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#Also- SUNDAY HOW??? AND HEIR???
sundays-wing-piercing · 3 months
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It’s @pix3lplays
The Sunday delusions have gotten too strong. Last night I was DREAMING about him. I was like…a detective or something, and I was investigating the Family, and Sunday was the prime suspect for all sorts of misdeeds.
And I kept finding SO much evidence against him. I could’ve put him in jail. But I was so delusional I was just like nah it wasn’t him idk what the evidence says.
He was NOT into me when I got the chance to question him. Checks out tbh.
He was very polite but in the way employees are polite with customers, lol.
How does Private eye Pixel sound?
His boyfailure rizz and harmony mind powers have gaslighted you. Thats all I gotta say. I have read a fic where he has the same harmony tuning thing that Robin does at the start of the quest but his is apparently strong enough to the point of mind control so imagine the family using that to deter investigations and what not but ngl the speech sounds very him he does have a customer service voice
Bro i've been trying to dream of him nonstop like- the closest I got was a dream where apparently I was such a good friend of him that he asked me to marry Robin BECAUSE HE TRUSTED ME AS A FRIEND AND HE WANTS A GOOD PARTNER FOR ROBIN FOR US TO CREATE AN HEIR safe to say I was devastated
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ceruark · 15 days
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liquid courage
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synopsis: aventurine leaves your drunk boss on your doorstep. notes: ceo! sunday x gn! personal assistant! reader. modern au (he's still an angel though, don't ask me how or why. the wings are important to me). fluff. cw: none! (implied aventurine/ratio, but nothing major) words: 3,147 inspiration: every kdrama ever
It was, for the first time in several months, a relaxing night.
After weeks of traveling between worlds and meeting with various business partners, you finally landed back in the place you called home: a rather luxurious unit in Golden Hour's finest apartment complex. It was far too big for one person and beyond what you dreamed of affording growing up, but it was necessary.
Not only were Golden Hour's Platinum Terraces a fifteen minute drive away from Dewlight Pavilion, but they also had the best security Penacony could offer. As the personal assistant of Halovian Corporation's esteemed CEO, you had a rather large target on your back. So, despite your initial hesitations, you'd agreed to live in the flashiest building in Golden Hour.
It wasn't like your wallet was suffering because of it. The astronomical cost of rent hardly put a dent in what the Oak Family deposited into your account every other week.
You sighed and stretched out leisurely on your couch, flipping through the channels until you settled on a showing of one of your favorite movies. You let it play in the background while you responded to messages from friends you hadn't had the chance to get back to during the trip. In between enthusiastic conversations and pictures of the fancy meals and hotels you'd stayed at, you scrolled through your social media accounts, grimacing at your feed when it recommended a picture taken of you without your knowledge.
It shouldn't have surprised you that being around Sunday constantly would put you under the same spotlight he grew up in. Heir to the Oak Family's fortune and beloved by Penacony's citizens, the only person on the planet who could complain about having more cameras shoved in their face on a daily basis was his darling sister. As his assistant, you showed up in almost every photo his fans snapped of him. Over the past four years, his fanbase picked apart everything about you: your appearance, your upbringing, your interests, and your lifestyle habits. You weren't quite sure what spurred them on— sheer jealousy at your proximity to him, or their infatuation for him extending to you— but they had all reached the same conclusion: you were rather unremarkable.
You were raised by your parents in a suburb about 30 miles out from Golden Hour. You performed well enough in university, graduating in the top percent of your class, but not as valedictorian. You managed to get hired at Halovian Corp out of college, and you'd been consistently promoted each year since then, moving from secretary to administrative secretary to personal assistant of a high-ranking director, until eventually, you ended up at Sunday's side.
Though your career was impressive, your life lacked intrigue that news outlets and Sunday's fans vied for. You didn't come from money, you weren't dating anyone famous, and therefore, you weren't worth thinking about. You preferred things that way, but it still didn't make seeing pictures of yourself floating around online any easier.
(Especially when people began overanalyzing how Sunday spoke to you in this video, or looked at you in that photo. Their theories had substance to back them up, and you didn't like to think about it. It took damn near two years to perfect the professional front you kept up with your gorgeous boss, thank you very much, and it had only been about a year since he started actually acting himself around you— you couldn't afford to start slipping up now.)
As you scrolled past a fancam of Robin, a message notification popped up at the top of your screen. You tapped on it, and raised an eyebrow at the sender.
Aventurine: hey. you in?
The IPC director was an unlikely friend, but after dealing with Sunday for years and becoming the unofficial point of contact between the IPC and Halovian Corp, you'd started seeing him often enough that you agreed to go to a bar with him one night when you were off the clock. He was good company, and the two of you kept in touch.
One day, after finding out you'd been talking with Aventurine outside of business ventures, Sunday was oddly insistent that he join you two on that night's excursion. You were hesitant to agree, given that Sunday and Aventurine were civil at best and downright antagonistic at worst. But, Aventurine had readily agreed to letting Sunday attend, so you said yes as well. The night had gone better than expected, and after a few more impromptu meetings, Sunday had started talking to Aventurine regularly as well.
You were glad to see your overly cautious boss make a friend, even if he would never admit that they were.
You: yeah, what's up?
His response was instantaneous.
Aventurine: great. let me in, will you?
Your eyebrows drew together. You'd mentioned you lived in the Platinum Terraces, but you'd never brought Aventurine back to your apartment. How did he know where you live?
You leaned off the couch and toward the coffee table to pick up one of the screens hooked up to the alarm system. You tapped a few buttons on the screen until the feed from the camera facing the hallway came up.
Aventurine stood in front of your door, talking animatedly to your boss, who was propped up against him. You couldn't see his face, but you didn't need to to know he was inebriated. He probably wouldn't be so close to the blonde otherwise.
"What the hell?" You muttered, rushing over to the door. Sunday hardly ever drank, and if he did, it was never enough to get him past the point of tipsy. You quickly undid the bolts and threw it open.
Aventurine and Sunday looked up at you. Amusement danced in the former’s eyes, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be very pleased with himself.
Sunday blinked slowly, adjusting his vision to the sudden disappearance of the door. His eyes scanned your face for a moment before his features lit up with recognition. His wings twitched a bit as he tilted his head to the side. The slightest of smiles pulled at his mouth, and your name fell from his lips in the form of a whispered question.
You flushed red. You suddenly felt very self-conscious of your Hanu themed pajama pants.
Your gaze snapped back to Aventurine, who smirked back at you. You ignored it. "What happened?"
"We went out drinking and someone—" He turned to Sunday, whose gaze still hadn't left you. "—got a little carried away."
"And you didn't think to take him back to Dewlight Pavilion?"
"I think you and I both know there would be consequences if he returned there in this state."
You grimaced. He was right. Undoubtedly, there would be paparazzi camped outside of the Oak Family's estate. There always was.
"Okay, you didn't think to take him back to your place?"
Aventurine moved his free hand to his chest in mock offense. "Bringing a drunken man home to my brilliant boyfriend who's already waiting for me in bed? You must be praying on my downfall."
You glowered at him, but before you could respond, the rustling of feathers caught your attention. You turned, watching your boss sway on his feet. He watched you with a frown, appearing more upset than you'd ever seen him.
"You don't want me here?" He pouted, and his wings fluttered dejectedly.
Your stomach flipped over, and you reached out to grab his other arm as he stumbled away from Aventurine.
"No, no, that's not it." He moved away from the blonde completely as you reassured him, leaning into your touch. You grunted as you struggled to keep him upright. "I'm just worried about you being somewhere you don't feel comfortable."
He hummed, leaning forward and nuzzling his face in your hair. "I'm far more comfortable with you than the gambler."
Aventurine watched the two of you, smugness rolling off him in waves. "Yeah," he laughed, "we can see that."
You were going to kill Aventurine. You were going to tuck Sunday into your bed, leave a glass of water and an Advil on the nightstand, and then you were going to hit the blonde with your car.
You shot him another glare before turning back to Sunday. You pulled one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapped one of yours around his waist to steady him. He turned bright red suddenly and you opened your mouth to ask him if he felt sick, but his wings started flapping again. This close, a few feathers smacked into your mouth, and you sputtered.
Aventurine's unrestrained laughter brought your attention back to him. You snapped at him. "Can you make yourself useful and get the doors for me?"
It took everything you had left in you to get Sunday into your bedroom and withstand Aventurine's teasing, but eventually, you managed to get there. You eased Sunday down on the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ensure he stayed sitting upright.
"Are you feeling sick?" You asked.
Sunday shook his head. He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder. Fighting down another blush (you refused to give Aventurine more ammunition), you tried to pull yourself away from him, but he wrapped his arms around yours and held on.
"Sunday," you said, "I need to go get you water. Can you let go of me, please?"
His voice was muffled by your shirt. "Aventurine can get it."
Said man huffed, but he was too entertained to be truly annoyed, or to decline. "Sure I can," he agreed, before addressing you. "Where are your cups?"
"Top right cabinet," you answered, and he set off.
Sunday's head lolled to the side, rolling off your shoulder. His pout was still there, and it set your face aflame. "It's too hot," he complained.
And then he started to take his coat off.
Well, he tried to. His clumsy movements caused it to get tangled in his arms.
"Here, let me help you," you offered against your better judgment. You stood and reached behind him, carefully guiding his arms out of the sleeves. You turned around and walked over to your closet, hanging the coat on a nearby hook.
When you faced him again, he already had his shirt halfway off.
Xipe, give me strength, you thought to yourself, tearing your gaze away from his bare skin. Your gaze lingered on the wings sprouting from his lower back, which sat curled around his abdomen. When he managed to get the shirt over his head and onto the floor, he unfurled the second set of wings. They spanned the entire length of your bed and were much darker than the ones by his hair. He gave a few languid flaps before settling down, causing them to droop. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against them. So much for keeping up your professional front. You had no idea how you were going to face him when he sobered up.
A choked gasp prompted you to drop your hands from your face. Aventurine almost dropped the glass in shock when he returned. 
"Well," he said as he placed the glass down on the nightstand. "Seems like it's time for me to leave."
You sent him one last scathing glare. "I can't believe you."
Faux innocence crept onto his face. "Whatever do you mean? I haven't done anything."
You crossed the room and shoved at him. "Out." You pushed him back down the hall and to the open front door. "Get out of my house."
"Wow. Eager aren't we?" He winked at you.
"Eager to get my revenge. Veritas will love the video I have of you drunk and blubbering about how much you miss him," you said. Then you slammed the door in his face.
As soon as the door shut, Sunday called for you from the bedroom. You'd heard him use a sickly sweet tone with clients before, but this one lacked the venom that usually accompanied it. It was like he was singing each syllable of your name, savoring the way each sound rolled off his tongue.
"I need to type up my resignation," you muttered to yourself. You could handle Sunday in the beginning when he was standoffish and paranoid, but there was no way you were making it through this.
You walked back to the room, willfully overlooking the way his hanging wings straightened up when you reappeared in the doorway. You stopped a few feet in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
"Hey," you said softly. "Let's get you to bed, alright?"
Sunday blinked at you, then looked down at the comforter under his fingers. "I am at the bed."
You snorted. "Well, we should get you under the covers."
His nose scrunched in displeasure. "No. It's too warm for that."
You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him in this state. "Alright, then. Lay down, and make sure to stay on your side. If you feel sick, there's a trash can right here by the bed. If you need anything else, I'll be down the hall."
You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist with surprising speed. He stared up at you with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"
You tilted your head at him. "Um, to bed?"
His brow furrowed slightly, the way it usually did when he was in deep thought. "But this is your bed."
"Yes, it is." You slipped your wrist out of his grasp, but he caught you again by the fingers. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. I won't be far."
The hold he had on your fingers was tighter than you thought. You pulled away, expecting to be freed, but tripped a bit when the rest of your body didn't follow your legs. He pulled you toward him and tumbled forward, falling onto the bed. He moved over and drew you closer to him, draping one of his wings across your waist and legs.
You didn't know if your heart had stopped, or was just beating so fast you couldn't feel it.
"Um, Sunday," you said, the rest of your words coming out as a babbled mess. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he just clung on to you, refusing to let go.
"Please don't leave me," he mumbled.
You finally managed to put enough distance between you two that you could look him in the eye. "Sunday," you said, "you're drunk. You're going to regret this in the morning."
He frowned. "I will not regret something I've dreamed of doing for months."
In the end, it was neither. You were certain your heart was beating so hard it burst, and now you were dead. When you tried pulling away again, he placed a hand on your cheek, freezing you in place.
"Please," he whispered. "Just give me five minutes."
The desperation in his voice whittled away at the rest of your resistance. You settled down on the mattress, allowing him to hold you but not getting close enough for it to be considered cuddling. Staring at the ceiling in silence, you mulled over his words.
He was dreaming about cuddling, or intimate touch of some sort. It shouldn't be surprising that a twenty-seven year old man longed for that kind of companionship, but whenever other members of The Family had brought up him not having found a partner yet, he always shrugged them off. You figured it was because he generally wasn't interested in finding someone, but maybe it was just that he didn't want the rest of The Family involved in something as personal as his love life.
"I can talk to Robin about suggesting eligible suitors for you, if you want," you said. "We can even outsource their background checks to the IPC. Aventurine will be annoying about it, but I'm sure he'll agree to do it."
