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charliedawn · 1 year ago

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GOT characters x Reader

"Please. Dance with me."

Sandor Clegane :

Sandor was standing near the exit—ready to call it a night. He was tired of seeing all those high borns dancing and getting drunk on expensive Dornish wine. But when he was about to leave, he felt an arm wrap around his and looked down to find you—clinging to his arm. He was about to ask what the hell you were doing when he noticed how terrified you seemed.

"Please…Don’t let him take me."

You were on the verge of tears. He looked in the direction you were staring at and found some lord with a sleazy smile on his face. He was walking your way and Sandor instinctively raised his hand to clasp it on your arm.

"The lady’s taken. Piss off."

He felt you tense up next to him, but his hand on top of your arm kept you in place as the man decided to finally leave. Once he was gone, you wanted to thank him…But, Sandor pulled away and walked away.

…He needed a drink.

Daenerys Targaryen:

When a man offered you a dance, you smiled and tried to politely decline the offer. But, the man wasn’t having no for an answer. Finally, he grabbed your arm as you were about to leave. Fortunately, Daenerys arrived just in time and stood between the both of you.

"I believe she has been quite clear. She doesn’t want to dance with you."

The man was about to protest, but quickly reconsidered. He left and you let out a sigh of relief. But, as you were about to thank her, Daenerys turned towards you with a soft smile before offering you her hand.

"Would you like to dance with me instead ?"

Her hand was opened invitingly and her eyes showed nothing but good will. So, you took her hand with a smile.

"I would be honoured, khaleesi."

Ser Jorah :

"Would you dance with me, Ser Jorah?"

Jorah looked up at your hand and was about to politely decline your offer when he noticed your uneasy smile and the other man standing a few feet away behind you. He immediately understood the situation and smiled before taking your hand.

"It would be an honour, my lady."

He kissed the back of your hand and you smiled before being led away. You swayed left and tight slowly together and even though Ser Jorah only wanted to dance to help you—he found himself enjoying it as well. You closed your eyes and didn’t even think about your 'problem'.

You just enjoyed the dance until the very last moment when you had to part.

"Thank you."

Whether it was you or him who said it first—neither of you could tell.

Brienne of Tarth :

Brienne had just won her final battle for the tournament organised by your father. She had put to the ground many of your father’s best knights and when her face was revealed…You were immediately impressed. A woman of such strength on your side would surely end in a successful alliance.

So, you waited.

You waited and when it was time to celebrate, your eyes landed on the fiercest woman who had succeeded in defeating most fighters of the court. Her eyes didn’t settle on you however.

You felt a little disappointed by it, but the night was far from over. You tried again and again to get her to see you, but she always seemed to escape your sight. Finally, you decided to give up and sit down. But, you then felt a hand land on your shoulder and when you looked up, you found one of your father’s choices staring down at you with a malicious smile.

You tried to tell him no. He ignored your request.

But, he finally listened when the woman you had been trying to talk to suddenly appeared behind you in all her armoured glory. She didn’t need to speak a word as the man immediately released you and walked away.

"Are you alright, my lady ?" She asked you and you replied with a smile of your own.

"I am now."

Jon Snow :

Many people had warned you about Jon Snow. Some called him the King of the North—others a demon. You weren’t really interested in rumours though, but by the truth.

Hence, you had accepted to go and meet with him.

A war was brewing and you knew that strong allies were necessary. However, when you found yourself in front of the man who claimed to be Jon Snow, you immediately knew it couldn’t be him. The man before you couldn’t possibly be the King of the North. He wasn’t a giant. He wasn’t heavily armed. Or looked like a living dead. He seemed…normal.

"I am Jon Snow."

"..."

You looked him up and down.

Before he could say another word, you threw a dagger at him and he didn’t even flinch as it landed in a tree behind him. You both stared at each other for a minute until you finally smiled.

That man was Jon Snow.

For you saw no fear of death in his eyes.

"A pleasure to meet you, my King." You introduced yourself and bowed before him. "…The man who danced with Death and survived."

Tyrion Lannister:

"No."

Tyrion was aware of your situation. He knew perfectly well of the unfortunate circumstances of your upcoming betrothal. But…He couldn’t bring you even more dishonour by agreeing to dancing with you.

"Do not look so disappointed, my lady. Even though I am sure you are quite lovely, I wish you to spare yourself the humiliation of dancing with an imp."

Such harsh words which ignited a general hilarity that made you red in the face with fury. But, not against Tyrion. You didn’t blame him for his refusal. You knew how it sounded and the pain behind such a request. But, you didn’t want to give up. So…You did something that no person had ever dared. You knelt before him—your eyes staring at the floor in respect.

"I see no imp. I see a valorous and just prince. And I still wish to dance with you. Please."

It made the crowd around you fall silent. Tyrion’s eyes widened and he seemed speechless for a while. But, he finally smiled before slowly reaching for your chin to lift it up so your eyes may meet.

"…Don’t you lower your gaze. You hold more bravery and wit than anyone else in this room. And if that is truly your wish ? Then I would be more than happy to dance with you."

Jaime Lannister:

You were sitting down when you felt a presence in front of you as you ate. Your eyes looked up to find your ‘fiancé'. He was looking at you with such disgust that all food got stuck in your throat. You knew it was but an arranged marriage, but everyone knew that your betrothed hated your family with passion. Your eyes glanced away and met with another man. He smiled at you. You smiled back.

Unfortunately, your betrothed caught the exchange and suddenly grabbed your arm—ready to strike. But before he could as much as lay a finger on you, the tip of a sword was pressed against his throat.

The room fell silence as none other than Jaime Lannister had come to your rescue.

"I believe this is no way to treat a woman—even less a lady."

He then sat down next to you and smiled before eating next to you—an arm wrapped around you. The message was clear. And the man left.

"…You will get in trouble for this." You warned him, but Jaime replied with a cocky smile.

"I am a Lannister. And lions are not scared of insects."

Oberyn Martell :

You were trying to leave the party. This was too much. A man was persistently trying to get a dance with you, but you didn’t want to dance with a man who surely did not care about you. You were almost there when you collided with another man who grabbed you before you could fall to the floor.

You looked up and your eyes widened as you saw who it was.

"Prince Oberyn of Dorne…" You gasped and the man gave you a small smile before looking behind you at the man following you.

"Is this man bothering you, my lady ?"

You gulped and suddenly took his hand. If you were to say anything, your father would blame you.

"Please. Would you dance with me, Prince of Dorne ?" You asked and the man following you seethed.

"You were promised a dance with m—!"

"I believe the lady asked ME for a dance." Oberyn cut him off with his usual charismatic smile. "Unless your title happens to also be Prince of Dorne."

The man huffed before walking away and you let out a sigh of relief. You were about to leave when Prince Oberyn grabbed your wrist.

"Now now…Where are you going, little sunflower ?"

You frowned in incomprehension until Oberyn smiled again and pulled you flush against him.

"…I believe you owe me a dance."

Peter Baelish (Littlefinger) :

Lord Baelish had had your eyes on you for a while and he knew that being part of your powerful family would be extremely valuable. Hence, he asked your father for your hand. But, there were too many contenders for him to even be considered as a good choice. So…He observed you.

You were young, but promising as you danced with grace and proper etiquette with all your possible choices. But, he could see right through you. You weren’t exactly happy to be here. And when one of your possible betrothed stepped on your foot.

He stepped in.

He took your hand and almost pulled you away from the man. You were about to thank him, but Baelish had other plans.

"What will you give me for my rescue ?" Baelish asked you. You sighed. Of course he’d want a reward for acting like the hero he wasn’t.

"What do you want ?"

Baelish seemed to think about it before offering you his hand with a smirk.

"A dance."

Your eyes stared at his hand suspiciously. But, at this point ? You would have accepted anyone’s help in order to escape. He pulled you flush against him and started dancing with you. Your eyes widened as he led you away to the center or the room.

He knew everyone could see the both of you, but he didn’t stop—not even when you tried to pull away.

"Lord Baelish…That’s enough."

Your father tried to stop him, but Lord Baelish only smirked before surprising everyone by kissing you. Your eyes widened and you were momentarily took off guard. When he pulled away, he smirked before glancing challengingly at your father.

"Now…About my wedding proposal ?"

Sansa Stark :

"My lady…Would you please give me the chance of a dance ?" You asked Sansa who hesitated for a moment before smiling and slipping her hand in yours. You smiled before kissing the back of it and led her to the dance floor. Sansa had always wished for someone to take her hand and make her feel like a princess.

She had first thought Joffrey to be the one, but that felt like eons ago. She had long learned her mistake. But, it didn’t mean she didn’t still wish for someone to make her remember what it felt like when her innocence and virtue were still recognised.

And you were more than happy to make her remember who she used to be.

"You are beautiful." You told her truthfully and she smiled.

She even graced you with a small chuckle as you made her twirl and made sure not to touch her that might trigger her in any way. After her awful treatment under Ramsay, you only wanted her to feel at ease. At peace.

And she knew it.

When she looked at you and a smile graced her lips—your heart seemed to skip a beat.

The pretty wolf was still a stealer of hearts, and you couldn’t wait for her to devour yours.

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mrslovettn · 11 months ago

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Gwen-

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #wednesday #larissa weems x reader

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franouo · 11 months ago

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Lipstick Display

If you don't give up I wouldn't care, you know, I could go on until eternity, I don't get tired easily...

I never quit.

I know Ser.

How about... a truce?

Mhh, I'm not sure, I'm enjoying the view...

M'Lady...

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I'm still kind of nervous about posting this, it's the first drawing of this kind I've ever finished, so if something looks off pls let me know so i can keep improving :D, honestly i'm proud of the faces and Larissa's hair, the background it's kinda meh, but anyway hope u like it I put a lot of effort in this one, so pls enjoy 🫂🫂 🖤🖤🖤

Tag Petition: @theswordmaiden

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #gwendolineuniverse #lgbtq #larissa weems fanart #brienne of tarth #larissa x y/n #wednesday #larissa weems smut #ser brienne

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rippersz · 10 months ago

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𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚

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(Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader) (NSFW: Cunnilingus, Overstimulation; Fluff) (~1.3K words)

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Brienne held the kindest soul. Always hidden behind a tough exterior, yes, but kind nevertheless. She was so eager to be of service and fight for her honor, for her morals, for her people. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the best of her ranks. The best of her warriors. Perhaps not as strong as some of the men, but definitely more intelligent. Definitely more lithe. Quick, even in her armor. Brutal, even in her training.

You enjoyed watching from the walls of the castle, looking down at the training grounds with amused eyes as she barked orders and corrected stances and cut down a few arrogant souls with one swift slash of her sword. It wasn’t very funny to her, but sometimes, in the dark of night beneath your blankets, you were able to pull a laugh or two from her tired body. Gossiping about how stupid and oaf-ish some of the men could be, and mimicking their silly deep voices so outrageously that she was forced to wack at your shoulder and roll her eyes in eternal exasperation. You delighted in those moments, especially when you could lean over and push a smooshed sloppy kiss onto her cheek - giggling when she shoved you away and pretended to get sick into her palm. Also a tactic to hide the blush on her face, but you never confronted her about it.

Though it was no surprise, of course, for a woman like Brienne to take her passion for combat into other areas of her life. Her vigor when mounting and riding her horse, the quick sharp movements of her hand and her penmanship, and the way she pulled on her armor without needing help. All done with a certain level of dedication and precision. All done without complaint. You admired those qualities about her, and you told her so often.

You told her so often… when you weren’t being fucked dumb on top of her face. Held by her strong hands. With a dedicated, precision-focused Brienne looking up at you through hooded lashes.

She was flushed and sweating, with the soft baby hairs at her temples slicking back into the rest of her golden locks. Splayed out like a halo on the front of the feathered pillow. She was an absolute vision there, your warrior. Eyes so dark and sharp, watching the way your breasts bounced and your lips parted - swollen from the biting kisses she placed there not too long ago. Something had happened earlier in the day that led to her desperation. The very moment the door to your quarters was closed and locked, those calloused hands were running to your hips and bringing you in. Closer and closer and closer to her, until she nearly ripped the shirt from her head and the dress from your body.

“I’ve missed you,” she huffed into your ear before pressing hot kisses down the line of your neck, trailing her tongue in a delightful little dance across your skin. You were so sensitive for her, and so familiar with being in control, that the loss of it had you losing your courage.

“You saw me- oh gods- e-earlier,” was your whispered response, though it was shoved out of your mouth by the hand that wound itself into your hair and tugged backward.

“I don’t care,” Brienne seethed. “I always miss you.” And the softness that came with such words was only reserved for you. In front of others, she wouldn’t dare, but there were no others there. It was only you, grasping her shoulders, and her, leaning down and walking you toward the bed.

The bed, where she had you falling apart.

The bed, which you could barely see because dear fucking gods her tongue was ruining your senses. It was an eager thing. Absolutely hungry. Running over your clit in perfect circles, flicking and teasing and pulling soft whimpers from your chest. Stroking the flames of your desire, building them up and up and up until they swallowed you whole. From the prickles of heat at the base of your skull all the way to your curling toes and shaking thighs. You were so sensitive, pushing yourself against the wall to stop yourself from losing balance, utterly embarrassed to feel the drool leak out of your mouth as the overwhelming tide of bliss came over you again. And again. And again. Washing away your thoughts, your earthly desires, and leaving a raw woman behind. Shuddering above the wicked mouth of your lover, with her sharp jaw burning in exertion and her sweet brow furrowed, too concentrated to care about her tired muscles. Long fingers kept you pinned, digging into the crease of your thigh and tummy, and her arms flexed with the strength it took to keep you still and open for her. At her dear excruciating mercy. Quivering on top of that handsome face and feeling your muscles clench eagerly when she filled you up with her tongue and moaned. Forcing the warm flutters from your body while she closed those gorgeous blue eyes and lapped at your mess.

“B-Brienne- please!” Your words were slurred and sloppy, mumbled helplessly against the wall. Every part of your body crumbled from the exquisite burn. “Please- ungh- can’t-”

But Brienne didn’t care if you could or couldn’t. The only response you got was a throaty groan and a small quirk of pale, wet lips. Her silent pleasure at your beautiful praise. Her gentle purrs at your eager whines. She was more than willing to drown in you - if only it meant you were satisfied and happy and so tired by the end of it that she wouldn’t have to feel embarrassed about you being the ‘big spoon’. That is, of course, if your arms ever became strong enough to hold her again. It was far too easy to lose yourself in the pleasure she gave, desperate and starved, and when your hands ran to tangle themselves in her soft hair, she seemed to know that just for a moment- you had had enough.

“Dear gods Brienne!” You huffed as soon as her arms pulled you down toward her chest and she had enough leverage to flip you around and put herself on top. “That- I-” a soft whine bubbled up from your throat, swiftly cutting off your words when she leaned down and pressed soft pecks to your cheeks and neck. They were easy and light, so quick and delicate on your skin that they could’ve been raindrops. Your eyes slid closed with bliss. Whatever you were going to say was lost to the feeling of her chest pressing into your own and the sweet subtle hum between your legs.

“Are you alright?” Brienne murmured, shoving her mouth against the space above your heart to grant it the sweetest of kisses.

All you could give her, your darling warrior, was a pleased grunt. You were more than alright. You were loved. Cared for. You were pleasured within an inch of your life and intelligent conversation was far above you then. Perhaps after a warm night together, you’d be able to return the favor in the morning. Though Brienne was never the type of woman to care so much about reciprocation, and the soft amused snort she responded with was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

“Can I- tomorrow- hng.” You stuttered, waving your hand like a white flag in the air. Too tired to bother stringing together a proper sentence.

Brienne’s smile was small and full of pride when she sat up.

“Rest now, love,” she leaned in and swiped her thumb along your cheek, silently admiring you in all of your sensitive glory. “And we’ll see about tomorrow.”

