilia staring across the living room at their girlfriend.
And eventually Ilia just nodded, and let Yang curl up on the couch in silence - though not before making her her favourite hot drink and leaving it on the table in front of her.)
That had been hours ago. Yang’s tea, mostly untouched, had gone cold and she’d had still yet to move from her spot on the couch.
Until she’d grabbed Ilia’s shirt while she passed through the living room to get another drink from the kitchen.
“Take me to bed?” she asked, her tone the furthest thing from sultry or sensual. Instead, she just sounded tired. Wrung-out. Bled dry.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Ilia agreed immediately, wrapping Yang up more firmly into the blanket-burrito she had already made herself and scooped Yang’s entirely cocooned self up into her arms with ease. To anyone else, the whole set up would look ludicrous - a pint-sized, barely pushing five-foot-nothing shortstack bridal carrying someone who seemed twice her height (and twice the beefcake) without even breaking a sweat.
To Yang though, she only felt calm. And an immediate soothing sense of safety.
Once Ilia had gently deposited Yang into the bed, she shimmied under the covers beside her, burrowing into Yang’s cocoon and worming her way in. Blake, already in bed reading one of her novels, merely scooted over slightly and lifted one of her arms so she could settle it around Yang’s shoulders and play absently with her hair.
“Could you just hold me, please?” Yang mumbled, incredibly, vulnerably childlike.
“Whatever you need, okay baby?” Ilia hummed reassuringly, lifting her arms wide open and Yang immediately curled herself into Ilia’s chest and made herself as small as possible. “I’ve got you, darling. We’re both right here for you.”
“Whatever you need,” Blake echoed quietly, setting her book to the side and tucking herself in close to Yang’s other side, reaching across her body to join hands with Ilia and form a bridge of protection over Yang’s exhausted and spent frame. “We love you, okay?” she said against Yang’s hair as Yang finally let out a shuddering sob.
“We love you. And we’re not going anywhere,” Ilia said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Promise.”