There was a long stretch of silence. Sunday finally spoke just as you'd begun to regret your words. "Why would you do that?"
You looked at him, confused. "You said you've dreamed of this."
"Yes," he said, "I did say that."
Was he really going to make you spell it out for him? Well, it had to be more embarrassing for him than it was for you. "If you desire... intimacy, it's only natural we start looking for potential suitors for you."
His eyes darkened, and a slight scowl pulled at his lips. At least this face was familiar: disappointment.
"I just told you I've dreamed of this," he muttered.
You nodded in agreement. "You've dreamed of holding someone."
"I've dreamed of holding you."
Oh. That complicated things.
You swallowed back a fit of nervous laughter. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. "I'm sorry." Your voice came out as hardly more than a croak. "I wasn't aware that's what you meant."
He leaned forward, eyes earnest. "Do you still want to look for other suitors for me?"
You considered your words carefully. "Not if it's something you don't want."
He hummed, then laid his head against the pillow. His breath fanned over your face as he spoke. It smelled like mint and whiskey. "Do you want to be my suitor?"
You pulled your gaze away from his lips and to his eyes. You didn't even know how your eyes got there. "I think you should ask me again when you're sober."
He studied your face for a long moment, then let his eyes flutter shut. "Fair enough," he said.
You laid there for a moment, allowing your heart rate to come back down and letting yourself take him in. His lips were slightly parted, even breaths slipping through them as sleep claimed him. His face wings twitched ever so often, usually followed by a twitch of the larger wing still wrapped around you.
You weren't certain how long you stayed there, just studying him, but at some point your blinks had grown heavier and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You gave one last shove against Sunday's arm and wing to try and free yourself, but even unconsciously, his resolve could not be shaken. He huffed at the disturbance and buried his face further into the pillow. His wing tightened around you as he tried to curl in on himself, dragging you closer to him.
You sighed and rested your head on the pillow again. It was going to be impossible to get away from him now that his limbs were heavy with sleep. Knowing it was futile to try again, you let your eyes slip shut. You shifted into a more comfortable position, moving one of your arms to rest on top of the wing.
Five minutes, you lied to yourself. I'll try again in five minutes.
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hotpinkstars · 1 month
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GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader
- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️
- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy
- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711
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Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.
Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.
Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 
Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).
Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.
His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.
Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 
Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…
Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here
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Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man
He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!
Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol
His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.
She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).
Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.
She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh
He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.
She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.
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crimsonbubble · 4 months
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Hi it's anon who was hornyspeaking about Johnny's nose UR SO RIGHT ABOUT THICK PPL!!! I was thinking about MK1 men, I feel like none of them would turn their nose up at thicker!reader but i feel like some of them would actively pursue them.
I feel like it's just obvious Johnny would like thicker people. He'd always have his hands grabbing or touching you in some way and would def squeeze your softer parts just to watch them bounce back into place. Not to be cliche but look me in the eyes and try to tell me this man wouldn't buy you things that show off your body and accentuates every gorgeous curve and fold like c'mon. Would also make some corny ass comments like "my ears are cold, can I use your thighs to worn them?" or something like that.
Kung Lao would be similar to Johnny but I feel like he would tease you more about it. Not in a malicious way, but more of an affectionate way, calling you curvy girl/pretty boy/my little pudge while wrapping himself around you from behind and just lovingly squeezing the softness of your lower belly. I think he'd also playfully pinch the soft parts of your thighs, your arms, your waist and just smirk when you squirm at how sensitive and ticklish they are.
I feel like Syzoth would be a very touchy feely boyfriend since he's cold-blooded, so of course having a chubbier partner = more warmth and softness to curl up against and cuddle with. Would absolutely nuzzle his face into your stomach so lovingly, holding your thighs to gently press them into his face as he lays down and uses your soft tummy as a pillow, you're like his own little sunning rock. He's almost in tears at just how soft your skin is and how good it feels to just hold you in his arms and would be telling you how much he loves you the entire time.
Bi-Han wouldn't be as open about it, not because he's ashamed of having a thicker partner (quite the opposite) he just doesn't like to admit any weaknesses he might have. He would try and chalk it up to something along the lines of you having a more fertile body and being more likely to produce an heir for the Lin Kuei or something but in reality he just can't keep his eyes off your body, and when you're not around he can't keep you off his mind. Would also like to show you off as a status symbol, seeing you as proof of how powerful he is, priding himself on being able to keep you pampered and taken care of.
Liu Kang just appreciates beauty when he sees it, and he thinks your body is the most beautiful thing he's ever created. Very much a soft dom and would be heavy into body worship, so having a chubbier partner just means more to worship and lavish with affection. Mans would BURY himself in your softness. You can tell he's immortal because he spends so long kissing and caressing and praising every inch of your body like he has all the time in the world, which he does, so you're both gonna be there for a long time.
Sorry to ramble this is mostly projection I just needed to unleash my thoughts somewhere RAHHH I LOVE THICKER!READER‼️💥
cw. suggestive, gn!reader, thicker!reader, mentions of pregnancy *not proofread, just pure horny
[BRO THIS ASK IS LONG AS FUCK, still answered it tho]
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Johnny Cage
Casual Sunday lie-ins
Lounging on the couch with his head resting on your thighs
He’s the type to lose his mind when you wear form fitting clothes
Like anything that highlights and accentuates your curves good lord he's falling to his knees
And it doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen you hear tight fitting clothes, he will be bricked up every time
Kung Lao
He’s a very physical lover
Hugs, cuddles, snuggles, and any type of skin ship he can think of it benign used
Finds amusement in pinching at your waist and thighs
He likes how you frown at him for a second before going back to what you were doing
He always keeps a hand on your belly when he’ss between your thighs
He also loves to show off how strong he is so-
Syzoth
Soft and warm tummy and thighs means soft and warm pillows
It’s like he wants to be under your skin anytime that he clings to you
But he’s got the cutest pout and the prettiest eyes so you can’t help but give into him
Bihan
Bihan trying to avoid staring at you for too long bc all he can stare at are your hips
He had a thought of you being pregnant once and it’s been haunting him since
Literally can not look at you without getting hot under the collar
He works hard so he can show of how well taken care of you are
But seriously though, he stares at your hips too much
Just let him give you a child, help him produce an heir
Liu Kang
He has mastered the art of seeing the beauty is everyone and everything
You are no exception
There is a glow to you that outmatches everyone
There is something so alluring about your soft figure that has all of Liu Kang’s primal urges resurfacing
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jiminjamms · 2 months
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sex therapy :: 28. perfect timing
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chapter tags/warnings: therapist! toji. manipulative! naoya. toji defends you. naoya 100% has anger issues. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.
word count: 3.8k
notes: hugs to everyone! been a while, and my busy days at work (plus straggling mental health) have not been doing me favors. writing, reading, and interacting with you all have been bringing me joy. i spent extra time on this chapter to make this piece what i hoped it would be. enjoy. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo
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fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.
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Toji loved working on Sundays.
With his colleagues off, Sundays were the only day in the week when Toji could be the sole person in the therapy office. He appreciated the slowness that came with working on the weekends, allowing him to balance his time for scheduled appointments with unoccupied windows used to strategize and decompress.
He relished in the lull. The tranquility. The peace.
But alas, the serenity was cut short on this particular Sunday, as someone barged through the entrance like a wild boar, causing a rambunctious racket as the front door flung open with immense force.
The doorknob clanged against the wall, and Toji—sitting behind the reception counter—looked up from a patient file on his computer screen. 
With both curiosity and annoyance, he peered above his monitor. 
The black tips to blond hair. The sharp brown glare. The permanent frown. 
Who else could this have been but Naoya Zenin, presenting himself in the flesh?
The incomer’s expression consisted of nothing but antipathy as he bared his teeth at the doorway, his hands balled into fists by his sides. Based on how he glared upon seeing his older cousin, anyone could safely conclude that this man was beyond livid. 
Must he pester me on the weekend? Toji thought as he mentally shook his head, clucking his tongue faintly in disapproval. He had not seen Naoya ever since his official departure from the Zenin Corporation and household, which was months ago. From his recollection, the manchild before him had a fickle personality, bursting into immature fits that easily made someone younger (like his son Megumi) seem like the actual adult around. 
Given this, Toji legitimately did not understand how you had been putting up with Naoya as your husband. 
As for himself, Toji did his best to ignore the new presence, clicking his mouse as he resumed analyzing the file on his screen. He did not wish to spare a moment longer than necessary tending to the human tornado on his way. If Toji had wanted to deal with Naoya in person, he would have confronted him long ago. Rather, he had decided strategically to watch his cousin wreak havoc from afar to avoid interacting with his burdensome family. Everyone in the Zenin household, except for Mai and Maki, was not worth the aggravation that came with mere association. 
Now, especially with today’s booked schedule, Toji would not be able to make an exception to soothe Naoya’s upcoming tantrum.
On the other hand, Naoya had no better choice than to drag himself to his older cousin’s doorstep.
Had circumstances been any different, he also could not bother to see Toji again. He hadn't talked to Toji in months. Why would he? After many years of neglect and inferiority, Naoya finally achieved everything he wanted. 
Or so he thought. 
This was why, to face his estranged relative again—after recently learning that you had been seeing him for weeks—was a grand ego blow to Naoya, who could not accept the possibility that he was losing his reputation’s very foundation to the man he had envied all his life.
Recognizing the indignation that fumed from the current Zenin heir, Toji seized the opportunity to inveigle his cousin and greeted him with a cheer.
“Good morning!” he beamed, raising his hand in salutation. The scar by his lips flexed from his grin. “Do you have an appointment?”
Naoya scowled awfully.
"Great to finally see you again, Toji Zenin."
Immediately, the said man’s smile fell at his cousin's overly casual tone. "Woah, there,” he shot back. “Show some respect, will you? First, my last name is Fushiguro. Do not refer to me as Zenin. Second, calling me by my first name is bad manners. I'm older than you, kid."
Without question, the comment irked the blonde. Of all people in the universe, this was Naoya Zenin in question, a hubristic man who hated humiliation and the need to concede. His demeanor hardened with resentment while he struggled to maintain his composure.
"Fine, Mr. Fushiguro."
Toji quirked another smile.
Theoretically, he had no problem demanding more but decided to be nice by saying, “That’s better.” He locked his computer as he shifted his attention, crossing his arms as his back rested against his chair. “I haven't seen you in a while. Remember the days when you used to work here, too? Good times, hm?" All rhetorical chit-chat and pleasantries and, as expected, there was no response. "Well, I have only a few minutes to spare, after which I have business to attend. So...what brings you to visit?”
Another ironic question, as Toji already knew the answer. 
Over the phone, he had spoken with an irate Naoya who demanded to speak to his wife and have her back home. Despite his insufferable treatment toward you, the Zenin CEO could not stand how his apartment remained empty the past few nights, meaning he hadn’t gotten his dick soaked by his lawful spouse like he should be doing.
But then again, Toji thought, he already has a mistress to satisfy himself with.
Meanwhile, Naoya might as well be digging holes into his cousin’s skull from how his glower fizzed with malice. He opened his mouth, only to promptly purse his lips again to choose his reply carefully. 
“Did you make her see you?”
Quite a question.
Toji blinked rapidly through an empty stare. 
Where did that come from? 
“‘See me?’” he had to clarify.
In one smooth motion, Toji stood from his seat, his chair bouncing back slightly when he did. With his arms still folded over his chest, he meandered around the counter area that separated the client and employee zones in the reception area, stopping mere steps away from the younger man. 
Then, he repeated, “See me who?”
Naoya did not appear amused in the slightest.
His hazel eyes all but narrowed from vexation. The paroxysm of negative emotions on the blonde’s face made him appear ready to snap. Like a button ready to blast everything around him, he was close to letting his wrath take over. “Did you send my wife your therapist information just so that you could talk to her and figure out how to get revenge on me?”
What an oddly specific accusation.
“Why would I do such a thing?” It was more of a statement than a question, and Toji could see how his nonchalance profoundly irritated the other man. “She found me like how all my other therapy clients find me. But me reaching out to her personally merely to spite you? No. That's only some shit you would think to do. Unlike yourself, I'm not that petty."
Toji was blunt in his response, he knew.
In his defense, he would rather cut to the chase than beat around the bush. 
He no longer headed the Zenin conglomerate, but he still had a therapy practice to manage and a family to look after. With his packed schedule, every second mattered and he wasn’t the type to waste his time lingering around and dealing with non-important business matters, such as the grouchy kid with him.
His observations definitely blew a fuse within Naoya, though. 
"Excuse me?!" In two sharp steps, he closed the distance between Toji and himself, jabbing a finger into the other's chest. Bold. “You’re fucked, you know that? You’re so damn fucked," he hissed, and the edges of his mouth contorted into a derisive sneer. “You…You’re goddamn obsessed with Y/N, and you don’t even realize that! Give me a fucking break. You only give two hoots about the bitch because she’s my wife, but you don't actually give a shit about the woman herself.”
At that, Toji immediately swatted the hand from his pec.