Well. You heard the woman. And there was no need for her to tell you twice.

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Short but sweet. - Rip x

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Tags: @oddball21 @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @opalthefrog @shyladyfan @erablaise-blog @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @lex13cm @sugipla @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @eveymay @one-pining-queer @azu-zu @niceminipotato @syrenacrainn @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @scarlettssub @willisnotmental @gela123 @zillahofviolets-bayolet @the-bearr @amateurwritescm @h-doodles

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#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne of tarth x fem!reader #fem!reader #brienne got #got brienne of tarth #got brienne #wlw fanfic #wlw ns/fw fanfic #got fanfiction #wlw

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weemssapphic · 10 days ago

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Am I no good?

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

“I loved him. I loved him and I-” She chokes on her own words, unable to verbalize what she did - but she doesn’t need to, you know already, and Brienne doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You don’t either.

CW: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - see A/N at end Cannibalism, slight gore, necrophilia, trauma, hallucinations, night terrors, hurt/comfort, smut, several mentions of Braime

Words: ~7.5k | ao3 link in title

Brienne gets night terrors.

As a member of the Kingsguard your room is adjacent to the Lord Commander’s and one night, not long after her return from the North, you’d woken to a blood-curdling scream that had pierced even the thick walls of the Red Keep’s tower. The Lord Commander had been, for a few terror-inducing minutes, inconsolable; thrashing about, trying to get out of bed, and, being that you were both closest to her and the only other woman amongst the knights, your peers had bowed out and left you to ‘deal’ with her.

At first you’d tried to restrain her, resulting in an accidental black eye. You’d changed your tactic as a result, tried to be gentle with her, coo her back to sleep - which, fortunately, had worked. Then the next night, it had happened again, and again you’d stayed with her until she’d fallen back asleep. Soon after, she’d begun to sleepwalk, and so, to prevent her from getting hurt, you’d started sleeping on a pile of furs on the floor beside her bed.

Eventually, and as your relationship with Brienne had slowly changed, evolved into something, you’d started sleeping beside her in bed - anything to keep her from hurting herself, to help lull her back into a fitful sleep.

It had never been like this before, not in the time you’d known Brienne, anyway. She’d always been a light sleeper, sure, but a sound one. Even after the most brutal of battles, she’d never even woken with a start from a nightmare as you and so many of your fellow knights had. But something had changed when she’d gotten back. Something had changed since she’d lost Jaime.

She talks in her sleep now, too. That’s partially how you know what happened during all those months when she was in the North.

When it first started, you thought the sleep talking was just a part of whatever nonsensical dream (or, more likely, nightmare) she was having, conjured up, perhaps, by the imagination of a person who has seen too much and suffered too greatly.

But then she’d woken with a start one night. It wasn’t a night terror - though she was clearly upset, she was fully lucid. This time, she didn’t scream. Didn’t thrash. Instead, she’d clung to you like a little girl, curling up against you in a way she never had before, seeking comfort. She confessed in hushed, shaky whispers between suppressed sobs the terrible things that had happened in the North. The unforgivable things that she’d done in the North. The real reason why half of her Kingsguard had disappeared. The real reason why Jaime hadn’t returned by her side.

~~~

You’ve known Brienne for years, becoming a member of her Kingsguard when she’d become Lord Commander. She’d wanted a woman under her command, and so she’d knighted you herself. The two of you had quickly become friendly with one another, sharing the unique bond of being women in a still male-dominated profession (and wasn’t that an understatement).

Though you found yourself slowly and quietly falling in love with her, your bond had never gone past friendship - it couldn’t, not with Jaime by Brienne’s side. Not when the tall, blonde knight looked upon her lover as if he held within him the key to the universe. Her first love.

Still, you were, out of all the knights in her Kingsguard, out of all her friends, closest to Brienne, and it filled with you a subconscious sense of smugness. It made you feel special, that the strong, courageous, just, loyal, beautiful Brienne of Tarth would value your company, your opinions. That she would consider you, as she once told you, her equal, a true friend. That she held love for you, even if it wasn’t romantic love, even if it wasn’t the same kind of love you held for her. It was clear you meant something to her, and the memory of the love shared between the two of you is what you would cling to in the many months during her absence.

King Bran had had official business in the North. Some threat looming past Winterfell, beyond the Wall. Whispers of White Walkers returning - mostly fear-mongering, Brienne had figured. But King Bran had made for Winterfell to convene with the Kingdom of the North, and the Lord Commander and her Kingsguard had followed, to protect him firstly and then to head even farther north towards the Wall and beyond, to scout out the supposed threat.

Except for you. You’d been nursing a fresh injury at the time of departure, and it had been deemed too risky to allow you to join, lest the threat be real and your injury be your downfall. Brienne had tasked you with taking over some official duties during her absence - in a month or two they’d all be back, anyway. On the day that they’d left, she’d left you at the entrance of the Red Keep with a smile on her lips, that kind of crooked, cheeky one she had reserved solely for you. The one that would be seared onto the backs of your eyelids, conjured up every time you closed your eyes, for months to come.

~~~

She shouldn’t have followed that absolute dolt’s directions, Brienne thinks bitterly. She trusts her men, she truly does - she wouldn’t have appointed them to her Kingsguard if she didn’t. But today, for the first time, she wishes she could strangle one of them with her bare hands - the one who led them off the path, convinced he’d known exactly where they were going, until it had become clear that he had absolutely no idea.

They set up camp for the night and Jaime has to calm Brienne down in her tent as the others set about lighting a fire. The cold is brutal this far north - it cuts at their skin and claws its way down to their bones, and Brienne huddles close to Jaime to share in the warmth he always seems to radiate.

Despite the cold, and despite how tired he is after trekking through the snow all day, Jaime cracks a joke, and despite how cold and tired she herself is, Brienne chuckles and rests her head on his shoulder. He reassures her that they’ll get a good night’s sleep and find their way tomorrow, and they’ll only really have lost a few hours, a few miles, at most.

Brienne trusts him.

A few hours and a few miles turn into a few days and a few more miles. It seems to Brienne, the more time passes, that the vast, icy wilderness of the North is actively conspiring against them - dead set on keeping them from both their goal and, in turn, from returning to Winterfell.

At first, it’s more of a nuisance than anything. They still have plenty of food and water. They camp out each night, huddle around the fire, weary from trekking for miles and seemingly getting no closer to anything. But optimism lingers - they’ll find their way soon, Brienne thinks, and Jaime affirms her, and her other men agree. They trust her.

Once, after a particularly long day and to keep Brienne’s spirits up, Jaime makes love to her - or tries to, anyway. The biting chill ruins it a bit, he can’t focus long enough to keep it up, keeps going soft as the cold seeps into his bones and makes his teeth chatter. Brienne cannot help but to find it funny - she laughs, and Jaime shushes her, a little embarrassed, but at least he’s made her pale lips turn up into a rare smile, and at least she’s holding him close and wrapping him up in her strong, loving embrace underneath their furs, and at least they have each other.

~~~

A few weeks in, one of her men falls ill from the cold, already weakened from the lack of sustenance as their food supply has dwindled down to nothing. He develops a cough, complains of chest pains. He stops often, slows down the group. Wheezes audibly as he clambers to keep up with the others. He’s feverishly warm and he looks to be a hopeless case. In just a few days, he’s gone - he dies in his sleep, and Jaime is the one to find him beside the fire, unmoving.

What ensues after will haunt Brienne for the rest of her life.

She suggests that they hold a short funeral for the fallen knight, burn the body then continue on, in the hopes of finding their way back to Winterfell - their plans to scout out the threat past the Wall all but abandoned, so long as they make it out of the North’s unforgiving clutches alive. Everyone agrees, and they use the extra wood they have for the fire to build a small, makeshift funeral pyre. Brienne says a few words and Jaime lights the fire, sets the warrior’s body ablaze.

After a somber moment of silence, Brienne orders her knights to pack up camp. One of them lingers near the pyre, staring at the charred body of his former peer, stepping closer even as the others turn their backs to him. He ignores his Lord Commander when she says it’s time to leave. He’s hungry, he says - yes, we all are, the Lord Commander replies, a bit impatiently.

They could use the strength, they need to eat something, he argues, or they’ll meet the same fate as the knight roasting over the fire. Brienne doesn’t understand - until she does. Then she’s horrified, by both the suggestion itself and the lack of horror that the rest of her knights display. She argues - Jaime tries to back her up - but they’re overruled.

As her men feast on the body of the fallen knight, she sits on a fallen tree trunk away from the group. She refuses to eat one of her Kingsguard for breakfast.

But things are never that easy. Her men have had a taste of the meat. They remember, finally, what it’s like to have full bellies, to have enough energy to carry themselves through the day, to keep their legs going for miles on end. And, with that, any trust that Brienne has in her knights, and they in her, slowly disintegrates.

The North is a strange place, and it has a tendency to drive even the most composed, civilized men mad. Hunger, also, has a tendency to drive men mad. And driven mad they are. With no knowledge of how much longer they’ll be stuck out in the wilderness, and thus no knowledge of when their next meal will be or where it will come from, with a taste for the flesh that may be their only chance at survival in the barren wasteland beyond the Wall, the knights begin to practically search for reasons to turn on one another.

So, inevitably, begins what haunts Brienne for the rest of her life - the Hunt.

It’s simple: Hunt or be Hunted. Kill or be Killed. Eat or be Eaten.

It’s almost a blur to Brienne.

Except for Jaime. When it comes to Jaime, she remembers every detail vividly. Too vividly.

Jaime twists his ankle one day, starts to limp a bit as he drags himself through the snow. Brienne pulls him roughly aside, her brow furrowed with fury and her grip tight.

“You cannot let them see that you’re hurt. You have to walk normally, goddamnit,” she spits out. The words are filled with vitriol - because she’s afraid. Terrified. If any of the other knights sense his weakness, Jaime will be next. And, for all that he’s one of the strongest, most strategic warriors Brienne has ever known, even Jaime cannot outrun a group of hunger-crazed men on a twisted ankle.

He insists that he’ll try, but Brienne can see the doubt in his eyes - she can feel it when he kisses her and soothes his hands down her arms; the hesitation, the trepidation. Her heart thumps so loudly she’s sure he can hear it, too.

Try as he might, even Jaime Lannister is unable to escape his fate. The knights are restless - it’s been two weeks again (or maybe three?) since their last proper meal, and they’re hungry. Brienne is hungry, too, but when Jaime suggests he sacrifice himself so that she can eat, knowing that he’s growing too weak to go on as the pain in his ankle spreads up his leg, she gets angry. Brienne knows he’s getting weaker, but such a sacrifice is unthinkable.

“Get. Up!” Brienne shouts vehemently, the blood flowing through her veins turning to ice when, as the group treks through the snow one afternoon, Jaime feels a sharp pain in his leg and falls to the ground. She doesn’t like the resignation in his gaze, she doesn’t like how the others advance on him like he’s prey, she doesn’t like how she’s powerless to stop them because she knows, even if she fights for Jaime - defends his life - that he’s a lost cause one way or the other. She doesn’t like the sound Jaime’s neck makes as it snaps at the hands of one of her men.

She insists on being the one to handle his body and, because she’s still their Lord Commander but mostly because the others know they’ll have full bellies in a few hours, they let her. They give her privacy as they wait, huddling around the fire they’ve built.

Jaime’s eyelashes are frosty, and Brienne places her hand over his eyes, closes them. His lips are blue - they’re cold against her own and the absence of his warm breath makes her heart clench. She pushes her tongue into his mouth, exploring, memorizing. One last taste. Tears burn her cheeks - it’s not the same when he doesn’t kiss back. She flicks her tongue against his - still, unmoving - and moans, and it turns into a sob.

She rests her forehead against Jaime’s, her breath tickling his face, her tears dripping onto his cheeks, her hands starting to undo his furs, his cloak, his armor, his shirt - lovingly, almost as if she were undressing him, as she often used to do, after a long day of work. She places her hands on his bare chest. It’s cold. His lungs don’t expand and his heart doesn’t beat. It feels both achingly familiar and completely alien to Brienne. She tosses his clothing to the ground, the pieces of his armor clattering against each other and disrupting the quiet peace of the forest. Her hands move to his trousers - as she undoes them, her lips trail down his jaw, his beard scratching at her skin in a familiar sort of way. She reaches his pulse point and sucks - she pretends she can feel a pulse, she smiles in spite of herself and she sucks and sucks and sucks at his skin, before kissing her way down the column of his throat, his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his shallow breaths.

Jaime’s trousers and undergarments join the rest of his clothing in the snow, and Brienne’s hands curl around his upper thighs as her lips find the crease between his hip and his thigh. She breathes him in and lets out a shuddering moan, and she can feel his hands scratch at her scalp, pull at her golden locks. She squirms - it makes her wet. She can feel his hips rise beneath her lips and her fingernails scratch at his outer thighs as she runs her tongue along the seam of his crotch.

Her stomach rumbles audibly and she sobers, just enough to pull back from the cold, unmoving corpse of her dead lover, hunger and guilt promptly replacing her arousal.

She straightens, reaches for the knife at her side, places the blade against Jaime’s chest. She sniffles and uses her free hand to wipe the remaining tears and a bit of snot off her face. Then she makes a clean cut down the length of Jaime’s torso.

There’s a ritualistic quality to her movements. She prepares his corpse with precision, her mind going blank, blissfully blank, as she saws off his extremities, removes his organs. It’s serene, ceremonial, as if she’s in a trance.

Later that evening, as Brienne lifts a chunk of warm, tender meat to her lips, chews it slowly, savors it, she feels a warm glow in her chest. As if Jaime is now with her, always - a strange, twisted sense of intimacy unfurling within her, a wave of peace washing over her.

~~~

When you first see Brienne again, you run to hug her, but something stops you in your tracks. She stands still, watching you stoically, trembling. You reach out to touch her but she shrinks away from your hand. You’re so focused on her that it takes you a moment to notice that she’s only come back with two of her men, and that Jaime isn’t one of them.

All you know is that the expedition in the North was unsuccessful - with no further details as to what happened, or why your Lord Commander and her men were gone for so long. You hope that she’ll let you comfort her as time passes, that she’ll confide in you, but she doesn’t. King Bran works out a plan for Brienne to slowly take over her duties again, the ones you’ve been carrying out - she insists upon it, and he trusts her. The next few weeks are filled with strained council meetings, and it’s the only time Brienne allows you to interact with her, only ever about ‘official’ topics, skillfully side-stepping anything remotely resembling something personal, anything to do with her time in the North, anything to do with Jaime.

Until the night terrors begin.

~~~

You pass Brienne on your way to breakfast the morning after her first night terror. The corridor is narrow and, with each of you clad in armor, you have to turn to the side a bit as you pass each other in order to not bump shoulders. Brienne’s gaze sweeps your face, then pauses. It gets stuck on the fresh bruise around your eye, and her brows knit together in confusion.

“How did this happen?” she asks softly, raising her hand to your face but stopping just shy of touching you, as if she can’t bear to. Her fingers twitch and she drops her arm back down to her side.

You frown. “You don’t remember?”

She’s silent for a moment - you can almost hear the cogs turning in her head. She shakes her head, a strand of hair falling onto her forehead. It takes all of your restraint not to reach out and brush it back with your fingertips.

You almost want to make up a lie as to what happened - you don’t want to put her through any more misery than she’s already experiencing. But you know it’ll all come out sooner or later, so you tell her the truth.

As you explain what had happened, the lines on Brienne’s face deepen, her skin grows pale, her lips part to let out a shaky breath. Then she presses her lips into a hard line, offers you a slight nod of her head. There is an apology in her eyes, unspoken - she brushes past you and disappears around the corner without another word.

She doesn’t join you and the rest of the Kingsguard (what few men had been left, and a couple of newly appointed men) for breakfast, nor does she show up at lunchtime, and her seat remains empty at suppertime. You contemplate going to her chambers and seeing if she’ll talk to you. Remembering how unwilling she was to say even a word to you this morning, you decide against it - though you’re woken once again by a piercing scream at a quarter to four in the morning.

Again you sit with her, try not to touch her, to just let her screaming and thrashing run its course as you coo at her as you would a child. Again it works, but this time you linger a bit longer by her bedside once she’s fallen back asleep, just watching her.

Guilt muddles the sympathy and longing that gnaw a deep pit into your stomach. Brienne looks almost angelic, curled up on her side in the soft glow of moonlight filtering in through the window. It renders the eyelashes on one half of her face translucent, the other side cast in deep shadow. Her chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths, her hair falls in sweaty strands across her forehead, her fingers twitch against the furs on her bed - it makes you long to curl up against her back, wrap your arms around her waist, bury your nose in her hair, feel her lungs take in air and her heart pump blood and all the things that make her alive and real. Watching Brienne sleep, a dam inside you breaks - all of the feelings you’d suppressed for her sake, for Jaime’s sake, come bubbling to the surface.

