#and that would’ve led to complications of his own

[padfootastic]

Thinking of the secret keeper plan, and honestly, had Peter remained loyal, it would’ve been a good plan. Sirius being captured wouldn’t put the Potters in active danger, on account of him not being able to share the location since he wasn’t the Secret Keeper, and him being captured would tell everyone “Hey, Voldemort is close to zeroing in on the Potters, better make sure Peter is safe since he’s the only one who has the information Voldemort wants,” so he’d be able to buy his loved ones time to start preparing, as opposed to him being captured as the Secret Keeper and maybe breaking before anyone knows he’s missing. Besides, he’d probably be good at Occlumency, I feel like the Blacks would’ve taught their kids since Bellatrix is good enough to teach Draco later so Sirius probably knew too, so Voldemort wouldn’t be able to just pry the switch out of his head, and the information has to be willingly given, so Voldemort couldn’t just yank it out of Sirius’s mind. Of course, this all hinged on Peter being loyal, but he’d already betrayed them at least a year prior, so had anyone else been used, it would’ve been a good plan.

duuuuuude i have so many thoughts about this!!!

the entire plan gets touted around as stupid and idiotic and reckless and yeah ok i can see why people say that but i genuinely think it had the potential to work as well? like, literally no one would’ve suspected peter. he didn’t even need to be outwardly brave. if all eyes r on sirius, he can live his life in the background as he’s used to and no one would bat an eyelid. of course, i can’t see it being a long term solution bc things would come to a head at some point, esp if sirius gets captured/killed but peter would still not be on anyone’s list of candidates. i can’t help but think they could’ve also spread rumours that dumbledore was their keeper? 🤔 like, he offered, and presumably there’s no way for an outside to check who the SK is, yeah? so what they were doing with sirius, they could’ve done with dumbledore and that would’ve been it.

but now that i’m thinking about it, this entire plot line just has to many possibilities/tangents and so many holes??? for one, there’s the question we all have: why couldn’t james or lily have been the keeper?

also, i wonder: can u create a chain of secret keepers? like, peter is the SK for the potters, remus is the SK for peter, sirius for remus, and so on and so forth—basically burying the original secret keeper under a long list of false leads, ykno? idk there’s just so much to think about.

#sirius black #peter pettigrew #at the same time tho—if anyone other than peter was used for a switch #we would’ve probably ratter it out to voldy as well yeah? #ratted* #i’m assuming the potters share the news since they have no reason to doubt at that point #and that would’ve led to complications of his own #i also wonder how mind magics work in this whole scenario #can u pick the secret up w occlumency? #if they’d given each other unbrekable vows—how would that have changed things? #god anon you’ve sent me into not one but multiple rabbit holes here lol #thanks for that #if ur still around—i’d love to know what u think #pen’s asks

[leclerc-hs]

ex's and oh's - CL16

pairing: ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend are in complicated territory OR your ex fucks you in the drivers seat of his car warnings: 18+, SMUT under the cut, badly translated french (pls correct me), not proofread!!!! word count: 2.4k author's note: ok I just want to sincerely apologize for my long absence on here!!! i know you’ve been waiting for me to finish this for a while now LOL but I've been insanely busy balancing life with two jobs lol. So I'm going to leave this here. I can honestly say it's not my best work and I apologize for that but I really wanted to give y'all something in the mean time. I have a bunch of drafts I plan to work on whenever I get the chance. Love you all!! pls forgive me and don't forget to leave me some comments and thoughts xoxo

THERE WAS NOTHING that could’ve prepared you for this fight. You weren’t drunk, as promised. Although you weren’t sober either. 

You and Charles were...complicated. Exes but…. still, something more. You would always be something more. Your history stretched back almost forever, and that alone made it challenging to stay apart from each other.

There was a point in time when the aftermath of your breakup made it impossible for both of you to share the same space. It invariably led to bitter arguments over seemingly trivial matters. One such instance was during a movie night with your group of friends when you showed up in a sweatshirt that was far too big for your body, obvious that it wasn’t your own. Charles simmered with silent resentment in the corner until he could no longer contain it. The memory etched vividly in your mind, recalling the knots in your stomach throughout the night, feeling the intense burn of Charles’ gaze upon you. He didn’t cast a single glance at the movie that evening.

“Who’s fucking sweatshirt is that?”

“Already fucking other people, hm?”

As you slid into the familiar supple leather seats of his Ferrari, you felt the warmth of the car hug you like a blanket, providing much relief from the contrast of the cold air outside. In the process of slipping into his car, your skirt had ridden up higher than Charles would’ve preferred, your panties nearly exposed if it weren’t for the sheer tights providing more coverage. Did you really go out dressed like that? He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter than normal as a waft of your perfume enveloped the car. 

“Did you have fun?” His tone was neutral, but his body posture was tense. He barely turned his head to check if you placed your seat belt on before peeling out from the curb at a speed much too fast.

Sober you would’ve caught onto his attitude almost immediately. But tipsy you, thought nothing of it. 

“Oh Charlie!” You exasperated, the click of your seatbelt filling the car as the radio was turned on the lowest possible volume. “It was so fun!” 

He dropped one of his hands from the wheel, bringing his hand to rub the scruff of his unshaven jaw, as a deep sigh falls past his lips. He was annoyed—more than annoyed. The sole fact that you left him unanswered for hours wasn’t his only issue. What had his muscles all tight and the permanent frown on his face was the images of one of your guy friends being way too close to you. Too close for Charles liking. It was the same guy that his friends had briefly mentioned weeks ago on his boat. 

“Cha, l’aimes-tu toujours?”  Do you still love her? His friends sat around the table; half-eaten food left on their plates. He didn’t answer the question immediately. But everyone knew, subconsciously, that he did.

“Elle et Nick été proches récemment,” Her and Nick have been close lately. The phrase alone made Charles choke on his water. In that moment, he thanked the lord for the sunglasses covering his widened eyes. The burn in his chest began simmering as the conversation continued.

“Oui, ne sont-ils pas partis ensemble l’autre soir?” Yeah, didn’t they leave together the other night?

He couldn’t blame his friends for the discussion. They didn’t know that you two were still in complicated territory. Everyone always figured you two would rekindle, but it’s been so long, no one knew if it would happen anymore.

So, although Charles felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he plastered a big smile on his face while throwing his arm around the back of the chair beside him. “Nick, hm?”

He made a genuine effort to control his anger. Honestly, he really did try. However, as you persisted in discussing the night, particularly when the name ‘Nick’ slipped past your lips, he couldn’t help but lose his composure just a little bit.

His voice took on a lethal edge as he maneuvered the car to the side of the desolate road. The act of driving demanded attention, but his mind was a whirlwind of a million thoughts. He was consumed by anger, it oozed from every pore of his skin as he scoffed and turned to confront you. Your eyes were already fixated on him, and his gaze instantly met yours.

“A-t-il touché à toi?” Did he touch you? His voice rumbled like a low growl, and the green in his eyes was so deep and intense that it masked their actual color, making it nearly impossible to discern the green hue. But you memorized those eyes. His eyes. You were familiar with every nuance of shade that adorned them. His breath was slow and even as he awaited your answer.

The idea drove him insane—the notion of another man laying his hands on you. And even worse, you wanting another man’s hands on you.

For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, only to fully comprehend his tense posture and the sharpness in his tone. Suppressing any inclination to react visibly, you wrestled to maintain a neutral expression, ensuring your lips didn’t betray a hint of a smirk at his jealousy. You didn’t even need to ask who he was. 

“Et est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance s’il l’avait fait?” And would it matter if he did?

The fact that you didn’t need to even address who he was talking about, only caused him to spiral further. As if you were confirming that Nick is the only other option. 

The car felt increasingly smaller as the anger in Charles grew. His knee was bouncing with impatience as he clenched his jaw. Yes. Yes, it fucking mattered. He wanted to shout until his lungs gave out that it mattered. He began to lose the evenness of his breathing pattern, becoming more erratic as you didn’t answer the question.

“Dis-le-moi et nous le découvrirons,” Tell me and we’ll find out. His eyes traced your every movement as your eyes narrowed at him, a scowl forming on your lips. The lips he dreamed about almost every night. 

The silence in the car heightened, and with each passing second, you could feel your heart rate quicken. His gaze remained fixated on your face, unwilling to divert elsewhere. It was as if he were a predator, and you, his prey, captivated under the unrelenting focus of his eyes.

“What? No snarky remarks for me?” C’mon play with me. Although he felt like his chest might crack in two, he needed to mask it. Needed to be nonchalant. 

The tension lingered until you took a sharp swallow, the muscles in your neck twitching, that his eyes shifted, descending to the nape of your neck. They fixated on the subtle gleam of your collarbones, still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the night’s dancing. His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your breasts with each breath. He wanted to devour you whole.

You felt your thighs clench slightly from his pressuring gaze. He is so fucking hot. His hair in complete disarray from running his hands through it. He wore a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie that made you want to cling your body around him as soon as you saw him.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two? His patience was wearing thin. You still haven’t answered his question, and the silence was eating him alive.

You detected a subtle waver in his tone, prompting a softening in your gaze. Your hand gently reached for his face, and he allowed his head to lean ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. It was as if your touch alone had the power to appease the turmoil of anger and jealousy rising within him. 

And as much as you loved to get under his skin like he did yours sometimes. You couldn’t find it in you to provoke him. To cause him any pain. “No.”

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly as your thumb brushed against his jawline. His hands tremble when they reach for you, pulling you out of your seat and across the center console into his lap. “Est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance?” Would it matter? You repeated the question as your legs straddled him. His hands slid around your waist, resting on your backside in a tight grip, so you couldn’t move. 

His mouth formed into a hardened line, as if he forced it to show you just how serious he was when he answered. “Bien sûr que cela a de l’importance,” Of course it matters. 

“Porquoi?” Why?

“Why?” He repeats your question. Scoffing at the fact that you even had to ask him. As if you didn’t already know why.

You suck in a sharp breath as soon as his warm tongue meets with the nape of your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses up until his lips meet yours for a moment before pulling away. 

“Mon coeur t’appartient.” My heart is yours. There was no questioning in his words. “Il a toujours été tien.” It’s always been yours. As those words hung in the air, your breath caught. You love this man. You love this man with every fiber of your being. 

His fingers gripped onto your thighs with an almost bruising intensity, as if he needed to confirm your presence by feeling you in his hands, ensuring you weren’t a figment of his imagination. His nails traced along the thin fabric at the apex of your thigh, before digging them in and tearing them open instantly. You let out an audible moan as his fingers found immediate solace to the damp spot on your underwear. Of course, you were already wet just by looking at him.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He questioned, adding slight pressure to your cotton covered clit. 

You moaned in delight at the contact but did not answer his question. It drove him mad.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, shoving them to the side, and slipping his fingers into your heated core. His fingers curled, hitting the spot you needed him most just right. Your back arched, barely grazing the horn of the steering wheel. Your hands were frantic, reaching for the waistband of his grey sweats as Charles lifted in hips off his seat to help you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned out loud. The pace of Charles’ fingers had you careening forward with a cry, before he pulled them out of you completely, leaving you shouting “No!”.

“Relax cherie,” He clicked his tongue before pulling your chest flush with his, raising you up an inch to slide his cock right into you. He groaned as your pussy clenched tightly around him, squeezing him so tight he could barely focus on anything else. He held you down against him, letting neither of you move. 

It wasn’t until you fully sat, completely full of him, that he rips the buttons of your shirt open, revealing a lacy ensemble across your chest. He traces the tip of his finger along cup of your breast and says, “Did you wear this on purpose, hm?”

You shook your head, wiggling your hips with a groan. You needed to move, needed to feel the force of his cock into you, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hips down as if he was waiting for something.

"You feel so good," He groans. "Squeezing me so tight."

“Cha, please.” You begged, getting agitated at the lack of movement.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He repeats again. A grin stretched across his features at your obvious struggle. The fact that you needed his cock this badly, had him only growing harder. 

You bit your lip as Charles’ fingers sprawled across your neck in a tight grip, pulling your face to his. Close enough that your noses were touching.

“Réponds, et je suis tout à toi.” Answer, and I’m all yours.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me?

You don’t know what held you back from answering before. Because you did. He knew you did. He just needed to hear the words from your lips. Needed the reassurance that this was more than a quick fuck to you.

“Oui!” Yes! You half-shouted, eyes blown wide with need. “I will always love you!”

His hand released your hips, giving you the immediate go-ahead. You wasted no time, working yourself over his cock, moans eliciting from the both of you almost instantly. His hands slid to cup your ass, controlling your movements as he urges you to move faster.

“Mon dieu,” Charles groaned, his fingers dipping into the cup of your lacy ensemble, rolling your nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Je t’aime,” I love you.

The mere utterance of those words had you instinctively squeezing his cock with an intensified fervor, bringing you perilously close to the brink of ecstasy. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect his declaration had on you.

You moved your hips faster, the bounce of your breasts had Charles in a trance before he brought his eyes back to your face, looking you deep in the eyes. “Je t’aime,” He muttered again, bringing his lips to your mouth, swallowing your moans as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “C’mon, give it to me.” He begged, thrusting his hips upward into you as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of his head until you both reach that point of ecstasy you both needed.

His face was bright red, cheeks flushed, as you worked yourself over him in a hurried pace. His sweatshirt no doubt, making him feel like a furnace, as sweat forms near his eyebrow. His eyes were wild, unsure where to look until they met with your eyes. His cock twitching inside of you from the clench of your pussy on him, and the gaze of your eyes.

“Je t’aime!” You shouted, releasing all over him and falling forward in exhaustion onto Charles chest. 

Charles groaned hotly into your ear, his release catching him completely off guard due to the words you uttered. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested against it. 

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. His fingers caressed the ends of your hair behind your back. The both of you made no attempts to move.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. You repeat back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader

[inbarfink]

So one of the cool and interesting ways ‘Steven Universe’ used to try and balance being both a series of 11-minutes episodes that each have their own satisfying emotional resolution and being an overarching story with complicated character arcs that take multiple seasons to resolve is the… I’m going to call it the ‘Not Quite Right Lesson’ episodes. Episodes where a character kinda learns a Very Important Lesson… but a more careful and retrospective look at the situation shows that what they learned is not Quite the Right Thing for them. They internalized something in that adventure which just ended up causing more Emotional Troubles for themselves farther down the line.

‘The Test’ is the most classic example. 

As a standalone thing, it’s just a sweet episode about Steven learning to accept that his caretakers are also flawed and confused and figuring this shit up as they’re going along just like he is, and then doing a nice thing for their sake.

But looking back at this episode, it is quite obviously the nadir of Steven appointing himself as the Family Therapist and repressing all of his problems so he could better help the Gems’ with theirs. Like, there have been some early warning signs for this Complex, but this episode is the one that really cemented that idea in his mind and probably the reason it took him like the Entire Rest of the Show Including a Post-Finale Season to really untangle it.

But… also, I’ve been thinking a lot about the episode right after that, ‘Future Vision’. I think it’s also a very important ‘Not Quite Right Lesson Episode’ for the character of Garnet, and to some extent, the Crystal Gems as a whole. In many ways, it is to the CGs' character arcs' what 'the Test' is to Steven's.

So in this episode, Garnet reveals to Steven the fact that she has Future Vision. She hoped that telling Steven a little bit more about herself and being honest with him will lead to a greater understanding and a greater bond between them… but it backfired. It just led Steven to become a total paranoid, terrified wreck stuck in a total existential crisis.

And it seems like the lesson Garnet learned is that… she should’ve never taken that risk at all. That it would’ve been better for everyone if she just kept Steven ignorant of the truth forever.

Extremely reinforced with the ending of the episode, where Garnet chooses to once again hide an uncomfortable truth (that he just came very close to dying again) from Steven, for the sake of his own ‘peace of mind’.

So, like, the Gems were already hiding uncomfortable truths from Steven since day one. “If you could only know what we really are” and all of that. But I think… With the actual truth of Homeworld encroaching on them more and more at this point of the story arc, this would’ve been a great time for the Gems to reconsider their attitude and actually Explain to Steven What the Hell is Going On. 

But instead, I think Garnet saw the events of ‘Future Vision’ as a reinforcement of the idea that there’s just some things Steven is Better Off Not Knowing. Actually being frank with him about Homeworld and the Diamonds and the War right there and then, that would have just overwhelmed Steven with fears and worries and would’ve ended up doing nothing but hurting him. And Garnet can’t accept that possibility, not again.

And so, Garnet, alongside Amethyst and Pearl, keep all these truths from Steven as long as possible. Only revealing bits of information when they have to. For Amethyst it’s about her emotionally-evasive attitude (also, she legit doesn’t know all of that stuff herself). For Pearl it’s about how she learned to romanticize Rose’s own fucked-up obsession with secrets. For Garnet, with her usually very direct attitude and preference for the most straightforward solutions, I think it’s very much the events of ‘Future Vision’ that were still playing in her head every time she had the choice to actually Explain something to Steven and decided not to. 

But that, indeed, was Not Quite the Right Lesson. While being bluntly and directly told by Garnet all about the Many Ways He Could Die caused Steven to go into an anxiety spiral and an existential crisis for an episode - the way the Gems have been consistently secretive and evasive with Steven ended up causing him so much more emotional grief to him in the long run. As all of these secrets ended up revealed to him in the most surprising, dramatic and traumatizing way possible.

And the secretive attitudes ended up driving a wedge between Steven and the Gems. 

Even after they promised to be more honest with him. Because the sight of Steven crying on the roof that day is one that Garnet can easily move away from. Because Garnet’s Not Quite Right Lesson was almost as difficult for her to unlearn as Steven’s own. 

But after the big confrontation at the start of the Zoo Arc, Garnet ended up being the most upfront about the Crystal Gems’ history. Almost overeager to share what she knows about the past.

I mean also, again, Amethyst just has less to tell and Pearl is hiding secrets for reasons beyond her control - but I think it’s also important to consider from the perspective of Garnet’s arc.

Because the fallout of the Pink Diamond Reveal is very much centered around Garnet (or, well, Ruby and Sapphire). That was the Truth that was hidden from her 'for her own good'. And at the end of the day, despite all the grief that unveiling that truth has caused

It has also brought them, all of them, a lot closer.

There's a reason why 'the Truth' is Garnet's Final Missing Piece in the movie. It is as central to her character arc in the series as Lesbian AngstTM grief over lost love is to Pearl.

And still, some remnants of the Trauma of 'Future Vision' remained...

After all, even the very last episode of 'Future' was centered around the Gems once again trying to hide things from Steven (at that case, their turmoil about him leaving) for his own sake

Even though it once again just caused Steven a whole lot of grief.

It's maybe notable that at the end of this episode, Garnet, once again, tells Steven what's waiting for him in his Future...

#steven universe #su #steven universe future #su future #suf #su analysis #garnet #garnet steven universe #garnet su #steven #steven universe garnet #su garnet #ruby #sapphire #ruby steven universe #ruby su #sapphire su #sapphire steven universe #steven quartz universe #steven quartz demayo #su steven

[botnasty]

The Missing Link

Pornstar!Bucky Barnes X Director!Reader

Words: 2.2k words

Warnings: Smut (Duh), lill past trauma, but sweet ass bucky.

Note: I am getting rid of some of my draft and this was part of it.

Main Masterlist

“Where is she? She was the one who begged to do a shoot with him!” It was almost chaos in the house you rented. Everyone was ready for today; the cameras were set up, Bucky Barnes, aka The White Wolf as the porn industry calls him, was in the back getting ready with his fluffer. Everything was set and ready, except for his co-star. She was the one who approached you in the first place, Bucky’s manager, to do this shoot with him. She had begged you for months to be able to do a video with him, and the moment it was supposed to happen, she disappeared.

“Did you contact her manager?” asked one of the cameramen. You almost wanted to roll your eyes. “Of course I did, John. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? He says he can’t contact her either. She is completely AWOL.” Your hands were almost shaking. You couldn’t just ask everyone who came; unfortunately, they weren’t needed... And Bucky, you made him come out here on his day off. You couldn’t just tell him it was all for nothing.

“Think, think.” You said to yourself as you kept on pacing in the white hallway that led to the bedroom where the shooting was supposed to happen – hopefully. What did your own manager do when you were a pornstar? You sighed and leaned against the wall. He would have done nothing, since he was a sack of shit who literally stole money from you, which was the reason you left being a porn star to become a manager yourself.

Years ago, being a pornstar was some of the worst times of your life. The lack of respect and regulation in the industry made it hard for anyone to truly enjoy what they did. It was a world where exploitation lurked behind the glamor, where your worth was often measured by your ability to perform on camera rather than your humanity. 

But now, times have changed. The industry has evolved, becoming more professional and respectful of its performers. Your own experiences in the past have shaped the way you approach your current role as a manager. You left behind the world of adult entertainment, partly because of the exploitation you faced, but also because of a manager who took advantage of you, stealing money and betraying your trust.

Despite the challenges you faced, you've found a way to navigate the industry with integrity. Your decision to step back into a role you thought you had left behind speaks to your dedication to ensuring the success of this shoot. You're willing to do what it takes to make sure everything goes smoothly, even if it means revisiting a past you'd rather forget.

“Boss, you okay?” You jumped back to see Bucky out of the room that was assigned to his dressing room. He had no shirt on, only a pair of jeans, which was how he was supposed to be in the scene. “Yeah, all is good, but I think you heard about the problem.”

“She still hasn’t shown up?” He tossed his hair back with his hand. “Well, this complicates things… Maybe I could do a solo shoot? It could be a solution,” he grinned, "because I do not think any random co-star will pop out of nowhere.”

You walked closer to him and looked up into his eyes. “You could, but there is also another solution, only if you are comfortable with it…”

It’s like he knew exactly what you were talking about because his eyes widened. “You would do that? But wasn’t your experience in the past something you told me you never would’ve wanted to do again?”

You looked at the time on your phone. “I know, but it would be necessary. We are on contract, and the agency wants a full video, not just a solo one.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady. You trusted Bucky; you knew him ever since he was an amateur in the porn industry, and you knew how he was with all his co-stars. He always tried to make them comfortable, get to know them a little so that when the camera rolled, everything went smoothly.

“You would trust me with that?” He scratched his pec and leaned closer to you as you nodded. “Okay, and I am comfortable doing that with you too, but if at any time, it gets too much, we stop, and I do not care what the agency says. It’s not our fault she didn’t show up.” His eyes went back and forth between yours. “Are we clear?” You wanted to laugh. You were the manager here; you were supposed to be the one comforting and all that, but here he was doing that to you.

“Yeah, big guy, I guess it’s time for me to go get ready. I'll tell everyone it’s almost ‘go’ time. And you,” you pointed at him, “Go back to your fluffer and get ready.” You said with a smile.

He smiled back. “Oh, I do not think I’ll need one for this shoot.”

After the decision is made for you to step in as Bucky's co-star, the atmosphere on set shifts. The initial tension and uncertainty give way to a focused determination to make the best of the situation. As you both prepare for the scene, there's a sense of mutual respect and understanding between you and Bucky, forged through years of working in the industry.

