#brienne fanfiction

[dianneking]

10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes - Day 9 (Brienne of Tarth)

We've reached the second-to-last day of our 10 days of goodbyes, and these last two are among my favorites, I must admit. I hope you like today's upload as much as I liked writing it.

Summary: A love story between a lady and her guard, especially if that guard is another woman, is filled with obstacles and pain. Some are easier to get past, to elegantly steer clear of, but what will happen when the difficulties grow insurmountable?

TW: Drabble, Angst, Goodbyes, Break Up, Arranged Marriages, Dialogue-Only, Hurt No Comfort - Wordcount: 100 w - AO3 link in title below

Day 9: Brienne of Tarth - Look at Me

“The horse is ready, milady.”

“Brienne, I…”

“Your fiancé will be waiting.”

“I swear I didn’t know…”

“I am merely here to escort you to him. Milady.”

“Brienne, please.”

“I shall be waiting for you by the gates.”

“WON'T YOU JUST LOOK AT ME IN THE EYES!”

“…”

“I didn’t know! It was my father, he…”

“It is of no consequence milady. It was my mistake. I should have known my place.”

“Your place? Your place is by my side!”

“As your guard. Nothing more.”

“Brienne, I love you!”

“It is not me you are going to marry in ten days.”

Liked it? Here's the link to the previous one, as well as to the next one! And to the 10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes masterpost! And to my own masterlist of all my fanfictions!

[llonelygoddess]

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.

[rippersz]

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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[thewench-and-thekingslayer]

Congratulations Jaime and Brienne fandom for hitting this incredible milestone! 🎉

Jaime and Brienne have been the #1 Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire relationship at Archive of our Own for years and now it is the first ship in this fandom to break 10,000!

The love for JB still grows! Happy day! We appreciate and thank all the lovely JB fanfic writers of the past and present!

[littledollll]

Loving

Brienne of Tarth x reader

A/n: I needed some brienne sweetness in my life and I saw a couple of people talking about the same thing. This came to me in just a few days and I’m very happy with it! I need to remind myself that my fics don’t always have to be over 1,000 words.

Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate and happy holidays🎊

Warnings: not much, playful banter, lots of loving (as title suggests), Brienne adores you, you adore Brienne, mentions (barely) long distance relationship? A bit of a playfully possessive reader.

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Brienne always made sure to be extra quiet when she arrived home late, not wanting to risk waking you and ruining your precious sleep, there’d always be time for all the greeting and talking in the morning.

She was pleasantly surprised to find you were wide awake and seemed to have been waiting for her for quite some time. There was a cup of tea placed on the table and a book you were merely scanning with your eyes before you looked up at her.

“Look at you trying to be sneaky in that clanky armor..” you mused.

“It works when you’re asleep, or at least I’ve been led to believe it does?” She said as she dropped every item she was carrying near the door for later.

“No no.. it does work. I appreciate you not waking me up, but don’t you deserve a little company once you’re finally back?” You said as you stood and made your way towards her.

“I missed you so much, pretty..” you murmured softly as you stood on your tippy toes, your arms wrapped around her neck, and pulling her into a tight hug. “The least I could do is help you get ready for bed.”

“That’s nonsense. There’s no need for such a thing, it’s not too much work and I rather see you sleeping peacefully than disturb you for something I can do myself.” She counter argued.

“Absolutely nothing about being with you could ever disturb me in any way. I appreciate you way more than I do my sleep.”

“Oh my that’s a heavy statement. You do love to sleep.” Brienne said with a smile grazing her face as she hugged around your waist.

“I love you way more.” You said as you pulled back a bit to look at her.

“You look too stunning, seriously. I can’t have you looking like this while you’re far away from me, somebody’s bound to steal you away.” Your smile light up every part of her soul as you spoke, but your teasing was endless every time she visited you.

“Don’t start with that..” Brienne seemed a bit flustered at that, but she was quick to wrap her own arms tighter around you, lifting you into her grasp. You let out a little yelp in surprise as she lifted you up, but quickly regained your composure to shoot her a look.

Brienne sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping you wrapped up in her arms as you sat on her lap.

“Are you saying I’m not allowed to call my woman, pretty?” You mused as you played with her hair. “Mm.. you’re allowed.. but you know no one will steal me away from you.” She mumbled as she nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“They better not.”

“Love-“ Brienne started a sigh, before getting cut off by you.

“I’m serious!”

She moved her head to look at you, a soft, more than beautiful smile on her lips. “I know you are.”

“I love that about you. So unnecessarily possessive when you know I’m yours. I love you.” She could spend a thousand years listing all the things she loves about you. If only it were possible.

You hummed, pulling her into a kiss in response. It carried a world of softness and love she could feel in her soul. She didn’t know how you did it. You made her feel so complete, you made her feel the love of the whole universe.

You rested your forehead against hers once you pulled away. “I love you too.”

[cissyenthusiast010155]

You’re Too Good For Me ~Larissa Weems xBrienne of Tarth

Summary— Inspired by this post made by @franouo !! “WHAT IF (in an AU) Larissa survived Marylin's atack (SHE'S ALIVE) and needs protección AND somehow Brienne shows up, maybe a portal or time travel (idk how yet) and they start this kind of dry relationship in the begging for mutual interests, like Larissa needs protección (maybe debelop panic atacks after all the trauma) and Brienne needs help to come back to Westeros and the only person who can help is Larissa because all the principal of a "Magic school" thing like Brienne says but with in the time pass they break each others walls and start falling for each other.”

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, smut, eating out, fingering, kissing, implied loss of virginity, flustering, first times, first orgasm, strangers to friends to lovers, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

By the grace of god or whatever supreme fucking being, Larissa has survived Marilyn’s nightshade poisoning. Everyone said that it had been a miracle. No one had been known to survive nightshade poisoning in the past…

Larissa, of course, was relieved to have survived. She was grateful, mostly. But part of her struggled with the fact that she had indeed died for an extended amount of time. And that she had then come back to life…

It was hard for the blonde to comprehend. The whole experience had thoroughly traumatized the principal… She couldn’t go a day without our heightened anxiety, couldn’t go a week without at least one panic attack.

As the school year came to a close, the events of that fatal night fading into the past, and all the students got sent home, Larissa was left pretty much on her own at the school, as most of the staff had gone too. There were certain responsibilities that the principal had to uphold over the summer at Nevermore, such as keeping the school in good shape for the upcoming school year.

Even though it had been weeks, Larissa felt her anxiety, and panic, and vigilance like her near death experience had occurred yesterday…

~

One particularly hot summer day, Larissa was making her daily rounds of the school, when she saw a shimmer of blue gleaming in the morning sun down the road from the school.

The blue figure came closer and closer, and Larissa made out the person to be some kind of knight…? The knight came through the gates and walked up to Larissa. At a closer glance, the blonde principal realized that the tall knight was in fact a lady.

“Excuse me? Can I help you…?” Larissa asked.

The woman looked breathless and confused.

“Sorry to bother you, madam… but are you Lady Weems?” Brienne asked.

Larissa was taken aback slightly by the formal title. But she kept her cool demeanor.

“I am. And you are?”

“My name is Brienne of Tarth. I have traveled far to your land to request your aid.” The blonde knight explained.

Larissa looked at the woman puzzled.

“Oh…? And what for?” She asked.

“It seems I accidentally was portaled to your land, M’Lady, and I need assistance to get back. I was told by a fellow traveler that you and your school for magic would hold answers.” Brienne breathed out.

Larissa pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

“Why don’t you come in, Brienne…?” She offered, indicating with her hand to the school.

Brienne’s eyes lit up and she nodded.

“Yes M’Lady…!”

“Larissa will do just fine, Darling.” Larissa insisted, putting her hand up and shooing Briennes formal title aside.

Brienne blushed lightly and nodded. Larissa then led the other tall blonde up to the school, through the corridors, and into her office. Larissa shut the door behind her, and indicated for Brienne to take a seat.

Brienne then spent a better part of an hour explaining how she had somehow traveled through space and time. She had been pulled through a blueish-purple glowing portal, against her will, and turned up in Vermont. After Brienne had finally finished her tarry tale, she asked the begging question,

“So, Larissa… Will you help me return to Westeros?”

Larissa smiled and nodded.

“I cannot promise anything, but I will certainly try my hardest, Darling.” She breathed out.

Brienne’s eyes sparkled with gratitude and hope.

“Thank you M’l—Larissa. How can I ever repay you…??” The knight asked.

“It’s no trouble, Darling, really I insist.”

“No please, let me return the favor…” Brienne insisted.

Larissa signed and contemplated.

“Very well. Now that you mention it…” she breathed out, “I could use your protection…”

Brienne nodded immediately.

“I understand, and you shall have it, Larissa…!” She exclaimed.

This made Lariss smile. She appreciated that Brienne hadn’t pried into why she wanted protection. And she felt grateful at the woman’s eagerness to help.

And that was how Larissa and Brienne’s mutual beneficial relationship started. Brienne was quick to move into the castle, taking one of the available staff private quarters.

The relationship at the beginning was dry and base on pure mutual interest. Larissa did her daily duties to care for Nevermore, and on the side, she back researching possible solutions for Brienne’s return.

Brienne insisted that she help the tall, blonde principal with some of the school duties. Larissa at first wouldn’t hear of it, but then the school caretaker quit on her, and she was forced to face the idea of cleaning all of Nevermore on her own until she could hire a new caretaker. So Larissa let Brienne help her by keeping the grounds clean and tidy, especially the outside.

On the days where Larissa was really riddled with anxiety and panic, Brienne was more than happy to take up more responsibility. Larissa began to trust the woman as she proved herself to be quite capable.

And slowly, the relationship between Larissa and Brienne began to shift…

Brienne and Larissa got into the habit of spending their evenings together. They would sip wine and talk the night away. It got easier and easier as the time slipped by.

~~

“So you are a knight from where you are from?” Larissa asked the other woman, putting her feat up and relaxing in her chair after a long day.

“Mhmmm, yes Westeros…” Brienne sighed.

“That must be difficult…” Larissa sympathized.

“Dear God you have no idea…” Brienne chuckled, using humor to hide her pain and suffering.

“Tell me about it…? If you wish…” the blonde principal cooed softly.

Brienne eventually opened up to the struggle she faced as a female knight back home. She poured her heart out in vulnerability, talking about the pain and suffering she’d endured to get where she was today.

~~

In turn and when Larissa was ready, she began opening up about her death.

“What about you…? I imagine something must have happened…” Brienne prodded, trying not to be too pushy as she knew this was a touchy subject for the other woman.