“Incorrect, I do,” he retorted, his tone firm. “But do you care about her?” and he didn’t need to hear a response for that one, so he went on. “No, you do not. You know what? I found her situation sad because every time your wife talked about you, she told me about how you neglect and can’t satisfy her. This entire time, I was sorry for her precisely because I know the person you are. Fine, you call her your wife. What that means is she's not just a pussy for you to play with. You can’t just pick and choose different parts of her. But where were you when your wife was crying?” He paused briefly, letting his words sink into his silenced cousin’s head. “Where were you, hm? Where were you when she was upset? Anyone with eyes could’ve seen that she’s been having a hard time! But where?” and Toji gave Naoya one pointed glare. “Where…was her husband?”
In the sheets with an older woman.
Of course, that very husband would not admit that aloud, especially since he had yet to realize that his older cousin already knew about his affair with the other’s ex-wife. Instead, Toji saw Naoya twist his lips into a deeper frown.
“I have a company to lead,” was the excuse he spat out, and he ran both hands through his light strands in evident frustration. “I can’t believe our family thought that you were a capable leader. I, however, saw right through your facades, alright? Despite all your fucking degrees and licenses, you left the Zenin Corporation as a shithole for me to manage.” 
“No, I had set the company to run efficiently,” Toji retorted, keeping his levelheaded demeanor. “You turned the Zenin Corporation into—in your own words—a shithole. You decided to fire everyone I had hired. So currently, your managers are inept, your shareholders are unhappy, your daddy is getting angry, and the most convenient person to blame is me.” He shrugged dismissively. “Rookie mistakes. E for Effort, I guess. Luckily for you, Y/N is a good way to cover up the competence which you lack. Thus, she’s only useful when you deem her as such.”
Naoya scoffed, and his shoulders rose and fell with each enraged breath. “Because you don’t understand what a burden she can otherwise be. Besides, I can treat and use her in whatever way I please!”
He might not display this visibly, but Toji felt disgusted. 
“Don’t talk like you own her. That’s disrespectful. She's a person, not an object.”
"What—" Naoya paused, and his eyebrows creased in annoyance. "Who the fuck do you think you are? That woman is my wife.”
“Then treat her like one,” Toji shot back. While matching Naoya's hostility with his own, he could see the latter's eyes widen at the remark. Not that Toji paid him any mind, and he continued staring at his younger cousin with an unfazed demeanor that showed how willing he was to defend. "She might be your wife, but she is not your property.”
As if Naoya would care. 
Rather, he clenched his hands into tight fists by his sides. “You need to stay away from her. You’ve had your chances with marriages. Y/N is mine and not yours. I swear, if you talk about her with your gross lips again, I'll—" He stopped, as he wasn’t quite sure what would be a good threat. “I’ll—”
“You’ll do what, kid?” Toji interrupted, knowing just how pissed Naoya would get from every reminder of who the older person was and who the actual successor to the Zenin inheritance should be. “I’ll keep her since you can’t. You call her a burden, but I don’t find her to be one. I don’t know about you, but I like her. Have you ever had a civil conversation with her? She's sweet and quite interesting to talk to.”
The continuous comments unsurprisingly make Naoya bristle further.
“I said don’t talk about her like that!” he snarled. “Here you are, bossing me around and telling me to treat her better, but listen to how you talk about the woman! Holy shit, you're such a fucking creep.” 
“Me?” Toji repeated, appalled by his bravery to say those words. “Mind you, boy, she is the one who wanted to talk to me first. As her concerned therapist and the more mature adult, I believe I must listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”
Naoya breathed heavily, his chest undulating while he boiled with rage. Yet, as the younger, more naive, and less physically adept challenger, he could not make himself fight back against the other man. “You...You don’t know shit, Fushiguro.”
Immediately, Toji arched a brow. 
“Really?" Was that supposed to be an insult? "I don't know shit?" This was hilarious! "Oh, boy. I know a lot of fucking shit alright. About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.”
Naoya stared back, rather stupefied. 
In any other situation, he would simply take the remark as a cheap way to rouse him. Of course, talking about you would be the easiest route to do so. This time, though, Toji’s suspiciously happy visage as he retraced his steps to the counter and positioned himself comfortably against the surface had him uneasy. 
He did not like what the other man insinuated. 
"What...do you mean?" As much as he tried, Naoya could not hide how affected he appeared. “Our marriage is none of your damn business.”
Toji shrugged. "Marriage? What marriage? I don't see the rings on her finger, kid. Heard she tossed them. Apparently, you made her upset enough for her to take them off."
Without a better way to retaliate, Naoya clenched his teeth to signal his displease. “Ring or not, she’s still my wife,” he spat. “Plus, I do not want my wife around a womanizer like you.” 
Instead of taking umbrage from your husband’s words, Toji tossed his head to the side and let out a deep, harrowing chortle. “Wow! You’re one to talk," he rebuked. "The whole household used to joke about how you brought a different girlfriend to each of our family dinners. At the moment, you’re married, and what? You want your spouse to come home, but you then drive her away. You want her to be a good partner, but torment her when she does. Please, you are embarrassing yourself. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind?” With his emerald gaze returning to the younger man, Toji then added, “Now, if you excuse me. My next client is arriving and I have an appointment."
Still, Naoya was not ready to let the conversation end. “We’re not done. You think you’re all ‘high and mighty.’ But, you’re low, Toji. So, so low. Your last wife was a divorcee, and now you’re a motherfucker into married women, huh?” 
"So were you." 
"What?"
"Baby?"
And, in one go, all signs of life drained away from Naoya swiftly at the new voice. 
No fucking way, his expression seemed to read as he craned his neck around in rigid and robotic motions. Naoya had to blink twice to confirm the woman by the door before he placed his arms down and froze.
Mari, who returned the man’s aghast expression with perplexion, had her dark brows crinkled. “What…Why are you looking at me like that?” 
Even with Naoya’s face presently angled away, Toji could see his eyes widen at the ludicrous question. Yet, they both thought the same thing: did she forget where she was?
“What are you doing here? I did not expect you,” she continued. “But, I’m here for an…an appointment.”
Her voice trailed off.
When the woman finally seemed to remember that Toji was also there, her dark eyes rounded in alarm. Wait, her expression seemed to say as she very, very slowly dragged her sights to the man by the counter. Once her eyes met Toji’s, her jaw fell slack before she promptly slapped both hands over her gaping mouth. 
With the two visitors transformed into Medusa's stone statues, Toji took great gratification in the perfect timing. This coincidence far exceeded his expectations because he honestly did not anticipate ever being in the same vicinity as Naoya and Mari, yet here he was. Presented this chance, Toji pushed his bottom lip out in fake thought and furrowed his brows, pointing at Mari then Naoya then at Mari again. 
“Seems like you two know each other?” he asked in mock confusion, his finger swinging between the pair. “How come I didn’t get invited to the party? Has something been going on between my baby cousin and my ex-wife?”
No response.
So, he continued.
“What? Were you two spying on me or something?” (He knew the answer was yes.) “Or…wait,” and his voice dropped to a dangerous low, “Don’t tell me that you two…have been having an affair?”
Naoya—realizing the trap they had been set up in—swung his arm forward, prepared to defend them with whatever good lies he could spin (which Toji knew that he had a talent for), only for the woman to speak up first.
“We’re acquaintances.”
The manner in which Mari snapped caused Toji to pop a brow in surprise.
Oh? he noted. His suggestion on their illicit relationship appeared to strike a particular nerve. Even Naoya could sense the danger in his mistress’s overreaction as his eyes widened in horror. He tried to give her a warning expression, but she failed to see him. 
By the way, did Naoya, know that Mari—well—wasn’t very streetsmart? 
Maybe, but he likely prioritized keeping her in his bed to pay her absent wits any attention.
At this, Toji could not pass on the excellent opportunity to simultaneously provoke the two people who betrayed him. 
“Just acquaintances?” he pressed.
“Yes.” 
In another curt response, Mari pressed her lips into a firm line and shot Naoya a ‘shut the hell up and play along’ look, thinking she was slick when Toji only felt second-hand embarrassment from how utterly blatant the communication had been executed.
Pretending to nod along, Toji added, “Interesting. Because I never knew acquaintances called each other ‘baby.’”
Checkmate.
But the woman must not be thinking, as she sensed her inevitable defeat but hurriedly explained herself by saying, “It’s not what you think, Naoya and I haven’t had sex since—”
“Stop,” Toji interrupted before she could finish her sentence. That statement truly crossed the line. The lady must be inane. To talk about her dirty deeds with his relative as if that was appropriate! Clearly, she was oblivious to common sense and proper etiquette, given how she was desperate to try to save some face, resorting to the most crass justifications as if that would ameliorate the issue. Toji felt ashamed to think that he used to be married to this woman for years. While he noticed a fit of pique boiling within him, he ultimately let the ill feelings go. “I never asked about your sex lives. I don’t want to hear about what you two have been doing.”
Plus, the tabloids have shown him enough already.
Nonetheless, Mari’s face brewed with annoyance. She folded her arms firmly and tucked her chin outward. “Well, if that’s the case, then when and where I’m riding your cousin's dick should not matter!”
“Oh my fucking lord, stop talking already!” and this time, it was Naoya who spoke, shouting into his hands and cupping his face from sheer exasperation. He had been stunned speechless for a while but could no longer contain himself. When he picked up his head, he growled with rage as he raised a shaking finger at the woman. “You,” he seethed. “You’re saying all the wrong things! Holy fuck, bitch, how fucking blind are you? Unbelievable!” He leered to the side as if shaking off part of his rage, only to add on, “Just…Just shut the fuck up!”
The sudden, scathing comments soured Mari's mien in seconds. “Wait, but babe—”
“No.” Naoya cut her off right there. “Don’t ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ me with your bullshit anymore. Can’t you fucking see the atrocities you have fucking committed in the last ten minutes? You’re literally ruining my life! Even Y/N wouldn’t be stupid enough to say all the crap you just said! I should’ve never approached a dumb whore like you.”
While Toji had his eyes widened from silent bewilderment, tears began to roll down the woman's cheeks.
“That’s a lie!” For what must be her first time, she had to face the reality that, despite all the pleasure and company she offered Naoya Zenin after his tough days at work, he was an egotistical sociopath and a married man. "That's not what you've been telling me. You know I’m the only person who can make you happy, not the actual whore whom you have at home! These last few months, you would’ve been absolutely miserable without me!”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a reminder,” she hissed harshly. “You had said so yourself.”
At this point, Naoya found himself in the middle of a living nightmare.
To think about his wife who had been avoiding him for days, to see his loathsome cousin watch the scene like this was some sort of Netflix episode, and now to witness his mistress ridiculing him like a fucking fool.
“God dammit!” he roared. With animosity overwhelming his sanity, Naoya—who was already on the verge of destruction—only saw red as he lurched forward. He used his arms to sweep everything, all things, anything he could reach from a nearby tabletop onto the floor: a ceramic vase that shattered into shards, magazines that flew in all directions, a framed photograph that clinked upon descent. He didn’t stop there. Like a mid-tantrum toddler, he kicked angrily at the mess, sending paper and broken pottery flying in all directions without much regret for his actions. 
In fact, this was cathartic for him. Because the very thing he wanted was to make his cousin's world wretched, just like how the latter had done to him. 
“I'm going to find Y/N and bring her back to me, but if either of you…” the blonde warned several moments later, regarding the therapist and the woman with a deathly fire burning in his auburn eyes, “if either of you do more shit to ruin my life in the meantime, I...I will make you regret.”
With that, Naoya stormed off in a huff, releasing all the profanities that have manifested his anger throughout his life. Mari followed soon after, chasing after him in sobs.
Finally, as for Toji, well, he...was stunned.
He blinked thrice in the same second, processing what he had just seen.
He drew in a deep breath...
...and he chuckled.
He knew he looked crazy, laughing to himself in an empty and currently deranged parlor. However, Toji had not felt this triumphant and optimistic in years. He saw a hopeful gleam for himself, for his family, for his colleagues, and for you.
He picked up his phone with a languid grin, scrolling through his contacts and sending over a quick text when he found your name: Guess what?
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last chapter || next chapter
end notes: Throughout this fic, Toji and Naoya obviously have a very complicated and terse cousin-ship. For weeks and months, I have been thinking about how to orchestrate this scene, where we see them together for the first time...and with Mari too. Likes and reblogs are appreciated, and let me know in the comments how you all are doing!
taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network
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honeybeefae · 9 months
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Eris Week 2023 Official Masterlist
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Hey everyone! I am SO excited to participate in Eris Week and to get ahead of the game, I will post the names and summaries of the fics I'll be writing so that everyone can find them easily! (All things labeled with a * are smut!)
The things that are bolded and underlined in the picture above are the prompts I will be using that day and yes, some days there will be two fics because I couldn't just pick one! I hope you guys are as excited about this as I am <3
As always, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, talking, and just anything that you all do to support my fics. This community is amazing and I love all of you.
(Also tagging @erisweek2023! I encourage all of you to participate in it!)
Sunday | Family
As you go into labor Eris is taken back to when his mother went into labor with Lucien, especially as the same problem seems to arise. When you reach out your hand for him to stay, will he take it or will he be just like his father?
(Eris x Reader fic) (POSTED)
Monday | High Lord
The day of Eris's coronation is finally here and as you go to position, you realize he is missing. After calming everyone's panic you go off in search of him and realize just how nervous your soon-to-be High Lord truly is.
(Eris x Reader fic) (POSTED)
Monday (pt. 2) | Heir*
A recent concoction has hit the fae market that is said to bring about your primal instincts in order to help fertility. When Eris first suggests it you laugh, thinking it is just another herb or supplement, until you both drink it and realize just how primal it reverts you to.