As the cameras start rolling, the room falls into a hushed anticipation, a quiet reverence for the performance about to unfold. You and Bucky stand facing each other, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. The set fades away, and it's just the two of you, locked in a moment that feels both intimate and exhilarating.

Bucky's touch is like fire against your skin, igniting a passion that burns brightly between you. His eyes are intense, filled with a hunger that mirrors your own. Your head is all over the place as to what is about to unfold. You can feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, heightening every sensation, every touch.

"You ready?" Bucky's voice is a low growl, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His fingers start stroking the skin on your arms.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "More than ready."

He grins, “Well then, let’s start this.” He grabbed your head in his big hands and kissed you on the lips. Never in your life would you have ever thought of being on the receiving end of Bucky Barnes. You had always guiltily imagined it: being his co-star. Your arm traveled around his neck as your other hand explored his tone body. He was so firm at all the right places. You wanted to smirk when you heard him growl as you reached lower and lower.

Suddenly, before you could even reach his bulge, he let go of you. “Get on your knees, baby. Come on.” He let you slide down on your knee as he held to your hair. “Get in out for me.”

“I happily will.” You couldn’t help but say. You licked your lips when you saw a glimpse of the head poking out from the top of his boxer. He was so big, you were already salivating at the thought of having him in your mouth. 

As you pulled down the boxers, his dick springs out, the tip so red it looked uncomfortable. You placed your hands on his thighs and let a drool of spit land on the tip. It’s so thick you couldn’t help but think. You wrapped your hand around the base and you heard his breath hitch. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were dark with desire. “Fuck my face, big guy.” Was the last thing you said before he took your head in his hands and pushed his dick deep inside your mouth, almost choking you. He must have realized his mistake because he asked you: “If it’s too much, tap my thigh twice.” You never did. 

His dick was so heavy in your mouth, so hot. You had never liked sucking your co-star’s dick before, but his dick was now part of the exception. Hesitantly, he let out a low groan, shutting his eyes tightly as he gripped onto your hair even more tightly. His free hand went instinctively towards his chest- covering his heart that was now racing wildly.”Fucking hell, baby. You have such a wet mouth. It feels so good.”

His head fell back slightly, letting out a shaky exhale." Jesus fucking Christ." He muttered, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. A small smile appeared on his lips though as he opened them again.”Squeeze my balls, baby. Grab them in your hands.” As you did a loud groan left his mouth and he suddenly pulled out.

“I was about to cum, baby. Oh, fuck.” You smirked.

“Oh really? And here I thought the big bad wolf had more in him.” You taunted him. You saw a big smirk appear on his face. “Oh, you asked for it baby.” He grabbed you suddenly, a little gasp leaving your mouth, and threw you on the bed.

“Touch yourself. I want to see what you do when you think of my dick every night.” Slowly you brought your hands to your tits, your fingers twisting your nipples as you looked straight in his eyes. You saw him swallowed thickly, still staring at you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, it’s like he was simply watching  you – taking in every detail of your appearance, committing it to memory.

With one last pinch you brought your hand to your clit, never in your life had you been this wet in a shoot. Always, before, the guy needed to use lube with you, but this time, you could feel some wetness dripping down your thighs and also down your ass. It had been such a long time since you’ve felt pleasure at all.

He got on top of you, hid dick in his hand. "I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby.” He said loud enough for the camera to pick it up, but in your ears he whispered: “You okay?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You smile, a mix of gratitude and admiration in your gaze. "I'm perfect. You're amazing."

He pecked your lips. “I’m gonna put it in…” He slapped his dick twice against your clip, making you jolt with a moan. The tip of his dick gently breached your opening and already you felt full. He was so big. You placed a hand on his lower back and bit on his neck as he went deeper. “OH, fuck. So fucking tight.”

Your hands grabbed whatever you could have he trusted deep inside of you. The wet sound of sex vibrating in the air, as he kept going. He growled. “I fucking love your pussy.” He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer as he went on his knees. “How come you hid this from me, huh?” You could feel all the ridges of his dick, how veiny it was and the tip always brushing your sweet spot inside in this position. 

You grabbed one of his hands and tried to bring it to your clit. “Please, please, please.” Once he understood, he started rubbing your clit with his thumb as he forced his dic depper in you. Everything was too much.

You let out a moan and tossed your head back, your legs were shaking all over the place. “I can feel you tightening, baby. Are you gonna cum like a good slut on my dick? You are, aren't you.” You tried to nod, but to no avail. Your body was just completely shaking, before you let out a loud moan and you felt your pussy tighten around him. Somehow this was enough to make Bucky Barnes, the man you knew could last for hours, to cum in you. He groaned and moaned as he kept on doing little thrust in you, making all of his cum pooling inside of you just as he fell down on you. Both sweaty bodies against each other and heavy breath mingling.

The room seems to pulse with a shared energy, a connection between you and Bucky that transcends the physical. When the director finally calls "cut," there's a moment of stillness, as if everyone is caught in the spell you've woven.

"You were incredible," Bucky says, his voice filled with genuine admiration and he kissed your cheek. "I couldn't have asked for a better co-star. Maybe we should do this again sometime"

You smile, feeling a sense of pride wash over you, a sense of reborn. "You weren't so bad yourself.”

Thank you so much for reading! PLease do not hesitate to let me know what y'all think:)

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan characters #sebastian #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #modern au #au #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #winter soldier

[damn-stark]

Omg daddy choso??? Sign me in please please do it!! We want a request on that

She’s mine

Warning- FLUFF!!!! HEART MELTING FLUFF!!

————

“Choso,” the doctor calls his name even though he had zoomed to the door the moment he heard it open. “You can come in now.”

She offers him a tiny smile and barely gets to move aside before he’s shoving past her to see you and his newborn after he was kicked out—no after he was dragged out of the room by his little brother after you had some complications that the doctors needed to tend to without him in the room. So let’s just say he was impatient, and if he wasn’t part curse he probably would’ve suffered something with how stressed he was.

“Y/N?” Choso calls out impatiently even if the monitors in the room confirm that your heart is still beating.

“Choso,” you call back behind the current. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

When Choso reaches the curtain blocking him from reaching you he yanks it forcefully to the side and only lets his poor thumping heart ease back to normal the moment his eyes lie on you.

“Y/N,” he gasps and rushes over to take your face in his hands and take you in as if he had gone years without seeing what you looked like.

“Cho,” you whisper and grab one of his hands. “I’m fine now, I am.” You laugh softly and then beam at him. “Look, look at what we made.” You coo and look down at the little bundle in your arm.

Choso slowly follows your line of gaze and gasps and freezes the moment he sees the little baby he’s been impatient to meet ever since you told him you were expecting his baby, whilst his once steady heart begins to work overtime once again as he admires the most precious thing he’s ever seen; his baby. The baby he made with you.

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe that all his waiting has finally led to this exact moment of having his own child in the world.

“Do you want to hold her?” You ask him and move her closer to him, but Choso steps back and looks at you with his eyes glossy and expressing his disbelief and awe.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers and holds his hands out in front of him. “What if I drop her? I don’t want to hurt her.”

You share a small laugh and look at him with even more admiration. “Oh, my love, you won’t hurt her. And it’s not hard, I can help you. Just come here. Hold her, she wants to meet you.” You giggle.

Choso holds your gaze for a few more seconds to build up his confidence, and once he sees that you’ve brought the baby closer to him he steps forward and slowly lowers his eyes to look at the chubby little baby, and swallows thickly.

“You’ll be cradling her so just—yes,” you praise him as he mimics the way you have your arms bent. “Just like that perfect.”

You slowly lower the baby in his arms and once you feel his grip secured on the baby, you slowly pull your arms back. “Just be careful with her head,” you remind him.

Once Choso can no longer feel the warmth of your hands over his helping him secure the baby, the moment he sees you rest your hands over your stomach he focuses on the baby finally in his arms and acknowledges the small little weight in his arms and his breath catches while his eyes get overwhelmed with tears.

“Oh, Choso,” you muse and beam at him.

Choso’s shoulders begin to shake and streams of tears begin to flow down the curve of his cheeks as he feels the warmth of his child, his baby girl in his arms.

He’s felt paternal love before, he’s the oldest brother after all, so he’s felt paternal love besides brotherly love for his brothers, but this? This felt different. He can’t even put into words what he’s feeling upon seeing his baby girl.

He feels an endless amount of bliss, he feels truly euphoric, and he feels disbelief that he's holding something so precious that he made. Him! A half curse!

It feels almost like he’s unworthy to have this little blessing.

“Isn’t she so beautiful?” You interject quietly as you watch Choso holding your baby. “You made that, my love.”

Choso’s eyes drift to you and a wobbly smile tugs on his lips.

“Our baby,” you muse.

Choso looks back at the baby and notices her scrunching her little nose, and furrowing her thin little eyebrows. “Oh,” he gasps and turns to face you. “I think she doesn’t want me.”

You giggle and shake your head. “Just talk to her, let her know it’s you.”

Choso looks at you unsure and then looks back at his baby and exhales deeply hoping you’re right. “Hello,” he whispers very, very quietly. “It’s okay….it’s just me.”

You smile and look at Choso with awe.

“I won’t hurt you,” he continues with more confidence. “I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you. You’re my little blessing.” He says and pulls one hand out to carefully caress the baby’s warm cheek with his finger, causing tears to escape from your eyes.

“See, she just needed to hear your voice,” you assure him and reach over to give his arm an assuring squeeze as you see the baby slowly relax again as her father's voice travels in her ears.

“Thank you,” Choso whispers and looks at you. “For giving me this opportunity. Thank you for our little blessing. I’m glad that I get to share this with you. Thank you. I love you.”

You cry softly and he leans over to press a gentle kiss on your lips before he sits down next to you so you can admire the little baby in his arms together.

#fanfiction #damn-stark #choso #choso kamo #choso fanfiction #jjk choso #choso x fem!reader #choso x female reader #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso fanfic #choso fluff #choso kamo fanfiction #Choso kamo x fem!reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x female reader

[s-uwu-binie]

↳ ❝ [unfiltered fondness]! ❞

➻ txt x gn!reader

➻ nothing but fluff ^^

⤷ nothing could really hide away the oh so obvious liking of these lovesick boys for you.

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶 𝘆𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗻

choi yeonjun. a name that rings familiarity in so many people’s ears. a name that brings desire amongst people. a name that you’re lucky to call yours. well, at least that’s what you think, which is a resounding contrast to the envious glares you feel on your back. it doesn’t get easier when you hear their whispers.

as the night went on, the pressing weight on your back seemed to be getting to you as the silk that delicately draped on your body now felt suffocating more than ever.

“baby?” a hand that felt too familiar settled its warmth on the small of your back, tracing patterns on the fabric wrapped on your skin. as much as the touch brought extreme comfort to you, you can’t seem to find the words to speak out the thoughts that rang like an endless mantra in your head.

receiving no response from your end, yeonjun took it in his own hands, gently tugging you along as he led you two to the balcony. and once seeing the space empty, yeonjun immediately jumped on the opportunity to talk. “talk to me, y/n.” he asked, taking a step closer to you. “please?”

hearing the distinct crack in his voice at your lack of response prompted you to look at him for what it seemed like the first time this night. and as your eyes met with his, you can almost immediately recognize the shine in them, staring at you as if you hung the stars in the night sky, and yeonjun would’ve believed that if it was up to him. you’re literally the prettiest human being he laid eyes on.

it's only such a shame that others don't share the same sentiment. he would've thrown hands, honestly speaking.

you sighed, seeing that he won’t budge from his lovestruck stare any time soon. “just... why me, jun?” you love him, you really do. how can you not when he is the embodiment of perfection. but it just doesn't make sense.

your eyes stared up into his once again, challenging him as you waited for an answer. an answer you hope would be the end of it all. however, the reply you got wasn’t all what you were expecting.

“why?” he paused, letting out a deep chuckle that nearly sent your heart soaring if it were not to your current concern. “i love you. that’s why.”

“no. no, that doesn't make sense.” you gestured to the both of you, “we don’t make any sense, jun.”

heaving a sigh, yeonjun took another step, bridging the gap. “i don’t need to have a reason why i feel the way i feel. i just do.”

almost not believing your ears, you were ready to retort if it weren’t for your boyfriend’s interruption. “i honestly don’t care about what they say or think. i’m the one dating you, not them.”

aand to emphasize his point, yeonjun takes one final step to you. one final step to touch your aching heart. “yeonjun-”

not wanting to hear anymore of your doubts, he seals the promise between the both of you. cutting you off this time with a sudden pull at your waist and a soft kiss on your lips, ultimately clearing away all previous doubts and what ifs.

“i don’t care how complicated this gets, i still want you.”

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻

you were starting to feel sorry.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning. it was all about taking spontaneous walks in the nearby park, touring in museums, eating out in multiple food stalls around the city, splurging in convenience stores, and so many more that you can’t even count. 

and now, it’s all about sleeping in an empty bed, waking up earlier than the other then returning to the shared apartment with the other already fast asleep, and cancelled dates.

rainchecks and cancellation of milestones were a normal occurrence now. but all you wanted to do was to cuddle into the safety of your blankets and sleep the whole day away with soobin. but of course, the timing was never right as you watched soobin pick up his coat, getting ready for another day at work. perhaps, you two needed to take a break somehow?

“someone’s got a staring problem this morning, huh?” soobin teased, looking over his shoulder. chuckling, you throw a pillow, hitting him straight on the face. “no i don’t.”

soobin let out a scoff as he waddled over to your form on the sofa. “you look troubled lately, bubs,” he said while reaching for your hand before he started playing with your fingers, fiddling with them as he stared up at you from his kneeled position. 

“just thinking about something…”

“ahh, that’s never good.”

you jokingly slapped his arm, shushing him from teasing you even more. “as i was saying,” giving him a pointed look. “maybe we need to…”

you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. it simply felt wrong in your mind, it nearly made you sick to your stomach.

wordlessly, soobin gazed upon you as you struggled to find the right words to say, but soobin already knew what you wanted to convey. he just didn’t want it to be true. “let’s not, please.”

as you breathed in, you shook your head and gripped his hand. If there had been an easier way to talk it out, you would’ve already done it. but the lump in your throat and the tears in the corners of your eyes made it so difficult to breathe. “i’m afraid that-”

“that i’d leave just because we’re busy? that i’d drift away from you because of my tight schedules?” soobin rambled on as he got closer to you, but not completely standing up from his seated position. “you know i wouldn’t do that to you, y/n.”

with his hand gripped firmly in yours, the other one reaches out to caress your cheek. and out of habit, you leaned in to his warm touch, “i know, but what if something happens. what if we grow further apart, bin.”

“oh, bubs.” he grinned at you from ear to ear, as if you weren’t the messiest you’ve ever been with your teary eyes and runny nose. “you can trust that i’ll stay forever.”

and despite the heart-wrenching meaning behind his words, you can’t possibly ignore the flutter it brought to your heart. “when did you get so cheesy?” you land a light-hearted jab on his shoulder, which earned you his laughs and cheeky smile, occupying the quiet apartment with his honey-like melodies. 

as his laughter and your hiccups died down, the question in your mind still lingered in the air like smoke. “forever?”

“yep.” soobin replied with a playful hum, now deciding to lean even closer to you, so close that you can feel his heartbeat from the way your palm rests on his chest. he looked down at your hand on his chest, beaming at the sight before locking eyes with you, gaze softening. “here…”

he gave you one more look, taking a good amount of time to admire every bit of you. “...with you.”

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶 𝗯𝗲𝗼𝗺𝗴𝘆𝘂

words can’t describe the tiredness that seeped through your bones as of this moment, and it was taking a drastic toll on your body. as much as you wanted to stop everything you’re doing, you can’t. you needed to get this done for tomorrow morning, well more like later. 

sneaking a glance at the wall clock adjacent to where you were sitting only further confirmed your suspicion. 

3:53 am

well, so much for getting it done in the morning. you sighed, completely exhausted. and for a few more seconds the only sounds that filled the living room was the ticking of the clock, reminding you that you should be typing away at your laptop, and not leaning back on the cushions behind you as if you didn’t have a tight deadline in four hours. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” your ever loving boyfriend stood in front of you, hands firmly placed on his hips, looking eerily similar to how your mom used to scold you back home. 

you flinched at the sudden interruption of silence. “gyu, i thought you were asleep.” you put the laptop aside on the space beside, taking a good look at beomgyu’s unamused expression. 

“i didn’t feel you beside me when i was sleeping.” he pouted, “you left me all alone, baby.” 

right, ever the most dramatic too as he lunged himself at you, almost knocking your laptop off the couch. all you could do was reach over and hope that your laptop wasn’t snapped in half. “you’re such a mess, gyu.”

the only reply you got from the man was an utter look of disbelief and a whine you’re so familiar with. “so are you.”

“touché.”

“so, what’s going on with you?” beomgyu turned to you, making himself comfortable as he buries his face in your neck. “is something bothering you? is that why you can’t sleep?”

“nope, i’m just busy.” you were a lot of things, yes. but you weren’t exactly a good liar, and beomgyu knew that. 

“tsk, look at you lying to me.” his voice sent vibrations from your neck down to your spine as he spoke softly, tone contrasting from the clear teasing from his words. “since when were you this shameless, babe?”

a sigh left your lips, deciding to come clean to him about it. “fine. i’m exhausted.” it was all becoming way too much. you could only take too much before you start to buckle under the immense work and pressure you’re harbouring on your shoulders. “i want to sleep, but i know i can’t. i still have a lot of work to do.”

“why didn’t you tell me this sooner.” beomgyu peeked from your neck, “and don’t you say it’s because you didn’t want to bother me.”

“took the words right out my mouth there.” you chuckled, now feeling more worn-out than ever. it also didn’t help that beomgyu started to comb your hair, slowly playing with your locks and massaging your scalp. 

beomgyu didn’t reply after that, only silently threading his fingers through your hair once he took note of your change of breathing. once he made sure you were knocked out, he carefully slipped away from your arms, gently laying you down on the couch. 

“you’re so mean, you know that?” he glanced at your sleeping form. his eyes trailed from your furrowed brows, which he smoothed out with his thumb. beomgyu also noticed the clear signs of insomnia on your face, shaking his head in disappointment as he saw the dark circles under your eyes. 

“don’t leave me out of your struggles, share it with me.” beomgyu wasted no time in opening your laptop, and started typing away with you snoring peacefully in the background. 

imagine your surprise when you woke up in the afternoon with your document already sent with beomgyu clinging to your waist, head buried in your chest. 

𝗸𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗮𝗲𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻

the door slammed shut, footsteps soon following it. it wasn’t long after when the sound of plastic hitting the table.

“you wreck me, love.” taehyun blurted out, lowering himself down to sit on the opposite of you from the coffee table. he says it like you had an idea of what he was referring to, he even got his arms crossed, staring you down. 

wow, okay. that came out of nowhere.

“i think i should be the one asking that question.” he sighed, nodding at your scribbled notes. “you eaten yet?”

as opposed to replying, you continued to take notes, keeping your eyes on the page while trying to ignore his stare. and for a couple of seconds, the only noise that filled the room was your pen scratching against the paper and your steady breathing.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.” taehyun brought out another plastic bag, taking out its contents. you soon later recognize the familiar packaging from your favourite fast-food place. 

“eat up, sugar.” taehyun slid the take-out container to you. “i’m not that hungry, tyun.” you said without looking up from what you were doing. 

truth was, you haven’t eaten yet. you didn’t have the time to really prepare or order yourself anything the whole day. but as stubborn as you are, it’s getting rather difficult to suppress the urge to grab the food that taehyun’s tempting you with. but nope, you figured you should be finished with your work first, a habit that taehyun absolutely hated with his entire being.

“you love me right?” he asked, opening up another container for himself, taking a big bite, chopsticks already grabbing another piece, offering it to you. 

“of course i do.”

he set his chopsticks down, propping his arms up on the table. “do you love me?” he repeated. 

“yes, tyun. i love you.” you exclaimed, finally setting your pen down, giving him your undivided attention for the time being. 

taehyun hummed in response, satisfied with your answer. “is that so?”

you nodded enthusiastically.

“if you really love me then prove it.” he nudged the styrofoam filled to the brim with your favorite appetizer. you gotta admit, he honestly came prepared for this, he’s got all your go-to appetizers up to your ideal dessert. just as expected, he never misses a single detail. “just one bite at least.”

you groaned, giving in to your hunger, hands reaching out to taehyun’s outstretched one, “fine.”

“now, give me that.” he demanded, wasting no time in snatching your pen and notebook as taehyun began jotting down your notes for you, letting your body rest for a while as he contently fed you with his other hand, knowing that you can’t really digest the thought of leaving him hanging. 

“i love you more, by the way.” his sharp eyes glanced at you for a moment, a smile tugged on his lips while he said this.

“i love you mo-” as you struggle to speak, he shoves another mouthful of food into your mouth to shut you up. “talk me to me when you’re full. i can’t bear seeing you like this.”

𝗵𝘂𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗮𝗶

“here,” kai handed you the tissue box, watching you sniffle and blow your nose in amusement. “it’s not that deep, sunshine.”

you shot him a look of disbelief, brows furrowed and lips curled into a scowl. “how could you say that, hyuka?” you point to the disney movie playing, “that right there should be hitting you in the feels.”

all you got was a series of his hyena laughter, even throwing his head back, coughing by the end of it. 

you scoffed, “serves you right.” your words contradicting your actions as you urge him to drink from his bottle of water, patting his back while you’re at it. 

once his coughing fit died down, transitioning to small wheezes here and there, he turned to you again, pushing the box of tissues towards you, even taking it upon himself to wipe away your tears. 

“you know…” kai leaned on your shoulder, staring at you through his thick lashes. “i think i really like it when you cry.”

you pulled away from him, which led to his head falling off your shoulder, landing on your stomach. “excuse me?” you asked, eyes scanning him top to bottom to check if something’s up or if this is another form of his nonstop teasing.

kai hurriedly put his hands up, waving them around in a panic. you narrowed your eyes on him. “wait!” 

“before you chastise me.” he paused, “don’t get me wrong. i meant it as a way that i admire that you stay true to your emotions.”

you stayed silent, prompting kai to continue. “i just think it’s nice, you know?” he went on to say, taking in the oozing curiosity in your orbs. “i already love you so much, and i still find so many reasons why i love you already,” he stopped to meet your eyes, sparkling with adoration, he then hid his face in your shirt, voice muffled as he said bashfully, “...if that makes sense.”

your vision blurred once more as you took in the meaning of his words. you didn’t know how you got so lucky to score a guy like kai, to have the opportunity to love such a kind soul as his. he only proves to you everyday how much you mean to him in the best of ways, and somehow, this fact only brings a new set of tears to your already swollen eyes. 

