#obligatory english is not my first language
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Shrike
However it happened, he's not sure, but Lan Wangji finds himself laying on the ground and tainting the soil with blood. A certain ghost finds his way to him.
CW: death
The concept of time is a faraway thing when one is close to death. Lan Wangji lays on the ground, cold and damp, and stares at the starry night above him. Ignores the pain coursing through his body. He waits, knowing that death is not going to bring him closer to Wei Ying, but not strong enough to fight it and live.
He can feel the mud beneath his palms, sticky from all the blood; the metallic scent fills his nose until it's all he can smell. He doesn't really remember what happened, he assumes a night hunt gone wrong. It feels unlikely, yet it's true. Even Hanguang-Jun is not immortal, just like Wei Ying wasn't.
It's getting colder now. Either that or he's the one getting colder. He shivers, and tries to listen to the songs of the birds, the owls that croon to each other, but everything sounds muffled. He wonders how long it would take for the soil to become one with his skin, if maybe flowers will grow over this particular patch of dirt, or if it'll be tainted by his decaying skin and bones forever.
His heart is heavy, yet he feels like he's floating, barely even touching the ground. The sounds around him distort, until the bird songs sound like whistles from the wind that struggle to even reach his ears. There are other sounds fighting for his attention, yet he can't concentrate on any of them.
The only clear sound is the beating of his heart, heavy and loud, with the weight of his fleeting life. All other sounds are drowned out by the ringing of his ears, the blood flowing through and out of his body. He thinks he can hear whimpering from far away, but it is unimportant now. He can't move, no matter how much he tries. And he tries, for a-yuan, for his brother, for his uncle. For Wei Ying; for there to be at least one person that thinks of his memory lovingly instead of with disdain. He fails.
So he just looks up at the moon, bright and mighty, the only source of light he has. He's vaguely aware of a figure that approaches, walking through the darkness as though gliding. He doesn't truly realize until the black figure covers the light, and suddenly he can see; dark long hair, carefully wrapped in a bright red ribbon, flowing down until it almost touches his chest. He can't help the gasp that escapes him, or the desperation that grabs hold of him. His ribbon is so close he could touch it with his fingertip, if he were to have enough strength. He tries to do just that, with a shaking hand that wavers before it even reaches it, and ultimately falls back down.
makes him move erratically, struggling against the pain that covers his body. He tries to grab the ribbon, so close to him, but his arm fails him, falling back down to him as it trembles and he shivers from the cold.
He recognizes him, how could he not. He's scared he's hallucinating, but when he's in front of him, how could he bring himself to care. The dreams of Wei Ying are still better than not having him at all. He tries to call out to him, but his voice is ragged and tired, more a wheeze than a word.
All sounds have ceased. Maybe it's his body that's failing him, maybe he's searching for one specific voice, everything else so unimportant to his senses he can't even hear anything.
And he heard him, clear as a songbird.
"Lan Zhan," he says, and it sounds so close he could drown in it. He will, if he doesn't catch his breath soon. He can hear his heartbeat again, louder and louder; a drum that takes him closer to death. He understands, in a far away manner, that he's losing blood faster.
He inhales, urgently. His breath rattles, a painful sound, wet with blood. He coughs, and tries to say his name again. It hurts, but he tries, panicking while knowing it will do no good now.
"Wei Ying-" he manages, voice raspy and guttural, blood flowing down his lips as he coughs, and he's left breathless again. He's shaking, and he sees his chest going up and down, faster and faster. His arm moves almost unconsciously, and so fast, to take hold of that red ribbon. He succeeds this time, and it shakes with the exertion, before falling down; that incredible surge of strength completely gone. He can only hold the ribbon tighter, taking it down with him until it lands on his fluttering chest.
Wei Ying's hair falls down in waves, unraveling fast until it covers them both. There is no light that reaches his eyes, only Wei Ying's face, wide eyes and trembling lips. He wants to kiss him so much. If he could, maybe he would try; just to know what it's like before he never sees him again.
He cries, because he doesn't know what else to do. The tears cloud all his surroundings, until all he knows is that face, staring back at him at last (at last, too late). He's weeping with a voice that barely carries itself, sounds that are painful to the ear. He holds that ribbon close and feels the soft touch of a hand, like a breeze caressing his face. Going from his eyebrows to the tip of his nose, until the pad of his fingers reach his lips, and he opens his mouth to try and kiss them.
He feels him come closer, feels him kiss his forehead, gently. He's so gentle now, now that Lan Wangji's falling apart, trying to dry his tears with his hands, unable to even do that. He wants him now, wants him desperately, and he cries for how far they still are, even while being so close.
Wei Ying is above him, crooning softly. A song he knows so we'll. He wonders if Wei Ying even remembers where he heard it, if it matters at this point. "It's alright Lan Zhan, it's all well," he mutters. Even when his own eyes are wet with tears that refuse to fall, he doesn't falter his comfort.
"I love you," falls out from his lips. A plea, a mercy. It comes out ragged and wrong, but it rings true all the same. He wishes he had been able to say it sooner, before everything has gone wrong, before the chance was taken away. Now he's here, saying it to a ghost, one that has come to comfort him. He doesn't even know if he's real. But he has to say it, before he takes it to his grave.
"Shh, it's ok Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, laying their foreheads together, trying to caress his cheek. It's all in vain; the only thing he can feel is a slight breeze, colder than his own dying skin. It hurts, it hurts that now the only trace of Wei Ying he can feel is a cutting cruel cold. "I know, i know," he keeps saying, crying out to him like that will make him feel him more, keep him tethered. Finally his tears fall, and they still feel so cold.
"Wei Ying," he weeps, like a child calling for his mother, holding the ribbon close with all the strength he has. He wants to close his eyes, but he has to see Wei Ying; he's desperate to keep him close, in the limited time they have.
"Lan Zhan," he pauses, but the tears continue to fall. He's struggling to say it, face twisted in agony, the tears falling near constantly. He manages, with a frail, shaking voice, "I wish I could have been buried with you," and Wei Ying breaks down too, closing his eyes against the onslaught of pain, crying out, choking on the breath he doesn't need. "I'm sorry Lan Zhan, so sorry. I didn't know," Lan Wangji can barely see him, everything's so blurry now; he doesn't truly know from what. He tries to comfort him, but can't move at all. He can only hum back gently the song from before, taking pauses every time his breath hitches, hoping it doesn't sound as painful as it feels.
If they had been buried together, maybe they would see each other again. Lan Wangji thinks, desperately, that maybe he would have liked to die with Wei Ying. That maybe his bones would have been unearthed decades later, holding the person most precious to him. They could have died together, hand in hand. If only he hadn't been a coward.
He sobs at that thought, humming completely forgotten under the pressure of his aching heart. He feels his breath slow, and he looks at Wei Ying's eyes, scared and alone, save for a ghost that has followed him home. Wei Ying understands, and starts a stream of gentle nothings, trying so hard to comfort him. He combs through his hair, as futile as it is; the gentle wind of his hand holds him together.
"It's alright now, Lan Zhan," he whispers, pained and clogged with tears. He touches his cheeks and keeps his hands there, as Lan Wangji slowly feels himself lose his last amounts of strength. He breathes out, trying to call out to him one last time.
He can't, but Wei Ying still understands. He simply says, "You can rest, Lan Zhan," and kisses his forehead. Wei Ying is smiling faintly, eyes glistening. He manages to smile back to him, however small, before death takes hold of him, Wei Ying's face his last memory.
#mdzs#wangxian#lan wangji#wei wuxian#wei ying#death tw#obligatory english is not my first language#appreciate corrections#i don't like this one much anymore#but i want to get it off my chest so i can write other stuff hfjdh#my writing#why am i so emo istg#I'll write cute stuff again#probably#also can you tell I'm bad at titles?
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So to summarize my thoughts on the final episode (two final episodes actually) of mp100, I think it was great. Yet, I would still do some scenes differently, especially "Shigeo" and "Mob" inner dialogue.
