#I COULD HAVE . I COULD HAVE SWORN I POSTED THIS LAST NIGHT AND I WENT TO SR IT SINCE I DIDNT SEE ANY NOTWS

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Pretty Boy✨

OOOOOHHHH BUDDY I'm excited to post this story! I'm not gonna ramble for this one, so please enjoy the ride 😉

(I'm a teeny bit late on posting this but better late than never!)

Summary: You find something peculiar in the walk-in closet...

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, lingerie, mention of toys, oral (f receiving), collars, pegging

"Damn it! Where the hell is it?," you shouted in frustration. You should have looked for that dress before you hopped in the shower, things would have been way smoother. Now you stood in your walk-in closet with damp hair and adorning nothing but a towel that was wrapped tightly around your chest. You could have sworn you saw that purple sequence dress hanging in here last night! Where could it have gone? You rummaged around your closet for 10 minutes now, but you still came up empty handed! You stomped over to the last rack of hanging clothes closest to the back wall, scanning every article of clothing.

While pushing each dress from left to right that wasn't the one you were hoping to find, something had caught your eye. A small golden handle on the left side of the wooden wall with hinges on the right side. A door? You were in here so often, it's hard to imagine how you could have missed it! Tentatively, you reached out to grab the handle, curious as to what you would find. The small door slowly creaked open and...woah...

You blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing what you saw hanging in there. "Lingerie?," you mumbled to yourself. Well, it certainly wasn't yours, you never really cared to wear something like that yourself, and Lucifer never seemed to mind your decision either, thankfully. You pulled one of the hanging pieces from the rack to examine it closely. The design was elegant as far as lingerie was concerned. Black fabric with lacy red leaf designs on the breasts and stomach area with no coverage around either side of the abdomen.

It was cute...but who's was it? Perhaps it was Lucifer's ex-wife Lilith's? You weren't sure why she would leave it behind. Or why Lucifer would keep them. But the more you looked at the piece of clothing you held, that didn't seem right either. This was small, smaller than most lingerie you'd seen before. And from what you had seen from pictures, Lilith was not a small woman, far from it. She had to have been at least 7' ft. tall, she would never fit in something like this.

You continued to ponder this until you went back to explore the hidden closet. There were more items located at the very bottom that brought a sudden blush to you face. "Holy shit...," you mouthed, struggling to get your brain to process what you've just found. You felt like you just accidently stumbled into one of Hell's sex shops! Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, collars, bottles of lube and...was that a strap on? What the hell was this perverted closet?! It didn't make sense! Why was this here? Who did this stuff belong to? Why would Lucifer...?

Wait...Lucifer...

Oh! OH SHIT!

It finally clicked in your brain. This was never Lilith's. This was Lucifer's!

“Ok, ok, it’s ok, it’s fine,” you told yourself, “it’s…oh fuck me…”

You stood there dumbfounded, imagining him in the skimpy outfit you held in your hand. You saw him sprawled out in front of you on the bed, drool trailing down the side of his mouth. You saw his half- lidded eyes staring back at you as you hovered over him, his expression filled with need and lust. Your face suddenly felt hot. You were so lost in your fantasy that you didn’t hear the footsteps growing louder behind you.

“Honey?,” Lucifer called out, “are you ready to go? We’re gonna be late for-” he froze as soon as he turned the corner and saw you in your hypnotized state. You snapped your head towards him, holding him in place with your vacant stare. You both stood there wordlessly for a few seconds until Lucifer finally found his voice again.

“I-I…,” he stuttered, “I can explain.”

Oh, you would love to hear his explanation for this. But you quickly decided that you were going to have a little fun with him. Feigning annoyance, you folded your arms across your chest, still hanging on the piece of lingerie.

"And when exactly were you going to tell me about this, Lucifer?" you chastised, almost cracking a smile. "Or were you hoping that I wouldn't find this dirty little closet of yours?"

"Yes! I mean no! Th-that's not it!," he stumbled over his words. He was panicking. It was adorable watching his cheeks turn a shade of red you've never seen from him before. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down after the sudden heat spike he felt climb up his face. "Please, love, I'll tell you everything! I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know what you were going to think. I was going to tell you...eventually."

"So let me get this straight," you replied as you sauntered your way over to him, making your way over to the shaken-up man. He backed away from you slowly until he hit the end of the vanity on the other side of the room, gripping it for dear life. Once you finally stood in front of him, you grabbed Lucifer by his tie and forced his face to be inches away from yours. He held his breath as you leaned in closer and closer until he could feel your hot breath on his lips. "You mean to tell me…,” you whispered, “that I could have been fucking you senseless in lingerie this entire time?!"

In that moment, Lucifer’s mind absolutely shattered. Did you say what he thinks you just said? He inhaled sharply after remembering how to breathe. “Y-You…I…th-this is…WHAT?,” he choked out.

“Did I stutter?,” you snickered. You closed the gap between you two and placed a searing kiss on his lips. Though hesitant at first, Lucifer couldn’t help but melt into you, his eyes fluttering shut, your tongues entangled in an elegant dance. You pulled away from him, much to Lucifer’s dismay and flashed him a lustful yet devious grin. “I’m sorry for acting like I was upset with you just now, Luci. That was a tad mean, I admit. In all honesty, it’s actually quite the opposite.”

Lucifer finally released his death grip on the vanity and stood up straight, adjusting his tie that you had loosened. “Th-That’s umm,” Lucifer swallowed hard, “that’s a relief to hear, darling. This is probably the best reaction I could have hoped for.” He flashed a nervous toothy smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think,” you smiled coyly, dropping the towel you had wrapped around your body and revealing your nakedness to a now wide-eyed and mouth agape Lucifer, “we can be a little late for dinner.”

You saw Lucifer swallow hard at the sight of you. “S-sweetheart,” he began,” I admire your eagerness, I really do! B-but we shouldn’t be late, it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation there and-”

Before he could finish making up excuses, you tossed the lingerie onto the vanity behind him and leaned forward to place your hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him against it. “You’re the King of Hell, Lucifer,” you retorted, “what are they going to do if we’re late, turn you away? Besides…” you took one of your hands and palmed the very apparent bulge in Lucifer’s suit pants, causing him to moan, “we really shouldn’t go out while you’re in this state, don’t you agree?”

Lucifer tried to steady his breathing as you continued to rub him through his pants which were now becoming extremely tight and uncomfortable. “It’s-mmph fuck…your fault,” was all he could manage.

You chuckled, loving the effect you had on him. Not to be outdone, one of Lucifer’s hands quickly slipped down between your wet folds, eliciting a surprise yelp from you. You removed your hand from his pants and gripped his shoulder for balance instead. “Well, well,” Lucifer hummed against you, “seems like I’m not the only one who’s needy right now.” He continued to tease your entrance with his fingers, your grip on his shoulder growing tighter with every passing second. But you refused to let him have the upper hand.

“So that’s how we’re gonna play this, huh?” You breathed against his neck.

“You started it, so don’t-HEY!” With one swift motion, you latched onto Lucifer’s hips and threw him over your shoulder while he tried to playfully squirm away from your grasp. You turned and marched your way over to the bed with a coy smile. “Damn it, let me go!,” Lucifer laughed, but the hold you had on him tightened even further. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Please put me down, love, I didn’t mean to-WOAH!” You gave him wish by tossing Lucifer onto the mattress beneath him.

“If you’re really sorry,” you teased as you hovered over him, “you’re gonna put that tongue of yours to good use.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, nodding his head vigorously. You chuckled at his eagerness to please you; it was always so endearing. “You know this is supposed to be a punishment, Luci,” you joked.

“Oh trust me, darling,” he smirked, “this will NEVER be a punishment for me.” With that, he grabbed ahold of your waist and forced your body forward, your dripping cunt now mere inches away his lips. You had no time to respond before you felt his tongue dart across your slit. A wanton moan escaped your lips as he worked his tongue around your clit, circling it with such vigor and passion. His hands dug into either side of your thighs, making sure you couldn’t move away from his ministrations. You couldn’t help but begin to grind your hips against his face, attempting to feel as much of him as possible.

“So g-good for me, Luci,” you staggered, “ffffuuuuck, s-such a good boy for me.”

Your words only seemed to make Lucifer pick up his speed, humming against your slick. His forked tongue darted in and out of you at a relentless pace, his own erection all but forgotten at this point. He was more lost in your pleasure and your intoxicating taste to worry about the almost unbearable tightness in his pants. You felt yourself reaching your peak. No matter how many times Lucifer goes down on you, you knew you’d never last long. He knew exactly what he was doing and he took pride in it. That knot forming in your stomach was on the verge of snapping at any moment.

“FUCK LUCIFER,” you moaned, “FUCKFUCKFUCK!” You forgot how to breathe as your orgasm hit you, your walls clenching around nothing as Lucifer lapped up your juices and helped prolong your high. You caught your breath once your body began to relax again. You shifted your body downwards so you could see Lucifer’s face again, now freshly adorned with your release. He flashed you an innocent looking grin, making you smirk and roll your eyes. You gave him a quick peck on his lips, tasting the faintest hint of yourself on them.

“Good boy,” you praised him, a small whimper escaping Lucifer’s throat. “Go change for me,” you tossed your head to side, indicating to the clothing you left on the vanity. Lucifer’s face flushed a deep shade of red, nodding his head wordlessly. “I’ll be right back, love.”

You made your way off the bed and walked over back to the walk-in closet, stopping at your now new favorite section. You grabbed the strap on and placed it around your waist, adjusting the harness to make sure it was snug against your body. The appendage itself wasn't overly large, around the standard 6 inches. It was perfect for both of you though, who knows how long it's been since Lucifer's done this. You wanted to take things slowly. You grabbed a bottle of lube and were about to leave when you something else in that small cupboard caught your eye. You reached down and grabbed it, wanting to complete his little ensemble. You hid the object behind your back so Lucifer couldn't see it at first.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the closet once more. You scanned the bedroom in front of you until your eyes landed on him. His back was towards you, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, seemingly gripping the sheets below him. You could sense that he was nervous. And if you were being honest, you were too. But tonight you we're going to take care of him, he more than deserved it.

"Luci?," you called out sweetly. Lucifer sat up straight when he heard his name, looking over his shoulder and giving you a faint smile. You slowly moved towards him, your breathing becoming shakier. He stood up from his seated position, hands clenched at his sides when you stopped in front of him. There was no way to hide the flush of your cheeks when you saw him in his lingerie for the first time.

Breathtaking.

The minimal clothing hugged his body so well, and the black and red coloring made his pale skin pop. You couldn't stop staring, and he noticed. He looked away from you, feeling embarrassed, as if he were on display. You took your free hand and placed in under his chin, turning his head and gazing into his lovely yellow eyes. "You look absolutely stunning, Luci. So beautiful..." you trailed off, placing a small kiss on his forehead. Lucifer couldn't help but bury his face in his hands from your words of affection.

"Can you turn around for me, baby? I have one last thing for you," you asked. Lucifer did as you asked, exhaling a deep breath. You took the object you had in the hand behind your back and wrapped it around his neck. A deep red collar with beautiful golden patters and swirls embroidered onto it. Sewn into the front in large cursive letters spelled the words "Pretty Boy". Lucifer turned around and faced you again, lifting his hand to grab his newly embellished neck. "It suits you, my pretty boy," you cooed, palming his cheek and gently rubbing your thumb against his soft skin. You could make out the tiniest of tears forming in your lover's eyes as he leaned into your touch.

"Are you ready?," you asked sweetly.

"Yes," he whispered against your hand.

"We're going to take our time, alright?," you soothed. "If at any time you want to stop, tell me and we'll be done, no questions asked. You promise?"

"I promise," he smiled.

"That's my good boy," you approved. "How do you want to do this; on your back or on your hands and knees? Whatever you want."

Lucifer swallowed hard. "B-Back, please. Wanna see you."

"I was hoping you'd say that" you chuckled. "Lay down for me."

Lucifer quickly crawled back onto the bed and laid down flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge. You grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and placed it underneath his head, doing your best to make him as comfortable as possible. You walked around to where his legs hung, grabbing the bottle of lube and placing some on your first two fingers. "Legs up," you told him, and he complied immediately. His ankles now rested on either of your shoulders as he looked at you with the neediest expression you've ever seen from him.

"Let's warm you up, love," you hummed, "just relax for me, okay?" Lucifer shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths in and out as you shifted the fabric out of the way from his entrance. It also wasn't lost on you that his cock had been straining against his clothes this whole time, you planned on giving it some much needed attention. Slowly, you placed your first finger against his hole, feeling his body jolt from the sensation.

"I'm alright!," Lucifer nearly shouted, making sure you didn't pull away from him, "just...surprised me is all! Please don't stop."

With a smile, you pushed your index finger inside of him, feeling the tightness squeezing around you. Lucifer bit his lip and released a guttural moan. You set a slow pace as you thrusted your finger in and out of him, feeling his muscles relaxing with every movement.

"M-more, please more," Lucifer babbled. It was impossible to ignore his pleading, so you complied by inserting your second finger into him, picking up your movements slightly. "Ssshhhiiitt..." you heard Lucifer curse as you separated your fingers inside of him, stretching him further. You stretched and pushed your fingers inside as far as you could; Lucifer was already becoming an incoherent mess. After a minute or two of your continued ministrations, you finally removed your fingers from him, causing Lucifer to whimper desperately.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," you praised. You took the bottle of lube once more and applied a generous amount to the strap. You lined up the tip up against his entrance, hearing Lucifer's breath hitch. "Ready, Luci?"

"Yes, please," he whispered almost inaudibly.

You pushed the tip into him as slowly as you could, stopping only halfway when you heard Lucifer nearly scream.

"Do you need me to stop?," you asked anxiously.

"No, no! It's...it's alright," he heaved, "j-just give me a minute, please. It burns somewhat, I kind of forgot about that part." You stayed motionless for about 30 seconds before you heard Lucifer give you the okay to start moving again. You shifted your hips to pull out of him and began to slowly sink back into him. Lucifer clawed at the sheets beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations you were giving him. After only a few more seconds, you had sheathed yourself inside of him as far as you could go. The noises Lucifer was making sent shivers straight down your spine; you wanted more.

"F-fuck..." Lucifer choked out, "Please...please move...n-need it...need you..." He was barely able to form a complete sentence anymore. Not wanting to deny him any longer, you started thrusting your strap in and out of him at a steady pace. The slapping of your skin against his echoed throughout the room, mixing with Lucifer's moans of pure ecstasy. Lucifer arched his back as each of your thrusts brushed against his prostrate. You reached down and pushed more of the fabric away, finally freeing his aching cock that was already leaking an excess amount of precum. You began to stoke him in tandem with your thrusts. Lucifer's eyes shot open from this new sensation he could feel all throughout his entire body, letting out a scream of pleasure.

Lucifer stared back at you as you continued to pound into him. You saw the tears welling up in his eyes, a smile of pure joy spread across his face. It was a feeling of pure bliss; a sense of euphoria had ripped through him. His heart was full. You were and are his everything. You leaned down closer to him, and with your free hand, interlaced your fingers with his own.

“You’re taking me so well, Luci,” you cooed, quickening your thrusts. “You look so pretty, my sweet boy.”

“Hnng, c-can’t…fuckfuckfuck, so c-close, please, don’t stop…gonna-FUCK…gonna cum…” Lucifer mewled. “L-Love you…love you so much, my angel, p-please…”

Your thrusts became erratic and you felt his cock twitching in your hand, ready to burst at the seams. “Love you more, Lucifer. Cum for me, baby, it’s alright. Let it all out for me.”

With a few more sharp thrusts of your hips, his orgasm had knocked the wind of of his lungs. Strings of his hot seed burst out of him, ruining his lovely outfit and spilling over your hand. Your thrusts and stroking had slowed as you helped him ride out his high. Lucifer was left a breathless mess beneath you. You hummed as you licked your hand clean of Lucifer’s mess, savoring its taste. You inched your way out of him gently, locking your hands around his ankles and letting his legs sway freely off the bed once again. After stepping out of the strap, you went and picked up the towel you had left on the floor over by the vanity. You patted down on Lucifer's stomach, wiping away the remains of his orgasm. Crawling up beside him, you outstretched your arms and brought him flush against your chest.

"You did so well, Luci," you murmured against his ear, "are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Lucifer shifted himself so he could face you. His eyes seemed to shimmer when he looked into yours, his expression was soft and serene. "All I'll ever need is you, my dear. Thank you...for this. For everything. I love you...more than anything."

You leaned into each other, your lips crashing together as if it would be the last time. But you knew it wouldn't. You'd always be there for him, just as he would for you. You pulled away and brushed his fallen hair away from his face.

"I guess we missed our reservation," you joked.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely famished," Lucifer laughed. "I should probably go change again, huh?"