(Smut, Aphrodisiac, Knot, Primal Play, Alpha/Omega vibes)
(Eris x Reader fic) (POSTED)
Tuesday | Secrets*
Eris is visiting the Court of Nightmares to keep in touch with things now that he is officially High Lord of Autumn. As he mingles he is introduced to a lovely vixen who, despite Eris's resistance, takes no hints to his distaste. While Eris tries to search for a way out he catches the eye of a Shadowsinger who is none too pleased about the wandering hands touching what is his, even if in secret.
(Smut, Secret Relationship, Dom/Sub dynamic)
(Eris x Azriel) (POSTED)
Wednesday | Autumn Equinox
On the dawn of your mating ceremony to Eris, the same day as the Autumn Equinox, you are in a daze as you remember everything that has led you to this moment. And when you see Eris waiting for you at the end of the aisle, crown of leaves and thorns atop his head, you realize there is no one else for you.
(Eris x Reader fic)
Thursday | Dancing
It is the day you are meant to be introduced to court, to show yourself off to the countless suitors of the Autumn Court, but there is one problem. You cannot dance. Lucky for you, however, that a certain red-headed heir is willing to teach you despite his disdain for you. Or is it something else?
(Eris x Reader fic)
Friday | Arranged Marriage*
Against all odds of this arranged marriage between you and the future High Lord of Autumn, you had hoped that something could blossom between the two of you. You wanted that fairytale you had been sold on so when he refuses to meet your gaze, talk with you, and even go as far as flirting with other women in court, you are left with no other option but to engage your attention to other men. As it turns out, your husband can dish it but cannot take it when you enjoy the company of three mortal men.
(Smut, Arranged Marriage, Outdoor Sex, Jealousy)
(Eris x Reader Fic)
Friday (pt. 2) | Modern AU*
Despite being at the top of your class, popular, and having everything you ever wanted, there was a thorn in your side that you just couldn't get rid of named Eris Vanserra. You were academic rivals and although he seemed like a golden boy with his perfect hair and pressed clothes, you were about to see a whole different side as the two of you are paired up for a project that required meeting outside of school hours.
(Smut, Academic Rivals, Dom/Sub, College!AU, Spitting, Spanking, Daddy Kink)
(Eris x Reader fic)
Saturday | Free Day*
Eris had been uptight since you were children and finally, as you were now both adults, you decided to put your foot down and have him relax. And although your methods are unconventional, the two of you soon find yourselves basking in a room of hazy smoke and unspoken feelings that are about to come to light.
(Smut, Stoned Sex, Drugs, Intense, High Sex)
(Eris x Reader fic)
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nintendont2502 · 5 months
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cant find the original post but a while ago i impulsively decided to add all 32 sburb players (betas, alphas, alternians *and* beforans) to a random name generator and then randomly mix them up - characters kept their original first name and class, and took on the last name and aspect of whatever character they took the role of. this was just meant to be a funny 1am experiment so i could laugh at the cursed results
...yeah it has lore now. i cant stop thinking about it. help.
Beta Kids:
Gamz Egbert (Gamzee) - Bard of Breath. One of the most chill guys ever. Constantly zoned the hell out. Loves clowns :0) him and his dad bond over it. Hangs out with Kari a lot over vc, where it's basically just Kari talking at him uninterrupted (the kid needs it sometimes)
Kari Strider (Kankri) - Seer of Time. Gifted kid and he won't let you forget it. Permanently lives in a sweater vest even though he literally lives in Texas. Constantly annoyed by how childish and immature his older brother is. Lectures him a lot. Lectures his friends a lot. Has 'visions of his past lives' (aka occasional memories from his post-scratch/alternate timeline counterparts). Lectures his friends about how theyre real and valid whenever they make give him shit for it (which happens a lot). Dedicated pacifist - for now, anyway.
John Lalonde - Heir of Light. Golden child. Has an over-bearing mother that constantly pushes him into learning instruments/lanugages/skills, participating in competitions and events, winning award after award. Sure, he's... kinda sick of doing things all day every day, and he doesn't really want to do any of this, but... shouldn't he do it anyway? Even if just for his Mom? Hell, he can't really complain about it, right? He has such a good life! He goes horseback riding every sunday! Sure, it sucks that he doesn't have any free time that isn't controlled by his mother, but he can deal with it. It's fine.
(Things get even worse during the three year trip when Wuh Oh! Gender crisis time! Except he can’t be a girl because he was always meant to be his mom’s perfect son, and he’s already let her down once by letting her die, right? He can just… live with this. Its fine. It's not that bad. It's for her, after all.)
Roxy Harley - Rogue of Space. Grew up living on a small island somewhere in the Pacific that her grandfather 'won in a poker game' (aka probably scammed someone out of, knowing him) - or so he says, anyway. He also used to say he got Roxy the same way every time she asked where she came from! Haha very funny Roxy definitely loved hearing that and not a real response every time she asked where she came from and why she didn’t have any parents. That was great. Her grandfather died when she was fairly young, leaving her alone on the island with nothing left of him but the small inventions he left around the place to make life easier for her. She grows up learning how to maintain them, and although she tries becoming a great inventor like her grandfather, she just... doesn't have the skill. Hacking, on the other hand - shes great at that shit! She finally cracks her final goal - cracking into her grandfathers servers - just before her friend Gamz's 13th birthday, finding mostly boring shit - expenses, customer complaints, legal threats, budgets, etc. What's mildly more interesting to her, however, is the insane amount of money (if they lived on the mainland, they'd be fucking LOADED), and a .exe file for a really cool looking game, with a note from her grandfather congratulating her on finally getting in. And hey, would you look at that? Its multiplayer! And all her friends are free - even John, who through sheer coincidence found himself with a free weekend after his tutors came down with various mysterious illnesses and injuries. It's like the universe wants them to play the game or some shit! Haha wild
Alpha Kids:
Raph Crocker (Rufioh) - Rogue of Life. The living embodiment of all those business major memes. Dude is *dedicated* to the Crockercorp brand - he's determined that one day, he'll climb the ranks and become head of the company, and hopefully lead it just as well as his great-grandfather did. He unironically wears a suit everywhere, and seems committed to sounding like a 50 year old boardroom exec trapped in the body of a 16 year old - although it isn't hard to get him to crack. As much as he pretends he has no patience for his online friends and their constant stories of 'living on a remote island' or 'living in the post-apocalyptic future' (seriously guys, he isn't that gullible), he does genuinely care about them. Besides, when you're stuck in the house all day, there isn't much else to do.
Tuna Strider (Mituna) - Heir of Heart. Trans king. Exudes pure 'disney channel older brother' energy. Shithead (affectionate). Looks up to his Bro, a famous pacifist who resisted the Batterwitch's rule with a global peaceful protest... only to be killed the moment he became too much of a threat. Yyeah. Tuna has... some thoughts about how that should have gone down - most of them involving swords. Or guns. Or both. Maybe if his Bro had a sweet katana, the world wouldn't have been flooded! Although it's too late for his Bro, Tuna has decided to take up the fight in his stead by creating his own 'sick as fuck gun-sword' with whatever scrap metal he can find in the apartment (his Bro, for some reason, didn't think to leave him any useable weapons. cringe). He's got the sword part down great, but the gun... not so much.
Vris Lalonde (Vriska) - Thief of Void. The second half of the 't4t post apocalypse chaos squad', as Tuna calls them. Girl doxxes people for fun - what are they gonna do? Doxx her back? lmao good luck with that losers - closest youre gonna get is still 400 years off. Constantly daring her friends to do stupid shit and quote, 'stop being so fucking boringggg'. it usually works on tuna. sometimes on dave. she still hasnt gotten raph yet, but *one day*...
Dave English - Knight of Hope. smooth talking mile a minute inventor who *loves* trying to 'pitch' his latest invention to his friends. its become almost a game to them, where theyll take turns bidding increasingly ridiculous amounts for an umbrella that shoots seeds ('for easy planting in the rain yknow') or a beat-boxing robot ('i dont even need to explain this one just look at it man. cool as shit'). hell, even raph gets involved sometimes, usually turning it into a shark tank style negotiation. dave swears hes keeping a tally of how much everyone 'owes' him, and claims that one day hes settling that bill. his inventions are genuinely pretty impressive, especially considering his limited resources - being stuck alone on a remote island makes sourcing parts pretty hard. he probably wouldnt even need to jokingly scam his friends in order to jokingly sell his inventions - they jokingly sell themselves. he just thinks scamming people is fun.
Alternia Rapid Fire Round lets goo
Cronus Megido - Bard of Time. relentlessly flirts with anyone of a higher caste than him in the hopes that, if he can get into a quadrant with them, he'll have more protection than he would as just a solo rustblood. this strategy ultimately fails when he flirts with a particular Serket one too many times and gets killed for it. damn. oh well.
Sollux Nitram - so so tired of everyones shit. the only person that actually vaguely got along with Cronus (because he was the only person that Cronus didn't flirt with). just wants to play his pokemon in peace man stop dragging him into drama
Damara Captor - Witch of Doom. 'curses' people. seems weirdly unsurprised when those curses actually work. after cronus' death, a rumour went around that she was the one who caused it, and she absolutely wasnt denying that shit - now no one wants to fuck with her, and those that do? well, she still has her psiionics.
Meulin Vantas - Mage of Blood. Basically the only fucking thing holding this friendship group together. Despite all the complicated as shit relationships - the friendships, the exes, the mortal enemies, the attempted (and successful) murders - Meulin somehow manages to navigate the web of relationships and keep everyone relatively stable
Jaydee Leijon (Jade) - Witch of Heart. catgirl :33. Wishes she lived closer to everyone so she could see them 33: especially her moirail!! at least she still has her lusus to playfight with
Karkat Maryam - Knight of Space. basically a tboy vampire. Used to live in the caverns, but after he realised he was a dude, he began to feel uncomfortable with how oppressive and 'feminine' the caverns were. ran away. struggles with his identity - the contrast between the typical female jadeblood standards of being caring and nurturing, and the typical alternian female standards of being violent and aggressive, leave him stuck in the middle, unsure of what to do or who hes 'allowed' to be. swings wildly between being aggressive and letting himself care about his friends. he eventually figures out that gender stereotypes are bullshit and he can care abt his friends and still be a dude. hes still an asshole though <3
Eridan Pyrope - Prince of Mind. Incredibly committed to a strict moral code - which... no one can figure out. it seems to vary wildly depending on what suits him best at the specific moment. Used to roam Alternia looking for 'criminals' to 'improve' or, if that failed, 'bring to justice' with one Serket, but after an incident involving the loss of three eyes and one arm... they arent exactly on speaking terms.
Dyrrhk Serket (Dirk) - Prince of Light. i dont know how else to say it this mfer makes saw traps. he claims its to 'improve' people - by putting them through some specific trap, it... fixes a percieved issue? even if its an issue only he can see. and if they die in the trap? well, they should have just tried harder right. they probably deserved it. he isnt even doing this out of a desire to hurt people hes *genuinely* convinced that what hes doing is helping, and thinks that this is the best way to go about it. puts eridan through one one day, resulting in the loss of his vision, and after he (finally) figured out that 'huh maybe that wasnt a good idea', he... apologises. lmao just kidding that would be too reasonable - instead he mind controls one of his friends into putting *dyrrhk* into a trap of his own design, resulting in the loss of an eye and an arm. he seems genuinely convinced that this should make them even. everythings fine now, right? he scares me just on a conceptual level
Tavros Zahhak - Page of Void. hes basically a himbo im ngl. hes tall hes ripped hes clumsy and he cant help but draw attention to himself wherever he goes - attention he *hates*. moirails with jaydee. theyre cute <>
Latula Makara - Knight of Rage. clown... despite the usual purpleblood stereotypes, she doesnt really get angry all that often - most of the time, shes just vibing. but when she *does* get angry? its always for a reason. theres always a specific goal shes fulfilling through that anger (even if its just intimidating someone into doing something). i have the least thoughts about her but shes interesting
Jaiikk Ampora (Jake) - Page of Hope. Just a funny lil guy that likes playing pirates :) all the lowbloods he roleplays with definitely want to be there and don't feel coerced by being 'asked' by a literal violetblood :)) if people die during his 'games' well that sucks but he cant exacly stop playing because of a few small accidents right? ..yyeah. hes incredibly ignorant of his position in society and how that effects other people, even if (especially if) those consequences are deadly for others. after a certain point its just easier to not know whats going on than to face all the damage youve caused right. claims he loves the ocean and dreams of living in the depths. never goes into the ocean. hes a weird guy
Equius Peixes - Heir of Life. Future heir to the Alternian throne. Determined to lead Alternia into a new era of strength, no matter the methods to get there. moirails with Jaiikk (which absolutely doesnt help the whole 'Jaiikk accidentally pressuring lowbloods into doing things for him' thing. bro has scary dog privileges with the future emperor looming behind him at all times)
Even faster Beforus speed round because you cant legally make me think about them for more than five seconds
Porrim Megido - Maid of Time
Feferi Nitram - Witch of Breath
Rose Captor - Seer of Doom
Nepeta Vantas - Rogue of Blood
Kurloz Leijon - Prince of Heart
Aradia Maryam - Mage of Space
Aranea Pyrope - Sylph of Mind
Kanaya Serket - Sylph of Light
Jane Zahhak - Maid of Void
Meenah Makara - Thief of Rage
Terezi Ampora - Seer of Hope
Horuss Peixes - Page of Life
105 notes · View notes
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𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟎'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤
⤷ 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 ⚓
Oscar is our first heir for this legacy and since he's still just a tot, many of his outfit choices are still chosen by his parents and guardians. However, he seems to have picked up on his parents preferred color palette of black and grey, with some added blues, greens and browns. All of his clothing is made of sturdy fabric and ready for rough housing and playing tough.