“I…” Larissa stammered, pausing and taking a deep breath, “I died.”

Brienne had assumed something traumatic must have had happened to the blonde woman, as many nights, Brienne found herself rushing to Larissa’s quarters to comfort the woman from her night terrors and panic attacks.

~~

Soon, the two women began to develop a true bond. And now, Larissa dreaded the say when they figured out how to bring Brienne home. And Brienne dreaded the day Larissa wouldn’t want her around anymore, enough to figure it out.

On just another evening, the women were sitting in Larissa’s office. This evening, Brienne wasn’t drinking, she was too wound up.

“Everything alright, Darling…?” Larissa asked, taking a sip of her wine.

Brienne sighed.

It was bugging her. Her impending leave.

The summer was almost up, the school year would start again, and Larissa would have no time for her anymore…

“I… Simply wound too tight today it seems…” Brienne breathed out.

Larissa pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

“Anything in particular making you anxious…?” She asked.

Brienne bit her lip and looked away. Larissa sat up and placed a hand on Brienne’s thigh.

And Brienne gasped. Loud.

“Talk to me, love. Please…” Larissa pled.

Brienne gulped. Her heart began to race, and her cheeks went rosy red.

“I… don’t want to leave” she whispered in confession.

The knight looked down in sadness, not being able to meet the other woman’s gaze. She expected Larissa to condemn her or get angry.

But instead, Larissa’s one hand caresses Brienne’s thigh in calming circles, and her other hand came under to cup Brienne’s chin. Larissa moved the woman’s head to meet her gaze.

As Brienne met Larissa’s eyes, she saw sparkling orbs. They weren’t filled with anger, no… care…? understanding…? something else…??

Brienne’s breath was bated and shallow.

“Hey, it’s okay, Darling. Take a deep breath” Larissa breathed out in comfort.

And that Brienne did. She took several, before meeting Larissa’s gaze one more.

Now the blonde principal’s eye flickered away from Brienne’s gaze, down to the blue knights lips and back up. It was just for a fraction of a second, but it was clear.

“I… I don’t want you to leave either.” Larissa breathed out softly.

Their eyes were locked together, stuck in this trance, Larissa’s hands still on Brienne’s chin and thigh. Brienne bit her lip anxiously, her stomache having erupts with butterfly’s.

They were entranced by each other’s gaze, presence, being… Each blond wanted the other’s lips on their own. Now it was Brienne’s turn for her gaze to flicker down to the other woman’s lips.

Larissa took this as her cue to lean forward more, bringing the two impossibly close. Brienne instinctually leaned further forward, leaving mere centimeters in space between their lips. But it was Larissa who closed the gap, her soft, plump lips pressing into Brienne’s lips.

Brienne immediately let out a light gasp. At first Larissa thought that it wasn’t a good sign, until Brienne suddenly grasped Larissa’s upper body with both hands and tugged her closer and tight. Larissa let out a breathy groan, her lips not pressed and bruised against Brienne’s.

Larissa began exploring, letting her tongue run along the other’s lips. Brienne immediately hummed in delight, leading to the blonde principal to start nipping and putting more playfulness into the kiss.

The more hums and gasps and sighs Larissa pulled from the blonde’s lips, the more encouraged she felt to heat up the kiss, until the two of them finally had to pull away for oxygen after a solid couple of minutes of breathless kissing.

Brienne blushed and looked away, as Larissa met the her gaze.

“Was that alright…?” Larissa asked.

Brienne blushed even harder and bit her lip, nodding slowly. Her gaze returned to the other woman’s.

“Perfect” Brienne whispered.

Now it was Larissa’s turn to blush and look away. Before Larissa could look back at Brienne, the knight pressed her lips against the blonde principal’s.

The kiss reignited, this time more heated and just as passionate. It started to become sloppy, tongues intertwining and breath mingling. Moans and groans escaping both women’s mouths.

Larissa’s hand on the other woman’s right began to push up on her thigh, riding Brienne’s night gown further and further up. Her other hand found purchase behind Brienne’s neck.

Brienne’s hands then sprung for Larissa’s hips, pulling the woman practically in her lap. Larissa groaned and bucked her hips into the knights lap. Brienne’s eyes threatened to roll back.

“M-more more more…” Brienne chanted in a whimpering plea.

Larissa couldn’t deny the beautiful knight. She slid down off of the couch, and she guided Brienne to lay back on the couch. Brienne’s panting was erotic and loud, spurring Larissa on even more.

Kneeling in between Brienne’s legs and at the edge of the couch, Larissa looked up at the desperate woman.

It only now struck each woman what they were about to do.

But the exchanged glances solidified the fact that neither of them would regret it, and that they both wanted it just as bad as the other.

“Spread your legs for me, Darling…” Larissa breathed out in her sultry tone.

God Brienne felt sparks and waves of pleasure from this woman’s voice alone… She’d never felt this good before.

Brienne laid back all the way on the couch and immediately spread her legs for the blonde principal. Larissa sat herself right in front of Brienne’s core, rolling up her night gown and staring at the knights gleaming sex.

“W-what…?” Brienne stuttered, already starting to bliss out and confused as to why Larissa was merely staring.

“So pretty…” Larissa breathed out, entranced by Brienne and her dripping cunt.

Before Brienne could respond, Larissa had dove into her pussy. She wasted no time in slurping away at Brienne’s juices. Brienne’s hand jolted to Larissa’s hair, tightly grabbing her head by her pinned locks and shoving her further into her own cunt in desperation. Her other hand flew to the couch, scrunching the material in a tight fist.

“Ah ah AhhhHhH Larissa—” Brienne moaned out, her head thrown back and her eyes screwed shut.

Larissa licked through the woman’s folds, sucked and tapped her clit, bit and nipped at her inner thighs. All of this only made Brienne closer and louder. Her hold on Larissa’s hair tightened impossibly tight.

“Ah AhHhhHhhHh—!!!” Brienne cried out, her back arching and her hips jerking towards Larissa.

And when Larissa’s fingers began to circle Brienne’s entrance, and then actually entered the woman… Brienne lost it.

“God Lariss—AHHH…!!” Brienne screamed, “Faster FASTER—!!!” She begged.

The woman tore both her hands up towards her head. Larissa watched Brienne mesmerized the entire time. She added another finger and fucked her faster, fastening her lips to the woman clit. With a couple harsh sucks, Brienne snapped.

Brienne shed jolted back as she screamed through her orgasm. Her back arched even further, her body pulsed. She saw stars and her walls clenched hard around Larissa’s fingers.

“AH AH AH ahhh AhhhHhHH—!!” Brienne moaned and cried out.

Larissa watched jaw dropped as she fingered the woman through her orgasm.

She’d never seen anything so beautiful…

Once her cunt had stopped pulsating and clenching, Larissa slowly removed her digits. She just looked up at Brienne speechless.

Eventually, Brienne lowered her hands to reveal her hard blush.

“S-sorry… mm was too loud…” Brienne murmured.

Larissa shook her head with an open mouth. She promptly shut her mouth upon realizing how long she’d kept it open.

“No no, I… Was…. Was I that good..??” She breathlessly reassured her.

Brienne blushed furiously.

“I… I’d never… never you know…” Brienne whispered.

Larissa’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped again.

“Oh Lord, I didn’t even ask. I am so sorry, Darling—” the blonde principal began rambling.

But she was cut off by Brienne lunging forward, taking Larissa face in her hands, and smashing her lips against hers. She pulled away after a moment, and the other woman had her answer.

Brienne was beaming and Larissa couldn’t help the little smirk on her face.

“Perhaps a bath…” Larissa suggested softly.

“Don’t you…?” Brienne asked, concerned that Larissa hadn’t been helped.

But Larissa shook her head.

“Later. You need to be taken care of first, Darling.” She insisted.