I guess my high expectations are at fault. And don't get me wrong, it definitely gets the point across, but personally it just doesn't awake the same feelings as in the manga.
I think it's mostly because in the anime there is no striking difference between "Shigeo" and "Mob" and their characters. Anime!"Shigeo" feels somewhat lukewarm, idk how to explain it. Sure, he mostly says the same lines as in the manga (exluding the ones that were cut), but it feels different. And frankly, it doesn't sound as I imagined - the way it was delievered.
Because while "Shigeo" is a manifestation of Mob's powers, he also represents his bottled up emotions and even some personality traits. Ranging from strongly positive ones to more negative ones such as selfishness and indifference (to other people's lives and well-being), distrustfulness, spitefulness.
Which is why I expected a more clear dichotomy, I guess more instense emotions and line delivery when it comes to "Shigeo". The anime - also with the fact that they cut a lot of lines of their conversation, sadly - doesn't really do that much? It doesn't feel as raw.
Here's the cut lines:
Yeah you had to see my face when I read those the first time. The last frame feels so eerie, it really feels like a threat. And to "Mob" it is, obviously. Because to "Mob" - initially - "Shigeo" is the antagonist and acts so. I mean, he does antagonize "Mob", he straight up insults him, calls him weak and a coward and wants him to cease existing basically (which is mutual). There's also arrogance that we're not used to see from Mob in general, and there's clear resentment and hurt on "Shigeo"'s part, and it makes sense.
How do I explain it, overall it hurts to read? "The truth is, I don't trust anyone."
Also the frame in the anime for comparison:
Btw I don't know why they decided not to make him speak in real life too/at all. Can't explain what exactly it would add... but it would definitely add something. It makes him feel more "aware" I guess and sort of more chaotic as a result.
Do I think those lines were necessary to include? I don't know. Maybe for character analysis nerds. Again, the point is gotten across anyway, but the impact is not the same, in my opinion. So I wish there was more time spent on the inner conflict itself. (I would personally change a bunch of things from line delivery to sound design, but it's just because this moment is important to me.)
Oh and I also feel robbed of this shot, it's kind of iconic
#mob psycho 100#mp100#txttag#(this user is a ??? apologist)#again dont get me wrong bones did a very good job#not invalidating their hard work by any means#(obligatory 'english is not my first language' apology)#kageyama shigeo#mp100 meta
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O5 story. Based mostly on X-Men: Season One
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It was cold in the Xavier Mansion that day. They were out of fuel for the fireplace, the Mansion was out of power due to the recent Brotherhood visit, it was a late sunday night, Professor was out for some important matters and said the students shouldn't leave the Mansion.
Jean, Scott and Hank on the couch filled with blankets and pillows. Bobby was normal in one blanket in one of the couchs. Warren was on a mattress on the ground, wrapped around his wings with less blankets than the other.
"Jean, you're kicking my waist." Scott, in the middle of the couch, was pretty much cramped in between his friends.
"Sorry." Jean said, moving her foot from Scott's waist to his lap.
"Why don't you go to sleep in your own rooms instead of together in this couch? Do you seriously think this can fit 3 people? To sleep?" Bobby asked.
"This way, we can put together all our pillows and blankets. Also, human body heat." Hank answered.
"Hey, my couch is almost empty." Bobby tapped the couch he was in. Only him, a blanket and a pillow.
"You would freeze me in my sleep." Scott justifies.
Jean looks around the room, seeing Warren in his mattress. He didn't need that much blankets, because he already had wings. Jean remembered what Hank just said about "body heat" and had an idea. Maybe a bad idea, but a lot better than sleep-kicking Scott through the night.
"Hey, Warren? Got room for another one?" Jean asked. Warren, sleepy, didn't understand what she said at first, looking confused at the girl.
"This couch is full and you're all alone in your mattress. And I can fit there." Jean explained. Warren, finally understanding, got a pink flush on his cheeks. He knew that it was just friends sharing a bed, but he could feel the eyes of the other boys as Jean picked up a pillow and a blanket and moved to Warren's mattress.
Jean laid on his side, carefully positioned to not touch his wings. After, Warren put one of his wings on top of her, covering Jean.
"Thank you" Jean said, adjusting her pillow. Warren felt all of the eyes in the room at him, Scott especially. Although Scott seemed to stare at him with something more than typical jealousy (or maybe it was, since it was harder to know with that eye-cover of his).
Warren rested his head on the pillow, he always needed to sleep face down because of his wings. Jean turned to the side, closing her eyes.
Scott looked at Hank, as if he was trying to formulate a phrase but couldn't find the better words. Hank understood what Scott was trying to say, and gave him a "You can go" look. Scott picked up a pillow and a blanket and went to Warren and Jean's mattress.
Warren didn't even asked him questions, to sleepy to want to really talk. He lifted one of his wings and Scott carefully laid under it, turning his face to the opposite side of Warren's.
Hank seemed happy to have the whole couch for himself. Bobby stared at the mattress, looking at Warren laid face-down in the middle, Scott on one side and Jean at the other, both resting under his wings, and thought "On summer, they will come sleep with me!".
The next morning, Warren, Jean and Scott woke up cuddling much closer than when they went to sleep, to which Scott was sort of flustered, Warren was trying to play it cool (sleeping with someone with his wings out felt much more intimate than anything he did on a date), and Jean was finding their embarassment funny. Bobby was thankful he got to see that Warren Worthington III, the Angel, the guy all girls wanna date and all boys wanna be, drools in his sleep. Bobby was sure he would keep that picture forever.
#bobby drake#warren worthington iii#jean grey#scott summers#x men comics#x men#obligatory “english is not my first language” author note#this turned out less ship-y than i expected but i will still tag#scottwarren
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the lasagna cat
[ID: Digital artwork of Garfield the cat in a reclined pose. He is drawn with orange and blue colors, and a thick blue border is drawn around his shape. He is surrounded by paws and spirals of different sizes in magenta and light teal colors. In the first image, the background is a solid turquoise. In the second image, the background is purple. end ID]
#garfield#garfield the cat#garfield fanart#garfield comic#first time doing id's so sorry if i mess up#doing these is really fun#also obligatory ''english is not my first language'' disclaimer#garfield my beloved#melon's art
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headcanon that soap not only knows how to play the piano but is also insanely good at it. like he started learning at the age of 5 and practiced often until he finished high school and to this day is still very good at it.
the entire task force was very surprised when they found out about this.
#mw2#cod mw2#john soap mactavish#mw2 headcanon#call of duty#obligatory apology bc english is not my first language#and idk if i phased this correctly#mwii
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One day I swear that I will upload my Zhao x Reader fic because even tho I wrote it for myself, I didn’t write over 230 pages (and counting) for me not to upload it anywhere because my god the man has like 3 reader insert fics to his name and I’ll be damned if I didn’t change that.
#tianyou zhao#tianyou zhao x reader#yakuza like a dragon#yakuza lad#mystuff#obligatory zhao tag#english might not be my first language#(or my second)#and i might have zero experience as a writer#but that didnt stop me#edit: i hope whoever finds this knows that its on ao3 already
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GIFMAKING TUTORIAL: PHOTOPEA (for Windows)
Screencapping
Gif Width/Size Limit/Ezgif
Loading Frames
Cropping and Resizing
Rasterize/Make Frames
Sharpening
Coloring (not detailed. Links to other tutorials included)
Exporting
Obligatory Mentions: @photopeablr ; @miwtual ; @benoitblanc ; @ashleysolsen
Definitely check out these blogs for tips, tutorials and resources, they're a gold mine. Finally I recommend browsing the PHOTOPEA TUTORIAL / PHOTOPEA TUTORIAL GIF tags.
DISCLAIMER: English is not my first language and I'm not an expert on what I'm going to discuss, so if anything's unclear feel free to drop another ask.