~~~

Against your will, you’ve fallen into a routine with Brienne.

Neither of you talk about it. You’ve never been more intimate with her, and yet you’ve never felt so separate from her. The worst part is that you can tell she feels the same, but whatever happened to her is preventing her from opening up to you. So you give her the space she needs during the day, and try to reign in your emotions during the night.

Your little routine changes after about a week and a half when, lying wide awake and staring at the ceiling, you hear the creak of a door. Padding to your own door and peering out, you see Brienne exiting her room.

“Brienne?” you call out.

She ignores you, closing her door behind her, and you creep into the hall, the stone floor cold as ice beneath your bare feet.

“Brienne, where are you going?”

“We need food, or we’re going to die out here,” she hisses urgently. You furrow your brow. What the hell is she on about?

“Brienne, it’s the middle of the night. Are you okay?”

“Make yourself useful and get wood for the fire.”

It takes a moment but then it hits you - she’s not awake. She thinks she’s still out there, in the North. You approach her cautiously, well aware that one wrong move could get you punched in the eye again.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” you say softly, stepping in her way to prevent her from heading towards the stairs. You gently point Brienne back towards her chambers, trying to coax her into going back to bed with promises of finding food and getting her warm. Eventually you succeed and she’s crawled beneath her furs once more.

Sitting gingerly at the edge of her bed, every muscle in your body stiff as a board and every hair standing on end, you watch her intently, waiting until her eyes have fallen shut and her breathing has evened out. Even then, the thought of leaving her alone like this nearly kills you - you’re not sure you’re in your right mind but, spotting a woven blanket on the chair in front of Brienne’s wardrobe, you take it to her bedside and wrap it around yourself as you settle on the ground.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you try to generate enough warmth to be able to fall asleep. You’re only partially successful and sleep finds you an aching, shivering mess sometime just before dawn - only once your mind, running rampant with worries, has finally tired itself out enough to allow for an hour or two of rest.

~~~

Dawn breaks, the first rays of early morning sun licking at the windowsill, spilling onto the dusty floor of Brienne’s chambers and illuminating your sleeping form, and Brienne stirs in her sleep.

She stretches her arms over her head, letting out a soft groan at the ache that spreads through every muscle in her body. Mornings have been hard for her since she’s gotten back - she often feels as though gravity is conspiring against her, chaining her to the bed with a heaviness that takes over every limb, every muscle, every organ in her body.

As she turns onto her side, fighting the pull to just remain in bed all day and try to sleep away the pain, her gaze lands on a lumpy blanket beside the bed - a lumpy blanket that’s breathing, with a head of unruly curls poking out.

Brienne’s breath stutters in her chest and she props herself up on her elbow to lean over the edge of the bed. Relief floods her body as she realizes it’s just you - though that same thought, a mere moment later, causes her pulse to race.

Before she’s had a chance to wonder what you’re doing on the floor beside her bed, your eyelids begin to flutter and you shift beneath the blanket. Your eyes open and meet Brienne’s, and for one fleeting moment, it feels like the most normal thing in the world as your lips spread into an automatic smile and Brienne’s heart skips a beat.

Your smile quickly fades, however, when you wake up enough to see the perplexed frown etched onto Brienne’s face, and you quickly scramble to your feet, stuttering out an apology.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor?” Brienne says, pulling her own furs up to her chin, as if doing so will hide the vulnerability that’s crashing over her in waves.

Your brow furrows. Brienne’s stomach sinks - she hates feeling as though she’s being kept in the dark. “What?” she huffs out impatiently, anxiety lapping at her ribcage from the inside.

“You, um…” You hesitate, your voice still gravelly from sleep. You clear your throat. “I found you in the corridor last night, sleepwalking… I didn’t want you to get hurt so I stayed.”

It’s clear from the way you can hardly meet Brienne’s eyes, instead shifting your gaze to your feet as you subtly shuffle them, that you’re nervous. About what? Brienne wonders. Being reprimanded? She uses your lowered gaze to her advantage, her own gaze raking over your form from head to toe and back again, drinking you in. She feels a pang of regret. The two of you used to be close. She used to confide in you, used to trust you. But after everything that happened, who can she trust? Certainly not herself.

Still, she feels as though she owes you something.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You look up and her heart clenches as a tentative smile spreads across your face. She offers you one in return - it feels a bit foreign, to smile again after so long. As if she’s forgotten how.

You reach down, folding the blanket and placing it at the foot of Brienne’s bed. “I’ll see you at training?” You look as if you’re about to say more - Brienne wishes you would say more - but you don’t.

Brienne swallows thickly, nods. “Yeah. See you.”

It’s not until you leave the room that she feels her fists unclench against her furs.

~~~

Brienne sleepwalks again the following night, and again you guide her back to bed and make a nest for yourself on the floor beside her. This time, you manage to sneak back into your chambers just before dawn, though you leave the blanket on the floor, so that she knows you were there, so that you don’t feel like you’re sneaking around.

The night after, Brienne wakes as you try to sneak back to your own bed (your back is stiff as a board). Her voice calls after you in the darkness as you’re halfway to the door, giving you a start.

“Just get in the bed, for God's sake…”

You can hear the sleepy exasperation in her voice and you quickly insist that you should go back to your own bed, that it would be improper - the moonlight casts an eerie glow on Brienne’s eyes when she rolls them. She scoots towards one edge of the bed and awkwardly pats the space next to her.

Neither of you sleep a wink for the rest of that night. You’re too distracted by the heat of Brienne’s body, too afraid that, if you fall asleep, you might wake up spooning her. She’s too focused on your breathing, acutely aware that you’re lying awake beside her, wishing she could take comfort in your presence but too afraid to do so. Your combined warmth beneath the furs is like a furnace, but you don’t dare move, for fear of spooking Brienne and being sent away.

As dawn breaks, you climb out of one side of the bed and Brienne swings her legs over the opposite side. You say “see you” and Brienne grunts in response, and the whole experience is so awkward and tense that you almost don’t go to her chambers the following night. Habit, however, guides your feet right to her door, and she opens it as she hears your footsteps approaching, as if she were waiting for you. This alone, the lack of rejection, makes you braver - that night, you dare to lie just a little bit closer, your arm touching hers.

Every evening you get a bit more daring, and every morning is a little less awkward than the last. Brienne’s walls are far from torn down, but every so often she shows a sliver of genuine warmth that makes your heart skip at least three beats: a shadow of a smile flitting across her face when you show up at her door in the evening; a lingering glance after the two of you have said goodnight, filled not with annoyance or trepidation but with curiosity, perhaps even a hint of gratitude; a gentle brush of soft fingertips against your arm as she adjusts the furs so that you’re both covered.

The night that she wakes with a start and tells you everything would be seared into your mind for the rest of your life as the turning point in your relationship with Brienne. It isn’t about the things she confesses to you - though horrified at the anguish that plagues Brienne, you can’t find it in you to judge or condemn her. Not when she’d woken you in tears, her hand tentatively curling around the sleeve of your night shirt, her lower lip trembling as she’d whispered that she had to tell you what had happened, and then, later, pleaded with you to stay. Nothing she told you, nothing she would tell you, could make you leave. Quite the opposite, in fact - the worse her confessions seem to get, the closer your bodies get, until she’s curled into you with her face against your chest and your arms wound tightly around her, your lips pressed to the crown of her head - anything to provide some semblance of the comfort that she’s sorely been missing.

Once the dam has broken, once Brienne has laid bare all of her sins - and is met not with condemnation but with unwavering support - she starts to let you in, little by little. Little by little, she starts to trust you again and, little by little, she lets you care for her.

~~~

Brienne is standing in front of the fireplace when you enter her chambers. You can’t see her face but you don’t need to - you know that her eyes are fixated on the flames, flecks of warm orange licking at bright sapphire irises. Lost in thought, in some place deep within her where you cannot join.

You close the door with a bit of force, so that Brienne hears it, knows you’re there. You approach her from behind with audible footsteps, then wrap your arms around her waist. You turn your head to rest your cheek between her shoulder blades. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. She smells like soap and burning wood and something else, something ineffable, something distinctly Brienne.

She stays where she is but folds her arms over your own, leans back ever so slightly. You don’t know how long the two of you stand there, but eventually Brienne starts to turn and you loosen your grip to allow her to face you. She looks down at you, her eyes dancing between your own. You think she might kiss you, like she sometimes does nowadays. You’re certain that there’s a hopeful glint in your eyes as your gaze flicks briefly to her lips, then back up to her eyes, though you try not to show it, try to let Brienne set the pace.

Instead of kissing you, she takes a step back, and you let your arms fall to your sides, feeling a bit cold after the sudden loss of her body heat. Brienne’s eyes never leave your own as she starts to untie her shirt at the front with long and nimble fingers. In your peripheral vision, you see her fingers work their way down her shirt, which then slides off her shoulders and falls to the floor. You cannot break eye contact, however - there’s something in her gaze that you’ve never seen before, not directed at yourself anyway, and it has you pinned in place, frozen in space and time.

Brienne’s tongue darts out to moisten her lips and she steps closer again, and the movement breaks you from whatever spell you’re under. Your gaze drops to her bare breasts, the small mounds of flesh pale and supple, nipples soft and pink, not quite fully hard yet. A wave of arousal washes over you as you allow your eyes to trace her body - every soft, womanly curve, every hard, toned muscle. Brienne, the woman. Brienne, the warrior. You feel her eyes on your face - you know she’s watching you drink her in, and it makes your breath quicken.

Reaching up to your own shirt, you start to untie it - until Brienne’s fingers brush against your own, gently pushing them aside and taking over for you. She takes her time, and her fingertips caress your skin, and you shiver as your shirt joins hers on the floor.

She steps closer still, until there’s no more room between the two of you. Her breasts press against your own and her skin warms yours, and then her hand slides into your hair, cupping your neck just beneath your ear and pulling you towards her until her lips meet your own. They’re impossibly soft and a little wet, and you’ve kissed Brienne before but it feels different this time, and it makes you moan - not a soft, sweet moan of pleasure but a deep, guttural moan of desire, and then Brienne pushes her tongue into your mouth and her free hand flattens against the small of your back, keeping you flush against her as she walks you backwards in the direction of her bed.

“I want you,” you whisper against her lips as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and Brienne pushes against you, until you’re on your back and she’s on top of you. She resumes the kiss, her breath coming out in little pants against your lips as she straddles your waist and you scoot back into a more comfortable position.

Large, callused hands slide down your torso, leaving a blazing fire in their wake. They reach the waistband of your trousers and you raise your hips, silently inviting Brienne to pull them down - she does, along with your underwear, and discards both.

Her lips trail along your jaw and you tilt your head back and to the side, giving her more access to nuzzle and kiss and suck and nip. The little noises that escape her lips and vibrate against your skin are heavenly, stoking the fire in your belly and ringing in your ears like the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard.

Her teeth, hard and dull-edged, sink into the junction between your shoulder and your neck - a stark contrast to the feeling of her tongue, warm and velvety, running up the side of your neck just a moment later - pausing at your pulse point, feeling the pounding of your heart, the rushing of warm blood through your body. Your pulse quickens even more as she lingers there, and then you feel a wetness.

You feel no pain but, still, you wonder if it’s blood, if she’s somehow broken skin.

Then you realize that the droplets dripping onto your neck are Brienne’s tears.

You pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are dark and stormy as she wrestles with something that you aren’t privy to. Her shoulders start to shake beneath your palms, her entire body trembling as she begins to sob in earnest, sitting up and dropping her head into her hands, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes as she lets out a low, shaky wail.

“Brienne?” you whisper cautiously, sliding your hands from her shoulders up to her neck, prying her hands off of her face and cupping her cheeks, urging her to look at you. Your thumbs soothe across her cheekbones, wiping away each tear as it falls - her eyes dance between your own, uncertainty and pain reflected back at you in equal measure. But there’s something else there, a deep longing, a hunger, and you aren’t sure what for and you aren’t sure if you want to know.

“I love you,” you say, your voice quiet yet firm. You say it partially because you don’t know what else to say, but also because you know it’s true. You do love her, more than you’ve ever loved anyone else, more than you ever thought you could love another person, more than life itself, perhaps.

“Don’t say that,” Brienne chokes out, her brow scrunching as she sniffles and tries to suppress another sob, making her chest heave.

“I love you.”

“P-please…”

“You’re not a bad person, Brienne, in spite of what you may think.”

“I am,” she spits back, her tone harsh in contrast to the softness in her eyes as she wants desperately to believe that you could be telling the truth. That you could love her, and think she’s a good person, worthy of being cared for. “I loved him. I loved him and I-” She chokes on her own words, unable to verbalize what she did - but she doesn’t need to, you know already, and Brienne doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You don’t either.

Brienne sobs. Her forehead wrinkles and her mouth turns down at the corners and she sobs. She buries her head in your chest, squeezes her eyes shut. Her tears wet your bare skin, her hand curls around your waist hard enough to bruise, gripping as if she’s holding on for dear life. As if you’ll evaporate if she lets go.

You coo at her. Run a hand through wavy blonde locks. Let your fingertips trace her spine. You tell her how good she is, that she’s safe, that you care for her. You tell her that you love her, over and over again, as many times as it takes to make her believe it. You tell her that Jaime loved her, too. That he would have understood, and forgiven her. That he would want her to be happy. She sobs harder, shakes her head, and you cup her cheek and stroke your thumb across her cheekbone. He would want the world for her, you tell her, and you believe it. You believe it because it’s what you want, and if Jaime loved her half as much as you do, then, surely, he would want that, too.

Finally, her tears subside. She hiccups, and it makes you smile in spite of it all. You kiss the tears off her cheeks, lick gently at her salty skin. Then you capture her lips in a sweet, wet kiss. She kisses you back. You keep it slow, gentle - you part your lips, an invitation for Brienne to set the pace. She licks into your mouth, entangling her tongue with your own, whimpering softly.

“You t-taste so good,” she mumbles, and then she freezes. The double entendre doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you ignore it - you moan and deepen the kiss, because it feels good, and because Brienne tastes good, too.

Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you close, and your hands slide down her back. They slip beneath her trousers and cup her ass, and she rolls her hips against you with a breathy sigh.

You push her trousers down, then her undergarments, and she helps you remove them completely. You push her onto her back, hovering over her - you give her a sweet kiss, then trail your lips slowly and reverently down her body. Your hands caress her sides, curling around her waist as your thumbs trace over her ribs and your tongue runs down the center of her abdomen.

Brienne’s hips push upwards as her head tilts back, and you look up through your lashes to see the underside of her jaw clenched; her breasts rising and falling; her nipples hard, rosy peaks that jut out into the air. You moan as you settle between her legs and kiss the crease of her hip, the scent of her arousal strong and heavy, making you feel dizzy.

You trace a path up her slit, using the tip of your tongue to part her sticky folds. Her arousal gathers on your tongue, exploding on your tastebuds like sweet ambrosia - you savor it, swallow it down with a hum. You get greedy as you retrace the path of your tongue, eager for more, humming gutturally, and then you feel Brienne’s fingers thread into your hair, her legs parting even further as she pushes you towards her clit.

Latching onto the throbbing bud, you suck feverishly, relishing in the wanton moan that erupts from deep within Brienne’s chest. Her fingers tighten in your hair, knuckles going white as her back arches off the bed and her abdomen ripples. You can feel the heels of her feet press into your back as her legs bend at the knees, her entire body responding to your hungry ministrations.

Brienne quivers. Releases the tension in her body like an arrow gone into flight. Her arousal coats your chin, sticks to the furs beneath her ass. She tugs at your hair, insistently, even as you lap at her folds, cleaning her up. You relent and allow her to pull you up, allow her lips to meet yours, and she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue and licks her own arousal off your face, desperately, as if she’s trying to devour you.

Her hand remains threaded in your hair as her other hand slides down your abdomen. Short, labored breaths leave her lips and hit yours in little puffs as long fingers feel how wet you are, smear your juices across your clit, dip into your center, stroke your walls.

Her eyes are open and she maintains eye contact with you as she fingers you. Her gaze is soft and loving beneath the lust, drinking in your every reaction and holding your heart, soul, body captive. She can tell you’re getting close and she pulls her fingers from your cunt, pushing you onto your back and sinking between your legs to finish you off with her mouth. Her lips latch onto your clit and she sucks hungrily, her eyes still on yours, her pale eyelashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she brings you over the edge.

When you cum, she kisses your inner thigh, mumbles “I love you” as if it were a confession. Then she says it again. And again. Repeats it as if it were a mantra. It rings in your ears, as if all you’ll hear for the rest of your life is the echo of Brienne of Tarth telling you she loves you. You.