"Yes, go get your suit!" Before he could sit up, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, placing his forehead against your own. "But leave the lingerie on underneath. I'm going to want dessert after our meal."

~~~~

⬆️ God reading my Lucifer smut fics live reaction

I got a lot of explaining to do when I meet Gigachad St. Peter after I leave this corporal realm.

Tag list: @kermitdafroggy, @luc1fersducky, @orbitinglumps, @bigfatbimbo, @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis, @lilzebeth, @bbootyyyshaker9000

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

I saw someone did an Ask about Damien and Danny knowing each other and just keeping in touch just not letting the Batfam know (was it Angel and Demon Brat or something?not sure).

What if we break some hearts,

We have big brother Danny who is dead (the big brother who told him it was okay to call others brother and that blood wasn't everything no matter what grandfather said), Tucker (or Sam or Jazz) just barely escaped Amity's destruction (maybe the GIW went nuclear on the city, maybe a ghost or demon finally got the better of Danny, maybe the portal need to be closed and Danny's life was the price, or maybe the city was already gone and Danny barely got Tucker and Dani out dealers choice) and tearful introduces Damien to his niece (Last last piece of the man he's spent countless lives thinking about, dreaming about and loving since his first life (I love Pharaoh/magically powerful Tucker)).

That got way more detail the more I was writing, haha... Oops 😳😬.

What do you think? Or just whatever pops into your mind. You do you, whatever you put out will be amazing!

There is loud, awful banging coming from the front door.

Or, to be more specific, there is someone banging on the door as hard as they can. At first, Alfred is wondering if he is imagining things. It was a rather quiet night for the bats to be out and about.

There was a storm that had blown through Gotham, driving everyone to take shelter. The howling winds and ran had left even the worst of scum chilled to their bones.

The bats were on their way home. Having called it a night after the third time, the wind had nearly caused two of them to fall while grappling across the city.

When he heard the noise, Alfred had just finished prepping the cave for post-patrol and went up to get everyone some warm clothes. He immediately went for one of the hidden guns around the manor.

Master Bruce was unaware of them, but Alfred had been able to hide the weapons since the lad was five years old.

Crouching low to the ground, he slowly approached one of the windows that overlooked the front door. Whoever had come knocking had somehow gotten past the first three levels of security.

Alfred leaned up only so one of his eyes could look over the window shill, keeping his back to the wall for easy push-off and the shotgun at the ready.

None of their motion detectors, video cameras, or heat vision cameras had detected the two standing figures on his porch. He couldn't see them clearly due to the water splashing against the glass, but it seemed like a man and a child.

Narrowing his eyes, Alfred leaned back down. He quickly pressed the side of his watch in three rapid clicks. At once, the signal that the manor may be compromised went out, alerting his returning family.

Alfred did not wait for a response from them. Instead, he threw himself on the ground, using the crawling technique taught to him by his years in Her Majesty's service to get closer to the door.

He trains the barrels at the wood, ignoring the desperate banging. Usually, he would have opened the door to question who they were, but it was nearly four in the morning, and he could have sworn that the man had been wearing a purple jacket and pantsuit.

In Gotham, that could only mean one thing. If the Joker was here, he would not live to see another sunrise. Alfred was done with that fool harming his family. Master Bruce's wishes be damned.

The only reason he didn't take the shot, for surely the bullets would pass through the aged wood, was that he had seen a more petite figure, too—a child.

He isn't sure who the child is—or if it is even a child—but he can't risk ending the Joker until he is sure the small;ler one is safe. Alfred had seen war many times in his military days; he did not want to force a child to live with them, too.

A few minutes pass when the banging sound starts to slow down, and there is nothing but silence. The wind contuines to howl. The rain continues to spray across the roof, and the lightning and thunder continue to roar.

Alfred feels his fingers strain with the urge to shoot but he keeps still ignoring everything until his watch beeps softly three times. Master Bruce and the children had arrived.

They must not have come through the cave, for he does not hear or sense an approach from anywhere inside the manor. A shadow overpasses him, causing Alfred to snap his gun in that direction until he registers it in the shape of a bat and quickly reaims towards the door.

He keeps himself perfectly still on the ground, even as he starts to hear faint curses, thumps, and a chilling little girl's scream. There is a moment of stillness before two figures fly through the wood—the child and the made-in-purple.

Alfred has a moment of surprise. It seemed the child was a meta before he pulled the trigger, aiming for the man's knees. His aim has not dulled with age, and the bullet sails true. Sadly, the little girl had faster reflections, making the faint glow surrounding her travel down her arm and to the man's body.

Their bodies become intangible as the bullet passes the man easily. Alfred frowns, reloading as he rolls over and swings himself to his feet.

The front door slams open as Master Bruce rushes in, followed by Master Damian. The two crime fighters slam into the strangers, somehow able to touch them when, seconds ago, metal couldn't.

Master Bruce flings the man to the wall, slamming him against one of the tables, while Master Damian has the girl in a painful hold. She thrashes and fails, but she can't get out, and Alfred wonders if her powers are limited.

Alfred trains the gun on the scene, keeping an eye on both Master Bruce and Master Damian at all times in case he needs to cover them.

"Who are you?" Master Bruce hisses, holding the purple suit man up by his collar. At this point, Alfred can see it is not Joker, for the stranger is far too young and has the wrong ethnicity.

"How did you find us?" the man gasps instead of answering, his eyes filled with tears. "The government wasn't supposed to find us here! Wayne was supposed to be safe!"

Alfred doesn't allow his brow to raise, but it's a darn thing. It didn't sound like they were here to do any harm, but one could never be too careful.

"Why are you after Wayne?"

"Don't tell him anything!" The little girl screeches, rainwater mixing with the blood dripping down her face. Master Damian had not been gentle when he slammed her against the ground. He was likely worried about Alfred. "We aren't afraid of you, GIW scum!"

"GIW?" Master Damian repeats. "Who or what are they?"

Both strangers freeze. "You're not with them?"

Master Bruce remains silent, and for one tense moment, Alfred wonders if the other man has passed out from the way he slumps in his old ward's hold.

"You're not with them. Thank the Ancients." The man gasps. He suddenly reaches out, grabbing Master Bruce in a craze of desperation. "My daughter. She's in danger. Please get her to Damian Wayne. Danny said he could protect her. Please... please help us."

His strength fades, and the man finally does fall unconscious, his hold on Master Bruce's slipping as he faints. The little girl screams- it doesn't sound human at all, and the noise likely started Master Damian's reflection, for the boy is quickly slamming onto her back, knocking her out, too.

Alfred finally lowers his weapon as the lightning flashes again, followed by loud thunder. He waits a few minutes before creeping towards Master Bruce.

The other is checking the stranger, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line once they spot that underneath the purple outfit, there are multiple wounds. Burns, cuts, and bruises decorate the dark skin of the stranger.

It's easy to see he escaped from somewhere abusive.

A gutted gasp from Master Damian has them swinging around, Alfred with his gun raised and Master Bruce with one of his batarangs at the ready. Instead of seeing the youngest being attacked, they find Damian staring in horror at the amulet he is holding.

The chain is still around the girl's neck as she was flipped onto her back- likely the lad was also checking her for wounds. Alfred can't see much but he can tell she may be just as wounded as the man.

"What is it, Robin" Master Bruce growls.

There is silence from the Katana user until one single tear rolls down from underneath the boy's mask over his cheek. He looks up at them with the most devastated expression Alfred has ever seen as he whispers.

"She bares my older brother's mark. Father, I think she's family."

"What, brother?" Master Bruce asks. "You never mentioned a brother before."

"He died.....years ago, but if Todd returned, then my brother...I left my kind-hearted brother in my Grandfather's grasp. I left him..."

The lighting flashes behind Master Damian's form, highlighting the devastation on his expression, and Alfred is filled with confusion, horror, and worry faster than the thunder can catch up.

Master Bruce's face loses all emotion- the coping mechanism Alfred had seen him use since the day he was found in that alley by the cold bodies- and growls. "To the cave. I want answers."

[lightsoutletsgo]

I’m such an angst girly omg how about lando’s phone not working and reader gets sad he’s not replying or answering her calls for a few days🤨

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, allusions to a panic attack, reader is v emotional, lando is an idiot ahhhh tysm for sending this in! It was fun to write but ofc I had to make it fluffy to end bc I didn't wanna make myself too sad happy reading! love mimi 🤍

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Long distance relationships were hard, you knew that before you’d even started dating Lando. You’d heard all of the stories before but like the many innocent others who had yet to experience their partner being on the other side of the world, you were determined that everything would be okay. 

Now, as you thought back to how naive you’d been, you scoffed, how could you have thought it would be so simple? If you weren’t battling with time zones, you were battling to find free time, and if you found free time, it was never quiet and peaceful and it never lasted more than a few minutes. You knew you should have been satisfied with those snatched moments you did get, but you missed your boyfriend. 

You missed him even more when he got another podium and you weren’t there to celebrate with him. You’d stayed up until stupid o’clock to watch the race live and you’d cheered and jumped as your boyfriend performed overtake after overtake to move up the grid to claim second place. You knew that once he had done his post-race interviews and meetings he would call you. You sighed as once more Lando’s contact picture flashed up with ‘facetime unavailable’. You’d scheduled this call the night before but he was only a few minutes late. You shook your head as you took a deep breath, he was probably just finishing up in meetings. Half an hour went by and your stomach twisted with worry as you still hadn’t heard from him. You checked your phone but there were no new notifications - not from him at least anyway. 

You curled up on the couch, noticing Lando’s hoodie still resting over the arm of the couch. Pulling it towards you, you nuzzled your face into it and inhaled, the smell of his cologne washing over you. You felt tears well up in your eyes. No matter how busy or tired he was, he had never once missed your call. You grew angry, not with Lando, never with Lando, but just at the situation. 

You huffed and grabbed your phone once more, deciding to doom scroll through instagram until Lando finally called. You noticed that a few people had posted new stories and so you pressed on the first one, absentmindedly tapping your screen until you paused, sitting up quickly as you realised the story you were looking at was Max Fewtrell’s. He’d posted a video in the club at a post-race party. You normally wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, but you could have sworn in the back corner of the dimly-lit club video was a figure that looked suspiciously like Lando. Going back to the start of his story and scrolling through again you realised it was Lando, wearing the black shirt you’d given him for his birthday the previous year. 

Turns out you could be mad at Lando. Something uncomfortable and hot flashed in your stomach as nausea hit you. Anger curled its way up your spine and through your chest, tightening around your lungs and making it hard to breathe. He was out at a club? And that’s why he hadn’t called you? You growled and glared at your screen, thumbs jabbing into the keyboard as you furiously typed a message to Max. He was online, you noted, as you hit ‘send’ and waited for him to read it. You barely had to wait five minutes before Max was apologising profusely and sending you a long paragraph about how he was sure Lando had texted you and would be letting him know straight away. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on the couch next to you with a ‘hmmph’. You sat in silence for a while, your emotions slowly welling up as tears gathered on your lash line. Was this how your relationship was going to end? Long nights alone while Lando partied it up on the other side of the world? Surrounded by scores of choices of pretty women and an endless supply of alcohol? You couldn’t help the way you sobbed as you grabbed his hoodie once more, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were crying so hard you almost didn’t hear the way your phone vibrated on the cushion. You gasped for air as you picked it up and turned it over, Max’s name flashing on the screen. You snatched your phone up and pressed the green button to accept, not even registering that it was a facetime call and he was going to see you crying.

You inhaled sharply as it was Lando’s worried face that appeared on the screen, he looked panicked and you could hear the music thumping in the background although slightly muffled. Despite the fluorescent lights he was standing under, he still looked good, “Baby? Oh my god…” He took in your tear stained cheeks and the way your eyes were red. He noted your sniffling noises and the way your bottom lip trembled, “Love I’m so so sorry!” You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes, trying to not let him see the next wave of tears that were threatening to fall, “Sure.” He sighed, “Honey, I promise you, I didn't mean it. I did text you! I didn’t realise it didn’t go through because I was in the post-race meeting!” “I wanted to celebrate your win with you!” Lando gently shushed you as he saw your chest heave, your breathing quickening once more, “Baby, baby, shh sh sh it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here.” He looked off screen for a moment to a person you assumed to be Max before the music got louder again and then quiet, as if Max had left Lando alone. You followed along with his breathing as he over exaggerated for you to copy.

“Love I promise you it was just an accident okay? I texted you to ask if you were ready to call but when there was no reply I assumed you’d fallen asleep so then I texted you to ask if you could be at the airport for 4am…” He winced, “I decided to fly home early and have a few days with you before the next race.” You melted back against the couch, hugging his hoodie to your chest as you tucked your knees up under your chin and rested your phone there, “4am?” You sniffled with a giggle, “Is that my hoodie?” He said, doing his best to distract you and you let out a proper giggle this time, “Lando! 4am is so early!” He laughed, relieved to see you feeling better, “I figured we could go for a super early breakfast and then go home and fall asleep together, in our bed, in our apartment which is my favourite place to be, with my love. Your bottom lip wobbled once more, “You promise?” He nodded to assure you, “I promise.” You inhaled deeply and let out an exhale with a sigh, “I can’t wait to see you,” your thumb gently rubbed across his cheek even through the screen. “I can’t wait to see you either love, can’t wait to be home”

[theundercoversquid]

All night

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles is worried about his car and you

Warnings: Fluff!

A/n: yes I know that it doesn’t work like this! But humour me.

A/N2: This may or may not have been sat in my drafts since Feb 24 2022...

Masterlist

Charles was an idiot. That much everybody could agree on. A lovely idiot. But an idiot nonetheless.

"I'm so sorry." Charles apologised again. His voice was small and sheepish as he looked at your unimpressed face. His arms were resting on the tail of his car.

"I'm not angry at you." You assured him. Your hands were on your hips as you stared at his car.

"Do you think you will be done in time?" Charles asked. His voice small and worried.

"I will." You assured him your voice filled with confidence you didn't feel. But Charles didn't need to know that.

"Really?" Charles asked. His face lit up like a kid on Christmas. And that face was the reason you would be pulling an all-nighter on the off chance it would let you fix his car in time.

"Really." You nodded, determination filling you. "But you should probably go back to the hotel.

"I'll wait for you," Charles told you.

"No, you won't." You told him. "You need to have a good night's sleep for when you race tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Charles asked you unsurely.

"Of course." You assured him. "Now, the sooner you go, the sooner I can get started, and the sooner I can be finished."

"Thank you so much," Charles grinned. Kissing you on the cheek before he whizzed out to tell everybody he could race.

Taking a deep breath, you put your headphones on. Putting your favourite playlist on shuffle, you got to work.

Charles bounded into the Ferrari garage. He hadn't seen you since last night when you promised him you could fix his car.

Charles hadn't seen you at breakfast, so he just assumed that you had headed in early.

But as Charles walked in, he could see his Ferrari looking brand new. And you were nowhere to be seen.

Charles spotted a post-it note stuck to the car, taking a tentative step forward. Gently pulling it off, Charles recognised your handwriting.

'All done! She's ready for your race x.' Charles read. Grinning to himself, he picked the note and searched for you.

But Charles couldn't find you anywhere. And no one had seen you. However, they were singing your praises for fixing his car. Frederic Vasseur had even gone to sing your praises to the rest of the world. Happily dropping the bombshell that Charles would still be racing, much to everybody else’s dismay.

Eventually, Charles had to give up on his search for you and retreated to his driver's room.

Opening the door, Charles swung his bag around to throw it on the sofa. Thankfully he caught himself in time as he spotted your prone figure curled up on his sofa.

Dropping his bag to the floor, Charles pulled his hoodie out. Laying it over your asleep body, he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. Murmuring a quiet thank you.

Charles then left the room to warn everybody where you were. And unsurprisingly, no one suggested waking you up. After all that you had done, people didn't mind. After looking at the timings of some of the data logs, they were glad you were catching up on some sleep.

When Charles told Vasseur, all he did was shrug. Say that you probably needed it, and he would send you back to the hotel to sleep in a proper bed when you woke up.

And you did emerge not five minutes later. The hustle and bustle of the Ferrari garage coming to life, waking you up.

When you appeared at the entrance to the Ferrari garage, everybody burst into applause. You just looked slightly startled. Your hair slightly messed up from sleep and Charles's hoodie dwarfing you.

"Am I late?" You asked, horrified. "I could have sworn I only closed my eyes for five minutes."

"Your not late, mon amour," Charles assured you as he sidled up to you. "We are cheering you on for fixing my car."

"That was nothing," you waved them off. Embarrassed as your cheeks went a shade of red to envy the car you had given your night up for.

"It's not nothing," Charles told you. "It's everything. Because of you, I can compete in the grand prix."

"He's right," Vasseur told you from where he had appeared. "Now go back to the hotel and sleep."

"Yes, sir." You nodded to Vasseur. Knowing better the to argue. Especially as you could feel a yawn clawing its way up your throat.

Turning, you retreated to grab your stuff from Charles's driver's room.

"Sorry for falling asleep in your driver's room." You apologised.

"Don't worry, mon amour." Charles assured you. "I'm sure you needed the sleep." Gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear Charles smiled down at you. "Thank you so much for fixing my car," Charles said. His voice was a reverent whisper as he placed a feather-light kiss on your cheek. "Now go back to your hotel and get some sleep. Charles ordered gently.

Nodding, you bashfully smiled up at him before retreating out of the garage once again, with everybody cheering you and congratulating you as you left.

[hispg]

Comfort

Pairings: R4! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your husband is glad that he has you, just like he's glad to have his little family.

Wc:4.8k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, mentions of ptsd, mentions of birth and pregnancy, soft sex(nothing too kinky), oral sex(f receiving), just Leon being a sweetheart.

An:So, this week has been very busy for me. As I've been saying in my last few posts, university has been taking up a lot of my time, as well as my mental health being pretty messed up. I didn't manage to finish the chapter of 'Between Love and Vows' so I probably won't post anything new until next week. In compensation, I'll post another one of my drafts (smut), I'll make a poll so you guys can choose. And next week I'll post two new chapters of the series! Thanks for your love and understanding <3 If I haven't answered your comment, ask or request, don't worry, I will eventually🫶🫶

MDNI

Sleepless nights, the nightmares that kept tormenting him, his mind that was in turmoil all the time. Leon was used to all this, he had already realized that these were sensations he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

His trauma, ptsd that haunted him every day. Things he had seen and heard, all so fresh in his memory, so vivid. Things that no matter how hard he tried to forget, he couldn't. As if it were a mark stamped on his soul.

But he coped, as he always does with everything in life. Little by little, he understood how to deal with panic attacks, how to calm down even when he was about to collapse. He learned all this, but that didn't make things any less worse than they were.

Although he thought he had everything under control, that it wouldn't affect him as much as before, he was wrong.

His last mission in Spain proved it, he went from hell to heaven to save the president's daughter. Everything worked out in the end, but that doesn't erase what he experienced or saw.

Many times he could have sworn that if it hadn't been for you, he would have gone mad a long time ago. Even if you weren't able to end the pain he felt, you were there to be the light at the end of the tunnel for him, the clarity to his own insanity.

All this because every time he returned from a mission, he came home first, not caring if he was all dirty with mud and dirt, even blood. His safe haven was here, with you.

That was the only reason he always came home, no matter how difficult things might be for him. You were what he needed, you were the person who healed all his wounds, and he couldn't be more grateful.

If it had been anyone else, he would have left you by now, but you understood him. You listened to him even if he didn't make any sense, you were still there.

Your love was the remedy for all his problems.

And if he was being honest, it was the reason he woke up every day, the only reason he had a place to call home. You, simply you.

And that night, he found himself on another one of those nights when he couldn't sleep, and there he was, pacing around the house, finding something to occupy his mind.

It had been two weeks since he had returned from his mission in Spain, and he was still terrified by everything that had happened, even though he was safe and sound in the comfort of his own home.

He woke up from a nightmare, yet another one. And in order not to wake you too, he preferred to get out of bed. You were already tired enough to have to deal with him in the wee hours of the morning.

He was so careful with you, even though you had told him several times that it was okay for him to wake you up if he needed to. But he was stubborn enough to say no.

As he made some tea, just to see if it would calm his nerves, he watched the rain falling outside, the gentle drips hitting the window.

In that silence he began to have some sweet memories, it always helped to calm him down a little. One of those memories was when he asked you to marry him, God, he still remembers the nervousness that ran through his whole body. The trembling hands that held the box with the ring, the words that he had rehearsed so much and still came out messy. He was so afraid of being told no, but his heart calmed down when you smiled and threw yourself into his arms, saying yes again and again, making his heart melt each time.

That night he fell even more in love with you, if that were possible.

When you started living together, every time he came home he was greeted with a hug, you welcomed him with love and affection. He felt his cold exterior crumble at the same moment, words couldn't describe how much he liked it. Every little gesture that came from you, no matter what, he always took it to heart and considered it with all his soul.

He still vividly remembered a conversation he had with you as soon as you moved in together. It never failed to crack a smile.

"Darling, did you let something burn?" Leon asks as he feeds himself, looking around the kitchen.

You look at him with a laugh, seeing that he arrived so tired that he didn't even realize he was still in his work clothes. And then you answer, "No, why do you ask?"

"Nothing, it's just that something stinks." He says quietly, focused on finishing his food.

You can't help yourself and a giggle escapes your lips, "You haven't showered yet, sweetheart."

"Oh..." He mumbles, looking down at his state.

He was so entertained that he only noticed a baby crying from one of the bedrooms, it was you guys son.

He didn't hesitate to go into the baby's room, watching the little one whimpering in his crib, even though he was warm and comfortable in his blankets, the little boy was still bothered by something.

Leon imagined that he wasn't hungry, since you had fed him not long ago. Then he thought it might be his diaper that was dirty, which he soon confirmed.

So the baby was in his arms the next second, he put the little boy on the changing table and changed him properly, not forgetting a single detail, from carefully wiping him down with a wet wipe, to the ointment he had to apply to prevent diaper rash.

He checked the diaper to make sure it was fastened properly. Once he'd checked everything, he rocked the baby in his arms until the little one fell asleep again.

He even sang a lullaby, one of the little boy's favorites. He still thought it sounded ridiculous, but he didn't care as long as it soothed the baby.

Every time he looked at the little one's face, he couldn't hold back the loving smile that always appeared on his lips. It was still hard to believe that he had his own little family.

It's still clear in his memory when you announced that you were pregnant, the uncertainty and fear that consumed him. The anguish he felt, the apprehension of being a bad father. As well as the shock he felt when he received the news, since it wasn't something either of you were expecting. Not least because you had just started living together, so it was a lot all at once. But nothing that shook the relationship, quite the opposite.

But every time he saw you laugh, every time you came home with a little baby thing, whether it was clothes, shoes or even a toy. He couldn't contain his joy at the thought that he was going to be a father, that he was going to have a child.

It wasn't long before he started buying lots and lots of things for the baby, rattles, diapers, baby cloths, various types of educational toys, plush toys and everything else.

In a matter of weeks, the spare room in the house was full and ready to receive the baby, even if you weren't that far along in your pregnancy.

Not only did he become even more protective, the kind that wouldn't even let you lift a thing, but he accompanied you throughout your pregnancy. From start to finish. Even though he sometimes had to leave for work, he never failed to call you, even if it was late at night.

He always made video calls to see how you were doing, even talking to the baby in your belly on the phone. Even if they were quick calls, he still made sure they happened.

It was obvious that he wanted to be there for you, and he made it clear whenever he could, because he did everything for you, simply everything. Craves? He'd arrange anything you wanted. Going out late at night to buy a slice of cake in a particular flavor? Well, he was there. He would go to the end of the earth to find whatever you wanted.

When you were uncomfortable he was there, always whispering kind things to you, always trying to calm you down and relax in his embrace, trying to give you all the security you could have. He still remembers when your water broke, you were so calm, and he was about to have a heart attack.

Yet he was with you the whole way, holding your hand as you went into labor.

But all his worry went away as soon as he heard the baby's cry, the little being that had just come out of you. He still remembers the unconditional love he felt as soon as he laid eyes on the little one, as soon as he saw you cradling the boy in your arms, crying with exhaustion and joy. Just as he was crying as much as the baby, he felt so happy that he couldn't imagine being anywhere else but there with you and your bundle of joy.

"What are we going to call him?" Leon asked through tears, wiping away his own with the back of his hand.

"I don't know, sweetheart, we agreed that if it was a boy you'd choose." You say in a whisper, giving him a small smile. Rocking the newborn in your arms.

"No, I'd rather you chose." He says softly, running his fingers through the baby's thin golden strands, which by the way had the same hair as his father.

"Leon-," he doesn't let you finish, giving you a kiss on the lips. Letting his forehead rest on yours, looking at you with tear-filled eyes and a sweet smile.

"You've already given me one of the greatest joys of my life. Nothing could be fairer than for you to choose any name you like." Kind words that made your heart melt, and you just nodded.

At that moment he realized that there was no better place in the world. That there was nowhere else he wanted to be, all he needed was you.

While he was lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that the little one had already fallen asleep, making cooing noises, his mouth hanging open while he slept peacefully. Even the way he slept was like Leon's, it was funny to see how similar the two of them were.

Then he slowly placed the little one in his crib, tucking him into the covers and making sure he was warm and comfortable for the rest of the night.

He stayed for a few more minutes, humming some more until he was sure the boy wouldn't wake up too soon.

After that he moved into the kitchen, where he found you awake, which was enough to make him wrinkle his eyebrows.

"Love?" He asks softly, moving towards you.

You answer him with a smile, giving him a hug, "You should have called me."

He shakes his head, kissing the top of your head, "I didn't have to."

You pout, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder.

"Here, I've made your tea. I've also put out a slice of cake for you." You murmur with a smile, pointing to the plate on the table.

He chuckles, holding your face and kissing the tip of your nose.

"You're amazing." He whispers before walking over to the table and sitting down, taking a sip of tea and eating the cake, which, by the way, was his favorite flavor.

So you sat next to him, waiting for him to finish eating silently.

"Your food is fucking good." Leon says, taking a bite of his cake and smiling at you.

You couldn't help but giggle, knowing that even if you burned the food, he'd eat it and say it was good.

"No, you're just being nice." You say softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He laughed genuinely, entwining his fingers with yours. Then he lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

You were always amazed by his loving gestures, which he always made towards you. And so the two of you remained until he had finished eating, rubbing his thumb against your hand to give it a gentle caress.

When he had finished, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking at you with a smile. But you couldn't help noticing the dark circles under his eyes, just as he still had a few scratches and bruises all over his body. As well as the scars, some new, some old. All a mark of his profession.

"Did you have another nightmare?" you ask, running your fingers along his cheekbones, smiling softly.

He nodded with a tired sigh, leaning into your touch, "No big deal."

You knew that he always hid these things from you, not least because it took time for him to feel comfortable sharing the events of his mission with you.

"You can tell me, smartass." You said smiling, rubbing your nose against his, letting his hand rest on the small of your back.

His lips curved into a small smile, just as his eyes met yours. And that was enough to make you blush slightly, no matter how long you'd been together, he always had that effect on you.

The rain began to fall harder outside, enough to make you both look out of the window. The rain left a comfortable atmosphere in the kitchen, just the two of you sharing the warmth of your bodies, making that cold night a little warmer.

You picked up the dishes and took them to the sink, taking the opportunity to wash them right away. And it wasn't long before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, just as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his warm breath beating against you.

"I swear to God I love the smell of your lotion." He purrs, rubbing his nose against your neck, hugging you tightly.

You smiled, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. Even if it was late at night, those moments were so precious to you both. A little intimacy was always nice.

But even with all the affection coming from him, you could feel how tense his muscles were, how his breathing wasn't very regulated. Every time he had these nightmares, they took a while to wear off, and he was still scared for a good few hours.

You then turned to him, held his face in your hands and looked at him seriously, "You should have called me."

He knew how this conversation would go. But to be honest, he wasn't paying attention to your speech, only to the way your lips moved as you spoke, your sweet voice entering his ears. Even if it was you scolding him.

All he could do was give you a silly little smile, stroking your cheeks with his thumb. No matter how much you talked, he would forget the next day. He just didn't want to worry you with his work matters.

Gently he put his index finger to your lips, whispering, "Why don't you hush, darling?"

You widened your eyes, preparing to protest, but he interrupted you, giving you a loving kiss. The kiss was full of affection and tenderness, just as he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist once again, gluing your body to his.

Without giving you time to say another word, he carried you in his arms, taking you to your room like a princess, as if you weighed nothing, he did it with the purest ease.

His grip was firm, as if he didn't want to let you go, he wanted to have you there, in his arms.

Your room was dark, lit only by the faint light of the moon, while the rain continued to fall outside. It wasn't long before he laid you down on the mattress, letting you sink into the soft surface.

The door locked, the baby asleep, just the two of you in that room. The perfect moment for what was about to happen.

No matter how many times Leon looked at you, he always lost his breath, his breath caught in his throat.

You were so beautiful, so perfect, he didn't know how he had been so lucky to have found someone like you, and he couldn't thank you enough for that.

His hands began to move slowly up your thigh, callused fingers caressing the soft skin, letting his hand wander over the flesh, touching you with all the passion he had to offer. And he would do this for the rest of your life.

His mouth finding your neck, his hot breath making you gasp, letting him do whatever he wanted with you.

Soon the wet kisses began, leaving his lips hovering over the weak spots that he knew, he knew exactly where to touch, because he knew well that every touch of his made your body shiver with desire.

"You're beautiful." He whispers, giving your thigh a light squeeze, feeling the soft fabric of your nightgown on the back of his hand.

You give a sly smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

He soon understands what you want, and he gives it to you right away. A tender, passionate kiss, gently capturing your lips.

You don't know how, but he always manages to show his devotion to you with every kiss, every touch, every night of love. He makes it seem like the first time, always showing you how much he loves you.

His fingers keep tracing your thigh, feeling how warm your body gets from his touch. Your body reacting under his, squirming and shivering, an incentive for him.

When he pulls away from you a little, just to stop the kiss. He nibbles your lip, lifts your leg and grabs the back of your thigh.

Making a point of giving you wet kisses all over your neck, shoulders, collar bone, all to hear the sweet sounds that escaped your lips every time, the way you begged softly for him to continue.

"Oh, fuck Leon..." You whimpered, watching his fingers purposely wrap around the strap of your panties, he was taking his time.

As he always did, because he wanted to make sure he gave you all the affection he could give.

As soon as their trail of kisses went down to your chest, he spared no effort in giving little kisses to your nipples, which were already hard, crying out for any kind of touch and attention.

It was more than enough for you to let out several moans and low squeaks, letting your hands nestle in his golden strands, feeling the softness they contained.

Both his hands slid under your nightgown, and before long his fingers were playing with the waist line of your panties, fingering and stretching, all the while keeping an eye on your every reaction.

The look he had in store for you was yours alone, he had never looked at anyone else like that. Nor would he ever, you were the only one capable of bringing it out of him. The only one.

Just as you never tired of looking into those gentle blue eyes, similar to the color of the sky, or even the ocean. You lost your breath every time.

And there he went, slowly dropping wet kisses over the thin fabric of your nightgown, feeling your body tremble beneath his, just as he made a point of running his fingers over the wet surface of your panties, only to give a smug smile, knowing that he could get you soaking wet for so little.

As soon as he reached your navel, he lifted your nightgown completely, exposing your lower body, which was enough for him to let out a low noise, excited by the image in front of him. Which only fueled his cock to throb even more under his pants.

"I wonder what I did to make you like this." Leon said with a sly, mischievous smile, sliding his index finger down your slit.

Did he know the answer? Of course he did. But it was nicer to hear it from your mouth, your sweet voice echoing through the room.

"You know, you just need to touch me..." You said with a pout, looking at him with piteous eyes, a look he already knew well. And yet it broke his smile every time.

"Because of me?" He purrs, pushing his fingertips against your covered pussy, teasing you as far as he can.

You whimper, spreading your legs as if it were an automatic reaction from your body. Understanding the signal, he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the bed, taking off your panties and sliding them down your legs, soon the garment was lying in a corner of the room.

You were there, completely exposed to him, legs dangling from his shoulders, clit throbbing and begging him to do something.

It felt like magic, every time he touched you he was able to drive you crazy with the smallest things. You often got wet just watching him, seeing the way the muscles in his arms flexed every time he held your legs tighter.

Or the way he always looked at you throughout the process, as he positioned his face close to your center, biting and licking your inner thigh, making sure to leave soft marks all over the area. He loved looking at the love bites the next day, not least because you looked beautiful with each one.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He asked in a whisper, which sounded more like a question to himself. Especially because he didn't even need to hear the answer.

You were about to answer, but your mind turned to crumbs as soon as he started planting wet, caressing kisses in your folds, letting his tongue linger in certain spots.