Brienne blushed furiously yet again, before happily being led by Larissa to her private bathroom to take a bath together.

~~~

Brienne of Tarth Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[weemssapphic]

One More Night

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

You are a prisoner of Catelyn Stark, being escorted back to your family at King’s Landing by Brienne of Tarth in trade for her daughter’s safe return. You can’t help it when you develop feelings for Brienne on the way.

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, brief mentions of sexual assault, nsfw at the end (fingering, eating out)

Words: ~6.5k

ao3 link in title

“By the Gods, let me go!” You screamed, thrashing about against the strong arms of your captor. It was no use - at 6’3”, Brienne of Tarth was nearly a foot taller than you and at a definite advantage due to her broad shoulders and the vice-like grip that dug into your sides as she tied a thick rope around your middle, securing your arms against your torso. 

“Stay still, would you,” she muttered, easily tightening the knot in the rope as she dodged your feeble attempt at a headbutt. “Come on, let’s go. If we don’t leave now we won’t have made it even a mile by nightfall.”

Brienne made to begin the trek, the other end of the rope held securely in her fist. You, instead, glowered at her and dug your heels firmly into the ground, refusing to budge. Brienne felt the resistance at the other end of the rope and let out a sigh. She took two long steps towards you and suddenly the ground beneath your feet disappeared as she slung you over her shoulder, eliciting a loud yelp and a string of obscenities from your mouth. The large woman underneath you remained stoic, setting a brisk pace towards the line of trees in the distance. 

You had to admit, you thought as Brienne walked along the forest path, that it was kind of hot, Brienne of fucking Tarth, carrying you through the forest. In a different reality, perhaps she could have been your knight in shining armor. Heat rose to your cheeks, which you managed to convince yourself was solely due to the fact that you were still hanging head-first over Brienne’s shoulder. Surely that was the only reason the blood was rushing to your head. Surely. 

“You can put me down now,” you resigned. Brienne set you down, much more gently than you had anticipated. You gazed up, your eyes meeting hers, and for a moment the world around you stilled. Your breathing slowed, you felt a shiver run up your spine. Brienne’s gaze was questioning, fine lines appearing between her brows. Your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip, eyes flicking involuntarily down to Brienne’s lips. Brienne cleared her throat and looked away, her grip on your rope tightening. “Let’s go,” she murmured, clearly flustered, giving you a push in the right direction.

----

The snapping of a branch stopped the both of you dead in your tracks. Three strange men appeared on the path, clearly inebriated.  “Oh-ho, now what do we have here?” The apparent leader of the bunch sneered.  Brienne lay a hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes flicking between the men, distaste evident in the downward curl of her lips. “Leave us be.”

“A princess and her beast? Tell me, princess, where did you find this monster?” The men laughed.  “Her name is Brienne, and she’s no beast - not like you,” you shouted, taking a step towards the man and spitting at his feet in protest, as your hands were still bound to your sides. 

Brienne whispered your name, a quiet bid for you not to rile up the clearly dangerous men even further, but it was too late. 

The man sneered at you; “listen to the great beast,” he said, stepping towards you until you could feel his hot, stinking breath on your face. You glared up at him, which only made him laugh, and he reached up a hand to undo the laces at the front of your dress. “Such a pretty little thing.”

He seemed to have sorely underestimated the woman to your right, for no sooner had you felt his hand graze the smooth skin of your collarbone, did you see a flash of metal, followed by the most agonizing moan you’d ever heard. The man’s hand had been cut clean off at the wrist and as he and his band of drunken friends stared at his now hand-less wrist in horror, Brienne lunged forward once more, her sword going straight through the man’s stomach. His friends were quick to draw their own swords, but Brienne was quicker, her blade elegantly slicing both their throats within a matter of seconds.

“Are you alright?” Brienne asked, almost too calmly considering the fact that three bodies now lay in a bloody heap at your feet.

“Y-yes, I-“

“Why did you do that?” She interrupted. 

“Do what?” You furrowed your brow in confusion. Brienne’s expression was a strange mixture of wonder and anger that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“Defend me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Brienne studied your face, her eyes tracking your every feature as if searching for something unsaid.

“That was very dangerous,” she finally said, turning to continue the walk.

You stared after her incredulously, quickly realizing that she was not going to stop and jogging to keep up with her to avoid being dragged across the forest floor. 

“How about a thank you?” You panted, struggling to catch up as her long legs could carry her much farther much faster than yours could. 

“You thank me for stopping those men from assaulting you and maybe I’ll consider it,” her tone was serious but when you looked up at her, ready to argue, you saw her glance sideways at you, a smirk gracing her lips. Your heart fluttered, that heat from earlier returning to your cheeks. Making Brienne of Tarth smile, even a little bit, may have suddenly become your new favorite pastime.

“Thank you, my lady,” you teased, pausing your walk to curtsy before her. 

“I’m no lady,” Brienne replied, rolling her eyes. 

“My knight then? My knight in shining armor?” Your giddy laughter died in your throat as you saw Brienne’s smile fall from her face. 

“There’s no need to make fun of me,” she muttered, tugging harder at your rope, nearly causing you to faceplant into the mud. 

“I’m not-“ 

“You’re slowing us down, I want to put another 5 miles behind us before sundown.”

The silence for the rest of the afternoon was deafening. Any attempt to make conversation was met with a curt reply, any flirtation met with a dark look and a tug to the rope that left you stumbling over your own two feet. 

Darkness fell and Brienne found a clearing far enough off the path not to be spotted by any passing travelers. She tied you firmly to a tree, ignoring your protests, and started a fire in the middle of the clearing. 

“So, what, you’re just going to leave me tied up to this tree all night?” 

Firelight flickered across Brienne’s face, casting shadows along her fair features. She looked somehow even more beautiful now, you mused, your eyes drinking in the way her blonde hair fell onto her cheekbones, her lips parting ever so slightly as she contemplated, her icy blue eyes in stark contrast to the flames of the fire burning before her. 

“I can’t have you escaping,” though she sounded unsure of herself. 

“And pray tell, where will I go? Where shall I escape to?” You laughed, turning your head left to right as if to make a point. 

You could see the struggle in Brienne’s eyes. 

“At least to eat?” You were pleading now, pushing out your bottom lip ever so slightly, you weren’t playing fair but you didn’t care, the ropes were starting to make your ribs sore. 

“Fine,” Brienne stood, towering over you as she swiftly untied you. She offered you a hand, which you gladly took. The moment your skin touched hers, you felt butterflies do somersaults in your stomach. She pulled you to your feet and your hands remained entangled for just a moment longer as your gazes met. It was as if time were moving in slow motion. The air around you grew still. Your breathing slowed. The crackling of the fire grew muffled. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the blue of Brienne’s eyes and the heat rising in your core. You leaned forward, rising up onto your toes, head tilted back, anything to get closer to the gorgeous woman in front of you. 

She pulled her hand out from yours and broke your gaze. Even in the dim light, you could swear you saw a blush creep up her cheeks. 

“You should eat something. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Your head was swimming. You fell back onto your heels and watched Brienne walk to the other side of the fire. She tossed you a piece of bread, which you had to scramble to catch. 

“Y-yeah,” you mumbled. “Thanks…”

----

“Such a pretty little thing.”

There was a hand on your collarbone. Then on your breast. Where was your dress? Gods, this man reeks. Rough hands grabbed at you, laughing, “pretty little princess!” 

Then there was blood, so much blood. 

“My lady, are you alright?”

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the pitch black of the forest. Your throat felt dry and hoarse, your ears were ringing. Your chest heaved, sweat dripped from your brow. You felt a hand on your shoulder and suddenly, everything stopped spinning quite as fast. It wasn’t until your breathing had slowed again that you realized you were still in the middle of the clearing, that the embers of the fire that had warmed you in the evening had long burnt out, and that the hand on your shoulder belonged to Brienne of Tarth. Of course it did. The events of the previous day came back to you and you groaned. 

“My lady?” Brienne tried again. She sounded apprehensive. “Are you alright?”

“Just a nightmare,” you tried to wave it off, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. A single tear slid down your cheek. 

“About what happened today?” Brienne guessed. You worried your lip between your teeth, wondering if she would think you weak. Then you realized you were already crying in her arms and that it didn’t make much of a difference now anyway, so you nodded and dropped your head into the crook of her neck, allowing your tears to escape and drip onto the chest plate of her armor. 

Brienne stiffened at the contact, but allowed you to continue to sob into her shoulder until you finally pulled back. 

“You should get some more sleep,” she whispered, concern etched across her face. 

You nodded glumly. As Brienne made to stand, you caught her wrist. 

“Will you stay with me?” You whispered, barely audible. 

“I’m right over there,” she pointed to a spot a few feet away.

“I mean… here… so they don’t… come for me again,” your grip on her wrist tightened. “Please.” You closed your eyes, worried at the rejection you would see if you opened them. To your surprise, you felt Brienne kneel down next to you and get settled to your left, leaving mere inches between your bodies. Hesitating for a moment, you scooted closer across the forest floor and took her arm, wrapping it around your waist. 

With Brienne essentially spooning you, you quickly fell back into a dreamless slumber. 

Brienne was glad you couldn’t see the blush spread across her face and neck at the gesture of intimacy. She still didn’t know what to make of you. On the one hand, you had been nothing but kind, even a little flirtatious. On the other hand, no one had ever shown her this kindness before - every past flirtation had been with the intention of harming her, of playing with her feelings and making her feel bad. No one had ever shown her genuine interest. Why should you be any different? Come morning, she was sure, you would regret asking her to lay with you.

----

You awoke to find Brienne’s arm slung lazily over your waist, her breath warm on your neck. You smiled to yourself, greedily pulling her closer to you. Brienne stirred at the movement, her body stiffening as she realized the position the two of you found yourselves in. She shot up into a seated position and you grabbed after her, mewling pathetically at the loss of contact. 

Brienne looked down at you in surprise, confusion spreading across her features as you pouted up at her. 

“My lady?”

“You were warm,” you murmured, your voice still slow and heavy with sleep. “I felt safe.” Admitting it made you blush. Brienne looked away, her own cheeks as pink as yours.

“You look-“ you started, the compliment catching in your throat as Brienne’s eyes met yours once more. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Brienne’s eyebrow raised, waiting for you to continue. How could you convince this incredible, fierce warrior that she was absolutely brilliant whilst you were, well, you?

“Nevermind. Thanks for last night.” 

“It is my duty to get you safely back to King’s Landing.” Brienne was stoic, clearly trying to compose herself. 

“Sure,” you snorted, rising to your feet. 

There was a silent, mutual agreement that you didn’t need a rope from that day on, which you were grateful for as the pulling from the rope had left bruises along your arms and ribs. The silences were a little more comfortable that day, Brienne’s presence a little more familiar. At one point, your hand brushed against hers and, when she didn’t pull away immediately, your heart fluttered pleasantly.

Night came again and Brienne had found another spot nestled amongst the trees for you two to spend the night. You spent the evening sharing a log by a small fire, persuading Brienne to tell stories of her previous battles, your eyes shining with wonder as you imagined the grace and elegance with which Brienne fought. Something in your gaze spurred Brienne on, motivating her to keep talking in spite of herself.

It was only when your yawns came at 30 second intervals that Brienne suggested with a smirk that you turn in for the night.

You curled up close to the fire, watching Brienne curiously as she hovered over you for a moment, indecision written plainly on her face. She took a step towards you and knelt down next to you, looking uneasy.

You meanwhile, looked so blissfully unaware, eyelids heavy with sleep. You looked so carefree, Brienne thought, so unlike the storm that was raging inside of her, gnawing at her stomach, her heart… if you took it badly, her idea. But you hadn’t pushed her away that morning. You had even seemed disappointed that she’d pulled away. Brienne shook her head to clear her thoughts, blonde tendrils falling into her eyes.

“My lady, if it pleases you… I could, perhaps, protect you again tonight?” Brienne’s face was practiced stoicism, but you could see the anxiety slipping through the cracks.

A lazy smile passed across your face and you offered your hand to her. Her eyes widened at the gesture, eliciting a soft giggle from your lips.

“You look as if you expected me to say no.”

“My priority is to keep you safe on this journey, in whatever capacity you need me.” Brienne was being overly cautious, of what you weren’t quite sure.

“And here I was thinking you just wanted to cuddle me,” you teased, fake-pouting, adoring the way Brienne’s face turned beet red. 

You took her hand in yours and pulled her towards you. She allowed you to guide her downwards and into the same position as yesterday - protectively spooning you, one arm over your waist. She was slightly stiff behind you, but you knew she would warm up to your touch eventually, so you melted into her and allowed sleep to find you.

----

When dawn broke, Brienne’s face was nuzzled into the crook of your neck, her hand splayed across your stomach. You placed your own hand upon hers, marveling at how much longer her fingers were. Normally a light sleeper, she didn’t react to the touch. You craned your neck, admiring the sleeping woman beside you when your eyes fell upon the sword at her hip, and you got an idea.