In appearance, we can already see that his nose is quite prominent and his eyes a beautiful grey-blue hue, taking after his mother, Winifred, while his hair a striking black to contrast. Still quite young, he hasn't quite lost his chubbiness from being a baby or grown in all his teeth, but you best believe he is ready to take on whatever adventures await him each and every day.
Also, I wanted to mention that I've actually messed up Ozzy's aging for how I intend to progress my Sims ages going forward. So it will probably seem like Ozzy is stuck in toddler-hell for a lot longer than he should be but we're just going to go with it at this point because I had already styled his looks!
Please see my resource page for details on his skin details, nose mask, etc! All other CC links are located beneath the cut 🖤
everyday: hair, hat, outfit, socks, shoes
everyday ii: hair, hat (tzr warning), outfit, socks, shoes
work / chores: hair, hat (tzr warning), outfit, socks, boots
evening wear: hair, hat, outfit, socks, shoes
sunday best: hair, hat, outfit, socks, shoes
sleepwear: hair, nightcap, onsie, socks
play: hair, hat, outfit, socks, shoes
swimwear: hair, hat, swimsuit
autumn: hair, bonnet, outfit, socks, boots
winter: hair, bonnet, outfit, mittens, socks, boots
spring: hair, hat, outfit, socks, shoes*
summer: hair, hat, outfit, socks, shoes*
* cannot find anymore, but if you message me and ask for my discord, i can send it to you as a package file over discord!
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bri-sonat · 1 year
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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.
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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
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3rdsleeper · 3 months
Text
r/s fics rec list!
(simplified by highly specific tropes)
remus does not want sirius paying his rent and sirius is having a normal one
inflations, invitations and flirtations by mblematic
summary: The Li-Lo at Lupin's. In which plenty of people crash on Remus' air mattress after Hogwarts, and Sirius isn't jealous at all. complete - 9k
practical oddities by lurikko
summary: Regulus needs a place to stay, Remus needs to get over Sirius. It’s August 1979 and things are getting out of hands. complete - 47k (ok this one technically they do live together, but its not necessarily remus' first choice iykyk please read it)
how remus got his groove back by RealityShowJunkie
summary: Remus Lupin becomes king of the cockroaches, Fabian Prewett writes a book, Gilderoy Lockhart is a catfish, and Sirius Black realizes he's a fucking idiot. complete - 42k
the son and heir of nothing in particular by aeridionis
summary: Remus is nineteen and tired, now. And he knows that if he and Sirius were ever going to become anything—if Sirius loved Remus the way Remus loves, and will probably always love, him—it already would’ve happened. complete - 23k
frog and toad aren't friends anymore by swordfishtrombones
summary: “Some people just aren’t good flatmates. I wasn’t trying to say I liked Adrian and Mary better than you, or whatever you’re thinking.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair and squints at the streetlight, twisting his mouth like Remus is truly hopeless. “It hurt,” says Sirius, “my feelings.” complete - 10k
an episode of skam (in the sense that remus is avoidant dismissive /j /j)
the lord of desperate longing by reyghost
summary: Sirius has a lot of feelings, Remus has his own issues too, and James is a very good best friend complete - 13k
and only felt good while moving by aeridionis
summary: The summer before university, Sirius falls in love and throws a punch and then he makes a friend. complete - 17k
SHAME by wiltedtddaisy (taotu)
summary: Sirius has some figuring-things-out to do. He’s not sure if Remus helps or makes things worse. complete - 82k
angle of doubt by mblematic
summary: The Map had been going missing. Or—not missing, exactly. Sirius always knew where it was; Remus had been spiriting it away. Which, it should be said, was fine. Really. complete - 9k
a bird at your door by moongnome
summary: Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out. complete - 31k
if you're the bassist, and i'm the lead singer, then who’s flying this plane?
the cadence of part-time poets by motswolo
summary: After losing his mother at age eleven, Remus has spent the better part of the last four years bouncing from school to school or else running around London and pretending as though he wasn't the kind of well-bred boy his father brought him up to be. Now, with his chances all run out, Remus is sent to Hawkings Independent School as a last-ditch effort to clean up his act. There he meets the very people who will set up the rest of his life, and is forced to confront the pieces of himself he'd long thought had been lost. complete - 979k
dress up in you by MsKingBean89
summary: Sirius attends a charity rock gig organised by his best friend's girlfriend, and the tall, quiet bassist catches his eye... complete - 88k (ok sirius is not in a band in this one but please just go with it)
sirius black & the six by BellaBabe
summary: Remus shrugged. “Not much for the spotlight.” “Right,” Sirius drawled. “I bet you’re also not much for the rock ‘n roll perks.” Remus tensed, sparing Sirius a scathing glance. “I’m sober now.” Sirius quirked a brow in disbelief. complete - 79k
saturday nights and sunday mornings by SoupyGeorge
summary: A story about music and family, the price of fame and finding love somewhere completely unexpected. (its an arctic monkeys au) complete - 121k
sirius black learns the meaning of true love. remus lupin does too but in a much more put together and chill way
a series of sketches done in black ink by musntgetmy
summary: Sirius had always imagined the aftermath of falling in love would mean lightness, and an escape from all the horrors of his childhood. But the past never leaves, and even love can't stop bad memories from resurfacing. complete - 57k
dissonance by renaissance
summary: Remus searches for solace in all the likely places, but somehow he keeps coming back to Sirius Black. Featuring sad acoustic indie, spearmint gum, and irresponsible usage of social media. complete - 4k
the time when you were mine by renaissance
summary: the walk from Grimmauld Place to Parliament Hill is just under an hour, but it's easier going at four in the morning complete - 9k
as red as hearts and autumn by Rosie_Rues
summary: it's the autumn of sixth year, theres a flu epidemic at Hogwarts, and the Blacks want their heir back. complete - 43k
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asphalt-cocktail · 3 months
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Lead us to Temptation- Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Precious Lord Take my Hand
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Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.
A/N: As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are immensely appreciated. There will be no tag list because I am far too lazy to do that, but feel free to turn on notifications for me or bookmark it on AO3 where it will also be posted per usual.
Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Nicknames, religious themes, suggestive language, profanity, pining, mentions of criminal activity, period typical misogyny, physical fighting, mentions of alcohol and gambling
Word Count: 3.3k
Masterlist
Read me on AO3
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There were a handful of things you could always count on happening in Eden Ridge: the saloon having a free lunch every Thursday with the purchase of a drink, church every Sunday, the coal miners leaving the mines at 7PM sharp, and that springtime would bring a sloppy muddy mess. When your family set out westward you stopped about halfway to Oregon and found your home in the town of Eden Ridge, named after the Eden Ridge Mountains which served as the beating heart for the small but quickly growing town.
The hills were full of coal and iron which your father proudly exploited along with the good hard working people of Eden. He controlled the mineral exports and the main work force in town. The hills acted as a hungry maw, devouring the hopes, dreams, and even bodies of the coal miners that dug down to the depths of hell just to keep your father’s pockets fat. It was the only town where the sunset was painted with a harrowing combination of orange and gray and where the air was so heavy with coal dust you could taste it.
Once your older brother was of age he quickly found a wife and married off, having two kids in the blink of an eye. It was common knowledge that your brother was the heir to the Eden Coal & Iron company, but only after he did his time laboring in the bowels of the Earth
The coal mines weren’t the place for a lady, so you didn't know much beyond the fact that your father was the owner and employed 90% of the town. You liked it that way, it kept you cleaner than your brother. You saw how filthy he was when he came back from a long day under the mountain, skin so blackened by coal and filth his eyes and teeth seemed to glow even though the hills stole the light away from them. But your father wasn't going to let your brother become some pencil pushing fancy boy if he could help it. If your daddy had to do his time in the mines, so did anyone who wanted to take over his business. It garnered respect from the laborers and it helped your brother get a glimpse of the bigger picture when it came to a business like this.
Your brother’s future was clear as crystal, but yours was always a frequent topic of discussion. Who were you going to marry being the number one. Since you were the ripe age of 25 your mother spent most of her time about town talking with the other wives and figuring out who the most eligible bachelor was. She told you not to worry, because she had a list made that you could take your pick from. You’d long since thrown away your dreams of traveling and leaving Eden Ridge, those were the dreams of a little girl, and mama always said dreaming was unholy. God gave you what you needed, nothing more, nothing less. So, you best be grateful for it. The older you grew, the more you questioned that statement. There was no way that your father needed to control the coal and iron exports in town. 
Your boots slapped against the wet, gray, mud as you walked through the town. You were grateful that your mother hemmed your skirt a couple of inches shorter than normal to try and help keep your dress clean and prevent it from dragging in the wet earth. 
Outside of the saloon a large group of people gathered right where you needed to walk through. You frowned, the closer you got the more you could tell how rowdy the crowd was and the closer you got the easier it became to see the two men fighting in the street. 
“You lying little snake.” One said swinging and punching the dark haired man in the jaw. 
James Buchanan Barnes. 
Of course he was the one getting his face rocked in the middle of the muddy street. You often wondered if he was the devil incarnate, a handsome sweet talking man brought up from the depths of hell to tempt you into sinning. It took all your strength not to give in and see what else his mouth could do if you just simply let him. For the last two months he’d taken every approach in the book to get you to go out to dinner with him and each time you shut him down. 
Hard.
He was relentless though, stubborn, insisted that he’d treat you good if you just let him and by God you knew he would. He’d been in town for a short but annoying two months and seemed to have quite the reputation with the ladies. If you had to hear one more woman giggle and go “Hi Bucky.” while wiggling her fingers you were going to be the next one kicking Bucky’s ass in the street God help you.
Bucky staggered, shaking his head, trying to unscramble his brains, his cheek was red and already beginning to swell from the blow “I’m a lot of things but I ain’t no damn snake.” He hissed back at the bald man, Tomas. 
“One of your little buddies was telling you what my cards were, I just know it.” Tomas yelled, tackling Bucky to the ground. The worst part was that one of them probably was helping Bucky cheat at cards. Anyone with a pair of brain cells knew he famously cheated at all card games, but Tomas famously lacked brain cells.
They struggled for a moment on the ground before Bucky got leverage, flipping the two over and sitting on top of the other man’s chest, “I told you I’m not a cheat.” He said, punching Tomas in the face, emphasizing each of his words as he spoke. 
Someone pushed through the crowd, Steve, one of his buddies, and grabbed him, “That’s enough Buck.” He spoke harshly, pulling his muddy friend off the unconscious Tomas, “Can we please go into town and not get arrested for once?” The blond grabbed Bucky by the back of his soiled light red button down similar to how a mother cat would carry a kitten by its scruff and shoved him down to walk towards their horses. 
You looked in the muck and saw a worn out, sun beaten hat discarded. You picked it up and looked over at the roughneck then back to the hat
“Excuse me!” You call after the pair, “Mr. Barnes!” 
Bucky turned, immediately recognizing your voice and grinned. It was truly blasphemous how handsome he looked despite the bruised cheek, cuts and dried blood, and black eye starting to form. The beat up look seemed to suit someone like him. “You know, we have got to stop meeting like this sugar.”
“I think you need to stop fist fighting before the sun has barely set.” You couldn't help but return the smile, it was contagious like the plague.
Gingerly, he took the hat from you and brushed some of the mud from his hat before putting it on and wiping his hands clean on his soiled jeans, “I was fighting for my honor!” He completely ignored Steve, following you instead as you began to walk off.
You scoffed, “Honor, sure…” you mumbled, “was someone telling you what the cards were?” 
Bucky grinned proudly, “Of course, Sam always helps me when we play cards.” 
“There is a special circle in hell for liars and cheaters, Mr. Barnes.” 
“Sweetheart I’ve done much worse than lie and cheat, I think I’ll be forgiven for this one.” He statement sounded dismissive and you didn't doubt that wasn't true for a second. There was something mysterious about Bucky Barnes and the crew he ran with. You never could quite figure out what he did for work or what his source of income was, but you figured it was A: impolite to ask and B: not something you wanted to have any part of. “When are you going to let me take you to dinner?” Bucky almost whined, grabbing your hand and stopping you. 
You turned, yanking your hand out of his grasp “When I’m dead.” 
Bucky groaned in annoyance, “I’d treat you so good sweetheart, better than any of these other guys around town.” He reached out for your hand again. This was a talk the two of you had at least twice a week for the last two months, three times if you were extra unlucky.
“I can’t.” Bucky Barnes was the type of man fathers warned their daughters about, and boy did your father have a rather strong warning when it came to Mr. Barnes. “My Daddy warned me to stay away from men like you. A roughneck like you brings nothing but trouble to a good girl’s life.”