His wet muscle slid into your wet pussy, making you arch your body and tremble under him. The tip of his tongue brushed against your clit, swirling around your sensitive part, enough for you to roll your eyes and moan a little louder.

"That's so good, so good..." You mumble, biting your lower lip to hold back your moans.

Every time he eat you out, he didn't hold back with the noises he made, he didn't even care about the slurping noises he made, or the way he did it in a completely sloppy way.

Not least because he never wasted any time, it wasn't long before he was fucking you with his tongue. Moving in and out, hitting all your sweet spots.

It didn't take long for you to be a mess, moaning and whimpering, your sounds echoing around the room. Your hands nestled in his hair, pushing his head against you, letting him get buried in your thighs.

Despite this, you couldn't help but crave his cock, a need to have it inside you, you needed him fucking you.

"Leon..." You called out, rolling your hips against his mouth, you could already feel your orgasm approaching.

He smiled sideways, kissing all over your intimate area, making a point of running his tongue over it in the process. The way he did this so masterfully left no doubt that he knew exactly what to do to bring you to the edge, he knew exactly.

As soon as he started tongue-fucking you one more time, it was enough for you to come apart in his mouth, gushing out all your climax. You could feel your body hot and bothered, your mind confused and without any other thoughts. It was surreal the way your orgasms with him were always that intense.

Just as he spared no expense in giving you sloppy, wet kisses on your wet folds, as if he were smoothing the area, taking the opportunity to clean up the mess that was between your legs. Even though he was about to make another one.

"It tastes fucking good, love." He purrs, licking his lips and lifting his head.

Having the beautiful image of you, with your legs spread, sweaty body, chest rising and falling. The way your eyelids were closed and your lips were open was more than enough to send a wave of electricity to his cock. Which, by the way, was already leaking pre-cum, the wet spot on his sweatpants was already clearly visible.

He wasted no time in removing his pants and underwear, letting his cock pop out. Which was a divine sign for you, seeing every inch of his shapely body, the way he was hard as a rock.

His cock resting in his palm, as he gave it a few small pumps, watching the precum drip down a little. Despite this, his eyes were focused on you, the way you bit your lip and stared at him.

"Please?" You ask in a whisper, spreading your legs even wider for him.

In response, he gives you a puffy smile, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, his sticky liquid pooling with your own juices.

You whimper and pout to get him in at once. As if on command, he obeyed, lifting your legs over his shoulder and fitting himself into you. Hissing once he was all the way in, the way your walls clenched around him was enough to elicit a grunt from him.

"So fucking eager..." He whispers in your ear, taking the opportunity to nibble on it. Making you gasp easily.

"Oh-Oh, so deep!" You moan, your nails sinking into the muscles of his back, a reaction he loved every time.

You can't say how, but he thrust into you in such a sensual way, his hips rolling with a dexterity you couldn't even describe in words. It was calm, sexy, who knows how you could describe it.

His eyes never left yours, he could reach all your weak points, all the places where he made you roll your eyes and curl your toes.

At that point, he didn't even try to understand you. Not least because you could only mumble half-words, whimpers or moans, and he couldn't have been prouder to leave you in that state. Your mind so foolish as he fucked you numb.

"Are you going to come already, love?" He asks softly, kissing your cheeks and pulling you even closer.

"Mhmhm." You hum and nod, feeling your walls tighten around him. Just like the feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you were beginning to feel.

He chuckled, speeding up his thrusts, making an even louder sound of skin hitting skin. He wouldn't be long either, he'd probably come right after you.

And there you went the moment he started making circles with his thumb on your clit, you're sure you went to heaven at the same moment.

Your lips parted only for you to let out a silent scream, a noise that came from deep in your throat. He was quick to pull you into a hot, thirsty kiss, moving at a much faster speed than before.

He wanted to get there now.

In and out he went, feeling his cock throb with each jerk of his hips. On the last thrust he came, thrusting deep, spilling all his seed into you, as deep as he could.

He let out a grunt through your lips, holding your sides tightly.

By the end you were panting, covered in a thin layer of sweat. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead on yours, giving a silly, tired smile.

"Sore?" He murmurs under his breath, trailing kisses down your cheek.

"Maybe a little." You whisper, closing your eyes and sinking into the mattress.

He then gets off you and places you properly on the bed, rolling you under the covers, and then doing the same. He hugs you from behind and cuddles you, giving you massages in the places he knew would be sore. He loved worshiping your body, and you couldn't complain.

"I love you." He says, full of love and tenderness.

"I love you too." You return, kissing his hand.

You fell asleep a few minutes later, and he watched you sleep as always, giving you kisses and caresses from time to time.

He loved you so much he couldn't explain it, you were his comfort. Everything he needed most. You and your son were his adored little family.

And the way he loved you, he knew that you would be the death of him.

Oh God, how he loves you.

[sughuru]

you, me, and the sky above

- gojo satoru x reader

In the quiet stillness of the night, you find yourself waking to an empty bed, wondering where Satoru disappeared to. As you search for him throughout your shared home, you discover him staring into the dark sky, his eyes revealing the weariness from a challenging mission. 

genres/warnings: angsty, fluff, hurt/comfort

notes: hello hello this is my first post on this acc so if you'd like to read more of my work, come check out my other works! my first language isn't english so don't mind the grammatical errors, sorry! :') anyways i love satoru sm u dont understand

home | masterlist

—

You woke up to the bed being empty and cold. Strange, you could’ve sworn Satoru went to bed with you last night. You grabbed your phone to check the time, reading 3:02 AM. It's barely three; where did he go? You got on your feet and slowly dragged yourself out of the bedroom to look for the man. 

“Babe?’ you called out, flicking the light switch on in the bathroom, assuming he went to the toilet but there was no one. Then to the kitchen it was, maybe he needed a cup of water–But that wouldn’t make sense; he always has a cup of water by the bed in case either of you wakes up feeling thirsty. Perhaps he went out for a run, or was it an emergency mission; still, he would’ve told you. Just when you were about to give up, you noticed him.

Satoru, your boyfriend, staring out into the dark sky. What was he searching for? Upon closer inspection, you noticed the dark circles around his eyes, his eyes were slightly puffy, his blindfold dangling loosely around his bare neck.

Surprisingly, he didn’t sense your presence, he always managed to notice you but tonight, his thoughts seem to be elsewhere.

"Satoru," you said softly, approaching him cautiously. The moonlight highlighted the contours of his face, and you could see the weariness etched into his expression. You knew about how exhausting the mission was yesterday, even his facade wasn’t strong enough to fool you. Yet, you didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset him any further.

"Is everything okay?" you asked, your concern evident in your voice. Satoru turned to you, and for a moment, it seemed like he hadn't expected anyone to notice his silent contemplation. His eyes, usually vibrant with energy, now carried the weight of unspoken burdens.

Satoru hums in response, a quiet one. Usually, he would whine about how the higher-ups made him do such a tough mission or how he has to work overtime, missing out on spending time with you. Tonight, he just stayed silent.

"I didn't mean to worry you," he said, his voice carrying a weight you hadn't heard before. "I’m sorry.” he dryly laughed, plastering a smile on his face, except, that smile didn’t reach his eyes. You frowned, realizing that he wasn’t letting his guard down anytime soon.

"Don’t," you responded gently, your hand resting on his.

Satoru took a deep breath, his gaze shifting away for a moment before returning to meet yours. “I just... I needed a moment,” he admitted, his voice soft but laden with sincerity. “The mission, it hit me harder than I thought.”

For a moment, Satoru's shoulders relaxed a fraction, as if the weight he carried had found a temporary respite. "The mission...it took a toll on me more that it should have, I-”

You squeezed his hand, offering a silent reassurance. "You don't have to go into details if you're not ready. But know that I'm here to listen whenever you're ready to share."

The two shared a moment of peaceful silence.

You prompted gently, "Is that why you're awake?" 

Satoru shook his head, his gaze momentarily dropping. "Bad dream," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice belying his usual confidence.

Your heart sank at the revelation. "Satoru-" you whispered, tightening your grip on his hand. 

Satoru sighed, and a playful glint entered his eyes. "What happened to 'you don't have to go into details'?" he asked, a lighthearted tone replacing the previous heaviness in his voice.

You couldn't help but smile at the sudden change in atmosphere. "Well, you know me," you replied, matching his playful tone, "I can’t help it, I’m nosy.” she pouts

Satoru chuckled as he pulled her into his arms tightly, “come here, you’ll get cold.” He looked up at the stars again, admiring them. You couldn’t help but admire him. His blue eyes, they always shone brightly even in the darkest of nights.

"Come on," you said gently, offering a reassuring smile. "Let's head back inside. We can talk more if you want, or we can just sit in silence. Whatever you need."

Satoru's grip on the balcony’s railing loosened, and he followed you back into the warmth of the indoors. As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't help but hope that the darkness outside wouldn't linger within him for much longer.

“I love you, you know that?” he smiled, this time, reaching his eyes. You smiled back, “I love you too.” 

Satoru’s blue eyes that were dulled moments ago, now sparkled with hope and love once again. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss against his forehead, a promise of warmth and solidarity.

[whxre-bxby]

Miles, Mansk, Lyle - meeting and pregnancy headcanons

Requested by anonymous

(omg all 3 of them in one shot) ... (the gif)

Sup bitches, here we go again with our 3 big boy hotties. I have 7 assignments due tomorrow and my nose is bleeding, but let’s do this. 

ALSO TYSM FOR 300 FOLLOWERS! I posted my first Quaritch smut on the 18th of January and I had like 20 followers. IT HASN’T EVEN BEEN A MONTH AND I AM AT 300?! WHAT? You’re all angels, thank you so much. I love providing you guys with filth and imagines ad I plan on continuing to do so in the future <3

Warnings: Fluff, pregnancy (if that’s a warning), hinting to smut (nothing explicit) maybe some bad language

Characters are all recom and Na’vi! Y/n is recom-Na’vi too. 

Word count: 4752

Miles:

Before both of you woke up in your new bodies, you worked closely with Miles as a human. You were a pilot and a part of his squad. Nothing romantic happened before, other than teasing and flirtatious comments. But back then, you thought it was just who he was. 

When you woke up, he was there by the side of your table, helping you sit upright and keep balance while the people ran a few reflex tests on your new body. 

The teasing escalated to a type of sexual tension between both of you, to the point where neither of you could be in the same room without feeling excited and attracted to the other. 

One day, Miles decided to deal with the feelings because he was sure you felt the same. He visited your room and boldly asked you out as if it were a completely normal day-to-day thing. You on the other hand were freaking out and almost jumped into his arms.

What I didn’t know was that he had spent the last hour or two trying to figure out a good way to ask you out and make it seem effortless. The man was nervous to blow his shot with you because he realised that he became really attached to you. The realisation hit him when you and the team went on a mission and were attacked by a few predatory animals. One jumped at you and you hurt your arm.

Miles saw what happened and absolutely lost it. He was ready to kill anything that got close to you and managed to fight off the pack of creatures alone. The recom-team was too shocked by his sudden outburst to interfere. 

From then on, he demands you walk right next to him. 

After that incident, he knew it was getting obvious and out of hand, so as I said, he asked you out. 

It wasn’t like a “Hey, I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me sometime.”

He knocked on the door, hands resting on his belt, pretending not to be fazed by seeing you in pyjamas. He didn’t even greet me. 

“I’ll cut straight to the chase Y/N. I know you want me, cupcake, so let’s do something about it.” he said, walking towards me so that he backed me up away from the door and thereby entered my room. 

We can all imagine what happened after that. Anyway, so after a few mind-blowingly good hookup sessions, I was the first to confess that I had feelings for him. That I wanted to have more with Quaritch than just sex. He was shocked and it made me think he didn’t agree with that, but he was overjoyed with what I had said and the love confessions led to more sex. This time though, to prove our love for each other, we connected our tsaheylu’s and bonded for the first time.

Quaritch and I were then officially dating and I became pregnant after that night. 

I didn’t know whether that’s what he wanted, but biologically, that is the product of mating. So he should probably already know. 

Anyway, I told Miles I was pregnant and the man immediately got soft. Like I mean his eyes sparkled, his ears perked up and then drooped to the sides and his tail stilled. 

I could have sworn I saw a few tears form in his eyes. Miles would stand up and embrace you, holding you close to him while telling you how happy he was and how much he loved you. Of course, he would then hold your tummy, even if there was no visible bump yet. It amazed him that his child was growing in there. 

From then on, he would become even more protective of you. No more dangerous missions or physically exhausting exercises. 

He would bring you things, even if they were something tiny you missed. He would make your comfort and needs his number one priority. 

If you craved some food, he would fetch it. Miles even started to cook for you, wearing an apron and cooking meals in pans and pots. He looked like a real male wife and it made you love him so much more. 

Once the bump started growing he would caress and hold it every night. Carefully he would lean his ear against it until one day he could finally hear the baby’s heartbeat. 

He wouldn’t leave you alone and when he would, he would supply you with everything you could possibly need beforehand. Luckily, it never got annoying.

Being close to labour, Miles would only let particular people close to you. His recom team was fine. Sometimes he would make sure one of them looks out for you while he would go deal with work. 

You knew the team from work anyway so having either Z-Dog or Lyle, etc. look after you and spend time with you wasn’t new. 

They just had to make sure no people or random workers from the General would be around you. They stressed him out which made him think they would do the same with you. 

When you went into labour, Z-Dog was with you. She ran from your room to the meeting Miles was in. Once he heard, he got up and sprinted to your room without a second thought. He got the medical team together and didn’t leave your side as they rolled you into your prepared labour room. 

A few hours of pain, pushing and contractions went by and Miles was stressed out. But most of all he was worried. 

He didn’t want anything more at that moment than for you and the baby to be okay. It had haunted him that your life could be in danger during birth. The life of your baby too. 

He would comfort you and hold you, doing breathing exercises and all to help you deal with the pain. 

Once you started to give birth he was cradling your head, holding your upper body while you dug your fingertips into the skin of his arm, screaming. 

He hated seeing you in this pained state and needed to hold you close to make sure you were still with him. He had his eyes screwed shut and waited for any sign that this whole thing was over. 

The second he heard the cries of your baby he froze. Miles felt your body relax into his and he opened his eyes, making sure you were present and stable before turning to see one of the nurses holding the baby. It too was alive and breathing and the man just broke down. 

He was so thankful to have you by his side and he couldn’t believe the pain you had just fought through. 

The baby was handed to you and he leaned down, cradling both of you. 

He was crying at the realisation that he had a family now and he could have sworn that he was the happiest man alive. 

Mansk:

Mansk was working alongside you since you were both people but back then, you never acknowledged each other. You didn’t remember his face or know his name and vice versa. While both of you were loyal soldiers to Miles, you worked in different areas. 

When you woke up in your Na’vi body, he wasn’t there. He was already taken care of and dealing with Lyle. 

Z-Dog and the Colonel had helped you up. Once everyone was stable and awake, Quaritch ordered a gathering at dinner. 

Zdinarsk shared a room with you and you were given your usual cammies and some tops that basically looked just like sports bras. She found an old shirt which covered more and refused to let me have it. When we were in underwear and changing we spent at least 10 minutes in front of the mirror together, just pointing out to each other what has changed and what was weird.

Then we left for the dining hall and most of the team was already there. When we walked in Miles greeted us with an “Evenin’ ladies.” and a smirk. 

“You don’t have any clothes Y/N?” Lyle teased and I flipped him off, sitting down next to a chuckling Z-Dog. 

“You call that a shirt, Lyle?” I respond, gesturing to his tight, thin tank top. He scoffs, smiling before we direct our attention back to the Colonel. 

Mansk was sitting next to Lyle. When you walked in it was almost like Cupid’s arrow had struck him straight in the chest. He knew most of the team but he can’t recall ever seeing you. He recognised Z-Dog but he knew you weren’t Walker. As I walked past him, his gaze followed me and examined me from head to toe. 

Mansk was someone who would accidentally develop feelings. He was never a relationship type of person but when it happened, he didn’t know how to deal with it. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, he tried ignoring the feelings that were developing for you. 

But when the Colonel assigned you both as partners, he knew he was screwed. At that time, I had noticed Mansk too. He caught my eye because he would almost always wear his shades but when he didn’t I thought he looked quite cute. Then eventually came the time when I started to even like the sunglasses on him until I realised that maybe I just liked him. 

As partners, he would help with things. At first, we didn’t exchange too many words but then we warmed up to each other. If I was stuck with something like reloading a weapon I’d never seen before, he would help me. 

We had to practice training exercises with our partners at one point. That included learning how to handle the new equipment and weapons. 

There was one that you would need to strap to your arm and waist. I never used it like that, so when Mansk brought it over to me I just stared at it cluelessly. He chuckled softly. I loved it when he did that. 

Mansk knew how to handle all of these things. 

“Here, let me help you.” he said, placing it on my outstretched arm. His hands closed the straps around my arm and then he moved behind me, taking the straps that were meant to go around my waist between his fingertips. I pretended to examine the new weapon while really I was paying full attention to him. I felt his breath behind me and I waited for him to close the straps. 

He did it gently, making sure it wasn’t too tight. When his fingertips brushed up against the bare skin of my waist (because we had to wear training attire which was a little revealing), goosebumps rose on my skin. I hoped he wouldn’t notice. 

Then he returned and stood next to me again, letting his hand linger on my waist while he stretched his other one out to adjust mine into place. 

“Keep your arm stretched, then it’ll work.” he said, leaning closer to me. His face was really close to mine as he looked to see where I was pointing the weapon. 

His breath fanned over my shoulder and I let my eyes flutter closed, subconsciously exhaling the breath I seemed to hold in while he was behind me. When I opened my eyes I saw from the corner of my eye that he was no longer looking at where I am aiming but at me. 

He definitely saw my eyes close. 

Mansk felt the tension from the beginning and he was happy he was the one training with you. He noticed the goosebumps, the shivers and the heavy breaths. 

But he still wouldn’t dare make a move on you. You were too precious to him. He didn’t want to fuck up all the progress he has made with you. 

I turn my head and look him deep in the eyes. He stares back at me, his eyes slowly flicking from one of mine to the other. 

I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew he wasn’t the type of person to initiate things, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. Mansk preferred to follow orders. 

“Kiss me…please.” I whisper, looking from his eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes to catch his reaction. 

The man’s heart skips a beat and you notice the way his listening ears perk up a little more at your words. His eyes go a little wider and seem to almost even brighten. 

Without hesitating, he pushes your arm down, grabs your jaw and pulls your face to his. He leans down a little to you and tightens the loose hand that kept resting on your waist. 

When you pull away he can’t stop himself from mumbling “You’re so pretty.” 

It drives you crazy and you go to lock the door. 

Within a few days after that, your relationship has been made official. Mansk and you are dating and have mated the way Na’vi would. Even though neither of you had any experience in this body, the connection made with the tsaheylu’s felt right. 

When he heard you were pregnant, he was delighted. Mansk lifted you from the ground, hugging you and spinning you both around. 

He became much more present and happy in general, to the point where the team would notice it too. 

He took care of you, bringing you things. 

When you would go on missions he would never leave your side and one day, you had a craving for food bars. He ordered the few soldiers that were with us to stop and started opening his backpack, presenting you with almost every flavour and even drinks. 

Mansk was prepared for everything. 

He would do tasks for you and he liked carrying you around, even when it wasn’t necessary. Sometimes, he would have both of you stand in front of the mirror and he would lift your baby bump for you. 

He loved to watch the way your face and entire body relaxed into him. It made him feel needed.

When you went into labour he was worried. His ears were constantly strained back and he would be moving out of the way constantly so that doctors could get to you. Seeing you in so much pain had him feeling very uneasy but when you asked him to hang around and hold your hand, he seemed relieved. You hadn’t forgotten him and you wanted him to be with you.

He was protecting the bed and you most of the time, making sure only the medics could see you. His hand would occasionally cup your face, just to keep you reminded of his presence and his want to keep you comfortable. 

Mansk fit really well into the role of being a partner and once he became a dad, he mastered that as well. While helping you take care of your child, he would never fail to ensure that you were doing well. Even after giving birth, he refused to not take care of you. Seeing you battle the pain like that amazed him and he felt bad that you were the only one experiencing it. So he would happily spend the next months after labour, making sure you could fall back into your previous good and active condition. 

Lyle Wainfleet:

You and Lyle had some history. As human soldiers, you got along well. You were both working the same job and always having little competitions about who could do something better to impress the Colonel. 

There came a time when you were stressed because while being a soldier, you helped out in the lab with Grace’s reports. You were in the now empty break room of Quaritch’s team and were having a crisis about work. Someone had accidentally mislabelled everything and now the whole experiment was a mess. 

Lyle had walked in on your study session and sat down right next to you. Of course, him being him, he couldn’t let you work in peace and quiet. 

He started teasing you, shuffling around your papers and taking your pen whenever you looked away. 

At first, you ignored it but Lyle didn’t give up, it seemed to just motivate him. He started to tease and provoke you even more, occasionally adding in a flirtatious remark.

For example “The papers should be burning with how hot you look right now.”, or

“Put the pen down, baby. I know a place more useful for your pretty lil’ hands.” 

Lyle is resting his chin on his hand, not taking his eyes off of you. He needs any reaction. Whether it’s you turning red or just telling him off, he needs something, otherwise, he won’t stop. 

After being ignored again, he starts to get handsy. Lyle is telling himself he’s doing this just to annoy you, but he also happens to like your company and does find you incredibly hot. 

He starts nudging your legs with his knee or touching your fingers etc. Little does he know the frustration inside you has been building up over the past hour and with his presence, you lose it. 

When his hand reaches out to your face and throw your pen down and snap. You scream at him, telling him off and cursing in every way possible. 

Lyle almost immediately retracts his hand back to safety and even flinches when you raise your voice. 

When you finish calling him about every insult you could think of, you see him just grinning at you and it makes you even more frustrated. 

“Wow. That was so hot.” he says, the grin staying plastered on his face. My mouth falls open in disbelief. I couldn’t take it anymore. 

I let my face drop into my open palms and let out a whine followed by a deep sigh. 

“Do you know what you need right now”? He asks and I know he is about to hand me some dirty idea as an answer. 

I was right. “You need some expert stress relief.” he chuckles, motioning to him. 

I look up at him, having given up on fighting his annoyance. 

“Stress relief?” I ask, clearly not impressed. 

“Yeah. I can make you feel good, baby.” he says, moving closer, still teasing. He expected you to flip him off or tell him how gross he was so he could continue with his shit. But while he watched you, he noticed your eyes grow a little wider. You didn’t look like you were about to yell at him again. 

He stayed quiet, trying to analyse your face. You looked almost interested in his offer. Lyle was speechless. He wasn’t expecting this but fuck, he was more than happy to give it to you. 

“Are you joking?” you ask, wanting to make sure he isn’t messing with you. 

He thinks about his answer, not wanting you to feel discouraged. “Not if you don’t want me to be.” 

I keep staring at him and he notices how flushed my face looks. That’s all the persuasion he needs before Lyle stands up. 

“Let me take care of you, baby.” he says, towering over you and cupping your cheek. When you nod, he pulls you up on your feet and leads the way to his room, which is closer than yours. On the way, you tease him about him calling himself an ‘expert’ to which he tells you to shut up and let him convince you. 

Let’s just say, he does indeed convince you. 

After that night, you two have a friends-with-benefits arrangement going. 

After the battle on Pandora, both of you majestically die. You watch Lyle get crushed by one of the big heavy creatures, which distracts you enough with shock and grief to not pay attention to a bow flying to you. 

When you wake up in recom, Lyle is next to your bed. He’s keeping a safe distance and rubbing his head while the Colonel is examining his fangs. 

“Welcome back, Buttercup.” he says, smirking. He helps me with the wake-up procedure so that I don’t get scared and understand everything. 

Lyle and I seemed to kick off right where we ended. It was almost as if nothing had happened, except for one thing, other than us being blue. He was more caring. Before, he would tease and occasionally make jokes that ended up being a little hurtful, but he never noticed. 

Now, he wasn’t doing that anymore. We would still joke, but he made sure to leave me out of it. 

After a very physically exhausting training session the Colonel had you all do, you were finally dismissed and you headed for the showers. 

Just as you were about to walk out of the shower, you bumped into Lyle who had apparently been waiting for you. 

He wanted to go in next and when he saw you leave he smirked. 

“Hey, so how we feelin’ ‘bout our little arrangement?” he asked, presenting his typical cocky character. Seeing your moist skin on your arms and neck and your damp hair had his mind going places. You were wearing your sleeping shirt and shorts but he still looked at you as if you weren’t. 

I had wondered about that too. 

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You still wanna do it?” I ask him all innocent. I know what it does to him. It makes the man weak in the knees. 

“Do I want to?” he asks, sarcastically. “Babygirl, I think I’m gonna need you after seein’ you like this.” he smirks, taking a small strand of wet hair and tucking it behind your ear. 

Lyle had never done anything like that. Yeah, we’ve hooked up. The usual thing was him slapping my ass as he walks by or perhaps even resting his hand on my waist. But that was it. This here, that shit made me blush. It made my stomach erupt in excitement and not just for what was to come after he showered. 

I smiled, walking away to my room. “Come in whenever you’re ready.” I say over my shoulder. 

About half an hour later, I heard a knock on my door. When I open it I see Lyle outside, as expected. Only this time, his skin is damp too. And he isn’t wearing a shirt. Of course, why wear one if you’re about to take it off anyway?

He smirks and mentally pats himself on the back for choosing to not put it on when he sees how you struggle to take your eyes off his torso. 

“All yours, baby.” he said, slowly backing you up into your room and closing the door behind him. 

“I’m all yours and you’re all mine.” he said in a softer voice, placing his things down on your small table and slowly making his way to where you were standing. 

It seemed to hit him only then. You standing in front of him, still clothed but looking as beautiful as ever. The fact that both of you were Na’vi didn’t bother you. It was still Y/N and Lyle.

The way your big eyes looked up at him. It was almost loving and he sensed adoration more than arousal. 

A wave of happiness flowed through Lyle. Maybe you liked him more than just a fuck-friend too. 

Lyle was nervous as shit while taking his shower. He washed everywhere and kept looking in the mirror, wondering whether he even had a shot. You seemed keen on wanting to continue the arrangement but he started to feel more emotionally connected to you, not just physically. 

He stood in front of you now, gazing into your big curious eyes and losing himself in them. The silence was comfortable and he started to wonder how he could go about doing day-to-day activities without noticing or admiring you as a person. 

“Lyle…” you whispered out. But it wasn’t the needy voice he would have expected to hear. It was your real one. You were fully aware of this situation and not distracted by excitement. It made his heart skip a beat again. 

Lyle slowly leaned down to you, not even thinking about his actions. 

When your lips pressed against his, all questions were answered. You have never kissed properly before. Only during sex. This kiss meant more. 

When pulling away, you couldn’t stop yourself from mumbling. “I think I love you, Lyle” 

He froze and repeated your words in his head over and over again, staring at you in disbelief. God, did he love you even more now. 

You couldn’t get enough of him and connected your lips to his again. This time, he held you close to him. You wrapped your tails around each other and embraced the other as if they were all that mattered. In that moment, they were all that mattered. 

After pulling away again, Lyle said “Let me make love to you, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me.” 

And once again, he proved to you that he stuck by his words. Instead of just fucking, you did make love. You mated, using your tsaheylu’s and everything. 

A week after your night, you discovered you were pregnant. Neither of you thought about the consequences of your actions so it shouldn’t have been a surprise but it was. The pregnancy was unplanned but when you told Lyle, he looked like he had been waiting for that news for months. 

He was the happiest person on the planet in that moment. You both sat down together to talk about your relationship and how you would deal with a child if you decided to keep it. Well, if they even did abortions on Avatars. 

You decided to have a child and Lyle had left to tell all his friends on his team. He was very bad at containing his excitement. 

During the pregnancy, Lyle was already like a mother. He brought you anything, like literally anything. 

You forgot your hair tie on the other side of the lab? He would go fetch it, even if you had many more around. 

Any food cravings you had, you got them served. Lyle couldn’t cook. He was shit at it and something always burned but he had your heart because he tried really hard. 

He would leave you little love letters and notes on the nightstand or in your bag if he wouldn’t be seeing you for a while. But when he gets back, he makes up for the lost time with lots of snuggles. 

Lyle treats you like a princess, no kidding. 

When your baby bump grew, the man couldn’t stop himself from drawing a face on it. 

During labour, he was out of it. Seeing you in so much pain had him freaked out. He was worried sick. Like, he genuinely felt sick. What if you wouldn’t be okay after this? What if the baby wasn’t okay? So much was going through his head and he felt so useless because all he could do was stand and watch while the love of his life seemed to be fighting for her life. 

While giving birth, he was holding your hands, demonstrating how to breathe in and out deeply to calm yourself down. He did everything he could and once the baby was born, he could have collapsed into the hospital bed next to you. He didn’t of course, he needed to be with you and the baby. 

It still amazed him that you had brought new life to the planet and had created a family with him. 

He’ll be the most amazing partner and dad you could wish for. Always helping you out and is ready to risk it all for those he loves.

[theharrowing]

Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 3: Pretty good

His pull out game is strong but your hatred for him is stronger.

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🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 7.7k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother’s best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: alcohol consumption (mc is tipsy); talk of hiring sex workers; mention of masturbation with sex toys; mention of Yoongi fucking Jimin; use of "baby girl" & "submissive little fuck doll"; mc is a brat; dirty talk and filthy smut (safe word establishment; mc does not get undressed; hair gripping - no description of hair style or length; being handled roughly - pushed around, gripped by head and throat; face slapping; rough, messy blow job & face fucking; a lot of drool; spitting; rough sex; pussy slapping; cunnilingus, fingering, & ass eating; multiple orgasms; overstimulation); they do not kiss once; post-nut regret; possibly catching a feeling??? (lol, as if.)

🍃 note: this scene takes place in America and there is a brief interaction with a bartender but i didn't specify what language anyone is speaking or where these characters live because it seems very unimportant for a fic like this lol. i know nobody is here for the scraps of plot.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin​

🍃 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The summer sun is hot and oppressive, and you sit under the awning of a poolside bar, hair dripping from taking a swim, with a towel around your hips, waiting impatiently for the bartender to return with a blended margarita – desperate for the inevitable brain freeze, if it means you get to cool down. 

Why your brother chose to celebrate his September birthday in Las Vegas, of all places, is beyond you, and you try your hardest not to melt against the high bar chair and its tiny little wooden seat back. You only agreed to come because he is your brother, and you would never miss his birthday for the world. 

And you assumed that he and the guys would be so busy gambling and going to strip clubs – and whatever else men in their twenties do – that you would not get stuck running into a certain someone too much, despite foolishly agreeing to meet up, should the possibility arise. And you were right, for the most part. 

Night one consisted of dinner and drinks, and then the guys went off to various casinos on the strip to test their luck. You meandered through your hotel's casino, cradling a drink while taking in all the sights and sounds, ultimately becoming both underwhelmed and overwhelmed, and retiring to your room to sink into the jacuzzi tub. 

The following day, the guys slept in late while you went to breakfast, and then you joined them for some day drinking and a walk along the strip. And although your sworn enemy did make an appearance each time, with your brother around, he barely acknowledged your presence – something that you have found to be both a relief and somewhat infuriating. 

He has also been preoccupied with a pretty boy with bright orange hair named Jimin, and you find yourself wondering, whenever you see him, whether he is the hookup your enemy mentioned to you over text. 

Not that you want that devil to acknowledge you, nor do you want to care about who he fucks – after the stunt he pulled the last time you saw him, you find it impossible to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. But it still feels strange to be ignored by someone who made you cum so hard – a thought that makes you cringe.

You surmise that the guys had a long night at the strip club because it is almost noon, and you have not heard from your brother. Today has been set aside as a sleep-in-and-recharge day, anyway, so you have no plans until dinner, which is how you came to be at the large outdoor pool, perched at the bar without the expectation of running into anyone. Perhaps you should have rethought your plan and gone to someone else's expansive outdoor pool, but now is not the time for weighing the could-have-beens.

Once the bright blue drink in a tall, curvy glass is set before you, you sit high in your seat, smiling as you take hold of the chilled glass and wrap your lips around the neon pink straw, sucking in the ice-cold concoction that sends a shiver down your spine with a flavor that you can only describe as boozy blue.

"God, that's good," you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back with joy and lolling your head as a frigid rush works its way through your body, aided by your damp bathing suit. 

"Damn," a familiar voice rasps from behind, making you jump, "what do they put in those things?"

You don't need to turn to see that Yoongi has sat to your right, but you do, quickly taking in his naked torso and black swim shorts before turning your attention back to your drink, putting the straw between your lips and noting that he is dressed to swim but still dry. 

As much as you try to ignore his presence, you can feel Yoongi's eyes on you, and you do your best to ignore the way your skin has broken into goosebumps and your face warms. You do not like him, and you hate how your body responds to his presence.

Yoongi drawls a petulant, "Wow, not even gonna say hi to me, huh?" 

You roll your eyes, take a deep, chilling sip of blue, and turn your attention toward him, doing your best to appear wholly inconvenienced. Then, with wide, incredulous eyes and a fake smile, you say, "Hi, Yoongi," as sarcastically as possible. 

Yoongi snickers, then opens his mouth to retaliate, but the bartender returns and asks if he would like something, forcing his attention away as he points to your drink and says, "I'll have whatever that is."

The bartender cheerily says, "Blue raspberry margarita, coming right up!" and walks off. 

Yoongi turns his attention back to you to mutter, "Sounds mildly horrifying; I can't wait," with a grin.

Feeling annoyed and disinterested in whatever this man is playing at, you blurt, "Why are you here, Yoongi?"

"My best friend's birthday," Yoongi responds, running a hand through his short, mint-green hair, and sounding bored. "Why else?"