Carefully, you extracted yourself from her loose hold and got to your feet. With nimble fingers, you pulled at the sword, nearly completely unsheathing it before -

“BY THE GODS,” Brienne yelped, her eyes shooting open as she scrambled to her feet. You sprung back in shock, her sword falling to the floor between you. “What on earth are you doing?” She reached for the sword at lightning speed, holding it between the two of you, and you feared that if you took another step it would be your hand she would cut off next.

“I’m sorry, Brienne! I-I was inspired,” you rushed out your apology, hands raised above your head in surrender as she glared furiously at you.

“Inspired to murder me?” Her eyebrows were knit together in confusion, her lip quivering.

“Brienne, of course not! I was wondering… could you teach me? How to use it?” Brienne was still skeptical. “I feel so safe with you. Really, I do.” At this, you had to blush a bit. “But I would love to be able to protect myself. And protect you. Not that you need it or anything.” Your blush spread, and Brienne’s gaze softened as she lowered her sword. 

“You do have a point. Go on then,” she handed you the sword and unsheathed her other one. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“R-right now?” You were a stammering mess.

Brienne rolled her eyes, taking up a sideways stance and raising her sword, gesturing for you to do the same.

You tried, though the sword was so heavy that it wobbled in your grip. 

“Have you ever even held a sword?” Brienne chuckled as your eyes widened and you shook your head furiously. 

She lowered her own sword and came around to stand behind you, placing one hand on your hip to correct your stance while her other hand wrapped around your sword-holding hand, helping you to get a better grip. You leaned into her until her front was flush against your back. She stilled, not daring to move an inch. 

“Like this?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“Yes.” Her breath ghosted the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. You could feel your heart hammering in your throat, almost sure that Brienne could hear its frantic beat. The morning air buzzed with an electricity that you were sure she must feel as well, you couldn’t be the only one. 

Brienne could feel it, of course she could. There was the heat rising in her cheeks as your bodies pressed against each other, the seemingly magnetic force that pulled her lips closer and closer to your cheek. She hadn’t felt like this before, not really anyway, not in any serious sort of way. Why weren’t you flinching away? Why were you pushing yourself further into her, as if you craved her touch? She swallowed hard, pushing down her own feelings, and took a step back, letting go of your hand. 

“Perfect.” She broke the silence, ignoring the muffled groan you released at the loss of her body heat. 

“Chin up.” You could tell Brienne was in her element and you were more than happy to oblige, lifting your chin, your eyes never leaving hers. 

“Your footwork is not to be underestimated, you need to be steady on your feet. Follow my lead,” Brienne began an elegant dance around you. Your eyes flicked to her feet, trying to mimic her graceful steps, quite sure that you were failing miserably. 

Brienne smiled encouragingly, “that’s it, step back.”

“Are you always this gentle with people you train?” You teased, grinning up at her fondly. 

The wind carried her melodic laugh to your ears, you were sure you had never heard a more beautiful sound. 

“I don’t usually train princesses,” Brienne’s smile was lighter than you had seen it the entire journey. Without warning, she lunged towards you, her sword stopping inches from your throat. Your breath hitched, pupils widening as you gazed along the length of the blade, which reflected the first light of the morning sun, straight into the bright blue pools of Brienne’s eyes. 

“Next lesson,” Brienne smirked. “Don’t get distracted.”

----

You couldn’t explain the unexpected weight in your chest as you approached King’s Landing. You knew Brienne would return to Catelyn Stark, and that you may never see her again. Your chest constricted at the thought, tears beginning to form.

“My lady?” Brienne noticed your steps slowing as you neared your destination. 

“Is everything alright?” Genuine concern marred her features. 

You swiped at a lone tear on your cheek, painting a false smile on your face. You couldn’t handle the rejection if you told her how you really felt. 

“Yes, absolutely,” you nodded vigorously, hoping not to seem too over the top. Brienne’s eyes swept once down your form, lingering for a moment on your lips. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, seemingly deciding against it and nodding curtly, escorting you the rest of the way, a tense silence shrouding the pair of you like a veil.

Your father granted Brienne quarters for the night as thanks for returning you safely back to King’s Landing. She accepted them graciously and you breathed a sigh of relief. One night. You had one more night. And damn you would make it count. 

But first, a visit to the baths was in order - god knows you needed a bath more than ever. You relished the feeling of steaming water all around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you allowed your head to fall back on the edge of the bath, a soft moan passing your lips in satisfaction. You imagined what it would be like to have Brienne next to you. To have her hands on you, her body pressed against yours, you wondered if her lips were as soft as they appeared, how she tasted… You reached a hand between your legs, nearing your throbbing core, fingers ghosting your sex...

“Oh, my lady, I’m sorry,” a familiar voice brought you out of your reverie. 

In your shock, you jumped to your feet, clumsily banging your head against the back of the tub. A sudden sense of cold made you realize you were standing in the middle of the bath, stark naked, facing the object of your affections. Your hands shot up self-consciously as you tried (and failed miserably) to cover yourself, a flush of embarrassment rising to your cheeks. 

Brienne mirrored your embarrassment, averting her eyes, her back stiff, rooted into place. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she mumbled, unable to keep her eyes from wandering towards where you were still standing, naked and trembling. 

“Not at all,” you finally managed to choke out. Her eyes did a double take and she took a step forward, gaze raking over your middle. 

“Brienne?”

“You’re hurt.” Her gaze was soft, her voice remorseful. 

“What? Oh.” Right. The bruises on your ribs from the rope. “It’s fine, I promise, they’ll go away soon enough.” 

Brienne didn’t seem convinced. “I’m so sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Please, Brienne, it’s Y/N”

Brienne hesitated. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll take my leave now, I can always use the baths later. I won’t disturb you any longer.”

Before you could protest, Brienne left you standing in the middle of the baths, shivering and alone.

Well that went well. Fuck. You groaned and sunk back down into the bath, squeezing your eyes shut and chastising yourself for being so awkward.

----

Standing in front of Brienne’s chambers for the night, you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You smoothed your gown for what felt like the hundredth time, wiping the sweat from your palms, and tucked your hair behind your ear.

You can do this. All you have to do is knock. It’s just Brienne. Maybe if you count to three… 3…2…

The door swung open. Brienne was already in her nightclothes, her armor discarded on a chair just behind her.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?” She asked, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Brienne, I’ve told you… it’s Y/N. May I come in?”

Still confused, Brienne stepped aside and gestured for you to join her in her quarters, shutting the door gently behind you. 

You walked straight through the room to the open balcony, desperate for some fresh air, Brienne trailing several steps behind you. The full moon cast a faint, silvery glow upon you, the night air was still and cool. A distinctly flowery scent wafted up from the gardens below, helping to calm your nerves. 

“So you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“I pledged my service to Catelyn Stark, I will be returning to her.”

“Oh. I mean, yes, of course you will.”

“Y/N?” Brienne’s voice was suddenly much closer than before.

You whirled around and she was inches away from you, eyeing you curiously.

“Brienne?” It was as if the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. A heat spread throughout your core, warming you from the inside. Brienne’s sapphire gaze kept you locked into place, your back pressed against the railing of the balcony. 

“Why did you come here?” She seemed apprehensive, shifting from one foot to another.

Why did you come here? Was it just to see Brienne again, to say goodbye? To thank her for getting you safely to King’s Landing? To absolutely ravish her as you had been craving since you had first laid eyes on her? Or was it to tell her that, somewhere in between being slung over her shoulder, tied to a tree, waking up in her arms and walking halfway across the country, you had fallen hopelessly in love with her?

It was then that you realized Brienne was still expecting an answer - she was trying to remain stoic, that much you could tell, but every second that you stood there, rooted at the spot, gaping at her without saying a word, made her more nervous. 

“If you’ve just come to stare at me, then I would much prefer it if you’d take your leave.” Brienne’s face was slowly turning red and she stepped aside, gesturing to the door. “I’ve had enough of that to last me an entire lifetime.”

“No, wait!” You grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer until her body was flush against yours. You had to tilt your head back to make eye contact with her, which brought a shiver of anticipation down your spine. 

“Brienne,” you were breathless, your voice barely above a whisper. “I apologize for staring, I’ve just never found anyone so beautiful before.”

“Beautiful,” Brienne scoffed, glaring down at you in true anger. “I have known many people to be cruel to me, to mock me, but I truly thought you were different.” Her gaze was hard, an old wound laid bare in her eyes, her lips quivering. She made to turn around but you were faster, hands shooting out to hold her hips in place. The physical touch surprised her and she stilled, a curiosity slowly joining the anger in her face. 

“Brienne, please . When I defended you against those men, that very first day, I meant it. When I look at you, I see strength and elegance, in the way you fight and wield your sword - you are the most impressive swordswoman I have ever seen. I see loyalty and kindness in the way you treat others. And, yes, Brienne, I see beauty.”

You reached up a hand to cup her cheek. It was warm to the touch, the porcelain skin tinted pink after listening to your compliments, smooth as glass. Your thumb traced over her cheekbone, then lightly grazed her lower lip. You met her gaze, hoping against all odds that she would believe you. 

“I have never been as captivated by another’s beauty as I am by yours.” You tucked a loose, golden curl behind Brienne’s ear, your fingertips lingering for a moment at the side of her jaw. Your gaze shifted down to her lips and you felt a wetness pool between your thighs as Brienne’s tongue darted out to moisten her own lips. 

“Y/N?” Brienne’s voice sounded so far away. Your ears were ringing again, the air around you thick. Your own breathing felt labored, shallow, a hot coil forming in your stomach. Before you knew what you were doing, before you could regret it, you flung your arms around Brienne’s neck and pulled her down to close the distance between you, lips crashing needily against hers. Only hers didn’t respond. 

Fuck. Pulling away, you gasped for air. “You didn’t want that. I’m so sorry,” you pushed Brienne aside, unable to look at her. If you had, you’d have seen the wonder in her expression. Instead, you rushed towards the door, apologies pouring out of your mouth.

“Wait.” Against your better judgment, you stopped in your tracks. “Did you actually want to kiss me?”

The question made you spin around so fast you were nearly dizzy. “Are you serious? I have wanted nothing more for the past week, Brienne.” 

The taller woman took three large strides across the room, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She stopped in front of you, her hands landing on your waist, and bowed her head down, catching your lips with hers. It was a softer kiss, much less sloppy, definitely reciprocated. You snaked your hands up into her silky hair, tugging slightly and eliciting a soft moan from the taller woman, whose fingers dug into your hips. Your tongue swiped at her lower lip, a silent plea for entry. After a moment’s consideration, Brienne’s lips parted, conceding your request and allowing your tongue to explore the contours of her mouth, to taste her for the very first time. 

It was only when you were gasping for air that you pulled away, leaning your forehead against Brienne’s, nuzzling your nose against hers. 

You became aware of an intense throbbing between your legs and you squeezed your thighs together, your hand sliding out of Brienne’s curls, landing on her collarbone and grazing over the exposed skin there. You noticed by the absence of warmth on your face that Brienne was suddenly holding her breath. 

“May I?” You played lightly with the string of her shirt, catching her eyes. Brienne nodded slowly, her gaze flitting between your eyes and your fingers on her shirt. You carefully undid her shirt, fingers beginning to slide it off her shoulders, brushing against the flushed skin, electricity pricking at your fingers. 

“I’ve never slept with anyone before.” Brienne’s voice was low and breathy, her face worried. With one hand, you held up her shirt, making sure to keep her covered, with the other you tilted her chin down to face you and made sure to meet her gaze. 

“We don’t have to do anything. Please tell me what you want to do, Brienne, I promise I won’t be upset.”

There was a beat, a moment where the world stood still. Brienne searched your eyes, her lips parting ever so slightly. Moonlight bathed the two of you in a soft glow, stopping time. 

“I want to.” It was barely above a whisper. Your grip on her undone shirt loosened, allowing it to fall away, exposing perfect breasts, nipples erect against the chill coming in from the open balcony. You placed open mouthed kisses to her collarbone, her chest, each breast, down her stomach, until you reached her trousers. You slid them down her long legs, then came up again to face her. 

“Help me with my dress?” You spun around, gathering your hair over your shoulder, allowing Brienne to unlace you with shaky fingers. The fabric streamed down your body, gathering at your feet. Your whole body vibrated with anticipation as Brienne’s hand stopped at your lower back. You turned to face her once more, taking her hands in your own and guiding her slowly backwards until the backs of her knees hit the bed. 

“Sit,” you commanded gently. Brienne was eager to do as she was told, scooting back onto the bed. 