“ahh, i’m crying again.” your hands rubbed your puffy eyes, though gently this time when you started to feel the sting around the area. “ayy, stop rubbing it. it’ll hurt more.” kai’s warm hands wrapped around yours, lightly pulling them away from your constant smearing. 

his left hand intertwined with yours, an action that doesn’t miss to make your heart skip a beat. he does this while the other snatched a tissue to pat on your tear-stained cheeks, “my crybaby.” he chuckled even more when you started bothering him to watch the movie after hearing you murmur something under your breath. but of course, it wouldn’t be hueningkai without the constant bickering. 

kai titled his head at you, eyes never leaving yours. “i think you got it wrong, bub.” he beamed at you, like sunshine, “i’m the lucky one here.”

all rights reserved © s-uwu-binie

#txt imagines #txt blurbs #txt reactions #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #txt timestamps #txt drabbles #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #kang taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #soobin fluff #beomgyu fluff #taehyun fluff #hueningkai fluff #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #hueningkai

[zyrlovesmizu]

y’know I respect a fan’s choice about how they want to view mizu but tiny ramble about it here. this isn’t any sort of discussion or ‘matter of fact’ essay, just a simple rant about headcannons about her being TRANS and her SEXUALITY.

Warning: extremely long.

Given the numerous limitations that would arise from traveling as a woman, I find it very difficult to understand why some people believe Mizu is transgender when it's obvious that she is hiding this information in order to survive. This was particularly true during the Edo period, when women were dehumanized and treated like objects because we only ever see them as a slave or working in a brothel (majority of the show at least). They were also seen having to depend on men for nearly everything, as demonstrated in the episode where the mother and daughter were left outside to freeze to death since her husband was not present to accompany them. Along with that subtle hints were presented to us that show how comfortable she is when in touch with her femininity like a few moments in the episode where she came back to Swords-father Eiji’s hut. Though, I can definitely see why people would label her as transmasc with the theory that she must’ve grown so accustomed to this sort of lifestyle, she’d perhaps just become transmasc in the later episodes. We’ll never know!

Next, not gonna lie, I’m insanely guilty of viewing Mizu as a bisexual women despite feeling that she is leaning more toward heterosexuality in terms of her sexuality. I have the biggest fattest crush on her so I have no problem stating how much I'm crying and wailing over this. Like c’mon, let's be real, I guarantee that 98% of simps are female, and I’m sure every single one of us has mentioned once that we can all treat her better than Mikio and Taigen. Speaking of Taigen, I HAVE to admit that him and Mizu do have the best chemistry compared to everyone in the show. It’s clear in the way she pulls him away from those shooting arrows, knocks him out becahse she fears for his safety if he follows, saving him from Fowler's castle even though she could have easily just left him to die and slain Fowler, etc. At first, I would’ve assumed she’d have trauma with men especially after Mikio’s betrayal which might’ve led her to stray away from any romantic attraction with men—or anybody in general. Honestly, I have dedicated my time to search for ANY hint (ok not rlly) that she might be attracted to women, but the only time I ever see her become flustered by one is when she appears to be taken aback by the prostitues she tried to ask for directions to the Shindo Dojo. Plus, there were only two occasions where she interacted with Akemi that people use to automatically ship them which is when she saw Akemi in her carriage (not sure of the specific name) and pinned her down in Madame Kaji's brothel. I can’t imagine them as a couple in later episodes, something I’m been dying to see. Though, it’s hard to determine what was running in her mind during the scene where they both stole glances at each other, especially since there was no sort of indication in her inner thoughts or emotions, so it’s normal to assume the above as well. (Despite that, I’m still rooting for AT LEAST bisexual Mizu because for the love of god and for the sake of all of the gay women here, PLEASE. /j)

I may make jokes about these headcannons like playfully hating on the TaiMizu ships. All in all, I’m sure the fans are mature enough to understand that these are meant to be lighthearted jokes and that people interpret a character and show in various ways and it’s normal! Even if I can’t comprehend the theory or feel as though it is a little too complicated/really negotiable, remember to support what you want, ship what you want, make whatever headcannons, nobody’s stopping you! Don’t be too afraid to just announce what you feel about the show. All I ask is to avoid SERIOUSLY cancelling someone just because of their own feelings and opinions. In the end, they’re stilll fictional characters (😞😞) who have no sort of physical form of any sort so do whatever, as long as it isn’t really THAT problematic in a sense (e.g. romanticising rape), go for it.

(Sorry for bringing her sexuality into this, I’m aware of how the show is definitely not centering on this and not every single thing has to be LGBTQ-related but I noice it’s something constantly brought up in the fandom. As someone whose phrasing and essay writing skills suck, I’m still learning bit by bit about how the world works in terms of differing views on things. I may not support your idea of a character but I RESPECT it! If I came off as rude, I’m sorry, remember it’s just my random midnight thoughts🙏)

#mizu blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eyed samurai #mizu #tumblr fyp #taigen #taigen blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #headcannons #akemi #transgender #sexuality #rants n rambles #late night rambles #lgbtq #random rants #might get cancelled #tumbler explore page #explore

[bri-sonat]

Kisses Of Fire

Follow-up to Life Eternal

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Knight!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure, Lord Brienne?” 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“Very well. Now, come with me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, My Lord.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, your Grace.” 

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

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

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

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

“Arise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her mind was racing, running faster than it ever had and Brienne couldn’t keep up. Until a noise ripped her out of her thoughts, permitting her to catch up to her sprinting brain. The door behind her opened and closed, signaling that someone else had entered the room. This was when she realized she had been standing still and in silence for far too long, Bran looking at her with an unreadable expression as he waited for her response. 

“Yes. Of course, Your Grace. When do we depart?” Brienne remained as professional and stoic as usual, even when her mind was anything but. She had zoned out again, become lost in her own thoughts like a scared little girl getting lost in the woods with no way out. 

“Tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the docks by then.” 

“Yes. Anything else?” 

“No. You are dismissed, Lord Brienne.” After vocalizing the command, Bran looked away from the Lord Commander and went back to his previous activity. Whatever that was hadn’t been observed by the blue-eyed knight, and she simply couldn’t be bothered to find out. 

She bowed before taking her exit, passing Tyrion as she left the room. He looked at her warm-heartedly, giving her the smallest of smiles and a small nod which she didn’t reciprocate, a scowl painted on her lips. 

If she wasn’t so focused on keeping the hurricane inside of her in check, and on preventing any tells to leak out of her hardened exterior onto her face, she would have given him the same back. Instead, she just kept her mind set on maintaining a straight face. 

The second the heavy door closed behind her, she let the stone face fall, and an intrigued smile replaced her former frown. Her booted footsteps echoed in the barren hallways as she went back the way she came, her long white cloak floating behind her. 

“Dorne, huh?”  

——— 

You rolled up what must have been the twentieth message for Brienne, before strapping the scroll to your raven. It was a warm day in Lemonwood, as it was every day in Dorne, the Summer Sea waves hitting against the cliff side breaking the pleasant silence of the early Sunday morning. 

Your raven, Bartholomew (actually named Branoc by your parents, but you thought that was a little bit boring), was sent on its way and you sat at your desk, watching the bird as it flapped its coal-black wings, carrying yet another message for your love. 

The usual distant bustling noise of Planky Town had yet to begin, it was still too early but you and your mother had a shipment to meet. No rest for the traders. 

Your family had since your great-great-great grandfather been a part of a large trading company, landing you as one of the wealthier families in Westeros.  

The business had been passed through generations and now it had landed on your mother's lap. You were delighted to assist her for however long she needed you but the longing and yearning for Brienne’s touch was getting to be too much. You needed to get back to her. 

Sighing, you put your stationary, ink, and quill away, before rising from your seated position at your desk. The armor you had worn in Winterfell had been swapped out for a more heat friendly one. Specially crafted to allow breathing and protection, the Dornish colors decorate the leather gear. 

It rested on the stand in your room, the fur coat and cold-resistant steel armor gathering dust in one of your closets. You hadn’t laid eyes on either of the items since you disregarded them five months ago. 

The trip here had been a long one, riding along Kings Road before turning onto Rivers Road; before finally arriving in Lannisport just west of Riverrun. Once there, you were able to hop on one of your family’s trading ships, taking you back to Planky Town. 

The only comfortable way to Dorne when traveling from another kingdom, was by ship. The terrain and road through the Red Mountains were unforgiving and extremely hard to traverse and there was no way you were putting yourself through that. The ride through the barren desert after the mountains wasn’t all that inviting either. 

The difference in climate had hit you right away, the searing sun of Dorne not quite the same as the biting chill of The North. Your fur coat had been discarded soon after passing The Trident and turning onto the road that led you to your destination. It rained moderately in the Riverlands, therefore, you had to take it off to insure its dryness.  

When it started raining, like you had expected it to do, you had to take a break, seeking shelter under the protecting crowns of the trees. The fur coat proved quite useful as an extra blanket during the cool nights, and you pretended that it was the warm embrace of Brienne enveloping you instead of the cloak. 

After you had boarded the ship in Lannisport, you were able to take off your armor for the first time in days, letting the cool breeze of the sea wash over you. The familiar salty smell of the ocean reminding you of your childhood. 

The sound of knocking on your door pulled you out of your reminiscent state. Quickly pulling yourself to the present, you took large strides toward your door and opened it in a swift and controlled motion. 

You were met with the weary and tired eyes of your mother, she hadn’t slept well since the passing of your father, and you couldn’t blame her, neither had you. 

The sleeplessness was a combination of the grief from losing your father and the loss of Brienne's warmth. You had slept in her arms only once, but that singular time was enough to have your body aching for more affection from the tall blonde woman. 

Most of this you wrote about in your messages. The messages she couldn’t even be bothered to open because if she did, she would realize you missed her so. That you would leave as soon as you weren’t needed, and that you would return to her arms as fast as humanly possible. 

“Good morning, Mother.” Your voice was softer than usual, it always was around your mother nowadays, scared that any other tone would disrupt the mourning process she had begun. 

Her voice was weak, frail. Throat hoarse from crying, “Good morning. Just wanted to see if you were awake.” She did this every morning. Checking up on you. She did it when you were growing up and continued doing so when you returned. It was an even more comforting action this time around, serving as a reminder that you had each other to lean on. 

“I am, have you eaten?” Your mother's eating habits had been on the rocks lately, too busy with the business that she simply forgot to eat, sometimes she didn’t want to, her appetite gone. So, you asked her, every day, if she had eaten. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes she said no. 

“Yes. Have you?”  

You hummed in response to her question, “I ate when I woke up, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just need to gear up.” 

Your mother nodded, “I will wait for you in the carriage.” With this, she turned around and left. Making her descent down the carpet-clad stone stairs. 

After closing the door, you walked to your armor stand by your window that overlooked the Summer Sea and began removing each piece, attaching them to your form. 

As you put on your leather armor, you watched as ships of many different sizes sailed past your window, floating on the sea in the searing hot Dorne sun. The sun's rays invaded your room, casting it a beautiful golden glow, and warming your skin; the pleasant smell of the sea like a comforting blanket over you. 

Some of the sailing ships came from the west and some from the east. Some were sailing for trading companies, and some were sailing for travel. Their flags and sails fluttered in the warm air, hulls breaking through the water. 

Eventually, all the leather gear had been secured to your form, the last part had been your sword, and with everything in place, you abandoned your room; briskly walked down the same stairs your mother had, and stepped out into the warmth of the morning. 

Your mother stood by the carriage, conversing with the coachman. The sight of you approaching interrupted their conversation, the coachman opening the door to the roofed wheelhouse. Allowing your mother to enter and closing it once she had sat down inside. 

The carriage did not have any windows except for some small springs, meaning you didn’t have a good view of the scenery and environment around you. So, to make sure you were able to keep a look out for potential dangers, you sat up front with the coachman. 

You did not mind doing so however, he was a very interesting man with many stories to tell and you often enjoyed the chats you had with him. 

The ride to Planky Town wasn’t long, your ancestors chose to settle in Lemonwood for the short travel distance, taking into account that the port was a regular visit. 

On the way there you passed several travelers, and you recognized most of them as inhibitors of the other nearby settlements. You didn’t know any of them particularly well, only having met them a few times during formal events. Still being familiar with them and wanting to show civility; short pleasantries were exchanged before continuing your journey. 

It didn’t take long for the lively sound of the now awake port town to reach you, the familiar sight of the Greenblood river opening its mouth in front of you, running out into the vast sea. 

As every Sunday, it was reserved for shipment collection, meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as it usually was the rest of the weekdays. Despite this, there was still a large number of people going about their business of resupplying or trading. 

The coachman stopped your carriage a distance away from the docks as he usually did to prevent blocking the road. He stepped off to open the door for your mother, who had stayed silent during the ride as she usually did. 

You stepped off after him, watching your mother exit the wheelhouse, and walked up to her side, hand on the hilt of your sword and back straight. You were here as a traders’ child, yes, but you were also a knight. 

It wasn’t often that you were asked to make your rounds down here, yet on rare occasions you were. Even when you weren’t here on such business you still wanted to keep up appearances, you knew Brienne would. 

Shooting your coachman a nod and a smile, you linked your mothers' arm with your own and started trekking toward the docked ships. “Is it the usual today?” Wanting to make conversation, you asked your mother something that would pull her out of the damaging mindset she had surely found herself in. 

“Yes. Meet the shipment, and see that everything is as it should, some is unloaded here to be sold, rest is shipped to other port towns to be distributed by our partners.” It was like clockwork by now, and you knew it by heart, your mother knew that you did and found it kind of you to ask. She knew why you did and appreciated the distraction from her thoughts. 

A quick hum was all you gave in response, your steps taking you closer to the harbor until you reached the docked trader ship. Letting go of your mother's arm you turned to look at her, “I will stay on land and take a look around. Wait here until I come back.” 

She gave a quick nod before she stepped onto the wooden vessel, you saw your mother meet the captain and he in turn gave her the inventory list for her to check off. You began turning on your heel to walk away but before you could, something caught your eye. A ship from the royal fleet. 

It hadn’t been the ship in itself that stopped you, it had been the person you saw on board it. You had seen her faster than you cared to admit, almost like your eyes had been searching for her. 

She was standing as robust as she had done the first time you saw her when you first arrived in Winterfell. Her hands behind her back, the wind blowing through her short blonde curls; the white fabric that draped down her figure danced in the Summer Sea wind. 

She stood on the quarter deck, donned in her gold-white armor that reflected the sunlight, she looked so handsome in it, so at home. She was a White Sword, this you were aware of, but you were still nonplussed to see it, to have it verified. 

You were so used to seeing her in her dark armor. The dark armor that she had worn during the duration of your stay, the armor that you had begun to associate with her. Seeing her in anything else but, was an abnormal sight. 

As the ship inched closer and closer to the docks, you saw that there was detailing on her chest piece, a raven. Fitting for the three-eyed ravens' Kings Guard. 

From what you could percept, Oathkeeper still sat loyally at her side, and you wondered how she had taken the news of Ser Jaime's death. You knew that they had been... relatively close, she had described their relationship as ‘an unexpected companionship,’ which was really her fancy (and courteous) way of saying ‘it was a war, he was an extra sword, we spent time together because we had to.’ 

Truth was, Brienne didn’t take the announcement of his passing that hard. Still too focused on the loss of you. In her mind, she had tolerated Jaime, not seeing him as a close friend, and therefore did not feel the need to mourn him. 

The grief from your departure was still a fresh wound in her heart and even if she did feel the need to shed tears for him, it would be too overwhelming to do so for two people at the same time, and she refused to put you aside to lament Jaime Lannister who meant so little to her. So, it was an easy choice for her. You took precedence over everything else. 

You were frozen in place, watching her as she stood tall and proud. Anger bubbled up inside of your chest, along with sadness and betrayal. Yet at the same time, you were so gleeful to see her again after such a long time, and even though you wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace; the fact that she hadn’t responded to your ravens in months stood true. 

You didn’t want to see her, and you did not want to speak with her. With the feelings running amuck inside of you, you feared that if put face to face with her you’d say some things that you couldn’t take back. Hurting her even more than you had already done; ruining any chances of ever reconciliating and returning to each other's arms. For now, the best choice was to leave and blend in with the crowd before she could spot you, but it was too late. 

The second her ship had docked, and she had stepped onto land, she had seen you. Her intense blue eyes locked on to yours and the moment they did, they flashed with what looked like regret and guilt. 

It was too much to handle, the same blue irises that kept you up at night, that haunted your dreams, were now staring at you in such a way that made your heart twist inside of your chest. 

Her mouth was hanging open the tiniest bit, eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised to see you. If there weren’t so many thoughts swirling around in your head, you were sure that you would match her expression, shocked to see her down here. Shocked to see her at all. 

Your head was a battle arena, your thoughts fighting, trying to bring you back to your senses, to help you make a decision, and fast. The one who ended up coming on top was the one for before, the one telling you to leave; the one telling you to run to her getting left in the mud. 

You started to walk towards the crowd, planning to disappear in the swirl of people but Brienne was taller than most people there and was able to periscope over everyone, meaning you and your Dornish leather armor stood out like a beacon on a dark night. 

She started to follow you, Podrick trailing behind her trying to keep up with her broad strides. The continuous stream of people helped with keeping a distance between the three of you, but there were only so many traders and merchants, and you eventually reached a clearing, close to where your carriage was parked. 

There was no hiding from her now. 

The familiar voice of Brienne called your name, shivers running down your spine at hearing it for the first time in five months. You had forgotten what she sounded like, just how beautiful and deep her voice was, how the accent compliments it in the most fantastic way, working in harmony to make everything she said sound like poetry. 

“Stop!” you didn’t obey her command, instead, you kept moving forward. Her steps picked up, her long legs faster than yours, and before you could process her closing in on you, her hand grabbed your wrist, pulling at it slightly causing you to abruptly stop, and turn around. 

Suddenly, the only thing in your vision was her piercing eyes as they searched your face for any sign of forgiveness, love, or adoration; only finding the same stone-cold expression you had worn when your eyes met minutes ago. 

She had hoped that her proximity and touch would bring back the soft expression you used to have for her. It did not. Instead, you rejected her touch. Ripping your wrist away from her grasp, almost aggressively so, almost like her touch was hot coal burning you through your protective leather gear. 

She gazed down at you, a silent plea behind them for you to speak to her, to say anything. Just wanting to hear your voice. You in return stared up defiantly at her, displaying your anger by taking a step back, distancing yourself from her. She took this as a confirmation that you had become repulsed by her, just like everyone else; her weakness and pure selfishness had caused you to despise her. 

In truth, the moment she had gotten close, the all too addicting scent of her had invaded your senses, making it so much harder to stay focused. The step back was to display anger, yes, but also to step away from the inebriation that was the smell of Brienne. 

“Ser Brienne.” You spoke stiffly, your face full of indifference. She remained neutral, but to you, she was an open book. The way you said her name hadn’t gone unnoticed by the blonde, and you saw the flash of hurt in her eyes when you said her name. The usual affection you held for her wasn’t there anymore, and she completely understood why. 

She opened her mouth to say something, getting interrupted by Podrick before she could, “It’s actually Lord Commander-” Brienne held up a hand, successfully interrupting him back, but not before you heard her new title. Lord Commander, huh? 

“Ser Podrick! Do you not recognize them?” So, this was the Podrick you had heard so much about. He was shorter than you expected him to be, but maybe that was because he stood next to one of the tallest people in Westeros; she made anyone look short. 

She had broken your eye contact to stare at the younger knight with her usual glare. He looked at you once again, observing you. The second it clicked; his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh.’ He cleared his throat before mumbling a silent apology to both you and Brienne. 

“Go and wait for the shipment. Leave us.” The Lord Commanders' voice was harsh, leaving no room for objections. 

“Yes, My Lord.” He rushed off, leaving you and Brienne alone. She turned her head back to yours the instant Podrick disappeared out of sight into the flow of people. 

“Lord Commander?” The voice that exited your mouth was incredulous. You couldn’t believe your ears. She had been appointed the highest position in the King's Guard and secured a spot on the King's Council, and you hadn’t been informed. The love of your life hadn’t told you of a major update in her life. 

“Yes.”  

“You were appointed Lord Commander of the King's Guard and I find out today. How long?” You almost did not want to ask. Not wanting to know how long she had been keeping this from you. 

You hoped she would say 'a couple of weeks’ or ‘about a month’ because then you would understand the lack of communication. You were understanding of the task of taking on a new title and the job that came with it. If she was in the beginning phases, you would have understood. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite. 

“About four months...” 

“Four months-! You are unbelievable, Lord Commander.” You spat her title back at her, there was such wretchedness in your voice, such wrath. What you had feared was just a couple words ahead, the fear that you would say something that would be irreversible. There was no closing the gates of Hell now. 

“Please just call me Brienne, like you used to.” Her voice had shifted into a gentler one, attempting to diffuse the situation. You scoffed at her. Was she really trying to ‘go back to the way it used to be’ after making no effort in communicating with you at all? 

“I don’t know if I want to refer to you as anything anymore.” There it was. The gates had been opened, and anything coming out after this was meant to hurt. Meant to drive a knife into her stomach and twist it. Disbelief spread through your being, so irritated at her for just assuming you’d forget everything that had happened. Both of which were perceivable in your tone. 

“Please, if you would just let me explain-” Desperation was evident in her voice, her entire face softening, her eyes imploring for you to please listen, to please forgive her. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her excuses; not before you had said your piece. 

“Explain what, huh? Explain how you couldn’t let go of your pride to send me something back? A simple ‘hello, it is I, Brienne of Tarth,’” you tried your best to copy her speaking voice, it falling short, “once a month would have sufficed because then I would have known that you were alive!”  

You took a breath before continuing, keeping your voice steady, tears threatening to well up. 

“Instead, I had to get that sign of life from Sansa! Do you understand how much that pained me? That you could not let go of your stubbornness for two seconds to let me know of your damn relocation to Kings Landing by yourself! Why?” Glaring up at her, you panted, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to read about your life without me…” Her voice was quiet, almost like she was ashamed to admit her reasons for not responding. At her admission, your wrath eased up. You weren’t furious at her anymore, but there was still the agonizing pain of being ignored by someone who you love so much, and whom you care for so. “I know, it was unreasonable, irrational, intolerant of me. I am aware.” 

She continued her explanation, “I really wanted to, read your messages, that is. Because I missed you terribly, and love you so, but it would have hurt too much. Then after I was appointed my new position and title I had so much to do, and I was so stressed, and I didn’t have the time to reply.” She was trying her best to stay strong, or at least for it to look like she was but she was moments away from a breakdown. 

You kept eye contact the entire time, seeing when tears were starting to form in her eyes, and you were suddenly extremely aware of how exposed you two were. “I’m sorry.” Her last words were a whisper, barely audible, voice breaking. 

She then broke eye contact, tilting her head down, fixing her gaze on the sandy ground. You glanced around you, seeing that your carriage was only a couple of feet away. It gave you the perfect escape plan. 

You took her by the hand, dragging her towards your carriage with a quick ‘come with me.’ The sudden, unexpected contact made Brienne’s head snap up, meeting the back of your head with her blurry vision. She needed privacy, you couldn’t let everyone see the Lord Commander break down in public, so you had to shelter her. It also provided you with a quieter place to speak. 