1. SCREENCAPPING -> PotPlayer (the one I use) or MVP or KMPlayer
INSTALL PotPlayer (tutorial)
Play your movie/episode and press Ctrl + G. The Consecutive Image Capturer window will pop up. Click Start to capture consecutive frames, Stop when you got what you needed.
Where it says "Image Type -> Format" I recommend picking PNG, for higher quality screencaps.
To access the folder where the screencaps are stored, type %appdata% in windows search, open the PotPlayerMini64 folder (or 32, depending on your system) and then the Capture folder. That's where you'll find your screencaps.
Admittedly MVP is a lot faster but I prefer Potplayer because it generates (at least in my case) higher quality screencaps. MVP kind of alters the hue and it made it harder for me to color my gifs. Still, if you're interested in how to use it, I recommend this tutorial.
As for KMPlayer, every tutorial out there is outdated and I couldn't figure out the new version of the software.
2. GIF WIDTH/HEIGHT, SIZE LIMIT, EZGIF OPTMIZER
At this point you should already know how big your gifs are going to be. Remember the ideal gif width(s) on tumblr are 540 px / 268 px / 177 px. These specific numbers take into account the 4 px space between the gifs. No restrictions on height. Here are some examples:
You can play around with the height (177x400, 177x540, 268x200, 268x268, 268x350, 268x400, 540x440, 540x500, 540x540 etc) but if you go over the 10 MB limit you'll either have to make your gifs smaller/delete some frames.
OR you can go on ezgif and optimize your gif, which is usually what I do. The quality might suffer a little, but I'm not really (that) obsessed with how crispy my gifs look, or I'd download photoshop.
Depending on the gif size, you can decrease the compression level. I've never had to go over 35. It's better to start at 5 (minimum) and then go from there until you reach your desired ( <10mb) gif size. Now that I think about it I should have included this passage at the end of the tutorial, I guess I'll just mention it again.
3. LOAD YOUR FRAMES
File -> Open... -> Pick one of your screencaps. The first one, the last one, a random one. Doesn't matter. That's your Background.
File -> Open & Place -> Select all the frames (including the one you already loaded in the previous passage) you need for your gif and load them.
(I recommend creating a specific folder for the screencaps of each gif you're going to make.)
WARNING: When you Place your screencaps make sure the Crop tool is NOT selected, especially if you've already used it and the width/height values have been entered. It will mess things up - I don't know why, could be a bug.
You can either select them all with Ctrl+A or with the method I explained in the ask: "when you want to select more than one frame or all frames at once select the first one, then scroll to the bottom and, while pressing Shift, select the last one. this way ALL your frames will be selected".
WARNING: Depending on how fast your computer is / on your RAM, this process may take a while. My old computer was old and slow af, while my new one can load even a 100 frames relatively fast, all things considered. Even so, I recommend ALWAYS saving your work before loading new frames for a new gif, because photopea might crash unexpectedly. Just save your work as often as you can, even while coloring or before exporting. Trust me, I speak from experience.
Now you can go ahead and delete the Background at the bottom, you won't need it anymore.
4. CROPPING AND RESIZING
Right now your screencaps are still smart objects. Before rasterizing and converting to frames, you need to crop your gif.
Technically you can rasterize/convert to frames and then crop, BUT if you do it in that order photopea will automatically delete the cropped pixels, even if you don't select the "Delete Cropped Pixels" Option. Might be another bug, unclear.
Basically, if you crop your gif and then realize you cropped a little too much to the left or the right, you can go ahead, select the Move Tool (shortcut: V) and, after selecting ALL YOUR FRAMES, move them around on your canvas until you are satisfied. You won't be able to do this if you rasterize first and then crop, the excess pixels will be deleted. I don't know why, I found out by accident lol.
CROPPING
(Cropped pixels: the gray/opaque area outside of the selected area. That area disappears once you press enter and crop, but the pixels are retained, so you can move the frames around and reposition them as you like. In this case I could move the frames to the left and include Silver's figure [curly guy in the foreground] in the crop)
After deleting the Background, you will need to select all your frames (using the Shift key), use the C shortcut on your keyboard to choose the Crop tool. Or you can click on it, whatever's more convenient. Once you do that, a dropdown menu is going to appear. You need to select the "FIXED SIZE" option, as shown in the following screencap.
Once you do that, you can type in your desired width and height. Do not immediately press enter.
Your work area should now look like this. Now you can click on one of the white squares and enlarge the selected area until the edges are lined up. You can then move it around until it covers the area you wish to gif.
WARNING: to move the big rectangle around, you're gonna have to click on a random point of the work area, PREFERABLY not to close to the rectangle itself, or you might accidentally rotate it.
See? When your cursor is close to the selected area it turns into this rotating tool. Move it away until it reverts to your usual cursor, then you can start moving the rectangle. Press Enter when you're satisfied with the area you selected.
RESIZE
This isn't always necessary (pretty much never in my case) - and it's a passage I often forget myself - but it's mentioned in most of the tutorials I came across over the years, so I'd be remiss if I didn't include it in mine. After cropping, you'll want to resize your image.
IMAGE -> Image Size...
This window will pop up. Now, should the values in the Width and Height space be anything other than 540 and 400 (or the values you entered yourself, whatever they might be) you need to correct that. They've always been correct in my case, but again. Had to mention it.
5. RASTERIZE & MAKE FRAMES
Now that your screencaps are cropped, you can go ahead and convert them.
LAYER -> Rasterize (if you skip this passage you won't be able to Sharpen (or use any filter) on your frames at once. You'll have to Sharpen your frames one by one.
Photopea doesn't feature a timeline and it's not a video editor, which makes this passage crucial. When you select all your smart objects and try to apply a filter, the filter will only by applied to ONE frame. Once you rasterize your smart objects and make them into frames, you can select them all and sharpen them at once.
Unfortunately this also means that you won't be able to - I don't know how to explain this properly so bear with me - use all smart filters/use them in the same way a photoshop user can. For example, you can sharpen / remove noise / add noise / unsharp mask... but you can't act on those filters in the same way a photoshop user can.
When you work on smart objects you can change the blend mode - which is critical if you decide to use a filter like High Pass. If you simply apply a high pass filter on photopea you won't be able to change the blend mode and your gif will look like this (following screencaps). Or rather, you will be able to change the blend mode by clicking on the little wheel next to "High pass" (circled in green in the 2nd screencap), but you'll have to apply the filter to each frame manually, one by one.
Then you can rasterize/make into frames, but it's extremely time consuming. I did it once or twice when I first started making gifs and it got old pretty soon haha.
Layer -> Animation -> Make frames. This passage will add "_a_" at the beginning of all your frames and it's what allows you to make a (moving) gif. As I said in the ask, if you skip this passage your gif will not move.
6. SHARPENING
Some people prefer to color first and sharpen later, but I found that sharpening filters (more or less) dramatically alter the aspect of your gif and already brighten it a bit (depending on your settings) and you may end up with an excessively bright gif.
Now, sharpening settings are not necessarily set in stone. The most popular ones are 500/0.4 + 10/10, which I use sometimes. But you may also need to take into account the quality of the files you're working with + the specific tv show you're giffing. I've been using different settings for pretty much every tv show I gif, especially in the last couple months. Some examples:
followed by
OR
AMOUNT: 500% RADIUS 0.3px
followed by
AMOUNT: 20% (or 10%) RADIUS 10px
You'll just need to experiment and see what works best for your gifs.
Some gifmakers use the UNSHARP MASK filter as well (I think it's pretty popular among photopea users?) but it makes my gifs look extra grainy, makes the borders look super bright and it clashes with my coloring method(s), so I use it rarely and with very moderate settings. Something like this:
Again, depends on the gif and on what you like. I've seen it used with great results by other gifmakers!
REDUCE NOISE
Sometimes - and this is especially the case for dark scenes - your gif may look excessively grainy, depending on how bright you want to make it. Reducing noise can help. Keep it mind, it can also make it worse and mess up the quality. BUT it also reduces the size of your gif. Obviously, the higher the settings, the more quality will suffer.