“Can these go?” You motioned sweetly to her underwear, smiling as she nodded furiously and pulling them down her legs in one swift motion. You placed your hands on her knees and gently spread her legs. Her cunt was dripping, glistening. An obscene moan escaped your mouth. Your eyes met, Brienne’s pupils blown with desire. 

Quickly ridding yourself of your own undergarments, you straddled her lap, attaching your mouth to her breast and sucking, gently at first, then harder, wanting to leave a mark, to claim her as yours. Brienne gasped, her hand tangling in your hair, pushing your face farther into her breast, squirming underneath you. 

“Someone’s excited,” you moaned huskily, dropping your voice a few octaves, loving how Brienne whimpered as you moved your attention to her other breast. 

“That’s it. I want to hear you.” 

You moved your lips to hers, tongue begging for entry as your fingers kneaded her breasts, pinched her nipples. You swallowed Brienne’s moans as your hands worked their way lower and lower until finally reaching her center. 

“Are you sure?” Your fingers twitched, stopping just short of Brienne’s cunt. You needed the verbal confirmation from her. If it were possible, she looked even more gorgeous, bathed in moonlight, lips swollen from your kisses, hair mussed, beads of sweat forming at her brow. Your heart skipped a beat just looking at her.

Brienne was grappling with her own desire blooming within her. Sure, she had felt desire for another before. She had imagined what it would feel like to be pleasured, to have someone’s hands upon her. But what she imagined hadn’t come close to this. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Brienne confirmed, voice a few octaves lower than usual.

Your fingers ran the length of her folds, she was already dripping for you. You circled her clit once, keeping an eye on her face to see the reaction you would elicit. Brienne let out a guttural moan, hips twitching involuntarily, her face contorted with pleasure.

The aroma of her arousal hung heavy in the air, spurring you on. You felt your own arousal drip down your thighs, but that would have to wait - all that mattered right now was the goddess beneath you.

“This for me?” you gently dipped one finger into Brienne, enjoying how she whimpered for you. “You like that?”

You met Brienne’s eyes, wide with lust. She nodded, flushed chest rising and falling with her ragged breaths. You began dragging your finger in and out, slowly at first, then adding a second finger, eliciting a vulgar groan from your partner. You moaned in response, your fingers picking up the pace, thumb moving up to rub her clit. Her thighs began to shake and her hands gripped the furs on the bed, knuckles turning white. Your fingers worked faster and faster, curling into her soft spot, adoring the way Brienne’s mouth hung open, her eyes rolled back. 

She was close, you could tell by the way her thighs trembled and her pussy clenched tightly around your fingers.

“That’s it,” you cooed. Your thumb circled her clit, once, twice, three more times, helping her to ride out her first orgasm, whispering praise into her ear as she came onto your fingers. You pulled your digits out of her cunt and brought them to your lips. Brienne watched intently as you sucked your fingers clean, never breaking eye contact. Brienne tasted even better than you could have imagined and a carnal urge overtook you in that moment as heat pooled between your legs - you knew you weren’t done with her.

You sunk down onto your knees, gently hooking Brienne’s leg over your shoulder.

“Is this alright? Are you comfortable?”

Brienne smiled shyly. “Very.” She bit down on her lip, brow furrowing slightly. “Is there… Can I do something?”

You let out a low chuckle, your arm coming around her thigh to hold her steady. “Tonight is all about you.”

You placed light kisses along her inner thighs, biting and sucking at the supple skin, leaving little red marks for her to discover the next day, before finally flattening your tongue and licking her from her entrance to her clit. Brienne sucked in a breath, her hips rolling against your face, desperate to gain more friction. From below, you reached out and found her hands, guiding them to your head and giving her silent permission to tangle her fingers into your hair.

The sound of her moans filled the air as you sucked her throbbing clit, feeling Brienne come undone. 

“F-faster, please,” the words tumbled from her lips as her hips bucked wildly against your face. Your nails dug into her thighs, holding her in place as you flicked your tongue against her center. Her long, slender fingers pulled at your hair, the sensation causing you to groan into her cunt. You reached one hand down between your own legs to rub your own clit, unable to bear the throbbing of your pussy any longer.

Brienne’s legs shook, her hips ground erratically into your mouth as she reached her second high. All at once she teetered over the edge, arching her back and tipping her head back, vulgar moans dripping from her lips as she rode out her orgasm on your face. You reached your own climax moments later, cumming over your own fingers.

Brienne fell back onto the bed in a heap of exhaustion. She looked down to meet your gaze, chest heaving, a laugh bubbling up out of her. She sounded so carefree in that moment, you couldn’t help but laugh with her. She extended her arms to you and you crawled up the bed towards her.

Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you snuggled into her chest, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close. She looked up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, a shy smile playing upon her lips, then nuzzled her face into your neck and sighed in contentment. 

“Brienne?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Y/N?” her eyes shone up at you, her fingertips danced absentmindedly along your collarbone.

“When I asked you to teach me how to sword fight, I said I wanted to protect you. I don’t know if I can ever protect you physically, but I would like to make an oath right now, nonetheless. An oath that I will always protect your heart.” 

Brienne beamed at your words. “Do you swear it?”

“By the old gods and the new,” you replied solemnly. 

You didn’t know what the morning would bring. Brienne would eventually have to return to Catelyn Stark, you knew this. But for now, she was nestled safely in your arms. Until the dawn broke, there was nothing that could tear her away from you. And if this was to be your last night together, at least it would be one worth remembering. The thought brought a smile to your face as you drifted off to sleep, cradling Brienne in your arms.

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

cup runneth over

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/F

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Relationship: Cersei Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Additional Tags: #dubious consent, #rough sex, #lesbian sex, #grief/mourning, #using sex to self-harm, #gender feelings, #degradation, #humiliation, #wine, #i guess it sorta counts as food play, #dom/sub undertones, #insults, #vaginal fingering, #not much plot lol

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ ♡︎ ◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Since he’s been gone, Brienne hasn’t been herself.

Cersei looks so much like him. Brienne finds herself craving her presence, following her around like a lost puppy. Cersei taunts her, calls her a big, dumb cow. And perhaps she’s right — no person in her right mind would let anyone what Cersei does to her.

It began weeks ago — and it continues, with no end in sight. Tonight, it’s no different. 

“I know you would take anything I give you,” Cersei taunts her, her tone cold and mocking. Brienne averts her eyes. Her stomach fills with hot shame and her cheeks burn, but her heart beats fast in a twisted excitement. It’s sick and she knows it — and yet she keeps coming back for more. She craves the sick and twisted pleasure. It makes her feel alive in a way nothing else does.

Not since he’s been gone.

Cersei gazes down at Brienne as she pours the wine into her cup. She keeps pouring and pouring, and the cup is going to run over, Brienne can tell. The wine reaches the brim. Brienne opens her mouth, wanting to say something, but she doesn’t.

(Stupid, spineless cow. Can’t even speak.)

The wine spills over the glass and all over the table. Brienne watches, unable to move. It slowly trickles down the table and onto her legs. She glances down at her sticky, wine stained thighs.

“Drink,” Cersei commands. 

Brienne takes the cup and drinks. She never particularly cared for the taste of wine, nor did she ever find solace or fun in drinking. She wants to lower the cup after a few sips, but Cersei grabs it and holds it to Brienne’s face. She tilts it and holds it pressed to Brienne’s mouth. Sweet wine drips down Brienne’s chin, glides onto her neck, reaching her shirt, staining it. Only when she drinks it all does Cersei lower the cup back onto the table. 

“Do you want more?” Cersei asks. Brienne is silent. She is sticky and wet from the sweet wine, stained and humiliated, filled with hot shame — but somehow the shame is even sweeter than the red wine. 

She does want more.

to read more, please go on ao3, and please consider leaving me a little comment if you've liked it! here is the link -> ♡︎ cup runneth over ♡︎

[dianneking]

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.

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.

[llonelygoddess]

How they react to...Finding out you're pregnant

Romantic Pairings: Ned Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister, Khal Drogo, Jorah Mormont, Brienne of Tarth, Missandei, Podrick, Gendry

Ned Stark: This man is over the moon when you tell him you’re expecting. He’s raised 5 already but for you he’d raise another 5 if possible lol He’s always got his hands on your belly and asking if you need anything. His favorite thing to do is talking to the baby later at night when you’re asleep, whispering how much it’ll be loved and cared for by the both of you.

Margaery Tyrell: Thrilled. You two definitely planned this pregnancy so she’s thrilled to hear you’ve finally conceived. She’s keeping Maesters around the clock just for you and making sure you have regular check ups. You both love looking at all the fabrics and books and toys you’ll be gifting your baby. She wants this child to have everything she had and more, so beware your child may be spoiled rotten lol

Pre Reek!Theon Greyjoy: Theon doesn’t even know what to say. He’s nervous about what that would mean for you and the child title wise. Would the babe be labeled a bastard? Would you be treated as a whore? The questions will drive him crazy if you don’t bring him back down to earth. As much as he’s there for you, you have to be there for him during this time.

Jaime Lannister: In the beginning he’s more worried than anything. Knowing how crazy Cersei is he has to hide you away, promising to be with you soon. Once he finds a way to sneak away to you for good, he’s all hands on deck. He’d learn to cook a bit, take up the cleaning, even learn to stitch a little to give the baby an embroidered blanket. It’s not what you expected but considering his other kids barely know him it makes sense how serious he is about this one. He wants to get it right this time.

Khal Drogo: He sees you as his goddess, mesmerized with the way you carry his child. He kisses your belly and announces it to the whole Khalasar. During your pregnancy he doesn’t baby you, finding beauty in your strength, but he is wary of you being around the other men. They’re rough and callous and you are soft and breakable, something that keeps him up at night. Whenever he goes out riding he always comes back with a gift that he presents to you in front of everyone.

Jorah Mormont: He never thought he’d be lucky enough to have children, especially with someone as special as you. He’s definitely crying when he hears the news. He can’t help it, a family of his own is all he’s ever wanted. Even knowing how strong you are, he’ll ask you to stay home and to let him do any and all work that needs to be done. He’s heard horror stories of pregnancies going wrong and he refuses to let anything happen to you.

Brienne of Tarth: Finding out you're pregnant would be the scariest moment of her life. Which isn't to say she doesn't want kids, but the world you live in wasn't ready for a relationship like yours. Two non-men finding love within each other wasn't accepted, let alone them raising a child together. Eventually, through many talks with you and Podrick, she calms down enough to enjoy this special moment in time with you.

Missandei: When Missandei first finds out, she's immediately in preparation mode. With the life she's lived she knows how cruel and evil life can be, so she takes it upon herself to make everything as perfect for you and the babe as possible. She’s asking Danaerys for healers and compiling blankets and toys from nearby towns. You’ll want for nothing with her by your side. When she’s not in crisis mode she’s sitting with you in bed fantasizing about the languages and history she’ll teach the baby.

Podrick: He gets so overwhelmed when you tell him he faints. Poor bb. When he wakes he asks if it was a dream and when you tell him no he kisses you. He’s another one that never really thought about having a family but he’s more than ready and capable of doing it. He’s always gushing about you and the baby to Brienne or really anyone who’ll listen. Loves to put his ear to your belly and just listen.

Gendry: He never planned to have kids so young, but when you told him about the baby he realized this was his moment to step up and be better. Being a Lord now he’s able to take care of you in ways he never thought he could. Giving you a handmaid and guards is just the beginning of how he wants to support you. He worries all nine months about whether he'll be good enough for your babe, so please rub his back and tell him he'll be the best dad ever. And he will.

[rippersz]

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)

(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore. 

They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you. 

Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety. 

—

Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed. 

Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby. 

But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while... 

Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh. 

You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh. 

It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to. 

You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience? 

Thinking about it gave you a headache. 

For where was the point in wondering? 

You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because- 

Because-

Wait. 

Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of… 

“Fuck.” 

You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right. 

“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood. 

You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill. 

There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy. 

“Help! Help!”

Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell. 

A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength. 

“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet. 

In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.

“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.  