You asked the coachman to go make himself busy before ushering Brienne into the wheelhouse, you following suit, closing and locking the door behind you. Quickly covering all the springs in your immediate vision with its individual curtain. 

The second you sat down across from her, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands as loud sobs wrecked through her, much like the ones you had heard by the stables as you rode away. 

Your anger and pain had quickly subsided when you had heard her entire reasoning, and when you saw how guilty she felt. There was no need to be mad at her, you didn’t think you could be anymore. 

Relieving yourself from your sword sheathe, you pondered, unsure if you should remain seated across from her, or if you should move to sit by her side. You couldn’t comfort her all those months ago, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do it now. 

Quickly maneuvering across the carriage, you took a seat next to Brienne, taking off her scabbard before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to you, her becoming flush against your side. She hadn’t expected the abrupt intimacy, it was a welcome one, especially after feeling nothing for so many days. 

Her arms flew around your waist, her face burying itself into your leather-covered chest. Your free hand came up to Brienne’s head, softly stroking her hair as the other gently caressed her upper arm. Her armor made it a little lumpy, but you did not care. Having her back in your arms after so long was an incredible feeling, and you couldn’t believe how you had made it this long without her warmth. 

Her sobbing was relentless, tears flowing down her face and dropping onto your legs. Your leather tasset had gradually shifted down the side of your upper thighs in your seated position, revealing your tunic trousers underneath. 

Brienne repeated the same phrase, over and over again through wails. Saying how sorry she was, how she hoped you could forgive her. You in turn answered with reassurance. Telling her that you accepted her apology, that she was forgiven. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Brienne’s cries eventually died down, rendering the small space silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from the blonde beside you. Her head had been removed from your chest and she now sat upright. You still had your arm around her, hand resting on her armored bicep. 

The hand that had been stroking her hair was now holding hers, entwined hands resting in between yours and Brienne’s thighs. Your thumb lazily drawing lines on the scarred skin. 

“Are you alright?” The softness had returned to your voice, the love and tenderness had as well, and the Commander noticed. She was soothed by your question because it meant you still cared enough to check in on her. That lit a light in Brienne’s tunnel of misery; there was still something left to save, to rebuild. 

“Yes. Especially now that I’m back in your arms.” She turned her head to look at you, you doing the same and offering her a soft smile which she returned. As you took in her tear-stained face and red puffy eyes, you were smacked with the remembrance of your earlier words, words that shouldn’t have been uttered. 

  “I’m really sorry for what I said back there. I was filled with fury, and I didn’t mean it. I always want to refer to you, dear Brienne.” Voice low to avoid disrupting the peace, your voice was gentler. A strong contrast to the cutting tone you had used outside. You brought her held hand up to your face to place a peck on the back of it, relishing in the feeling of her skin against your lips once again. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you either way.” You dropped yours and Brienne’s hands into your lap and released a sigh of relief hearing her words. Silence settled in again as you gazed into each other's eyes. The blonde's sapphire blues darted down to your lips and back up to your eyes, just like they had that night in the courtyard almost one year ago. She wanted to kiss you, and you needed her to. “You know, I really did miss you. A lot.” It was nothing more than a whisper, a breath of desire. 

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too. Now shut up and kiss me, please.” Brienne giggled at your eagerness and avidity and was quick to oblige to your wish. She turned her body towards you, legs shifting to be able to face you as comfortably as possible, hand coming up to cup your cheek, head diving in fast to capture your lips, eyes falling shut before colliding. 

The second her lips connected with yours, a contented and allayed moan escaped Brienne’s throat. She had longed for, craved, and missed you for so many months, all the tension and sorrow built up inside of her melting away the moment your lips touched. It was even more heavenly than she had recalled. One of your hands flew up to the side of her neck, your body shifting to copy the way she sat. 

It was like you never left, lips moving together in familiarity. Brienne’s tongue swiped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it. Her wet, strong muscle started exploring your mouth the second you parted your lips. The feeling of her tongue wrestling with yours along with the familiar taste of her, made you release a low moan; she tasted even better than you had remembered. 

The taste of you, the feeling of your tongue sliding against hers, your soft whimpers as she expertly moved her lips with yours like a dance, elegant and controlled like a waltz, but passionate and heated like a tango. A dance of the love and yearning you contained for the other. All of it took over her senses, her brain going into overdrive, her mewling against your lips. 

The hand that was holding on to Brienne’s broke away from the grasp, moving to find purchase in the blonde's hair. It was already disheveled from the salty ocean wind, hair slightly curled from the humidity in the air; your hand running through it wouldn’t make it worse. It wouldn’t be odd for her hair to be out of place considering the strong coast gust. 

Your fingers started at the nape of her neck, slowly moving upwards until they stopped at the back, curling them in her tresses, gathering a fistful of her hair in your hand. Brienne hummed against your mouth at the feeling of your digits in her hair once again, and the hand that had been abandoned by yours grabbed onto your waist, palm gently resting on your side. 

Your lips pulled apart, but you still kept the contact, foreheads leaning against the others, eyes shut as you regained your breath. “I really did miss you. I was hoping to show you just how much...” Brienne spoke between heavy breaths. 

You did not miss the glint of seduction in her voice or the innuendo. During the make-out session the all too familiar heat grew between your legs and your body craved her touch, as it had for months. But right here, in a carriage in a port town when you both had responsibilities? 

“Brienne...” Breathing out her name and meaning to remind her of your current area; you weren’t able to complete the rest of your sentence before she interrupted you. 

“Look at me,” you removed your head from hers and opened your eyes, meeting Brienne’s that were already staring back at you, her blue irises as deep and breathtaking as the galaxy, filled with stars and planets of her own. They were truly remarkable and gorgeous; fitting for someone like her. “I have craved you for so long. I don’t know how long it will be until we meet again. Let me make it up to you. Let me erase the past five months of misery. Let me do this so we can have something to last us until we can guarantee proximity to each other. Please.” 

The hand in her blonde curls transferred to her cheek, gently holding and stroking her flushed skin with your thumb. Her eyes were pleading as was her voice, wanting to remove the memories of pain and replace them with ones of pleasure; and you wanted that too. 

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before nodding, “that sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more.” At your confirmation, Brienne’s lips turned up into the biggest grin much like the one she wore after your first kiss, and she was on her knees on the wooden floor shortly after; her hands resting on your legs. 

“I’ve never done this before. All I know is that I want to make you feel good.” She gazed up at you as she spoke. She was insecure, as was obvious in her voice and her eyes, but also determined, not letting uncertainty scare her away. “Tell me if it feels good and what I can do to bring you maximum pleasure.” 

“I will.” 

The woman on her knees before you started undressing you. Starting with your boots, before wedging her hands under your leather chest cover to unstrap your tasset that was hindering access to the buckle of your trousers. 

Throwing a look at the door to the carriage to make sure it was locked, you noticed that one of the springs hadn’t been covered by the sheer curtain. As you stood up to close it, Brienne’s fingers undid the metal of your pants, pulling them down at the same time as you pulled the curtain down. 

You were now completely out of sight; the problem was, so was the outside world, and if your mother decided to forego your escort to make the trek back herself; she’d find you in one hell of a position. 

You prayed to the old Gods and the new that your mother would stay put, or that inventory would take longer than usual so that she didn’t hear you reconnecting with your love. Sure, she knew about Brienne and the relationship you had, it was one of the first things you had talked about when you got home, but you didn’t want your mothers' first impression of the much taller knight to be her in between your legs. 

Brienne’s hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled down, causing you to meet the seat with an unexpected speed, she was impatient, and you understood why. She had already spent too much time away from her mission and Podrick, and sooner or later, he would come looking for her, and would no doubt find her considering her last known position and your family’s carriage being mere feet away. Time was of the essence, and you couldn’t afford to waste any of it. 

Heavy breathing came from the woman in front of you as she placed her hands back onto your knees and gently spread them, being faced with your soaked underwear. She had never seen your sex before, felt it, sure, but never seen. She hadn’t tasted you either and she was practically drooling at the thought of finally doing so. 

Tentative and curious hands slowly traveled up your legs, stopping at the hem of your undergarments. Hooking her fingers inside and motions for you to elevate your hips slightly. Lifting your hips for easy discarding, she pulled them down in one motion, revealing your needy cunt to her hungry, dilated eyes. 

She was if in a trance, watching with such intensity you feared her eyes would pop out of her skull. You nudged her shoulder with your knee, causing her to snap her gaze to yours. Her pupils were blown-out, darkened from lust and desire. The air was thick inside of the small space and you could practically sense her ferocity as it emanated from her person.  

She looked so pretty like this on her knees for you, looking up at you with virtuous eyes. So ready and willing to serve; to satisfy your needs. Reaching out a hand, you took hold of her chin, guiding her face closer to your core, she needed a little helping hand. “You look so good right now, pretty girl. On your knees for me. So ready to do whatever I wish, hmm.” 

Brienne could only offer a nod in response, your words and low, vibrating voice combined with your dominating tone. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would give out and she’d fall to the floor. But since she already was kneeling on the wooden boards, she gave out a tiny whine instead, forgetting just how much power your words had over her. 

The scent of your arousal was overwhelming, your pussy radiating such heat, Brienne being able to sense it all when you had brought her face close enough to the apex of your inner thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to taste you, something she had wanted for such a long time; completely missing out on her chance before you left. She thought she had all the time in the world with you, how was she supposed to know you were leaving the same night she had intended to feast on you. 

So, the fact remained: you had tasted her; she hadn’t tasted you and she was so desperate to finally know how your wet flesh would feel against her tongue. Desperate to gain familiarity with the sensation she thought she would have experienced months ago when she had planned it. 

After you had eaten her out and gotten into bed together, her mind had started wondering what you’d taste like and that she’d propose to perform oral on you the next day during your midnight meeting, but then you left, and she never did find out what you tasted like. 

Finally, five months later. She would finally know just how wonderful you’d taste. 

“Use your tongue, my sweet girl. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts.” You stroked Brienne’s skin softly before sliding your hand to the back of her head, leg coming up to lay on her shoulder, foot resting on her back. Your other hand was placed beside you, using the seat as support. 

She licked her lips, mumbling ‘what a pretty little pussy’ before finally diving in, shutting her eyes, and allowing her intuition to take over. She licked a careful stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling it slowly before closing her mouth around it, lightly sucking. Her tongue was a godsend, so strong and oh was she good at using it. 

You released a soft whimper, mindful to keep quiet considering your whereabouts but still wanting to let her know just how good she was making you feel. Your head leaned against the wall behind you, but your eyes were locked on Brienne’s between your legs, moving slightly as she used her skillful mouth on you. 

Your fingers grabbed at her hair, wanting to hold her in place as her tongue flicked over your clit and you refrained from pushing her closer; wanting her to do it on her own terms. You were sure that if she made you come with minimal help from you, her confidence would boost and that would exponentially heighten the chances of her giving head more often in the future, maybe even initiate it. 

Even though you wanted her to learn by doing, she had requested you to tell her how to make you feel good, and that was what you intended to do. 

Her arms were snaked around your thighs, hands resting where hip and leg met. She switched between sucking and licking, sometimes doing both, drawing out all kinds of noises from you. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” Even when she was pleasuring you, she was still submissive and in need of praise and assurance, and you were more than happy to provide all of those things for her. “Try- Try adding more pressure with your tongue.” 

A vibrating sensation exited Brienne’s mouth as she moaned against your clit at hearing your praise, causing your body to jerk and you to hold back a loud groan. She wanted to be validated, to be told she was doing a good job. This only applied to the sex part of her life, however, as she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, well, not anymore at least; her childhood self would disagree. 

The only person’s opinion she cared about besides maybe the professional opinions of her King, were yours. She wanted you to think highly and goodly of her, in all aspects of her life, be it professional, personal, or intimate, and you did. This she knew, it still felt good to hear you say it though. 

Brienne’s eyes which had been screwed shut the entire time suddenly opened, looking up at you with curious eyes. She wanted to see how you’d react to all of her following ministrations, fascination, and wonder glinting in her beautiful eyes. 

She took your advice and adjusted accordingly, placing her tongue flat on your clit with the pressure to go with and dragged her tongue up, making you drawl out a throaty moan. “Oh, Gods! Feels so fucking good, so fucking good.” Your words were slurred, your voice low to avoid it being heard by anyone else than Brienne, your heavy breaths and hums only growing more and more ragged as the woman betwixt your legs worked her wet muscle against you. 

You’d had your share of love affairs before but that was nothing compared to this. The feeling of getting eaten out by the love of your life was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Not even the meetings you used to have as a young adult in the local bathhouses felt as good as this did. 

Brienne was a beginner but a very quick learner, and she knew exactly how to pleasure you because she knew you and your body, playing it masterfully, playing it like an instrument; like she hadn’t done anything else. 

She was devoted to your pleasure, devoted to worshipping you and your pussy with her tongue. Nothing else mattered in this specific moment, only the feeling of your legs shuttering, your moany whimpers, and your fingers twisting in her hair did. 

The sounds inside the wheelhouse were right out of a brothel, moans mixed with the wet noises coming from Brienne as she used her mouth on you. She murmured against your clit, a whisper mostly to herself, but you had heard it too, “You taste so fucking good...” Her words combined with the intense eye contact made your head spin, your insides turning in the most pleasant way. 

Every stroke, lick, kiss, and suck from the blonde brought you closer to the edge of climax, the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach, legs twitching and hips bucking with every ripple of pure bliss that went through your body. The release was barreling towards you like a wild buck and you were so ready for the collision, ready to get sent into an endless vortex of pleasure. 

During the five months that you and Brienne had been apart, more and more tension began to build up inside of you, a knot forming in your stomach. You often found yourself thinking of that morning in the baths or the night before, and it never failed to make you a throbbing mess. You never found the time to rid yourself of it, so it just continued to grow, the knot only getting tighter. 

Months' worth of pent-up tension releasing would equal in an orgasm the size of a tsunami washing over you and you were made aware of this fact as the band inside of you tightened, and tightened, until it eventually snapped, untying the knot at the same time. 

Waves upon waves of ecstasy poured over you as your body convulsed with pleasure. Your back was arching, hips thrashing as you rode Brienne’s face to drag out your orgasm. Her hands that had been resting in the space between thigh and hip pushed down to keep you steadier, but still allowing you to grind against her mouth. 

The hand in the blonde hair loosened as you came down from your peak, stroking her messy curls instead, hoping to smooth down the mess you had surely made of her locks. Brienne had removed her head from your sex, drawing languid circles with her fingers on your skin. Gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at you with awe as they watched your breathing grow steady. 

The Lord Commander leaned back on her heels, your hand sliding off her head as she moved out of your reach, removing herself from your legs, sloping to grab your clothes. Her chin was covered in your juices, and you made a mental note to get that cleaned up before you left the carriage. 

She grabbed your ruined undergarments and reached out a hand to give them to you where you sat, the hand that had been placed flat on the wood beside you the entire session was brought up to push her hand away, “they’re already soaked, you might as well use them to wipe your chin.” A breathless chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, Brienne looking at you comically. 

She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before using a dry part of the cloth to dry her chin, removing any trace of your activities. She reached out a hand with them again and this time you accepted them, putting them on and wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet and cold underwear, luckily you were heading home as soon as your mother was finished, and you could change. 

Your trousers were handed to you shortly after to be put on and buckled, as well as your tasset, and finally your boots. 

“Come here.” Brienne did as she was told and shuffled close to you, kneeling down at your side so you were at eye level. “My beautiful girl,” bringing a hand up to her cheek, you traced her skin with your fingers, inching closer to her face to give her a kiss. 

It was a gentle one, soft and tender, and you could sense the taste of you on her lips. “I love you.” It was a whisper against her lips, a promise for now and the future until you could tell her every day. 

“I love you, too. I do not like the idea that we must leave each other once again,” Brienne let out a sad sigh and turned her head away from you to stare at the carriage door. You were not entirely happy with the situation either but there was nothing to be done until you were no longer needed. “Come with me.” 

Your eyes widened at her words. Had you heard her correctly? “W- What?” Shock was painted across your features, your voice trying to remain steady, but you were too taken aback to bother with that, slightly shaking with perplexity seeping through. 

She turned her head to look at you once again, her expression deadly serious. She wasn’t jesting or posing any what-ifs. “Come with me to Kings Landing. I will ask for King Bran’s attention and request for him to recruit you into the King's Guard. We need more knights, and I know you would be the perfect fit.” This was wishful thinking. The Kings Guard?  

Quickly exhaling and inhaling, your face furrowed together in empathy, you too shared her want to travel to Kings Landing and spend all eternity by her side until death released you from your vows, but your mother needed you. “Brienne, I-” 

“Yes. I know. Your mother. But, please, just. Just consider it.” Her eyes and words were begging, her eyebrows raised in hope, wishing that you’d say yes; that you’d consider it. 

“I will consider it.” The smile that spread on your Commander's lips was infectious, causing you to do the same. Her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, twinkling just the same. They really were as deep and vast as the galaxy, holding just as many uncharted and unexplored areas. 

A knocking on the door caused you and Brienne to snap out of your staring competition, instinctively putting distance between each other, you shooting over to the other side and retrieving your scabbard, the woman across from you doing the same with hers. 

The muffled voice of the coachman came from the outside, signaling that you had been in there for far too long, “Ser! I think your mother is all finished and ready to leave. Is everything alright in there?” You took a quick look at Brienne, her curls strewn across her forehead, and you motioned for her to comb her fingers through her locks to tidy it up a little. 

“Yes, everything is quite alright. We are finished and are coming out. Thank you!” You and Brienne snorted at you using ‘finished’ considering you did just that, you were acting a little immature, laughing at such a thing; but you felt like young adults sneaking around and that earned a tiny bit of immaturity. 

The woman sharing your space looked at you questionably, a silent query asking ‘does my hair look okay?’ you nodding as an answer. 

Quickly pulling aside all the curtains inside the wheelhouse to let the light in, you gave Brienne one last long kiss before opening the door and stepping out into the hot Dorne sun. Your coachman stood outside, eyeing you both, obviously wondering what had taken so long but decided not to ask. 

“Walk with me?” Turning your head to look up at her, Brienne only nodded, letting you take the first step and her following you with steps to match your stride. She often did this when you walked together, coordinating her pace with yours so she wouldn’t race ahead and you not being able to keep up. It was a slight adjustment, but a very thoughtful one. 

When you approached the water-bound vessel your mother was on, she wore the biggest grin as she looked from you to Brienne, her expression a drastic change from the melancholic mood she had adopted as her default since your father passed. 

It was unnerving seeing such a display of teeth after only seeing a frown for so long, but you assumed she recognized the taller woman beside you based on your very detailed explanations of her appearance.  

Your mother stepped off the ship, the captain she had spoken to earlier barking orders to his men to ready the ship so they could transport the rest of the wares as she reached land. 

Brienne had stopped her walk, the same as you, still by your side a couple of feet away from your mother. Close enough that you could hear each other over the cacophony of people, but far enough that your mother wouldn’t be able to tell what you had been doing. 

“Brienne, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lord Commander Brienne.” Your mother had her head slightly cocked to the side, a caring and loving look on her face as you introduced them to each other.  

The situation in which you had told your parents about Brienne had been completely unplanned. It had been on a hot night shortly after your arrival by your father's bedside as he asked you about Winterfell. 

It had only really been a simple question of what your obligations had been, however, the second you had mentioned Brienne’s name, your mother grew intrigued, wanting to probe and prod after hearing the tone and manner of words you used when speaking about the then Ser. 

Her clever questions and your oblivious answers caused you to reveal more than you had intended to, and suddenly your parents knew all about the nature of your relationship.  

“M’Lady.” Your knightly blonde stayed as formal as always to leave a good first impression. Giving your mother a more drawn-out nod, she left her head tilted down longer than she usually did, deciding to be more casual in her greeting considering the fact that it was your parent. 

“So, you’re Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brienne took a panicked glance at you, hoping you hadn’t spoken about the five months of errors on her end that would surely not be appreciated by your mother. You only gave her a reassuring smile back. 

“Just Brienne is fine, and only good things, I hope.” The worry in her voice was obvious to you, it goes unnoticed by your mother. Brienne was good at hiding her true reactions to things when the situation called for it, and this was definitively one of those situations. 

“Brienne it is. Positive things only, my dear. The joy you have brought my child is unmeasurable, and I am so grateful.” A goofy smile spread on the blonde woman's lips, a combination of relief and glee at learning that you had abstained from telling your mother about her shortcomings, if she did know; Brienne was sure your mother wouldn’t be as friendly as she currently was towards her. 

“They have brought me the same amount, M’Lady. Your child is truly exceptional, never met anyone quite like them.” Brienne’s smile changed into a sincere one as she spoke, her voice filled with warmth. Seeing them interact so effortlessly made you all giddy, staring at the tall Commander beside you with a lovestruck expression. 

“Why don’t you come back to Lemonwood with us, Brienne. Have supper with us, maybe spend a few nights at our residence, we’d love to host you.” This was really an excuse for your mother to spend time with your knight, to get to know the person her child had fallen madly in love with. 

If your father were still alive, you were sure he would sit right beside your mother as they asked Brienne question after question. The image in your mind made you smile fondly. Your father really would have loved to meet her, they would find that their opinions matched on many different matters. 

“That sounds very pleasant, and I would love to accept but I am afraid I am unable to. I need to get back to Kings Landing.” The twinge of sadness in her words did not stay hidden from either you or your mother. The reminder that time was not on your side bared itself once again, and no number of prayers could change the fact that you and Brienne had to part. 

“Yes, of course. How unfortunate. Perhaps another time?” Your mother did not back down, she laid out a long-standing offer, meaning that sooner or later, Brienne would sit at her dinner table, and she’d be able to learn all about the mysterious woman before her. 

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. Perhaps if I am dispatched to Dorne for a longer period of time.” You could tell that Brienne was being polite, yet she seemed genuine in her words. The moment she’d set foot inside the walls of your home, you were sure she would come to regret taking your mother up on the offer. She liked her privacy, and your mother liked prodding. Them together was not a feasible pairing. 

“Of course, just send a raven ahead of time so we can prepare, other than that you are always welcome to our home. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Brienne.” She liked the pretty knight, you could tell. You could also tell that she was itching to get on the road, ready to talk your ear off and tease you about your behavior around the blonde. 

It was all with good intentions, something she did when you were young and had an infatuation with someone. 

“You too, M’Lady.” 

“Safe travels.” She spoke her final words to Brienne before shifting her attention to you, “I will give you two a moment, come find me when you’re done.” With this, she walked back to the still-docked ship she had previously been on, spectating as the crewmen scattered around on deck to get everything ready for departure. 

You turned to look at Brienne, her doing the same, a crestfallen expression gracing her features. Your face matching hers, “I sent Bartholomew off with another message this morning. Reply this time, please.” 

“Bartholomew?” Even though she was incredibly disheartened, an amused and quizzical look took over her face. 