You sigh and roll your eyes, then focus on stabbing the pink straw into your blue drink. "I mean here, sitting next to me. There are other bars out here, and hundreds more along the strip. Shouldn’t you be preoccupied by that orange-haired guy who clings to you, instead?”

When Yoongi asks, "Why wouldn't I want to be here, sitting next to you?” his voice is much lower and much closer than you expect, and you flinch, turning your sights back to him. 

Yoongi leans on the bar top, elbow only inches away, and his gaze is piercing. Only a small floral bikini top covers your upper half, and your leg sticks out from the slit in your towel enough that when Yoongi's gaze roves slowly and hungrily over your body, you feel exposed. Anxiety crashes through you, but so does arousal, and you clear your throat and take another frozen sip. 

“And anyway,” Yoongi continues the moment you turn away, “Jimin is still asleep, and likely will be for several more hours.”

The bartender returns and sets Yoongi's drink before him, and you watch from the corner of your eye as his nimble, long fingers delicately cradle the glass and slide it toward himself. He sits forward, takes a sip, and then grumbles out something unintelligible under the sound of your pounding heart. 

"Hmm?" you ask, turning your attention to him. 

"Not as orgasmic as you made it seem, but not too bad."

With another roll of your eyes, you mutter, "You are so annoying."

Truth be told, sitting out here with Yoongi is not as bad as you would have thought. Perhaps it is because he is holding back from leaning too far into your personal space and wearing you down – likely because the two of you are surrounded by others, and there is a slight chance that your brother or one of the other guys could come find the two of you. Or, perhaps the dry Vegas heat is making you too worn out both physically and emotionally to care. 

Yoongi hums, and you turn your attention toward him without fully looking at him, continuing to suck at your melting drink. One thing you will give Vegas credit for is even these shitty slushies are potent enough that you are already feeling a little tipsy. 

"You seem calm today," Yoongi muses. "Did you also bring back an escort last night? Get the stress fucked out of you?"

Everything Yoongi says hits you like several small trucks, and you open and close your mouth, attempting to begin several sentences but feeling at a loss for which detail to hone in on. Finally, you settle on the most obvious bit and ask, "Escort? What?"

Yoongi laughs, and it sounds almost mocking and sardonic, so you look at him, finding him chewing on his bright yellow straw with a lopsided smile. "Why do you think the guys are so worn out? I've been keeping them busy."

"You've…what?" 

Another laugh, but this one comes from the guts, deep and amused. "What? We're in Vegas, baby girl! Gotta make sure to give the guys the full experience."

"You're lying," you mutter, straw wedged between your teeth, doing your best not to respond to the sound of him calling you baby girl out loud. 

Has Yoongi really been hiring sex workers to stay with the guys? All the while you've been using a vibrator and feeling too small in your gigantic suite. You have nothing against the notion of sex work, but knowing that your brother…a violent shudder runs through you as you attempt to shut out the thought.

"Ha, come on, do you really think I would lie about something like this? We found a fun little club not too far from here, and the guys took a liking to some of the dancers. Once we found out the girls can be rented for the night, that was that."

"Wow," is all you can mutter, because what else do you add? Must be nice? Thanks for the invite? Nothing feels appropriate. And anyway, what if Yoongi is lying?

"And what's the name of your favorite girl?" you ask, attempting to play it cool, taking another deep sip of blue before turning your eyes to Yoongi, whose gaze is firm.

The way he regards you is unyielding, and you squirm in your seat, finding it hard to hold eye contact. Somehow this is the most civil conversation you have ever had with Yoongi in person, and you find yourself nearly charmed by his presence. That is, until you recall how he showed up at your door knowing full well that your brother was not home so he could smoke you out and pressure you into rough sex on your bedroom floor, of all fucking places. 

And you almost break the spell and let your anger rise, feeling the sudden urge to chug back your drink and get the fuck away from this demon. But you cannot deny the way he made you feel, and you would be lying if you said you would not want to feel it again, especially after agreeing to hook up if the opportunity presented itself. It seems as if it has, in fact, done just that.

Although you are at war with your thoughts and not fully set on running off, you do slurp more than half of the remnants of your drink, which goes down easy now that it has more or less melted into a boozy syrup. 

"Well?" you challenge, curious what kinds of escorts Yoongi has been bringing back to his room. You wonder if they like it just as rough as you do. 

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth, then chuckles. "Nah, I haven't been partaking. Only supplying."

At this, you roll your eyes, once more. Why is Yoongi suddenly acting like a prude? "Sure, okay," you say incredulously. 

"I'm serious!" Yoongi insists, making you laugh more. 

"There's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, Yoongi," you say with raised eyebrows, almost defensively.

"I fucking know that," he bites back, "I'm the one hiring them!"

"Okay, then—"

"Why would I need to hire someone? You're right down the hall."

Now you know he is fucking with you, and you hate to admit it, but it makes you annoyed – a little upset, even. If Yoongi has been preoccupying the guys, why hasn’t he shown up at your door? He must be messing with you. 

"Shut the fuck up," you grit with your straw between your teeth before sucking the rest of your drink back. The straw gurgles loudly against the bottom of the glass as you angrily seek every last drop of tequila and blue. 

"I'm serious," Yoongi responds, close. 

When you regard him, he looks serious, but you are certain that he must be toying with you, and you begin to slide from the tall chair to the ground, stretching your toes to meet the rough gunite while your shifting weight makes the chair scrape loudly backward. 

There is laughter in Yoongi's voice when he asks, "Wait, where are you going?"

You sigh and stare at Yoongi's half-empty drink rather than at himself, contemplating how much you even want to reveal. You do not have feelings for him, for one thing, but you are also not sure whether he has just been messing with you and lying about wanting to hook up again. It almost feels like you are the butt of some joke.

"I'm not going to sit here and be made fun of," you say, pointedly not meeting his gaze before you turn to walk back into the hotel. 

"Wait," Yoongi says, and before you have a chance to register the word, his hand is on your arm, tugging you back. "There has definitely been a misunderstanding."

You are surprised to find that Yoongi is standing, and now that you are on your feet, the alcohol hits you at once, spinning you somewhat off your axis as you twist out of Yoongi's hold and frown at his eager expression. You stumble slightly back on flip-flopped feet and straighten out, giving him your best glare.

"Look, I'm not interested in your games, okay? I know you enjoy being an asshole for fun, so cut the shit, Yoongi."

Yoongi actually looks a bit upset before he schools his features and scoffs, taking a step back and reaching for his drink. He shrugs, then mutters, "Fine, be a fucking brat."

The whiplash is astounding, and you stand your ground while trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on. Yoongi sucks his cheeks in to finish the last of his tequila syrup, then he walks past you with an air of nonchalance that makes you turn on your toes and follow him in a huff. You were going to have the last word; who does he think he is?

As the two of you approach the open door of the hotel, Yoongi turns to glance over his shoulder and scoffs. "What? Tagging along so you can bitch at me in the elevator?"

"Oh, fuck off," you respond louder than necessary now that the two of you are in the crowded carpeted hallway and the raucous sounds of the pool are quieted behind concrete and glass. "I'm going back to my room."

"Sure you don't want to come back to mine?" Yoongi asks over his shoulder as you round a corner into a nearly empty hallway, walking deeper into the hotel. 

"What?" you all but shout.

"Oh, come on," he laughs, turning to walk backward just long enough to say, "I saw how jealous you got over the prospect of me fucking someone else, despite knowing full well that I do fuck someone else, regularly. Regardless, the guys are all asleep, which means an opportunity has presented itself."

"I was not—" you begin as his gaze rakes down your body, and he turns back around.

"Admit it," Yoongi drawls, taking a corner to the left into a small elevator lobby with eight gold doors. He presses a call button, then turns to fully face you. "You can't get me out of your head, can you? I've been watching you sneak glances all weekend, baby girl; you're a terrible actor."

How can one man be so exasperating? As you wait for one of the elevators to get close, you stare up at the lights above the nearest one, hoping that by some chance two of them open so that you are not stuck in a compact square carriage with him. 

But as one of the elevators behind you dings, and not a single person joins you inside, you realize all too soon that you are trapped with him, and only him. Yoongi steps in first and holds his hand in front of the door to keep it from closing, and you slide into the small space and step into the furthest corner from him, staring at the gold doors as they close, then watching in the peripheral as Yoongi hits the number 32 – the floor you both stay on. 

"So?" Yoongi drawls, causing your entire body to break out in goosebumps – though you reason it is likely from your bathing suit still being damp and has nothing to do with that demon's deep, inviting voice. 

"So, what?" you bite back, staring up at the little screen above the button panel that flashes with which floor it passes. 

"You gonna come to my room and let us both have what we want, or what? Nice and rough, just like you asked for.”

With a scoff, you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to find warmth and to cover how hard your nipples are under your bathing suit top. Yoongi steps closer, and in this enclosed space, you can smell hints of musk and cologne, and maybe something sweet, like a lingering trace of shampoo or a body wash. 

"Or maybe we should go to yours," he suggests, deep and quiet. "Your room is further from the others…don't need any of them hearing you screaming my name while I tame the brat out of you."

"You are insufferable," you grit under your breath, though your words do not sound as firm as you would like. 

Yoongi hums and steps impossibly closer, then says, "I know you can't stop thinking about me, baby girl. Just give in."

As soon as the elevator dings and the gold doors slide open, he side steps far away from you, giving you space to exit and begin the hurried trek toward your room. From the elevator lobby, yours is to the left and down a little, whereas the group of rooms the guys are staying in are just off to the right. If you did let Yoongi fuck you – which you are not – doing so in your room would be the wiser of the two choices.

You round the corner to the left and walk quickly down to your door. To your chagrin, Yoongi's flip flops smack behind you, and you sigh and let your head droop back, feeling too tipsy and maybe a little too horny to be allowing him to come to your room. You reach your door and fish your key from where it's wedged between your towel and hip, then turn and scowl, looking over Yoongi's shoulder to make sure nobody else is in the hallway to see the two of you together. 

"Go back to your room, Yoongi," you say. Your heart pounds the closer he gets, and you do your best to keep your eyes on his face, but he is shirtless, and he looks really good with his lean but defined muscles on display. 

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, stopping a foot away and leaning into the wall. 

"Yes!" you whisper-yell, insistent. You glance over his shoulder once more, then say, "The last thing I want is to get caught with you."

Yoongi's face brightens, and you know in an instant that you have fucked up. "Oh, so you do want me to fuck your brains out, but you're worried about getting caught?"

"That's not—"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and does not wait for you to finish your sentence, drawling, "I think it is. You already said as much over text."

Although your hand is lifted halfway to the key scanner, it is too far for it to detect the key and allow you entrance. You raise your eyebrows and use the hand holding the key to wave him off, muttering, "Shoo! Get the fuck out of here. I don't want to be seen with you."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, grabs your hand, and forces you to hold the key against the scanner, then reaches with his other hand to open the door and shove the two of you inside. Everything happens in a flash, and you barely have a chance to get your bearings, muttering, "Yoongi, what the f—" as you are ushered into the entrance of your hotel room, and Yoongi is closing the door behind the two of you. 

"Nobody can see us in here," Yoongi says as he steps out of his sandals and walks into your room, adding, "problem solved," over his shoulder. 

Your hotel room is fairly tidy, with only a few small sprawling piles of clothing and beauty products here and there. But you definitely left a dildo and vibrator lying tangled in the sheets of the bed from toying yourself last night, and you kick out of your sandals and scurry over to the bed, hoping to get to them before Yoongi sees them, finding him holding the small purple bullet vibrator between his fingers. 

"Naughty girl," Yoongi teases when you come into view, and you can hear him clicking on the power button multiple times to make the buzzing louder and stronger. 

"Put that down," you insist, closing the space between the two of you and reaching for it. 

"Let me use this on you," Yoongi mutters, dropping his arm down and brushing the vibrating toy over your thigh, right in between the slit of the towel. 

"Yoongi!" you yelp, hopping backward and reaching for his arm, but Yoongi just grins and holds the toy behind his back, flexing his arm as you attempt to yank on it. 

"Please," Yoongi asks softly, flashing a lopsided smile, and you shove at his chest and walk away, determined to put space between the two of you. 

Given how fast Yoongi can make you cum, the prospect of him fucking you while using your toy does excite you, but it also worries you. This man would turn you into a pile of mush in no time. Luckily, he turns the toy off and tosses it back onto your bed, toward the pillows. 

“We need to establish boundaries,” you say, walking over to a long mirror near the front entrance of the room to check your reflection. Although you appear tired from a combination of tipsiness, heat, and genuine exhaustion, you look good enough to let this demon perceive you. 

When you turn back to Yoongi, he is sitting on the corner of your bed, arms relaxed at his sides, waiting for you to continue. 

“Things like hitting, spitting, and hair-pulling are fine, but I get to tell you to stop if it becomes too much.”

“We’ll establish a safe word,” Yoongi says. 

A thrill rushes over you as you consider what your safe word could be, and you formulate an idea, unable to hold back from grinning. Yoongi must take notice, because he sits higher, raising his eyebrows curiously. 

“The guy with the orange hair,” you say, approaching Yoongi, whose eyes widen as you speak, “is he your regular hookup?”

Yoongi smiles sharply, then nods his head slightly as he says, “He is.”

“And he knows you plan to fuck me? Or are you doing it behind his back?”

Yoongi’s smile turns wide and playful. “He knows.”

“Hmm,” you respond, stepping close enough that he could reach out and touch you. “My safe word is Jimin.”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, then sits back, placing his palms against the white comforter on the bed. “Really?” 

You chuckle as you nod and say, “Yup.”

“You’re going to scream Jimin’s name if you want me to slow down or stop?”

“Correct.”

Yoongi laughs, clearly amused, then he nods and says, “Alright. Works for me. Any other boundaries? Things you’re not into?”

Truthfully, at this moment, there is nothing you can think of. So you shrug and say, “Nothing as of now…but I’ll tell you if that changes.”

“You’ll moan my hookup’s name if you change your mind,” Yoongi mutters with a smirk. 

“Yup.”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders and then sits up straight before slowly beginning to stand. You take a step back, feeling nervousness sink in over the fact that this is really happening, especially with the way Yoongi stands tall with his shoulders square and his expression flat. 

“Repeat your safe word for me,” Yoongi commands. 

“Jimin,” you respond, much softer than intended. 

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth rises for a split second, then he squints as if he is disgusted by what he sees. Instinctively, you take another step back. 

Yoongi is quick as a serpent, hand snapping up to grip onto your jaw and make you gasp – startling you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a sharp snarl. 

Although you move your lips, all you are able to mutter is vowels, unsure what to say. 

“You’re mine, baby girl. You don’t so much as move unless I command it.”

Although you are aware that your safe word negates his statement, your heart thrums heavily behind your ribs at the idea of being at Yoongi’s mercy. You told him you wanted it rough – wanted it to hurt – and now that you stand before him, trepidation sinks deep. 

Yoongi continues to grip firmly to your chin while his free hand rips the towel from around your hips and chucks it to the side, making you gasp and flinch. The bikini you wear is small and still a bit damp, and you shiver as the air hits your bare thighs and tummy. Your breaths are heavy, causing a quick rise and fall of your chest, and you already feel a bit dazed from being handled his way. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi growls with a sharp, hungry gaze, lips upturned. “You can talk all the shit you want about how much you hate me, but I can see the way you want me, baby girl."

His grasp on your jaw is firm, and when he begins to pull his arm back, toward the bed, you step with him, moving slowly as his body rotates. Yoongi smirks razor-sharp, eyes burning with excitement, and you hate how absolutely right he is. You want him real bad. 

"Wanna choke on my cock while sitting on the bed, or down on your knees?" Yoongi asks, leaning nice and close, wafting warm, sugar-sweet breath into your face. 

"On the bed," you mutter, voice hoarse and weak. 

Yoongi grips your jaw ever so slightly, then pushes you down into the bed, causing you to gasp and scramble as you keep from sliding off the edge, hands gripping onto the white comforter. 

"Not eager to get back onto the floor with me?" he chides, but all you can do is stare upward as he looms over you, fingers working the velcro fly of his black swim shorts. 

Yoongi wastes no time pushing his shorts to the floor, revealing a half-hard and inviting cock. Last time, you hardly got a good look at him, but this time, it is all you see as Yoongi grips onto the back of your hair and yanks you forward, practically shoving himself against your lips. 

"Don't be shy, baby girl," Yoongi groans, using his other hand to gently squeeze your throat. You look up at Yoongi without tilting your head, greeted by a dark stare that gives you chills as he adds, "Let's see what that pretty, bratty fucking mouth of yours can do."

With a deep, fortifying breath, you sit high on the bed, hands still gripping the comforter, and you run your tongue over the shaft, just below his cockhead. His skin is smooth with a faint soapy smell, and you let your eyes flutter as your lips close over the head, wetting the skin. 

"We don't have all fucking day," Yoongi practically growls as he presses your head close to his pelvis. 

With a snarl, you glance up through your lashes, saying, "We quite literally do have all day," lips still pressed against him. In a show of brattiness, you add, "So do you want it, or are you going to keep being an asshole?"

Yoongi releases the hand on your hair and slaps you against the cheek. It is not hard enough to sting, but it is enough to make you gasp, eyes wide as you let the slight tingle settle over your skin. Although you would ordinarily be ready to fight a man for slapping you, in this setting, it excites you – makes you want to act like even more of a pain in his ass. 

"Too far?" Yoongi asks, expression still hard but with a hint of softness hiding around the edges.

If this were anyone else, you would bat your lashes and tell him you liked it – that it felt exciting enough to set a spark in you that is threatening to light a proper fire. But this is Yoongi, so you scoff and say, "I didn't call my safe word, did I?"

Yoongi chuckles in response with the edge of his mouth tugging into a sharp sneer. Then he slaps you again, this time hard enough to sting, and he grips your throat and tugs you against him, forcing your forehead to crash against his tummy while the head of his cock presses into your lips and teeth. 

"Suck my fucking dick or I'm leaving," he commands. 

With a roll of your eyes, you grumble, "So moody."

You can hear the beginning of a response, but you open wide and swallow Yoongi as far as you can take him, letting the tip lightly touch your throat. Yoongi groans, tightening his grip on your neck before relaxing it while the other firmly grabs the back of your head.  

Without warning, Yoongi bucks his hips, thrusting deep. You gag, but not badly enough to have to pull off, swallowing the feeling while he pulls back and thrusts forward again. And again, pulling out, slamming deep, and pulling out, clearly not setting a rhythm so much as testing your limits. 

You lift your hands and settle them on his hips, surprised by how soft his skin feels beneath your fingertips, and when he pulls back again, you take in a deep enough breath through your nose. Although Yoongi is forceful, his grip on you is loose – a small mercy considering you are already drooling and beginning to cry.

"Damn, baby girl, your throat feels amazing," Yoongi rasps, voice coming out surprisingly desperate. 

As he sets a pace, you settle into the pattern of breathing in time with his thrusts, and Yoongi continues to hold onto your head and neck while he fucks your face. Although you have given a sloppy blow job or two in the past, this is the first time you have allowed someone to be in control. 

Tears catch in your eyelashes and fall, and you glance up, watching as Yoongi grits his teeth and knits his brow, clearly holding himself back from losing some semblance of control – whether it is the urge to fuck harder or to cum already, you can only presume. 

When his eyes meet yours, he moans, allowing his eyelids to flutter, causing your strong foundation of hating his fucking guts to crumble just a little. Yoongi looks sexy while falling apart, sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest, which rise and fall with each breath he takes. 

"You have no idea how fucking good this feels," Yoongi mutters, hissing as his cock presses in nice and deep, causing thick drool to build. 

The sounds that come from you are wet and pornographic, forced from your throat. You attempt to hum in response to his praise, but the sound is garbled and lost. Not that he needs to hear your sweet utterances, anyway; what would that do for his ego?

When Yoongi pulls all the way out, it surprises you. You lurch slightly, your mouth following the movement while your lungs attempt to adjust to a full intake of air. Yoongi moves his hand from the back of your head and slaps you across the cheek, making you whimper. 

Drool coats your lips and chin, tears streak down your cheeks, and the way Yoongi looks down at you is practically reverent. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking – Min Yoongi does not look at you like that. 

Thankfully, in a blink, the expression is gone, replaced by something much sharper. Yoongi reaches down and yanks at your swim top, forcing your breasts to spill in a jerking motion. Too stunned to respond, you sit while Yoongi roughly palms at your chest, calloused hands against soft, sensitive skin. 

Yoongi squeezes and slaps your breasts, giving your nipples a pinch with one alternating hand while he continues holding you firmly by the throat. You do your best not to react too loudly, huffing and sighing without moaning; you want Yoongi to really work to get a reaction out of you. With how cocky he is, you expect he will have no trouble doing so.

Without warning, Yoongi shoves you onto your back, fully releasing you, and sending you crashing against the comforter. You scramble, legs spreading as you lift one in an attempt to get into any position that might be useful, but Yoongi bends and grabs your ass, yanking it off the edge of the bed and pressing in a way that lifts your hips slightly, causing your legs to flail and spread. He yanks your swimsuit bottom to the side, bends just enough to spit on you, and then he rubs the tip of his dick against the spit, over your clit and labia before he spears you nice and deep. 

The stretch makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes tight, gripping the comforter and attempting to find a position to hold your legs. Yoongi presses and slightly twists you so that one leg is bent and somewhat hanging downward and the other is lifted high in the air, and he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and deep before you can wrap your head around anything.

"Holy fuck!" you scream, pleasure-pain so intense, you struggle to breathe. 

"So tight," Yoongi moans, pressing his weight into you even more, making your leg muscles burn and ache. 

All you can do is lay and take what Yoongi gives you, doing your best to relax your muscles while he fucks you harder and better than anyone has before. You said you wanted it rough, and you are not disappointed. With each deep thrust, you chase your high quickly. 

Yoongi reaches with one hand and roughly rubs over your clit, giving your pussy gentle slaps that send you hurtling over the edge. Your moans turn into sobs, back bowing from the bed as you build and build and then crash. 

"That's it, baby girl," Yoongi grits, fingers working your clit in more practiced movements. "Show me how fast I can make you cum."

"Sh-sh-shut up," you grumble, head digging back into the comforter. Orgasm washes over you, threatening to drown you in its undertow, and you sob and moan, hands tensing and releasing as your legs tremble at their awkward angles. 

Yoongi pulls all the way out before you finish, shoving your legs down and forcing you to roll over. You move in a haphazard tangle of limbs, your body both shimmering from its high and feeling unfulfilled.

As you get onto your stomach, you drag-crawl up the bed just enough to prevent your knees from hanging uncomfortably, glad when the bed dips and Yoongi follows you. Both hands grip your ass cheeks, pulling the material of your bathing suit and causing the fabric to dig into your skin. 

Yoongi slides back in and presses his hands firmly on your ass and lower back, pinning you down while his thrusts make the mattress bounce. You feel dizzy as Yoongi fucks you deep, and when he moves his hands to anchor beside your hips, you bounce even harder. 

One hand presses down on the side of your head and pushes your face into the mattress, and although it does not hurt, the pressure is enough to make you feel almost floaty and perfectly used. You are so close to cuming again, and when Yoongi leans low, warm breath ghosting over your face, you close your eyes. 

"This rough enough for you?" he asks, voice raspy and enticing. 

You practically scream yes and divulge just how good he makes you feel – how you will likely never be fucked this good by anyone else. But you choose to hold onto the praise for another day. 

"It's pretty good," you manage to mutter between unrelenting slaps of skin against skin. 

Yoongi scoffs. "Pretty good," he grits, mostly to himself. 

Then he spits on the side of your mouth, causing you to scowl. Yoongi removes the hand from your head and rubs his fingers over the saliva, smearing it over your lips and cheek while his hips continue their attack. 

"You look so good, all messy," he says with a playful tone. "Nothing but a submissive little fuck doll for me to use as I please."

Yoongi sits up, grips you by the hips, and speeds his pace, causing every muscle in your body to fight between wanting to tense and relax. You chase your next high and breakneck speeds, babbling nonsense as Yoongi uses you just as promised. 

You nearly cum just as Yoongi pulls out and releases his hold. With an impatient, frustrated groan, you bury your face into the blanket while Yoongi's weight shifts and reaches under you to grab your hips. Hot breath follows a warm wet tongue against your pussy, and you moan loud and eager, doing your best to pop your ass out and give him as much access to you as possible as a new rush of pleasure takes hold. 

Yoongi buries his face into you and puts his whole jaw into devouring your cunt, lips and tongue working you over in broad, sloppy movements. Remnants of the high you were chasing before build quickly. And when his tongue moves to your asshole and he plunges two fingers into your pussy, thumb rubbing over your clit, the dam breaks. 

Gripping the comforter, you squeal and moan, feeling wave after intense wave flow through you. Yoongi hums and groans as he tongue fucks your ass, fingers and thumb rubbing over your sweet spots. As soon as your high dissipates, you feel another racing to take its place. 

This time, when he pulls away before you can cum, you feel relief. You do your best to relax and catch your breath, feeling your entire body tremble and sink into the mattress. 

"Already going limp on me," Yoongi teases, pressing into your hips to make you roll around to your back again. 

“Making me dizzy,” you complain as you flop over, legs spreading uselessly, plopping down to the mattress. 

Your bathing suit top is even more askew, breasts hanging past the thin cups that have shifted, but you do not care. This is exactly how you wanted to be fucked – rushed, rough, and without any preamble or romance. 

“You like it when I play with your ass,” Yoongi teases, lips pulled into an obnoxious smirk. 

“Shut up,” you complain, rolling your heavy, tired eyes. 

Yoongi spreads your thighs with both palms and spits with enough force onto your clit that it makes you flinch. One hand stays pressed into your thigh while the other pumps and lines up his cock. 

How it still feels so incredible when he spears you open is a mystery; your body should be used to it by now, but instead, the stretch feels overwhelming, making you moan and arc off the comforter. 

“Should let Jimin and I double penetrate you,” Yoongi grits between his teeth as he pulls back and slams forward. 

“Oh my god!” you scream as Yoongi grips your hips and drives his cock into you so hard, your body trembles and jiggles with each perfect punch of his hips. 

Although the prospect of actually meeting Jimin does interest you, and it does feel good when Yoongi plays with your ass, double penetration – specifically anal sex –  is not something you are ready for. But you are unable to voice your trepidation at the moment, mouth only capable of sputtering nonsense between sobs and moans, which you are no longer capable of holding back. 

Yoongi leans, deepening his thrusts, and he slots two fingers into your mouth, pressing on your tongue and forcing you to drool. His fingers taste like you, heady and ever so slightly tangy, and he grips onto your jaw nice and tight while each drag of his cock threatens to send you into a new dimension of existence. 

Your eyes flutter, and you wonder if it is possible for your soul to slip from your body. You feel tingly and elevated into clouds – like nothing in the world exists but the two of you tangled in this sardonic dance. 

"Fuck, I won't last much longer," Yoongi groans, and you practically thank the heavens. 

At this rate, if Yoongi does not cum soon, you might risk actually wanting to see him more often. You might find yourself thinking about him while he is away, and, god forbid, wanting to invite him over to do this again. 

"Can I cum inside you?" Yoongi asks, voice breaking around the edges. 

You attempt to mutter, "Absolutely not," around his fingers, but the sounds come out jumbled and drool runs down your cheek. 

Luckily, Yoongi seems to understand, and he slides his fingers from your mouth, then pulls all the way out and begins to stroke himself off with his drool-covered hand. Although you find it hard to keep your eyes open, you cannot help but stare. 

Yoongi kneels over you, head tipped back with his throat bobbing as he chases the last of his high. He moans loud and unabashed, sounding and looking far better than you care to admit, with his mint-colored hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty little stalactites. He trembles as his cum sprays from his glistening cock, covering your thigh and hip, and as he squeezes his tip to get the last remaining drops out, he falls slightly forward, bracing himself with his free hand. 

"God damn," Yoongi groans, head drooping low. "I knew you would feel good but that was insane."

The urge to tell Yoongi to shut up is strong, but you find you cannot get the words out. All you can do is stare as he catches his breath. You wonder how you have never noticed how broad his shoulders are before, eyes tracing the lines of muscle and bone. Briefly, you even wonder if you could have a crush on someone like him, before you heavy-blink and shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You hum in response to Yoongi's words, delayed because you are stuck in your head. Of course, you would be thinking thoughts about a man who makes you feel this good – but that is all they are, thoughts. Yoongi is an idiot, at the end of the day, who is best friends with your brother, and something like this cannot become a regular occurrence. Surely, once you have come down from your various highs, you will be right back to hating him. 

"Alright," Yoongi groans, finally meeting your eye while he slides off the edge of the bed, into a standing position. "This was fun. Thanks for the pussy."

"Whatever," you grumble, finally attempting to move your bathing suit back into place before realizing you still have Yoongi's cum drying on your fucking hip. 

"Next time, I want to bring Jimin. You'll love him, trust me."

With a sigh, you glance around the room, then remember there is a box of tissues sitting on the bathroom counter. "There is definitely not going to be a next time," you respond as you begin to attempt to roll into a position that does not make the cum trickle onto the bed. 

"You always say that," Yoongi teases, pulling his shorts up, "but I know you'll be thinking about me after this. I saw the way you drifted, baby girl. You were having an out of body experience while I fucked you nice and hard."

"Alright, fuck off," you complain, sitting up and untying the still-damp bathing suit from your chest. Post-nut regret settles deep the more he eggs you on, and it is beginning to annoy the shit out of you. Why must he speak? All of this would be much more pleasant if he would just fuck you and go.

Yoongi turns and walks away without another word. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in, making an attempt at centering yourself. This was just another slip-up, and hardly a big deal; it is not as if you will be asking for a round three. He is simply too annoying and low-key inconsiderate. 

You sit and wait for the door to open and close, planning a nice warm shower. The only plan the group has is to meet for dinner, and that isn't for another few hours. You are shocked when you feel something hit you on the arm, and your eyes fly open to find the cardboard cube of tissues resting by your hand, and Yoongi standing nearby with a smile. 

"See ya later," he calls, waving his fingertips playfully while a sweet, almost pretty smile graces his lips. 

"Yup," you respond, tearing your gaze away and looking down at the tissues. Only when you finally do hear Yoongi leave, do you begin to wipe yourself clean.

"Get your shit together," you mumble under your breath, disgusted by how much you actually did enjoy Yoongi's company, bothered by how your giant suite feels lonely the moment he is gone. 

You need to get a grip before dinnertime. And you need to resist the urge to get to know Jimin. This can not and will not become a regular thing. There is absolutely no way it can. Nothing good can come from catching feelings for the devil with the mint hair.

ahhh, here we are again with a written part after almost a full year! let me know what you think! i only have 1 other part planned, but that doesn't mean it will end there. (no promises, tho!)

comments and reblogs make the world go 'round! and likes are appreciated, too!!!

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Devil with the Mint Hair is copyright 2022 - 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. 

[bri-sonat]

Kisses Of Fire

Follow-up to Life Eternal

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Knight!Reader

Warnings: NSFW!! Major GoT spoilers, descriptions of violence & blood, angst, SMUTTY SMUT, oral sex, praise kink, semi-public sex, a tiny bit of angst again, fluff.

A/N: so as i was writing this i realized i totally made up my own timeline, oopsie, so i should clarify. the first two fics (enjoy the silence & life eternal) took place post the long night and pre the end. this fic catches up to that. this is (by my own opinion and admission) not my best work, but i've been working on it for so long and it's been approved for public reading, so, here it is. the finale. the end of our two beloved knights' love story. blah blah blah english is not my first language (obligatory warning). i hope the ending is satisfactory to all, enjoy!

big thanks to my dear bestie aron (@queerofalltrades) for reading through it and giving it the stamp of approval, and for helping me with the idea for this fic, without them, this fic wouldn't exist. and spouse heather (@pastanest) for helping me compact complicated GoT plot and for explaining more GoT customs to me.

It had been five months since that fateful night by the stables when your love had screamed after you with all her might with tears in her eyes. 

That had also been the last time she had communicated with you at all. 

You had sent her ravens, every Sunday for the past months, concluding your week, talking about your father's passing, and your mother. No message was ever sent back but your own, unopened and unread. Despite this you kept sending them, to keep your oath and to let her know you thought about her, every single day. 

In your messages to her, you often mentioned things you saw during your day that reminded you of her. Like the bright blue sky, equally as bright as her eyes and smile. The setting sun, just as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Any time you saw something dark blue, much reminding you of the unique armor she always donned. 

These small details were added for her to know that you hadn’t forgotten her and that she was always on your mind; had she read them, she would’ve been made aware of this fact. 

You couldn’t blame her for ignoring your messages. She was upset that you left, that you didn’t listen to her cries. That you had made her fall in love, and that you ripped her heart out of her chest. 

What you couldn’t understand, however, was her stubbornness, she knew you had no choice. In fact, she would’ve done the same had her father gotten ill, considering she’s his only heir. The only difference was she would’ve let you come with her; she would’ve begged you to. 

She would have hired you as her main bodyguard, as her master-at-arms, as Commander of her troops, she would have hired you as anything if it meant always having you at her side. Even as she ruled over Tarth. 

That was the difference between her and you, she had obligations and could not join you, even when she desperately wanted to, you, however, could join her. You weren’t sworn to anyone but your family, Brienne, and the Gods, there was work for knights everywhere, you could go wherever you wished. 

She went where her loyalties led her, and her loyalties always led her to the daughters of Lady Catelyn Stark. Despite the Lady’s murder at the red wedding years prior, the honorable blonde kept serving the daughters, because death did not release her from her vows. You admired her extreme loyalty and virtue, there weren’t many people like her left in the world you lived in, everyone was either greedy, monsters, liars, or all three. 

Your unopened scrolls started to pile up on your desk and you wondered how long she would keep this up. Your patience only lasted for so long and you couldn’t deny the pang of hurt that surged through you and your heart when yet another message was returned, unread. After a while, you started to wonder if she had even received your ravens at all. 

About one month after you had arrived at your family’s residence in Lemonwood, your father passed due to his illness, leaving you and your mother as the attendees of the family business. 

The four months that passed after that were spent keeping up the trade, meeting shipments at Planky Town as they came in from the Westerosi coast and the Free Cities of Essos, comforting your mother, and sending unrequited ravens to Brienne. 

To honor your duties as a knight, you offered your help to the Martell family, having history with them that went all the way back to your grandfather's childhood. The only living one of them called for you every now and then for advice, or just to help patrol around Sunspear. 