These are my standard settings (either 2/70% or 2/80%). It's almost imperceptible, but it helps with some of the trickier scenes.
ADDING NOISE
Adding noise (1% or 2% max) can sometimes help with quality (or make it worse, just like reduce noise) but it will make your gif so so so much bigger, and occasionally damage the frames, which means you won't be able to load your gif on tumblr, so I rarely use it.
You'll also want to create ACTIONS which will allow you to sharpen your gifs much faster.
HOW TO CREATE AN ACTION ON PHOTOPEA
The Action Button (shaped like a Play button as you can see in the following screencaps) may not be there if you're using photopea for the first time. If that's the case click on the magnifiying glass next to "Account" (in red) and type "actions". Press Enter and the button should immediately show up.
Once you do that, click on the Folder (circled in yellow)
and rename it however you like.
now click on New Action (circled in red). now you can press the Recording button (circled in green)
Now
FILTERS -> Smart Sharpen
and you can enter your values. Then you repeat this passage (WITHOUT pressing rec, WITHOUT pressing new action or anything else, you just open the smart shapen window again) and, if you want, you can sharpen your gif some more (10%, 10px, or anything you want.)
Maybe, before creating an action, experiment with the settings first and see what works best.
When you're satisfied, you can PRESS STOP (it's the rec button, which is now a square) and you can DOWNLOAD your action (downwards facing arrow, the last button next to the bin. Sorry, forgot to circle it) .
You need to download your action and then upload it on your photopea. When you do, a window will pop up and photopea will ask you whether you wish to load the action every time you open the program. You choose "Okay" and the action will be loaded in the storage.
When you want to sharpen your gif, you select all your frames, then you click on the Play button, and select the Action, NOT the folder, or it won't work.
Actions can also be created to more rapidly crop and convert your frames, but it doesn't always work on photopea (for me at least). The process is exactly the same, except once you start recording you 1) crop your gif as explained in step 4, 2) convert into frames. Then you stop the recording and download the action and upload it. This won't work for the Rasterize step by the way. Just the Animation -> Make Frame step.
7. COLORING
Now you can color your gif. I won't include a coloring tutorial simply because I use a different method for every tv show I gif for. You normally want to begin with a brightness or a curve layer, but sometimes I start with a Channel Mixer layer to immediately get rid of yellow/green filters (there's a tutorial for this particular tool which you will find in the list I mention in the link below)
[Plus I'm not really an authority on this matter as my method is generally... fuck around and find out. Two years of coloring and I still have no idea what I'm doing. 70% of the time.]
Simple Gif Coloring for Beginners -> very detailed + it includes a pretty handy list of tutorials at the bottom.
8. EXPORTING
Now you can export your gif. Some gifmakers export their (sharpened) gifs BEFORE coloring and then load the gifs on photopea to color them. I'm not sure it makes any difference.
FILE -> EXPORT AS -> GIF
(not colored, just sharpened)
As you can see, unlike photoshop the exporting settings are pretty thread bare. The only option available is dither - it sometimes help with color banding - which, and I'm quoting from google for maximum clarity:
"refers to the method of simulating colors not available in the color display system of your computer. A higher dithering percentage creates the appearance of more colors and more detail in an image, but can also increase the file size."
SPEED
When you export your gif, it will play at a very decreased speed (100%). I usually set it at 180/190%, but as for every other tool, you might want to play around a little bit.
GIF SIZE/EZGIF OPTIMIZER (See Step 2)
And that's it.
P.S.: worth repeating
Save your work as often as you can, even while coloring or before exporting.
#photopea#my inbox is open if you have any questions <3#image heavy under the cut#photopeablr#tutorials#gif tutorial#allresources#photopea tutorial#completeresources#gifmaking
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i have a really cool prompt
hope you like my idea,
could you perhaps write a story about the current logan situation with loganxy/n ??
i love your blog soooo muchhhh
Logie and the Australian car incident
pairing: AstonMartin!y/n x Logan Sargeant (can be read platonically or romantically)
author's note: I haven't written any fanfic stuff in literal years (middle school me is quacking) but I tried my best with that one. Looking forward to any suggestions or critiques you may have :) (insert obligatory English is not my native language here) (please send promts!!!!)
The day starts off as any other day on a busy race weekend would and you are busy running around the Aston Martin garage making sure everything is in order before you return to your place at the back of the garage. You let your gaze sweep over the garage one last time before getting out your work phone and texting your boss, Lawrence, that everything is in order. The cars seem good, the mechanics had no complaints and Lance and Fernando were reasonably happy with everything. A satisfied smile washes over your face, your job was busy but reasonably easy, as the team caretaker your sole mission was to make sure the team was happy, the drivers taken care of, and the PR supervisors were not losing their minds running after their drivers while also texting Lawrence even the most minute details about his son and the other driver.
It seems quite redundant to you, but Lawrence Stroll pays well and who are you to turn down a job as a glorified team nanny.
You take a seat at the back and watch the first practice session absentmindedly, letting your gaze wander down to your phone occasionally, and scrolling through Twitter, scoffing at all the hate towards the current grid. It never ceases to amaze you how people can be so hateful, but then again, some people are just unhappy about their own lives. Looking up at the screen you watch a Williams car hit the wall on the right before sliding across the track and grinding its way to a stop on the left barrier. You gasp as you jump up, the rest of the garage wincing in sympathy as the car finally stops. You quickly turn to a mechanic nearby. “Who was that?”, you ask a little panicked as you watch the red flag fly and a driver in a Williams race suit climb out of the cockpit. “Albon, I think”, the mechanic replies helpfully as you try and suppress a relieved sigh. You still feel sorry for Alex but simultaneously thanking your lucky stars that Logan was not the one in an accident this time.
When Logan first got signed by Williams you both were ecstatic, you had met years ago when your parents had taken you on a vacation to Florida where you met Logan and you’ve kept in touch ever since. You had already been working for Aston Martin when Logan started in F1 and the fact that you could spend a lot more time together now served as further motivation to both of you to give it your best. You quickly shoot him a text, knowing he won’t be responding until later, before sending your boss a quick update and making sure the crash had not affected your team.
You honestly had forgotten you texted Logan in the first place as you watch the cars head out for the second practice session, Alex staying back in the pits, watching his teammate drive. You smile as you send Logan some memes you had found on twitter, knowing he would have a laugh once he got back to his room after the strenuous practice sessions of the day. Aston Martin, for once, had no major issues you had attend to and you could lean back and relax, as much as one in a Formula 1 garage can relax, in your seat while harassing the Aston Martin Instagram Admin with Memes you think they should be posting asap.
As the second practice session ends you help the team pack up and prepare for the next day as the drivers attend to their media duties and you stretch in relief as the first day of the Australian Grand Prix comes to an end. After having everything sorted you get out your work phone and sign off for the day before taking out your personal phone and responding to some texts before checking your chat with Logan, seeing that he had read your messages but not responded. ‘You ok?’, you send him before shrugging off any worry you might have. Surely, he was just busy, after all, he was the only Williams driver that would be starting on Sunday. You really wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, the weight of the entire team and all the fans’ expectations resting on your shoulders. You might have a lot of responsibility but at least you were free of the expectations fans place on the drivers, mechanics and team principals.
You quickly slip into the shower of your private hotel room, a perk you were eternally grateful for, and put on some pajamas before order room service. You had earned it after all and looking after your figure was thankfully not a concern you had. ‘Ignoring your bestie? That’s not how I know you Loggie!’ you text Logan as you open the door for the food you had ordered and sit down before digging into the pepperoni pizza you had been craving for a week.