“Yes. One of our message ravens. His real name is Branoc, but I named him Bartholomew the Raven the First. It was whimsical to me.” You lovingly smiled at Brienne, and she reciprocated, smiling with just as much adoration back. 

She chuckled slightly, “I see. I will read yours and send one back with Bartholomew the Raven the First. I swear, no more miscommunication.” Her words were true, no more silence from her end, no more misery. 

“Good. Well, off you go.” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to let her go, did not want to watch her leave but you were afraid there was no other choice. You could see Podrick in the distance behind Brienne, waiting for her to board the ship so they could return back. 

“I will be looking forward to hearing your decision when you have given thought to my offer. I love you. Please come back to me soon.” She was dragging this out, wanting your goodbye to last as long as possible so your time wouldn’t be cut short so soon. 

“I will try. I love you.” Gazing up into her eyes, you took her hands in yours, an action overlooked by the mass amount of people around you. “Now go. Ser Podrick is waiting for you.” 

“Farewell, for now, Ser.” Squeezing your hands, Brienne let go of them and straightened her back, hand resting on its usual place on the hilt of her sword; looking down at you with an over-enthusiastically assertive face, making you giggle a tiny bit. 

“Farewell for now, Lord Commander.” One long glance was exchanged before Brienne turned on her heels and started marching over to where Podrick was standing. The last you saw of her tall figure was her boarding the ship and her disappearing below deck. 

Walking up to your mother, you grabbed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder, her turning around to face you. “I will allow two questions on the ride back, and that is it.” Setting these boundaries with your mother rarely worked, but this time you were serious, dead set on maintaining some seclusion. 

“Two questions are all I’ll need.” 

——— 

Two weeks had passed since the events in Planky Town, and you had let it slip to your mother that Brienne had proposed to speak to the King on your behalf. A couple days after she had learned this, she miraculously didn’t need your services anymore, leaving you free to do whatever you wished. 

The first thing you did was send a raven to Brienne, telling her that you reflected on her proposal, that you accept, and to expect you the following week. 

Directly after this, you had traveled to Sunspear. Letting Prince Martell know that you would no longer be able to assist in whatever he needed. Considering you never swore your services to him and that it was purely a means to keep the ‘protect the innocents’ part of your knightly oath going; the only thing he could do was to thank you for your help and to let you leave. 

Packing whatever you needed for your trip, you said your goodbyes to your mother and later that day, you were on a ship heading for Kings Landing. It was another one of your family’s ones, and considering they were already heading up north, they allowed you to ride along in exchange for your assistance in carrying the goods, which you gladly assisted with. 

That all led to you standing at the dock of Kings Landing where the tall woman stood and awaited you. Walking up to her, you took a glance around before looking up at her with feigned confusion. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. Do you know where I could find her?” 

Brienne smiled playfully, lightly shoving your shoulder, causing you to grin up at her. “You’re not funny, you know?” 

“That smile on your face would suggest otherwise.” You were teasing her; she knew you were. You wanted to engage in small banter before diving right into serious King’s Guard business, but Brienne was eager for you to get integrated and fitted so she could take you to her private quarters and cuddle you. 

“We can continue this later. Let’s go see the King. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Brienne began leisurely trekking, you following after her. The sun reflected so perfectly in her gold plates as she journeyed towards the large gate, eventually traveling under it.

You found yourself in shadows for a brief period of time before the light hit your face as you emerged from the dark, stepping out into Fishmonger’s Square. 

From there you walked straight until you took a right, walking down The Hook and you couldn’t do much but gape at the Red Keep where it stood, large and marvelous, fit for a King of the Six Kingdoms. As you passed through the curved street, you and Brienne kept up a mindless conversation, not talking about anything important, really, just chatting, enjoying each other’s company. 

After finally, reaching the end of The Hook, you were greeted with a set of stairs, going up Aegon’s High Hill. You looked to Brienne with annoyed exhaustion, and she laughed, stating that ‘the leg muscles you get from this makes it worth it, I promise.’ She was being goofy, trying to change your expression into one less irritated, and it worked; she always knew how to make you smile like a fool. 

She motioned for you to go first, and you did, knowing that if you lost balance or fell, Brienne would be there to catch you. She, on the other hand, wanted you to go first so she could be bestowed the privilege of having your ass as her view; she would never admit that though. 

About halfway up, the knight behind you asked if you wanted to take a break, but you declined, knowing that you were almost there. Give or take a few dozen steps. Brienne shrugged, staying close to your back in case your legs gave out. Even her thighs were burning. 

Even though you walked a few steps above her, you still only reached Brienne’s forehead and she found it amusing that someone so short could have so much love, well, you were short to her; everyone was short to her. 

You ascended the very last stairstep, the Red Keep towering and looming above you. It was even more intimidating and glorious up close, and you had to crane your neck to even get remotely close to the peak of it. You had to stop yourself from releasing a ‘whoa’ but settled with subtle gawking instead; subtle being eyes and mouth wide open. 

Brienne passed your still-standing person, giggling at your amazement, “come on, you silly girl. You can revel in the spectacularism later.” You shook yourself out of your current state when hearing her fond tone, coming to join your blonde Commander by the large doors. 

Brienne entered the large building, making sure you were behind her, allowing you to step up to her side. The insides of the building were equally as grand as the outside, a home fit for a King, you thought. You refrained from commenting on the vision that was the Red Keep, but you were fairly certain your knight already knew what you were thinking by the awestruck countenance you had. 

When you entered the Throne Room, your former face had been switched to a solemn one, showing that you were a very serious knight who hadn’t been staring at the building you were currently in open-mouthed. 

There were two other people in the large space besides you and Brienne. A much shorter man with curly hair, and the King, who sat on his throne which had been moved down from its previous placement so that Bran could lift himself into it. 

Brienne leaned down to your ear, talking to you in a hushed tone, “That’s King Brandon Stark, which I assume you know. And the bloke next to him is Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister.” You only hummed in response as she rose to her full height once again. 

Tyrion had noticed the blonde's change in mood the second she had returned from Dorne. No longer staring off into nothingness and getting lost in her thoughts. No longer hiding away and sharpening every sword known to man or obsessively counting in the armory. 

He had been wondering what the cause for this sudden change in her behavior was, but now that he saw the way she looked at you, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, and how you acted the same towards her; he drew his own conclusions. He was sure to tease her about this at a later date. 

Brienne and you stopped before the King, kneeling in front of him. He called you both up to stand straight, the Lord Commander marching up to stand by her King's side, you standing firmly in place. 

“Your Grace.” You kept your eyes fixated on Bran, very aware of Brienne’s eyes on you. You could see her in the corner of your eye, she looked so exalted and heroic standing next to the King in her gold armor and white cloak. 

“Lord Brienne speaks very highly of you. She has stated very clearly that she would fight by your side and that she trusts you with her life.” You had to hold back a grin at his words, she spoke just as highly of you as you did of her, “I have heard of your accomplishments on the battlefield, and I must say that I am impressed.” 

“Thank you, Sire.”  

You had spent the journey here memorizing the oath you had to swear. It was a mighty long one, but it had eventually stuck, and you were sure it would never unstick. You didn’t quite know when you were supposed to swear it, hoping Brienne would give you some sort of signal for when it was time. 

Luckily, there was no need for that, King Bran gave you his own very clear instructions with his words, “I would be a fool to not have you in my Kings Guard, especially when my own Lord Commander was essentially bragging about your skills.” At this, Brienne’s head slumped down to hide a smile that crept up on her lush lips, she was a little bit embarrassed at him exposing her. Yet at the same time she was grateful for it because now you knew just how much she wanted you here with her unless any of her other words hadn’t been enough. “Kneel.” 

Brienne looked at you with enthusiasm, her pride for you shining brightly in the dimly lit room. She observed as you got down onto your knee once again, barely able to contain her large grin. The corners of her lips twitched, and she was sure that if either of the men beside her were to see it; they would question the reason why she actually wanted you here. She could want you here for two reasons, no? One selfish, one for the good of the kingdom. 

Your sword skills matched hers, and to have you next to her would put her so much more at ease. She was well aware that she was an exceptional sword fighter, but to have two with the same skill was calming, knowing that you would both go through hell and high water to get back to the other alive.  

Having such a drive force can be lifesaving in dire and lethal situations, especially when your job is to protect the King; riots hadn’t been uncommon in the past, but hopefully, there would be none now that there was new and better leadership. 

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

What you didn’t seem to notice even though you kept your eyes fixed on Bran, was his slight eyebrow quirk at the fact that you chose to replace father with mother, but wife remained, just as it had with Brienne’s oath. 

“Arise.” 

Brienne practically beamed at you as you got up from your knee, almost overzealously volunteering to take you to your fitting when Bran and Tyrion started discussing it. The shorter one of the two stared at her with an astute look, mouthing ‘real smooth, Lord Brienne,’ a teasing smile on his face. 

The tall blonde shot him one of her signature glares in return, staring at him pointedly and he knew he was going to have fun messing with her about this. Maybe he’ll ask her if she’s still a virgin, maybe her answer had changed since the last time he asked. He was sure it had, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

“Your Grace. I will take our newest recruit for measurements, then show them their quarters. Leave it to me.” Bran didn’t think much of Brienne’s willingness, he thought her to be a strange character sometimes and this was one of those times. He just simply nodded to show that she was sanctioned to do just that. 

“Lord Commander. Ser. You are both dismissed.” Brienne trotted over to your side, ready to lead you away from the large room. 

“Yes. Your Grace.” Speaking unanimously, you and the tall blonde bowed before taking your exit. Side by side, you roamed the regal halls of the Red Keep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring in wonderment again, nearing the exit of said building. 

Brienne found your extreme fascination and wonder endearing, her heart fluttering at your childlike enthusiasm and admiration, her insides all warm, her stomach filling with butterflies as she watched your wonderstruck face. 

The descent of the stairs was much more forgiving than the ascent and you had found yourself walking down The Kings Road that winded through Kings Landing, and as you walked, Brienne explained to you that you had two stops to make, one at the armorer for measurements for your new plates and gambeson, and a second at the tailor, for new tunics and trousers, but also for your long white cloak. 

She spoke to you the entire time about what she had been up to the five months you were apart, stating that it was too much to be written on paper, as you navigated the streets of Kings Landing to make your errands. 

It all went smoothly and eventually, Brienne had taken you to the White Sword Tower, where your chambers were located. “I managed to get your room next to mine, so we can easily sneak in between if we wish.” Her voice was hushed and her tone mischievous as she showed you her quarters, and then yours. You smiled at her words; she hadn’t changed one bit. 

“Come into mine. I wish to show you something.” Suddenly her voice and face turned candid, opening the door to her room and allowing you to walk in before her, closing it after entering the quarters herself. 

She immediately walked up to her hearth, starting a warming and crackling fire, and then moved to the armor stand in her room, beginning the removal process of each piece of her golden plates. 

You couldn’t help but look at the back of her head with a puzzled expression. It was getting close to sunset, but not close enough to warrant Brienne unstrapping her armor. She usually kept it on until bedtime, and it was still light outside. 

Continuing her process, she spoke to you, voice soft and tender, “Go look in that book over there.” She twitched her head quickly, motioning you in the direction she wanted you to go. 

Walking over to her bed table, your eyes landed on a book. Brienne didn’t seem like the type of person who would be interested in dramatic literature. “The book isn’t of importance; I just picked a random one. Look inside.” 

You looked back at Brienne, only having her gambeson left to remove, but had stopped for a second to turn her head to look at you, offering an encouraging smile. Shifting your gaze back to the book, you picked it up and opened the worn-out leather cover. The paper inside seemed to stare back at you with accusing eyes. 

It was tear-stained, obvious marks on the spots the Lord Commander’s tears had landed. You were almost certain about what the parchment was, your speculations were only confirmed when you removed it from the pages and unfolded it; your handwriting from five months ago glaring at you. 

“You kept it?” This was surely a painful memory for Brienne, why she opted to keep it you did not know. The evidence of her evening cries was clear on the slightly ripped note; she must’ve read this every single day. 

“Yes.” She was finally finished with her armor and gambeson and moved to join you by her bed. “I needed to have something of yours, and this was all I had.” She stopped in front of you, gently taking the book and letter from your hands, placing them back on the bed table before grabbing hold of your hands. “I read it every single night, desperately trying to remember your voice. But I- I couldn’t.” 

Her gaze shifted from yours to the floor, and you were hit with a surge of woe seeing her evade your eyes. You did not know why she felt the need to do so. Was she ashamed that she had forgotten your voice? Or maybe embarrassed admitting that she read your letter every night even if it reminded her of the dark winter evening by the stables? You did not know, and you didn’t want to ask, not now at least. 

“Darling,” one of your hands tangled itself out of Brienne’s to softly lift her chin up, so you could look into her magnificent irises. “I forgot your voice too. No matter, though. We’ll be able to hear each other's voice every day from now on.” She smiled down at you with sad eyes, an unasked question in the air that you both wanted to ask, the taller woman being the actual one to ask it. 

“Will you let me hold you, please? I wish to hold you.” It was almost like she was shy, acting like it was the beginning stage of your relationship once again, and in a way it kind of was. You were in need of her warmth, her closeness, and the strong enveloping of her large and long arms. For her to hold you tight and never let go, desperate to be back in her embrace once again. 

You responded by kissing her tenderly on her lips, removing your hand from her chin, and using the one still in her hand to drag her down onto the bed with you. Both you and Brienne were still fully clothed, an error that needed to be resolved; you wanted to feel her hot skin against yours once again like you had done so many moons ago. “I want to feel your bare flesh against mine, please.” 

Brienne watched you lovingly and fondly, nodded, and started to remove her clothing, stripping down to her undergarments. It was nothing sexual, just the need to feel the entirety of her against you; an animalistic urge to feel a sense of security. You followed suit, undressing with haste, folding up your clothes, and placing them next to hers at the foot of the bed. 

Your blonde knight in shining armor crawled under the covers and laid down on her side, holding the fur up for you so you could do the same. Lifting up the same arm that had been holding the cover as you did. 

She wasted no time in slinging the same limb around you when you had laid down next to her, pulling you close to her, your back against her front. Her face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. 

Her strong musk and arms encompassed you, the faint and familiar smell of fresh grass and light sweat overwhelming your senses once again. You were completely intoxicated by her proximity, you couldn’t think, your mind was scrambled, heart racing. 

She started pressing soft kisses to your skin, supple lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, making you release a sigh. Brienne whispered against your skin, her breath slightly tickling you. “Tell me what you did in Dorne during the five months we were apart. Catch me up, please.” You were more than happy to. 

As you started to recount the events that had occurred over the past five months, Brienne’s hold around you tightened, attempting to have you even closer to her which at this point was impossible. There was barely any space left between you, not even a small air pocket. 

Your legs were tangled with her incredibly long ones, fingers drawing mindless circles on her arm as you told her about your journey to Dorne, your father’s passing, and your family’s trader business. 

Brienne hummed every once in a while, to let you know that she was listening, her arm around you strong like cement. As she pressed a barely felt but burning kiss to the skin behind your ear, you realized that you were finally back where you were always meant to be. 

In Brienne’s arms.

–––

taglist: (give me a shout if you wish to be removed)

@na-shoba

@pastanest

@the-fuck-do-i-know

@mayfair-fleur

@idontlikepexple

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

[lunarw0rks]

Torn | Part Two

Summary: You're Philip Graves' secret lover, and it's complicated, to say the least. When your new 141 ally, Simon Riley, catches your eye, you're forced to make a decision.

Warning(s): canon-typical violence, strong language, death, mild injury/blood mention, slightly suggestive content

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Still unsure of this chapter, but nonetheless, here it is.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GRAVES MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | ao3 ver.

You knew what you signed up for when you joined Shadow Company, hand selected by Graves himself. It was mercenary work; unconventional jobs, covert ops, the works—that you could handle. But you couldn’t handle how it's changed him.

Maybe that was on you for being seduced by the boss, or maybe it was on him. The blame game you were beating yourself up with wasn’t aiding any of it.

Still, the thoughts that swarmed you the previous night—they were truly wrong. At least that was what your guilt was telling you. Graves? Hell, he never needed to know. He had just as much a roaming eye when it came to other women.

Infidelity should’ve been the least of your concerns, considering you were assisting your new allies in a high-priority op. You were quite literally putting on the gear that would protect you, triple checking your pack, and most of all stifling your own roaming eye.

Simon—or, Ghost—was the object of your fantasies, and you didn’t feel as horrible about that as you should’ve, despite all the internal conflict you were feeling. And now, to be standing next to the bloke, it was torturous.

Another second with Graves, you would’ve ripped his head off his shoulders and ran for the hills, so you would much rather suffer in silence as your eyes ogled. But this allyship would end one day, you’d go back to working with Shadow Company, and surely the kinks would work themselves out without further issue…

“You’re with me today.” Simon picks up his rifle, motioning his head in the direction of the door. You expected him to already be striding down the hall, but he was waiting for you to finish gathering your gear. Perhaps, he took pity on your widened gaze—God, if only he knew the reason why.

The heavy backpack found your shoulders, then you found your own piece, nodding for his speedy steps to lead you out of the armory.

His feedback crackled through the earpiece when he tested the sound, allowing you to hear the chatter of the other units, the other pairs assisting on this op, and most interestingly, Graves himself.

“You boys almost there?”

“Five minutes out. Nearly there.” Ghost answers him before you can, an act you’re immensely thankful for, though Graves would’ve said something so bland there was no chance it would raise anyone’s suspicion.

The ride is short; Simon looks out the window on his side, gun resting between his widespread legs. You, sneaking glances when you can, taking advantage of how he’d zoned out after minutes of unpaved road stretching. Finally, the small hideout revealed itself—the closest hint to Hassan’s location as of late. Surely, this couldn’t be it, given the small scale of the building. Graves wouldn’t waste resources and bring you here if it wasn’t, though. One look at Captain Price, and you knew he was for no-nonsense either.

None of it made sense to you, but you didn’t have the authority to question it.

You follow orders, get blacklisted, or end up dead in the dirt your combat boots are crunching in right this second. Simon led, making use of the buddy system formation—a diagonal line formation where you could watch each other’s six. His gun raised to the windows of the home, examining the lights illuminating the top floor, and most of all the silhouettes cast on the sheer curtains.

It’s an older-style home, surely not easy to maintain stealth with all the creaks of wood, and the tired settling frame when there’s the slightest movement. But with Ghost in front of you, you felt safer than you ever did when Graves led you in formation. You wished that didn’t make you feel so bad as it did to admit, downright queasy.

“Watch the kitchen.” His harsh tone stirred you out of your inner monologue, which resembled more of a melting pot of guilt and dwindling self-respect.

You aim your rifle in the direction of the kitchen, an L-shaped one with the original cabinets untouched and unpainted. A shotty pendant illuminated it, casting a golden tint on the entire downstairs. It wasn’t much of a house and definitely wasn’t one Hassan would use to hide. No armed guards, no booby traps, no suspicious documents in your or Simon’s sight.

It felt… unorthodox.

Cups of coffee sat on the tiny dining table, but they weren’t steaming. They were clearly left there longer than an hour, more than enough time for any useful informants to be found by now. You were there too late, you were sure of it. Despite how calm and quiet Ghost had been, it was clear his expectations were let down as well.

It was up the stairs next, the most nail-biting portion so far. Simon’s barrel eyed the landing, yours did the hall at the top. Someone was in the front room up here, that silhouette couldn’t have been a figment you both laid eyes on.

His boot nudged each door of the hall, as to prevent a stray bullet hitting something vital if he were to put his whole frame in the way of the arch. But there was nothing; not a sound. Doors left opened partially, but no sign of the figure you both saw outside.

“Stay on your toes.” Ghost whispers, his husk sending a chill up your spine for two different reasons. His gloved hand found the knob, a cringe-worthy squeak when the hinges moved. Your eyes stayed on your behind, down the stairs and the window in the hall, watching for something—any movement.

He crept inside, you walking backward and using only the sound of his steps to guide you when to step.

It was an office of some sort, meant to be the master bedroom of the quaint home. Instead of a bed, there was a mess piled on top of what once was a desk. Papers, jars of chemical substances, pliers, and tools alike—someone’s twisted version of arts and crafts.

Simon snapped his fingers, pointing towards the closet—the final hiding spot you were sure was empty. But the doors were shut, shut all the way, unlike all the other doors in this home. You silently crept ahead, one hand sliding open the pocket doors. You weren’t sure what to expect; opening the doors could trigger a trap or there really could be someone waiting for you.

But, it was empty; an empty closet, not a single hanger or box of clutter stored within it.

As suddenly as you felt it, there was the whizz of a silenced bullet. A sharp pain in your side, a force that knocked you to the ground of the bedroom, but there was no oozing blood from your chest—only a dreadful burn. Your vest had absorbed it, but the pain reminded you of the purple welt that would reside there if you got out of this obvious trap alive.

Simon knelt in front of the window, his rifle mounted against it as he watched for the source. “Stay down, Private!” They weren’t too deep in the hills, the shot came too quick and it was too straight. They could’ve been as close as the brush at the neighboring home.

Your gun had left your hands, and frankly, you weren’t sure your torso could bear the weight of it right this second. That’s when you spotted it—eyes glowing from under the table in the corner, blinking and making a slow movement out from under the shadows. A hand crept out, still maintaining eye contact. 

You found the thigh holster, grabbing your pistol. Whoever it was, they darted out from under the surface, about to ambush Ghost’s distracted state. There was no time to alert him verbally, and you couldn’t manage anything but pained groans right now.

It was pure instinct, how quickly you aimed and took your shot.

The man slumped against the chair in the corner, a smoking hole in his head. Simon turned, ears ringing and head screaming. You’d saved his life, a dangerously close shot you decided to take while writhing in pain. “Christ!” He bellowed, gun aimed at the lifeless hostile with a splatter of crimson behind his head.

Simon’s eyes widened, but there was no time for gratitude or shock. He somehow moved quicker than you on your sharpest day, finally taking a shot at the sniper that hit you. Ghost’s fingers found the button on the radio as quickly as they pulled the trigger—deadly timing.

“Two hostiles down; a sniper and an unknown.” He then bent down in front of you, handing you the gun that was sent flying when you hit the ground. A firm hand found your wrist, yanking you to your feet. 

No warm words, only a slightly softened look. There were more significant issues on his mind, reasonably so, considering you just saved his ass.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

—

You peered at your bare, battered chest as soon as you made it to the privacy of your temporary barrack. With a swab, you dabbed at the welt now formed, a nasty purple bruise surrounding it from the sheer speed and force of the sniper bullet.

You were lucky there was such low visibility that night, that the ambush wasn’t better calculated, otherwise you would’ve ended up with a bullet in your head too. It could’ve been much, much worse than it was, but that didn’t ease the wince in your face.

A bandage would do—one you slapped on with little care for how it looked. You had gotten out alive, as did Ghost, all your doing. It was as if the minute you returned to base, that irrational guilt gnawing at you returned, as did the thoughts.