The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you. 

Too late. 

You were too late. 

And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead. 

Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage. 

 Too late. 

You were too late. 

You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed. 

But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you. 

Something–a sound–made you freeze. 

It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement. 

Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag. 

Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did. 

The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then- 

“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap. 

“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere. 

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.” 

“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle. 

“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life. 

“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.

“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.” 

“And the others?” 

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent. 

Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in. 

“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.” 

The gun still didn’t move. 

“They don’t ambush. What really happened?” 

Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away. 

But you didn’t. 

You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures. 

So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth. 

“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.” 

“How long since?” 

“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own. 

“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned. 

Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.

“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-” 

Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world. 

“-we can’t just leave them-” 

“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”

“-not stupid. We need more people-” 

Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window. 

“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone. 

With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.

“Woah-” 

“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?” 

The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told. 

“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade. 

But she didn’t move. 

It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak. 

“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed. 

Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went. 

“More like a rat.” 

And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.

You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you. 

“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot. 

With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest. 

You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked. 

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.” 

“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched. 

“You heard me. Shoot them.” 

“Pha-”

“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?” 

“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off. 

“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”

You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude. 

“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact. 

Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming. 

“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers. 

“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-” 

“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return. 

“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view. 

As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.

—

“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep. 

Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun. 

“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word. 

Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you. 

“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass. 

The grass. 

You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-

oh.

Oh. 

You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit. 

How fucking lucky were you? 

“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance. 

Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that. 

After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger. 

—

“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead. 

It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.

Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.

“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches. 

Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her. 

“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms. 

The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.

“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall. 

You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps. 

“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority. 

“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline. 

The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck. 

“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up. 

“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.” 

“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group. 

“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself. 

That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.

“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway. 

Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue. 

“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.” 

Lucifer? Naked under the what? 

You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and  crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were… 

“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?” 

“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?” 

“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.” 

“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.

“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”

“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.

“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.

“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?” 

Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.

Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body. 

“Okay. Yes. Sure.” 

“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider. 

“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors. 

You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you. 

“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes. 

Red lips twitched. 

“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.” 

“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.

“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder. 

“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.

You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up. 

“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.” 

You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat. 

“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully. 

You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right. 

Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat. 

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.” 

A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard. 

“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through. 

“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang. 

“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.” 

“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips. 

Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done. 

“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time? 

“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa. 

“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?” 

Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded. 

“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted. 

“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.” 

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath. 

“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.

“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it. 

And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you. 

Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence. 

“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.

“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.” 

She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.” 

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow. 

It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away. 

“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.

At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering. 

“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant. 

Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand. 

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.” 

It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts. 

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[fadingdaggerr]

beckon me back

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: brienne comes home to winterfell after a much too long assignment

warnings: fluff, brief soft smut, arya being a menace and a cockblock, reader is a northerner (but no house stated, just that they follow the old gods)

note: sorry i’ve been away. i’ve had a lot going on in my personal life and my mental health has been horrible. hope this makes up for the absence :) also title is from animal by troye sivan

sleeping alone should not be this difficult, truly. you’d spent years alone, sleeping and traveling alike. she changed everything the first night she accidentally fell asleep on your bed one night. you had grown all to used to the warm body that wrapped around yours in the late hours, the one that snuck into your room after everyone went to bed just so she could hold you.

the cold stone of the windowsill froze your arms and hands, skin now cool to the touch. every night for the last two months, you’d been sat in this very spot, watching and waiting for her return. you’d watched rain fall from the clouds, watched as more snow gathered on the yards of winterfell, watched until your eyes burned with sleep and arms froze with the northern air. any day now.

—

a harsh push against your shoulder wakes you, another makes you open your eyes with annoyance written on your face. when your eyes finally focus, arya stark is in your face, all dressed and ready.

“get up, sloth. time to break our fasts and train,” she says as she gets off the bed.

you groan as you rise from the mattress, “you’re the one who trains, stark. i just patch up your unsuspecting victims.”

a bearskin cloak is launched on top of you head, “get dressed and get down to the dining hall. my orders, as the sister of the lady of winterfell.”

“i hate you,” you grumble as tie your trousers and tuck in the linen top.

“next thing i throw at you will be a brick. five minutes,” arya responds with a laugh as she leaves your quarters.

you checked your appearance in the mirror, everything matched, brown bearskin, brown trousers, brown boots. the only thing different was the blue tunic with grey strings, a shirt from the wardrobe at the foot of the bed. her shirt. the thought made a smile cross your face.

the descent to the dining hall felt lonely, you’d grown used to the arm looped with yours, but at least you wouldn’t be lonely at the end. the hall was boisterous with laughter and the sound of dishes clacking. you made your way through, grabbing a plate and stabbing sausages from the large dishes, as well as fruit and a thick slice of bread. you move to sit next to arya, who slides across fruit spread for you.

you half-listen to arya talk to the others at the table, training and whatever else they liked to discuss most of the day. you poked at the apple and pear slices on your plate, hardly interested in anything at all it seemed. your thoughts were broken by the horns blowing, and a call of ‘riders incoming!’

before anyone can say anything to you, you’re bolting out of the dining hall. the stone under your boots becomes snow as you head towards the gates as fast as lightning. by the time you reach the gates, they’re hardly open, but you can hear the horses whinnying from the other side. the guards laugh lightly watching you bounced on the balls on your feet waiting for her to step through the gates, to finally be home with you. the gates fully open and you’re nearly vibrating with excitement.

a black mare walked through the gates, a brown mare behind. the knight atop the first looked around as she entered the gates, blue eyes scanning each face until they find yours. she’s quick to dismount the mare, stroking her mane in thanks, before passing the lead off to a stableboy. the second her hands are free, you run towards her.

you collide into her chest with a hard thunk and a hard exhale from her lungs. her arms hold you tightly as your face moves to take residence in her neck, arms linked around her neck. she takes the opportunity to lift you off the ground slightly, walking you away from the gates and out of the way of the horses.

“i missed you,” you mumble into her skin as she sets your feet back on the ground, but you don’t let go from your hold.

“i missed you more,” she says in return, with a soft kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek. “come with me to greet lady sansa? i’m sure she’ll let me have the day to settle in once i’ve given report.”

all you want is to have her all to yourself, but what the lady of winterfell says, goes. you walk with brienne, arm-in-arm, happy, no longer lonely. you stand off to the side as sansa welcomes brienne home, a gentle hug shared between two friends. podrick comes to stand next to you, and you link your arms and rest your head on his shoulder while he speaks to only you.

“she’ll try to hide it, but she’s got a pretty large scrape down her side from a fall,” you grip his arm tighter as a question, “we got ambushed by a small group of raiders. thought they could overpower us, only win of the night for them was pushing her into a fallen tree.”

“what was their fate?” you ask, anger towards the men evident in your tone.

“cut down shortly after she got back up.”

“good,” you say with a bitter smile, your eyes glued to brienne as she spoke to sansa.

brienne bows and turns away from sansa, making her away over to you and pod. you untangle your arm from your friend’s, only to have brienne’s arm wrap around your waist underneath your cloak. her fingers play with the material of the shirt you’re wearing, a smile stretches across her face.

—

the large oak door shuts behind you. immediately you’re pressed against it with brienne’s lips moving against yours with a hurry. her hands firm on your hips, yours on the back on her neck, fingers tangled in her short hair. you push yourself off the wall, backing brienne towards the bed. the back of her knees hit the bed, causing her body to fall onto the bed and take you with her. your hands find the bottom of her tunic, pulling it up until you reveal the entirety of her abdomen.

“darling, wait-” she rushes to pull her top down.

“pod didn’t say they were this bad…” your fingers hovered over the injury, not wanting to put more pressure on the reddening skin.

“it’s not, i swear. it’s healing that’s why it looks- you already know that,” she says with a huff.