You startle as you hear a knock from your hotel room door. You shoot a quick glance at your phone, 11pm. You quietly approach the door and look through the peephole cautiously. Who would disturb you that late on a race weekend? Looking through the hole you see Logan at the door, his face unusually pale and his expression unnervingly neutral. Quickly you reach for the doorhandle, pulling the door open. “Logie? What got you a-knocking that late?”, you ask jokingly but the lighthearted smile on your face quickly fades as he stands on the swell of your door like a man lost, his eyes suspiciously watery. “Oh dear”, you mumble as you quickly pull him into your room and heard him towards your bed, letting him sit down before standing before him and looking at him with a stern expression. “What’s wrong?”, you ask, concern written all over your face.
He sighs, falling back onto the bed. “They’re taking my car.”, his voice sounds wobbly as he explains. “Who is taking your car?”, you ask, your voice confused.
“James. He said Alex has a higher chance of scoring and I get it, but I tried so hard, you know? They said they trusted me, and I was ready to proof how much I have improved and now I can’t drive at all. I didn’t crash the car! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything…”, he rambles, his voice flowing between sadness, anger and betrayal before ending in defeat. You look at him, he still has his upper body lying on your bed, his feet dangling off the side as he continues explaining what had happened. Quietly you sit down next to him on the bed and gently stroke through his hair as you let him talk out his frustrations. “y/n? What do I do now?”, Logan asks as he looks up at you, his eyes still wet but trying his hardest to not shed a tear.
“I will put the fear of God into that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.”, you explain very matter of factly. “I’m gonna walk down to the Williams hospitality and I’m gonna scream at your team principal!”, you declare with a huff as you get off of your bed and towards where you kicked off your shoes when you came back from the paddock earlier that night.
“Y/N, do NOT do that.”, Logan warns as he gets up and grabs your hand. “That is just going to make it worse.” “Okay but it’s also gonna make me feel a lot better ‘cause who does he think he is? Taking your car and giving it away. I’m gonna make him regret this entire week” you say angrily as you look up at him with determination and the wrath of someone who’s best friend was just wronged in your eyes.
“Please don’t”, Logan asks with sad eyes, gripping your hand even tighter. “Please just stay with me tonight, I feel sick. I just want to cry.”, he admits to you as you feel your resolve break. “But- “, you trail off as you watch him stand before you, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You sigh in defeat before squeezing his hand. “Right but only ‘cause you asked me to, if it was up to me…”, you stop, leaving the threat hang in the air of your hotel room as you head towards the small desk. “Pizza”, you declare as you shove the leftovers of your pizza into Logans hands. “My TV has Netflix, what do you want to watch?”, you ask as you throw yourself into the hotel room bed and turn on the flatscreen TV hanging opposite it.
Logan lets out a surprised laugh and sits down next to you, the pizza carton still tightly in his hands as he gets out a slice and lets you choose whatever show you find on the homepage. The evening continues in relative silence as Logan finishes the pizza and you sit in the bed, leaning onto each other. “I’m still sending him negative vibes, like spiritually”, you grumble as he giggles before slipping off to sleep for the night.
#logan sargeant#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#x reader#logan sargeant x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 x oc#first fic in a long time#ls2 x reader#ls2
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AITA for lying to my boss about my sexuality?
English is not my first language so please bear with me. Also, long post.
For context: I'm (30F) doing something like an unpaid virtual internship to graduate with my technical degree. I don't think there's an equivalent in the US of this but it's close enough. The thing is that is an obligatory step to graduate. If I didn't get a company to do it, my boss "fails" me (he has to give feedback to the institute for me to pass) or if I quit before finishing I have to pay for an extra semester to do it again.
Since the beginning, I found my boss annoying, he has that know-it-all kind of attitude and doesn't really accept others' opinions. I didn't think much of it and figured it didn't matter since it was just for 4 months and I was out. I carried on, became the leader of one of the teams of interns, and started to work more closely with him and the other team leaders because of it.
After the first month, he started to become inappropriate. Once I sent him a text for feedback on a report my team and I had to make, he sent me an audio and I resend it to my team because it was good feedback. When I told him this, he "jokingly" asked why would I do that, and what if he had sent me something "dirty". I was stunned. I ignored that comment and said it was good and that's why I sent it.
In another opportunity, he texted me that in another life he would marry me when I was reporting in Google Meet about my team. I ignored it again, didn't answer, and kept talking at the reunion. More recently, he sent me a text saying "I like you" and then changed it to "I like it" in response to a paper he had asked me for and then deleted the original text.
I talked about this with my therapist, friends, and brothers, and all of them advised me to keep ignoring his comments and report him to my institute once the internship was over. So I wouldn't have to do another semester in case he got offended by me rejecting his advances and failed me.
I agreed with that. But in the last couple of months, he started to do these "jokes" in the reunions we have with the other interns. Saying things like we texted each other about dirty things. I always say it's a lie and he laughs but it rubs me wrong because I don't want my peers to think I'm in my position as a result of our boss having the hots for me.
With all that being said, last Thursday we were in a reunion with just the team leaders, and he "jokingly" made this comment about how he and I talk after hours more intimately. I was having a bad day and about had it with his stupid comments, so I grabbed my cup (I was drinking tea. It has a rainbow kind of design) and said "This doesn't say anything to you?" implying that I'm a lesbian. While I am not straight, I'm not actually homosexual, I just wanted him to stop. He laughed it off saying he already knew and such and then we kept going with the reunion.
After we were done, he asked me to stay in the Google Meet and told me again he already knew that I was a lesbian that he was always joking around when he said some things to me, and that it would be weird if he didn't because he does it with everyone else. In these almost 4 months, I never heard him say anything to anyone else.
I just have a week left until I'm done and I feel awful for lying about something like that. I don't think I'll come clean, but it's been bothering me. So, AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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skz + acts of service
a/n: it’s two am and this isn’t proofread. just word pasta
cw/genre: fluff, english isn’t my first language, swearing, gn reader and lmk if anything else should be tagged! <3
summary: skz expressing and receiving love through acts of service
this is part of my 1k June special you can find here! ->
(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)
—————
chan
-his acts of service are small but plentiful
-picks up after you, grabs your laundry or runs errands he knows you need to complete, puts your leftovers in the fridge and whatever, he makes sure you’re staying on top of things
-he tries to avoid telling you about all the things he does for you but you take notice considering the fact that when you started dating him your life was going SUSPICIOUSLY well
-so you make sure you beat him at the acts of service competition that doesn’t exist, you tidy up his desk or massage his shoulders, you randomly enter his studio to drop off snacks and food or you go to the dorms to help him tidy up
-it means so much to him that you look out for him like that :,) it’s in his nature to look out for others but it just feels so good when someone returns his favors
-“you don’t have to do that for me y/n” and you just smile and ur like “I know. I just want to.”