But you needed to get out there and attempt to keep appearances. So you did, returning to the hall of the briefing room. Shadows and 141s alike, most in their own corners working or talking business for the following day.

You’d spotted his head of hair in the crowd, surrounded by a portion of the Shadows under his control.

“Can I speak to you, Commander?” You said, urging him to turn around and stop whatever smug pastime he was retelling for them. He was much too nonchalant, considering how unsuccessful and risky today was.

He turned and nodded, following you out to the hall willingly, though he gave his men a look that said he dreaded your presence. It was for the act—right?

You used to convince yourself that, but it was abundantly clear that something was wrong with him, the way he felt toward you today. He was… hardened and stern, more than he had ever been, even when you two weren’t fraternizing.

“Heard you took one today.” Graves patted your chest, a futile attempt to lighten your mood. Though, his hand smacking your chest only made you want to keel over and sob from how tender the spot was.

You weren’t ‘feeling the love’ or in any mood for his smugness right now. “Tell me about this op.” You cut off his sneer with an icy glare. “Not the bullshit you told us this morning, the truth. You and Shepard.”

Graves scoffed as if you had personally insulted his entire bloodline. “Excuse me?” Yes, it was his company. Yes, you were lower in the chain of command than him. No, it wasn’t his right to dangle his Shadows in front of danger like a meat to a hungry dog.

It was clear, or should’ve been, that this wasn’t your uniform speaking to him—it was you just as much. Before you spoke, you watched each side of the hall to ensure there weren’t listeners. “You’re… different, and I don’t like being in the dark.” His lies stuck out like a sore thumb, no matter how well he thought he was at hiding his true motivations.

Something was very wrong here, something even the 141 wasn’t privy to.

“You’re treading on thin ice right now, Shadow.” He tightened his lip into his signature pout, your words unable to budge him. There were no eavesdroppers, nor cameras in view, so why the hell was he talking to you like your boss? There had always been that line there—where and when he would drop the act. But he didn’t, and it made the figurative knife twist further.

“You nearly got us killed, Phillip. Tell me what the hell is going on!” You hissed, your voice emulating a hushed outcry concealed by gritted teeth.

His hands found the flesh of your shoulder, backing you against the wall behind you. “Following fucking orders, that’s all you need to know! Got it?” His fingertips dug into your flesh, tightening when his stare deepened.

The smack moments ago was nothing compared to this—this hold dared your knees to buckle beneath you. But you couldn’t, not with how hard you’d clenched your jaw. It was anger disguised by betrayal, the betrayal of him pulling rank on you. 

He had plans, that much was abundantly clear. If he was willing to grabble you here, how much danger were these plans going to land you in?

You tore his iron grip off your shoulder, holding the tender spot, “I don’t know who you are anymore, Commander.” If he was going to hide behind formalities, so would you.

He slammed the door to the briefing room, though it was muffled by the overlapping conversation he’d returned to.

You were baffled; he had backed you into a corner—literally and figuratively. You, the one he once desired so badly, until he pushed you aside like an afterthought.

Whatever this was, it was long dead.

TAGLIST: @redhoodxsupergirl @noasaltacc

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #phillip graves x you #phillip graves #shadow company

[yuesya]

Suguru frowns. 

“Gakuganji-gakucho. What do you think you’re doing?” In front of him, the aged principal of the Kyoto jujutsu school tenses. And for good reason –the ire of a Special Grade sorcerer is not something to take lightly, and Suguru does not appreciate the old man attempting to kill Yaga. Who was looking rather decidedly beaten and battered at the moment; if Suguru hadn’t arrived just in the nick of time, then he’d be dead. 

Just the thought of it sends a cold chill down his spine.

“… What are you doing here, Geto?” 

Suguru pauses. His old teacher’s voice is… strange. And not strange as in ‘surprised,’ which would only be reasonable given that Suguru had pretty much suddenly appeared out of thin air here, after solving the puzzle of that complex eightfold imprisoning barrier he’d been trapped in. He hadn’t expected there to be a teleportation mechanism built into the exit, either.

No, Yaga-gakucho’s voice sounds hostile towards him, which makes absolutely no sense. Also, ‘Geto?’ Why is Yaga-gakucho calling him ‘Geto’ and not ‘Suguru’ as he usually does? Why does he look at Suguru as if he’s an enemy? He’d literally just saved his life!

“What do you mean, ‘why are you here?’” Suguru gives his old teacher an unimpressed look. “I’m one of your teachers, where else would I be? Satoru would’ve driven you up the wall a long time ago if I wasn’t here to rein him in.”

Silence. The look that Yaga-gakucho gives him –Suguru can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about it feels wrong, wrong, wrong.

“What’s your angle here?” Yaga-gakucho scowls. “Stop lying. We know what you did at Shibuya! How long are you going to play obtuse?”

Suguru rears back, startled by the vehemence in the older man’s voice. But at the same time, “What do you mean, Shibuya? I’ve been in America for the past two weeks! You were the one who handed the assignment to me!”

“What?”

“What?”

Another silence. This one is much more awkward than the previous, however, and also blatantly ringed with confusion for all parties involved. Even Gakuganji-gakucho.

... It takes awhile to sort things out. Apparently, Suguru hadn’t just teleported back to Japan when he’d solved that puzzle barrier. He’d been fucking teleported to a parallel reality, and the sheer sideways angle of everything here was absolutely mind-boggling. Firstly, he was apparently dead –but also not, because some thousand year-old curse user had hijacked his corpse? Also, the Geto Suguru of this world had gone off his rocker as a third year student and intended to massacre all non-sorcerers in the world in order to create a world without curses, which, just. What??

“Why would they ever do that?” he asks, completely flabbergasted… and just a touch morbidly curious.

Because Amanai had died. Which had then led to the Suguru of this world questioning the worth of non-sorcerers and the purpose of sorcerers –and then, madness.

… In what world was that possible? Zenin Toji had gotten past the terrifying combination of Satoru and Shiki? How?

Suguru frowns pensively. “Amanai Riko is the teacher for second year students in my world. After the mission in our second year, she rejected the merger at the end, and the Tokyo school accepted her as a new student. She traveled with Tsukumo-san for a few years after graduating, then came back to take up a teaching post.”

“I… see.” There’s a complicated note in Yaga-gakucho’s voice, accompanied by something else that’s just slightly wistful. Clearly, he had his own regrets over how that mission to protect the Star Plasma Vessel went in this world. 

Suguru rubs at his forehead. This world… things are currently an utter mess. And Satoru and Shiki were sealed? How? It boggled the mind –Satoru alone was already unstoppable, and together with his sister the two were invincible. Or at least, the closest approximation to invincible that there was. However, from another perspective, it also painted the current situation in a grim light. They were really in some dire straits.

Good thing that Suguru was here to help, and hopefully he’d also be able to find a way back to his own reality where everything made sense, at the end of this mess.

“You know the students are probably going to attack you on sight, right?”

Suguru waves his hand, “It’ll be fine, Yaga-gakucho. I’m a teacher, I can deal with a few enthusiastic students.”

#Writing #zenith of stars au #twins au #au of an au #geto from twins au lands in canon-verse #@collectivetrash you are responsible for this #satoru does not show up but like #i figure that yaga and the students could have fun first haha #guys this is now dubbed the #twin cannons au #thanks to @raorica for the name haha

[theyhavemagic]

how phoenix feels when miles chooses death

so when miles comes back in jfa, phoenix is mad at him. he feels betrayed and he says he thinks that miles did it because his perfect record had been broken. but i think it's more complicated than that. phoenix clearly blamed himself after miles's "death", especially with his savior's complex. when franziska blames him for miles's disappearance, phoenix is at loss for words. it really hurts him. having gone that far for miles, having changed his whole career path, his whole life just to see miles again and save him, having actually saved him from a guilty verdict in court, having saved him from his nightmares in which he had believed for 15 years that he'd killed his own dad... after all of that, phoenix just couldn't handle the thought that he'd actually failed to save him. he felt betrayed, of course, because he'd done so much for miles and miles left him. and then turned out to be alive which meant that he didn't even bother to contact him to let him know he was, in fact, not dead. so phoenix had every right to be mad at miles, but i think that much of his anger for miles was actually his surpassed anger for himself because he felt he had failed to save miles. I feel like phoenix just had to come up with a petty reason for miles's "death" so he wouldn't feel that guilty and heartbroken. because he always saw the true miles. he always saw good in him. he'd seen him starting to change, helping phoenix, fighting for the truth. no way phoenix would've just genuinely believed that miles did it because of the ruined perfect record. it just feels implausible to me. and even if phoenix partly believed in that petty reason he made up. that still meant that phoenix was essentially the one who was guilty of breaking miles's perfect record and leading him to "death". phoenix became a lawyer to save miles. he couldn't handle the thought that he failed to save him and possibly even led him to death. that's why he was so angry at himself he became so angry at miles. it wasn't just about the betrayal but also about his own guilt.

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #wrightworth #narumitsu

[the-archivists-plus-one]

Gonna let out some thoughts about how I think Scout feels about Spy being his dad once he finds out :)

When Scout was younger, he’d definitely rag on his deadbeat of a dad. I can totally see him doing so, as why wouldn’t he? The dude left his Ma’ to take care of 8 boys by herself, one of which was his by blood, which was a shitty move no matter who you asked.

But this became more difficult once he grew up and learned exactly who his dad was.

The thing that made it easier when he was younger was that when he was a teen, there was no face to pair with the resentment he felt. He couldn’t actually place a human being in that place with complicated morals and emotions, it was just some guy he knew was a piece of shit for leaving. And all was fine like that, he didn’t think about it.

And when he DID have a face to put there? When he DID have a person he knew with all the human attributes he never associated with his dad, with all the complications and complexities? It just made him conflicted, with all too many different emotions and thoughts.

When he finds out Spy’s his dad, he’s forced to think of more than just an idea of a person. He’s forced to see his dad as something- SOMEONE three dimensional, something real. It can’t just be someone he could condemn without a second thought, someone that would’ve done what they would’ve done no matter the situation. It has to now be the guy he knows is much more complex than that, and who he knows always has reasons for doing things, no matter if Scout knows them or not. He’s deliberate with what he does. Always.

So, what would make his disappearance any different?

..Could Scout have been the main reason he had left?

Now, Scout can’t just think of his dad and blame him for everything, for making his own shitty decisions. No, because he knows this guy now, and doubts have been forever planted in his mind.

He’s forced to think more about it. He can’t just let it all be black and white, good and bad, because nothing ever is. The only problem with his realization of this is that Scout is never good when it comes to thinking more.

Because that leads him to overthinking.

Thinking that he is and always will be a failure, a disappointment in his father’s eyes. Thinking that his mom and Spy were truly in love, and Scout had messed it up and led him to leave.

The blame was no longer only on his dad. It couldn’t be. Not anymore.

The resentment he felt couldn’t fully be placed on him anymore. It felt wrong. So much of it was now focused on himself now, and there was nothing he could do to convince himself it should be any different.

Because of this all, he couldn’t fully bring himself to hate Spy. It’d hurt too much. He wanted to punch his face in, so badly, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to do anything even close.

And what the hell did that make him? A coward who couldn’t handle his own emotions? A guy who was just as bad and therefore couldn’t do shit against the man he was supposed to despise?

All of his brothers had such firm beliefs of the guy. All of them would be willing to give him hell and back, whether through the form of physical harm or words, for what he’s done. No one messes with their Ma’.

So here he was, in the middle of his family and Spy, unable to form a concrete opinion on the matter besides how much he hated it. And how much he hated himself.

And surely, he wasn’t alone in that sentiment. At the very least, that’s what Scout believed. It only seemed right. It only seemed fair.

Of course, all of this is internalized within Scout. And it’ll keep going like that until he finally breaks.

And what’ll happen then? Well, I’ll let you decide.

#thanks for coming to my TED talk #:) #scout angst #spydad #but make it ✨angst to the brim✨ #scout has RSD and you can FIGHT ME ON THAT #it’s very prominent in this lmao #tf2 #jeremy tf2 #tf2 scout #team fortress scout #team fortress two

[ash-omalley]

january 8th, 1935. that was the day that you, elvis aaron presley, were placed on this earth to change the world. an angel sent by the lord. who knew you would change an entire culture through your love and passion of music ? who knew you would have a fortune through fame one day that you shared with the entire world around you ? who knew you would become the king of rock n’ roll ?

january 8th, 2023. today is the day that you, elvis aaron presley, turn 88 and have conquered the world through music, movies, laughter, generosity, and unconditional love. no artist, no person could ever compare or will ever compare to your life and legacy. that culture that you curated and altered ? that still permeates through the art and air today. without you i think life would’ve turned out pretty boring.

i have always known you, specifically through your hit records. but 2022 was the year that changed it all for me and you. in the middle of summer i watched a movie and read a book that led me down a rabbit hole of loving, accepting, understanding, and working diligently to protect you. i learned your wins and your losses. i fell in love with your kindness and boyish personality, along with that mischievous sense of humor you love to share with everyone. i also observed your flaws and understood that beneath the image you had so meticulously drawn up, was a man. a man who wanted to be loved for exactly who he was. a man who took care of his family, no matter what he may have cost him. a man who made sacrifices to ensure his fan’s happiness, even though his well-being was at stake. a man who had an inner child that wanted to explore every nook and cranny of this world. a man who explored his spirituality, remained humble in his roots, and was accepting of all human lives. a man who felt so deeply. a man who was complex and dichotomous, yet so simple. a simple man who just happened to live the complicated life of a rockstar.

from the moment i discovered you i began to feel your spirit surrounding me. you are in the sunshine. the wind. the trees. the grass. the flowers. you are nature for me. you have been my guardian angel, which i wholeheartedly believe was gods truest gift to me. you are saying hi when i find you in the crevices of the public. you were in the halloween store with me, singing a little less conversation. you were there with me at dillards when i randomly discovered a shirt of you in the deepest parts of that store, a most unlikely event. you were there when i worried about surviving financially and reassured me that all would be okay with your simple song “i’ve got confidence.” you visit me in my dreams. sometimes i don’t even remember the exact sequence of events, but i just know you were there. or you show up as walter hale from trouble with girls, which you know is one of my fave movies of yours hehehe.

thank you ep. thank you for watching over me. thank you for making me happy. thank you for allowing me to find just as many other people who love you just as much as i do. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for letting me discover you. and not the image of you, but the man. besides my bf and my own dad, you are the truest love of my life and i hope to spend every birthday, hereafter, with you. after all we are family and family spends birthdays together. i promise to continue spreading your legacy to those around me, to my children, to the world. i love you as wide as the sky ep. happy heavenly birthday my love. keep being “crazy” 🤍🦋🌌🎙️♥️💥

TCB forever ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

#elvis #elvis history #elvis presley #elvis the king #elvisaaronpresley #elvis fans #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis 2022 #lisa marie presley #elvis movie #king of rock n roll #elvis fic #elvis film #elvis interview #elvis music #elvis quotes #elvis presley history #army elvis #elvis songs #elvis photos

[retrodreamgirl]

social etiquette for a beautiful stranger | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the wonderfully complicated ordeal of your ordinary becoming his special OR the time steve wouldn't go with you to a zombie festival but did read The Feminine Mystique and liked it [wc: 8.6k]

warnings fem!reader, steves pov, pining steve, fluff, slight hurt/comfort college au, friends to lovers, reader is poetic as shit (very me coded so sorry bout it), ft. dustin and robin being the best friends, cruel college girls, slow burn, not really proofed, lmk if i missed anything!

i'm actually incredibly obsessed with this and am begging you all to talk to me abt it (asks, reblogs, replies, ANYTHING) bc i love them and also if you hate it you must hate me bc this reader is so me coded its crazy (that last part is a joke...no it's not)

⤜♡→

In the interest of nostalgia everything remains as it were, traced with the faint dusting of fingertips too fearful of a future unsure. You never knew what it would be like in a room that’s not altogether yours, one that’s nearly taped down the center with an invisible line as if to claim “Don’t touch my stuff and I won’t touch yours.” Your bedding and the pictures plastered to the adjacent white cinderblock not seeming half as interesting as the pale blue Cindy Lauper on the other side of the room. 

It’s difficult to catch the moment you surmised your strain of voice and reclusive behavior made you just like everyone else, that is to say, no one at all. 

You aren’t the girls two rooms down who nearly exclusively leave their door open, the lip caught on a piece of wood shaped like cheese to stop the hinges so anyone could come in. You’re far too unagreeable to get on with the ones who knock on each other's doors for sport, picking at the knick knacks on their neighbor’s dressers and playfully pocketing the ones they seem most fond of. There never seems to be any conversations in the lounge that catch your attention long enough to have you considering an off the cuff response, sidling up to casually insert yourself between tweed skirts and turtleneck sweaters. 

It appears to you as if you’ve been cast out with the ease of cruelty only girls seem to possess at this stage in their life. The one they attribute to the horribly difficult situation of being here, a place characterized by the nebulous flutter of a manicured hand.

But if you were to crawl out of your own skin and materialize as someone of new name and face, if you were to ask “What’s with the girl in room 302?” they would all guide you with a vague cast over their shoulders as if said girl is lurking in the far corner, the one with the uncomfortably wobbly armchair, advising that she’s simply too interesting to bother with. 

But as it were you’ve yet to configure the idea of this momentary abandonment of self and you’ve failed to find your way across the room where Robin Buckley leans forward along the fuzzy brown loveseat and whispers this very question to a junior who’s taken pity on her wide eyed uncertainty about the whole thing. 

“Too interesting? That doesn’t seem right because I mean wouldn’t you wanna know more about her? I know when I was into…—well anyways I’m just saying has anyone actually tried to talk to her?” The disinterest in the subject is nearly driving Robin to madness. 

The urge to pelt Steve with the change from her can of coke is the reason she’s perched on the edge of the sofa, because she’s positive he’d agree with her if he paid a lick of attention where he sits to one side flipping through an outdated Vogue. Especially taking into consideration his secret infatuation that led them to the sleepy lighting in her dorm's lounge area.

“Look.” Robin can tell the girl—she’s only slightly guilty she never bothered to ask her name because certainly if she wanted them to know she would’ve said—wants this conversation to be over but still leans forward intent on her next words. “It’s nothing against her, but haven’t you noticed the way she’s so…obscure?” 

“...obscure.” Steve’s paying attention now, bored with the magazine and ready for the pizza Robin promised. He glances around the room then, always on edge when he visits her, like he’s stepped into a world he’s not altogether prepared for. When he finds you in the corner he realizes the topic of conversation is more to his interest than he thought.

“Not in like a bad way but I mean, have you seen her? Even her room is just so involved.” 

“You’ve been in her room?” Steve is minutely throttled by a tinge of jealousy, always curious of what lies behind the twin door. Wondering if it’s the same as his own, bed pushed beneath the window and everything else thrown up haphazardly, or if you’re more precise in your decoration. 

“No, no I was in Clara’s room but Y/n is her roommate—that’s hardly the point. What I’m saying is she’s very smart and romantic but in that difficult way no one understands.” 

The way Steve tilts his head stupidly, ignoring the split ends dangling in his peripheral, is imploring enough for further explanation. He’s not sure whether he should be sheepish or maintain insistence that nothing he’s heard in the past few minutes makes sense. 

“You know, like…Sylvia Plath.” The citation is meant to mitigate the addled crease in his forehead, but as far as Steve’s concerned this girl has never seriously read Plath in her life. Not that he has either, but that’s far from the point. “It all sounds pretty and melodramatic but what is she really saying?” 

“What is who saying?” A new girl materializes before Steve can think of something smart to say. Her hair is pinned up and she’s wearing a dress the color of a wilted banana.

“We’re talking about Y/n.” Steve wants to say that they aren’t talking about you, rather he had a curiosity that was now nearly as confused as when they’d sat down. Though that would require the intense dissection of an innocent question. One guided by intentions that he couldn’t begin to explain as the effect of an identity hindered by the misguided moral high ground of newly adult teens in the nineteen-eighties.

It would also require their willingness to let him participate in their mind boggling repartee. Neither of which pose themselves as viable options as it stands.

“Oh she’s so smart.” The new girl drops her bag, pushing into Steve’s side when she plops on the couch. “Kathy, isn’t she just so smart?”

“So smart. I’m just too embarrassed I’ll make a fool of myself if I even try.” Kathy giggles, like it’s absurd that anyone could have that effect on her. “Heather talked to her once at the beginning of the year. Tell them, Heather.” 

Steve has failed to deduce whether their periodic inflections of voice are a result of unnecessary emphasis or some secret amusement he’s yet to catch onto, but Heather appears overjoyed to have been asked about her run-in with the obscurity taking up residence on the third floor. 

“Well it was just a second, but it was at the start of term party one of the frats was throwing. Now that I think about it, I can't even believe she was there.” Not that he would agree, but Steve couldn’t believe it either. The only reason he was there is because he all but dragged Robin so he could scope the place out. “Anyways, I asked her if—”

“She asked her if she’s a virgin!” 

“Kathy.”

“Well you did, Heather.” 

“Yeah, but it’s just a thing you ask frosh! You make it sound like I was being harsh.” 

“No one’s asked me that…” Robin hushes to herself, but both girls crowd her all curious eyes and sly smiles. She burns beneath their perfectly winged liner, attention drawn to the condensation of her can resting on the table. 

“Well are you?” 

It seems a ritualistic task to stand scrutinized by these upperclassmen. To allow them to dress her down until it becomes impossible to deny them the truth. Steve begins to wonder if it were her fate all along to wander unawares to the uncomfortable sofa, whether this is the moment she either proves herself to be worthy of the attention they’ve so generously showered her with or not. 

He knows she doesn’t need them, she has her own friends and her own interests, but he understands her desire to be accepted in this new place. To be regarded as more than a band geek slinging ice cream at Scoops Ahoy or rewinding tapes at Family Video.

“I’m…I only did it once.” She relents, perhaps too easily they both decide afterwards. She’s flustered and unprepared for any string of questioning that might follow, the abundance of words she has constantly balanced at the tip of her tongue either gearing up to be her greatest ally or her worst enemy and Steve only hopes it's the former.

“Sure, that’s all it takes really.” It sounds patronizing but Kathy sobers quickly when she and Heather burst into another fit. “Was he your boyfriend or just convenient? My first time was with my boyfriend but sometimes you just take what you can get.”  

“Oh uh…” Steve’s prepared to cut in when Robin seems to shrink into the cushions.

“Kathy, don’t be so crass.” Heather shrieks, rolling her eyes at the question that is somehow more invasive than its precursor according to her. “You’re a good sport. Y/n wouldn’t even answer, outright refused really.”

He can tell Robin feels stupid. Of course you wouldn’t answer, maybe she shouldn’t have either. It’s clear Kathy and Heather are getting more out of her than she’s getting out of them. Steve regrets her bothering in the first place, but stows the impending nausea over time wasted and truths easily spilling over in favor of letting her talk herself out of this. 