“Sweetheart, your daddy has no idea the type of man I am, trust me.” He stepped in front of you, stopping you from walking, “Just humor me and let me take you to dinner, no funny business, promise.” He put his hands on your hips, “How’s about tomorrow, I take you to dinner in the next town over. That way you don’t need to worry about any prying eyes from these nosey folks.” 
Bucky was serving your words to you on a supper plate and gave you a fork to eat them. You told yourself, just this once, and maybe that would get him off your back. Maybe he would go bother some other poor girl. But the thought of that kind of pissed you off, you didn't need to look deep down to know that you enjoyed the little game the two of you played. “No funny business?” All you needed was one little taste, nothing more.
“No funny business.” Bucky echoed you, nodding his head.
It didn't sound so bad going and grabbing dinner in the next town over. Thunder Creek was a lovely area, great food, great music, no one from Eden Ridge to run and tell your family you were out with the local drifter, “How about you ask me once your face doesn’t look such a mess.”
Bucky beamed at you, “Deal.” 
The next time you saw Bucky, almost a full week had passed. His face had healed nicely; the big purple bruise under his eye was now a yellowish color, and the cut along his nose and cheek had scabbed over and shrank. “Have you thought about my offer, dear?” He asked, leaning on the hitching post as you readied your horse. He looked like a stray dog seated in front of a plate of steak, hungry and ready to devour like Saturn himself.
It distracted you, caught you off guard even, “What? About dinner?” You licked your lips nervously and couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze again “Yes, I’m free tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you at the train station at 3 and we can ride over” 
He looked victorious, like he’d won a marathon, like he’d just been told God had saved him a spot in heaven, “3 o’clock at the train station.” He repeated back to let you know he heard and he would be there.
You weren’t shocked to see Bucky already waiting on a bench at the train depot at 3pm sharp just like you’d asked. What shocked you was the fact that you’d managed to travel the two hours to the next town over and have a nice sit down meal with him, all without him making a single pass at you. He made small talk, asking you about your horse and how long you had him for, asking you your favorite books, your life before moving out here, your fathers mining company. He picked your brain and devoured every piece of information you gave him, listening actively and intently.
You learned a lot about him as well. Bucky was 10 years older than you and hailed from New York, which explained his odd hybrid accent. He fought in the civil war as a boy some 20 years ago for the union which was where he met Steve, John, and Sam then they managed to pick up Peter along the way. He called him and his troupe ‘traveling workers’, they went from town to town doing odd jobs and when those ran out or they overstayed their welcome they left, moving on to the next town. 
What he didn’t tell you was that he was a wanted man in 3 states, his traveling work consisted of robbing banks and trains, rustling cattle, and stealing horses, with a small dash of bounty hunting, and a big dash of murder. Sure there was some good honest work sprinkled in there to help keep his conscience clean but it was mostly crime. 
He’d originally come to town to rob the local bank, since Eden Ridge was on the up and up, which meant lots of people came here with lots of money to start a new life and those rich assholes needed somewhere to store it all. His plan was to steal most of the money and use it to finance his next run to the next town and help pay off some of the minor bounties tied to his boys’ heads, but you were a bit of a distraction from his original plan 
It almost made him not want to go through with it.  
Almost. 
Bucky liked you, he liked your soft curves, how you somehow managed to never have a speck of mud on your dress, he liked how sassy you got with him, like when you told him you hoped his horse would drop dead after he flicked mud in your face, and he liked the pretty white lace prayer veil you wore to church every Sunday. He wanted to marry you, come home to you wearing a little apron cooking dinner with a child on your hip. With HIS child on your hip. God the thought of making you his wife drove him near feral. 
There was an added bonus to how pissed off it would make your no good crook of a father that made Bucky want to do it even more. 
But, since a man was only as good as his word, he stayed true to his no funny business promise and only took you to dinner. You hated that he was a perfect gentleman and actually made you feel nice and cared for. You had no doubt that this was how he was able to get the other girls in town wrapped around his finger. 
“You gonna let me walk you to church on Sunday too?” Bucky asked, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. He knew all the right things to say to you much to your chagrin. 
You chewed your lip nervously, your father would not like it if he saw Bucky walking you to church and you knew that to be truer than the word of God itself. But, He had been such a perfect gentleman at your little dinner date, “Fine. But you can’t sit with us for the mass, my parents don’t like you.” You didn’t care if what you said hurt his feelings, it was true and you wanted to be kind enough to spare him the judgemental gaze of your father while Father Liska spoke the word of God, “And you have to sit through the mass and walk me home after.”
“Ok, deal.” Bucky grinned, a win was a win after all.
Bucky was more nervous about stepping foot into a church than he was to walk you there. Women he could handle, religion… well not so much. He half expected to burst into flames the moment he stepped foot into the holy threshold. He swapped out the filth covered denim for his best set of trousers and wore his nicest button up, just for you. 
You didn’t have to worry about the prying eyes of your family when he came to your home to pick you up for your short little walk. Bucky greeted you at the door, you had to admit he cleaned up nicely, “You look nice, sugar.” Bucky reached up and and touched the scalloped edge of your mantilla, rubbing the delicate lace between his rough fingers. 
You swatted his hand away, “Don’t touch that.” You hissed and adjusted the head covering. 
Bucky reached out his hand for you to hold, begrudgingly, you took it, “Are we going to get dinner again sweets?” He tried to act coy by not looking at you, but you knew. He didn’t spend two months practically begging at your feet for dinner only to maybe want a second one. 
You gave him an inch and he was going to take a mile. Maybe even two miles if he was feeling extra bold. 
Bucky held the large wooden doors of the church open for you. He was flooded with the overwhelming scent of frankincense as he entered the church. It has been years since he’d set place in a place of worship. Maybe communing with god would be good for him. You looked uncomfortable under the watchful eyes of people kneeling, your presence disrupting their pre service prayers. 
You dipped your fingers into the holy water and crossed yourself, holding your head high. Oh, they were going to have a lot to talk about at their weekly bible studies. You, showing up with a man to church? Well that was going to be the talk of the congregation, hell, it was going to be the talk of the town! 
Bucky gave your hand a comforting squeeze before he dropped it, suddenly feeling the watchful eye of the Lord upon him. He gave you a polite nod and you almost wished you didn't tell him to sit elsewhere because now you had to walk down the aisle to the front of the room while everyone stared.
Your mother looked at you and you chose to ignore her until she leaned over and tugged at the sleeve of your dress, “What is all that about?” She said and nodded back towards Bucky. 
He looked uncomfortable, like a bull in a china shop, sitting stiffly next to the Barton family. If he managed to sit through Sunday mass it would definitely get him bonus points and another dinner, “Nothing Mother.” You knew you were going to have to answer her poking and prodding after the service. 
Father Liska finished the sermon and it took all your strength to not book it out of the church. You waited, ambushed by your mother who wanted to play twenty questions about Bucky. The number one being: do you think you’ll marry him? She loved to emphasize that you were a bit too bold and men didn’t like it when you told them to drop dead or that you’d rather walk across hot coals than meet with them. She would probably die early of a broken heart if you became a spinster. 
“Please mother, we’ve only gotten dinner once and today I let him walk me to church. It’s nothing serious.” You hissed and hushed her once you saw Bucky walking over.
“Everything is serious when it comes to courting, dear.” Your mother reminded you. Marrying you off was serious business and she in some ways was your manager. “Mr. Barnes.” Your mother greeted him, almost breathlessly and offered her hand to him, “It's such a pleasure to meet you, thank you so much for accompanying our daughter to mass today.” 
Bucky bent, kissing your mothers knuckles, you rolled your eyes at the display of chivalry, “It was truly my pleasure ma’am.” Of course mothers loved Bucky Barnes, why wouldn’t they? He was the type of man mothers loved and the type of man fathers warned their daughters about.
“I can’t believe you made him sit all the way in the back,” your mother chastised you, blushing after Bucky kissed her hand, “ Mr. Barnes dear, near Sunday please sit with us, we’ve got the best spot in the congregation.” 
“Well Daddy doesn’t like him.” You said frowning, “What if Bucky doesn’t want to come to mass next Sunday?”  
“Oh nonsense, he’ll be here next Sunday,” Your mother answered for him, “He loved the sermon today, didn’t you, dear?” 
Bucky flashed another pleasant grin at your mother, “Of course, I loved hearing, uh, Father.... Father...” 
“Liska” You filled in the gap for him knowing he never set foot into the Church of St. Michael the  Archangel for the entirety of his two months here. 
“Right, Father Liska, I thought it was incredibly moving.” You said a silent prayer for God to smite him down.
 “Why don’t you come by the house for lunch.” Your mother urged him.
You shot Bucky a glare, “Oh I don’t think I should.” He said after glancing at you, if looks could kill Bucky would be 6 ft under.
“Bucky can stop by when he picks me up for dinner later in the week. Let’s not bore the poor man any longer.” You hooked your arm in his and pulled him towards the door, “Goodbye mother.” You said sharply. 
Bucky patted your hand with his own, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.” 
You huffed, “I am most certainly not jealous.” You took your arm back and crossed them over your chest. You were jealous. Jealous and annoyed mainly with your mother.
“Don’t worry sugar there’s plenty of me to go around.” He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. 
Chapter 2- Good Old Fashioned Catholic Guilt
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tamlinweek · 7 months
Text
Tamlin Week 2024: Rules, Prompts, and FAQ
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Click here to download Tamlin coloring pages!
Click here for the AO3 Collection link and instructions!
Thank you all for the support and prompt suggestions! The prompts have been chosen for Tamlin Week 2024, which will run Sunday, April 14 - Saturday, April 20. Every day will have two prompts for you to choose from, and the last day will be a free day.
This post is intended to serve as a masterpost for the entire event. It will include dates, prompts, rules, and a FAQ. Make sure to click the read more to get ALL the information!
Prompt List
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Day 1; Sunday, April 14: Heir of Spring/Human Tamlin
Day 2; Monday, April 15: Poet/Warrior
Day 3; Tuesday, April 16: Mates/Flower Language
Day 4; Wednesday, April 17: Calanmai/Happily Ever After
Day 5; Thursday, April 18: Shapeshifter/Masquerade
Day 6; Friday, April 19: Dreams/Fairy Tale AU
Day 7; Saturday, April 20: Free Day
Ideas for interpreting the prompts: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3
Rules
All works must focus on Tamlin! Any and all ships are allowed, as long as the ship with Tamlin is at the forefront. You are also welcome to create general, non-ship content for him.
Any and all gender/sexuality headcanons are allowed! And no ship-bashing, please.
There are 2 prompts for each day. You can choose one or both of them to inspire your work. The last day is a Free Day, so go crazy! If none of the prompts speak to you, feel free to create your own Tamlin content on any day. The prompts are meant to promote creativity, not restrict it. If you have questions about any of the prompts, you can message us.
NSFW/Mature content is allowed, as long as you tag everything appropriately and follow the rules of each platform. So on tumblr, that means following their guidelines for NSFW images. On AO3, that means giving your fic the appropriate rating and tags.
Any kind of creative content is encouraged! Fanfiction, fanart, edits, playlists, headcanons, moodboards, ANYTHING!
That being said, AI art is not permitted, and will not be reblogged.
(click under the readmore for FAQ, more resources, and last year's masterpost)
How do I participate in Tamlin Week?
Create your content and post it on tumblr. If you post on AO3, make sure to share the link on tumblr. Also make sure to add it to the Tamlin Week AO3 collection, which will be posted about later. Tag this blog in the main body of your post (@tamlinweek). In the tags, tag "tamlinweek2024"
If we don’t reblog your post within 24 hours, feel free to send us a message with the link! I’m sure we all know how unreliable the tumblr tagging system is, we would never intentionally not reblog someone’s post.
If I’m not a creator, how can I support Tamlin Week?
The best way to support content creators leading up to and during Tamlin Week is to let them know you support them! Reblog and comment on their work, send Tamlin content into this blog for us to post, etc. We’ll be reblogging Tamlin content from now up until the week itself. Supporting that work now will encourage creators for the event week itself.
Who is in charge of Tamlin Week?
This blog and the event are being run by @goforth-ladymidnight and @praetorqueenreyna.
I have a question that isn’t here!
Feel free to send us asks, we’d love to hear from you all! They can be questions, headcanons, ideas, or anything else! If you have a question you’d like us to answer privately, be sure to let us know in the ask. Otherwise, all other asks will be published on our blog.
Resources for Tamlin Week 2024
The Language of Flowers: ideas for the Flower Language prompt
How to Participate in the Event (including ideas other than art and writing)
Tamlin vs. Tam Lin: A Brief Retelling
Click here for last year's master post, including all the content submitted, the AO3 collection, and the community playlist!
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charlotte-of-wales · 2 months
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The hospital heart-to-hearts that brought Kate and King even closer
by Roya Nikkhah
A source close to Charles said: “The King has always had a close, warm and unique relationship with the princess. She has a great love and respect for him and his position. When they were in hospital together there was a lot of toddling down the corridor to spend time with her. He has been encouraging and supporting her throughout.”
With both families fighting serious illness, some of the oldest tensions have fallen away. William and Camilla, whose relationship was strained for many years, have also become closer. The two have been in regular phone contact in recent weeks.
Not all relationships are as easy to heal, however. The tighter bond between the King’s family and his heir’s only highlights the wide gulf remaining between the Waleses and the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, whose Californian exile seemed further away than ever on Friday.