You were a familiar face for most, having spent a lot of time in the city growing up, and you recognized some people as well, stopping to have a chat with some; and others, you just gave a polite nod to considering where you knew them from. 

Brienne was a constant on your mind, even when you received the news one week after your arrival of Kings Landing crumbling, the deaths of Jaime and Cersei Lannister, and Jon Snow assassinating Daenerys Targaryen. 

A few weeks after the fall of the capital and the deaths, Prince Martell had to leave for unstated business in Kings Landing. He had asked you to look over things while he was away and you accepted, not inquiring what said business was about. 

He had returned about a week later and stated that Bran the Broken had taken the now melted Iron Throne and that The North had been established as an independent kingdom with Sansa as its ruler. The mention of her name brought forth memories of the last time you had spoken to her, recollections of Brienne, and eventually evocations of her by the stables. 

You had no news of your knight; you did not even know if she was alive. 

You desperately wanted to ask Prince Martell about Brienne. Just a simple, ‘My Lord, was there a tall blonde by Sansa Starks’ side?’ would have been adequate, but you hadn’t dared to verbalize the query in case the answer was no. If the answer was no, it meant that she was no longer alive, because your knight was always by the redhead's side as her sworn sword. 

Part of you hoped that if she had met her untimely death, you’d be notified; but had to come to terms with that there would be no reason for anyone to think of doing so. 

Around the same time of Prince Martell's return from Kings Landing, your raven returned, however, something was different this time. The bird carried both your scroll and another. You had hoped it was from Brienne, disappointment settled in when you saw that it wasn’t. 

The words on the Stark stationary were very few, only there to convey the brief piece of information necessary. Despite the lack of long and many sentences, the small amount was exactly what you needed to hear. 

“Brienne no longer resides in Winterfell. She has relocated to the White Sword Tower in Kings Landing. – Sansa Stark.”

She was alive. A flood of relief washed over you but was quickly replaced by sadness and confusion. She was alive but ignored your messages; and she was in the King's Guard, of course. 

You read the message again and detected that Brienne's and Sansa’s titles were missing in the message, meaning she had forsaken professionalism. This led you to the conclusion that she somehow knew about you and your knight's infatuation with each other. It gave you a sense of calmness, knowing that you would have been notified had she perished. 

It then broke your heart, realizing that the blonde couldn’t let go of her pride for one second to personally let you know of her relocating, she had to have someone else do it for her. You would have expected her to tell you so herself but apparently, that was too highly anticipated of you, so silly of you to think that she could be bothered to tell you personally, how unreasonable, how idiotic. 

There were whispers of a new Lord Commander, but no one knew who they were, only that the King's Guard now only consisted of two knights. You knew that Brienne was one of the members, considering her new residency but still had no idea who the Commander could be considering they had no distinguishing marks to tell them apart from the rest of the guard. 

So, until it was confirmed who had filled the position, it was unknown information and you made it a habit to spike your ears whenever you heard people mention ‘Lord Commander’ in conversation, hoping to learn what everyone was curious to know. 

——— 

Brienne’s life had been quite non-identical. She had spent the entire week after your departure mourning you. She noticed your absence in everything: her bed, her heart, breakfast, training, dinner, and the void was particularly draining after her patrols when your usual midnight meetings would occur. She had gotten used to your touch, now the only thing she felt was the cold hand of complete loneliness. 

During your stay, Brienne's squire, Podrick, had noticed the taller knight's infatuation with you and stayed away, giving you the space to speak uninhibitedly. You had not met him but had heard such wonderful stories of their adventures together. He instead lurked in the background, training with your love when you had split off during the day. 

With you gone, he had proven to be a comforting presence for Brienne, but the hole left inside of her was still gaping, a void that only you could seal. She trained him whenever she had free time, which was more often with you not there, and he grew stronger and stronger for each day that passed. 

Sometime after the Battle of Kings Landing, Brienne traveled to the Dragonpit to represent Tarth in the trial of Tyrion Lannister. From what she had been told by Sansa whose opinion she valued most amongst those present at the trial, Daenerys had gone against his advice, he had then denounced himself as her Hand, resulting in imprisonment for his defiance. 

Jon Snow, who Brienne had come to conclude was a good man after the time spent with him at Sansa's side, had then had a conversation with Tyrion within the cell he was held in, before murdering Daenerys.  

During the trial, Brienne sat and listened to Tyrion as he advised the gathered council to elect a new King to decide his fate. Expressing his reasoning, he suggested Brandon Stark. At this, the blonde knight assented, as did everyone else. 

Brandon Stark then met Sansa’s demand for the North to once again become its own sovereign kingdom, as it was for thousands of years.  

Tyrion’s punishment, as decided by King Bran, was to reclaim his position as Hand to the monarch and amend his previous mistakes in the same position, under previous rulers, for the rest of his life. Though the Lannister strongly opposed this idea, that only made the punishment more just, as, to him, it was not the reward that many would take the position to be. 

However, the minute Brienne had assented by saying ‘aye,’ she was ashamed to admit how little of her attention she devoted to the trial due to her mind being occupied by thoughts of you, but alas, that was her fate. She was well aware of the people around her and what decisions were made but she couldn’t have cared less. 

She had acknowledged your ravens, she just didn’t have the strength to open them, to read about your life without her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and she chastised herself for it. Despite how well aware she was of her unwarranted and irrational behavior, she ignored them, but you just kept sending them and it got harder and harder for Brienne to just leave the inviting scrolls; however, she knew it would only hurt her more to read about your Dorne adventures. 

In hindsight, however, those messages would’ve been something much more joy-inducing to have of yours, compared to the only thing she had in her possession. 

After the trial, Bran had approached Brienne, and offered her the position of Lord Commander in his Kings Guard, he was a very blunt man, the King, and she had been a bit surprised with just how candid he was. She had managed to hide her initial reaction and had humbly accepted his offer. Sworn the oath at the Stark’s request and stated that her squire is yet to be knighted and that she would do so with haste. 

Podrick was ready and had been for a while, but she was called to Kings Landing for the trial before she had the opportunity to knight him. This worked out in his favor however, considering being knighted by someone from the King's Guard and the Lord Commander of it, was seen as prestigious; and would earn him substantially more respect than if she would’ve knighted him when she was still a knight herself. 

The King had nodded at her declaration, “I will ask Sansa to have someone pack up and send your belongings here. Tell your squire to come see me as soon as he is a knight. In the meantime, I believe we have some measurements to get for your new armor.” 

“Your Grace, there is no need for that. I have no belongings in Winterfell I’d like to keep. I brought everything important with me.”  

“Are you sure, Lord Brienne?” 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“Very well. Now, come with me.” 

Podrick, who had followed Brienne from Winterfell to Kings Landing, had been approached by the taller knight the day after the trial. 

He had a puzzled expression on his face as he watched her and she knew he had a question to ask, she would have preferred if he had kept his mouth shut about it but had allowed him to ask it anyways; regretting it as soon as he spoke. 

“Lord Commander?” Hesitant in his tone, he had looked up apologetically at Brienne with the hope that she wouldn’t scold him for granting his inquisitiveness to take over. 

“Yes, Podrick?” She stared down at him and she could almost see the gears that had been turning in his head; looking for the most well-mannered way to phrase the words that followed. 

“I apologize for what I am about to ask but I am afraid curiosity has gotten the best of me. Whatever happened with the knight from Dorne?” She released a sigh, there it was. 

“I do not wish to speak of them, not because there is anger but because there’s too much pain.” Brienne had remained stoic in her answer and in her facial expressions, but her insides had been bleeding, almost like she had been impaled by a sword and left to die, bathing in a pool of her own blood. 

That was the first and only time she and Podrick ever spoke about your departure. The shorter man had opened his mouth to say something else but was quickly interjected by Brienne. “Come along Podrick. There’s something we need to do.” 

“Yes, My Lord.” 

As they walked through the ruins of Kings Landing, Brienne wondered if she should’ve been the one to send a raven to inform you of her move to another kingdom, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so. 

She had instead asked Sansa if she would send one, to which she agreed. The redhead had seen the affection you held for each other and knew that there was more to your seemingly professional relationship. Brienne hadn’t known the reason for the Stark’s compliance but was grateful for it either way. 

All the memories that had been created in Winterfell were painful for Brienne and she found it almost relieving that she didn’t have to return, there was too much sadness there. She did not know when you would return to her, even if it had only been around one month since you had left, so leaving all the woeful memories behind was easier than she had thought. 

The happier ones were harder though, the memories in the courtyard, her room, the mess hall, the bathhouse, your room. The room where she had found the letter that changed everything. 

She had kept the note. It was now stained with dried tears, the paper damaged by the salty drops; ink smudged in various places. She kept it somewhere safe, out of sight from wandering eyes but close by. 

It was read every single night with tears in her eyes before she went to sleep, desperately trying to remember what your voice sounded like, to no avail. 

She had brought it with her to Kings Landing for the trial, not wanting to leave without it. Reading through your words had become routine, and it had gotten to the point where she could not sleep if she did not read your letter before bed. It was one of the first personal items to take its home in her new living quarters.  

Brienne and Podrick had walked in silence as he took in the crumbled kingdom. The fire had stopped but the damage was still apparent. Blackened remains of destroyed buildings and dried blood on the ground. 

The charred corpses had been moved the day before, given a proper burial in unmarked graves, at Tyrion’s request. To have it done within a day, the blue-eyed knight had assisted; her strong arms able to carry double the weight. 

It had been a grisly sight, and even Brienne, who had seen plenty of violence in her days, had felt a hint of nausea and sorrow go through her at the sight of the destruction. The smell hadn’t made it any better. 

The two had turned a corner and Brienne entered a large building that surprisingly hadn’t been affected by the attack, far enough away from the dragon's path of destruction. The room had been dimmed, rays of sun coming in from the small windows lining the walls; standing along it was Tyrion, his small form lurking in the darkness. 

The tall knight stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, Podrick had done the same a couple of feet behind her to avoid crashing into Brienne’s back. 

“Tyrion is here to bear witness. I told him that there was no need, but he insisted.” Her voice had been flat, stern. She had turned on her heels, faced him, and pulled out her sword from its sheath, the metal scraping against metal had echoed, the sound bouncing between the bare walls. 

“Kneel, Podrick Payne.” He had gotten down on one knee in front of Brienne, gazing up at her, and she had proceeded to lay her sword on his left shoulder, her eyes boring into his. “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.” 

She had shifted the metal of her blade to his right shoulder, carefully placing it down, mindful of the sharpness of the sword's edge. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.” 

She had switched shoulders again, the metal of the sword gliding in the air. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” She placed her sword back into her scabbard before she had stated her last words, “Arise, Podrick Payne, a knight of the Six Kingdoms.” 

One month after your departure, Brienne had knighted Podrick. After this, she and Tyrion took him to see Bran, just as he had requested one day prior. The King had asked him to prove his fighting skills, suggesting he spar against his teacher, “Lord Brienne has trained you and I have no doubts in her skill, I am sure you are more than qualified. It is just a formality. I’m sure you understand, Ser Podrick.” 

“Of course, your Grace.” 

They had stepped out into a large somewhat empty clearing to give the two knights the space they required, and Podrick had proved his swordsmanship by fighting the blonde, King Bran being more than satisfied after seeing him hold his own against Brienne’s powerful blows. 

“That’s quite enough. I can tell Lord Brienne would floor you if we kept going and I need you both in prime health. Approach and kneel.” 

Podrick, who had read every book the word ‘knight’ was mentioned in and who had Brienne teach him everything she knew, had gotten down on one knee, and sworn the oath of the King's Guard, just like the tall woman had the day before. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold on lands, father no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

“Arise.” 

With this, Podrick had been integrated into the King's Guard and Tyrion had taken him away for measurements. Brienne had asked Bran what she was to do until the resources for reparations arrived, and he had in turn told her to assess the damage done to the armory, and see if anything needed to be replaced. And to update the Book of Brothers: to complete Jaime’s entry, and add her own. She had done so with haste. 

Two weeks later, the supplies arrived in Kings Landing which was still in ruins. She, together with Tyrion, had met them at the Gate of the Gods, which was a large hole in a wall after the dragon attack, clad in her new shiny gold armor with extensive white enameling and a white cloak draped over her tall form. 

She had come to stand by Tyrion’s side to discuss something, but he had asked her to stay when she moved to leave his side, it was mostly so she could act as a waypoint, of sorts, for the convoy. It was also so he could analyze her up close. 

The small council had held a meeting and discussed what would come next, the reparations of the kingdom had been a unanimous agreement. They had wanted to rebuild the brothels first, but Brienne had quickly expressed her disapproval at the thought of prioritizing them over the rebuilds of the royal fleet, which clearly took precedence due to the lack of ships following the war. 

The four months that followed after the arrival of the supplies were filled with Brienne overlooking some of the construction whenever she didn’t have anything else to do and performing her Lord Commander duties; whatever they ended up being, they varied from larger decisions to smaller ones. 

Some days she just spent her hours in the armory, polishing and sharpening every sword; and some she spent in the White Sword Tower, either re-reading previous entries in the Book of Brothers or residing in her quarters. 

She was so busy with her new duties that she did not have the time to respond to your ravens, even if she could gather the emotional strength to do so. 

Five months after your separation, Bran had requested her attention, sending Tyrion to collect her. 

He had found her in the armory taking inventory of the same gear she had checked the day before. When asked, she told everyone it was to ‘make sure no one stole anything’ but it was really to keep her mind occupied with something other than you who plagued her mind day in and day out, even in her slumber. 

“The King wishes to speak with you, Lord Brienne.” Tyrion interrupted her almost obsessive counting, arriving when she had finished sharpening the last sword. He stood in the doorway as he watched her get up from the stool she was sitting on, put away the sword she was holding, and walk towards him. 

“Of course, Lord Hand. Lead the way.” 

The walk was quiet, for the most part. Brienne was content with the silence, Tyrion; not so much. 

“Forgive me for being informal, Lord Commander, but; what is the matter with you?” The question staggered Brienne, her entire being stalling for one second, too stunned to move, before she continued her prior movements, resuming her stroll by the shorter man's side. 

“Pardon?” She knew exactly what he was referring to. Her behavior had been strange, to say the least. Erratically counting and whetting, staring off into space, and getting lost in her own thoughts. Brienne had always been a bit unusual and turned in towards herself, but it had been even more so these last couple of months. 

“Brienne. I can promise you that no one is stealing weapons from the armory during the night in peacetime. The armory which, need I remind you, is locked up with you as the key holder. So, what the hell is your issue?” Tyrion had stopped right outside the building Bran was currently in, glaring up at Brienne with furrowed brows and caring eyes. 

“I-” she released an elongated sigh, “I do not wish to talk about it. What does the King need to speak to me about?” Switching the subject to the reason she was standing there with him in the first place, hoping to remove herself from the theme she wasn’t entirely comfortable conversing with Tyrion about. 

The shorter man let out a sigh, admitting defeat, knowing he wasn’t getting anything out of her. “I do not know. He did not tell me.”  

“Very well.” With this, Brienne pushed past the shorter man who was left standing in place, annoyed at the taller woman’s stubbornness, which seemed to be an ongoing theme nowadays. 

Her white cloak flowed behind her as she navigated her way through the corridors, her steps echoing in the empty hallways. 

“Lord Brienne!” Bran called her name as she entered the room he was residing in, stopping what he had been doing before she arrived, “I’m glad you’re here. I have something to ask of you.”  

The blonde knight quickly kneeled before him and he just as quickly ushered her up to her feet, claiming there was no need for such formalities. Brienne didn’t quite understand why but complied either way. “Sire, what can I do for you?” 

“I need you and Ser Podrick to escort a shipment from Planky Town. You will travel there by ship, collect the shipment, and bring it back. I’ve already spoken to Davos, and he has given you temporary command of one of his ships. It’s an incredibly rare material and I need my best men on it. I know it’s different from your usual duties but treat this mission the way you would any other.” 

The thought process that went through Brienne's head after Bran had started speaking was: Planky Town – Dorne – you. There was a hurricane of emotions whirling around inside of her that destroyed anything in its path, and as in every hurricane, the eye was quiet, which allowed her to process the whirlwind. 

She was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally visit Dorne, and maybe, if the Gods were good, cross paths with you. She was also guilty and terrified at the thought of meeting you again. Running into you after ignoring your messages for months would surely prove to be an unpleasant experience. You’d surely be angry, disappointed, and upset; all at her. But at least she would get to see you, even if it was with you staring daggers her way. 

Her mind was racing, running faster than it ever had and Brienne couldn’t keep up. Until a noise ripped her out of her thoughts, permitting her to catch up to her sprinting brain. The door behind her opened and closed, signaling that someone else had entered the room. This was when she realized she had been standing still and in silence for far too long, Bran looking at her with an unreadable expression as he waited for her response. 

“Yes. Of course, Your Grace. When do we depart?” Brienne remained as professional and stoic as usual, even when her mind was anything but. She had zoned out again, become lost in her own thoughts like a scared little girl getting lost in the woods with no way out. 

“Tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the docks by then.” 

“Yes. Anything else?” 

“No. You are dismissed, Lord Brienne.” After vocalizing the command, Bran looked away from the Lord Commander and went back to his previous activity. Whatever that was hadn’t been observed by the blue-eyed knight, and she simply couldn’t be bothered to find out. 

She bowed before taking her exit, passing Tyrion as she left the room. He looked at her warm-heartedly, giving her the smallest of smiles and a small nod which she didn’t reciprocate, a scowl painted on her lips. 

If she wasn’t so focused on keeping the hurricane inside of her in check, and on preventing any tells to leak out of her hardened exterior onto her face, she would have given him the same back. Instead, she just kept her mind set on maintaining a straight face. 

The second the heavy door closed behind her, she let the stone face fall, and an intrigued smile replaced her former frown. Her booted footsteps echoed in the barren hallways as she went back the way she came, her long white cloak floating behind her. 

“Dorne, huh?”  

——— 

You rolled up what must have been the twentieth message for Brienne, before strapping the scroll to your raven. It was a warm day in Lemonwood, as it was every day in Dorne, the Summer Sea waves hitting against the cliff side breaking the pleasant silence of the early Sunday morning. 

Your raven, Bartholomew (actually named Branoc by your parents, but you thought that was a little bit boring), was sent on its way and you sat at your desk, watching the bird as it flapped its coal-black wings, carrying yet another message for your love. 

The usual distant bustling noise of Planky Town had yet to begin, it was still too early but you and your mother had a shipment to meet. No rest for the traders. 

Your family had since your great-great-great grandfather been a part of a large trading company, landing you as one of the wealthier families in Westeros.  

The business had been passed through generations and now it had landed on your mother's lap. You were delighted to assist her for however long she needed you but the longing and yearning for Brienne’s touch was getting to be too much. You needed to get back to her. 

Sighing, you put your stationary, ink, and quill away, before rising from your seated position at your desk. The armor you had worn in Winterfell had been swapped out for a more heat friendly one. Specially crafted to allow breathing and protection, the Dornish colors decorate the leather gear. 

It rested on the stand in your room, the fur coat and cold-resistant steel armor gathering dust in one of your closets. You hadn’t laid eyes on either of the items since you disregarded them five months ago. 

The trip here had been a long one, riding along Kings Road before turning onto Rivers Road; before finally arriving in Lannisport just west of Riverrun. Once there, you were able to hop on one of your family’s trading ships, taking you back to Planky Town. 

The only comfortable way to Dorne when traveling from another kingdom, was by ship. The terrain and road through the Red Mountains were unforgiving and extremely hard to traverse and there was no way you were putting yourself through that. The ride through the barren desert after the mountains wasn’t all that inviting either. 

The difference in climate had hit you right away, the searing sun of Dorne not quite the same as the biting chill of The North. Your fur coat had been discarded soon after passing The Trident and turning onto the road that led you to your destination. It rained moderately in the Riverlands, therefore, you had to take it off to insure its dryness.  

When it started raining, like you had expected it to do, you had to take a break, seeking shelter under the protecting crowns of the trees. The fur coat proved quite useful as an extra blanket during the cool nights, and you pretended that it was the warm embrace of Brienne enveloping you instead of the cloak. 

After you had boarded the ship in Lannisport, you were able to take off your armor for the first time in days, letting the cool breeze of the sea wash over you. The familiar salty smell of the ocean reminding you of your childhood. 

The sound of knocking on your door pulled you out of your reminiscent state. Quickly pulling yourself to the present, you took large strides toward your door and opened it in a swift and controlled motion. 

You were met with the weary and tired eyes of your mother, she hadn’t slept well since the passing of your father, and you couldn’t blame her, neither had you. 

The sleeplessness was a combination of the grief from losing your father and the loss of Brienne's warmth. You had slept in her arms only once, but that singular time was enough to have your body aching for more affection from the tall blonde woman. 

Most of this you wrote about in your messages. The messages she couldn’t even be bothered to open because if she did, she would realize you missed her so. That you would leave as soon as you weren’t needed, and that you would return to her arms as fast as humanly possible. 

“Good morning, Mother.” Your voice was softer than usual, it always was around your mother nowadays, scared that any other tone would disrupt the mourning process she had begun. 

Her voice was weak, frail. Throat hoarse from crying, “Good morning. Just wanted to see if you were awake.” She did this every morning. Checking up on you. She did it when you were growing up and continued doing so when you returned. It was an even more comforting action this time around, serving as a reminder that you had each other to lean on. 

“I am, have you eaten?” Your mother's eating habits had been on the rocks lately, too busy with the business that she simply forgot to eat, sometimes she didn’t want to, her appetite gone. So, you asked her, every day, if she had eaten. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes she said no. 

“Yes. Have you?”  

You hummed in response to her question, “I ate when I woke up, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just need to gear up.” 

Your mother nodded, “I will wait for you in the carriage.” With this, she turned around and left. Making her descent down the carpet-clad stone stairs. 

After closing the door, you walked to your armor stand by your window that overlooked the Summer Sea and began removing each piece, attaching them to your form. 

As you put on your leather armor, you watched as ships of many different sizes sailed past your window, floating on the sea in the searing hot Dorne sun. The sun's rays invaded your room, casting it a beautiful golden glow, and warming your skin; the pleasant smell of the sea like a comforting blanket over you. 

Some of the sailing ships came from the west and some from the east. Some were sailing for trading companies, and some were sailing for travel. Their flags and sails fluttered in the warm air, hulls breaking through the water. 

Eventually, all the leather gear had been secured to your form, the last part had been your sword, and with everything in place, you abandoned your room; briskly walked down the same stairs your mother had, and stepped out into the warmth of the morning. 

Your mother stood by the carriage, conversing with the coachman. The sight of you approaching interrupted their conversation, the coachman opening the door to the roofed wheelhouse. Allowing your mother to enter and closing it once she had sat down inside. 

The carriage did not have any windows except for some small springs, meaning you didn’t have a good view of the scenery and environment around you. So, to make sure you were able to keep a look out for potential dangers, you sat up front with the coachman. 

You did not mind doing so however, he was a very interesting man with many stories to tell and you often enjoyed the chats you had with him. 

The ride to Planky Town wasn’t long, your ancestors chose to settle in Lemonwood for the short travel distance, taking into account that the port was a regular visit. 

On the way there you passed several travelers, and you recognized most of them as inhibitors of the other nearby settlements. You didn’t know any of them particularly well, only having met them a few times during formal events. Still being familiar with them and wanting to show civility; short pleasantries were exchanged before continuing your journey. 

It didn’t take long for the lively sound of the now awake port town to reach you, the familiar sight of the Greenblood river opening its mouth in front of you, running out into the vast sea. 

As every Sunday, it was reserved for shipment collection, meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as it usually was the rest of the weekdays. Despite this, there was still a large number of people going about their business of resupplying or trading. 

The coachman stopped your carriage a distance away from the docks as he usually did to prevent blocking the road. He stepped off to open the door for your mother, who had stayed silent during the ride as she usually did. 

You stepped off after him, watching your mother exit the wheelhouse, and walked up to her side, hand on the hilt of your sword and back straight. You were here as a traders’ child, yes, but you were also a knight. 

It wasn’t often that you were asked to make your rounds down here, yet on rare occasions you were. Even when you weren’t here on such business you still wanted to keep up appearances, you knew Brienne would. 

Shooting your coachman a nod and a smile, you linked your mothers' arm with your own and started trekking toward the docked ships. “Is it the usual today?” Wanting to make conversation, you asked your mother something that would pull her out of the damaging mindset she had surely found herself in. 

“Yes. Meet the shipment, and see that everything is as it should, some is unloaded here to be sold, rest is shipped to other port towns to be distributed by our partners.” It was like clockwork by now, and you knew it by heart, your mother knew that you did and found it kind of you to ask. She knew why you did and appreciated the distraction from her thoughts. 

A quick hum was all you gave in response, your steps taking you closer to the harbor until you reached the docked trader ship. Letting go of your mother's arm you turned to look at her, “I will stay on land and take a look around. Wait here until I come back.” 

She gave a quick nod before she stepped onto the wooden vessel, you saw your mother meet the captain and he in turn gave her the inventory list for her to check off. You began turning on your heel to walk away but before you could, something caught your eye. A ship from the royal fleet. 

It hadn’t been the ship in itself that stopped you, it had been the person you saw on board it. You had seen her faster than you cared to admit, almost like your eyes had been searching for her. 

She was standing as robust as she had done the first time you saw her when you first arrived in Winterfell. Her hands behind her back, the wind blowing through her short blonde curls; the white fabric that draped down her figure danced in the Summer Sea wind. 

She stood on the quarter deck, donned in her gold-white armor that reflected the sunlight, she looked so handsome in it, so at home. She was a White Sword, this you were aware of, but you were still nonplussed to see it, to have it verified. 

You were so used to seeing her in her dark armor. The dark armor that she had worn during the duration of your stay, the armor that you had begun to associate with her. Seeing her in anything else but, was an abnormal sight. 

As the ship inched closer and closer to the docks, you saw that there was detailing on her chest piece, a raven. Fitting for the three-eyed ravens' Kings Guard. 

From what you could percept, Oathkeeper still sat loyally at her side, and you wondered how she had taken the news of Ser Jaime's death. You knew that they had been... relatively close, she had described their relationship as ‘an unexpected companionship,’ which was really her fancy (and courteous) way of saying ‘it was a war, he was an extra sword, we spent time together because we had to.’ 

Truth was, Brienne didn’t take the announcement of his passing that hard. Still too focused on the loss of you. In her mind, she had tolerated Jaime, not seeing him as a close friend, and therefore did not feel the need to mourn him. 

The grief from your departure was still a fresh wound in her heart and even if she did feel the need to shed tears for him, it would be too overwhelming to do so for two people at the same time, and she refused to put you aside to lament Jaime Lannister who meant so little to her. So, it was an easy choice for her. You took precedence over everything else. 

You were frozen in place, watching her as she stood tall and proud. Anger bubbled up inside of your chest, along with sadness and betrayal. Yet at the same time, you were so gleeful to see her again after such a long time, and even though you wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace; the fact that she hadn’t responded to your ravens in months stood true. 

You didn’t want to see her, and you did not want to speak with her. With the feelings running amuck inside of you, you feared that if put face to face with her you’d say some things that you couldn’t take back. Hurting her even more than you had already done; ruining any chances of ever reconciliating and returning to each other's arms. For now, the best choice was to leave and blend in with the crowd before she could spot you, but it was too late. 

The second her ship had docked, and she had stepped onto land, she had seen you. Her intense blue eyes locked on to yours and the moment they did, they flashed with what looked like regret and guilt. 

It was too much to handle, the same blue irises that kept you up at night, that haunted your dreams, were now staring at you in such a way that made your heart twist inside of your chest. 

Her mouth was hanging open the tiniest bit, eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised to see you. If there weren’t so many thoughts swirling around in your head, you were sure that you would match her expression, shocked to see her down here. Shocked to see her at all. 

Your head was a battle arena, your thoughts fighting, trying to bring you back to your senses, to help you make a decision, and fast. The one who ended up coming on top was the one for before, the one telling you to leave; the one telling you to run to her getting left in the mud. 

You started to walk towards the crowd, planning to disappear in the swirl of people but Brienne was taller than most people there and was able to periscope over everyone, meaning you and your Dornish leather armor stood out like a beacon on a dark night. 

She started to follow you, Podrick trailing behind her trying to keep up with her broad strides. The continuous stream of people helped with keeping a distance between the three of you, but there were only so many traders and merchants, and you eventually reached a clearing, close to where your carriage was parked. 

There was no hiding from her now. 

The familiar voice of Brienne called your name, shivers running down your spine at hearing it for the first time in five months. You had forgotten what she sounded like, just how beautiful and deep her voice was, how the accent compliments it in the most fantastic way, working in harmony to make everything she said sound like poetry. 

“Stop!” you didn’t obey her command, instead, you kept moving forward. Her steps picked up, her long legs faster than yours, and before you could process her closing in on you, her hand grabbed your wrist, pulling at it slightly causing you to abruptly stop, and turn around. 

Suddenly, the only thing in your vision was her piercing eyes as they searched your face for any sign of forgiveness, love, or adoration; only finding the same stone-cold expression you had worn when your eyes met minutes ago. 

She had hoped that her proximity and touch would bring back the soft expression you used to have for her. It did not. Instead, you rejected her touch. Ripping your wrist away from her grasp, almost aggressively so, almost like her touch was hot coal burning you through your protective leather gear. 

She gazed down at you, a silent plea behind them for you to speak to her, to say anything. Just wanting to hear your voice. You in return stared up defiantly at her, displaying your anger by taking a step back, distancing yourself from her. She took this as a confirmation that you had become repulsed by her, just like everyone else; her weakness and pure selfishness had caused you to despise her. 

In truth, the moment she had gotten close, the all too addicting scent of her had invaded your senses, making it so much harder to stay focused. The step back was to display anger, yes, but also to step away from the inebriation that was the smell of Brienne. 

“Ser Brienne.” You spoke stiffly, your face full of indifference. She remained neutral, but to you, she was an open book. The way you said her name hadn’t gone unnoticed by the blonde, and you saw the flash of hurt in her eyes when you said her name. The usual affection you held for her wasn’t there anymore, and she completely understood why. 

She opened her mouth to say something, getting interrupted by Podrick before she could, “It’s actually Lord Commander-” Brienne held up a hand, successfully interrupting him back, but not before you heard her new title. Lord Commander, huh? 

“Ser Podrick! Do you not recognize them?” So, this was the Podrick you had heard so much about. He was shorter than you expected him to be, but maybe that was because he stood next to one of the tallest people in Westeros; she made anyone look short. 

She had broken your eye contact to stare at the younger knight with her usual glare. He looked at you once again, observing you. The second it clicked; his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh.’ He cleared his throat before mumbling a silent apology to both you and Brienne. 

“Go and wait for the shipment. Leave us.” The Lord Commanders' voice was harsh, leaving no room for objections. 

“Yes, My Lord.” He rushed off, leaving you and Brienne alone. She turned her head back to yours the instant Podrick disappeared out of sight into the flow of people. 

“Lord Commander?” The voice that exited your mouth was incredulous. You couldn’t believe your ears. She had been appointed the highest position in the King's Guard and secured a spot on the King's Council, and you hadn’t been informed. The love of your life hadn’t told you of a major update in her life. 

“Yes.”  

“You were appointed Lord Commander of the King's Guard and I find out today. How long?” You almost did not want to ask. Not wanting to know how long she had been keeping this from you. 

You hoped she would say 'a couple of weeks’ or ‘about a month’ because then you would understand the lack of communication. You were understanding of the task of taking on a new title and the job that came with it. If she was in the beginning phases, you would have understood. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite. 

“About four months...” 

“Four months-! You are unbelievable, Lord Commander.” You spat her title back at her, there was such wretchedness in your voice, such wrath. What you had feared was just a couple words ahead, the fear that you would say something that would be irreversible. There was no closing the gates of Hell now. 

“Please just call me Brienne, like you used to.” Her voice had shifted into a gentler one, attempting to diffuse the situation. You scoffed at her. Was she really trying to ‘go back to the way it used to be’ after making no effort in communicating with you at all? 

“I don’t know if I want to refer to you as anything anymore.” There it was. The gates had been opened, and anything coming out after this was meant to hurt. Meant to drive a knife into her stomach and twist it. Disbelief spread through your being, so irritated at her for just assuming you’d forget everything that had happened. Both of which were perceivable in your tone. 

“Please, if you would just let me explain-” Desperation was evident in her voice, her entire face softening, her eyes imploring for you to please listen, to please forgive her. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her excuses; not before you had said your piece. 