“You know, I have to go actually. We’re gonna grab pizza and I wanna call my friend before it gets too late. He doesn’t live on campus, too young really. Sometimes he doesn’t answer the phone the first time so I have to make sure I have time to call more than once because I don’t wanna miss him again—”

“Chill! We totally get it, go call your friend. Be sure to tell him about your new friends Heather and Kathy.”  

“Smooth.” Steve jests when she tugs him from the sofa. Her shoulders relax and she growls in the direction of his boyish grin releasing him at the threshold.

“Shut it, dingus. I swear you better make me your best man after this shit.” 

“What!? You didn’t even get anything out of them!”

“Whatever, pizza’s on you.” 

~*~

The next time Steve sees you, you’re lounging by the lake in the center of campus. He takes careful care to consider your position, a healthy distance from the water with the back of your hand resting across your forehead to shade yourself from the afternoon sun. It’s not too pretty out, the trees taking on the shape of almost dead rather than the delightfully golden hue that kicks in mid-September. 

This far back he can still see the purple of your knitted turtleneck, tucked into the dark corduroy skirt rising above your mid-thigh to create a tantalizing expanse of bareskin leading to your shiny black oxfords. 

He takes a turn, dipping to glance at his blue jeans and the Hawkins High hoodie he probably should’ve left to rot in his closet back home. It seems pointless to change completely, so he shoves the hoodie over his head and wraps it around his waist. 

It’s uncharacteristic. The way he strolls over, hands snug in his pockets like he’s just interested in the murky view of the pond and straggling geese enjoying the frigid stillness atop the surface. He doesn’t know if he’ll say anything, completely unprepared to wow you with the impressiveness that only seems to appear in times in need of immediate action. 

He’s feet away now, glancing at you every few steps. You’re still unmoving and he wonders if you’re sleeping. If you’ve found the lake to be the only place fit for such things. There’s a book resting in your other hand, thumb nudged between the pages to hold your place. 

“The Feminine Mystique.” You sigh, startling Steve into nearly tripping over his own feet. Your voice is so pastel and ethereal that it caresses his ears on its way to settle into his brain, slowly permeating like spilled paint. “Woe to misogyny and all that.” 

“Oh, yeah...fuck misogyny.” A cringe follows, his mind conjuring the idea that Robin’s found a new method to tally his defeats already. He stills watching you center yourself on the palm that previously shaded you and lifting the book to regard the teal and creme cover. 

“Have you read it?” Steve is startled by your subtle disregard for the invasion of privacy. It’s an emotion furthered by the frayed paperback extended toward him . “Here.”

“But you’re only halfway—”

“S’not as good the second time. I was so put off I got distracted by a bird flying just there, it was watching me too I think.” You shrug, dropping it in the grass when Steve doesn’t immediately take it. Your finger lifts to guide him to a cardinal perched in the nearest tree. You don’t say more, guiding your attention to the lake, neither a dismissal or an invitation so Steve takes the initiative to lower himself, grabbing the book.

“Thanks.” A gust of wind shoves against the pair of you, Steve perfectly clear on why you’re the only person out enjoying the weather. “It’s pretty chilly out here.” 

“Well you did take your sweatshirt off before you came over.” You hum, grazing Steve’s hand when you lift yours to tug at the hem of your skirt and he swears he can smell vanilla and chamomile. You don’t allow him time to be embarrassed about it, already onto the next topic. “Wanna go see a movie?”

“A movie?” He reddens, placing the novel aside in favor of rubbing his sweaty palms against his thighs.

“They’re having a festival at the theater, ‘Zombies Through the Ages’.” You say ‘Zombies’ like you think it’s a ridiculous concept, but there’s a delighted rise in octave toward the end of the phrase that says otherwise. It’s difficult for Steve to sift through your intentions and settle on anything more than your desire not to sit alone in a darkened theater watching corpses tear into flesh. 

“I…well you don’t even know me.” It comes out more accusatory than he intended, and Steve is kicking himself with his ratty sneakers when he sees the way your muscles flatten at the words. You sober rather quickly, standing from the grass and swaying on your feet. Steve untangles himself from the criss-cross that held him so perfectly in place like he had no intention of rearranging the words to shape them into his true meaning.

“Right.” 

There’s a moment of silence then and Steve supposes that perhaps both of you are trying to think of something to say. It seems silly to be sitting in the grass, making a fool of himself in front of the only girl he’s really wanted to talk to since Nancy but somehow there’s no other choice. 

He’s accidentally framed you in the obscurity with which they’ve all painted you as, because now it seems to have leaked into his brain and taken hold of his speech without his knowledge or consent. It feels bitter and lofty in the back of his throat, especially when he remembers how it felt to be that person to some extent.

He hadn’t noticed it before but you reach to secure an olive green messenger over your shoulder, the straps of faux leather already beginning to peel near the buckle. He watches you reach halfway toward the discarded copy of The Feminine Mystique but retract almost immediately. He wouldn’t blame you if you took it back. There’s a dreamy look in your eyes when you finally manage to find him with them and it’s hard for him not to think about how you’re so pretty. 

You’re so pretty and he’s mortified when your lips kissed beneath the cold and injured by his harmful speech attempt the baseless ruse of a thoughtful smile. 

“I have to go now, Steve.” 

~*~

“I’m an idiot.” 

“Well yeah, but it’s not your fault. Are we still on for next weekend? I’m not driving all the way there if you’re just gonna ditch me like last time.” 

“First of all don’t say it like you’re the one driving. Second, for the last time, I didn’t ditch you! I’m positive the words ‘Dustin don’t come’ left my mouth about ten times before you showed up anyways.” Steve currently stands with his back against the wall, leg propped up with the payphone tucked against his ear scoffing. 

Robin’s still in class for another twenty minutes he waited forty for a phone to clear up after you traipsed off and Dustin isn’t being the least bit sympathetic after he relayed his glaring miscalculation. 

Steve wouldn’t know that you pulled yourself from the reality of that moment by imagining it hadn’t happened at all. By pretending that perhaps Steve Harrington was nothing more than a figment of your imagination sent to prepare you for the harrowing realization that you aren’t meant to separate from the unhappiness that clings to you so desperately for a while yet.

“Whatever. Are you seriously panicking? You were nervous, I’m sure she didn’t take it personally. Just apologize.”

“Are you missing the part where she got up and left? I’m pretty sure she took it personally!” He draws the attention of a group of upper class girls known for scrutinizing every little thing. He offers a weak apology, too caught in his own detriment to really feel any remorse.

He wonders when it got like this. The whole thing really.

Constantly curious about everyone around him, yet ignoring it all the same. The choice to keep walking when sniffles echo beneath the doors, questioning his own importance when giggled whispers pass in the halls. The confounded hopefulness when girls who seemed too out of reach offer just a sliver of kindness, some untamed humility to guys like himself. Unsure which ones to trust and which ones to fear. 

An unkindness, all of it. 

“Steve?” 

“What?” 

“Were you listening to anything I said, dumbass?”

“Not likely. Forget it, she’s too real for me anyways. Gave me a copy of The Feminine Mystique.” The copy is currently laying atop his desk, right next to the battered copy of Lord of the Rings Dustin gifted him for graduation. He stared helplessly at it for thirty minutes before peeling himself from his desk in search of a phone. 

The book smells of faint traces of your perfume and looks almost as if it’s never been read at all. Almost. The laminate coating on the permanent jacket is only slightly creased near the binding and there’s a sticky scuff where it looks like you poorly pulled the price tag from the back. He hadn’t dared open it, too worried to face whatever overwhelming sense of you rests beyond the front cover but the pages are the color of old parchment and he thinks it makes sense it belongs to you.

“I don’t know what that means, but you’re crazy if you think you don’t deserve her. You’re the realest person I know…” He trails, as if considering the strength of the words in relation to every person he’s ever known. He imagines it's fairly simple for Dustin to deduce when considering his social circle for most of his recent adolescent years. “Well you might be tied with Max but that’s not the point really. Do you like her?” 

“Dust—”

“Do you like her?” It’s a simple question, and something he hasn’t been able to admit to anyone since the feeling slithered into his chest and coiled around his blood-pumping organ so that it oozed something deeper than the unoxidized thickness. Robin wasn’t an idiot, but even she had to dig to surmise the reason for his frequent insistence they hang in her dorm rather than anywhere else on campus.

“Of course I do.”

“Well that’s really the only thing that matters. So you can either keep whining to me or you can try again and this time don’t say something stupid when she asks you to hang out with her.”

It was easier said than done, the extra mile to see your face again without fruition most days. It seemed as if you’d forgotten the instance altogether and with it any interest in Steve at all. It wasn’t that you lacked the quiet courtesy to offer the tilt of your head or a soft acknowledgement when you crossed paths in the hall, but rather you seemed set not to relinquish to him any attention beyond it. 

He’s even stooped to the low of an uncommon interest that’s perhaps more common than he thought, cozying into one of the moth eaten loveseats in your dorm’s lounge and propping the novel you’d given him between his palms. Though he thinks he should be embarrassed it’s the first time he doesn’t feel like he’s performing but rather burrowing further into you and the curiosity of your person. His intention was to wait for you to walk through the lounge, hoping you would notice him in the corner nearest your usual spot, that wobbling armchair. He had no reason to believe he would find investment in the novel and forget about you entirely. 

“The Feminine Mystique.” Steve is startled by proximity of your body on the adjacent cushion, glancing toward the corner you most frequent, assuming someone must’ve taken it. It’s completely free. “I seem to have misplaced my copy.”

“Oh…you loaned it to me, remember?” Steve slowly slips a shred of paper through the pages, settling the volume in the space between you, measuring the distance between your thighs.

“Oh, I suppose I did. I must’ve forgotten.” 

“Do you want it back?” 

“You keep it, it’s not as good the second time I don’t think.” You repeat, digging into your bag to free a leather bound journal and a black ink pen. You open to a blank page and jot something down, lowering the book to your lap and slightly raising it again before speaking. “What do you think of it, this place? Does it give you a burning alive feeling or have you learned to step in the cold places like puddles of water? I think I’ll be burning for a long time yet, but I don’t mind. I think I’ll find an ocean eventually, I’m just too troubled by the waves and the unknown.”

The words are poetic in a way that sounds like you’re serenading him, the blush rising to his cheeks an homage to the rapid cycling where his chest pulses relentlessly beneath his polo. It’s clear you don’t think much of them, pen already scratching at the page again like you’d said nothing at all. 

Where Kathy found obscurity Steve finds awe in your speech. A constant string of words he dreams of understanding to their fullest extent because he dreams of understanding you. 

“I think in some ways it’s the same as Hawkins but also totally different, so I’m not really sure what to think yet. I miss my friend Dustin, but I’d never tell him that.” 

“Hawkins. That’s where you’re from?” 

“Yeah, it’s not very big but you’d be surprised how it feels like the biggest place in the world sometimes.” 

“That’s good. That you don’t know how you feel about it yet. I only just realized recently how to feel anything at all about such things.” You declare thoughtfully, Steve’s eyes following the way your pen traces the opening of your lips as you speak. “It’s how I found out those cool places exist, before I would just burn completely. Now I’ve taken to taming it periodically.” 

“Hey, I’m really sorry about the other day. I was being kind of a jerk but it’s only because I’m not used to people actually wanting to hang out with me. I mean, I met my best friend Robin working at an ice cream shop so she basically had to be around me all the time and the rest of my friends are a bunch of teenagers so—”

“The other day?”  

“When you asked me to go to the movies.” 

“Ah. Don’t worry, I understand it completely now.” Steve’s not sure what you understand, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from assuaging its hold around his midsection. “You should tell Dustin you miss him, I decided it just now. It might seem like a small thing but to him it could be the whole world and you would never know it.”

“He’s coming to campus next weekend, maybe you could meet him.”

“Maybe. I would like that a lot.” 

~*~

The week passes faster than Steve would’ve liked, his newest routine leaving his nights free to spend with you on the comfortably uncomfortable sofa or lounging beside the lake, with blankets and a sweater each at his insistence. He finished The Feminine Mystique (“You were so right, misogyny sucks ass!”) and you dared him to try it a second time, he only made it to the twelfth page. 

On the fifth day, it was raining and most of the girls from your building were crowded in the lounge watching Sixteen Candles when the two of you stumbled to the entrance dripping in your raincoats and galoshes.

“Wanna go to my room?” You suggest when neither of you seem interested in the camaraderie of it. “Clara’s gone home for the weekend so she won’t be around if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Steve’s sure you’ve misinterpreted the funny dangle of his lip half open to one side when you explain yourself but he’s also not certain why you thought you had to or if you just said it. He’s still not good at reading you and he's not sure he ever will be. 

“Yeah, that’s cool.” He follows your dreamy gait to the stairs and ignores the way your hand finds gentle security around his wrist, just your pointer and thumb guiding him the rest of the way until you’re both standing before the elusive 302. Your key is dangling beneath the waxy pink of your raincoat, secured by a sturdy chain.  

“I’ve always found it easy to forget these little things, especially when I’m never sure I actually want to come back.” You lean forward enough that your waist brushes against Steve’s front, he’s standing at an angle like he’s making sure the key actually goes in. He watches you struggle to trick the lock, endeared by the way your teeth puncture the flesh of your lower lip and your brows furrow. “And certainly I often find myself thinking it’s the room that doesn’t want me.”

“Can I try?” He nudges your arm to the side, chained key dangling from the lock. 

“You think you’re stronger than me.” You huff, minutely put out by the suggestion. “Fine. But I do think it’s terribly off putting to say so when I’ve tried my hardest.”

“No, I think you’re very strong.” He shifts so he’s standing in front of the door, your breath fanning against the shell of his ear where you peer over his shoulder. He thinks the lock must be rusted because it’s not as easy as he anticipated, the mechanism taking three sharp jerks of his hand to turn completely. Moving to the side, he  allows you to enter the space ahead of him passing you the key with a lopsided grin. “But sometimes your strength isn’t always where you need it to be and it’s okay to ask for help.” 

He follows you closely, unprepared for the arrangement of polaroids framing your bed lengthwise. You’ve ordered them by color so they span a rainbow along your wall and when Steve is close enough to make out the actual images he sees that they’re stills from films spanning decades. 

Your desk is an arrangement of more books than he’s ever owned sorted neatly within the cubbies. Journals of every color to put to use the impressive collection of stationary arranged neatly on its wooden surface. Your bed is a haven of knitted blankets and patterned throw pillows complete with a well-loved blue puppy and a brown rabbit with accents of pink dotting its nose and ears. 

It feels an intimate sort of thing, you allowing him into the place you’ve fashioned as a home away from home. A hideaway from the haunting realization of everything beyond the unreliable door adorned with a chalkboard currently scribbled with hearts around the border. 

Steve finds you’ve migrated to the far side of the room, slowly removing your galoshes and placing them against a bare stretch of wall near the closet and he follows suit. 

“Did you take all those?” He asks of the photos, flicking a piece of hair from his eyes and passing your extended hand his sopping raincoat.

“Oh yeah,” You have a way of speaking that makes everything seem like it’s the most uninteresting thing in the world. It’s the breathy tone and the way you don’t actually look at him when you say it, always waiting until the last possible moment to find his eyes. “I dated a guy who worked at the theater. I think the nicest thing he ever did for me was let me use one of them after closing to capture stills. It took forever and he broke up with me after.”

“He sounds like a jerk.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t remember him much really.” You consider it for a moment, walking to the shelf nestled in the corner. “Sometimes he was there but even when he was he wasn’t…or maybe I wasn’t and I just never knew and he never said. You’ll tell me when I’m not here, right?” 

“Of course.” He whispers, satisfied with the way you smile over your shoulder at him, like it was a shy admission, your ability to drift away. 

“We should listen to something if you want. You can pick, unless there’s nothing you like, then we can just be quiet.” You motion to the lining of cassettes and Steve hopes your taste is more refined than your roommates if her bubblegum posters are any indication. 

You float away, gliding towards your bed and pulling your legs to your chest while he roots through your collection, peeking over his shoulder periodically. It’s innocent the way you rest your head against your kneecaps in your jeans cuffed at the ankle and your pink t-shirt tucked in at the waist. 

You’re staring at the downpour beating against your window and Steve finds himself wondering how you manage in a place like this, without even a hint of the antagonistic streak coating the tongues of most of the girls he’s come across. 

“Find anything?” You catch him staring and the heat of it builds beneath his collar when he turns back toward the shelf. 

“Do you and your roommate get along?” The difference splitting the room is what guides him to the topic, a reminder of the moment Kathy mentioned Clara in passing but never any regard for your relationship either way. 

“She’s fine. She doesn’t disregard me like most people anyway.” Steve isn’t quite sure what to say, the thought of you noticing the disparaging way that people consider you is enough to shatter him completely. “I really think she must be glad to get away though.” 

“Why?” 

“Wouldn’t you be glad to go far away from here?” You fall against your mattress, your arm flailing over the edge displaying a variety of charms and string wrapped around your wrist, your other hand lifting to shield your eyes. It's an exasperation Steve’s not heard from you. “I dream of going away!”

“You can, you know.” Steve pulls a mixed tape from the pile and moves to your radio. “Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know where quite yet, I still don’t know how I feel about my own dreams but I fear someday they’ll come true. Where do you wanna go, Stevie, perhaps I’ll just hitch a ride.” The nickname is saccharine on your lips and he almost forgets the question, especially when he tucks the tape into your player and the first song is True by Spandau Ballet. You free yourself from your cage of darkness, rising on your elbows with a sardonic smile between helpless laughter. “Oh, this is a love tape! Are you in love with me, Stevie?”

He finds it horribly unpleasant that you expect him to deny it the way he’d deny forgetting to rewind returned tapes when he worked at Family Video. He stalks over to the bed and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to pill him to the mattress to sit with his back shoved against the wall. It’s not unwelcome when you take up your previous position, this time your head nestled in his lap with your eyes swallowing him entirely.

“Would that be so bad?” 

“Where do you wanna go, Stevie?” He’s grown used to your ability to shift, certain that you’ll cycle back eventually. It’s an admiration to him, your ability to hold off the inevitable until you feel ready to face it. Even the simplest of questions deemed a significant task of dissection. 

It doesn’t set him any less teetering on the edge in this instance, but there’s a comfort that finds the anxious pit rolling over in his stomach. 

“I don’t know. For the longest time I just wanted to get away from Hawkins, but now that I have I realize I’m not ready to leave all of it behind.” 

“The kids?” He can tell you're always fond even if you haven’t met them. He’s usually embarrassed when he slips up, used to his ego being deflated by the ones who built it in the first place. High school “friends” or flings more interested in his money than him. But your hands always settle over his when he starts to trail off and you ask so many questions that he thinks you must know them as well as he does by now.

“Yeah, I’d miss ‘em too much if I just left, ya know?” 

“What about your parents? You don’t talk about them.” 

“They’re one of the reasons I wanna get away, my dad mostly. He was always a hard ass but it got worse when I didn’t get into college. And when I did get into college he wasn’t proud or anything, just happy I’d be gone.” It wasn’t something he expected to have such a hold over him, the way his parents seemed more delighted he was leaving than happy that he made it. “He’s probably wondering how I even got in.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told you Steve, so don’t laugh when I say it or you’ll hurt my feelings, but I think you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” 

“Don’t you think it’s a little mean to say something like that and expect me not to laugh? It’s okay, I know I’m not a genius or anything.” He can see that you mean it and he hopes that you go on if only to trick him into believing it as strongly as you.

“Don’t you know all those things you did were more important than anything you’ve ever thought you should’ve done? It would’ve been so easy for you to go to college and forget Hawkins, forget all of it when you graduated but it wouldn’t have made a difference and you would’ve never known it.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know it. I know that if you did things the way people think, you wouldn’t have found family and experienced life in a way that some people don’t believe exists.” You’re pleading with him, eyes glistening with something he can’t quite reach. A climactic bridge soaked in devotion now the soundtrack to your sudden speech where it floats from static speakers.

“Maybe that just makes me lucky enough to have been chosen by them.” 

“You told me that strength isn’t always in the place we need it most, well intelligence is not always where we think it should be. Your intelligence is the way you manage to shape yourself into such an affection that people don’t realize they’ve been touched by it until they’ve fallen horribly transfixed in a way that doesn’t make much sense but it feels whole. You put so much thought into the way you cherish those kids and I don’t think you even know it really, how important it is that you stayed.”

“Well my dad—”

“Your dad doesn’t know it either, Steve. I think, and it’s a tragic thought but, I think maybe he forgot you a long time ago and now you just can’t trust him because he doesn’t know anything at all.

”It is a tragic thought, but I think you’re right.” Steve is glad there’s music because the silence would’ve been deafening. To have someone find the words to explain the emptiness that filled the length of his childhood in a way not riddled with a false hope for change.

Steve isn’t in charge of his own body when his hand flutters against the skin of your cheek, tracing the softness down to the curve of your chin. It’s pretty to think about calling you his and the ability to feel you in all of your gentle caresses of touch and speech. The song is Groovy Kind of Love Phil Collins when you look up at him with a new determination, almost knocking heads when you sit up and turn towards him.  

“We should kiss.” You’ve leaned far enough forward that the subtlest of movements pushes the tips of your noses together.

“I–what?” 

“Just to see. You never said if you were in love with me and I think I just might be in love with you so we should kiss…just to make sure.” 

Steve is positive he’s always loved you, even when you weren’t more to him than another person existing somewhere without his knowledge, but his hand rests against the warmth of your cheek and he leans in a little further, breathing you in now.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, wondering if you’d been chewing bubblegum before and he hadn’t noticed. 

“Sure.” Steve could scream, an agonistic sort of sound when someone knocks on the door just as your lips brush. You’re drawn to the sound and Steve is drawn to the way your eyes widen a half step. “Oh, it must be someone for Clara.” 

You stand, pulling at the places where your shirt especially clings and go to open the door. Sure enough, Heather steps through the threshold as soon as it’s wide enough and scans the room like you’re not the reason she’s here. She finds Steve and Phil Collins and suddenly it's all wrong. 

“Clara isn’t here, gone home for the weekend.” You inform her, the door still agape in your anticipation of her immediate departure. Steve would love nothing more. 

“Oh I know, but she said I could stop by for this new red nail polish she has because absolutely nothing else would do.” The pair of you watch her navigate the other half of the room, sifting through Clara’s things and spending too long in some spots. Steve swallows hard when she looks at him, a glint in her dark eyes. “You’re that freshman’s buddy aren’t you?”

“Robin, yeah.” 

“Robin, of course. I wondered why she was asking all those questions about Y/n. You should’ve said you were interested, ‘What’s with the girl on the third floor’ sounds so accusatory.” He doesn’t dare look at you, horrified by the sudden intrusion and no less by the revelation of his transgression. “I’m glad you decided to find out for yourself! Phil Collins is so sweet for these kinds of things and I guess I have my answer now, right?” 

“The nail polish is in the drawer in her nightstand. You better just take it or I’ll have to tell her you were going through her things.” It’s strained when you speak, Heather looks at you over her shoulder and struts to the nightstand pulling the translucent bottle free. 