“i do,” you say through a laugh, “just like i know you would’ve tried to hide this as long as possible.” you get off the bed, with only a groan from brienne in refusal. grabbing your kit, you find a salve and bandages to coat her cuts. you rounded the bed and manhandled brienne until she was sat up to make it easier to check her wounds.

her skin is so soft, it should be a crime in itself to hurt someone so beautiful, you think to yourself. you pull her tunic off of her, exposing her chest and abdomen to you. fingers trace the collection of freckles across her skin, the scars from years of battle, following her story before tending to her. you lightly apply the salve with barely-there pressure. your focus stays on her skin, not noticing how brienne is in an awe of her own just looking at you.

soft eyes watching how gentle you are with her, not once did she think it possible that she would be so adored. the excited way you had taken her arm, how you kissed the bandages you placed on her. and don’t get her started on the sheer joy she felt when she saw you waiting for her, especially after sansa had said all you do is wait for her when she’s away.

as you pulled away from her abdomen, her hands rose to hold you face. you nearly melted at that peaceful gaze in her eyes, the rosiness that painted her cheeks from your affections. your head moved forewords, pressing your lips to her forehead, between her eyes, the top of her nose, until you pressed your lips to hers, soft and sweet.

“all done,” another kiss, “nothing strenuous for a week,” another, “one. week. do you hear me brienne?”

she smiles, knowing she’s guilty of not listening and causing herself more pain, “whatever shall i do then for a whole week, sweet healer of mine?”

“i have a couple ideas,” you say as you lean into her, watching as she licks her lips in anticipation.

“really?” she says thickly. “and what are they?”

you move to speak directly into her ear, your lips just barely grazing the shell as you whisper, “rest and read a book.”

brienne grabs you and twists so that you’re underneath her, splayed across the mattress. your arms immediately fling to her neck, laughing loudly at the action. she presses a long, sound kiss to your lips, nudging your nose with hers as she pulls away.

“i love you,” you say, breathless from laughter and her lips. one hand moves to her hair, the other traces shapes along her bare back.

“i love you,” her face hides in your neck. she presses soft pecks along your neck where her lips can reach.

you continue your ministrations as you speak, “never leave me for that long again. two months without you was torture.”

brienne laughs lightly, “it felt the same for me, my love. but i had to remind myself, quite often, that it was my duty and that running off to you would only cost of more than we’d gain.”

“aye, my name’s brienne of tarth and i like honor more than a rather skilled tongue on m-” you’re stopped by a hand over your lips, brienne’s face never leaving your neck.

“didn’t you say i had to rest?” she says, face warming already.

“i didn’t say i had to,” you say as your arms wrap around her shoulder, a leg around her hips. “you could just,” you twist and switch your positions, now straddling her hips with her eyes staring up at you, “lay back.”

your lips crash to hers, but waste no time to start nipping at her neck and licking over her skin. when your mouth finds her breasts, you feel her hands grip at your back. a swirl of your tongue makes nails dig into your skin through your shirt, a suck of her skin makes a groan rise from her throat. your hands ignore the expanse of her stomach, not wanting to touch her still sensitive wounds.

your lips find sanctuary with hers as your free hand unties her pants. her teeth nip and pull at your lips, making you moan into her mouth. i love you’s said with every kiss, bite, touch. you hand moves into her pants, not bothering to remove them, needing to feel her. she’s so warm, so wet, for you. your fingers trace along her folds, gathering her arousal before bringing your hand to your mouth. your eyes roll back with a moan at the taste of her, and brienne swears she sees every god at the sight of you.

finding yourself back between her legs, your middle finger enters her slowly as you watch her face. another enters after a few pumps, making brienne moan deeply. her hands force your lips down to hers, to which go gladly accept. everything about her is perfect to you, and for something as perfect as her to be missing from you, it was painful. but not as painful as the hard knocking on your door was at this second.

“WE NEED A HEALER OUT HERE!” arya screamed through the door.

your hand slowly pulled away from brienne as you groaned loudly before telling back, “BREAK MY DOOR AND I’LL KICK YOUR ASS, GIRL!”

“FIVE MINUTES!” she replies before you hear her footsteps disappear.

“go,” brienne says through a laugh, “before she injures more people, especially you.”

you kiss her gently before rising, “i’m sorry. i’ll be quick as a fox, i promise.”

she catches your hand before bringing to her lips, “quick as a fox.”

—

wrapping a bandage around rickon’s arm, you speak to arya, “you could’ve gotten literally anyone else to do this.”

she shakes her head, “rickon doesn’t like anyone else.”

you look at rickon with a smile, “that true, little lord? i’m your favorite?”

his curly hair bounces as he nods, “yeah. especially because you’re married to a knight.”

you feel your cheek warm as you laugh at his comment, “we’re not married, sweet lord,” you tie the bandage so it stays secure, “i’m not sure the gods would allow us. but we love each other regardless, i assure you.”

you rise from your crouch in front of rickon before scanning around for others who may need you. seeing none, you shove the medicine kit into arya’s arms.

“if anyone needs help, use some common sense. i’m going back to my quarters and barring the door. bother us again before the sun rises tomorrow, and i’ll drop you down a well. good evening, m’lady, m’lord.”

—

sun shining through the window hits your eyes, waking you from a deep and peaceful slumber. knuckles dug into your eyes as you rubbed them harshly, desperate to get rid of the brightness. you blinked a few times before looking at your stomach, finally processing the weight on top of you.

a quietly sleeping brienne, head resting on your lower abdomen, one hand flailed off to the side as the other held your thigh. you smile at the view, you had missed waking up like this. with her.

after allowing yourself to admire her for a while, you brushed your fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp as a means to gently wake her. her only sign of waking is a loud exhale and a soft kiss to your skin.

“the sun is rising, we must join it, lovely,” you say with a yawn. brienne’s head rises, lowering for a moment to kiss lower than she had before, then climbing up and taking purchase in your neck.

your hands push her head back so you can look at her. sleepy blue eyes looking back, adoration swimming in pools of sodalite. she drops her head to kiss you, lips lazy and soft. when she shifts her thigh between yours, you pull back.

“brienne…” she kisses you softly, then let’s you speak again, “we should be getting ready.” this time you seal your sentence with a kiss to her lips.

“i know, but you’re comfortable. i quite missed my personal pillow,” she says with a smile, one that has your heart stuttering.

you laugh at her words, “and i missed my personal blanket, but we still must rise,” her huffed breath makes you laugh more, “usually the roles are reversed here. don’t you want to break your fast and enjoy your day? surely you don’t want to lay here all day.”

“i’d be fine laying here all day with you,” her words make your heart ache, “but you won’t let that happen, will you?”

her eyes and voice were swaying you, the little patterns her fingers traces were silently begging you to stay. you sigh and answer with, “if the lady sansa gives us leave for the day, i will gladly stay here with you until the sun rises on the morrow,” she smiles, “but you must eat, you haven’t since you returned.”

“yes, i have. you don’t recall?”

you burst with laughter, “not what i meant and you know it, absolute menace.”

you’re lost in your own mind staring at brienne as she catches up with friends around the room. a pea flies across the table and pelts against your cheek, you look up to see arya. she slides down to you, holding her cup to her face to hide her mouth as she spoke.

“did she even give you a break? you looked like she gave you purpose with her hands,” she jests.

“good morning to you too, lady arya. it is a lovely morning, i agree,” you say with sarcasm dripping in your voice.

“so she really did you in, i see. but seriously, you seem happier with her around. i’m happy for you,” she says before getting an orange seed to the face.

“you’re so weird,” you knocked her shoulder, “but you’re right, she makes me happy,” you smile as you watch brienne laughs loudly. her gaze lands on yours, eyes crinkling with her big smile.

i love you, your eyes scream to her.

i love you, hers yell back.

again sorry for being ia. i’ll work on being a bit more active :) as usual, feedback is appreciated love u big time <3

[musing-and-music]

The name was a knife, twisting in her belly

Summary: Brienne grows up in Tarth with the pain that Jaime Lannister's name inflicts her each time she hears it. She grows up hating her soulmate for his actions and for the pain she feels because of him.

In the dungeons of Riverrun, she finally meets him, and lady Catelyn charges them both with a quest that will change her pain into something different.

Rating T | 1,9k words | Chapter 1/? | Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, POV Brienne of Tarth, Canon-Typical Violence, Tywin Lannister A+ Parenting, This story doesn't really care about the general plot of ASOIAF, Implied Future Sansan, Implied Future Gendrya | Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Someone posted this on Insta ( can’t remember 😭) but this is so me 😭😂

Oh my, that’s too perfect 🤣🤭💞!! I couldn’t resist not imagening and then writing this… HAPPY PRIDE BTW 🏳️‍🌈

‘I love MILFS’ shirt… Drabble ~Gwen’s characters xFem!Reader

Gwendoline Christie’s characters reactions to Fem!Reader wearing the “I ♥️ MILFS” shirt… I did Larissa, Lucifer, Miranda, & Brienne for this one 😉

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, kissing, implied smut

Enjoy (;

Larissa Weems

It’s finally a peaceful Saturday, for just you and Larissa, your mini Larissa had been graciously taken by Marilyn for the day.

You wake up before the blonde, allowing her to sleep in.

You impromptu decide to make her breakfast in bed.

And you giddily snag the shirt from your closet as a little ✨extra✨ surprise…

But your plan falls flat, as Larissa heard you rustling in the closet.

She walks into the kitchen, nearly scaring you half to death.

“Well this is a nice surprise, darling…” Larissa husks in her early morning voice.

You haven’t turned around for her to see your shirt yet…

You finally dramatically sigh and turn around.

“Well I was planning to give you breakfast in bed…” you dramatically huffed.

But Larissa doesn’t respond.

Her eyes are glued to your shirt.

“Something the matter, baby?” You say with a smirk.

Larissa chuckled and rolls her eyes at your antics, then walking over to you, without a single word, and she scoops you up.

“I think I will indeed be having breakfast in bed…” she husks in your ear.

Her lips connect to yours passionately, and you hum with delight into the kiss.

She carries you to her bedroom, where the two of you spend your whole day off.

Lucifer Morningstar

You had found the shirt on one of your trips to earth.

It had made you smirk, and you were curious as to what Luci would have to say about it…

So naturally, you took it back with you.

You entered Luci’s great throne room, wearing the shirt.

“Hey Luci, I’m back…” you hummed towards the blonde, who was standing by the window, dazing out into their domain.

The Lightbringer doesn’t look back when they recognize your presence with a hum.

“I brought something back this time…” you probe the blonde fallen angels curiosity.

At this, the Lightbringer turned their gaze toward you, and their brows furrow.

“And what is that…? It doesn’t suit you very well, does it, little one…”

“It’s a shirt.” You smugly say.

Luci rolls their eyes playfully at your humor.

“No I mean, what is a milf…?” They clarify.

She’d fallen right into your trap…

“It’s you!” You chirped, your eyes glimmering coyly.

“Hmmm ok…” Luci stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, contemplating whether to open this can of worms.

They decided not to.

“I will see you at dinner, little one?” She redirected.

“Yep.” You chirped yet again.

You were being far too chipper for Lucifer’s taste…

At that, you left.

And Mazikeen soon entered the throne room, stifling a giggle.

“And what, pray you, is so humorous?” The Lightbringer sneered.

“Nothing master. Only Y/N’s shirt…” Mazikeen mumbled.

At this, Luci’s senses pricked up and their head swiveled to the demon.

“What about the shirt?!” They demanded.

“I just never imagined that you’d allow her to wear something like that…” Mazikeen spoke.

Now Lucifer was really confused.

“Something like what??!”

“MILF… Master, do you know what that stands for…?”

“No…” they grumbled.

“Ohhhh…” Mazikeen whimpered.

“It stands for Mother I’d Love to Fuck…”

Luci’s eyes widened, their jaw dropping.

Oh, you were so fucked…

Miranda Hilmarson

You’d put on the shirt at night as you prepared for bed.

As you grabbed your nightly tea, Miranda walked into the kitchen.

Once her eyes set on your shirt, She immediately looked away and blushed furiously.

“Like what you see…?” You teased, taking a sip of your hot tea.

Miranda gulped and finally looked up, meeting your gaze.

“I’m not a milf…” she insecurely whispered.

Your heart cracked at her tone of insecurity…

You set your tea down and made your way over to the blonde, opening you arms to her.

She gladly accepted, immediately nuzzling into your frame.

Once you’d hugged her for a good solid five minutes, you pulled your face out to meet hers.

“Well I’d love to fuck you anyday…” you purred.

At your words, Miranda blushed even more, a small tear escaping her eyes.

“Thanks, babe…” she whispered with a cracked voice.

“And you certainly will be a MILF once I fuck my cum so deep into you, we defy the laws of the universe, and your belly starts to swell with my baby…”

At this, Miranda’s jaw dropped.

“Would you like that…?” You teased the stunned blonde.

All Miranda could do was nod, vigorously, her eyes lighting up at the possibility…

Brienne of Tarth

Brienne had immediately noticed your shirt when the party had set off at daybreak.

It was a long journey ahead, and it was itching her to ask you what your shirt meant.

“Y/N…” Brienne spoke in her gentler tone.

“Hmmm, yes my lady…?”

Brienne always caught a slight blush when you of all people called her my lady…

“I was wondering, what does that word on your chest mean?”

“Oh, OhHhhH…” you chocked out, almost embarrassed to have to explain this to the woman you’d been crushing on ever since you’d crossed paths with her.

“Are you alright, Y/N…?” Brienne asked, her tone laced with immediate concern.

“Yes yes! I’m fine, thank you.” You took a deep breath.

“It means Mother I’d Like to Fuck…” you basically whispered.

It took Brienne a second, but one was she got it, she got it.

Brienne mouthed a knowing Ohhhhhh as her eyes widened.

Your smiled lightly and then quickly looked away again.

God, were you hopelessly in love with the innocent, blonde haired woman…