~~~

The embers of the fire are slowly dying. Brienne is on her back and you’re curled up against her side, an arm slung around her waist. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness and are tracing her side profile, your heart swelling at the sight. It feels different after what you’ve just done. You feel light - euphoric.

“Do you like it when we lay like this?” you ask her softly, suddenly. Your voice is gravelly with a pleasant exhaustion and your eyelids are starting to feel a bit heavy, but you feel you cannot rest if you don’t ask.

Brienne pauses for a moment, as if she’s mulling over your question in her head. Her lips curl into a small smile - the special one, the one reserved for you, the one you feared you might never see again. She turns her head and meets your gaze in the semi-darkness. “Yes,” she says decisively.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, but Brienne sleeps through the night.

---

A/N: I know this is truly a very ~niche~ fic, but if you made it to the end, thank you! This fic popped into my head late last year when I was obsessed with Yellowjackets and kind of imagined a Yellowjackets-type scenario with Brienne - the smut was actually the first thing I wrote, and then I wrote the rest around that. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

#brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #dead dove: do not eat

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yourlocallunatic · 4 months ago

Text

My Lady.

podrick payne x Lannister f!reader

18+

summary: Bastard daughter of Jamie Lannister you’ve stayed in the Red Keep as a ladies maid without your family's knowledge, after Jeoffrey dies it’s no longer safe for you so your father sends you with his new ally.

warnings: smutttt! piv sex, oral, m & f receiving. lovey dovey shit. lannister trauma. probably some typos….sue me.

WC: 7.4k

The commotion during the week after your cousin's death was something you hadn’t seen since the former King Baratheon died and the ‘usurper’ Ned Stark was beheaded. They were questioning you, you knew they would—you had been working for Sansa Stark ever since she arrived in King’s Landing, of course, her ladies' maid would know something of her disappearance as well as her new husbands. You and Shae had been asked to testify against Tyrion in the trial, you knew you couldn't testify against your uncle without revealing your true lineage. Not many knew of it, but your uncle was one of them.

You'd been waiting in your chambers silently for days, sneaking out only to steal food from the kitchens. When your door busted open suddenly you thought the worst, Cersei had found you out, or even worse Lord Tywin, he wouldn't think for a second before killing you. A bastard in his family. How shameful.

"My daughter, come with me now," you were shocked to see your father, he didn't engage with you unless absolutely necessary. As devastating as it was that you hardly ever saw him, you knew it was for your safety. You glance down to his now golden hand, having only heard from the other maids and squires of what happened to him. "Come, quickly now, pack a sack we don't have much time." what were his plans now though? He'd only just gotten back.

"What are we doing?" you began to slowly gather a couple of dresses and slips, but Jamie was clearly in much more of a rush, tearing a long, grey cloak from your cabinet before unbuckling a golden, lion-pommeled dagger and tossing them in a bag.

"You mustn't use this unless you need to. And we aren't doing anything you are going away."

"But you told me it was safer here, where you are!" you picked up the pace, tying your bag together as your father draped your cloak and hood over you, nearly completely concealing your face, "I can't see anything! Can't you just tell me what's happening?"

"Keep your voice down please," he whispered grabbing your hand before tearing into the hallway. "I'll explain in a moment I promise." You huffed quietly—annoyed—but following him anyway. What else could you do but trust him? You had no one else to trust.

Winding through the halls you came to an abrupt stop outside the back entrance of the Keep. And there stood a woman you'd never seen before, she was beautiful in a way you'd never expect, tall, impressive, mighty, her eyes a striking blue. This had to be Brienne of Tarth, the woman you had heard brought your father back to King's Landing.

"Brienne please," you had never once heard your father plead. "This is the one favor I'll ask of you," he speaks to Brienne as you walk to the edge of the forest where there are three horses and two men waiting. "And here he is, your last gift," he says smiling as he pulls one of the men next to him. You knew his face. Podrick Payne. He was your uncle's squire. You two had often seen each other in passing once Tyrion and Sansa had gotten married, he was a quiet boy, but always spared a smile and a nod towards you. And you had noticed just how gorgeous his smile was. You pull your hood over your face a tad more, not knowing if you could really trust him yet.

"I don't need a squire. She'll slow me down enough already," Brienne scoffed and nodded her head in your direction.

"I won't slow you down ser-... my lady," Podrick quickly fixed his mistake before promising to serve Brienne well. The other man, Bronn you think his name was, a friend of Lord Tyrion's handed Podrick an axe before rushing him off to ready the horses.

"I trusted you to get me back to the Keep, and now I'm trusting you with my daughter. She's safest outside of King's Landing." your father glances at you and then back at Brienne, "she's been found out. If not yet then at tomorrow's trial. I can't have her killed." You look at him before grabbing his golden hand.

"Please don't. She said it herself, I'll slow her down! I can find a better place here, in the city so you can keep an eye on me!" You beg.

"You know I can't darling," he brings his hand to your face stroking your falling hair away from your eyes, "You know how jealous your aunt can get, and how protective your grandfather can get of our family. They'll find you here." you may not have known him well enough but he was your father, the only family you'd had for years. Tears welled in your eyes before you wrapped your arms around him. He held you tight, it was the first you'd been held in years, and you relished the moment. "I trust Brienne, and if you trust me, you'll trust her, Podrick's a good lad too! You know him, they keep you safe." you pulled away from him and sniffed, wiping your tears away.

"The horses are ready my lady," Podrick walked back towards you and Brienne.

"Very well. Get the lady on her horse and we'll be off soon."

"Yes, my lady."

"I'm not a lady, get her on the horse," she says sharply. You gave one more look to your father before walking with Podrick, leaving your father and Brienne to talk.

"Have you ever been North, my lady?" Podrick strikes up a conversation as he ties your bag to the back of the horse, securing the saddle before kneeling before you and setting his hand out to help you on the horse. You hadn't seen him his close before, freckles scattered his cheeks and his warm chocolate eyes stared into yours as he recognized who you were. His brows furrowed but he didn't ask questions. The loyalty of a squire.

"Never, I don't suppose I'll like it though. I'm not fond of the cold," you answer, smiling slightly to try and lighten the mood. Your hand rests on his broad shoulder as he lifts you to the horse. You let out a small yelp as you went, not expecting the strength he had, you quickly tried to play it off "Gods I hate horses, haven't ridden one in years, and last time I did I nearly got stepped on." He chuckles at you as he adjusts the stirrups for you.

"Well I'm sure he could teach you to ride," Bronn comes from the other side of the horse, patting Podrick on the back roughly as Podrick glared at him. Giving you the impression that he was often teased by the older man.

"Not sure I'd help, I haven't ridden in a while either," he turns back to you, giving you a shy smile as Brienne and Jamie start back towards you.

"Wasn't talking about horses," Bronn smirks and ruffles the top of Podrick's head, the younger man trying to push him away. "See, this lad's got a magic cock, all the girls in King's landing want him now, three whores turned away a load of gold 'cause he was that good."

"Shut up!" Podrick growls as he walks away to mount his horse, redness growing on his cheeks. You knew your face was growing hot too at the image. You'd heard plenty of stories from the other ladies' maids about what intimacy was like, and hardly ever did you hear of it being good, let alone good enough to turn away money. You adjust yourself on your saddle, a warmth quickly settling in your belly.

"Better make sure your daughter watches herself around that lad!" Bronn walks past your father patting him on the back. Your father's eyes now stare darkly at the squire who looked absolutely humiliated.

"I hear anything about you touching my daughter I'll have Brienne chop that 'magic cock' off in your sleep," Podrick looked utterly shocked, his daughter? But it was quickly replaced but fear. "You hear me, boy?" Your father's hand moved to hold the handle of the sword at his side.

"O-of course, Ser! I would never, I-I'm a gentleman, I've always respected your daughter." A blush begins to form at the tips of your ears, respect. You look to him to give him a reassuring smile and nod, just like the ones he'd give you every time you saw each other.

"Keep her safe, Brienne. Keep your oath." and that was the last you saw of your father for quite some time.

----------------------

Traveling with Brienne and Podrick had actually been somewhat enjoyable. Minus sleeping outside every night and enduring Brienne's constant grumpiness you were actually getting used to it. You and Podrick just grew closer and closer, each telling one another stories of your squiring and maid days.

Once, he questioned your lineage, and you gave him the truth. "My mother died when I was young, she was a Lady of the Court, Jamie didn't know I was his child until right before she passed. And well... you know the rumors about him and the Queen...she wouldn't have taken well to knowing he had a child that wasn't hers. Foul of them both honestly..."

"What happened after that?" Podrick urged on gently, looking at you from where he rode next to you on his horse, you could tell he was trying his best not to pry but was too curious.

"Well, he had me raised in the Keep. I worked since I could walk, in kitchens, wait staff, whatever you could think of. He always made sure I knew who he was, hardly ever saw him though."

"Does anyone else know?"

"My septa, I'm sure Varys knows because Tyrion found out recently and who else would he hear it from?" you laugh at the absurdity of the thought that your uncle had a whole other niece living under his roof and he of all people didn't know. He smiles at your story, not a single bit of judgment in his eyes.

You too had learned so much more about the sweet man that squired your uncle, even hearing of the time he and Bronn had forced Podrick to tell them everything that had happened in Littlefinger's brothel the night the women turned away the gold. That story had been told after one evening you three had spent quite a while in a tavern, seeking the warmth from the rain with fire, and probably too much ale. He had been so embarrassed the next morning when Brienne told him to stop bragging about how good he was in the bedroom.

"What are you talking about? I didn't brag about anything!" He'd said defensively as he readied your horses the next day, his face already going red. That was also the first time you heard Brienne laugh.

"If I recall, you said word for word," she said before deepening her voice to imitate Pod "'Oh Y/N, they just wouldn't stop asking! How many times am I supposed to say that I'm just good, it's all about receiving and giving.'" Podrick's mouth dropped open as he shook his head looking between the two of you.

"I-I, no I didn't say that!" he looked at you for a response and all you could do was shrug and give him an awkward smile that confirmed his fears. He looked down at his feet, ashamed, "Never let me drink that much ale again." and he was silent most of the day's ride.

As embarrassed as he was you were even more aroused. The man had grown on you, he was sweet, and always looked after you and Brienne before doing anything for himself. It didn't help that one evening he was without a tunic for a while as you washed it in the creek. He sparred with Brienne, he was getting stronger from his training, you could see it as you watched the muscles in his chest and abdomen ripple as the swords clanged together, or his arms tensing as he held defense against Brienne. He had caught your eye as you were looking at him, but you swiftly turned away in embarrassment, practically drooling. Then it had been you that didn't talk for most of the next day's ride.

Some weeks after that, you sat by a fire after the longest day you'd had. Sansa rejecting Brienne's protection, and her not trusting you for one second after she found out who you were. You'd been chased by some of Littlefinger's men, losing both Brienne and Podrick for some time. It was the first time you'd been in that much danger since Brienne defeated the Hound. Brienne slept a ways away, claiming she was too irritated with Pod to stand the sight of him. Your legs were tucked underneath you and you held your hands close to the fire.

"Are you cold, my lady?" his voice held a teasing tone, you'd told him many a time you weren't a lady, but he didn't stop, and you knew he called you that just to tease you. You were in no mood for it though, the girl you'd known and cared for for years now didn't trust you. Littlefinger had gotten into her head. You were angry, at her, at Baelish, at your father for leaving you, your mother for dying, at Brienne for picking on Podrick, and even at Podrick himself for running off without you and leaving you.

"Of course I'm cold, we're in the North now Podrick," You spat out at him. You know you'd regret your harsh tone later but right now, fuck it.

"Have I upset you?" he says softly, just the sound of his voice melting your heart. You close your eyes, all the anger and heartbreak you've had today began to swim in your eyes. "Y/N..." gods his voice couldn't be more perfect, it broke you. A sob left your lips and they didn't stop. "Whoa, woah, what's going on?" you didn't hear him stand up from his side of the fire and make his way to you before he put an arm around you. You fell right into him, he was too warm to resist, too gentle. He shushed you and rocked you in his arms until the crying stopped.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Podrick," your voice nasally from crying "I shouldn't be mad but I am. I cared for Sansa, she became a sister to me and now she doesn't trust me. I cared for my father and he sent me off, I cared for my mother and she died before I could even speak, I care for you and you left me, I know it wasn't on purpose but I was so afraid without you. I'm sorry, I don't want to be mad but I can't help it!" you choked out another sob before he looked at you and wrapped his arms around you again.

"No, no, don't say sorry, it's alright, it was a hard day, you can be mad. I-I hate that I left you...I promise I d-didn't mean to but the horse..." he trailed off pulling back to look you in the eyes. Gods you loved those damned eyes, his brows were pulled together as you stared each other in the eye, not a look of pity, just sympathy. You lean forward to rest your head against his chest, so worn from the long day. He smelt of fire smoke and evergreens. It felt so right you didn't even realize this was the closest you two had been to one another. His strong arms held you close and he rested his chin atop your head. You wondered if this felt just as right to him as it did to you.

"Pod?" you break the peaceful silence and he hums an answer in response not wanting to let go of you, "Do you care for me too?" these words made him let go, looking at you with a mixture of confusion and nerves.

"W-what?"

"I-um, said before that I cared for you, do you care for me too?" his mouth closed and opened like a fish out of the water as he searched for words, always so unsure of himself.

"Of-of course I do! I'm here to protect you." those weren't the words you'd wanted him to say.

"No, Podrick, do you care for me?"

What little remaining confidence he had left his body, he closed his eyes tightly gathering whatever courage might be inside of him before opening them and looking you in the eye, moving quietly to grab the side of your face, still wet with tears. "Yes. Very much." the tension left your body and a smile grew on your face. Your hands moved to grab behind his neck and pull his forehead to yours.

"Please, kiss me Pod, I want to know how you feel."