“Explain what, huh? Explain how you couldn’t let go of your pride to send me something back? A simple ‘hello, it is I, Brienne of Tarth,’” you tried your best to copy her speaking voice, it falling short, “once a month would have sufficed because then I would have known that you were alive!”  

You took a breath before continuing, keeping your voice steady, tears threatening to well up. 

“Instead, I had to get that sign of life from Sansa! Do you understand how much that pained me? That you could not let go of your stubbornness for two seconds to let me know of your damn relocation to Kings Landing by yourself! Why?” Glaring up at her, you panted, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to read about your life without me…” Her voice was quiet, almost like she was ashamed to admit her reasons for not responding. At her admission, your wrath eased up. You weren’t furious at her anymore, but there was still the agonizing pain of being ignored by someone who you love so much, and whom you care for so. “I know, it was unreasonable, irrational, intolerant of me. I am aware.” 

She continued her explanation, “I really wanted to, read your messages, that is. Because I missed you terribly, and love you so, but it would have hurt too much. Then after I was appointed my new position and title I had so much to do, and I was so stressed, and I didn’t have the time to reply.” She was trying her best to stay strong, or at least for it to look like she was but she was moments away from a breakdown. 

You kept eye contact the entire time, seeing when tears were starting to form in her eyes, and you were suddenly extremely aware of how exposed you two were. “I’m sorry.” Her last words were a whisper, barely audible, voice breaking. 

She then broke eye contact, tilting her head down, fixing her gaze on the sandy ground. You glanced around you, seeing that your carriage was only a couple of feet away. It gave you the perfect escape plan. 

You took her by the hand, dragging her towards your carriage with a quick ‘come with me.’ The sudden, unexpected contact made Brienne’s head snap up, meeting the back of your head with her blurry vision. She needed privacy, you couldn’t let everyone see the Lord Commander break down in public, so you had to shelter her. It also provided you with a quieter place to speak. 

You asked the coachman to go make himself busy before ushering Brienne into the wheelhouse, you following suit, closing and locking the door behind you. Quickly covering all the springs in your immediate vision with its individual curtain. 

The second you sat down across from her, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands as loud sobs wrecked through her, much like the ones you had heard by the stables as you rode away. 

Your anger and pain had quickly subsided when you had heard her entire reasoning, and when you saw how guilty she felt. There was no need to be mad at her, you didn’t think you could be anymore. 

Relieving yourself from your sword sheathe, you pondered, unsure if you should remain seated across from her, or if you should move to sit by her side. You couldn’t comfort her all those months ago, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do it now. 

Quickly maneuvering across the carriage, you took a seat next to Brienne, taking off her scabbard before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to you, her becoming flush against your side. She hadn’t expected the abrupt intimacy, it was a welcome one, especially after feeling nothing for so many days. 

Her arms flew around your waist, her face burying itself into your leather-covered chest. Your free hand came up to Brienne’s head, softly stroking her hair as the other gently caressed her upper arm. Her armor made it a little lumpy, but you did not care. Having her back in your arms after so long was an incredible feeling, and you couldn’t believe how you had made it this long without her warmth. 

Her sobbing was relentless, tears flowing down her face and dropping onto your legs. Your leather tasset had gradually shifted down the side of your upper thighs in your seated position, revealing your tunic trousers underneath. 

Brienne repeated the same phrase, over and over again through wails. Saying how sorry she was, how she hoped you could forgive her. You in turn answered with reassurance. Telling her that you accepted her apology, that she was forgiven. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Brienne’s cries eventually died down, rendering the small space silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from the blonde beside you. Her head had been removed from your chest and she now sat upright. You still had your arm around her, hand resting on her armored bicep. 

The hand that had been stroking her hair was now holding hers, entwined hands resting in between yours and Brienne’s thighs. Your thumb lazily drawing lines on the scarred skin. 

“Are you alright?” The softness had returned to your voice, the love and tenderness had as well, and the Commander noticed. She was soothed by your question because it meant you still cared enough to check in on her. That lit a light in Brienne’s tunnel of misery; there was still something left to save, to rebuild. 

“Yes. Especially now that I’m back in your arms.” She turned her head to look at you, you doing the same and offering her a soft smile which she returned. As you took in her tear-stained face and red puffy eyes, you were smacked with the remembrance of your earlier words, words that shouldn’t have been uttered. 

  “I’m really sorry for what I said back there. I was filled with fury, and I didn’t mean it. I always want to refer to you, dear Brienne.” Voice low to avoid disrupting the peace, your voice was gentler. A strong contrast to the cutting tone you had used outside. You brought her held hand up to your face to place a peck on the back of it, relishing in the feeling of her skin against your lips once again. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you either way.” You dropped yours and Brienne’s hands into your lap and released a sigh of relief hearing her words. Silence settled in again as you gazed into each other's eyes. The blonde's sapphire blues darted down to your lips and back up to your eyes, just like they had that night in the courtyard almost one year ago. She wanted to kiss you, and you needed her to. “You know, I really did miss you. A lot.” It was nothing more than a whisper, a breath of desire. 

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too. Now shut up and kiss me, please.” Brienne giggled at your eagerness and avidity and was quick to oblige to your wish. She turned her body towards you, legs shifting to be able to face you as comfortably as possible, hand coming up to cup your cheek, head diving in fast to capture your lips, eyes falling shut before colliding. 

The second her lips connected with yours, a contented and allayed moan escaped Brienne’s throat. She had longed for, craved, and missed you for so many months, all the tension and sorrow built up inside of her melting away the moment your lips touched. It was even more heavenly than she had recalled. One of your hands flew up to the side of her neck, your body shifting to copy the way she sat. 

It was like you never left, lips moving together in familiarity. Brienne’s tongue swiped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it. Her wet, strong muscle started exploring your mouth the second you parted your lips. The feeling of her tongue wrestling with yours along with the familiar taste of her, made you release a low moan; she tasted even better than you had remembered. 

The taste of you, the feeling of your tongue sliding against hers, your soft whimpers as she expertly moved her lips with yours like a dance, elegant and controlled like a waltz, but passionate and heated like a tango. A dance of the love and yearning you contained for the other. All of it took over her senses, her brain going into overdrive, her mewling against your lips. 

The hand that was holding on to Brienne’s broke away from the grasp, moving to find purchase in the blonde's hair. It was already disheveled from the salty ocean wind, hair slightly curled from the humidity in the air; your hand running through it wouldn’t make it worse. It wouldn’t be odd for her hair to be out of place considering the strong coast gust. 

Your fingers started at the nape of her neck, slowly moving upwards until they stopped at the back, curling them in her tresses, gathering a fistful of her hair in your hand. Brienne hummed against your mouth at the feeling of your digits in her hair once again, and the hand that had been abandoned by yours grabbed onto your waist, palm gently resting on your side. 

Your lips pulled apart, but you still kept the contact, foreheads leaning against the others, eyes shut as you regained your breath. “I really did miss you. I was hoping to show you just how much...” Brienne spoke between heavy breaths. 

You did not miss the glint of seduction in her voice or the innuendo. During the make-out session the all too familiar heat grew between your legs and your body craved her touch, as it had for months. But right here, in a carriage in a port town when you both had responsibilities? 

“Brienne...” Breathing out her name and meaning to remind her of your current area; you weren’t able to complete the rest of your sentence before she interrupted you. 

“Look at me,” you removed your head from hers and opened your eyes, meeting Brienne’s that were already staring back at you, her blue irises as deep and breathtaking as the galaxy, filled with stars and planets of her own. They were truly remarkable and gorgeous; fitting for someone like her. “I have craved you for so long. I don’t know how long it will be until we meet again. Let me make it up to you. Let me erase the past five months of misery. Let me do this so we can have something to last us until we can guarantee proximity to each other. Please.” 

The hand in her blonde curls transferred to her cheek, gently holding and stroking her flushed skin with your thumb. Her eyes were pleading as was her voice, wanting to remove the memories of pain and replace them with ones of pleasure; and you wanted that too. 

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before nodding, “that sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more.” At your confirmation, Brienne’s lips turned up into the biggest grin much like the one she wore after your first kiss, and she was on her knees on the wooden floor shortly after; her hands resting on your legs. 

“I’ve never done this before. All I know is that I want to make you feel good.” She gazed up at you as she spoke. She was insecure, as was obvious in her voice and her eyes, but also determined, not letting uncertainty scare her away. “Tell me if it feels good and what I can do to bring you maximum pleasure.” 

“I will.” 

The woman on her knees before you started undressing you. Starting with your boots, before wedging her hands under your leather chest cover to unstrap your tasset that was hindering access to the buckle of your trousers. 

Throwing a look at the door to the carriage to make sure it was locked, you noticed that one of the springs hadn’t been covered by the sheer curtain. As you stood up to close it, Brienne’s fingers undid the metal of your pants, pulling them down at the same time as you pulled the curtain down. 

You were now completely out of sight; the problem was, so was the outside world, and if your mother decided to forego your escort to make the trek back herself; she’d find you in one hell of a position. 

You prayed to the old Gods and the new that your mother would stay put, or that inventory would take longer than usual so that she didn’t hear you reconnecting with your love. Sure, she knew about Brienne and the relationship you had, it was one of the first things you had talked about when you got home, but you didn’t want your mothers' first impression of the much taller knight to be her in between your legs. 

Brienne’s hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled down, causing you to meet the seat with an unexpected speed, she was impatient, and you understood why. She had already spent too much time away from her mission and Podrick, and sooner or later, he would come looking for her, and would no doubt find her considering her last known position and your family’s carriage being mere feet away. Time was of the essence, and you couldn’t afford to waste any of it. 

Heavy breathing came from the woman in front of you as she placed her hands back onto your knees and gently spread them, being faced with your soaked underwear. She had never seen your sex before, felt it, sure, but never seen. She hadn’t tasted you either and she was practically drooling at the thought of finally doing so. 

Tentative and curious hands slowly traveled up your legs, stopping at the hem of your undergarments. Hooking her fingers inside and motions for you to elevate your hips slightly. Lifting your hips for easy discarding, she pulled them down in one motion, revealing your needy cunt to her hungry, dilated eyes. 

She was if in a trance, watching with such intensity you feared her eyes would pop out of her skull. You nudged her shoulder with your knee, causing her to snap her gaze to yours. Her pupils were blown-out, darkened from lust and desire. The air was thick inside of the small space and you could practically sense her ferocity as it emanated from her person.  

She looked so pretty like this on her knees for you, looking up at you with virtuous eyes. So ready and willing to serve; to satisfy your needs. Reaching out a hand, you took hold of her chin, guiding her face closer to your core, she needed a little helping hand. “You look so good right now, pretty girl. On your knees for me. So ready to do whatever I wish, hmm.” 

Brienne could only offer a nod in response, your words and low, vibrating voice combined with your dominating tone. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would give out and she’d fall to the floor. But since she already was kneeling on the wooden boards, she gave out a tiny whine instead, forgetting just how much power your words had over her. 

The scent of your arousal was overwhelming, your pussy radiating such heat, Brienne being able to sense it all when you had brought her face close enough to the apex of your inner thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to taste you, something she had wanted for such a long time; completely missing out on her chance before you left. She thought she had all the time in the world with you, how was she supposed to know you were leaving the same night she had intended to feast on you. 

So, the fact remained: you had tasted her; she hadn’t tasted you and she was so desperate to finally know how your wet flesh would feel against her tongue. Desperate to gain familiarity with the sensation she thought she would have experienced months ago when she had planned it. 

After you had eaten her out and gotten into bed together, her mind had started wondering what you’d taste like and that she’d propose to perform oral on you the next day during your midnight meeting, but then you left, and she never did find out what you tasted like. 

Finally, five months later. She would finally know just how wonderful you’d taste. 

“Use your tongue, my sweet girl. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts.” You stroked Brienne’s skin softly before sliding your hand to the back of her head, leg coming up to lay on her shoulder, foot resting on her back. Your other hand was placed beside you, using the seat as support. 

She licked her lips, mumbling ‘what a pretty little pussy’ before finally diving in, shutting her eyes, and allowing her intuition to take over. She licked a careful stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling it slowly before closing her mouth around it, lightly sucking. Her tongue was a godsend, so strong and oh was she good at using it. 

You released a soft whimper, mindful to keep quiet considering your whereabouts but still wanting to let her know just how good she was making you feel. Your head leaned against the wall behind you, but your eyes were locked on Brienne’s between your legs, moving slightly as she used her skillful mouth on you. 

Your fingers grabbed at her hair, wanting to hold her in place as her tongue flicked over your clit and you refrained from pushing her closer; wanting her to do it on her own terms. You were sure that if she made you come with minimal help from you, her confidence would boost and that would exponentially heighten the chances of her giving head more often in the future, maybe even initiate it. 

Even though you wanted her to learn by doing, she had requested you to tell her how to make you feel good, and that was what you intended to do. 

Her arms were snaked around your thighs, hands resting where hip and leg met. She switched between sucking and licking, sometimes doing both, drawing out all kinds of noises from you. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” Even when she was pleasuring you, she was still submissive and in need of praise and assurance, and you were more than happy to provide all of those things for her. “Try- Try adding more pressure with your tongue.” 

A vibrating sensation exited Brienne’s mouth as she moaned against your clit at hearing your praise, causing your body to jerk and you to hold back a loud groan. She wanted to be validated, to be told she was doing a good job. This only applied to the sex part of her life, however, as she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, well, not anymore at least; her childhood self would disagree. 

The only person’s opinion she cared about besides maybe the professional opinions of her King, were yours. She wanted you to think highly and goodly of her, in all aspects of her life, be it professional, personal, or intimate, and you did. This she knew, it still felt good to hear you say it though. 

Brienne’s eyes which had been screwed shut the entire time suddenly opened, looking up at you with curious eyes. She wanted to see how you’d react to all of her following ministrations, fascination, and wonder glinting in her beautiful eyes. 

She took your advice and adjusted accordingly, placing her tongue flat on your clit with the pressure to go with and dragged her tongue up, making you drawl out a throaty moan. “Oh, Gods! Feels so fucking good, so fucking good.” Your words were slurred, your voice low to avoid it being heard by anyone else than Brienne, your heavy breaths and hums only growing more and more ragged as the woman betwixt your legs worked her wet muscle against you. 

You’d had your share of love affairs before but that was nothing compared to this. The feeling of getting eaten out by the love of your life was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Not even the meetings you used to have as a young adult in the local bathhouses felt as good as this did. 

Brienne was a beginner but a very quick learner, and she knew exactly how to pleasure you because she knew you and your body, playing it masterfully, playing it like an instrument; like she hadn’t done anything else. 

She was devoted to your pleasure, devoted to worshipping you and your pussy with her tongue. Nothing else mattered in this specific moment, only the feeling of your legs shuttering, your moany whimpers, and your fingers twisting in her hair did. 

The sounds inside the wheelhouse were right out of a brothel, moans mixed with the wet noises coming from Brienne as she used her mouth on you. She murmured against your clit, a whisper mostly to herself, but you had heard it too, “You taste so fucking good...” Her words combined with the intense eye contact made your head spin, your insides turning in the most pleasant way. 

Every stroke, lick, kiss, and suck from the blonde brought you closer to the edge of climax, the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach, legs twitching and hips bucking with every ripple of pure bliss that went through your body. The release was barreling towards you like a wild buck and you were so ready for the collision, ready to get sent into an endless vortex of pleasure. 

During the five months that you and Brienne had been apart, more and more tension began to build up inside of you, a knot forming in your stomach. You often found yourself thinking of that morning in the baths or the night before, and it never failed to make you a throbbing mess. You never found the time to rid yourself of it, so it just continued to grow, the knot only getting tighter. 

Months' worth of pent-up tension releasing would equal in an orgasm the size of a tsunami washing over you and you were made aware of this fact as the band inside of you tightened, and tightened, until it eventually snapped, untying the knot at the same time. 

Waves upon waves of ecstasy poured over you as your body convulsed with pleasure. Your back was arching, hips thrashing as you rode Brienne’s face to drag out your orgasm. Her hands that had been resting in the space between thigh and hip pushed down to keep you steadier, but still allowing you to grind against her mouth. 

The hand in the blonde hair loosened as you came down from your peak, stroking her messy curls instead, hoping to smooth down the mess you had surely made of her locks. Brienne had removed her head from your sex, drawing languid circles with her fingers on your skin. Gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at you with awe as they watched your breathing grow steady. 

The Lord Commander leaned back on her heels, your hand sliding off her head as she moved out of your reach, removing herself from your legs, sloping to grab your clothes. Her chin was covered in your juices, and you made a mental note to get that cleaned up before you left the carriage. 

She grabbed your ruined undergarments and reached out a hand to give them to you where you sat, the hand that had been placed flat on the wood beside you the entire session was brought up to push her hand away, “they’re already soaked, you might as well use them to wipe your chin.” A breathless chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, Brienne looking at you comically. 

She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before using a dry part of the cloth to dry her chin, removing any trace of your activities. She reached out a hand with them again and this time you accepted them, putting them on and wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet and cold underwear, luckily you were heading home as soon as your mother was finished, and you could change. 

Your trousers were handed to you shortly after to be put on and buckled, as well as your tasset, and finally your boots. 

“Come here.” Brienne did as she was told and shuffled close to you, kneeling down at your side so you were at eye level. “My beautiful girl,” bringing a hand up to her cheek, you traced her skin with your fingers, inching closer to her face to give her a kiss. 

It was a gentle one, soft and tender, and you could sense the taste of you on her lips. “I love you.” It was a whisper against her lips, a promise for now and the future until you could tell her every day. 

“I love you, too. I do not like the idea that we must leave each other once again,” Brienne let out a sad sigh and turned her head away from you to stare at the carriage door. You were not entirely happy with the situation either but there was nothing to be done until you were no longer needed. “Come with me.” 

Your eyes widened at her words. Had you heard her correctly? “W- What?” Shock was painted across your features, your voice trying to remain steady, but you were too taken aback to bother with that, slightly shaking with perplexity seeping through. 

She turned her head to look at you once again, her expression deadly serious. She wasn’t jesting or posing any what-ifs. “Come with me to Kings Landing. I will ask for King Bran’s attention and request for him to recruit you into the King's Guard. We need more knights, and I know you would be the perfect fit.” This was wishful thinking. The Kings Guard?  

Quickly exhaling and inhaling, your face furrowed together in empathy, you too shared her want to travel to Kings Landing and spend all eternity by her side until death released you from your vows, but your mother needed you. “Brienne, I-” 

“Yes. I know. Your mother. But, please, just. Just consider it.” Her eyes and words were begging, her eyebrows raised in hope, wishing that you’d say yes; that you’d consider it. 

“I will consider it.” The smile that spread on your Commander's lips was infectious, causing you to do the same. Her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, twinkling just the same. They really were as deep and vast as the galaxy, holding just as many uncharted and unexplored areas. 

A knocking on the door caused you and Brienne to snap out of your staring competition, instinctively putting distance between each other, you shooting over to the other side and retrieving your scabbard, the woman across from you doing the same with hers. 

The muffled voice of the coachman came from the outside, signaling that you had been in there for far too long, “Ser! I think your mother is all finished and ready to leave. Is everything alright in there?” You took a quick look at Brienne, her curls strewn across her forehead, and you motioned for her to comb her fingers through her locks to tidy it up a little. 

“Yes, everything is quite alright. We are finished and are coming out. Thank you!” You and Brienne snorted at you using ‘finished’ considering you did just that, you were acting a little immature, laughing at such a thing; but you felt like young adults sneaking around and that earned a tiny bit of immaturity. 

The woman sharing your space looked at you questionably, a silent query asking ‘does my hair look okay?’ you nodding as an answer. 

Quickly pulling aside all the curtains inside the wheelhouse to let the light in, you gave Brienne one last long kiss before opening the door and stepping out into the hot Dorne sun. Your coachman stood outside, eyeing you both, obviously wondering what had taken so long but decided not to ask. 

“Walk with me?” Turning your head to look up at her, Brienne only nodded, letting you take the first step and her following you with steps to match your stride. She often did this when you walked together, coordinating her pace with yours so she wouldn’t race ahead and you not being able to keep up. It was a slight adjustment, but a very thoughtful one. 

When you approached the water-bound vessel your mother was on, she wore the biggest grin as she looked from you to Brienne, her expression a drastic change from the melancholic mood she had adopted as her default since your father passed. 

It was unnerving seeing such a display of teeth after only seeing a frown for so long, but you assumed she recognized the taller woman beside you based on your very detailed explanations of her appearance.  

Your mother stepped off the ship, the captain she had spoken to earlier barking orders to his men to ready the ship so they could transport the rest of the wares as she reached land. 

Brienne had stopped her walk, the same as you, still by your side a couple of feet away from your mother. Close enough that you could hear each other over the cacophony of people, but far enough that your mother wouldn’t be able to tell what you had been doing. 

“Brienne, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lord Commander Brienne.” Your mother had her head slightly cocked to the side, a caring and loving look on her face as you introduced them to each other.  

The situation in which you had told your parents about Brienne had been completely unplanned. It had been on a hot night shortly after your arrival by your father's bedside as he asked you about Winterfell. 

It had only really been a simple question of what your obligations had been, however, the second you had mentioned Brienne’s name, your mother grew intrigued, wanting to probe and prod after hearing the tone and manner of words you used when speaking about the then Ser. 

Her clever questions and your oblivious answers caused you to reveal more than you had intended to, and suddenly your parents knew all about the nature of your relationship.  

“M’Lady.” Your knightly blonde stayed as formal as always to leave a good first impression. Giving your mother a more drawn-out nod, she left her head tilted down longer than she usually did, deciding to be more casual in her greeting considering the fact that it was your parent. 

“So, you’re Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brienne took a panicked glance at you, hoping you hadn’t spoken about the five months of errors on her end that would surely not be appreciated by your mother. You only gave her a reassuring smile back. 

“Just Brienne is fine, and only good things, I hope.” The worry in her voice was obvious to you, it goes unnoticed by your mother. Brienne was good at hiding her true reactions to things when the situation called for it, and this was definitively one of those situations. 

“Brienne it is. Positive things only, my dear. The joy you have brought my child is unmeasurable, and I am so grateful.” A goofy smile spread on the blonde woman's lips, a combination of relief and glee at learning that you had abstained from telling your mother about her shortcomings, if she did know; Brienne was sure your mother wouldn’t be as friendly as she currently was towards her. 

“They have brought me the same amount, M’Lady. Your child is truly exceptional, never met anyone quite like them.” Brienne’s smile changed into a sincere one as she spoke, her voice filled with warmth. Seeing them interact so effortlessly made you all giddy, staring at the tall Commander beside you with a lovestruck expression. 

“Why don’t you come back to Lemonwood with us, Brienne. Have supper with us, maybe spend a few nights at our residence, we’d love to host you.” This was really an excuse for your mother to spend time with your knight, to get to know the person her child had fallen madly in love with. 

If your father were still alive, you were sure he would sit right beside your mother as they asked Brienne question after question. The image in your mind made you smile fondly. Your father really would have loved to meet her, they would find that their opinions matched on many different matters. 

“That sounds very pleasant, and I would love to accept but I am afraid I am unable to. I need to get back to Kings Landing.” The twinge of sadness in her words did not stay hidden from either you or your mother. The reminder that time was not on your side bared itself once again, and no number of prayers could change the fact that you and Brienne had to part. 

“Yes, of course. How unfortunate. Perhaps another time?” Your mother did not back down, she laid out a long-standing offer, meaning that sooner or later, Brienne would sit at her dinner table, and she’d be able to learn all about the mysterious woman before her. 

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. Perhaps if I am dispatched to Dorne for a longer period of time.” You could tell that Brienne was being polite, yet she seemed genuine in her words. The moment she’d set foot inside the walls of your home, you were sure she would come to regret taking your mother up on the offer. She liked her privacy, and your mother liked prodding. Them together was not a feasible pairing. 

“Of course, just send a raven ahead of time so we can prepare, other than that you are always welcome to our home. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Brienne.” She liked the pretty knight, you could tell. You could also tell that she was itching to get on the road, ready to talk your ear off and tease you about your behavior around the blonde. 

It was all with good intentions, something she did when you were young and had an infatuation with someone. 

“You too, M’Lady.” 

“Safe travels.” She spoke her final words to Brienne before shifting her attention to you, “I will give you two a moment, come find me when you’re done.” With this, she walked back to the still-docked ship she had previously been on, spectating as the crewmen scattered around on deck to get everything ready for departure. 

You turned to look at Brienne, her doing the same, a crestfallen expression gracing her features. Your face matching hers, “I sent Bartholomew off with another message this morning. Reply this time, please.” 

“Bartholomew?” Even though she was incredibly disheartened, an amused and quizzical look took over her face. 

“Yes. One of our message ravens. His real name is Branoc, but I named him Bartholomew the Raven the First. It was whimsical to me.” You lovingly smiled at Brienne, and she reciprocated, smiling with just as much adoration back. 

She chuckled slightly, “I see. I will read yours and send one back with Bartholomew the Raven the First. I swear, no more miscommunication.” Her words were true, no more silence from her end, no more misery. 

“Good. Well, off you go.” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to let her go, did not want to watch her leave but you were afraid there was no other choice. You could see Podrick in the distance behind Brienne, waiting for her to board the ship so they could return back. 

“I will be looking forward to hearing your decision when you have given thought to my offer. I love you. Please come back to me soon.” She was dragging this out, wanting your goodbye to last as long as possible so your time wouldn’t be cut short so soon. 

“I will try. I love you.” Gazing up into her eyes, you took her hands in yours, an action overlooked by the mass amount of people around you. “Now go. Ser Podrick is waiting for you.” 

“Farewell, for now, Ser.” Squeezing your hands, Brienne let go of them and straightened her back, hand resting on its usual place on the hilt of her sword; looking down at you with an over-enthusiastically assertive face, making you giggle a tiny bit. 

“Farewell for now, Lord Commander.” One long glance was exchanged before Brienne turned on her heels and started marching over to where Podrick was standing. The last you saw of her tall figure was her boarding the ship and her disappearing below deck. 

Walking up to your mother, you grabbed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder, her turning around to face you. “I will allow two questions on the ride back, and that is it.” Setting these boundaries with your mother rarely worked, but this time you were serious, dead set on maintaining some seclusion. 

“Two questions are all I’ll need.” 

——— 

Two weeks had passed since the events in Planky Town, and you had let it slip to your mother that Brienne had proposed to speak to the King on your behalf. A couple days after she had learned this, she miraculously didn’t need your services anymore, leaving you free to do whatever you wished. 

The first thing you did was send a raven to Brienne, telling her that you reflected on her proposal, that you accept, and to expect you the following week. 

Directly after this, you had traveled to Sunspear. Letting Prince Martell know that you would no longer be able to assist in whatever he needed. Considering you never swore your services to him and that it was purely a means to keep the ‘protect the innocents’ part of your knightly oath going; the only thing he could do was to thank you for your help and to let you leave. 

Packing whatever you needed for your trip, you said your goodbyes to your mother and later that day, you were on a ship heading for Kings Landing. It was another one of your family’s ones, and considering they were already heading up north, they allowed you to ride along in exchange for your assistance in carrying the goods, which you gladly assisted with. 

That all led to you standing at the dock of Kings Landing where the tall woman stood and awaited you. Walking up to her, you took a glance around before looking up at her with feigned confusion. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. Do you know where I could find her?” 

Brienne smiled playfully, lightly shoving your shoulder, causing you to grin up at her. “You’re not funny, you know?” 

“That smile on your face would suggest otherwise.” You were teasing her; she knew you were. You wanted to engage in small banter before diving right into serious King’s Guard business, but Brienne was eager for you to get integrated and fitted so she could take you to her private quarters and cuddle you. 

“We can continue this later. Let’s go see the King. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Brienne began leisurely trekking, you following after her. The sun reflected so perfectly in her gold plates as she journeyed towards the large gate, eventually traveling under it.

You found yourself in shadows for a brief period of time before the light hit your face as you emerged from the dark, stepping out into Fishmonger’s Square. 

From there you walked straight until you took a right, walking down The Hook and you couldn’t do much but gape at the Red Keep where it stood, large and marvelous, fit for a King of the Six Kingdoms. As you passed through the curved street, you and Brienne kept up a mindless conversation, not talking about anything important, really, just chatting, enjoying each other’s company. 

After finally, reaching the end of The Hook, you were greeted with a set of stairs, going up Aegon’s High Hill. You looked to Brienne with annoyed exhaustion, and she laughed, stating that ‘the leg muscles you get from this makes it worth it, I promise.’ She was being goofy, trying to change your expression into one less irritated, and it worked; she always knew how to make you smile like a fool. 

She motioned for you to go first, and you did, knowing that if you lost balance or fell, Brienne would be there to catch you. She, on the other hand, wanted you to go first so she could be bestowed the privilege of having your ass as her view; she would never admit that though. 

About halfway up, the knight behind you asked if you wanted to take a break, but you declined, knowing that you were almost there. Give or take a few dozen steps. Brienne shrugged, staying close to your back in case your legs gave out. Even her thighs were burning. 

Even though you walked a few steps above her, you still only reached Brienne’s forehead and she found it amusing that someone so short could have so much love, well, you were short to her; everyone was short to her. 

You ascended the very last stairstep, the Red Keep towering and looming above you. It was even more intimidating and glorious up close, and you had to crane your neck to even get remotely close to the peak of it. You had to stop yourself from releasing a ‘whoa’ but settled with subtle gawking instead; subtle being eyes and mouth wide open. 

Brienne passed your still-standing person, giggling at your amazement, “come on, you silly girl. You can revel in the spectacularism later.” You shook yourself out of your current state when hearing her fond tone, coming to join your blonde Commander by the large doors. 

Brienne entered the large building, making sure you were behind her, allowing you to step up to her side. The insides of the building were equally as grand as the outside, a home fit for a King, you thought. You refrained from commenting on the vision that was the Red Keep, but you were fairly certain your knight already knew what you were thinking by the awestruck countenance you had. 

When you entered the Throne Room, your former face had been switched to a solemn one, showing that you were a very serious knight who hadn’t been staring at the building you were currently in open-mouthed. 

There were two other people in the large space besides you and Brienne. A much shorter man with curly hair, and the King, who sat on his throne which had been moved down from its previous placement so that Bran could lift himself into it. 

Brienne leaned down to your ear, talking to you in a hushed tone, “That’s King Brandon Stark, which I assume you know. And the bloke next to him is Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister.” You only hummed in response as she rose to her full height once again. 

Tyrion had noticed the blonde's change in mood the second she had returned from Dorne. No longer staring off into nothingness and getting lost in her thoughts. No longer hiding away and sharpening every sword known to man or obsessively counting in the armory. 

He had been wondering what the cause for this sudden change in her behavior was, but now that he saw the way she looked at you, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, and how you acted the same towards her; he drew his own conclusions. He was sure to tease her about this at a later date. 

Brienne and you stopped before the King, kneeling in front of him. He called you both up to stand straight, the Lord Commander marching up to stand by her King's side, you standing firmly in place. 

“Your Grace.” You kept your eyes fixated on Bran, very aware of Brienne’s eyes on you. You could see her in the corner of your eye, she looked so exalted and heroic standing next to the King in her gold armor and white cloak. 

“Lord Brienne speaks very highly of you. She has stated very clearly that she would fight by your side and that she trusts you with her life.” You had to hold back a grin at his words, she spoke just as highly of you as you did of her, “I have heard of your accomplishments on the battlefield, and I must say that I am impressed.” 

“Thank you, Sire.”  

You had spent the journey here memorizing the oath you had to swear. It was a mighty long one, but it had eventually stuck, and you were sure it would never unstick. You didn’t quite know when you were supposed to swear it, hoping Brienne would give you some sort of signal for when it was time. 

Luckily, there was no need for that, King Bran gave you his own very clear instructions with his words, “I would be a fool to not have you in my Kings Guard, especially when my own Lord Commander was essentially bragging about your skills.” At this, Brienne’s head slumped down to hide a smile that crept up on her lush lips, she was a little bit embarrassed at him exposing her. Yet at the same time she was grateful for it because now you knew just how much she wanted you here with her unless any of her other words hadn’t been enough. “Kneel.” 