It is understood that Kate’s cancer diagnosis was not shared in advance with Harry and Meghan, whose short statement soon after the announcement said: “We wish health and healing for Kate and the family, and hope they are able to do so privately and in peace.” A Kensington Palace spokesman would only say: “We do not comment on private conversations.”
However, several sources confirm that there were no such conversations and it is thought Harry found out about Kate’s diagnosis from television, at the same time as the public.
In truth, Kate’s decision to go public in the way that she did flowed from her concerns, not about the royal family but about her relationship with the public.
“It allowed her to speak directly to the public who, overwhelmingly, have always been with her and her family and who don’t buy into the noise and gossip,” said a close friend. “It was all her, she wrote every word of it, it came together very quickly.”
Friends last week told The Sunday Times that William and Kate “planned to be more open and honest” about her condition: “They will want to be clear and more open, but they’ll do it when they feel ready. I would expect that to be her instinct and it will be her call. They’re not going to be rushed.”
But her candour in delivering a video message with so much detail about how she and William have processed the news and handled it with their children, Prince George, ten, Princess Charlotte, eight, and Prince Louis, five, surprised even those closest to her. “I didn’t expect this,” said a close friend who Kate turned to for advice when she had decided to make the statement.
The timing was determined by Kate’s keenness to quell further speculation about her health and her marriage, since her cancer diagnosis meant she would not be returning to royal duties as quickly as expected. “What had shifted in the last few weeks was the sense that she felt: ‘I’m not going to have a normal return to work after Easter that everyone is expecting,’ and everyone was anticipating some kind of update around Easter.”
More profoundly, Kate felt a duty to share her condition with the public to offer hope and solidarity for others experiencing the same challenges and to reassure the world that she is “well and getting stronger every day”.
The friend said: “It wasn’t really about the drama of the last few weeks, though obviously that has been upsetting. She felt she had to do it because of who she is. It was more that she knows she is a public figure and has a wider leadership responsibility. She knew she had to share the news because of how it was going to affect her work and her short-term future role, and [it was about] what was the most compassionate way she could deliver the news, so that it would land with the public in the least shocking way.
“A written statement, she felt, would be too jarring. It was about people seeing her, and her reassuring people that she was positive about it. Knowing it was news that was going to shock people, she wanted to do it as compassionately as possible. When things are really tough, that gratitude to the public for their support is their mantra.”
There were two other motivations. “She also wants to be able to carry on with as active and normal a routine as possible and not have it become a huge issue when she goes to a farm shop near their home in Windsor, with people then suggesting that’s a PR move. Moving forwards, they will be very strict on enforcing their right to privacy.”
But the greatest concern and top priority was Kate and William’s three children: the couple wanted to avoid an announcement while they were still at school. Lambrook School broke up for the Easter holidays on Friday afternoon, at the same time the media were told by Kensington Palace of Kate’s imminent announcement. “George is ten now and can’t be shielded from any of this now,” a palace source said. “Once it’s at the school gate and in the school playground, he won’t be able to avoid it.” The children do not return for the summer term until April 17.
Some friends of Kate are also frustrated that she felt the need to be so frank, in part to quell the (often wildly inaccurate) rumours that have been swirling about her on social media. “Catherine’s message was so honest,” a friend said. “Isn’t it sad that she has to be so honest and share that because of all the nonsense that has been around? I feel like the whole world has been gossiping about her and there is so much bullshit out there about her and her family. It was almost desperate that she had to do it.”
Her announcement also illuminates the dynamic between the Prince and Princess of Wales. While William was closely involved in Kate’s decision, it was one he dearly wished she had not felt compelled to make. “She did it with his full support and advice, he joined all the conversations around it,” a close friend said. “On every level he wishes she didn’t have to do it. But it was her decision, it wasn’t begrudged and he fully supported it.”
Some commentators questioned, on social media, why William wasn’t sitting with Kate when she made her shock announcement. “This was her as a strong woman sharing an innately strong message to the nation. She didn’t need anyone sitting next to her,” said a royal source. “He has been supporting her and the family in the background.”
Those close to William speak protectively of the prince, who lost his mother when he was only 15 and must now confront a situation where he and Kate have three small children of their own and where their mother’s health is part of the public discourse. “Undoubtedly what has happened to him in his life [with his mother] has led him into the protection mode he is in now,” said a friend. An aide said: “All he wants to do is protect his wife and children. The family just want to go away for Easter, spend time together, the five of them, close off from the world and move on.”
Those close to the Windsors are keen to play down any wider constitutional significance. “People need to calm down, take a medium-term view here, batten down the hatches and realise that the princess is positive, the King is positive and they will work together to come through it. In a decade, the younger generation will be out doing their thing. This is still a family fulfilling its duties.”
Insiders are also keen to quash any suggestions that the King’s cancer treatment would see him permanently withdraw from public life. In fact, planning is already under way for Charles to start to “ramp things up” from early summer. The King is “hoping” to attend an Easter Day service at Windsor next Sunday. William and Kate will be absent, but aides say Kate may attend some engagements in the coming weeks if she feels well enough. She will not return to full public duties until cleared to do so by her doctors.
William’s household is equally optimistic about the durability of the monarchy. “From the Prince of Wales’s perspective, he has looked to balance his private life supporting his family and his public life quite successfully for the last couple of months, and he will continue to do so,” said an aide. In that, he has the support of both his father and his wife, bonded tighter than ever by hospital heart-to-hearts and their determination to overcome cancer.
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bejeweledsims · 2 years
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the aesthetics challenge: a ten generations legacy challenge
i've always loved to play challenges in the sims 4, i find that they push to gameplays that i otherwise would probably never try, so i decided to try to create my own challenge.
while creating the requirements for each generation i was looking at the aesthetics wiki, so feel free to check it out if you have any doubt as to what an aesthetic means or what it should look like. also, i'm aware that some of this may not fit what some people think about certain aesthetics, but this was my own interpretation of them with the resources provided by the sims 4 gameplay to the date i'm posting this, so be nice pls <3
while making this i realized that someone else had already made a challenge with the same idea, though there are only two aesthetics that appear in both challenges and the requirements are different.
general rules:
though some generations do require you to live in a specific place, i only added the world part as to give you an idea, but you're welcome to have your sim live wherever you wish if not necessary.
given that it's a challenge based around the idea of aesthetics, you should probably create your sim based around the designated aesthetic
unless stated otherwise, you can marry/get together with any sim with whatever traits
use the #aestheticsims4challenge tag if you decide to play this challenge, i'd love to see what other people do with it :)
generation #1: witchcore
growing up you always loved to read about magical worlds and fantastic realms, so you used to stay away from other people and with the company of your beloved books and a cat. but when visiting a mysterious town you meet an strange man who claims to be a spellcaster, you witness all of your dreams come true and beg him to teach how to become one.
traits: cat lover, loner, bookworm
aspiration: spellcraft & sorcery
job: freelancer, writer branch
world: glimmerbrook
requirements:
start as a regular sim, become a spellcaster
move into glimmerbrook as soon as you become a spellcaster
complete the spellcraft & sorcery aspiration
marry a human
learn all the spells of at least one type of magic
complete at least one of the perk trees
maximize the medium, herbalism and fishing skills
generation #2: plant mom
your parent may have been able to cast actual magic and all that, but ever since you were little you knew that the only magic you could do was with plants, and so you commit your life to learning everything you can about them and how to take care of them, but when you're not doing this, and unlike your parent, you love to hangout with other people and your dogs on the outdoors, though you mostly like to talk about plants.
traits: loves the outdoor, dog lover, outgoing
aspiration: freelance botanist
job: gardener, botanist branch
world: any world
requirements:
this heir must be human
reach the top of the gardening career
always have at least one dog
complete the freelance botanist aspiration
spend at least 2 hours every sunday in a park
have a gardening club and have at least one gathering each week
maximize the gardening, herbalism and logic skill
generation #3: clowncore
while your parent was all about plants, hardwork and research, you're more of a joker and would much rather spend your time with other people making them laugh, so you decide to devote your life to it. you try to always see the bright side of things and will always make a joke even in the saddest of times, but that has caused to lose some loved ones along the way.
traits: goofball, outgoing, cheerful
aspiration: joke star
job: entertainer, comedian branch
world: any world
requirements:
complete the joke star aspiration
reach the top of the entertaniner career on the comedian branch
marry and divorce a proper sim
have a neutral relationship with your parents and child
maximize the comedy, mischief and carisma skills
generation #4: cottagecore
it's not that you didn't like your parent, it's just that they could sometimes be... a little too much when it came to their jokes. you always felt as though you got along better with animals than with other people, so you prefered to spend your time in the outdoors surrounded by them, so when you are old enough you move to the countryside and buy a farm where you take of many animals and attend the farm festival, where you fall in love with a local sim.
traits: loves outdoors, good, animal enthusiast
aspiration: country caretaker
job: no job
world: henford-on-bangley
requirements:
never have a job
complete the country caretaker aspiration
live on henford-on-bangley
be close with your grandparent and garden with them
be closer to your proper parent, but live with your goofball parent
marry a sim from henford-on-bangley
maximize the cross-stitch, herbalism, cooking, baking and gardening skills
generation #5: downtown girl
your parents always loved the countryside and it's animals and plants, but that lifestyle was just never for you, and when on a family trip you visit the big city you make a decision: you'll move there as soon as you become a young adult. once there, and with no more company other than a cat you adopt on your first day on the city, you decide to follow your dream of becoming a musician and start from the bottom.
traits: music lover, cat lover, loner
aspiration: city native
job: entertainer, musician branch
world: san myshuno
requirements:
complete the city native aspiration
have a part-time job as a teenager
reach the top of the entertainer career on the musician branch
adopt a cat on your first day on the city
have no more than 3 friends, excluding family members
maximize the singing, charisma, guitar and piano skills
generation #6: dark/light academia
you’ve always have a passion for knowledge and learning, so much so that you prioritize it above anything else, you dream of becoming the first person in your family to attend university. you are always surrounded by books, and you prefer their company to that of other people, which is why many consider you a snob.
traits: bookworm, loner, snob
aspiration: academic
job: writer, on the autor branch
world: any
requirements:
go to university, it must be britechester
join a secret society
maximize writing, research & debate and logic skill
marry a fellow academic with the snob trait
read at least 3 books to each of your kids
reach the top on the writer career on the author branch
generation #7: old money
"some people are simply better than others" it's a phrase that you wholeheartedly believe and live by. you love art, music, books and everything sofisticated, so you choose a career that will allow to enjoy of such things, but when your parents decide to make a call to boost your admission chances to your dream university due to the being alumnus, it makes you forever question whether you truly deserved it or not, so you work harder than everyone else to prove you're worth it.
traits: snob, proper, over-achiever
aspiration: successful lineage
job: business, management branch/acting
world: san myshuno/del sol valley
requirements:
go to university, and major in either economics or communications
reach the top of the business/acting career
complete the successful lineage aspiration
graduate high school as an b student, graduate university with honors
if you choose the acting career, you must win at least 1 starlight accolade and become a 5 star celebrity
marry a famous and snob sims
maximize the gourmet cooking, charisma, parenting and painting skills
generation #8: that girl
they say like parent like children, and they're right. growing up you always saw just how hard your parents worked and how much they managed to achieve due to that hardwork, so you decide to be just like them, except for one little thing: you want to be an internet personality. so you go to college and at the same time become a simfluencer, at least until you graduate, but you still keep updating your social media everytime possible. you are always concerned with becoming your best self in terms of mind and body.
traits: perfectionist, over-achiever, neat
aspiration: renaissance sim
job: simfluencer part-time job as a teenager, style influencer on the trendsetter branch
world: any
requirements:
complete the self-care self-care specialist aspiration
reach the top of the both of your careers
become at least a 3 star celebrity
go to the gym at least three times each week, go to a spa at least once a week
graduate as a a student and valedictorian, graduate university with honors
maximize logic, fitness, wellness, cooking, parenting and baking skills
be close with each of your children
get at least 6 other skills to level 8
generation #9: coastal grandma
you grew up watching your parents constantly working, and while that never stopped them from being as loving and doting as possible, seeing their frantic lifestyle made you realize that you want nothing to do with that lifestyle, in fact, you want to just relax and enjoy life in a beach while drinking your favorite drink. so you work all of your youth and once you become an adult you move to a beach, quit your job and enjoy the rest of your life with your loved ones.
traits: child of the ocean, foodie, insider
aspiration: beach life
job: culinary, chef brand
world: brindleton bay, tartosa, sulani
requirements:
complete the beach life aspiration
move to a beach once you become an adult
marry a good sim
practice wellness
have a good relationship with your child
maximize the cooking, baking, mixology, parenting and knitting skills
generation #10: cryptidcore
a family rumour claims that one of your ancestors wasn’t… precisely human, but everytime you’ve tried asking anyone they just laugh and deny it, saying that no such things exist. well, you’ve decided to prove them wrong, and you will dedicate your life to prove it
traits: loves the outdoors, socially awkward, genius
aspiration: strangerville mistery
job: scientist
world: strangerville
requirements:
befriend a witch, werewolf, vampire, alien, ghost and a mermaid
marry a sim that is one of the previous life states
reach the top of the scientist career
complete the strangerville mistery aspiration
move to strangerville
maximize the vampire lore, photography and logic skills
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arcielee · 3 months
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Interview With a Writer
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Thank you again @inthedayswhenlandswerefew for continue the Maggie's Suffering Sundays tradition with a behind-the-scenes on her latest story! As always, here is masterlist to my Interview With a Writer series and the other talented individuals who allow me to continue this self-indulgent series! 💜
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Name: inthedayswhenlandswerefew
Story: Napoleonville
Paring: modern Aemond Targaryen x female!reader
Warnings: 18+ mature themes. Be mindful of chapter warnings.