-WHDHSJDBSD he clutches his chest and is peppering kisses AAAAALLL over ur face as a thank you
lee know
-its very obligatory things that’s expected as a boyfriend, just because he expresses love in other ways? like he does what he should to be a healthy and loving boyfriend but it’s not his love language to do things for you rlly
-but he gives up your time for you willingly and lovingly (even if it doesn’t seem like it) “baby why the fuck are your clothes organized like this??” and he helps you organize
-or he cooks dinner for you, or meal preps breakfast because he knows he can’t always be there to eat at a normal dinner time LMAO
-it’s not his fave love language because it feels overwhelming to have someone do so much for him, he appreciates it more than you can realize but it’s also a bit scary because he feels indebted to you and he doesn’t know how to handle that
-so his shy “thank you” and blushing is him being appreciative I PROMISSEEEE he’s just excited and overwhelmed
-“thank you, I love u” w a kiss on your cheek
changbin
-maybe I’m bad at this but I’m having difficulty w these acts of services TT
-he doesn’t give it very much and he also can feel kinda awkward receiving it because he doesn’t want you to feel responsible for getting him lunch or making his bed in the morning
-but if ur super serious about acts of service as a love language he’ll warm up to it and try to do things to “repay” you no matter how much you insist you don’t need him too
-he goes out of the way to do small things for you tho, things that a boyfriend doesn’t usually does but he does <3 he orders at restaurants for you, drives you to places, puts away your personal items or stuff hehe
-i think he could probably cry at some acts of services because he feels really loved and appreciated, it’s not a love language he feels he needs but it’s a love language he surprisingly likes <3
-expect a bouquet of roses and a nice gift bb he’s gonna spoil you as a thanks
hyunjin
-king of acts of services even if it’s not his main love language, and he appreciates when you do the same but he insists it’s not necessary, he’d rather you just hold and kiss him tbh
-def the type to tie your shoes for you that is my fave ever love language so I’m incredibly jealous of you rn bye
-he untangles your hair for you, helps you practice self care, gives you a nice massage after a stressful day, gets you breakfast and coffee, etc etc
-he likes acts of service in a more small way, like you just brushing his hair as well, bringing him a hot towel to his dance practices, or organizing his skincare yknow yknow
-he’s more of a giver and he’d rather you reciprocate his acts through physical touch or quality time
-but he doesn’t hate it I promise he’ll thank you and press kisses all over your face and spoil you with attention and love if he finds you doing laundry for him
-is it obvious i don’t know what acts of service actually are 🤣🤣🤣🤣
han
-he doesn’t realize how often he commits acts of service until you point it out or comment on it lolol
-(brb googling examples of acts of service rn) he always helps you with your daily errands if he’s able to, since yknow he has that whole idol thing going on :}
-I’m not sure if it counts but he also remembers every single important date and event so he can remind you or prepare something special for that date
-he also always asks if there’s any way he can help you out when he’s free or if there’s any errands as he can go run them with you
-receiving makes him feel so so so special but he won’t express it because it feels like you think you’re responsible for him and he’s worrying it’s draining on the relationship
-but if u reassure him otherwise he’ll gladly enjoy your acts of service and always say thank you and never brush them off no matter how small the act was
-he just adores the feeling of knowing that you went out of your way to do the dishes in the apartment or when he’s at a schedule and he gets a lunch delivery from you, he bawls his eyes out tbh <333
felix
-his acts of service are really domestic, and he also enjoys when you reciprocate. Not that he expects you to and doesn’t want you to feel indebted, it just makes him feel like you acknowledge his efforts to take care of you
-he meal preps every day for you no matter how busy he is, he is ensuring you eat well ‼️‼️
-the type of boyfriend to say “did you drink water” when you mention you have a headache
-bakes you pastries for your workplace/peers, posts you all the time on his private story, organizes your shared apartment when he’s away, always allows you to have some of his food, etc etc
-gets all giggly if you do the same for him
-has a little sunshine-like smile and goes “thank youuuu” while giving you a tight hug !!! so wildly in love with the domestic aspect of it all he gets butterflies at the idea of being able to wake up to you and brewing you a cup of coffee in the morning
-texts you thank yous if he’s at work, but they’re always paragraphs long with a cute little sticker to accompany the message
seungmin
-does it mindlessly tbh, it’s a minor love language to him in both giving and receiving because in his mind these are just the things you should do in a relationship??
-gets really confused if you get sappy on him for an act of service because isn’t that just what he’s supposed to do as a boyfriend??
-(the tik tok sound that goes: “who the fuck fucked up this house like this??” plays in his head)
-makes sure you commit to your goals so that you can succeed which is annoying sometimes but really beneficial in the long run, waters your plants if you’re away, offers you the last piece of a snack, gives you his jacket if he noticed you shivering while out, saves you a seat when you two go out with friends and you run late
-but to him these are all just responsibilities of a boyfriend, but he also holds this expectation to you?? not in the same degree but he will find it a sort of normal occasion in a relationship if you make the bed or share your umbrella or record his favorite drama…
-says thank you, he just doesn’t understand how it’s a love language lmao
jeongin
-unlike seungmin who sees it as just another act of a boyfriend his chest swells w pride when he commits to his “boyfriend responsibilities”
-especially when you giggle and say thank you, he love love loves the way you look at him so fondly when you come home to a clean apartment or the pantry restocked, etc etc
-he also mindlessly does smaller things for you he doesn’t even realize count as acts of service, slows down if he walks too fast, grabs your hand when you two cross the street, or putting your water bottle in the fridge so it’s nice and cold when you drink it :>
-gets kinda surprised and taken aback if you do acts of service on a big scale, he feels like he’s indebted to you but also really enjoys being spoiled it’s so conflicting TT
-“you don’t have to babe!! but don’t stop…if you want to!!” -him probably
-his heart gets all soft when you do small things, plugging in his phone if he falls asleep, remembering important events and reminding him, always checking in on him…
-u guys r so cute STOP 😭😭
•••
taglist: @chansburgah @hamburgers101 @spacegirlstuff @mxrivicgb @endless-tsundoku
#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x reader#stray kids blurbs#stray kids headcanons#stray kids fluff#skz reactions#skz x reader#skz fluff
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Home is wherever you are| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader
Summary: After a few months of a lovely relationship, it's time for Kylian to meet your parents and you think he might be uncomfortable or ashamed of the kind of life they lead.
Warnings: English is not my first language
Even though your profession brings you into contact with celebrities, you never entertained the idea of pursuing a relationship with one. Since childhood, you've relished taking charge and imprinting your unique touch on everything you do. From an early age, you delighted in crafting with fabric scraps your mother would occasionally bestow upon you. Despite their humble nature, these textiles fueled your boundless imagination, solidifying your passion for event organization when it came time to choose your path.
Navigating the world of event planning wasn't without its challenges, as success often hinged on one's network. Thus, you embarked on the gradual process of building connections. Initially daunting, given your upbringing in a small village where genuine relationships trumped networking, you acclimated to the dynamic.
Typically, clients reached out to you through referrals from former acquaintances, and you made it your mission to orchestrate celebrations that would linger in their memories. To some, your meticulous attention to detail might have seemed excessive, but to you, each element held significance. Even the simplest of adornments, like napkins, warranted careful selection, ensuring every moment became indelible. Yet, despite your dedication, you felt uneasy attending these events. Whether due to social anxiety or shyness, you preferred delegating oversight to a trusted employee, prepared to intervene remotely if any issues arose.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly for little Amin Hakimi's party until a last-minute hiccup with the birthday cake. Maintaining control was your forte, and such mishaps were rare. However, when they did occur, you hesitated to dispatch an employee to rectify the situation. While the bakery bore responsibility for the oversight, you owned the consequences for placing trust in them. With resolve, you swiftly retrieved the box and hastened to the venue.
Upon your arrival, Hakimi reassured you, understanding the situation, insisting that everything was fine as the party had just begun. Initially, you intended to depart, but he skillfully appealed to your emotions, emphasizing how saddened Amin would be if you left. Tentatively, you attempted to acclimate to the ambiance, grabbing a few canapés, but your efforts were interrupted by a suave Frenchman eager to engage you in conversation. Thanks to him, the evening passed swiftly.
Following that serendipitous encounter, a string of dates ensued, and before either of you knew it, love blossomed unexpectedly. Kylian, typically guarded about his personal life, met his match in your reserved nature. Concerned about public perception and wary of being perceived as with him for his fame, you opted to support him discreetly, save for major games. Kylian, understanding your stance, found added motivation in performing well, knowing you'd be watching.
It was at the Ligue 1 final that you found yourself face-to-face with his parents, a situation orchestrated by Kylian himself. Yet, you couldn't protest, feeling an instant connection with them. From that moment on, they became integral figures in your life.
Now, after eight months together and with the leisure of summer allowing Kylian more flexibility, introducing him to your parents had become almost obligatory. Not doing so risked misconceptions, suggesting secrecy where none existed. They were affectionate and supportive individuals who always championed your aspirations as if they were their own. Their modest lifestyle wasn't due to financial constraints but rather a source of genuine contentment. For instance, your mother eschewed modern conveniences like washing machines and tumble dryers, finding solace in the simplicity of handwashing clothes—a sacred moment for her to reflect amidst the melodies of birdsong. Similarly, your father's preference for a gas stove over a ceramic hob wasn't a matter of practicality but a belief that it imbued dishes with a distinct flavor. You never felt ashamed of their choices; rather, they were the bedrock of your life. Fully aware of your relationship with a football player, they eagerly anticipated meeting him.