Brienne looked at you with enthusiasm, her pride for you shining brightly in the dimly lit room. She observed as you got down onto your knee once again, barely able to contain her large grin. The corners of her lips twitched, and she was sure that if either of the men beside her were to see it; they would question the reason why she actually wanted you here. She could want you here for two reasons, no? One selfish, one for the good of the kingdom. 

Your sword skills matched hers, and to have you next to her would put her so much more at ease. She was well aware that she was an exceptional sword fighter, but to have two with the same skill was calming, knowing that you would both go through hell and high water to get back to the other alive.  

Having such a drive force can be lifesaving in dire and lethal situations, especially when your job is to protect the King; riots hadn’t been uncommon in the past, but hopefully, there would be none now that there was new and better leadership. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and to give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

What you didn’t seem to notice even though you kept your eyes fixed on Bran, was his slight eyebrow quirk at the fact that you chose to replace father with mother, but wife remained, just as it had with Brienne’s oath. 

“Arise.” 

Brienne practically beamed at you as you got up from your knee, almost overzealously volunteering to take you to your fitting when Bran and Tyrion started discussing it. The shorter one of the two stared at her with an astute look, mouthing ‘real smooth, Lord Brienne,’ a teasing smile on his face. 

The tall blonde shot him one of her signature glares in return, staring at him pointedly and he knew he was going to have fun messing with her about this. Maybe he’ll ask her if she’s still a virgin, maybe her answer had changed since the last time he asked. He was sure it had, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

“Your Grace. I will take our newest recruit for measurements, then show them their quarters. Leave it to me.” Bran didn’t think much of Brienne’s willingness, he thought her to be a strange character sometimes and this was one of those times. He just simply nodded to show that she was sanctioned to do just that. 

“Lord Commander. Ser. You are both dismissed.” Brienne trotted over to your side, ready to lead you away from the large room. 

“Yes. Your Grace.” Speaking unanimously, you and the tall blonde bowed before taking your exit. Side by side, you roamed the regal halls of the Red Keep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring in wonderment again, nearing the exit of said building. 

Brienne found your extreme fascination and wonder endearing, her heart fluttering at your childlike enthusiasm and admiration, her insides all warm, her stomach filling with butterflies as she watched your wonderstruck face. 

The descent of the stairs was much more forgiving than the ascent and you had found yourself walking down The Kings Road that winded through Kings Landing, and as you walked, Brienne explained to you that you had two stops to make, one at the armorer for measurements for your new plates and gambeson, and a second at the tailor, for new tunics and trousers, but also for your long white cloak. 

She spoke to you the entire time about what she had been up to the five months you were apart, stating that it was too much to be written on paper, as you navigated the streets of Kings Landing to make your errands. 

It all went smoothly and eventually, Brienne had taken you to the White Sword Tower, where your chambers were located. “I managed to get your room next to mine, so we can easily sneak in between if we wish.” Her voice was hushed and her tone mischievous as she showed you her quarters, and then yours. You smiled at her words; she hadn’t changed one bit. 

“Come into mine. I wish to show you something.” Suddenly her voice and face turned candid, opening the door to her room and allowing you to walk in before her, closing it after entering the quarters herself. 

She immediately walked up to her hearth, starting a warming and crackling fire, and then moved to the armor stand in her room, beginning the removal process of each piece of her golden plates. 

You couldn’t help but look at the back of her head with a puzzled expression. It was getting close to sunset, but not close enough to warrant Brienne unstrapping her armor. She usually kept it on until bedtime, and it was still light outside. 

Continuing her process, she spoke to you, voice soft and tender, “Go look in that book over there.” She twitched her head quickly, motioning you in the direction she wanted you to go. 

Walking over to her bed table, your eyes landed on a book. Brienne didn’t seem like the type of person who would be interested in dramatic literature. “The book isn’t of importance; I just picked a random one. Look inside.” 

You looked back at Brienne, only having her gambeson left to remove, but had stopped for a second to turn her head to look at you, offering an encouraging smile. Shifting your gaze back to the book, you picked it up and opened the worn-out leather cover. The paper inside seemed to stare back at you with accusing eyes. 

It was tear-stained, obvious marks on the spots the Lord Commander’s tears had landed. You were almost certain about what the parchment was, your speculations were only confirmed when you removed it from the pages and unfolded it; your handwriting from five months ago glaring at you. 

“You kept it?” This was surely a painful memory for Brienne, why she opted to keep it you did not know. The evidence of her evening cries was clear on the slightly ripped note; she must’ve read this every single day. 

“Yes.” She was finally finished with her armor and gambeson and moved to join you by her bed. “I needed to have something of yours, and this was all I had.” She stopped in front of you, gently taking the book and letter from your hands, placing them back on the bed table before grabbing hold of your hands. “I read it every single night, desperately trying to remember your voice. But I- I couldn’t.” 

Her gaze shifted from yours to the floor, and you were hit with a surge of woe seeing her evade your eyes. You did not know why she felt the need to do so. Was she ashamed that she had forgotten your voice? Or maybe embarrassed admitting that she read your letter every night even if it reminded her of the dark winter evening by the stables? You did not know, and you didn’t want to ask, not now at least. 

“Darling,” one of your hands tangled itself out of Brienne’s to softly lift her chin up, so you could look into her magnificent irises. “I forgot your voice too. No matter, though. We’ll be able to hear each other's voice every day from now on.” She smiled down at you with sad eyes, an unasked question in the air that you both wanted to ask, the taller woman being the actual one to ask it. 

“Will you let me hold you, please? I wish to hold you.” It was almost like she was shy, acting like it was the beginning stage of your relationship once again, and in a way it kind of was. You were in need of her warmth, her closeness, and the strong enveloping of her large and long arms. For her to hold you tight and never let go, desperate to be back in her embrace once again. 

You responded by kissing her tenderly on her lips, removing your hand from her chin, and using the one still in her hand to drag her down onto the bed with you. Both you and Brienne were still fully clothed, an error that needed to be resolved; you wanted to feel her hot skin against yours once again like you had done so many moons ago. “I want to feel your bare flesh against mine, please.” 

Brienne watched you lovingly and fondly, nodded, and started to remove her clothing, stripping down to her undergarments. It was nothing sexual, just the need to feel the entirety of her against you; an animalistic urge to feel a sense of security. You followed suit, undressing with haste, folding up your clothes, and placing them next to hers at the foot of the bed. 

Your blonde knight in shining armor crawled under the covers and laid down on her side, holding the fur up for you so you could do the same. Lifting up the same arm that had been holding the cover as you did. 

She wasted no time in slinging the same limb around you when you had laid down next to her, pulling you close to her, your back against her front. Her face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. 

Her strong musk and arms encompassed you, the faint and familiar smell of fresh grass and light sweat overwhelming your senses once again. You were completely intoxicated by her proximity, you couldn’t think, your mind was scrambled, heart racing. 

She started pressing soft kisses to your skin, supple lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, making you release a sigh. Brienne whispered against your skin, her breath slightly tickling you. “Tell me what you did in Dorne during the five months we were apart. Catch me up, please.” You were more than happy to. 

As you started to recount the events that had occurred over the past five months, Brienne’s hold around you tightened, attempting to have you even closer to her which at this point was impossible. There was barely any space left between you, not even a small air pocket. 

Your legs were tangled with her incredibly long ones, fingers drawing mindless circles on her arm as you told her about your journey to Dorne, your father’s passing, and your family’s trader business. 

Brienne hummed every once in a while, to let you know that she was listening, her arm around you strong like cement. As she pressed a barely felt but burning kiss to the skin behind your ear, you realized that you were finally back where you were always meant to be. 

In Brienne’s arms.

–––

taglist: (give me a shout if you wish to be removed)

@na-shoba

@pastanest

@the-fuck-do-i-know

@mayfair-fleur

@idontlikepexple

[bucknastysbabe]

You chose the lowborn route, will the Knight of the night enjoy your company?

Highborn Route

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Sex worker!reader, post Nyra heartbreak sad Crispy, very very soft intimate sex, he’s a sad boy, angsty from start to finish, pnv!sex, poor baby delulu boy, one sided love

A/N: Me no beta just vibes

Divider by: @cafekitsune

The mistress of your brothel called you over, beckoning from a gauzy curtain. She peeked out and pressed a finger to her lips. You went to Myra and raised a silent brow. The older woman whispered, “We have a very discreet client. Very. He’s paying good coin and it’s his neck and possibly one of ours if it’s discovered.”

You grew a bit fearful, asking, “Who is it? One of the princes? Princess? We have Aegon all the time.”

“No young one, a Kingsguard. He’s in a state, be gentle. No names. He requested someone with Valyrian features. Upstairs room, knock two times and pause then thrice you shall knock.”

You merely had dainty features and purple eyes. Nothing like the royals, those from the freehold cities. Your skin was close to a Velaryon— but your curls were dark. But you took the key and nodded, quietly making your way past curtains and the sounds of fucking. The noises of home.

Valyrian features, hm. He needed to go to the finer pillowhouses for that. The girls from Lys and Volantis could be found there with their pale hair and pretty eyes. Although he chose a decent place. You knew a mid-way whorehouse would be the most discreet.

Not too poor to sell information, not too expensive for a careless spoilt whore to spill her secrets to a customer. You knew of some lords who had been through here, Prince Aegon frequented now and then. A Kingsguard was strange.

Still you walked up the stairs, peering over your shoulder fearfully. You knocked twice, pause, then the three more times. A muffled voice replied, “You can enter.” Your hands were shaking while unlocking the heavy door. This was the finest room in the place. You’d only been up here once before.

The lock clicked and you smoothed down your gauzy fabrics, stepping in quietly, smoothing your face into placidity. He looked like a normal man to you, albeit extremely handsome, not wearing anything indicative of the Kingsguard. He would stick out like a sore thumb if so, especially to the weasel-like goldcloaks.

The man looked like he’d been crying, his dark curls a mess. You curtsied and he croaked, “I’m nothing, no need to act like it.” Brown eyes glanced up, still glassy. He peered under those messy curls and hummed, “You have pretty eyes. I take you’re the closest they have to Valyrian features.”

“Thank you,” you cautiously stepped forward to kneel at his booted feet, “It’s just my eyes. They like to joke I’m a bastard of one.” He paused, a trembling, scabbed hand reaching out to caress your cheek. He sighed, “Do you feel trapped here, stuck to this life?”

His pretty lips twitched, emotions roiling off of this supposed white knight. You mulled over it and replied, “I’ve accepted my fate. I have a cunt and my last name is Waters. I used to dream when I was younger, alas, being a silk street whore was to be my calling. I guess I could go be a silent sister, sounds grim.”

Mirth flashed across his face. He murmured, calloused thumb still stroking your cheek, “I can’t escape my last name either. Common born. Being a— one of them was the highest a man like me could get. Blessed and I went and sullied it. But I’m still there, sworn. What is a dirty cloak worth?”

“We all make mistakes. Stains come out with enough patience. Now did you come to a whore house to confess your sins?,” you inquired, own hand coming up to hold his. The brunette shook his head, smiling with no trace of happiness. He scoffed, “I suppose not. I don’t really know. Just want to be someone else for a bit.”

You stood up, slipping between his strong thighs to place your arms around broad shoulders. Smiling gently you informed the knight, “A man and a woman. Nothing more, nothing less. No titles, oaths, sullied cloaks or bad blood.”

The brunette nodded, looking up with wide eyes. He rasped, “Yes, yes, I’d like that very much. Just for the night, forget about it all.” He seemed to grow emotional again, so you leaned forward with puckered lips. He filled the gap, taking your slow pace in stride. Big hands found themselves at your waist, holding on like you would break.

The knight lapped into your mouth, you letting him choose the pace. Soft and wet seemed to be his choice for the night, pouring false intimacy into the sharing of each other. Your lips smacked against his own, the man’s breath hitching, pulling you closer into his frame.

“You can call me Criston,” he breathed.

You pushed Criston back to straddle his hips, your bare cunt running against his breeches— two voices softly crying out in unision. He was half-hard, cock plumping up nicely. Running your fingers through his hair you hummed, “Usually men don’t kiss whores.”

“No titles tonight.”

You smiled against his lips, snickering, “Fair. Do you want me to take care of you Criston?”

He nodded, a silent plea, bigger hands trembling at your waist. You picked up the earlier kissing, wet and messy, almost intimate. The knight liked when your lips audibly smacked, choking on a groan and seeking your tongue. It felt like hours of passionate kissing, Criston savoring your mouth, lapping at your tongue.

His cock throbbed underneath your own aching cunt. Pulling away with a dribble of drool, you kissed his stubbled jaw, nibbling very gently, hands roving up his shirt to caress strong sides. The knight exhaled sharply, hips bucking at the same time. His swollen lips hung open, dark eyes shut.

You idly wondered if he was picturing someone else. Perhaps the Princess, or Lady Velaryon. It didn’t make a difference but you hoped he enjoyed you as well.

Criston’s hands began to pull at your flimsy excuse for a dress, revealing budded tits and your scarred skin. Old marks from a mean customer gone mad. You remained naked as the day you were born. Criston abruptly sat upright— you holding his shoulders with wide eyes. Dark pools roved down your body, the man murmuring, “Gorgeous.”

This was the time to questioningly grab at the hem of his loose top, him nodding in acquiescence. You shimmied it off, then raised yourself up to nimbly unlace his breeches— thick cock straining against the dull fabric. In a tangle of limbs, the pair of you fell back again so Criston could shuck off his pants.

He smiled again, this time more genuine. Then flipped you onto your back, a hand pushing your own down, fingers interlacing. Criston’s other hand palmed at your breast, forefinger and thumb pulling at the tender bud. A whimper leaked from your gaping lips, shivering under his sculpted body.

“Is that good?,” he asked, dark hair falling forward to curtain you two in. You felt down ridged sides, moaning, “So very good Criston.” You didn’t expect him to seal his lips on your other nipple, suckling and flicking his tongue. You arched underneath him, his brawnier frame keeping you pinned.

The more shifting and squirming you did, the more the man held you down, breathing raggedly against your now-swollen chest. He panted, “Need…to have you…” His cock was already slotted between your thighs, wet with copious slick. You hadn’t been so turned on by a customer in forever.

“Take me, it’s yours,” came your weak plea.

Criston removed a hand wound in your hair, pressing little kisses to your neck as he slid his blunt tip into your warmth. You laughed throatily, “I’m no spring maiden, you can do as you feel.” The brunette groaned sliding into your heat, hissing against your sweaty neck, “You don’t deserve to be brutalized.”

You swallowed down the weird feeling that brought up— wrapping your legs tight around Criston’s waist. He kept your one hand down, fingers still interlocked, eyes flicking to them, obviously recounting something. Grabbing a sharp jawline you redirected his gaze. Criston looked a bit agonized again— cock softening.

Wrapping your arms around his neck again, you pulled his nose flush to yours, repeating, “A woman and a man, just in the now, no titles or cloaks.” He swallowed, pressing his forehead to your own, hips beginning to thrust into your welcoming pussy.

A soft noise was forced out of your throat, his girth stretching your walls, the thick tip dragging against your inner ridges. Heavy balls slapped against your ass, Criston groaned and holding tight, smothering you with fervent kisses. He babbled, “Yes, fuck, you’re so- so- gods! Kind!”

Nibbling on his earlobe you nodded along, encouraging the man to let it out, powerful thrusts rocking the bed along. Your head was spinning from the delightful pleasure— a rarity in your line of work. The knight continued to rant, “Why can’t she be like you? Fucking serpent!”

He bucked roughly, apologizing immediate with a kiss to your forehead. You rolled back onto his stiff prick, mewling his name. Eventually came the strung together response, “Th-then she does not de-serrrve you! Gods!” Criston lowly moaned, mouth breathing hot and desperate down your neck, “I hope so.”

The room was growing warm with the heat of passionate fucking— you couldn’t say lovemaking. Slapping, mewls, heavy breaths. The bed ropes creaked with his movements, chain dangling in your view. The man had enough stamina to keep up with an experienced whore.

Criston seized your lips again, asking to touch your button between fraught kisses. You wailed at the wonderful touch, his thumb swirling your slick and his pre on the bundle of nerves. There was no way you couldn’t scratch his back and fuck back onto his pulsing cock. This was just too good.

He helplessly called you a name, one you shan’t repeat. He was so out of it now, head shoved into the crook of your neck, drooling. You shivered again, legs twitching as the fire in your belly lit up. Digging your nails into muscled back came the warning. He slipped his thumb up and up— sending you reeling with a cry and gush of arousal, thoroughly coating his twitching member.

Criston groaned deep and long, mouthing at your sweaty neck, gripping your hands together bruisingly. He whimpered, “Seven forgive me, forgive me, forgive me,” as he feverishly pulled out just in time to spurt on your thigh and mound.

The knight sat back on his haunches, panting, face flushed with exertion. He ran a hand through sweaty hair, rasping, “Thank you, I- ah, never got your name.”

“Doesn’t make a difference Ser Criston.”

He nodded with a slight frown, posture relaxing some. The knight shakily stood up to find a the bowl of water and rag, wiping himself off. Then he came over to your lazy frame, doing the same, shushing your overstimulated squeak of his name.

You maneuvered your sore body up as he began to dress, doing the same, wrapping back up in the thin fabric. Criston secured the hood over his head, informing the coin was in the bag inside the chest. He stopped at the door again and softly stated, “Thank you again.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for Ser Criston,” you said.

The door closed with an audible click. Suddenly you felt that emptiness he carried. A taste of intimacy and it was ripped away before you could truly indulge. No matter. You had a job just like the forlorn knight.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Lonely Hearts Club: Part Two

Summary: Full Story! Breaking up with Andrew Barber is hard to do. You of all people should know, considering you just tried. Now what? Read Part One.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Angst, Discussions of Break-ups, Fun with Exes, Jealousy, Andy Being a Menace, Confident Reader, Eventual Smut, Cursing, Expect Additional Future Warnings, Minors DNI

A/N: Dedicated to @atkissoflife, @that-one-anxious-mango, and @piscesmermaidprincess. This multi-part fic features a combination of requests from the likes of @writer84, @lexivass, @moejdaw, and several others. It is also, part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

___

February 15th - 12:25am - Los Angeles, CA

Wow. Just...wow.

You stare down at your phone as you wait for the bartender to bring you your check. While you had initially been prepared for Andy to be upset over your note, as well as your pretty abrupt departure, you certainly hadn't expected this.

If anything, he seemed almost...unbothered. By all of it. Granted, it was sometimes hard to gauge a person's tone via text. But you'd also been in a relationship with the man for the better part of six freaking months! At this point, one could argue that you were practically fluent in Andrew Barber and all of his fucking moods.

The guy was up to something, without a doubt. Which meant that you were now officially on high alert. Because your man - your ex - had never been the type to play fair.

Especially where you were concerned. You should've known that it was gonna take a hell of a lot more than a handwritten letter and a box of artisanal muffins to knock some sense into his stubborn ass.

"Argh! You are such a fucking ogre, Andrew!" You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Why can't you ever make things easy?"

The next time you look up it's to see the bartender returning with your credit card. She goes to hand it over, only for you to interrupt her mid-sentence.

What was her name again? You could've sworn it started with a "D".

"Sorry, I know I said I was ready to close out. But since men are stupid, I think I'm gonna need another margarita. Quite possibly two."

Delta gives you a sympathetic nod before pocketing your card once more. "You got it, sweetie. Still want sugar instead of salt?"

"Yes, please." You mumble, reminding yourself that it was okay to feel annoyed. Because you were. This was supposed to be your time, damn it. You deserved to take some space for yourself!

Even if it meant sitting alone at a hotel bar, missing the one person you loved more than anything, the day after motherfucking Valentine's Day. Cheers, bitches.

___

Two Weeks Later – Somewhere in Downtown Boston

Andrew Barber stares blankly at his computer screen, mindlessly tapping his index finger against his temple as a fresh wave of anger courses through his veins. 

He’d been so good the last two weeks. So patient and understanding. He’d given you your space, just like you’d asked. Never intruding with the exception of the text he shot off that night.

Even when he’d come across your latest Instagram post from a few days ago showing off your apparent date with another man. Some pretentious looking fucker who went by Russell Cromwell. You two had looked real cozy while sharing a plate full of Birria tacos. And then you’d posed outside of the restaurant with your arms wrapped around his waist. 

But the real kicker had been the last photo in the carousel. The one where you’d kissed him on the cheek – when you’d done the “knee thing” that actresses used to do in those old black and white movies you loved to watch so much.

Oh yeah. The two of you would be having a discussion about that one real soon. His wayward Baby Girl could count on that shit. 

Honestly, you had no idea how hard falling back had been for him. It had been a real struggle. Because at his core, Andrew Barber was a man of action. He was well-known for his cunning and mental prowess. This was a man who had graduated at the top of his class, who had then gone on to become the youngest District Attorney in the city of Boston’s history. 

And in times of crisis, he was someone you could count on to remain calm and collected while you worked towards a solution. Nothing could shake him, save for the trial and media circus that had briefly surrounded his late son. 

After that particular tragedy, Andy had resigned himself to being alone. Forever. He often tried to convince himself that he preferred it that way. Andrew Barber didn’t do love. Not after what happened with his ex-wife, Laurie. He was better off living a life of no commitment. 

Even if it meant a lot of lonely nights filled with a seemingly endless revolving door of meaningless one-night stands. 

And then he’d met you. 

Yes, you.

The woman who had somehow, against all odds, brought magic back into his life. Your laugh, your smile, your very presence – it colored his whole goddamn world. He told you that all of the time, and yet it was almost as if you didn’t believe him.

At first, he was convinced that you were too good to be true. Although he’d been quickly dispelled of that notion when you’d had the balls to walk out on him during your very first date. It’s quite possible that he’d fallen for you right then – because you were the type of woman who knew her worth.

By then, Andy had become convinced that you were a gift from the universe. The way he saw it, after everything he’d been through, he was owed you. You were the woman of his dreams – his very salvation – all wrapped up in a curvy little package. And when you ran that night, it called to the primal part of him that felt compelled to give chase. 

Just like now.

But what you had yet to understand was that, once a man like Andrew Barber had deemed you his forever, there was no going back. There was no letting you go. No means of escape.

At most, he’d been granted you a temporary reprieve. You both needed time to assess the situation, survey the damage, and then calculate your next move. 

And sweetness, you’d already played your hand when you’d left that little note skipped town under the pretense of taking a fucking business trip.

Fine. Now it was on him. And while you still held most of the cards, that certainly didn’t mean that Andrew Barber was walking around without an ace or two in his back pocket. And you had better believe that he was more than ready to play his own. 

But first…he needed some fucking coffee. And lucky for him, he knew just where he could find the perfect cup – shot of chocolate, dash of cinnamon, hold the whip. 

___

Forty Minutes Later – Monarch Media Group (20 Minutes Outside Downtown Boston)

You lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. For the life of you, you simply couldn’t seem to focus today. Or any other day for the matter.

Even though it had been almost a week since you’d returned from your trip to L.A., you still felt just as conflicted about things with Andrew Barber as you did before you’d left. And not only that, but you also found yourself feeling on edge about the entire situation.

Because after your brief text exchange the morning of February 15th, he’d left you alone. The most impatient man you’d ever encountered this side of Boston had actually found it within himself to respect your wishes. 

No calls. No texts. No emails. Not even so much as a fucking smoke signal.

And while part of you was pleased with that particular development, there was no denying the fact that you missed your Big Man. 

You could be woman enough to admit it. You missed the hell out the handsome, grumpy-faced district attorney who, up until recently, had been a major mainstay in your life. But after some serious soul searching and a generous amount of tequila, you’d come to the conclusion that it was important for you to get your mind right before moving forward with anything.

You owed it to yourself to figure out who you were outside of your relationship with Andy – needed it even. Because that man was a force to be reckoned with. He could be so dominant sometimes, his personality so completely all-consuming that it was easy to lose yourself in him. 

To allow yourself to become so entirely eclipsed by his brilliant shadow. Which is something that could absolutely happen the moment you stopped paying attention to your own wants, and needs, and desires.

And if that ever were to happen, part of you wondered whether or not you would be able to find your way back. Honestly, you had no idea.

Because after all of this, if you chose to be with him…it would mean that you were all-in. There was no other option with him.

That beautifully stubborn man didn’t have a lower setting.   

However, the last thing you’d ever expected was for Mr. Andrew “My Way or the Highway” Barber to go quietly into that good night. Well, suppose you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Because if anything he could very well be planning–

Your inner musings are interrupted by Anya, your favorite receptionist at Monarch Media Group. Granted, she was also the only receptionist at the company you’d worked for over the last several years, but that was neither here nor there.

Anya gives you a knowing look before taking a seat on the edge of your desk. “Hi, friend.” She lightly pokes your shoulder. “How ya doin?”

“I’m okay.” You blow out a breath and then decide to exit out of your Outlook. “What’s up?”

“Oh…nothing much.” You watch as your friend and coworker helps herself to a piece of chocolate sitting in a nearby dish. 

“Okay.”

“I just stopped by to tell you that your coffee has arrived.” She dutifully unwraps it before popping it in her mouth.

“What?”

You hadn’t ordered any coffee. You didn’t usually even drink the stuff this late in the day. Unless…

“Yep. And just so happens, it was hand-delivered by the handsomest door-dasher I ever did see.” Anya pokes your shoulder again. “I would’ve accepted it on your behalf, but the guy insists on giving it to you himself. Probably angling for a tip if you ask me.” She throws you a conspiratorial wink for good measure.

Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Andrew “Check Out My Shit Timing” Barber.

“Ugh.” You bury your head in your hands to muffle your cry of frustration. “Can you please just tell him I’m not here?”

“I’m afraid I already let that cat out of the bag. But by the look on your face and the way you’re rocking back and forth like a human pinball, I take it I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No!” 

“Did you and Andy like…break up…or something?” Anya pauses as she reaches for another piece of candy, her hand hovering in mid-air.

No, Anya. I always feel like jumping out the nearest window. I’m fucking squirrley like that.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” You wail. “It’s just…it’s just really fucking complicated, okay?” 

“Gotcha. So…about the coffee…” 

“I’m going. I’m going.” You stand up in a huff, wishing you knew where you put the ponytail holder that had been on your wrist just this morning. “But if he pisses me off, I’m dumping that shit on his shoes. Hot or not. I do not care.”

“Okay, but if it comes to that can you please try to do it off company property? I’m all for you handling your business, but I’m also thinking about all the paperwork I’m gonna have to do if you accidentally injure one of the city’s hottest attorneys.”

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you stalk towards the front of the office to confront the annoying asshole who also happened to be the love of your life. 

“What can I say? I’m a selfish bitch.” She chirps, blowing you a kiss.

“Your words not mine. And stay the hell out of my chocolate, you mooch!” You call out as you turn the corner, fully intending to give the Boston D.A. a piece of your mind before you politely, and very firmly, shoved him out the door. 

Because if that man thought that he could just waltz right into your place of business and act like he owned everything and everyone, then he was sorely mistaken. You were going to prove to him, and whoever the hell’s job it was to oversee this whole godforsaken cosmos, that you knew how to stand your ground.  

The sight of him standing right there in the lobby is easily enough to temporarily rob you of all reasonable thought. His back is to you, giving you the brief opportunity to give him a thorough once-over. His tailored white dress shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his brawny forearms. But what really draws your attention are his slate gray slacks, which only serves to highlight his perfectly sculpted backside. 

He looked good. Nobody deserved to look that damned good, least of all your ex-boyfriend. 

Wait. Is that – is that what he was now? Is…is that how all of this worked? Fuck! 

You note the lack of tension in his broad shoulders. All things considered, he seemed pretty relaxed. But the real question was…how long could it be expected to last?

Andy picks that moment to turn around, his bright blue eyes locking with your own as an eager grin slowly spreads its way across his handsome features. You take a steadying breath and choose to ignore it. 

“Andrew.” You exhale, trying your best to appear unaffected by his presence. It was a lie, of course. But if you managed to keep this unexpected interaction short and sweet, you just might be able to pull it off. “Wh–what are you doing here?”

“Hi.” He cocks his head to the side as he drinks you in, almost as if he’s amused by your disgruntled demeanor.

“Hello.” You cross your arms over your chest, wishing that you had chosen to wear a different sweater today. Andy loved you in this color, especially because of how it paired with your particular skin tone. 

“Happy Wednesday, baby.” 

God, he really needed to lose that stupid smile. Otherwise, how on earth were you supposed to maintain your composure? 

“Sure.”

“Brought you something.” Andy holds out one of the cups of coffee he’s carrying. “Figured you might be able to use a little pick-me-up.” 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” You tell him with a shake of your head. 

“What? Since when?” He rears back before offering up a playful pout. “We always get coffee together on Wednesdays. It’s our thing…our little afternoon delight.” This time you’re treated to a wink.

“Shh!” You hiss, bridging the distance between your bodies to slap a hand across his mouth. “Don’t say that!” 

The last thing you needed was someone to overhear that and think you two used to sneak away sometimes in the afternoon to…to well…you know. Some of the people you worked with possessed very vivid imaginations.

And besides, that whole afternoon delight business had only happened once or twice. Okay, quite possibly four and a half times – and then one more after that. 

Amusement sparkles in his gaze as he stares you down. And then you feel the faint flick of his tongue brush across your palm. When you don’t react he does it again, this time following it up with an exaggerated groan. 

You immediately jerk your hand away as if you’ve just been burned. Knowing that things were only bound to get worse, you snatch one of the coffees before grabbing his arm and dragging him outside and into the unseasonably warm weather. 

Thank goodness for small favors.

The smell of spring was definitely in the air these days, but all you can focus on is the sound of Andy’s laughter trailing behind you. Frankly, it’s enough to set your teeth on edge. Even still, he allows you to lead him down the street. At some point there’s a slight shift that results in your relinquishing his arm so that he can lace his fingers through yours.   

But you'll allow it if it means that he’ll behave for as long as it takes to make it to your destination. Which just so happens to be an empty bench located at the edge of a nearby park.

To his credit, the attractive buttface at your side doesn’t say anything during your impromptu power walk, but he also doesn’t need to. Because after two long weeks without you, the man was probably venturing into serious touch-starved territory. 

You knew it. And so did he. So part of you didn’t see the harm in giving him this one, small thing.  

Relief fills you when you finally reach the bench. Of course Andy sits first before pulling you down with him – but thankfully not onto his lap. Although you’re positive that the thought was there.

Eventually he lets go of your hand. Unsure of what else to do, you finally take a sip of your coffee. The rich, slightly bitter flavor of chocolate and mocha bursts onto your tongue, followed immediately by a quick hint of cinnamon.

Mm. A perfect cup.

“I’ve missed you, baby girl.” Andy’s large, lightly calloused hand cups your face – the roughened pad of his thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “It hasn’t been a very fun couple of weeks.”

“I know.” You whisper as you lean into his touch and your eyes flutter closed. Perhaps you were just as starved for affection as he was. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you miss me?” His tone is gruff, but there’s no mistaking the emotion behind his words. Or the pain in his eyes for that matter. 

“I did, Andy.” So much.

“But you still left. Tried to break up with me before hopping on a plane and running off all the way to L.A. to share some chips and queso with good ol’ Rusty.” Your eyes fly open as Andy’s hand drops away. “Or did I read that wrong?” 

How the fuck had he known where you where? You hadn’t included anything about your intended destination in your letter…

“I saw it on your Instagram, in case you were wondering. Was actually able to use that stupid account you set up for me after all.” His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he narrows his gaze, trying to read your expression. “Couldn’t really get much else, although I enjoyed those pics of you at the beach.”

“It was a work trip.” You remind him, suddenly feeling defensive. “And Russell is an old friend, nothing more.”

“Hm.” Andy quirks an annoyed brow. “Are we talking about the kind of friend who also  accompanies you to the beach so you can show off your brand new bikini? Not that I’m complaining any about that gorgeous, sunkissed glow you’ve got going on, princess.” 

His big body is certainly tense, but there’s no ignoring the feral gleam in his eyes. Almost as if he’s dying to undress you and spend the next several hours checking you for tan lines. 

And he would, too. It’s not like it would be the first time. 

“I went alone. Russell stayed behind for that one.” You roll your eyes at the sight of his nostrils flaring. “Jesus Christ, dude! I know you may not believe that I’m a big girl, but I am. And if I wanna go hang out at the beach by myself, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!”

Which was exactly what the fuck you’d done. And it had been positively marvelous. 

“Fine.” He grunts, raising his palm towards the heavens. “God forgive me for having the sense to worry about my girl, especially since the last time I checked, she still couldn’t swim for shit.”

“Whatever, Andrew. This girl does whatever the hell she wants now, so you had better get used to it.” Your mouth is set in a thin, firm line while you silently dare him to disagree.

“I’m not quite sure how that’s different from any other day with you, but alright.” Andy tries to calm himself by playing with a stray curl that’s fallen free from your bun. “You’re still mine, sweetness. Even when you insist on being a brat. Or did you somehow forget that part?”

You swat at his hand instead of responding, hating that steady feeling of warmth that was currently pooling in your belly. 

“Did you?”

You make a show of ignoring him in favor of enjoying what was left of your coffee.

“You know, they say that sometimes silence speaks louder than words, baby girl.” You find yourself resisting the urge to clench your thighs together at the sound of the dark chuckle that rumbles through his chest. “It’s alright, though. Guess I’ll just have to remind you again once we get past this little wall you’re trying to put up between us.”

He gifts you with a flash of his pearly white teeth. Andrew Barber was the type of man who would only let you get away with so much before he put his foot down. And you would do well to remember that. 

“Pretty sure you meant to say “actions”, jackass.” Apparently he finds your acerbic wit funny as well.

“Eh, I’ve heard it both ways.” Andy shrugs before going back to toying with your curls. “But I think you should know that I’m not very happy with you, baby. And I’m trying to be patient here, but it’s kinda difficult when I can’t even get you to talk to me.”

“I was going to call you…” That wasn’t a lie. You had just been trying to drum up the mental fortitude you knew it would take to pick up the phone and actually dial his number. Sometimes, dealing with Andrew Barber could require some serious patience. 

“Were you now?” He doesn’t believe you. You can hear it in his voice.

“I was.”

“Okay, then have dinner with me tonight.” He releases your curl, watching the way it bounces as it springs free.

“Andy.” You let out an exhausted sigh.

“Meet me at my place. I’ll swing by Imperial Wok and pick up a few of your favorites so we can eat. And then we can talk in a quiet, private setting without any interruptions. How does that sound, princess?”