And he didn't even hesitate to smash his lips to yours and practically swallowing you whole. This Podrick was different, he was moved by passion and love and lust. He wasn't the clumsy boy right now, this was the broad-shouldered man you saw sparring (of course they were both just as good, they were both your Podrick). He took hold of your body and didn't let go, one of his hands was entangled in your hair holding the back of your head to pull you closer, and the other gripped your hips tightly, he was feral. You held the sides of his face and gently pushed him away so you could come up for air. You made eye contact and began to giggle at him, he let out a huff of a laugh before resting his forehead on yours.

"Sorry," he mumbled becoming the shy Pod again, "I've been wanting to do that for so long now."

"Me too."

----------------------

More weeks had passed and more things had changed. You and Podrick would sneak hidden hugs in the mornings and quiet kisses in the night when the dark had fallen. As much as you'd both like to believe you were keeping a good secret, Brienne could feel the change, she could see it in the glances and little smiles you gave each other. You'd continued to follow Sansa so Brienne could fulfill her oath. But when you came upon the aftermath of the battle between the Boltons and Stannis things went downhill. Everything was all over the place, and when you finally found Sansa she and the Greyjoy boy were being attacked by men from Ramsey's army. As Brienne and Pod went to take down the men you rushed to Sansa, you jumped off your horse and pulled her up from the ground. You watched from afar, the dagger your father gave you at your side. Your heart raced in your chest as you followed Podrick with your eyes, watching from every angle to ensure he was safe. He ended up on his back—swordless—with a man about to kill him, your body betrayed you, and standing from your safety you rushed right to him, "Podrick!" you screamed as you ran, hoping to reach him before the man struck. Your breath was stuck in your lungs but released when Theon struck the man from behind. The two men nodded at each other, Podrick's a sign of thanks.

"Oh gods," you rush to him the rest of the way and throw yourself on top of him, "I almost lost you!" you cried into his cloak.

"You won't lose me, my lady," he shoved you off of him and stood to help you up, "not now." he pressed a kiss to your forehead, not giving a flying fuck Brienne was watching. You made eye contact with her, looking away shyly and burying your face in Podrick's chest. You didn't see the small smile that graced her lips.

A few more days passed and you came to Castle Black, Sansa had apologized for not trusting you, and you gave your own apology for not telling her the whole truth. She was stubborn, it would be a slow rebuild of trust, but you could already see the young girl you first knew peeking through. Just before you reached the castle you and Sansa rode on one horse behind the two others. Podrick had looked back at you and you gave each other a shy smile. As confident as he could be sometimes, usually his nervousness won out, but so did yours.

"You love him don't you?" Sansa's voice rang behind you quietly.

"I really do," your voice sounded dreamy, something it never did. Perhaps something good might come out of this.

Jon and Sansa had reunited and things were calm for a moment. You were able to bathe, eat, and sleep in a bed covered with furs. The North was cold, you hated it just as much as you thought.

"My lady," Podrick came to sit next to you in the hall where you tried to keep warm by the fire. You immediately pull him closer trying to gather any warmth you could, "Why aren't you in bed?" he asks as he takes off his cloak to drape it around you.

"My room is freezing! I can't sleep in there! Thought in here I could at least sit by the fire."

"I don't like the thought of you here alone, the men of the Night's Watch, lots of them are dangerous...why haven't you just lit the fire in your room? That should warm you." he rubbed slow circles on your back, but your quick turn to look at him startled him back an inch.

"There is no fire in my room, don't you think I'd have lit it by now?!" the cold made you intensely irritable but you still snuggled closer to him. "Wait... Pod? You have a fire in your room?"

"Uhm...yes? You don't?"

"NO! I just said so! Ohh that is so unfair! I bet it's because I'm a woman, the fuckers."

"Hey it's alright," He says trying to calm you, "You can um, you can stay in my room if you'd like." He looks you in the eye and your gaze softens.

"Really?"

"'Course, the fire's already going, should be nice n' warm already."

"Take me there m'lord oh the chill has seeped into my bones! I need a big strong man to help me!" you faint into him dramatically. He laughs at your bad attempt at acting and helps you to your feet.

"Let's go then, my lady."

He was right the room was already warm and cozy, filled with his scent from the worn leather tunic resting over the chair. You immediately took off both of the cloaks that now rested on you and kicked off your boots, flopping into the bed and under the furs, kicking your feet as you inhaled his scent. From the door he smiled gently at you, seven hells he was head over heels.

"Goodnight then, my lady," He moved to open the door, his cheeks red as he watched you cuddling into the bed.

"Podrick? You're not staying?" the thought of him leaving had you on your feet and straight to him before he can set his hand on the knob. You pull his arm away and bring it to you.

"I don't think we should..." He looks away from you clearly very nervous about something.

"Do you not want to? I can just go back to my room, I just thought... maybe you'd want to be together, while we have the chance," you look up at him through your lashes, confused at why he'd want to leave.

"No, no, I-Just. I really don't think I could...is all," your brows pull together trying to understand, he sees the confusion and continues to explain as he moves to hold your face in his hands, "You. Lying next to me. In bed? I-I don't think I could control myself if I wanted to."

Realization flooded your expression and then you began to think. You. Him. All those stories he'd so stupidly bragged about, the thoughts of his naked chest consumed you. You'd wondered what he looked like below that too. You hadn't been with a man, not like that. A few kisses here and there but this? Something different entirely. And you wanted it. You wanted him to make you feel good, just as he'd said. So you plucked up the courage.

"Then don't," you stepped closer to him taking his hands and moving them from your face to your waist, "please Podrick? I trust you."

Every ounce of his self-control was now gone in the wind as you all but pleaded for him. "Fuck." he cursed pulling you into him and pressing his lips to yours. The Podrick you saw the night by the fire was here again, and he was hungry. You didn't hear him curse often but this, his raspy, needy voice felt like fire in your veins. You didn't think it was possible for him to hold you any closer as his face buried into your neck and his lips trailed down, nipping and licking and sucking. You'd never felt anything so heavenly.

"Pod, I... I want to see you," you pant out, beginning to pull at the strings of the thin under-tunic he was left in after he'd given you his cloak in the hall. He helped, finally pulling the top over his head and leaving his chest bare. You immediately began to trail your hands down him, feeling every single inch as you had so often dreamed of doing. "So perfect," you whisper, beginning to place feather-light kisses across the span of his chest.

"Y/N, you um, you need to tell me if you really want this, I don't want to take something from you if you value it," he spoke quietly and shyly as you continued running your hand all over him, feeling the strength of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, the smoothness of his chest. How could you not want this?

"I want this, it is important to me, and I want you to have it," you look him in the eye, speaking your truth, "Show me, Podrick, I want it." You take your hands away from him and begin to undo the ties of your dress, wanting him to see you for all you are. He watches you intensely. Short, quick breaths leave him as he feels himself growing harder and harder within the confines of his breeches. You were magnificent, your dress slowly fell down your body and pooled on the ground by your feet. Podrick couldn't help but stare and stare and stare. The longer he did the more nervous you grew, slowly moving your hands to cover yourself.

"No," his voice was low, full of desire, "don't cover yourself, you're fucking breathtaking," he gasped out. He sounded confident, and dominant, but not in a demeaning way, in a way that made you feel loved and cared for. He reached out, grabbing your breasts in his hands and plucking softly at your hardening peaks. A soft gasp left you and he covered your mouth with his, slipping his tongue inside as he continued caressing you. His hands went lower and lower, reaching around to your backside and giving it a quick squeeze making you moan into his mouth. "You trust me, yes?" he asks, and you nod continuing to kiss him, moving to his neck like he had done to you. Shit. He tasted so good. "I want to hear you say it," he speaks, pulling your head away with the hand he now held on your cheek.

"I trust you. I love you. Do whatever you want to me," the desperation was evident in your voice and your actions as you couldn't take your hands off of him.

"Go lay down," he kissed your forehead softly before pushing you gently towards the bed. The back of your legs hit the bed and you fell back, leaving your legs hanging down. A stroke of confidence befell you and you opened your legs slightly, showing him your pussy on full display. He walked towards you excruciatingly slow and when he finally reached you he touched you so very lightly. He traced his fingers across your hip-bones, across the tops of your thighs and right down in-between, so close to where you needed him. "You've uh, have you touched yourself before?" a tremor of anxiety running through him. You meet his gaze as his hands grow closer to your center, you nod at him shyly, should you be ashamed? He quickly answers your question. "Yeah? Good." Then it happens, his rough, calloused fingers finally meet where you most need him. He's so slow it almost kills you, dragging his fingers up and down gathering your arousal on his fingertips before bringing them to your throbbing bud. He elicits the most desperate sound out of your throat. "Is that where you touch? Is that where it feels good?"

"Yes, yesyes. It feels so good," you didn't recognize your own voice so desperate and wanton. Your head falls back against the furs on the bed as he continues his work, then OH gods. You feel his soft, wet tongue touch your center. Your head whips up and you look him straight in the eye from where his mouth connects to you, as his eyes meet yours he lets out a groan, and his eye slip shut fully enamored with the taste of your pussy. You hadn't ever felt anything so perfect, but maybe he'd change your mind later. His fingers massage the insides of your thighs as he laps and sucks at you. For the sake of the Night's Watch, you try your hardest to contain your noises but when a finger slips up and starts circling around your entrance you lose it, slapping a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans. His finger slips in slowly—too slowly—and you buck your hips forward aching for more.

"Be patient, I want to make sure you're comfortable," Podrick mumbles against your pussy, you can barely hear him but listen anyway as he works you open. A second finger joins soon and he sucks and licks your clit while his fingers move in and out of you, steadily building up a pace.

"Oh Pod, please don't stop, it feels so, so, good," your hand moves down slowly working its way into his hair and holding firmly as he does as you say, not stopping for a second. You can see his torso rhythmically jutting forward, trying to grind himself against something—anything. That brings you so close to the edge thinking of him, just as desperate as you are. A couple more laps of his tongue against your clit and a single groan into your pussy and you're falling over the edge. You pant and squirm as his motions don't let up. "Podrick, Pod, I can't 's too much," He finally pulls away from you, taking his slick-covered fingers and sticking them in his mouth, sucking away your juices. A down-right sultry moan leaves your lips at the sight and you slap your hand to your mouth before falling back against the bed again.

"Was that alright?" he asks, his hair is tousled and he slowly kisses up your body stopping to lick across your nipples, tugging one with his teeth slightly.

"Alright? You're a god Podrick," you pull his face to yours kissing him deeply. "Does it feel that good for you too? Can I make you feel like that?" He chuckles at your eagerness and kisses you again.

"I imagine it would with your mouth, but I want you to feel good tonight," now laying beside you, you see the evident tent in his breeches. You reach your hand down and grip him through his pants, moving up and down against the hard length experimentally.

"Please, Pod? It's only fair," you grin at him and he nods quickly at you, the pleasure too intense for him to just ignore. You shuffle down the furs and untie his breeches, letting your fingers drag down the curls on his lower belly and groin as you do so. You remove his pants quickly, you are just as desperate to taste him as he is to feel you. You move your hand up and down his length, leaning down to suck the drops of him from his tip.

"Gods, fuck, Y/N."

"Tell me what to do," you look up at him, he was so needy and desperate to feel you around his cock, but he'd let you have your fun first.

"Spit on it," and you do just as he says, you let the spit dribble down your chin and fall right on his cock, "now keep going up and down." following his directions you stroke him at a steady pace. "You can use your mouth too," more of a suggestion than direction but you dive right in taking his length in your mouth, doing just what felt right taking him deeper and deeper, and rubbing what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Woah. Now that you had your mouth and hand around him you realized just how large he was, would he fit? Thoughts coursed through your head as you continued your ministrations. So caught up you didn't hear his voice till he pulled your head off of him with the hand that was weaved through your hair. "Stop, stop," you heard the gasps and immediately grew worried.

"Was it not good?"

"It was too good," he huffed, out of breath, "I want to fuck you before I finish." his words brought you to reality a small fear settling deep in your gut. Your expression must've betrayed you because his hand moved to cradle your face. "We-we don't have to, whatever you want to do, I won't make you, my lady," he pecks your cheek and looks you in the eye waiting for a response.

"I-just...do you think you're going to fit?" genuine worry laced in your voice. He tried his best not to giggle at you, this version of you was so different from your normal snarky self.

"I got you nice and ready for me, if it hurts too much you say the word and I'll stop, I promise," how could one man be so utterly perfect? He shuffled out from underneath you and in one swoop you were now beneath him. His shining eyes stare down at you in adoration. His hand moves down to mess with your pussy again, moving your slick all around to make sure you were nice and wet for him, all the while keeping eye contact and watching your face contort in pleasure. “you want me to fuck you?” his voice was laced with lust but also a genuine concern for you. You nod vigorously, not being able to wait another second. His hand drifted away from your cunt causing a whine to leave your mouth. Taking his cock in his hand he pumps it a few times before taking the head and rubbing it all through your slick.

“Please, please,” you moan out reaching for his shoulders to pull him into you, your nails desperately scraping down his back.

“Please what?” his voice was teasing and you could tell this was his way of taking back every time he had been teased, flipping it around to make you a frustrated, whiny mess under him.

“Ugh, please Podrick, I want you to fuck me! I want to feel you inside of me, please,” you’d never been so desperate for anything in your life.

“‘Course love, whatever you want, I’m gonna go slow, ‘right?” you silently thank him for his consideration, he knew you were nervous, but you knew he would take care of you, just as he always did. The stretch was magnificent. He slid into you, taking his time and watching your reactions. A small wince at the dull pain that made you feel so achingly full, and an open-mouthed look of pure pleasure as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. “this good?” he asked, you could tell he was trying his hardest to hold himself back for your sake.

“‘S good Pod, please keep going,” your hands were still in his back practically digging your claws into him. Then he pulled out and pushed back inside in one motion, a loud moan left your lips as he groaned out a curse. You were squeezing him so nicely. His pace slowly formed as he kept moving in and out, his forehead falling against yours and your hot breaths mingling together as you panted and moaned. He rutted into you as he held you close, closer than anything you’d felt, you were one.

“That’s it, love,” this new name had you keening your head back. “knew you could take it, take me.” his words were barely coherent and he kept thrusting into you. You felt so full, so good, it was everything you could've hoped for.

"Love you, love you so much," your words made him groan out a "fuck" and he picked up his pace, fucking into you like a madman.

"Love you so much, you're—oh gods, fuck—doing so, so well," you could feel the sweat dripping down his back from where you held and you knew he was holding himself back as best as he could. Podrick was a sweet man, probably the kindest you'd ever met, but what you felt now wasn't kindness, it was desperation, fierce desperation to fuck you and fuck you good and hard. You knew men got like this, so eager for sex, you'd heard the stories about how violent they could get, but you'd never thought about Podrick having the same needs. He wouldn't escalate to violence, not ever, but you could feel the hunger in his thrusts as he gripped your hips tightly. The warmth from before started growing in your belly again, winding up and ready to break; and it got even more intense when he moved a hand from your hip back closer to your center, putting his calloused thumb right on your aching bud and rubbing it in circles. Your needy whines grew more desperate and your nails dug harder into his back—undoubtedly leaving marks. "Feel good?" he asked yet again, constantly making sure everywhere he touched you brought intense pleasure. You nod against his shoulder and move your legs to wrap around him. "There you go, m' getting close love," he grunted out, his thrusts growing sloppier. You cry out as the intense feeling washes over you again and he continues rubbing your clit to work you through it. As soon as it's finished he pulls out of you quickly, spilling himself all over your stomach and tugging on his cock as his spend continues to leak out of him before grunting once more and flopping next to you. Both of you pant hard, trying to recover from the intense feelings. His seed pooled on your stomach stickily and you reached a hand to run your fingers through it before moving them to your mouth and sucking his flavor off of them. You wouldn't lie and say it tasted good, but it was his essence and that alone aroused you again. He looked over at you and smiled cheekily before kissing your forehead.