So, after preparing a quick protein shake for Kylian to drink after training, you knew it was time to start that conversation.
"Thank you so much, mon amour," Kylian said quickly as he hurried to sit beside you while you sipped the shake you had prepared for him.
"You're welcome, darling. By the way, there's something I've been thinking about, and I'd like to tell you," you said, nervously playing with the bracelets adorning your wrist.
Kylian immediately noticed your nervous gestures and grew concerned. Swiftly, he took your hands in his and said, "Is everything alright? You know you can tell me anything. No matter how overwhelming it may seem, we'll figure it out together."
Upon seeing his loving gestures, you couldn't help but muster a shy smile that his comments had elicited. Quickly, you addressed the burgeoning concern for Kylian. "No, no, nothing is wrong. I simply thought that it was time for you to meet my parents. Though don't worry, I know it's a long car journey and you might feel tired, so if that's the case, we can..."
Before you could continue, Kylian silenced you with a subtle kiss, smiling warmly. "Mon amour, nothing would make me happier."
Despite Kylian's early fame bringing a myriad of opportunities with numerous women, he held the notion of meeting your parents in high regard. For him, it was an intimate milestone in a relationship, and he was certain that he wanted that with you.
From that day forward, Kylian was filled with excitement, so the first weekend he had free, without any interviews or company campaigns, was earmarked to meet your parents. Additionally, he consistently sought your input on attire and suitable gifts for your parents. While he typically favored sporty attire and luxury brands, he harbored no fear of judgment from his potential in-laws. However, he recognized the importance of harmonizing with the natural setting. Ultimately, he settled on vegan soaps infused with natural essences for your mother and a bottle of wine sourced from a vineyard near his locale as the optimal choice for your father.
"Ma cherie, I promise you everything is going to be fine; you have nothing to worry about," Kylian reassured you, casting a reassuring smile as they stopped at a red light.
"I know, honey, but remember they don't have all the electronic resources you're used to, so if you need hot water or if you need to wash your clothes, don't hesitate to..." you said nervously until Kylian interrupted.
"Shhh, mon amour, I've already told you that I went on a school trip to a farm school, and they were the best days of my life, not counting the day I met you. So relax, don't worry."
When you arrived and beheld your parents' quaint little house adorned with various flowers, likely planted by your mother during her gardening course, the first thing you did was greet Fleur, your German shepherd, enveloping her in a warm hug. Your bond with your dog had always been strong and leaving her behind when you moved to the big city had been heartbreaking.
"Mum, we're here" you called out, raising your voice slightly, knowing she could be anywhere in the garden.
Receiving no response, you intertwined your hand with Kylian's, guiding him through the garden as you searched for your parents. You couldn't help but be amused as you watched Kylian marvel at the various objects in sight.
"Honey, this is incredible, like something out of a movie. I wish that when I retire from football and you're not as tied up with your event planning, we could live in a place like this. Or maybe we could buy a second home now to relax when we are stressed," Kylian remarked, his words prompting a smile to spread across your face. You leaned in to give him a gentle kiss, silently conveying your love for his idea and your willingness to do anything as long as it was with him.
Finally, you encountered your mother amidst the strawberry bushes she had likely planted months earlier. Upon seeing you, her excitement was palpable as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Your closeness with your mother was evident, and despite your parents having a phone, they preferred face-to-face conversations, relishing every opportunity to catch up. She released you quickly, however, turning her attention to your companion.
"My goodness, you're taller than I thought," she exclaimed, wrapping Kylian in an affectionate hug. Kylian chuckled softly and reciprocated the hug, embracing his mother-in-law warmly.
After the introductions were complete, your father arrived, having just returned from a ride on his tractor. You all entered the house and settled into the cozy living room, adorned with a wooden table crafted by your father and a fireplace that held a special place in the family's heart, having been passed down through generations.
From that moment on, Kylian's excitement was palpable as he eagerly assisted your parents in any way he could. What made it even better was knowing he wasn't doing it to impress them; he was genuinely fascinated by their ability to thrive without modern technology. He looked like a child following your father around, trying to comprehend the wonders of their world.
"He's a good boy. You're going to marry him," your mother suddenly remarked, handing you a cup of tea.
"What?" you asked, dumbfounded. While marrying Kylian was certainly your desire, your parents hadn't always been keen on your past partners, so their swift intuition caught you off guard.
"Call it mother's instinct or whatever you like, but I'm certain. Mark my words," your mother replied, gazing out the window as the sunset.
You cherished the truth in your mother's words, yet you didn't want to rush and miss out on important moments. So, you savored every adventure with Kylian, allowing your love to deepen with each passing day.
In the end, it seemed your mother's intuition was spot on when you exchanged vows in a quaint stable three years later.
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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.
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.
–––
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Everything at Once
Dieter Hellstrom × Original Fem Character
Heyyyy. So this is my first ever fanfic, I know it's not good. Please be nice!!! I hope y'all like it! There will be multiple parts to it, I didnt leave you on a cliffhanger for fun haha!
Warnings: cursing, N*zis, angst, discrimination, Dieter is kind of a dick, soon to be smut (still in the works you horndogs) violence maybe in the future. Still working out the kinks 😉😘 I do not support N*zis in any shape or form WWII should not be glamorized into thinking what N*zis did was okay. This is just for fun, for the Inglourious Basterds fandom, especially Hans Landa, Dieter Hellstrom and Landstrom ship.
Also, English is not my first language and writing in English is a little difficult so there will be some grammatical errors. I'm sorryyy Anything not in English will be translated! Please enjoy and let me know if you like it and if I should continue and if you wanna be tagged for the future.
(not my gif)
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It was a cold, gloomy morning in Nazi occupied Paris. The idea of a Nazi occupied Parisian life, sounded ideal to the Germans who'd forcefully make themselves comfortable. Croissants, berets, beautiful women, free-spirited music and lifestyle but of course, obligatory anti-semitic men in uniform terrorizing anyone they wanted.
A man in uniform is a well sought after type for women, just not these men.
It was around 8 o'clock on a Monday, the start of the work day. Cafe doors were unlocked, pastries were set out, and fresh coffee was slowly brewing. Camille wiped her hands on her apron and sighed.
"Hopefully more customers today..." she thought aloud.
Her father owned the bakery and since he was taken away by those horrible foreigners for "questioning", Camille was the sole inhabitant of the cafe.
She wiped a bead of sweat off her brow and looked out the window. It was still cold and cloudy but there was something different...
She heard birds sing. The birds havent sung in years! Will the sun shine? Will the clouds roll away?
The cafe door chimes ring violently as two men walked in the cafe. A tall, lanky, pale man all in black besides a red cuff and a shorter older man with his jacket littered with medals and emblems, clearly SS.
Camille, startled awake from her daydream greeted them.
"Bonjour messieurs, qu'avez-vous envie de manger" (Hello sirs, what would you like to eat?)
The tall, pale man stared at her. Little moles scattered his face like constellations, his undereyes dark and slightly pink. Looks like he hasn't slept in days. His black hair slicked back, he wore a neutral expression.
The older and superior man nudged his stonewall-faced friend out of his stupor and cleared his throat, "Ah, mademoiselle, deux cafés et deux strudels, s'il vous plaît." he replied, holding up his fingers when saying the number two. His little smug smile and Eagle-like eyes seemed like he was analyzing everything all at once.
(Ah, miss, two coffees and two strudels, please)
The taller man looked down at the other. Clearly more annoyed. "Hans...I dont want strudel. I don't eat that sweet shit." he said in German behind gritted teeth.