What inspired the plotline for Napoleonville?
I’ve always thought that bayou country (and the Deep South in general) has a fascinating, slightly unnerving, ancient sort of beauty, and I had a vague idea that I’d use it as a setting for a fic one day. I actually wrote a short story in college that took place in rural Louisiana (it involved fraternities and murder, sounds like me, right? 😂) and really loved the experience of mentally living in that setting for a while.
One day I was thinking about this preoccupation I have with Louisiana while listening to You’re Wrong About, a podcast I really love. They have a 5-episode miniseries about Princess Diana that is super informative and also hilarious, and I go back and re-listen to those episodes a few times a year because I enjoy them so much. So the plot of Napoleonville was a marriage (pun intended) of these two seemingly random, disconnected inspirations!
I think I imagined the story as taking place in the 80s primarily because of the Princess Diana connection, but also I’m super obsessed with 80s music and fashion, so I’m sure that was a contributing factor. 😁
My Pinterest board for this series was called "Swamplands" and featured a LOT of retro 80s photos, as well as plenty of alligators and baking recipes, of course!
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I sadly did not yet exist in the 80s, so extensive research was necessary.
Explain your interpretation of Aemond. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in Napoleonville?
To me, Aemond seems a lot like Prince Charles in the 80s. He’s very image-conscious and dutiful, but also deeply insecure and unhappy, and he has a secret scandalous life that serves as his escape from the emotionally devoid reality that has been chosen for him.
Aemond is at peace when he gets to feel like he’s in control, but he’s also just fundamentally starved for genuine affection, and those are things that he needs—even in secret, and even in small doses—in order to survive the stifling, relentless demands of being the heir to the Jade Dragon Energy dynasty.
Did you already have an idea of how you wanted the Targaryen family dynamic to be in Napoleonville?
In most of my fics, Viserys is either dying/dead or super distant, so I liked being able to get a sense of how the family would function if Viserys was alive and well and at least somewhat present.
He’s this dark cloud of a patriarch whenever he jets into town from his latest business trip, reminding every member of the family how they’ve disappointed him: Alicent is an unlovable wife, Aegon an embarrassment of a son, Aemond an overlooked middle child always trying to prove himself (at the risk of both his mental and physical health), and then Helaena and Daeron are barely even on his radar.
When Viserys is away, the family seems a bit happier, lazing around the pool and distracting themselves with a variety of hobbies and substances. I think the fact that Aemond picked up smoking Marlboros from Alicent—and then she shared them with Christabel as well—is very indicative about how a dynamic like this is generational. Parents suffer, and then their children develop maladaptive behaviors to survive in that environment, and then they grow up to recreate it because that’s all they know.
With Viserys still around, Otto became a different character, and this version of Otto Hightower was really fun to write. I imagined him as someone who was once a determined social striver and now—burned-out and somewhat aware that all his ambitions led to nothing but misery—has become a bit of a nihilist and is content to spend what remains of his life on a beach in the South Pacific.
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Can you give us the "dad dynamic" comparison of Aemond and Willis?
Aemond, while emotionally kind of clueless, is definitely aware that he had a bad childhood and doesn't want any other kids to have to feel that way.
Also Aemond, unlike Willis, is socially open-minded. He has this fascination with scrappy underdogs who manage to take bad circumstances and make something meaningful out of them, undoubtedly because that’s deep down how he’s always felt: like someone harmed and overlooked, yet a constant striver.
When Aemond first meets Cupcake, there is a level of chemistry and attraction that he didn’t expect (although he certainly has always hoped for it), and he realizes almost immediately that this will be more than a one-time hookup and treats Cupcake accordingly. Then as he begins to learn more about her, his admiration and affection grows.
Cupcake is unassuming and yet nontraditional and defiant in the face of adversity, exactly the sort of person that Aemond respects most. He feels that—like himself, although in very different ways—Cupcake was also robbed of the agency she deserved and wronged by people who should have had her best interests at heart. Viserys was responsible for Aemond’s lost eye; Willis—in Aemond’s mind—was responsible for Cupcake’s loss of control over her body, and the loss of her educational opportunities as well. Aemond doesn’t hate Willis because he used to be married to Cupcake. He hates Willis because he consigned Cupcake to a life that was less than she deserved.
Aemond gets along so well with Cadi because, simply put, he treats her like a human. He is intrigued by her obstinate personality and pays attention to her interests, even if she’s just a kid; Aemond remembers being chronically ignored as a child, and he sees children as being fully sentient in a way that a lot of 80s parents didn’t. Since he isn’t much of a traditionalist, Aemond doesn’t care if Cadi has short hair or dresses primarily in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirts. Similarly, Aemond is not fazed that Amir is gay, and I’m sure the fact that Aemond is European has a lot to do with that. Aemond is definitely not a rural Louisianan at heart!
Willis, by the standards of the time and place, is actually a relatively decent dad; he cares about spending time with Cadi and has negotiated a schedule where he has custody three days a week, which is (sadly) way more time than a lot of dads spend with their kids! We learn in Chapter 10 that a huge source of anxiety for him has been his fear of Cupcake meeting someone who will take her and Cadi far away from Napoleonville, and thus from Willis. He also invests in certain activities that he and Cadi enjoy doing together, like boating/fishing. Willis may have a very traditional, conservative view of gender roles—and life in general—and he doesn’t always take Cadi’s interests seriously, but he isn’t an awful guy.
Although his mullet is definitely awful.
What was your favorite moment of this series?
The first vivid scene I envisioned for Napoleonville was Aemond asking Cupcake to marry him under a massive southern live oak after abandoning his wedding to Christabel—the Princess Diana of this story—but I’m not sure if I can call that my favorite moment. I was really excited to write Chapter 6 because of Aemond jumping into the alligator-filled water to rescue Cupcake, but as much as I loved it I don’t think that’s my favorite scene either.
My favorite scenes tend to be small, quiet moments, probably things that don’t stand out to anyone else. I think my absolute favorite scene of Napoleonville is in Chapter 7 when Cupcake is in bed with a migraine—sad, stressed, missing Aemond but also furious with him, reflecting on never feeling chosen, fearful of Cadi one day leaving her—and Aemond shows up and is just super gentle and kind and apologetic for the way he was the last time they saw each other.
They’re two people who are both in a lot of pain, both physically and emotionally, and they desperately want to help each other even if they aren’t sure how.
Speaking of Chapter 6, do you have an idea how it went between Aemond, Aegon, and Willis on the boat once they realized Cupcake was overboard?
Oh yeah! It all unfolded within a few seconds, so it was super quick. How I saw it happening is that Cupcake goes overboard, and all three men hear the splash and then turn around to see she’s gone.
Aegon is thinking “RIP cake lady,” because he certainly has no idea what to do about it and would sooner chew off his own arm than jump in that water. Willis scrambles to grab ropes, etc. to at least try to help her back into the boat. And then Willis starts giving Aemond orders and as he’s shouting, Aemond just dives into the bayou and Willis and Aegon are left staring at each other like “???” 😂
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Aegon was so much fun in this story. I loved the relationship between him and Aemond.
I think we all know by now that I'm an Aegon girlie, and so of course Napoleonville Aegon had to have an opportunity to shine!
This is the first series since my HOTD debut (Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep?) that Aegon and the protagonist have no romantic relationship, but they still develop a friendship and fondness for each other that I think is really healing for Aegon. He has resigned himself to being the failure of the family, and is an afterthought in the Targaryen household (and to his wife, Princess Stephanie of Monaco).
Even Aemond, who Aegon loves and admires (even if Aegon is not very good at expressing this), is oftentimes preoccupied and emotionally closed-off. But Cupcake remembers Aegon and tries to make him feel included when she starts showing up at the mansion. She can't resist a sad, maligned outcast!
Were there any other characters in your story that you enjoyed writing?
Of course I loved writing Amir, Willis, and Cadi, but I think the character I grew the most unexpectedly attached to was Christabel.
She's so young and idealistic, and although she is Cupcake's rival of sorts, she is pretty impossible to hate because she never does anything wrong. Christabel is an Aemond fangirl who expresses emotions openly, even when no one around her does. She wants a real relationship with him and does everything in her power to please her fiancé and make him proud of her. And Christabel is aware on some level that things aren't right, but everyone else in her life is trying to gaslight her into thinking that all courtships and marriages are like this.
All these details are true for the real Princess Diana as well. Even years into her marriage when things were clearly dire, Diana would still choose outfits based on what Charles might think she looked good in. She spent so long trying to earn her husband's love, but it was an impossible (and agonizing) mission. Fortunately for Christabel, she didn't have to endure 15 years of torment before breaking free.
Do you feel Reader and Aemond complement one another well?
Absolutely! On a superficial (and kinky) level, Aemond likes being in control and Cupcake likes being able to rely on someone else to make trustworthy decisions, so in that sense they're a perfect match. But they also just genuinely get along well and are able to understand each other.
From the very first meeting, Aemond can tell when Cupcake is nervous, and she can tell that he's wearing his authoritative confidence like armor, and they both adjust to try to make the other feel at ease. Furthermore, Cupcake might be a high school dropout, but she is not dumb. She lacks academic training (and is often self-conscious about not knowing certain words or references), but she's a naturally clever person who can keep up with Aemond intellectually and pick out inconsistencies in his logic (as there are MANY!).
Finally, the life Cupcake has built for herself in Napoleonville is simple but has true warmth and love, something that Aemond needs.
Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?
So I very rarely write a Reader with a specific inspiration in mind, but I do have one for Cupcake. You'll probably think I'm insane at first, but Cupcake is inspired by my grandma.
My grandma was born in rural Western Maryland in 1945, and her family was so poor they didn't even have indoor plumbing. She was considered very beautiful and very clever and she had all these dreams about what she wanted to do with her life. Then when she was sixteen, she got pregnant and had to drop out of high school and marry my grandfather, because that's what people did back then. She wasn't given any other options.
They ended up moving to an urban area and my grandma became a real estate agent, and by any outsider's perspective she had a normal, happy, all-American existence. But my grandma also endured decades of domestic violence, substance abuse, and profound dissatisfaction with her life. This environment was not good for the children, both of whom (my aunt and dad) developed severe mental illnesses that they still struggle with to this day. My grandma was a very tenacious, passionate person and open with me about how she felt she'd never been treated right by a man, and I was a little too young then to fully understand what she meant. She passed away in 2018 after a long battle with cancer, and I think about her a lot, and I wanted Cupcake to be someone who broke free and got the fairytale ending that my grandma (and so many other women) never had.
What is next for Maggie's Suffering Sundays?
I am delighted to say that there is a new series on the way soon!
I'm not sure EXACTLY when it will be ready, because I want the rollout to be a little different this time (you'll see what I mean... 👀), but I've already begun writing. I believe there will be 12 chapters total, and 12 is a significant number! In terms of vibes, I think this new series is most similar to Now I’m Covered In You.
I hope you love it. 🥰
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minyare2906 · 9 months
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[RELEASE] HANAKOI TSURANE CH61
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Title: Hanakoi Tsurane | Dance of Love | 花恋 つらね
Author/Artist: Natsume Isaku Rating: +18
Summary: The self-destructive type, Sougorou is the heir of one of the well-known families in the Kabuki world. He has no interests in other actors his age with the exception of Gensuke who he recognizes as his rival and never wants to lose no matter what. However, fate plays a cruel trick on him and the two of them end up as classmates… How will their relationship develop…?!
Chapter 61 Download/Read online: Here
Note: Hello! We’re back!
I know, I know, it has taken a while, but we needed to delay working on this release, sorry! Plus, I was going to release this Monday (we had some last minute checking to do so I couldn't do it on Sunday) but I was busy and kept forgetting to do it, that's why I release on Sundays, I have more free time. As present, I’ve coloured 2 pages, hope you like them, sensei made them so pretty that I had to see them in colour.
I've also added the Mega links for chapters 59 & 60. I forgot I had to do that!! I uploaded the chapters to Mangadex and forgot to add the links to the reader. Oops, sorry!
I’m feeling conflicted. On one hand, I can sense the end coming and I wanna see it, on the other, I don’t wanna say goodbye to the lovebirds!! Anyway, I’m loving where this chapter is making us go. I really wanna see when the audience see both perform “Kanadehon”, they’re gonna lose it, I’m sure. And I’m dying to see the beautiful images that sensei will draw with them in their costumes.
In the meantime, enjoy the chapter, enjoy Grandpa’s face in the last page, it’s the best! I’ll continue praying for a Tsutamaru x Takeichi spin-off once the curtain closes.
I wanna thank Quietus for letting us use her raws, always so nice! To Adamay for being such an accurate translator and to Toshirodragon for taking time off her tight schedule to proofread it and to both for answering all of my questions. And to our readers. None of this would be possible without you!!
Thanks to all for reading!! Have a nice day!!
@cm-scans - @ikahomine
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