"Could you, uhm..." you say nodding downwards to where his seed lay cooling on you.

"Oh-oh, 'course, sorry," He jumped up from the bed, the shy Pod returning with a rag and cleaning you off. His face was red, all of a sudden nervous as he realized what you two had just done. "That was good, right? I didn't hurt you or anything?" he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he used the other to stroke up and down your thigh, comforting you.

"It was amazing," you smile at him, trying to be reassuring before a smirk grows on your face. "Glad I was able to feel that 'magic cock' after all," you poked his ribs.

"Gods, I wish Bronn had never said anything, I wish I had never said anything!" he whined, moving off the bed to put his breeches back on, turning his face away from you.

"Come on Pod! I'm just teasing, you know I love it," you sit up and cover yourself with the furs, your body growing cold again as your sweat dries. "Come lay with me please," you beg, "just be with me." He turns his head back to you his brows curving down in adoration, your braids became messy and your lips were flushed pink from all the kissing. You'd never have any idea of how much he truly did love you. He walked back to the bed and rolled under the furs, pulling you into him and holding you tight.

"Sleep. You should be warm enough now, my lady," you giggled as you nuzzled your head into his neck and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When you woke the next morning Podrick was gone. Your heart dropped as you thought of countless reasons as to why he would leave. Was he done with you now? Was he ashamed of you? You got dressed quickly and tried your best to fix the mess your hair was without undoing the braids you had from yesterday. You opened the door slowly, looking both ways making sure no one would see you leaving Pod's chambers. You made your way to the hall for breakfast, still seeing no sign of Podrick. You sat beside Sansa with your bowl of oats and pushed it around with your spoon.

"You, uh—you haven't seen Podrick have you?" you asked her quietly, still worried he had just up and left.

"Don't worry, I saw him walking with Brienne to go train," she gave you a cheeky smile. "he had quite the smile on his face too." you blush at the thought of seeing him so happy because of you. You hurry to finish your breakfast so you can make your way out to see him.

You stood on the upper level, looking down on the yard where Podrick was sparring against a new member of the Night's Watch, Brienne watched from afar, occasionally shouting directions out to Podrick. Even though his skills were improving he still had a long way to go to match Brienne's level, that being said you had never seen him win a match against her. But sparring against this boy, someone more his size and skill level, he was doing amazing. He'd knocked the sword out of the boy's hand and walked closer to him, pointing his sword directly at his chest and smirking at him. Wow. You really must've given him the stroke of confidence that he needed. A steady smile sat on your face and you looked around only to see Brienne already staring at you. Her gaze was hard and your smile fell, she moved her head in one short movement to signal you to come down to the lower level. You walked towards her gradually, slightly worried about what she might want to speak to you about. As you reach her side, Podrick begins another round against the boy, catching your eye and giving a sweet smile (for luck he would tell himself, but really it just distracted him).

"Podrick seems happy this morning," Brienne states, eyeing you sideways.

"Suppose he does yes," you feign innocently.

"You weren't in your room this morning," your face falls and a blush grows rapidly on your face.

"I-I was in the kitchens.."

"Oh don't play coy, I know very well what happened," she looks you in the eye, very clearly feeding off your nervousness. "Just be careful, and don't let your father know or he'd have me chop off his 'magic cock' just like he said before we left. And as much as I'd like to do just that sometimes..." she trails off and looks back to Pod fighting before smiling softly at you, "he really makes you happy?"

"Yes, he really does," you turn to watch the man you love continue his fight before disarming the other lad again and putting the sword to his throat. Seven hells, he grew more and more handsome by the day. You could see his stubble shining in the winter sun as he looked to smile proudly at you and his eye glowed with joy. Yes, he made you very, very, happy.

#podrick payne x reader #podrick x reader #podrick payne #got x reader #got #asoiaf #brienne of tarth #jamie lannister #gameofthrones x reader #got smut #smut

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milfsloverblog · 1 year ago

Note

Oooh. How about a fic where the reader gives Brienne her favor at every melee and Brienne is just clueless

Tokens of Devotion

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!reader

A/N: I started writing this so many weeks ago, sorry it took so long anon! I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request, it was a lovely idea!!<3

Brienne could hardly believe it the first time she’d seen you waving a ribbon at her, calling her name in the hope of catching her attention.

“Me?” She mouthed, pointing at her breastplate.

“Yes, you!” You nodded and waved the blue ribbon more vigorously.

The woman hesitated. What if this was some sort of sick joke? What if once she’d get close to you, the whole crowd started laughing at how much of an imbecile she was for thinking a lady would ever give her, Brienne the Beauty, her favour.

“Please!” You insisted, knowing the mêlée was about to start.

After a few more seconds of hesitancy, Brienne eventually made her way to you. She kept her head up and her shoulders straight, readying herself for the inevitable mockery.

“Thank you,” you said when she was finally close enough. “For a second I thought I would have to give my favour to another knight…And I really did not want to.”

The tall woman dared to look at you then and the beauty of her features nearly made the ribbon slip from in-between your fingers. It took everything within you to tear your eyes away from her face and tie your favour to her pauldron.

“I should be the one thanking you, my lady. I will fight for your honour.” The blonde said, letting her eyes roam on your face while you looked down at your working hands.

You knew it was simply a polite way to address you, but your heart fluttered anyway. Oh, to be her lady.

Your fingers lingered on the steel of her armour for a couple of seconds too long before you eventually pulled away.

“May it bring you luck.” You gestured to the ribbon.

“It already did.” Brienne said, giving you an awkward nod before walking away back to the field, her heart beating loudly inside her rib cage. Her very first favour. She would carry it proudly, and she would make sure to be victorious.

The mêlée lasted for over an hour, men falling left and right, some being disarmed and others simply yielding to their opponent.

“Yield!” Brienne barked at the last man standing, still firmly holding her sword in front of her.

It had been the two of them for a moment now, Brienne’s muscles burning and begging the knight to let go of her sword. But she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t want to disappoint the lady in the crowd who was rooting for her.

“I yield.” The knight spat the words out after another couple of minutes, being too exhausted to keep fighting even if it meant losing to a woman.

You loudly cheered when Brienne was announced victorious, louder than anyone else in the crowd did. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach at the thought that maybe your favour had given her the strength to win. Not that you doubted she would have won anyway.

Brienne removed her gauntlets and her helmet, slicking her short blonde hair back before she made her way over to you again.

“I knew you would be victorious!” You said excitedly, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress to prevent them from reaching for the tall woman.

“Well, I had to fight for both your honour and mine, didn’t I?” Brienne pushed a shy smile and offered you her hand to shake. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Thank you, Brienne of Tarth.” You smiled and gently grabbed her hand, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss on it instead of going for a simple handshake.

Brienne was left at a loss for words, her cheeks taking a pinkish colour as you let go of her hand. No one had ever done that before, certainly not a woman.

“Well, I suppose there will be people waiting to celebrate with you at the tavern. Until we meet again!” You winked at the knight, disappearing into the crowd before she could say anything else.

Brienne stood there for another minute, dumbfounded by the whole scene that had just happened until she was practically dragged to the tavern to celebrate.

She found that drinking did not help to forget the feeling of your lips on her hand, if anything it only made it worse.

When she showed up to the next melee a month later, Brienne wasn't expecting to see you. Not that she wasn't wishing to see you again; she simply didn't think you would come back for her. Why would you?

How wrong she was, she realised when she heard the familiar voice calling her name. There you were, a smile that reached your ears as you waved something that, from afar, looked like a piece of fabric.

Four long strides were enough for Brienne to be standing right in front of you, your heart once again starting to beat uncontrollably fast when you noticed that your previous favour was still tied to her armour.

“Well, will you start collecting my favours then?” You joked, showing her the piece of fabric that you were holding.

Brienne looked away for a second, desperately trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. She had thought about removing the ribbon from her pauldron, but couldn’t find the courage to do it. Not when she was reminded of your face every time she’d look at it.

“It was only a joke. Although I would not mind seeing a collection of favours on your armour. Only mine, though, or I might get jealous.” You smiled at the blonde. “Will you accept my favour, Brienne of Tarth?”

“Of course, how could anyone decline such an offer?” She nodded and took another step closer. Looking down at your hands she noticed that the piece of fabric matched your dress, raising an eyebrow to silently question you.

“I lost my ribbon on the way here.” You admitted. “So I ripped a piece of my dress.”

“My lady, you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have!”

“Oh, but I wanted to.” You looked up into her blue eyes and pushed a soft smile.

Have you ever been told how beautiful you are, you wanted to ask, how looking into your eyes feels like swimming in Tarth’s sapphire water?

“The mêlée is about to begin, my lady.” Brienne snapped you out of your thoughts, her hand gently wrapping around yours.

“Yes, yes of course. I apologise, I was…” You shook your head and chose not to finish your sentence.

You quickly tied the piece of fabric to her pauldron, right next to your previous favour. And it felt right, seeing a piece of your dress on her armour, knowing that you two were now matching.

“Think of me.” You whispered and let go of her before taking a step back.

Brienne swallowed thickly and quickly walked back to the battlefield, her mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. She wondered for a second if you had cast a spell on her, if the ribbon and fabric tied to her armour were enchanted with a love spell.

The woman was brought back to reality by the tip of an opponent’s sword nearly poking her breastplate. She quickly parried the sword away, moving swiftly to avoid a counterattack.

You watched her fight for what seemed to be hours, cheering every time she landed a successful strike or avoided a blow. It almost looked like a perfectly rehearsed dance, the way she moved around effortlessly.

You could only imagine what she looked like under her helmet as she fought, snarling and groaning from all the effort. Your mind wandered and for a second you imagined her on top of you, groaning and sweating from another kind of effort.

It was only a silly girl crush, something that would pass in no time. At least you hoped it was. You’d heard about the rumours saying Brienne had had some sort of intimate relationship with Jaime Lannister. You knew you could never compare to the most handsome man in Westeros, if he was her type, you simply had no chance with her. It was only a silly girl crush anyway, it would pass in no time.

You were lost in your thoughts when Brienne was declared victorious, the crowd loudly cheering for her.

The knight removed her helmet and immediately turned to look at you, her eyebrows knitting together when she couldn’t find your face anywhere in the crowd.

“So, Brienne, tell us about the girl?” Tyrion asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“What girl?” Brienne huffed a little too defensively.

“The girl.” He insisted. “Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’ve been fidgeting with that piece of fabric since we’ve sat down.” He said, pointing at the favour on her pauldron.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Is it about my brother?” Tyrion smirked.

“Tyrion-“ Brienne warned him but to no avail.

“Oh come on! He chose Cersei’s cunt, you will have to get over it someday.” He shrugged.

“Shut your mouth!” Brienne barked and slammed her hand on the table, the whole tavern going quiet for a couple of seconds. “This has nothing to do with Jaime. I don’t know what you think you saw about that girl and me. Nothing is going on.”

“Oh, really? Is that why she always is the loudest cheer in the crowd? Or why she is the one you immediately looked for after your victory?” Tyrion cocked an eyebrow.

“I said I would not be having this conversation with you.” The tall woman hissed and emptied her cup before storming out of the tavern.

She almost felt like ripping the ribbon and fabric from her armour right there and then, grabbing them and being about to yank them off when she suddenly remembered how bright your smile was every time she’d acknowledged you.

She didn’t want to feel these things again, not after Jaime. She never wanted to feel these things again, and yet...

Love, what a disease.

“Brienne?” The tall woman’s back immediately straightened when she heard her name being called.

“My lady…” She turned around, her hand still firmly gripping your favours.

“Are you alright? You look…upset?” You took a step closer, gently wrapping your hand around hers. It was almost comical how small yours looked next to hers. “Would you like me to take these off for you?”

“No, no, I-“ Brienne closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” She asked looking at you.

“I’m sorry?” You frowned, confusion painting your features.

“This,” she said. “Acting like you care. Acting nice. How long will you keep the joke going? How long until you admit that you’ve been taking the piss out of me?!”

“Taking the piss out of-“ You huffed loudly. “You think I’ve been mocking you? Why on earth would I do that?! Why would I rip a piece of my most beautiful dress to give you as a favour? All for a joke?!”

“If not for a joke, then why?!” You could hear the pain in her voice, how it slightly trembled no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure.

“Because I like you.” You admitted in a whisper. “And I’m no Jaime Lannister, I’m no prettiest woman in Westeros, I’ve got nothing to offer you but those silly little favours. Those, and my devotion. I would never, ever be cruel to you.”

You barely had time to register Brienne’s hand cupping your cheek and pulling you into the softest kiss, her body trembling as if she was still fearing that this was all a joke. So you kissed her back with all you had, arms thrown around her neck to hold her close.

“It’s enough,” Brienne whispered when she pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours. “Those silly little favours and your devotion, it would be more than enough.”

“Good.” You smiled, taking her hand in yours. “How about we share a drink, mh? To celebrate your victory.”

Brienne nodded, her fingers intertwining with yours as she led you back to the tavern, holding the door open to let you in.

Tyrion grinned like the right imbecile he was when you sat down in front of him with Brienne. He introduced himself before turning to look at the woman by your side.

“Much more pretty than Jaime, if you ask me.” He smirked and pointed his chin at you.

You saw Brienne nod in agreement and looked down to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

Isn’t it crazy, you thought as you fidgeted with the ripped fabric of your dress, what those little tokens of devotion could lead to?

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #ser brienne #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #no beta we die like larissa

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agathaandbrienneslesbian · 1 year ago

Text

Snow Day

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Princess!Reader

Hello everyone and Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Blessed Yule to all of you <3 Just as promised, here is the little fluffy Brienne Fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Additionally, I now have a Taglist so make sure to fill out the form so I know who to tag where <3

Big thanks to @weemssapphic and some of my other friends for beta reading my story <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: None. Just fluff and cutie patootie Brienne <3

Authors Note: Y/N has been left alone in the castle, as her parents went to another kingdom for an assize. Alone? No. They left Ser Brienne of Tarth to look after their daughter. The best Knight in all of the seven kingdoms surely would be able to protect their child if something were to happen. Little do they know that their daughter and Brienne might enjoy their time alone a bit more than anticipated.

Words: 2'400+

Ao3 Link

Taglist

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“This is so boring”, you groaned as you slumped onto the cushions that laid in front of the big window in your chambers, looking outside and watching the snowflakes dance their way to the ground.

Your parents, the King and the Queen, have been gone for a week now, and they won’t return for another. Being alone in a big castle with nothing to do except for reading and simply… existing… wasn’t too thrilling for you. There was, however, a little light at the end of the tunnel. Your parents decided that you shouldn’t be alone whilst they were gone, and therefore left you under the watchful eyes of Brienne of Tarth.

THE Brienne of Tarth. The strongest knight in all the seven kingdoms and your secret crush. Yes, it's true. You’ve admired her for a long time, and being alone with her was the cherry on top of the cake. One week alone with her and one week still to come, and she still kept a respectful distance, no matter how many times you tried chatting her up. On some occasions, even tripped on purpose so that she would have to catch you, only for her to set you on your feet and immediately take a step back. You loved how respectful and careful she was with you, but you just wanted to be able to cuddle up to her and run your fingers through that short, blonde and so soft-looking hair. You let out a frustrated sigh and leaned your head on the windowsill.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, my Lady. Perhaps we could go into the library to read?” Brienne offered, pulling you from your thoughts. You jumped slightly and turned to look at her. Since when has she been standing at the entrance to your room? She stood there in her royal Knights tunic, a belt fastened around her waist. You couldn’t get enough of the sight, staring at her without noticing as your cheeks flushed a light pink hue.

“My Lady?” the blonde tried again, ripping you from your thoughts once more. You let out a sigh.

“I don’t know… I don’t really feel like reading” You turned your head to the window again, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with your very obvious staring. Watching the snowflakes get less and less, you suddenly had an idea, sitting up quickly, which made Brienne jump a bit at the abruptness of your movement.