“Wonderful.” The word slips out before you can catch it. “But I–I can’t.”

Andrew Barber’s excited smile dies on his lips the moment that phrase reaches his ears and registers in his brain. As much as you hated to admit it, being alone with this man wasn’t a very good idea right now – especially behind closed doors.

Because while you’d never seen the man in court, you’d definitely heard plenty of stories about his ruthlessness. And you knew firsthand just how persistent he could be when he was determined to get his way. 

When Andy wanted something, he didn’t stop until he got it. Not only was he relentless, but he also wasn’t above using every tool at his disposal – including sex – if it meant having you back in his life. It wouldn’t matter all that much to him how it came about.

The same way he wouldn’t care if whether or not your desired reconciliation only happened because he’d lured you into his bed before fucking you back into submission. 

“The fu–why the hell not?” He growls, his hand grips the arm of the wooden bench so hard his knuckles go white.

“Because I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” The pronounced tick in his jaw makes it clear that he’s beyond frustrated by your refusal. 

Unfortunately, that was too damned bad! By the time this was all said and done, your handsome ogre was going to have mastered the art of having some goddamned patience. At least you hoped that would be the case…

“Both.” You offer your Big Man a small apologetic smile as you rise from your seat. “Let’s plan for sometime next week. Maybe we can shoot for Monday. I’ll, uh, send you a text or something and we can find a place to meet. But I really need to get back to work now.”

Andy stares at you for what feels like a full minute as his impressive brain works overtime to figure out his next move. And then he stands up before taking your empty cup and discarding them both in a nearby trash bin.

“Alright.” He mutters with a nod in your direction. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for your message then. Now, let’s get you back to your office.” A lump forms in your throat when he wraps a muscled arm around your shoulders as you two begin walking back the way you came. 

Fuck, you really hated this shit. But if this relationship was ever going to have a chance of working, you had to continue standing your ground. Even though it hurt like hell.

“I, um...I know you said that we probably won’t be able to sit down and talk until next week. And I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from with that, but while I have you now…” He lightly coughs into his elbow.

You glance up at your hotshot attorney, trying to figure out where he was going with this so that you could potentially cut him off at the pass.

“I at least wanted to say “thank you” in person for still agreeing to help Lydia with the charity gala this Saturday. I’m sure that it wasn’t an easy decision for you, especially given how things have been between us lately. But I really do appreciate it. And, frankly, I’m sure the kids at St. Augustine’s do too.” 

You feel the blood drain from your face as the reminder of this weekend’s event all-but smacks in the face. “Shit!” You hiss, pulling away from Andy as you reach your building. “It’s this Saturday? Are you sure?”

 “I am.” He confirms, his eyes filled with surprise. “I just spoke with Lydia yesterday when I–”

“Fuck!” You exclaim as your hands fly to your hips, uncaring that you just interrupted whatever it was he was about to say. 

In all of the chaos, you’d completely forgotten that you had agreed to help the wife of one of Andy’s colleagues with her annual charity ball. Starting by arriving at the hotel early Saturday morning to aid in the event setup, before heading up to your room to get ready for the evening's festivities.

A room that had been booked during a time when you and Andy were on much better terms.     

“She did mention that she sent all of the volunteers an email a couple days ago with a list of instructions. Maybe it got buried in your inbox, baby.” He rests his hands on your biceps, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “But she is definitely expecting you and I’m afraid it’s probably too late for you to back out at this point.”

Deep down you knew he was right. And quite honestly, you wouldn’t even dream of doing something like this close to the actual date of the gala. But there was still the issue of having to share a hotel room with your ex.

Closing your eyes, you force yourself to take a deep breath. “I–I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that big of an asshole. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to share a room…” You trail off, hoping that he would at least be somewhat understanding of your current plight.

“Ahh.” You can see the moment when realization finally dawns. “Right. Almost forgot about that.”

No, he actually hadn’t. But since Andy didn’t feel as though there was any real need for you to know that, he was going to keep that particular tidbit to himself. Even he was capable of showing some restraint every now and again.   

“Like I said…” You find yourself anxiously bouncing on your toes. “I don’t think –”

“I get it, sweetheart.” 

Wait. He did? Just like that?

“You do?”

“I do.” His words are accompanied by a lopsided grin. 

He didn’t. But then again, you didn’t need to know that either.

Andy’s hands leave your arms so that he can tenderly cup the sides of your face instead. “You just leave it all to me, baby girl. I’ll call the hotel and change the reservations.”

“You will?” You place your smaller hands overtop of his own. “You…you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Andy leans down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. “And I promise to be on my best behavior Saturday night.” He gives you another kiss, which you allow. “If you want, I’ll even send over the updated confirmation info.” 

“Thank you.” You murmur, wishing that you could give-in just a little more and offer up your lips for a kiss. A real one this time. 

But you couldn’t afford to do that. Not even when Mr. Andrew “Give Me A Gold Star For Being Helpful” Barber was acting sweet. That would only throw everything off balance all over again. 

Andy’s heated gaze drops to your mouth before he slowly pulls away. “Don’t work too hard, okay?” His husky voice sends one last tiny flutter through your belly. 

“Same goes for you.” You tell him as you begin to head into the building.

“Goodbye, baby girl.” 

“Goodbye, Andrew. See you Saturday.” 

He waits until you’re safely inside and out of sight before turning on his heel and proceeding in the direction of his car. Oh, you’d be seeing him on Saturday alright. And he would be on his best behavior – depending on just how much patience he could muster. 

You two would be sorting this shit out then, whether you liked it or not. When it was over, you’d both spend the rest of the weekend making up for lost time. And Andrew was going to do everything in his power to ensure you enjoyed every fucking second of it. Just like he planned to enjoy getting reacquainted with that delicate sweetness between those luscious thighs. But first…

He needed to go make a call.

END

*Part Three Coming Soon...*

___

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You brought the light I needed in my life

Part 2

(The next morning)

I don’t know something about this song just seems so genuine when the morning sun is beaming through your window. Maybe the opening beat got to me 🤷‍♂️

(Tara’s Pov) I woke up to the sunlight beaming in my face once again. ‘sigh’ I told Sam numerous times that I wanted blackout curtains for my room but she insisted on slim curtains that let sunlight in my room anyways. She said something about being too emo or like that character Wednesday Addams who’s actually my favorite.

I face planted into my pillow “I guess there’s no point In going back to sleep.” I climb out of bed and head into the kitchen to eat breakfast. “I don’t smell anything or hear the stove running. Cereal it is then I guess.

As I finished pouring some milk into my bowl of cereal, I heard Sam walk in the kitchen, turning the stove dial “Oh come on!! I just poured a bowl of cereal!”

Sam put her hand over my mouth “Shhh! Y/N is still asleep and put some pants on Tara.” I looked down, forgetting that I only wore a long over shirt over my body.

“Eh fine, I do it in a minute. But first. I want to know about Y/N sleeping in your bed, did you touch first base with them already?”

(Sam’s pov) Of course she would ask that “No Tara I didn’t touch, first base….the hangout with really fun and all but…..I don’t know. Do I really want to put a blind trust In someone again?”

Tara ate her cereal “You “trusted” them enough to sleep in the same bed as you.” She then smirked “Don’t think I didn’t see you cuddling with them, lover girl, last night to be exact. I took a pic of you both because you looked so cute together. The post already has a bunch of likes and still going.”

I almost dropped the bacon when I heard that “You did what?! Why would you post pictures of my private life Tara?! That’s so not cool!”

Tara flinched a bit “Jesus Romeo, don’t get a stick up your ass. But at least everyone will know you can have a romantic relationship with someone.” Sam glares “No Tara that is personal. It’s no one’s business of what I choose to do in my life…look I don’t know if I really want this because, who wants to be in a relationship with the daughter of the first Ghostface killer?”

Tara shook her head “Sam…you really need to stop letting this get to your head and give Y/N a chance. You deserve love too.”

I kept my focus on the bacon “I always tell myself that. You’ve seen how it ended with Ritchie and I can name a few others that were no different than him.”

“Suit yourself” Tara said as she finished her breakfast and went to watch tv in the living room, putting her bare feet on the coffee table again.

I threw the bowl in the sink and bolted to the living room “Tara how many times do I have to tell you?! That is not a footrest!” I pried her legs off the table, earning a glare from Tara. “Well you don’t want to rub my feet. I’m just resting them” she said.

I rolled my eyes “If I give you a foot rub, will you stop putting them on the table?” Tara nodded as I sat down next to her “Alright. Put ‘em here on my lap.”

(Y/N’s pov) My eyes fluttered open from the morning sunlight in the room. “Well that was some dream I just had… I wish it didn’t have to end soon.” Oh well, I’ll see if Sam wants me to help her make breakfast.

As I leave the room to the kitchen, I find Sam sitting on the couch with a girl “Umm am i interrupting something?” The girl bursted out into a laughing fit “Tara stop it!” Sam said. ‘Tara’ quieted down with her hands in her lap.

“Well Sam, are you gonna introduce me to your new “friend or what?” I could have sworn I saw her wink.

Sam clears her throat “Y/N this is my younger sister Tara. Tara this is Y/N my new lov-Friend!” Sam quickly said, hiding her blush but Tara noticed “Weellllll I’m going to get ready to start my day. You two kids have fun here or wherever but not too much.” She said winking once again as she left to her room.

I was stunned “Well your sister is quite….something. At least she doesn’t dislike me, that’s a start.” Sam shook her head “She’s quite a handful and a gremlin. Always never afraid to speak her mind, even if it is the harsh truth…but that’s why I love her.”

I nod “She’s capable of standing up for herself and becoming independent her age, that’s quite impressive. Seems like she learned from her wonderful sister who guided her.” I said, sitting down next to Sam.

Sam smiled then looked down at her watch “I do have to get ready in a bit. You want to share that breakfast with me.?” I nod “I thought I smelled bacon” we both laughed.

(Later)

(Tara’s pov) I was tapping away on my phone in the diner, waiting for Chad to get here. Sam came by noticing that I was here “Did you actually bring money this time or do you want to add another free meal to your huge tab?” I smiled “No, not this time. I managed to bring my wallet.” I picked out the item I wanted then Sam left with the written ticket.

“Ok now to wait for Chad.”

(Sam’s pov) I brought the order ticket over to the cooks then decided to mop the corners when I saw how dirty they were. Y/N really is one of a kind, I’m glad I made a good first impression on them. I smiled as I got the bucket and mopped up the cobwebs and stains.

“Aww my little girl is growing up too fast. Already found a new partner to kill later down the road I see?” Said a voice I’m all too familiar with….I wish I hadn’t heard him but he follows me around like a fly on paper. I looked up to see him sitting at the table in front of me.

“What do you want?! I told you to stop talking to me!” He grinned. “That’s no way to talk to your father now is it Samantha?”

I gripped the mop “I’ll ask one last time. What. Do. You. Want?”

He puts a hand on my shoulder “Nothing really, just concerned about the new (boyfriend/girlfriend) you picked up from the pen again. Still looking for a worthy one just like your old father hm? Only they don’t really know about us.”

I scoffed “There’s no “us.” I’m not like you and never will be!” He crossed his arms with a smirk “You always say that but what’s gonna happen if this new person finds out who you are? Either they would cut you off or attempt to kill you and piss on our legacy like those others did! I hate to be a downer sweetie but you’re gonna end up going down my path again if they choose the second option.”

I gritted my teeth throwing the mop at the wall “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! That wasn’t me becoming Ghostface! I killed Ritchie because he tried to hurt my family! My other relationships left and never came back, because of your stupid legacy!!”

He didn’t speak for a bit but nodded his head “touché princess, touché. It seems like you have a lot to think about. Like it or not, you have to watch your back with this new love interest. Don’t hesitate to use the knife and gut them if you have to” Then he vanished.

I cover my face for a bit and let out a breath before finishing my task.

(Tara’s pov) While I was waiting for my food, I watched an interesting show Sam just put on in the corner. ‘She’s probably thinking about him again. Billy is a part of her after all’ “Hey love, did you order anything for me?” Chad said, laughing. I smiled and shook my head “No big guy I didn’t. But that’s ok because I ordered a decent sized sandwich we can both share.”

He gave me a peck on the lips “Alright, sounds good to me.”

A few minutes later, I see Sam walking out with a tray that had my food. But halfway to the table, she stopped and stood still for a bit. “Sam?” Her eyes went wide for a second and her shoulders tensed. “Sam…you ok?” Then the tray dropped, spilling the food all over the floor. She collapsed, breathing rapidly with her fingertips on her head.

The manager walked out from the kitchen “What’s going on? Sam-“ Chad and I rush over to the pair, I already seen this enough to know what it is

“Sir! She’s-she having a panic attack.” The manager got concerned and reached for the phone “That won’t be needed sir. I’ll handle this.” I walk slowly towards Sam and placed both hands carefully on her arms “Sam…Sam, it’s ok. I’m right here, just breathe carefully ok? Do it with me…1….2….3….breathe.”

Sam relaxed her shoulders and let her hands hold mine as she calmed her nerves down. After a couple of deep breaths Sam was back on her feet but she collapsed into my shoulder, crying her eyes out. I hugged her back, trying my best to comfort her.

“I’ll go clean the mess up” Chad said, I nodded.

(Sam’s pov) I have no words on what just happened an hour ago but the next thing I know, my boss is speaking to me “Sam…I think it’s best if you head home and get some rest, I’ll cover it from here and make sure you get you paid.” It’s clear he wasn’t in the mood for an argument either so I took off my apron and thanked him as I headed home.

Halfway to the apartment, I collect my thoughts.

‘God what I mess I am. I can’t even have one good thing in my life without my dad following me everywhere I go, running his mouth. I hate to say it but he’s not completely wrong. I really like Y/N and all but what makes me think they won’t be another Ritchie? Then I would have to kill them and be lonely once again.’

I wiped my eyes ‘sometimes I wish I could go back and destroy that fucking mask, then yell at my grandfather for driving dad towards insanity.’

As I made it home, I decided to take a shower. I got a few text messages one notably being Y/N saying they would like to do another movie night soon. A few tears rolled down my face and I didn’t have the strength to reply back.

After my shower, I heard a knock on the door “who is it?” I asked. “It’s Y/N” I opened the door and smiled a bit, “hey, what are you doing here?”

Y/N fixed (his/her) hair “Ah yes. I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by and say hello. I also live in this complex too by the way.” I was taken back

“Wow, so I guess we’re new neighbors then?”

“Fraid so” Y/N said.

I rubbed my arm “Well….you can come in if you want. I was just going to pour a cup of wine.” Y/N smiled “My favorite! Make that two cups I will pour for us.”

I sat down on the couch resting my eyes as Y/N offered to serve the wine.

(Y/n’s pov) ‘ok…I have to tell her. This could be my chance to start something new between us’ I whispered as I took the full cups to the living room.

I set the cups down and took a seat next to Sam. We sipped our wine and stayed quiet for a while until I decided to start a small conversation about our hobbies and our takes on romance novels.

“I’ve been….thinking about you a lot.” Sam said, at the end of our conversation. It surprised me a bit but gave me a pinch of excitement! “R-really?”

Sam breathes a bit heavily before speaking “Unfortunately I have been, a lot and….I’m afraid.” I gently took her hand into mine and she accepted.

“What’s there to be afraid of? I was actually going to confess my thoughts to you as well. I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I’m feeling something between us the more we see each other Sam and it still continues to grow.”

Sam nodded her head, frowning “I-I like you Y/N I really do from the bottom of my heart but….I’m just not ready for another relationship yet, I’m sorry.”

I tilt my head down in a bit of disappointment, despite her request to stay with her last night and sleep in the same bed as her. “It’s because of your last relationship isn’t it?” Sam nods

I look up at her. “I understand. I won’t force you or rush into something you don’t want too soon…or at all. I’m fine with us being friends if you want.”

Sam caressed my hand “I think that’s for the best….I just need some time to process everything that’s going on in my messed up life. If I CAN get my head straight then maybe we might have a chance after all.”

I gave her hand one last gentle squeeze “I’ll be waiting for you when that time comes.” Then shared a hug before leaving.

(Later that night)

(Tara’s pov) The arcade was fun a second time! Despite Chad breaking the joystick off the giant claw machine in the end. At least the owner was nice enough to let me have a prize from the machine before throwing us out. Chad dropped me off but had another class tomorrow so he went home to rest.

As I unlocked the door and closed it, I hear Sam’s faint crying coming from the living room. I peek around the corner to see Sam drinking a cup of wine as she let her tears fall.

I wanted to comfort Sam but seeing her in that kind of state told me to leave her alone for a bit. So I went into my room and changed into my night clothes.

“Oh Sam…..what have you done?”

I tried my best to fall asleep, hoping she would be ok to talk about this tomorrow. Or whenever she can.

(To be continued. No worries, am already working on a part three)

[loonfull-sonnetzz]

To Soothe The Ache

Note: I lost motivation for this fic so I decided to just post the WIP since ya'll have been waiting for AGES. Sorry guys :') No beta we die like Frou Frou

༊*·˚Pairing: Alexei Vronsky X Soldier!Transman!Reader

༊*·˚Universe: Anna Karenina (2012)

༊*·˚Summary: You and Vronsky are soldiers and secretly find comfort

༊*·˚Warnings: menstruation, cramps, unsafe binding (do not bind with bandages!! Please!!), historical inaccuracies, mentions of war, probably out of character Vronsky (hadn’t read or watched Anna Karenina sorry :( ) 

༊*·˚WC: 1k

Divider credit: Florietas 

Finally, serenity.

The cavalry unit you had found yourself in had traveled across the Stara Planina, trekking through the jagged peaks and small cliffs while leading the horses, praying to god your foot doesn’t slip on the ice or one of the horses panic from the distant howl of wolves that haunted the vicious winds. All for the sake of fighting off the Ottomans in Serbia. However, the stress was worth it, even as your legs screamed to rest and your eyelids began to go heavy from the restless nights guarding the makeshift camps the unit had made throughout the weeks.

Now your unit had finally left the mountains, finding a decent clearing amongst the soaring pines to rest once again. The wind no longer howls with threats, but whispers along the gently rattled pine needles. Between the spaces of the trees, up high, you could see stars twinkling in the inky night sky, hundreds and thousands of stars gazing down upon you – you could’ve sworn you could see into the eye of the milky way – Something you could never experience in your home city St. Petersburg where the fog and smoke hid the celestials. 

You took a deep breath. One good, deep and well-deserved breath. The crisp winter air filling your lungs, held, then exhaled – coming out as white mist that danced in the dark before dissipating.

But soon enough serenity would not last. Sure, it was relieving to be out late, no longer burdened by your comrades’ complaints and sharing company with the stars, but your body protested. Not just with the ache that dully throbbed in your legs or your eyes that you had to fight to keep open, but the pains that shoot from your hips and to your stomach, an unfortunate reminder of your secret. Stress could do so much before there could be no more delays and the time of the month comes crashing in. Or Alexei Vronsky chiding you for wearing your bandages for too long.

Alexei Vronsky, the man that was just as handsome as his frivolity and ambition, became an unlikely friend. It was all an accident, really. Months ago when they were stationed at some headquarters back home in Russia. Soldiers had to share washrooms, but you were vigilant and always went early in the morning or late at night when it came to changing so no one could know you were born a different boy, a boy who didn’t have the same body as the others. But one of those nights Vronsky was out for a while and returned late, exhausted and accidentally stumbling to the washroom to only catch a brief look as you panicked and slammed the door on his face. 

Even to this day it was hard to know why you had come out to him in the first place. Perhaps it was his hesitant inquiry, or the guilt for being rude for shutting the door on him. Or perhaps something more, that you both didn’t exactly fit societal norms. Vronsky may be charming, ambitious and brave – bearing the image of the perfect soldier, but he is still a man with his own struggles. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t freak out or prodded you with uncomfortable questions as most other people, especially aristocrats like him, usually did.

Shaking your head and pushing the reminiscing thoughts aside, you briskly make your way back to your tent. Your nimble fingers made way to your buttons in a swift fashion, undoing them until the top of your military uniform started to slide down your shoulders and gooseflesh covered your exposed skin. The cold once again reminding you of it’s limited mercy as it bit your flesh and sent chills down your spine. But hypothermia was probably better than cracking your ribs in the long run.

You were already about to unhook the pins that held the bandages before you heard someone clear their throat and call your name. You whipped your gaze at the intruder, stiffening up and crossing your arms over your chest instinctively before you realized who it was.

“Come here, will you?” Alexei murmured, his voice low and soothing like the distant babble of the creek. He drew you slowly enough that you could have pulled back easily. “You’ve already done so much for us since the beginning of this journey, this is the least I could do.”

You felt your face burn from the sudden praise and care, but you soon felt your shoulders droop and arms fall to your sides. He was right in a way, you could collapse at any point if the cramps or your duty as a soldier didn’t keep you up. So you let him trace the pins, unhooking them and unraveling the bandages. Your gaze flickered from his hands to his face, his brows a little furrowed with compassion and concentration as he buttoned up your uniform – not letting a moment of the wintry air freeze you or the discomfort of having your body vulnerable and exposed go on any further.

He catches your gaze as soon as he finishes, his hands lingering on the last button before one glides over to caress your cheek. His worry became more evident on his visage. “Is there something on your mind?”

The lie on your tongue was silenced by another wave of pain, making you hold your own waist and curling further to yourself. Alexei quickly holds you steady, his sapphire eyes flickering all over you to search for the cause of sudden agony.

“I’m bleeding out,” You said with a slightly self-deprecating chuckle, a little amused by Alexei’s fretting to something natural as menstruation. This only confused your fellow comrade before it seemed to click and he sighs and embraces you, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“I’ll be okay, it’s just cramps,” You said, biting down your tongue to smother a wince. But you didn't make an effort to leave and neither did Alexei, who didn’t look convinced by your lame excuse.

“I know, darling. But I'm not leaving your side to suffer this alone. I just want to make you feel better,”  He said, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze again. His hands trailing down to hold onto your hips, the warmth soothing the ache. Alexei then dipped his head down, his soft lips pressed against yours before he whispers against your lips. “How can I be of service?”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Hear ye hear ye

Can u make some more cannons with Bam? I loved your last ones they were so cute, also how do you think Bam would react if he saw someone else being a bit too flirty with the reader lol

Possessive Bam HC’s + Fic!

Bam Margera X Gn!Reader

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, alcohol, unwelcome flirting, violence, masochism, hickeys, biting, marking, kissing

An: This fic was inspired by this post by @ittydoor, which i couldn’t get out of my head until I wrote something based off of it!! Special thanks to @camariesintrusivethoughts for sending it to me in the first place ;D

Bam doesn’t like people touching (or hell, even staring at) things that belong to him,

Namely, you.

So if he caught wind that a guy even looked at you funny, much less started getting flirty with you, the situation could end in one of two ways.

Since he’s a little shit in general, it makes sense that his go to response to someone trying to hit on you would be flaunting that you were his

Let’s set the scene: The two of you are out at some bar and your boyfriend stepped away for a minute to go take a piss,

And he returned to some some asshole tryin’ to chat you up.

“I’m really flattered, but I hav-“

You were cut off by the pair of hands that quietly snaked around your waist. One glance at those rings, and you knew who was behind you

Bam pulled you in close, enough that you could feel the warmth from his torso through his clothes as he leaned his head onto your shoulder, nuzzling against you like a needy cat-

Hell, he was practically purring like one too.

Before making coy eye contact with the guy and flashing him a ‘they’re mine’ grin, “Hey.”

One word, and so much condescension- so much Animal Planet style territory claiming.

Speaking of claiming territory, Bam has all these little ways of showing off that you’re his

Sometimes it was sweet, like when he was a little too eager to loan you his clothes to wear in the morning after you slept over at the castle

Or the delicate, silver heartagram necklace he bought you for your anniversary- this small, unmistakable symbol marking you as his

Other times, however, his methods of letting people know exactly who you belonged to weren't exactly as innocent…

Even if he didn’t have this whole way of viewing you as his territory, Bam’s generally a bit of an affectionate biter,

So no matter where you went, people would be gawking at the little pink love bites that littered your neck and shoulders (much to your boyfriend’s demented amusement)

Point is, what’s his is his, and Bam wasn't shy about letting other people know that.

Which leads me to the other way he’d make sure people know you were his…

The scene and the setting was as follows: it was Saint Patrick’s day, right around two in the morning, and you were walking home from Rex’s with Bam after having spent the night doing what everyone does on a drinking holiday, and maybe it was too dark for that guy at the payphone across the street and his dipshit buddy to see Bam’s arm coiled around your waist or the dark, maroon hickeys that littered your neck, because if they had seen them, they wouldn’t have gotten in this situation. You could’ve sworn you heard one of them murmur, “Nice ass…” to nobody in particular, but you paid him no mind, because you didn’t get that offended when people hit on you.

Bam, on the other hand, did. Very much so.

The guy he was with shot a sleazy glance your way and slurred half drunkenly, “Yeah, I’d fuck ‘em...” That comment is what set your boyfriend off like a cobra who had been waiting to strike, and in a flash he was across the street, swinging his fists in these full force roundhouses- different from the limp, wimpy Bam punches you were used to. Seeing that fight was like going to the zoo and slipping the wolverines angel dust, the way the two- now three of them were duking it out. And Bam was laughing his ass off, enjoying this type of thingway too much, “Yeah? How d’ya like that? Oh yeah, punch me. C’mon, punch me in the-“ Maybe, in some twisted way, he felt like he was defending your honor. Bam’s taunting was brought to a quick stop with a blow to the side of the head as his teeth planted jagged roots into his tongue and he could taste his own blood.

Ducking a punch from the other guy, he turned around and hit him straight on- pow! Like a spring loaded cartoon boxing glove right to the jaw. But Mr. Rubberbones bounced back like he’d done in a thousand stunts and bar fights, with this menichial little glint in his eye, sneering at the guy who just hit him with blood smeared teeth, “Yeah, do it again, fucker- I like that shit.” It was like Tarantino level violence, the badassness of which was not in any way dissuaded by the fact that the cocky smirk plastered across Bam’s face didn’t slip for a second through the torrent of fists.

Just as quickly as it had started, those two dickheads backed off from the two of you with their tails between their legs. That left you, trying to figure out if it was normal you got so turned on watching your boyfriend beat the shit out of two random strangers. Well, you didn’t have to deliberate it much given the way that in the time you were pondering this, Bam had returned to your side and pulled you in, kissing you like a soldier returning from war. His blood mingled with your saliva as he possessively ran his rough hands up your torso in a way to say ‘Mine. This one’s mine’. and you decided yes, it was totally hot.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 22 - Alternate Universe

Summary: It's a dark and stormy night, and a certain musician is looking to get out of the rain.

Word Count: 993

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: DnD References, DnD AU, Fantasy/Adventure AU, Origin Story

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Adventures always started in taverns, didn't they?

That was the thought that crossed Geoff's mind as he escaped the downpour and ducked into the Tinkering Toad.

Of course, adventure should be the last thing on his mind; all he truly desired was a feather bed, a tankard of mead, and some warm food if there was any to be had. If he didn't have enough funds for the three, surely he could rely on his trusty mandolin to help him earn the rest.

But the tavern was full of weary travelers who'd sought refuge from the storm, and the hulking, bald barkeep seemed too busy to be bothered at the moment to be questioned.

Geoff instead looked around for place to sit at the very least, and was lucky as he spotted a small table by the roaring hearth with only two of the four chairs occupied.

He crossed the distance and sheepishly bothered the two souls who were chattering and rolling dice.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I join you?" he asked. "Seems busy tonight."

He was taken aback by the hunched half-orc who snarled, "over my dead body," and then went back to his dice.

His table-mate--a halfling male with fluffy brown curls and a rather...overwhelming war hammer propped beside him--admonished him and then welcomed Geoff to the table.

"The more the merrier," he greeted and gestured to one of the empty chairs. "Dav's just sour because he's losing. Terribly, if I might add."

Dav then cheered as his next roll proved favorable and he grabbed for one of the carved wooden markers from the halfling's pile.

"I believe my luck is about to change, Garrett. Prepare to lose."

Dav's mood improved the more he won, and even more still when Beni the Barkeep strode over with ale and bowls of stew for the two, and then offered the same to the newcomer.

Geoff counted out his coins for the meal and then inquired about a room, happily offering to play for the crowd and raise their spirits if he would have a place to rest his head for the night. Beni agreed and welcomed him to begin whenever he finished his meal.

"I'm no bard," Garrett mentioned through mouthful of stew, "but I'm not a bad musician. I can carry a beat, if you need accompaniment."

"I was about to say, I'd never heard of a singing barbarian before," Geoff laughed heartily. "But I won't say no to any stomps or claps."

Once their meals were finished, he performed and the tavern-goers roused slightly, spirits lifted. They ordered drinks and one couple even danced, and Geoff earned enough coins for a small room upstairs. Relieved knowing he had a place to rest, he got a round for his tablemates.

They shared stories of their journeys over their drinks.

Dav, a ranger, had rescued Garrett from a traveling freakshow. He'd been kept against his will as their resident strongman, and Dav had sworn an oath to see him back to the shire he called home.

"Not hard to pick the little guy up and shove him into a bag as long as he doesn't have that hammer in his hands," Dav teased, earning a pout and clenched fists from Garrett.

Meanwhile Geoff was heading to the capitol to audition for the King and make a name for himself as the greatest performer in the land.

They realized that they'd all be traveling along the Kingsroad for quite some time and although they were relative strangers to one another, they agreed there would be safety in numbers and that traveling together would be the safest.

The company on such a long journey wouldn't be unwelcome either.

"Excuse me," a dulcet, purring voice sounded from the table beside them. The three of them turned to find a hooded figure hunched over his own bowl of stew. A pipe rested beside him on the table, remnants of smoke still emanating from the bowl.

"I couldn't help but overhear," the stranger continued, "that you're planning to travel the Kingsroad. I'd have to warn you, there are many thieves and ne'er-do-wells on the road."

"We'll be safe enough," Garrett dismissed, but the stranger let out a sly chuckle that had Geoff shiver with worry.

"Will you?" the stranger questioned and then turned to glance over his shoulder, revealing a tuft of dark hair and the tip of a pink nose. "Will you really?"

"You speak as though you have some experience sir," Geoff offered. "Do you plan to rob us on the kingsroad?"

The stranger turned fully now, hood of his cloak pushing back to reveal twitching, pointed ears, whiskers, a sly smile with sharp teeth, and golden-brown eyes with pupils so narrow they were just slits.

"Perhaps I am," the tabaxi purred condescendingly. "Or perhaps I'm simply trying to offer...hmmm...you might say guidance or maybe protection...to keep you aware of the more obvious traps and possible ambushes along the road."

Dav grumbled and made to lunge for the stranger to get him to scram and leave them alone, but the tabaxi was too quick, standing toe to toe with him, a sharp knife pressed into Dav's ribs.

"I might also be looking to head toward the Capitol myself," he glanced to Geoff. "Offer my services to the king as well. Maybe pay some...outstanding debts to the Thieve's Guild."

"And what services could you offer to the king?" Garrett snarked. "Rat catcher?"

"Spymaster would be ideal." He let up on the pressure of his knife and then sheathed it faster than any of their eyes could detect.

He turned to Geoff now and offered gloved paw.

"The name is Eddy," he introduced. "And I'm at your service, if you'll have me."

Geoff looked at his other companions.

What a strange group they'd make...maybe adventures did start in taverns after all...

He clapped his hand into Eddy's.

"Welcome to the party."

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 6: No Where to Go

Hero x Villain Masterpost

TW: mentioned abuse, gunshot wounds, running away, death, swearing

Hero stumbled through the night, hand pressed firmly over the throbbing, fiery wound in their side as the rain beat down upon them, soaking them to the skin and filling their shoes with water. Just a little further, they thought to themselves, skirting the halo of light emitted by a nearby lamp post. One more step. Now another.

And another.

Keeping their thoughts in line forced them to focus on walking, on getting to the only place of safety left to them. It kept their thoughts away from the cuts, bruises, and—ONE! MORE! STEP!

Hero was nearing a rough part of the city, and they knew it. But they had to keep moving; this was the last place their former allies would think to look for them. And, hopefully, the person who controlled this section of the city with an iron fist wouldn’t notice them either. Why would Hero, their sworn enemy, seek refuge in their territory? It would be a death sentence.

But, seeking refuge elsewhere also spelled death, so it no longer mattered to Hero. What mattered now was moving erratically, randomly, keeping their former allies guessing.

They heard the police sirens before they saw the car on the road ahead, racing toward them at high speeds. “Shit!”

Hero ducked into a nearby alley and pressed against the wall. They waited, not daring to breathe as the police car screamed past, the flashing lights temporarily blinding them.

They blinked, trying to regain their vision. When they opened their eyes again, a figure had appeared before them. Hero, in their dazed, terrified state, screamed and tried to run, but the figure darted in their path. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Hero?” Whumper said, smirking.

Hero backed away further down the alley. “S—stay back! Don’t…don’t come any closer!”

Whumper chuckled, causing the hairs on Hero's neck to rise. “You're not in a position to make demands like that, Hero.” They stalked closer, keeping just barely out of reach.

“I…I’ll use my powers on you!” Hero threatened. Their voice shook, betraying their fear.

Whumper outright laughed, a loud, explosive sound. Hero flinched back another step. Whumper focused their gaze sharply upon them, the grin on their lips not meeting their eyes. In the dim light from the street, their eyes appeared cold as ice. 

“Go ahead,” they taunted, “by all means, use your powers. Take what concentration's keeping you upright and KILL ME THEN!”

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed in the night.

Whumper’s eyes went wide, and they stumbled backward, putting a hand to their chest. It came away bloody. Their eyes flicked up at Hero, who gaped at the hole directly piercing their heart. Whumper crumbled to the ground like a sadistic, lying, murderous pile of bricks, their cold, cold eyes staring lifelessly.

“Well, they did ask for it,” a voice said from behind Hero in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hero whirled around. Villain stood a few feet behind them, reloading their signature handgun. They turned their cool gaze upon Hero, who staggered back a step. Hero couldn't ignore the throbbing wound in their side any longer. Hot blood welled up, leaking out from the hasty bandage they’d—

“What the hell are you doing here?” Villain demanded. They’d pointed their handgun toward the ground, but Hero had seen them in action; they knew how fast they could aim and fire.

Hero’s breathing came faster now. Darkness threatened to close in on their vision. “I…” they stammered, “I… I didn’t… didn’t have… anywhere…”

Their knees buckled beneath their weight, and they collapsed. Something clattered on the ground. Hero realized Villain had dropped their gun to catch them. Villain’s eyes were wide, staring at the gaping wound in Hero’s side. Blood stained their hands as they held Hero upright. 

“What the hell did they do to you?”

Was that… concern? For Hero, Villain’s own worst enemy? Hero almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re safe now. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hero smiled. “I… I hoped you… would…” they murmured as consciousness retreated. The last thing they registered before the sweet unknowing of darkness enveloped them was movement, Villain carrying them somewhere unknown.

To safety.

Part 2 | Part 3