“Oh course, I wasn’t snooping, Clara is always rearranging her things. Thanks so much, hun. Have fun!” She slips a wink in Steve’s direction, and he doesn’t miss the extra skip in her step before she disappears leaving everything all wrong.

“You know, I’ve only met her once and I think seeing her again was far too soon for my liking.” He tries to make light of things, but the way you still stand with your body bleeding into your door makes him nervous in a normal way, no comfort to be had in the way you’re thinking. “She doesn’t know when to shut up.” 

He speaks mildly, but remorse seeps in by the end. 

“I think I’d like to be alone for a while.” You wrinkle your nose like it’s never occurred to you that you might be unsure. It gives Steve a modicum of hope.

“Listen—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m not mad. I just…I like to tame the burning, remember?” He nods and he leaves, not because he wants to but because he thinks it's better than anything he could think of saying. Especially when you couldn’t find it in you to say that you’re upset.  

It doesn’t feel fair.

He doesn’t see you at all over the course of the next week and he thinks it’s the worst time of his life. Is positive he understands the burning now.

~*~

“Don’t take it personally, he hasn’t paid any attention to me all week.” Robin assures Dustin, fresh in from his mother’s Volvo. The trio is the same as they always were in their small town, stuffed into a booth talking about everything and nothing. “I think he’s sick.”

“Yeah, lovesick.” Dustin flings a fry across the table, striking Steve in his left eye. 

“Hey, you little shit, cut it out!” He flings it right back, missing entirely much to Dustin’s amusement. “Do it again and your ass is grass. It’s a restaurant, not a playground.” 

“Come on, dingus, he’s just messing around. You could at least pretend you wanna hang out with us.” Robin shoves a fry into the glob of ketchup on her plate and shoves it in Steve’s face. “You’re being a bummer.” 

He is being a bummer, but he can’t help it. Not when you’re supposed to be taking up the empty space beside him, excited and nervous. You’d talked incessantly about finally meeting Dustin, delighted to be introduced to one of his kids. He can imagine the way you two would be going back and forth, Dustin with his scientifically analytical mind and you with your poetic way of thinking. He always thought you’d find common ground in the fantasy of it all, told you you’d love D&D and Dustin would love nothing more than to teach you all about it. 

But you’re not here and he wishes it were as easy as blaming Heather for the whole thing, but he knows that on some level it’s his ability to constantly be his biggest liability.

“Sorry, I’m just not in a great mood at the moment.” He relents, shoving the remainder of his burger into his mouth. It’s Friday night and Steve promised to take Dustin to a theater in town, they’re having some festival according to Robin. He doesn’t mind it but would rather a night in like they used to do at home. He flicks the leather band of his watch slurping at his soda. “What time do we need to get to this thing? I’m not getting stuck with a lousy seat just because you think you need to clean out the concessions.”

“What time is it?” Dustin grabs at his arm, ignoring Steve’s hard stare when he clocks the greasy stain smeared along the glass. He considers a moment, a tactful glance to Robin “We can go now, right?” 

“Oh yeah, now is perfect I think.” Robin chucks a thin band of cash to the table and nudges Dustin out of the booth. 

Steve is too caught by the seamlessness of the whole thing and remains in his seat with his hand already shoved into his pocket. “Wait. Why are you paying? You never pay.”   

“I’m being a good friend, thought it might cheer you up a little. Now come on before we're in the front row breaking our necks like a bunch of zombies.” 

He’s no more an idiot to Robin’s uncharacteristic chivalry when he spots you meandering outside the theater in a skirt that flows around your knees and a collegiate hoodie. You don’t see them coming and Steve is half content to lower his head and keep walking, but when Robin points you out Dustin bounds over without a second thought. 

“Hey!” Dustin calls, but you don’t immediately reply. Your eyes have drifted to a particularly rowdy group of students, Steve hopes they aren’t in the same theater and wonders if you’ve thought the same. He can’t imagine you did, probably something more existential that he’d take in with a kind smile but still tell you if they’re anywhere near your seats he’ll throw a fit. “Hey, Y/n!” 

“Oh…Robin, I was wondering if I got the time wrong.” You smile, not entirely acknowledging them yet. You're unsure and that simply won’t do in a group like this, one that thrives on the ability to read each other so perfectly.

“What are you doing out in the cold?” Steve manages, taken aback when  you find him so exposed beneath the lights of the theater. It’s only been a week but the loss of you was more potent than he realized, like a missing sense, something that’s horrible to live without.

“Just thinking.” 

“What are you thinking about?” Dustin offers when Steve seems suddenly short of speech. 

“I’m wondering what it would be like if I were the only person in the world. I think I would be perfect, you know. I would be perfect and then I would die, perhaps earlier than I should, and should I die there will be no one left and that’s just fine.” 

“That’s deep.” You crack a smile and Steve can tell Dustin is proud of himself. 

“You must be Dustin. It’s very nice to meet you.” 

“You too! I’m glad you’re here, Steve has been moping around all night.” Steve knocks Dustin’s signature cap from his mop of curls, the kid goes spirling after it before it becomes a casualty of the masses scaling the sidewalk.

“Don’t be a jerk, Steven, he’s not wrong.” Robin so dutifully sprinkles the last bit, holding her hand outward expectantly. “Give me your wallet, I’ll buy the tickets.” 

“What happened to being a good friend?” He challenges, still freeing his wallet from his tight denim jeans. 

“Oh, I’m being a very good friend.” Robin snags Dustin by the collar of his shirt and drives him through the entrance with careful consideration for the bodies piled outside the doors. Steve sees you reaching for your wallet and slots his hand over yours. 

“I got it.”  

“Oh that’s…” You must calculate the way his lips cave because you stop yourself and glance toward the other half of your party. “Have you really been moping? You were so excited for him to come, don’t be dull.”

“I’m not trying to be.” He sulks, pulling you toward one of the towering alcoves where no one is close enough to hear or interrupt. “I need you to be upset with me.” 

The concept seems foreign to you, like there’s no reason for such an idea to even transpire in the darkest part of your thoughts. Your fingers bunch in the fabric of your skirt, it’s solid white and Steve is wondering how many you went through before you realized no other color would go. 

“Why would I be upset?”

“Because of what Heather said, about me asking around about you.”

“Heather doesn’t know when to shut up.” You mumble, reaching for the hand hanging limply at Steve’s side. “I was never mad about it, I just—I know the things people say about me and what Heather said about knowing the answer…I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted, to use me and then tell everyone.” 

“That’s not what I want, please don’t think that. I wanted to know you before I heard all that stupid shit they say.” 

“I don’t, I promise.” You extend your pinky, Steve hooks it through his own and brings the connection to rest against his lips. “I wasn’t sure if I should leave you alone after what happened. You never came by or anything.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I should leave you alone and I didn’t wanna push.” 

“You shouldn’t. Don’t leave me alone.” You manage, rocking on the balls of your feet with your lip between your teeth. Steve is just about to suggest a pact, the kind established with his lips pressed against yours beneath the cover of fluorescence but he’s interrupted by Dustin rounding the corner with his arms thrown wide. 

“What the hell!? The movie is about to start and Robin and I made sure to get the best seats so hurry up!” Steve is about to tell him to get lost but you give him a terribly expressive sort of look: don’t be dull.

“We’re coming,” He doesn’t give you space to get too far, taking you by the hand and leading the way through the throngs of people, trying to keep track of Dustin bouncing amongst them. 

The seats they found were perfect, right in the center of everything, and when you stole the seat between Steve and Dustin the lights were already lowering. Robin passes along Steve’s wallet and a bucket of popcorn to share, Night of the Living Dead, the first film of your evening slate.  

It hits Steve then, with your bodies separated by the thin armrest and the pointless dialog between siblings projected on screen. A moment comes full circle, his earlier rejection taking mercy on his lapse in judgment. 

“Didn’t you already see this?” He leans close enough not to disturb anyone enjoying the film. “A few weeks ago you asked me to come.” 

“You said ‘no’.” It’s simple really, the way Steve feels in this moment like you were wrong. 

Like he’s the dumbest person in the world. 

He recalls the photos plastered along your wall, and the way it struck you as odd when he likened you to strangers. You spent hours taking those photos, pondering over the coordination of colors to paint the perfect picture of you. Steve had done nothing more than invade your privacy but in that moment you deemed him worthy of knowing some of the deepest parts of you and he only seems to understand it now. 

It’s so much more than a desire not to sit alone in a darkened theater watching corpses tear into flesh. It’s the burning. The feeling of so slowly burning alive and hoping the other person will notice just how much effort goes into that feeling of turning yourself to ashes until you find an ocean to tame it completely. A bonfire waiting for the waves to lick the sand. 

“I’m an ocean.”

“What?” Your attention had gone back to the film, the first of many zombies hiking across the screen in search of an unwilling victim. 

“We should kiss.”

“Steve, we’re in the middle of a theater and I’m not sure it’s that kind of film.” You think he’s joking until you turn, his eyes focused on you entirely. You lean in, close enough to touch, both of you hoping Heather is as far away from you as possible. You pause, the whole thing feeling fundamental at this stage, but so horribly important all the same. “...just to see?” 

“Just to see.” 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington college au #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things college au

[deludedfantasy]

Trimax Vol 12 Ch 5-9

Alright, here goes, second half of the volume. As always my suffering continues and I wanted to shake Vash the Stampede because he has no sense of self-preservation.

Ch 5 

Listen, I’ll never be able to shut up about how much Vash loves humanity despite how terrible they’ve been to him. He knows!! He knows how awful people can be! He’s witnessed it firsthand. But still, he says, “I can’t judge them. I don’t know what they’ve been through or what led them here. Because there’s always a reason.” 

It reminds me of the ultimate thesis of The Good Place: That people can only be judged by the circumstances and the world they were raised in, because that influences so much of how we act and the choices we have about who we are and who we can be. 

I can’t believe Vash stayed with Knives for 80 years after the Fall. Considering how angry he was at his brother, it’s mind-boggling. On the other hand, he didn’t have anyone else. Vash, at this point, didn’t know or understand humanity beyond Rem. All he has in this world is Knives, so he can’t leave him. That knowledge that they’re stuck together even though Vash doesn’t want to be is what makes them grow apart. 

Can’t believe Vash has had the same backpack for 70 years. That bag must be indestructible or something. 

They’re still so young is what gets me. They might be eighty, but they still look and likely act a bit like children. Is it an Independent Plant thing or have they been stunted, only spending time around each other for so long? 

Also, love that one day Vash just decides to get in a stranger’s car to get away from Knives. 

Once again, Vash points a gun at Knives…and he doesn’t shoot. Knives get in his face and puts his head to the barrel and still, Vash doesn’t shoot. 

Knives has never had a problem killing, especially to protect his brother, who he thinks is a naive idiot. He murdered an entire village, adults and children, just to protect him from whatever they were going to do to him. 

How does Knives manage to look so young and innocent after murdering an entire town?

So interesting to me how Vash asks Knives to stay with him when his brother walks away. If I’m reading this right, Knives decides to leave him once and for all, because he’s done dealing with Vash’s human sympathies. But even though Vash was the one who walked away first, he doesn’t want his brother to go. If it was just about not killing people he would’ve just said, “Don’t go.” But instead, he says, “Stay with me.” Stay with me, don’t leave me by myself. Somewhere deep down, Vash still loves him and he doesn’t want to see Knives become this. 

Is this the first time Vash shoots somebody? It’s so brutal that the first person he ever shoots, the reason he picked up a gun in the first place, is his own brother. 

It doesn’t even seem to do much to him. It’s more of a nuisance. But Knives lobs it back at him tenfold. Because he doesn’t really care about Vash. He casually chops his entire arm off just to teach him a lesson. That a gun—a human weapon—will never be as powerful as the blades of an Independent Plant. 

Then, Vash spends the next 70 years training to prove him wrong. This moment, this failure, it’s what sits at the core of Vash and what motivates him to become the gunman, Vash the Stampede. Because next time, he won’t miss. 

Though I don’t actually think he was shooting to kill in this moment. That was the intent Knives put on him. I think Vash just wanted to get his attention, but Knives turned it into that and Vash ran with that because that’s a lot simpler than the very complicated feelings he has about him.

“Don’t worry, Knives. This time, when you go, I go.” Vash…please don’t say that. He’s so ready to die for this. He doesn’t see a future for himself anymore. 

Actually, what is Vash doing? He doesn’t just miss, he’s too good to do that. He’s up to something. 

Wow, I hate how right my last thought was. Vash, stop talking like this! I think there are many people that would disagree with this statement!

Ch 6

Is Knives creating holes in his body to dodge Vash’s shots? Because that’s…urgh. That’s a lot. 

Ah-ha! Vash does have some other plan in the works that doesn’t involve outright killing Knives. And Knives is just now starting to get it. The way he looks down on Vash and humans will ultimately be his downfall. He thinks the fact that Vash won’t kill is stupid and naive but then also thinks that humans are terrible because they’re nothing but murderous scum…while he also goes around murdering people left and right. Ah, Knives, your hypocrisy knows no bounds. 

Oh, they’re trying to communicate with the dependent Plants! This has never been brought up as a possibility before. Is that what the conversation in the Plant room a couple chapters ago was about? 

Knives just doesn’t get it. It’s not necessarily about forgiveness (though Vash certainly has thoughts about that too). It’s about understanding, and not letting your impulses and first impressions cloud your judgment completely. As the story Vash then tells goes on to prove.

Those people were preying on travelers for a reason. They’d been turned out from everywhere else because they were contaminated. They had no other way to survive. If I’m reading this right, those people in the village were the same ones that had fought so hard to keep the contamination from spreading so far. In doing something noble, they damned themselves. It’s the tragedy of human existence collapsed into one story.

And that poor girl. She survived the contamination and Knives’s slaughter. She lost everyone she cared about because she refused to shun them as everyone else did. Being a survivor twice over is a terrible thing. But also, she’s the embodiment of human love in the midst of tragedy. She didn’t dismiss them, despite the contamination and what they did to survive. She loved them because they were hers, and it didn’t matter what had become of them. 

The fact that Vash stayed and listened, tried to understand, says a lot about him. He has always wanted to understand humanity, its good parts and its bad parts. That’s why he defends them so fervently, because he has experienced the whole of the human condition, unlike Knives who is so stuck on only the worst of humanity, refusing to see the good that survives despite all the tragedy. 

You say it, Vash! Knives is ignorant. His arrogance is a shield that protects him from harm but also keeps him from seeing the hard truth. 

Goddammit, it’s the military! I completely forgot about them. Thank God for whoever is driving that shuttle, otherwise Vash would’ve had to spend much more of himself stopping the Plants from getting hurt than focusing on Knives. 

Ah, yay, Meryl and Milly to the rescue! Causing chaos in the name of Vash the Stampede, as they should. 

Don’t be sorry, Brad! Vash is grateful (and also probably thinking how much he doesn’t deserve it, but we’re gonna ignore that) and it’s exactly what he needed in that moment. 

Being reminded that he has friends to help him will only give him the strength he needs to keep fighting. 

Oh no, I feel so bad for Chronica. She’s lost her friend. And obviously, Domina was much younger than her, someone with a bright future that Chronica was so looking forward to seeing. Now, Knives has taken that away from her. Except it’s only strengthened her will. She’s about to go all out in the name of revenge, I can tell. 

Ch 7

Oh no, Meryl and Milly are in trouble! Not my best girls!

Was that Vash’s blood? What happened? Because it doesn’t look like Knives actually got a hit in. 

Oh…he’s bleeding from the eyes and the everywhere? I guess? Because he’s pushing himself to the brink of death and using up all of his power. 

I need to include this panel because…just look at him! He’s bleeding from the eyes again, this time because he’s pushing himself to the brink of death to fight Knives. And he’s so determined to do it. There’s nothing in those eyes but raw will and hatred. 

So the Earth fleet isn’t aware of Vash’s presence at all! They’re gonna be in for a big surprise when they realize there’s another Independent on the planet and he’s trying to stop Knives. 

Yay, Livio to the rescue! He’s helping out the girls because they’re Vash’s friends. He’s so nervous though, and I totally get it, but he’s not messing anything up. Livio is so hard on himself because he wants to do better, but Livio, my friend, a little awkwardness never hurt anyone. 

Livio has turned over a new leaf, but he’s still gonna do things his way. Which means not tip-toeing around talking or negotiating, but acting. But he’s right. There’s only so long they can keep the military distracted. They have to find a way to stop them so they don’t keep interfering with what Vash is doing because he can’t afford to be distracted from his fight with Knives for a second.

Ahhhhh, Vash is running out of time! Knives knows it too and he’s using it to his advantage, tiring him out rather than killing him, because Vash is basically doing his job for him. 

Also, I remember someone mentioning how Nightow doesn’t use the character coughing blood/bleeding from the nose trope often so it’s really significant and shows how dire things are when they do. And when was the last time we saw someone bleeding like this? When Wolfwood was on the verge of death…

Ch 8

We’re receiving so much Plant lore here. It’s so interesting that they apparently don’t have a sense of self. But from what I understand, they aren’t a hive mind either! They’re like a collective consciousness, each individual adding up to a whole. Add Independents into the mix though and then things get a lot more complicated. Because it seems like they’re the ones who are behind all the fusing even though dependents Plants are probably capable of it on their own.

Vash, no!!!! I can’t tell, did Knives hit him with something or did Vash just overextend himself and collapse in a bloody heap? Either way, he’s just spurting blood everywhere and I’m scared. 

Meanwhile, Livio is out here serving absolute cunt, if I do say so myself. 

Oh Vash…despite how hurt and exhausted he is, he’s still trying to get up. He’s sees the world and the city, and it’s enough to remind him what he’s fighting to protect. All those people huddled down there, all of his friends. He’s not done until he knows they’re safe. He has to see this to the bitter, bloody end. 

Elendira? Chronica?? Legato??? What’s going on? There’s a lot of people popping up out of nowhere!

Though it seems like connecting with the Plants gave Chronica a better view of the situation on the planet because now she knows Knives’s name and is apparently going after him directly. 

Also, who was Vash planning to shoot? Knives? Is that why Legato finally makes his appearance? To keep Vash from killing Knives? 

Ch 9

And now we briefly return to Vash in the oubliette. Sorry, I still can’t get over that Knives get him locked in a glorified hole in the ground for 7 months. 

Apparently, during that time Vash tried talking some sense into Legato and learned how pointless of an exercise that is. Because Legato is devoted. His life doesn’t matter, only serving Knives does. And this chapter, we’re gonna find out why that is.

Oh boy, I’m not prepared to read this again. I was truly not expecting what I found out the first time and it’s haunted me ever since. 

Suddenly, everything about Legato makes sense. Of course he hates humanity. He watched them pass him by every day as he suffered, as he was used. It takes a special kind of rage and hurt to produce the kind of hatred in a person that would lead to them using their powers to slaughter an entire city. 

Something in me also squirms uncomfortably at the idea of Legato wanting to serve him after all he’s been through. But then again, at least this time he gets to choose who he serves and what he does. This being had the power to decimate all those people Legato hated in an instant. He gave him the revenge he’d craved for so long. All that power Knives had, isn’t it what he’d dreamed of having himself when he made his plans to slaughter that town? 

And how strange that must be for Knives. A human wanting to serve him, being awed by him. Does he think this is the treatment he deserve as a Plant? What exactly was going through his head when Legato sank to his knees and offered him his service? This is likely the first time he’s let a human get so close to him on their own. It’s such an intriguing meeting that leads to an even more intriguing dynamic. 

A lot of people have said it better than I have, but Knives does seem to care about Legato. He probably recognizes in him the way humanity uses and discards things so easily. In a way, they’re kindred spirits. But the downfall of their relationship is that Knives ideology keeps him from truly getting close to Legato or letting him in. Because all humans are bad and evil, and in the end, even Legato has to die. 

Hang on, is the implication here that Knives was the one who named Legato? I can’t even put into words how big a deal that is. A name is huge, it’s a marker of individuality and humanity and the fact that Knives gave that to someone, let alone that he did that for a human, is kinda insane.

#trigunbookclub #trigun

[areiton]

Cap-IM Rec Week Day 3

 It’s All About AUs  today!!! AU’s are my favorite, when talented authors take my favs and put them in a completely different situation and world and still makes them recognizable. Whittling it down for today’s rec list for @cap-ironman was especially difficult, but here are five of my favorite kinds of AUs. 

(By Any Other) Name by Captain_Panda

When Steve went down with the Valkyrie, he thought his days with dragons were over.

Then he meets Tony Stark, who inherited Howard Stark's dragon.

As the kids say: "It's complicated."

This Dragon!AU series is my favorite dragon AU. The world building is excellent, as is the relationship developed between Steve and Tony. I think I’ve read it a half dozen times and already look forward to the next reread. 

Knight of Wands by Sineala 

Steve has reigned as king for ten years, and in a few days peace will finally come to his kingdom. Representatives of the Kree Empire are soon to arrive for the negotiations that will end the war between them once and for all. Steve is looking forward to settling down, with his hand-picked Avengers at his side -- led, of course, by the masked knight Iron Man -- and also his trusted advisors, the most beloved of whom is Tony, his court magician, the most powerful mage in all the land.

But when Steve's life is endangered, Tony makes the greatest sacrifice of all to protect his king, a sacrifice far greater than his life. And when Tony disappears under mysterious circumstances, Steve learns that even his closest friends keep secrets that he could never have suspected.

I have a soft spot a mile wide for King/Lionheart stories, especially when Steve is the king and Tony is advisor/wizard/knight. It’s just a perfect dynamic, and as always, Sine is flawless at telling a story. 

I Whisper Your Name on Each Star I See Falling by JezebelGoldstone, littleblackbow

The day Natasha first told Steve her idea, he never would have dreamed that her fool notion would land him here: watching the train roll into the station and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that somewhere in there is the man who agreed to marry him.

Steve, an alpha farmer living outside a small town in the Rockies who doesn't want to admit how lonely he is, has been exchanging letters with omega Tony for nearly a year. When at last Tony arrives in Big Eden, Steve is confronted with the fact that he doesn't know Tony as well as he thought he did - and falls for him harder than a landslide anyway.

This one is hard--arranged marriage au’s are near and dear to my heart, and picking just one was near impossible. But how soft Steve is with Tony in this one breaks me every time I read it, so--here you are. 

Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree by Annie D (scaramouche)

Steve doesn’t mind that Tony doesn’t return his feelings. He just would've preferred if it didn’t come with the side effect of his coughing up flowers and possibly dying.

I struggled between hanahaki or soulmate AUs, and decided on this because I’d put soulmates in an earlier list this week. Hanahaki is both beautiful and heartbreaking, just the way I like my fic. This one is amazing. 

ad astra by Areiton 

The first time he kissed Tony Stark, the stars danced overhead.

Ok, I might be cheating a little by including my own AU here, but. I really love this one? It’s a space AU which I always love, and plays with the movie from 2019. Anyway, it remains one of my favorite pieces of writing. 

#capimrecweek #cap-im #stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america