“Let’s go outside!” you suggested, turning your face to look at Brienne again with a wide smile. “Just for a walk!”

“I don’t know, my Lady…” Brienne was clearly hesitant and whilst you didn’t want to push her, you still wanted to do something else than just read and lounge around. You decided to give her your best puppy eyes.

“Please? Oh, please Ser!” You flutter your eyelashes and look at her with a pleading expression. The Knight thought for a second, then sighed and nodded.

“Alright.” She said, and you sprang up in excitement. You walked to your closet, pulled out your winter coat and furs and set them on your bed. Looking up, you saw Brienne still standing there. Was she waiting for you?

“I can meet you down in the hall so you can get ready too.” You offered, and she waited for a second, thinking and then nodding.

“I will be awaiting you in the Great Hall, my Lady.” She replied before leaving your room to get ready herself. You quickly threw on your coat and wrapped the furs around your shoulders, attaching them with straps so they wouldn’t fall. You put on your thick winter shoewear, grabbed your gloves and after a last look into the mirror you left your chambers. Just as promised, Brienne was waiting for you in the great hall, clad in her furs and thick boots. She had her sword strapped to her belt again and was holding the grip, resting her hand on it. Brienne looked absolutely stunning, standing there, hand on her sword, clad in her winter coat. You swallowed dryly and felt your cheeks flush as you approached her. Smiling sweetly at her, Brienne nodded and opened the door for you.

The cold air felt nice as you stepped into the open. Brienne and you walked through the garden towards the little forested area in silence, just enjoying the fresh air. The forest was dark, snow covering every surface. No tree, nor branch, nor leaf was showing. It looked as if you were walking through a magical portal. The only sound you heard was the soft whistling of the wind and your and Brienne’s footsteps in the snow.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” You asked, turning your head to look at Brienne who wore a soft, almost invisible smile, and she hummed in agreement. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and her eyes sparkled in the cold atmosphere. She looked ethereal. Your ears grew hot with a blush and you decided to look around. You reached an open area, surrounded by trees, and that’s when you had an idea. Bending down, you grabbed some snow, rolling it into a ball and then throwing it at the unexpecting blonde. With a soft ‘thud’ the snowball broke apart against the Knight’s coat, and she looked at you with surprise. You giggled.

“Let’s have a snowball fight!” You said, already leaning down again to pick up more snow.

“My Lady, I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe we should go back now. Your cheeks are all red. I wouldn't want you getting sick!” Brienne replied, but you didn’t answer, simply throwing another snowball at her with a teasing smirk.

“Come on Ser! It’s so nice here and the snow is perfect!” leaning down, you collected some more snow, creating another snowball and throwing it at her. Brienne seemed unsure, you saw it on her face. She wanted to let go and have fun, but she held herself back.

“I know you want to! Just do it! Promise I won’t be mad if you hit me. IF you manage to hit me.” You tease, hoping that would get her playful spirit up. The smirk on your face widened when you saw Brienne resting a hand on her hip, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“IF?” she asked “I don’t want to brag, but my aim is rather precise,” she said warningly, staring you down, but there was a playful smile tugging at her lips. You got her right where you wanted her.

“I’ll only believe it if I see it. Until then, I guess you’re just bad at snowball fights!” You teased, taking a step closer, and watched Brienne break her protective wall she built up. All the talking and the time you got to spend together made Brienne want to open up to you. You didn’t know it, but Brienne fell for you, hard. The first time she saw you, she was starstruck. The way your lips curled into a sweet and welcoming smile every time you saw her, the way your eyes sparkled and how animatedly you talked to her about your favourite topics, and she absolutely adored how clumsy you are. This week was difficult for Brienne for she wanted nothing more but to confess her feelings for you. But she didn’t. She was afraid you would reject her, so she kept her distance, but you made it more difficult every single day.

“I think you’re just a coward,” you test her, playful smile on your face as you throw another snowball at her. Her gaze turned into a competitive smirk, and at that moment you almost regretted teasing her so much. You knew her strength, her poise, her grace. You knew she would have you yield within seconds in a snowball fight, but you stood your ground. Wanting her to let loose and have fun for once.

“I’ll give you 10 seconds,” she simply said as she leaned down and started collecting snow for a snowball. It took you about 3 seconds to realise what she had just said, then your eyes widened, and you started grabbing snow, running away with a wide smile, a laugh threatening to spill over your lips. The moment you thought you had enough distance from her, you turned around, only to be hit by a snowball with deadly precision. It hit your chest and the snow trickled down your coat into your garments. You shrieked and just threw a snowball blindly, trying to shake the snow out of your coat. When you looked back up, a single laugh left your lips. You had hit Brienne square in the face with the snowball. Trying not to laugh too much, you took shaking breaths.

“I am so sorry, Ser. Are you okay?” You took a step forward, then stopped dead in your tracks. Brienne wiped the snow off her face and looked at you with determination, a dangerous smile on her lips.

“I’ll get you back for that, Princess!” She said as she started charging towards you, snow in her hand. You squeaked and started running away, unable to hold your laughter back any more. You stumbled and tripped over snow, slipping and sliding the more you tried to run.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeated over and over again between gasps of air and laughs. You turned around, wanting to see how close Brienne was, when you suddenly slipped and fell over, rolling onto your back with a laugh. Brienne came to an abrupt halt, which caused her to slip, falling onto the soft snowy ground next to you. She had a huge smile plastered on her face and quickly gathered some snow to throw it on you. You squealed again, wriggling around to free yourself of the snow. Brienne started giggling quietly and watched you, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, the soft wrinkles next to your eyes from laughing and the wide smile plastered on your face. She was madly in love with you. With a swift move, you turn towards her, thinking it to be the best way to get rid of her throwing snow onto you. Rolling around, you suddenly realised that she was much closer than anticipated. You bumped into her chest, coming face to face with the strong blonde, who instinctively wrapped her arms around you. Your laughs came to a halt, just looking up at her with a smile, admiring her face. Brienne blushed darkly, she wanted to separate again, give you space, but she found herself unable to when you slowly leaned up and pecked the corner of her lips. She closed her eyes, just for a second, taking a shaky breath.

You did it. Suddenly, the realisation of what you did just hit you as you made eye contact with the Knight. Suddenly, you felt afraid. Before you could pull away and start rambling, the blonde cupped your cheek, pulling you close to plant a soft kiss on your lips, which you reciprocated gladly. She pulled away, stroking your cheek gently, looking into your eyes deeply. You smiled at her and your smile was so wide and happy, Brienne felt her heart burst. All the smiles, all the accidental touches, all the moments where you were so close to her and she pulled away. She now realised that you felt the same all along, and it filled her heart with joy and love. You pecked her lips again quickly, and then a shudder went through you, making Brienne frown.

“Are you cold?” she asked, sitting up and pulling you up with her. You nodded.

“Let's go back then. I don’t want you to get sick. Come!” She stood, pulling you up with her, and you held close onto her arm. You couldn’t believe it. She felt the same, she actually felt the same. This was no one-sided love. You were overjoyed.

The walk back to the castle was quiet. The both of you enjoying each other’s company, basking in the closeness that both of you have longed for so long. Walking into the castle, Brienne and you made your way to the library to warm up in front of the fire. Both of your coats were taken by the maids, taking them back to your chambers to clean them and put them back in the closets. The maids brought some tea for the two of you to warm up whilst you sat in front of the fireplace on the heaps of pillows and furs to warm up.

You leaned against Brienne as she had her arms wrapped around you, holding you close to her. You turned your head, looking up at her and pressing a kiss to her cheek, making her smile.

“Brienne?” you asked, nervous about her reaction to you using her first name. The tall blonde blushed. Her name sounded so beautiful coming from you. Like a melody, like a prayer. She hummed in response, urging you to continue. You sat up, taking a deep breath and looking into her eyes. She grew nervous seeing you so anxious.

“May… May I court you… Brienne of Tarth. Properly court you?” You watched her reaction before continuing. Her eyes widened as she watched you, speechless. Was this really happening?

“I- I have found myself a fool for you ever since I laid my eyes on you for the first time. So..- here I ask you. Will you allow me to court you, to cherish you… to love you?” You looked at her, holding your breath in nervous anticipation of her answer. Brienne nodded gently, tears threatening to swell in her eyes. She couldn’t believe her ears. But you were so sincere, you… you really loved her. She sat up, went on one knee and held your hand, looking into your eyes.

“My Lady… Y/N,” she started, “I will shield your back and give my life for yours if it comes to that. I swear it by the old gods and the new. I am yours, eternally.” You smiled at her, not being able to hold back your tears, as you wrapped your arms around her and kissed her lips. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to her as she let her emotions flow freely. Not once has she felt this loved and cherished. You pulled away, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears from under her eyes.

“My Brienne,” you whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss once more.

-------

Taglist: @erinyaya @vivendraws @phexyce @winterfireblond

As always comments and likes are greatly appreciated <3

#Brienne of Tarth #Brienne x reader #Brienne of Tarth x Reader #Reader insert #Gwendoline Christie #Gwendoline Christie fanfic #Gwendoline Christie Character #wlw #sapphic #fluff #queer #lesbian

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dianneking · 7 months ago

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The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?"

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop.

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining.

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo.

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again.

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one."

"But you will read it?"

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This."

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?"

"You'll like it."

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff.

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it."

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?"

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did.

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze.

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?"

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs.

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day).

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!”

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was.

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!!

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side.

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name!

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course.

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor and book fair dates.

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?"

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?"

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months.

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded.

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight.

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?”

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past.

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go.

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging.

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot.

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay.

_____

It was not okay.

It was anything but okay.

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess.

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly.

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply.

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time.

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to

GET OUT OF HERE!!

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?"

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?"

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!"

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this."

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading."

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she?

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–"

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists.

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you.

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands.

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?"

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to.

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together."

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste.

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy.

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #got fanfiction #asoiaf

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erinyaya · 9 months ago

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she’s my kitty meow meow :3

#brienne of tarth #gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth x reader

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llonelygoddess · 1 year ago

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How they react to...you getting injured

A/N: I hope this doesn't sound redundant but here ya go :)

Romantic Pairings: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy, Khal Drogo, Brienne of Tarth, Missandei

Ned Stark: If you got injured it would most likely be from falling off your horse during a casual ride. As the doting husband he is he would be rushing to your side and calling maesters to check on you. With only a small bruise to show for you try to get back on the horse but Ned doesn't allow it. He doesn't mean to control you, he only wants to keep you safe from any more serious injuries that won't heal as easy as a bruise.

Robb Stark: With Robb, he normally has guards with you at all times because he worries for your safety. When one of them turns out to be a spy with intent to hurt you, Robb is livid. You were pushed and left with a few bruises but all he sees is red. Robb sentences the man to die and takes his head for it. He spends the rest of the day with you in bed, feeling guilty while he looks at your injuries. You'll definitely want to console him cause he will cry, especially thinking of what COULD have happened to you.

Jon Snow: He truly believes in your ability to take care of yourself, but when you get hurt during a fight he rushes to your side without second thought. You'll both have to fight your way out of the conflict but once you're safe he checks on your wounds. He asks for a maester to check them out to keep out infection and feels a little useless not being able to do anything himself. Jon makes it a point to joke about it to take away the serious energy going on and promises to always have your back.

Sansa Stark: Girly is straight up crying. Doesn't matter if it was just a little accident or you were roughed up by some thugs, younger Sansa is a crier. When she finds you she's holding onto you with strength you didn't know she had. Unlike older Sansa who would be ready to pass someone's death sentence, younger Sansa only cares about you feeling better. She does her best to make you a prayer wheel like her mother does for her.

Margaery Tyrell: She'd be a lot more calm than you'd think, at least around others. Once she sees you lying in bed with your leg elevated, she's questioning the hell out of you. What happened? Who was it? Do you need anything? Milk of the Poppy? It's almost entertaining to see how much she worries in contrast to her usual cool attitude. After you assure her that you're alright she's cuddling up in bed with you, probably to read something to you.

Theon Greyjoy: Pre!Reek Theon would instantly be at arms and ready to fight whoever touched you. He's possessive and the thought of ANYONE touching you pisses him off but especially if they meant to harm you. He wouldn't know how to express his worry for you so he'd just angrily stand by you as you recover. Post!Reek Theon is deeply insecure and guilty about you getting hurt. He still wants to fight whoever hurt you but he's more concerned with making sure you're okay.

Khal Drogo: *Activate instant death mode* I mean we saw what happened when Daenerys almost got poisoned, think about actually getting poisoned. Having to lay in bed for days while Drogo goes out in search for whoever did this to you. It doesn't matter why they did it or if you die or not, all that matters to him is giving them the most painful death possible. When he's done, he sits at your bedside knowing you are strong and capable of overcoming this.

Brienne of Tarth: It was only a training accident but your messed up ankle reminded Brienne how fragile you were. She was born and raised to endure the pain that came with being a knight/fighting, but you never asked for it. She'll feel upset at herself for not teaching you properly and it'll come off as anger towards you. Truly she doesn't mean it but if being hard on you will keep you safe next time then she knows what she has to do.

Missandei: Tearsss. She's crying before she even knows what happened to you. Stays by your bedside as you heal from a battle wound and takes responsibility for changing your dressings and cleaning the injury. Missandei knows that this is the life you've chosen to live, but sometimes she wishes she could take you away to her homeland safe from any harm.

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones preferences #game of thrones #got fanfiction #got x reader #got headcanons #got #ned stark x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader #sansa stark x reader #missandei x reader #brienne of tarth headcanons #brienne of tarth #khal drogo x reader #theon greyjoy x reader

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charliedawn · 3 months ago

Text

Their last words to you:

Sandor Clegane:

You had been ambushed and attacked by a bunch of thieves. Sandor had had no choice but to fight back and try to kill all of them—but he had suffered through numerous stabbing wounds and at the end, he knew he wasn’t gonna make it. He fell to the ground as you screamed and cried out his name. You tried to stop the blood from flowing, but you couldn’t. He had too many injuries and you could only sob as you desperately tried to find a solution.

But…

Sandor lifted a hand to your cheek and his eyes met yours. You both knew that he wouldn’t last much longer and there was so many things he had to say and that he wouldn’t have the time to say. So many things he had hoped he would get to do and experience with you. And now, he felt that tell-tale pang in his chest.

He could almost laugh at the irony. For so long, he had laughed at the face of death and taunted it to come get him. But now, he was willing to pray for just another day with you.

He swallowed with difficulty before speaking up—his voice low and shaky.

"…You are…everything I never deserved. Everything I never thought I’d ever find in this fucked up world. And fuck…You made me want to live, Y/N. But now…I have no choice but to ask you. Please. Please, Y/N. Do not let me suffer. I hate pain. So, you gonna have to cut our goodbyes short—yeah ?"

You shook your head at first. No. No. You wouldn’t do it. You refused to do it. There had to be another way. A way to save him. Anything.

"Y/N. I need ya. I need ya. Please." He insisted and you sobbed harder. No. You didn’t want to say goodbye to Sandor. But when he stared at you with pleading eyes and blood stained your hands…you knew that there was nothing to be done. You sighed and took out your knife. You pressed your forehead against his.

"…See you soon, Sandor."

You then kissed his forehead before stabbing him in the heart.

Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger):

"Y/N…" He started and you looked up to meet his gaze. "I warned you when we first met. Falling in love with me would be a mistake, that I would only end up disappointing you."

His eyes were empty. Gone was the arrogant and manipulative little weasel you had grown to love and respect. Only Petyr remained now. He looked at you without actually seeing you. He seemed so pitiful now…Had he always been that way inside ? Lost and empty and miserable ? Had you really fallen for that man ?

"I never regretted choosing you, Petyr." You still replied and a small smile graced his features—sad and pitiful.