~~~

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

Miranda Hilmarson Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Brienne of Tarth Masterlist ~Coming Soon (:

[drrav3nb]

Marriage by Combat

Picking up a single-bladed spear from the array of weapons, the Prince twirled the staff in hands and approached the centre of the coliseum. “I once heard a rumour that you would only accept an offer of marriage if the man asking could defeat you in combat,” he said before tucking the spear under his arm and bowing deeply. “Allow me to put that challenge to the test.” Brienne could not stop herself from grinning, his provocation reminding her of an oath that she once made to herself so many years ago. “You have no armour on, sire.” “Neither do you.” Synopsis: Ever since she was a young girl, Brienne had made it very clear to many of her potential suitors that she would never accept their offer of marriage unless they could defeat her in battle. So what happens when the Prince of Dorne takes her up on that challenge?

Read the fic here

[b-does-the-write-thing]

general incivility, chapter six

- a brienne x jaime pride & prejudice retelling -

chapter one l chapter two  l chapter three l chapter four l chapter five l chapter six l now on AO3

At the end of their first month in the Stormlands, a letter appeared from King’s Landing. Bronn, no doubt curious, brought it to the breakfast table, where he might be able to linger and ascertain its contents. A savvy move that Tyrion could applaud if it were not for the fact Cersei and Jaime could not help but notice the royal seal.

At its appearance, Cersei fell uncharacteristically silent. Though at the rate she was straining her neck, she’d be out of commission for the upcoming week’s assemblies. His dear brother pretended he had gone blind, deaf, and dumb, but Jaime was not leaving either, showcasing his interest in the missive. Tyrion would have preferred to retire to read it in peace; he already guessed at its contents, but there was nothing to be done other than to face the music. Cracking the seal, Tyrion’s suspicions were confirmed within the first few words, and the following ones compounded his headache.

Outside, the evening clouds had not departed, and the trees were whispering to each other in the breeze. A storm was imminent, not one of the gentle spring rains that had come and gone in their few weeks here, but a proper tempest, the true namesake of the region. Judging the entire thing to be more trouble than it was worth, Tyrion tossed the letter away. It landed on top of the porridge and, under the weight of the royal seal, began to sink. Cersei shot her cousin a filthy look before ordering one of the footmen to fish it out for her. Receiving it with the utmost care, Cersei devoured the soggy paper’s contents. A smile bloomed across her face until her smile was the only bright spot in the breakfast parlor.

When Cersei finally deigned to lower the letter, a footman rushed forward to offer her a serviette. “But this is wonderful,” Cersei said, seemingly unaware she was daintily wiping her hands on the footman’s jacket and not the offered napkin. To think, the king—here of all places!”

Jaime stirred to life. “What fortuitous reason do we have to thank for such an honor?”

Tyrion rubbed his forehead, running his stubby fingers across the odd ridges of his skull, letting the familiar sensation soothe his threatening headache. “He claims to visit Lord Stannis, but no doubt he has heard father’s succeeded in running me off finally.”

Jaime did not argue. Everyone knew there was little love lost between King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, and Tywin Lannister. The vaults of King’s Landing were rumored to have long since run dry, but perhaps with a son of Casterly Rock at his side…

Cersei stood, pressing her skirt down, her eyes staring past both her cousins, fixated on something far in the distance that only she could see. “I’ll have to send word home at once. I barely brought anything suitable for court-”

“Were you not still planning to depart within the next fortnight?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Cersei snapped, this time directing her glare at Jaime. “The King is coming to Storm’s End, and he will, of course, call here.” Her eyes darted to Tyrion. “You’ll need a lady to lead the house, plan the ball-”

“Ball?”

“Host His Highness, and well he mentions his Kingsguard will be attending. No mention of any courtiers, but of course, the usual toadies will be in attendance- “

“Cersei, if you would like to play lady of the hall, by all means, my home is at your disposal, but do me the very great courtesy of not looking like the cat who caught the canary. It’s very disconcerting.”

“Only you would have the king send him a personal letter and look as if the world was coming to an end.” Tyrion did not think his brother looked any happier about this development, but Cersei seemed determined to ignore Jaime. “If you will excuse me-” and with that, she swanned out of the breakfast parlor, looking all the world as if she already had a crown upon her brow.

“She’ll be insufferable,” Tyrion lamented. “Robert’s no tactician, but he’s not going to ignore a lioness laying down on her back for him-”

“Tyrion,” Jaime hissed. “Have a care for how you talk about our cousin.”

“You should be glad she’s not eyeing your neck for the noose at the moment,” Tyrion continued, tearing into the pastry to find it still warm and steaming. The manor might be considerably smaller than the Rock, but he quite enjoyed the new proximity to his kitchens, even if his belt protested. “Perhaps Robert's visit will allow you more time to pursue your interests without hindrance?”

Jaime’s eyes darkened in displeasure. “There is nothing of interest in this desolate corner of Westeros. I am only here because of you.”

“Interesting,” Tyrion continued, “I, for one, have thought you rather intrigued by our resident beauty.”

Tyrion had not seen it at first. He had been so taken with the odd Miss Tarth, finding her to be one of the truly most unfortunate people he had ever seen besides himself, that he had almost missed the way his brother’s eyes tracked her around the room, how Jaime moved after her when she passed by as if caught in her wake and drawn after her despite himself. He was not sure if his brother was even aware of his interest, if not for the odd way his lips quirked whenever Miss Tarth was mentioned.

“You are referring to which renowned Stormland beauty, Tyrion? Miss Tarth or Miss Baratheon?”

Tyrion chuckled. “Cersei has had your ear again, I fear. Miss Baratheon is not yet eight and ten. Her brush with death has added to her character, but I am not one for unaged wine.”

Jaime considered him across the table. ”And Miss Tarth?”

Tyrion grinned. “You know I am a great lover of beauty.”

His brother’s lips thinned, face darkening into a pensive glower until he looked just like their father. “Surely you of all people would think to look past appearances-”

“Have you?”

Jaime’s eyes shuttered, and he looked pointedly away to the storm gathering outside. “I have barely spoken a word to the party in question.”

“On the contrary, I believe you’ve spoken more to her than anyone else in the Stormlands.”

“If I happen to stand by the only other person who has less desire to speak than myself-”

“Happen? Jaime, you followed her around the length of the ballroom last week.”

Jaime shot up from his seat. “I should make haste if I want to get a ride in before the storm-”

“Jaime-” But his brother was already gone, leaving him alone with the great feast. Tyrion looked over at the footman nearest to the table, his cravat still smeared with oatmeal. “Do we have any blackberry jam?”