"Petyr…" You whispered. "Is this…Is this really goodbye ?"

He took a shuddering breath and addressed you a saddened smile.

"I am afraid so, sweetheart."

Sweetheart…That name. That affectionate little name which made your heart happy and your mind content. He was trying to tell you something. Petyr Baelish had never told that he loved you. He had never been able to get through that obstacle as long as you had known him.

But that little sweetheart had still managed to wrap you around his little finger.

He had you eating out of the palm of his hand.

And now, you were sitting across from him. It was almost time for the execution. You didn’t look each other in the eyes. You knew you should be afraid, but you weren’t. You knew it didn’t matter anymore.

Too late to change fate now.

A guard came.

"Lord Petyr Baelish. Lady Y/N Baelish. It is time."

You both looked at the guard before looking at each other. Petyr stood up and offered you his hand.

"…Shall we, my Lady wife ?"

You looked at his outstretched hand and smiled before taking it.

"Lead the way, my Lord husband."

Even after the execution…rumours has it that you and Petyr’s hands stayed firmly locked together—united until death and beyond.

Oberyn Martell:

"Come on, little flower. We had our fun, didn’t we ?"

When Oberyn said those words, you knew. You knew that this was the end. He had grown bored of you. It was to be expected of course, but it still hurt. You forced yourself to smile.

"Very well. I hope we can still remain friends, my Prince ?" You asked—hopeful. His friendship was dear to you and you so loved his company. If he thought that he didn’t desire your body anymore, but you still wanted to enjoy his company and hear his wonderful poetry…

He smiled—but it seemed so fake.

"Of course, my little flower. I would like that."

Liar.

The word echoed in his own head. He was a liar. Being your friend was far from what he wanted. He wanted your brain, your heart and your beautiful soul to belong to him and for it to remain so until you both grew old and withered.

But…he had to protect you.

He knew he would be fighting the Mountain soon. Ellaria was strong enough to withstand his possible defeat and death. But, you ? You were such a lovely and delicate little flower. If he was to disappear and break your heart upon his death, then you would certainly lose your mind. Oberyn loved you enough to realise that the best was to break your heart instead of your mind. He hence decided to prepare you for the perspective that he may not survive.

He saw you turn around to leave and he lifted a hand towards your retreating form. He opened his mouth to speak up, but reconsidered and lowered his arm. It was…better this way. And if he was to win the fight ? Then, he would explain everything to you and you would laugh it off together…

A few days later, he faced Ser Gregor Clegane.

He managed to stay on top for most of the fight and both you and Ellaria were happy to see Oberyn finally get revenge for Elia and her children.

But then…Oberyn’s eyes met yours.

He smiled at you and before you knew it, Ser Gregor had cut off his head. You felt your heart stop in your chest. Unlike Ellaria, you didn’t scream—not a sound managed its way past your lips at that moment. You just stared as your ex-lover’s head rolled down his shoulders and kept rolling until it stopped a few feet away from you. He was still smiling. That smile. That lovely and sweet and warm smile that made you feel as if everything would be alright…

You then wordlessly got out a crossbow you had been hiding and aimed at Gregor’s head before unhesitatingly shooting. The arrow went straight through his skull and the giant dropped dead on the sand right next to Oberyn’s body. Before anyone could stop you, you then picked up Oberyn’s head and cradled it in your arms before walking away.

No one dared to stop you.

Tyrion Lannister:

When Tyrion had asked to meet with you in the Red Keep’s gardens…you had been so excited—happy to see him again after all those days of absence working for Daenerys. You had prepared yourself to welcome him with a warm embrace and a long dialogue under the shades of trees. But…you would have never expected his first words to you after such a long time apart to be the following:

"It is best we keep it at that."

Your eyes widened as you heard Tyrion reject you. You were stunned for a moment. Then, you laughed. You thought it was a joke. But, he didn’t laugh—he didn’t even smile at you. Your amusement immediately vanished. You couldn’t understand why he would say something like that. Had you done something wrong ? What was going on ? He couldn’t…He wouldn’t possibly…But you looked him in the eyes and you gasped as you realised that he was serious. It was over. He was ending it. After everything you had been through, after everything…He was just ending it all.

"I am sorry." He added and your eyes watered.

"No. No. Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that." You seethed and felt bile rise up in your throat. You should have expected it, but you surprised yourself by being genuinely shocked by his sudden decision to set you aside.

"Y/N. Please…" He started before you interrupted him.

"I LOVE YOU !"

His mouth remained opened in shock by your words and you hoped that he would believe you and realise the humongous mistake he was making—but his answer was ten times worse than if he had just rejected you.

"…Yes. I know." He confessed before looking at you apologetically. "I am sorry. Goodbye, Y/N."

And with that, he turned away and walked away. Once he was out of sight, you dropped to the ground—hot tears running down your cheeks. Why ? You didn’t understand. Why did you have to fall in love with that man ? That absolutely brilliant, but cruel man. You thought he would be different, that he wouldn’t leave you, that he would be your forever and you would be his…

How wrong you were…

Sansa Stark:

Sansa doesn’t know when it happened exactly. The moment she had fallen in love with you. Perhaps at the very beginning. Before she had learnt about the hardships of life and womanhood. You had grown up together and she knew that you were the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. You were the person she had begged her father to betroth her to. And you were the one willing to go far and wide to make her happy. When you were both together, only smiles remained on both of your faces.

But then…She had attracted King Joffrey’s attention and from that moment on, everything had changed for the worse. She had had to watch her father be executed and many people of their closed entourage.

But, not you. No. Joffrey had had much better planned for you. He had dragged you through King’s Landing—your wrists bound to his horse as you were forced to follow as rotten vegetables were thrown your way. You were then brought to a pile of wood and attached to a wooden pole—for all to witness. Joffrey had then set fire to the pile of wood you were standing on and as you were about to burn into ashes, your eyes sought out the ones of your beloved in the assembly.

When your eyes met hers, the only thought that crossed your mind was that you weren’t going to make it and that you wanted to see her beautiful smile one last time. You smiled at her through your tears and Sansa understood. She forced herself to smile back—even though all she wanted was to break down in tears and scream for the mercy she knew you would never receive from the Lannisters.

You were embraced by the flames right in front of her eyes.

From that very moment, all her smiles were cold and grim—without the person she had decided to share her heart with. Joffrey had asked her many times to smile at him the way she had smiled at her traitor of a fiancé/e. But, she was never capable of repeating it ever again. You were gone—the source of all her happiness and hopes—and she had no reason to smile anymore.

Or she would, once this whole place burnt to the ground.

Brienne of Tarth:

"Please. Stay. Do not leave me." Brienne begged you as she looked into your eyes. She was scared and horrified by the thought of losing you. You had been bitten by one of the white walkers and you could feel the blood slowly freeze up in your veins. You knew you were dying and you looked at Brienne with cold tears running down your cheeks.

"…I am sorry, Brienne. But I won’t be able to obey your command." You smiled sadly at her and she sobbed—her eyes holding all the sorrows of this world. You had been the only one to support her in her journey as a knight and even offer to be her esquire when none would agree to serve a female knight. But you had believed in her and learnt to love her. She held you closer and cried against your chest as you started stroking her hair soothingly.

"Live, Brienne. Live for me." You whispered to her.

It was too late for you. But, you wanted her to keep fighting until the very end. Your eyes then looked up to see Jaime standing behind her. He had a sorrowful expression on and you smiled at him before addressing him one command.

"Protect…each other."

You then closed your eyes and managed to stay long enough to hear Jaime answer you that he would. You smiled as life left your body. You wouldn’t be there to help or support her, but you were certain that Brienne would fight her hardest till the end—because that was who she was. Before your last breath, you felt warm lips meet your freezing ones. You knew whose they were. You tried to reciprocate the kiss, but darkness overwhelmed you and you knew that this was the end…

‘Goodbye, my love.’ You thought before all disappeared and you took your final breath in the arms of your beloved.

Jaime Lannister:

Jaime had just returned victorious from a battle and had rode faster than the wind to return to King’s Landing and tell you all about it. Only for his smile to drop as he finally reached the castle to see a funeral procession making its way towards the sea. He got off his horse and asked a nearby old woman who they had died. The old woman turned towards him with tearful eyes.

"Alas—my young Prince. Today is a sad day indeed. For we bury our dearest Lady/Lord Y/N."

Jaime was stunned and he couldn’t move for a few seconds. The old woman followed the procession and Jaime looked at them go—his eyes having lost their enthusiastic spark. He had waited and prayed to go home to see you again. He wanted to laugh with you and tell you all about his strange encounters and how he had managed to lead the army to glorious victory. He looked as your carefully wrapped body was carried through the streets of King’s Landing towards the water and laid down gently on a bed of flowers in a large wooden boat.

Jaime had followed as you were mourned by all of King’s Landing. You had been born a commoner, but had succeeded in becoming a valued member of Cersei’s court. He had met you at your beginnings as a member of the High Council. You had studied hard and supported all mocking jeers and taunts surrounding you to help your people. And now, they were the ones who were to see you go and bide you farewell.

He stared as your pretty little boat floated away.

His jaw twitched and he restrained tears as he saw the only person he had ever loved beside Cersei disappearing in the distance. He was the last one to leave the port and as people walked by to their homes around him—he heard multiple echoes of what had actually happened. You had died—killed by Cersei. She had waited until he was gone before sending the Mountain to kill you. And you had suffered. Days and days of tortured and screaming and tears left unheard which the entire of King’s Landing had been unaware of…And you had had to face your last moments alone and scared and in pain.

He didn’t even try to defend Cersei.

He knew she was capable of it. But what he didn’t understand was…why ?

And then, he returned to the castle and found Cersei in her room—arranging her hair. She looked completely unbothered and smiled as she saw Jaime’s reflection in her mirror.

"Jaime. You are back." She then dared to smile at him—as if she didn’t know. But, she knew. She knew. He knew she knew. His eyes were red-rimmed and he asked with a broken voice:

"Why ?"

Cersei didn’t even attempt to pretend that she didn’t know what he was referring to. She only kept a smile on and replied simply:

"Because they annoyed me. That’s why."

His eyes widened at his sister’s monstrous words…He hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye.

Jon Snow:

Jon died and was reborn by the red witch.

But you ? They had killed you. You hadn’t been deemed important enough to be brought back to life and your body had been in such a pitiful state that even if he was to ask the red witch to bring you back—there wouldn’t be anything for your soul to return into. Jon had to wake up to the cruel realisation that he wouldn’t get to see you ever again.

You had stood by him. Until the very end.

You had both tried to fight off the rogue night watchers who had decided to get rid of Jon. You had fought valiantly with your sword withdrawn and blood spilling from both you and the other guards. You had fought like a lion. Refusing to back down and let them kill him.

You and him knew it was a lost battle.

But as he had felt his brothers’ daggers pierce him from all directions—all he could see was you. You had screamed as you were held down and forced to watch as he was robbed of his life first. Jon could have forgiven them for that. For killing him. But you ? The fact that they had forced you to watch before slashing your throat and feeding your body to the hounds…

That. He could never forgive.

It was your sword he used to cut the rope and hang all the traitors in one instant. They all squirmed and thrashed as they desperately tried to survive. Some even looked at Jon with pleading eyes—but found no mercy in his eyes. Once the last one had stopped moving, he took a deep breath and looked up at the dark and cloudy sky.

Daenerys:

"Please. Forgive me, my love." You whispered—tears rolling down your cheeks as you were forced to watch the woman you loved slowly die by your own hand. You had been by her side from the very beginning. You had fought alongside her to achieve her slow and glorious ascent to the top. You had watched and smiled as she had burnt down King’s Landing to the ground. You had hoped that this would finally be the end of the suffering and misery.

But…

You had then seen the people who had died. People who didn’t deserve it. People who had tried to protect and soothe their crying children as they were burnt alive and whose statues of ashes would remain forever interlocked. You brought a hand to your face at the stench of death and burning flesh. Then, you looked up at her. At your queen. Your khaleesi. Your heart. She was looking at the carnage with such intensity and satisfaction that it sent a shiver down your spine.

No…

You couldn’t. You couldn’t let her rule over Westeros—no matter how much your heart ached at the thought and how long you had fought for her to get there. You knew Ser Jorah would be disappointed in you and that all the people who had died to get her where she was would be cursing your name from their resting place for all of eternity…but not as loud as your own voice as you plunged that dagger into her heart.

The surprise in her eyes was the worst part. That…genuine shock. As if she really hadn’t expected it. You kissed her forehead. Oh…How you loved her. You loved her so much. But, even though your heart was shattered and your tears were true, you couldn’t let the world suffer through another Cersei—or worse. You simply couldn’t. And you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself for not seeing earlier what or who she was becoming and the pain it would cause you both. You hated yourself for not being able to protect her, or for not having the same blinding love than Ser Jorah had for her. Your eyes saw. And what they had seen was a world of ashes that she would rule over. And then, Littlefinger’s words came back to you.

"Chaos is a ladder…"

How right he was…but love was as much a ladder. And one who rarely led you up or where you wanted to be.

Ser Jorah:

During the final battle, just as sunrise painted the sky with touches of warm colours, you found yourself still standing. Your eyes met with Ser Jorah’s and you smiled at each other. You were alive. You walked forward to join him when your eyes caught sight of a white walker running towards him. You had but a few seconds to act. You ran forward to push Ser Jorah out of the way and got impaled by the spear instead. Ser Jorah’s eyes widened in shock and he gritted his teeth before cutting the white walker’s head off and catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground.

"No. My Lady/My Lord." He whispered sorrowfully and stroked your cheek—tears gathering in his eyes. He looked at your wound and the blood dripping down your chin.

But, you chuckled.

"Come on, Ser Jorah. Won’t you call me by my name ? There will never be another chance for me to hear it from your lips."

He wanted to deny your words and tell you that you were going to be alright. But, that would have been a lie. He gripped your hand and pressed his forehead against yours before asking—his heart hammering in his chest at the realisation that you had sacrificed yourself for him. Him who had never done anything to deserve it. Him who had rejected you time and time again. Him who had never been able to return the love you seemed to harbour towards him within your heart…

"Y/N. Why ?" He finally asked and you smiled up tenderly at him.

"You protected me." You replied with nothing but adoration in your eyes. "You respected me. I know your heart and eyes belong to Daenerys, but you stole mine—Ser Jorah. You made me happy. You always did what you thought was right and offered me someone to care about. And so, you swore to serve Daenerys. Unaware that I—myself—had made an oath of my own. To protect…you." You whispered as your eyes slowly closed in his arms—the place you cherished most. You nestled your face against him. Just for a moment, you would bask in his warmth…Ser Jorah had never pretended to love you or lied to you about his feelings towards the queen of dragons. But…you didn’t even resent him for it. He had offered you friendship and affection beyond anyone you had ever came across…If you were to die for someone—then you were fine with it being him.

You looked up and smiled before lifting your lips to his. If he was to be so kind as to grant a dying soul one last wish…He seemed to hesitate for a second before planting his lips against yours. And then, Ser Jorah felt a cruel warmth ignite within his very being. His eyes fluttered shut and he brought you closer…taking your first kiss and last breath in one instant…

Your eyes stayed closed and your arms dropped to the ground.

Ser Jorah opened his eyes and his heart clenched as he glanced down at the person who he had failed to protect and his sorrow only grew as he realised that he had also failed himself. For in your last breath, he had found something that he had denied you all this time, and his tears only turned even more bitter at the terrible reality that he could have had you. That he had you and your love. And had lost both because of his own blindness…

"Forgive me…my dear Lady/Lord Y/N."

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #sandor clegane x reader #brienne x reader #petyr baelish x reader #petyr littlefinger baelish #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #sansa stark x reader #jon snow x reader #jaime lannister x reader #daenerys x reader #ser jorah x reader #got

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