Hans, the other man hummed, amused in the annoyance. His smuggy smile grew.
"Oui, s'il vous plaît, asseyez-vous où vous voulez. Tout devrait bientôt sortir." Camille replied, blushing slightly as the tall man continued his gaze upon her. Why is he staring at me like that...?(Yes, please sit where you like. Everything will be out soon.)
The men sat near one of the window, close to the door. On the table was a white lace table cloth with small little pink flowers embroidered in and a vase full of different colored flowers. The pale man secretly watched Camille as she scurried around the kitchen, trying his absolute hardest not to look at her waist and not to be caught.
Hans took notice. "You're not much of a sly fox as you think you are, Dieter old boy." He whispered. The pale man scoffed and rolled his eyes. His fingers toying with the lace of the tablecloth.
As Camille grabbed the strudels off the warm rack and set them respectfully on the dishes, she caught a glimpse of the pale man. He got caught staring again. A slight rosey tint blushed on his cheeks, he found himself getting very annoyed.
Camille took short notice of the red cuff on his arm. Must be gestapo or some sort of high security. The Gestapo were never friendly. Clearly the Hans man was SS, high ranking. But, he seemed friendly? But, does it matter? Should she be afraid? They just want food. Right...?
Camille walked over to the men and set the strudels and coffee cups down for each of them. She poured the hot coffee into both cups from the kettle. The pale man visibly tensed as the women came closer to him.
Hans chuckled to himself quietly observing his nervous friend.
"Rien d'autre?" Camille asked, putting his hands behind her back. (Anything else?)
"Silence?" The pale man dismissed her with a wave and started to drink the coffee. Creme and sugar were already placed but he drank it black. Oof. Rough morning?
"Dieter! Must you!?" Hans scolded the man. 'Dieter' choked mid-sip of his coffee, nearly spraying the hot liquid everywhere as his superior chastised him in German, something about being rude or inconsiderate and also something about not keeping the coffee not in his trap or in the cup.
"D'accord. Je t'apporterai le chèque!" Camille said fast, trying to diffuse the situation. Her face beet red in embarrassment. (Its okay! I'll bring the check!) She quickly ran behind the counter to grab the check and few napkins and set them on their table and disappeared back behind the counter.
Great start. Two Nazis come in, one is a jerk with a staring problem and spilled coffee everywhere as his suspicious higher up is currently yelling at him about "arschloch" this and "dummkopf" that.
Camille busied herself in rearranging the pastries on the rack, trying not to over hear the little German she can understand.
To be continued 😘😘😘
@whore4waltz @rurivu @xoxocillian @fridaycanbesadsometimes @racheljo47 @whitechoc135 @officerh4t @blueberrypancakesworld @hanslandasstrudel
#august diehl#german actors#inglorious basterds#inglorious basterds (2009)#inglourious basterds#dieter hellstrom#hans landa#landstrom#dieter hellstrom x reader#inglorious basterds fanfic#this is so bad
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It's been a long, long time
Steve Rogers x reader
Being on a mission, even with Captain America and Bucky Barnes, is a dangerous thing. One could become injured, and maybe even need someone to take care of oneself…
A/N: trying to get into writing again – it’s been a while (you might even say it’s been a long, long time XD ). Contains violence, swearing, bodily harm. Also pining and awkwardness. And a dose of idiots to lovers.
Obligatory English is not my first language.
Word count: 8893
***
The evening is freezing cold. There is promise of snow in the air, but none of us have the time to appreciate it. We have a job to do. Villains to stop, a world to save. You know, the usual. It should be a quick in and out again. Cap and Bucky are taking the helm on this, and I’m bringing up the rear today.
The only thing heard in the cargo bay as we ready ourselves, check the gear one last time before they let us go, is the noise from the quinjet. Then almost total silence as the pilot switches into stealth mode. A buckle snaps into place, soft steps on the hard floor, a cough. It’s the quiet before the storm.
“You ready?”
“Lead the way, Cap,” I reply with a grin. If he only knew I would follow him through fire and back.
“Buck?”
“Let’s go.”
The air rushes in as the hatch lowers, and we walk side by side towards the opening. The plan is to jump out once the plane is low enough and enter the base on the north side, then quietly and quickly take out the enemy before we wipe the system in the control room. I do believe there’s a possibility of fire too.
I glance up at Steve. He’s standing still, his face focused and serious, no doubt going over the plan in his head again. To think I would have the privilege of working with him, and Bucky, like this… I feel like I’ve proven myself to… well, myself. And I never really thought that he would be standing here, so close to me. There’s so much I want to say, to tell him, but words can wait until another day. Right now we have a task to do.
I stare into the darkness, watching the tiny lights in the distance grow larger and larger. Good thing I’ve never been afraid of heights.
Steve jumps first, then Bucky, and soon I follow suit. It’s a short, but exhilarating trip through the air before I hit the ground, tucking my body to do a front flip, and landing on my feet. Then I carefully fold the small parachute and stuff it back into the pouch, sending a quiet thanks to Stark and his nanotech.
Before I allow myself to be proud of my landing, I take a moment to make sure both Steve and Bucky are ok. They look like they’re just out for an evening stroll. Steve adjusts his shield and gestures silently towards the base. A wordless ‘let’s go’, waiting for confirmation from us. Bucky rolls his shoulders, I nod. The snow on the ground muffles the sound of our steps as we slip undetected into the base.
Peeking around the corner of the nearest building, a shed or storage of some sort, Steve holds up three fingers, then points to the left. Guards. Not unexpected. We all know what to do. Bucky pulls himself up onto the roof. I can’t see him in the dark, but I know he’s positioning himself for an attack.
“Think you can get them to come a bit closer?” Steve whispers, so close to my ear that I can feel the warmth of his breath. A slight tremble ripples over my body, and the hair on the nape of my neck rises. Jeez! That man is going to be the death of me.
“Of course,” I reply confidently, trying hard to not give away that I was two seconds from sinking to my knees in front of him. Holding my head high, I saunter into the lamplight. “Hey, boys. What’s a girl gotta do to have some fun around here?”
Three heads snap up, and after a moment of confusion, they charge, momentarily forgetting the guns in their hands. I whip out my batons and power up the charge, but before I can do anything, Bucky lands on top of the biggest guy. I can hear the snap of the guard’s leg breaking from here; it sends chills down my spine. He groans and mutters something inaudible, but before he can finish his sentence, Bucky’s fist connects with his nose.
Steve whips around the corner, taking the other guards by surprise – at least if we go by the yelling and cursing. And so it begins. I have to keep myself from laughing with the adrenaline and thrill. I almost feel lightheaded as my energy rushes through me. The middle of my baton strikes the soldier’s shin, sending him to the ground. I leap on him, shoving my knee squarely in his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. Then I bring a baton round, activating the switch to send a jolt of electricity through his neck. He collapses down into the snow and twitches for a few seconds.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Steve land a solid blow to the jaw of one of the guards, making him drop like a sack of potatoes. I grant myself a small smile. He returns it when he sees me.
The base isn’t fully manned, but there are still enough soldiers to make me break out a sweat. They’re not very disciplined, though, throwing punches this way and that. Finally a bullet whizzes past, hitting the wall behind us with a bang, but before the shooter can even think about pulling the trigger again, Steve’s shield hits both him and the gun. A previously unseen soldier makes his way to pick it up, but Bucky beats him to it, and knocks him down before throwing the shield back to Steve. The way his shoulders roll with the catch sends a shiver down my spine and heat to my ears. I can only imagine how that would look without the suit.
“Get a grip! You’re working!” I mutter to myself, shaking my head to clear my mind. But that moment of distraction rewards me a hard blow to the jaw. I stumble backwards and flex it. Nothing’s broken, but it’s gonna leave me with one hell of a bruise.
The idiot thinks he got the upper hand and stalks toward me brandishing a knife. I wink at him and swing around to kick him in the chest. He staggers, and with a swift movement I am on his shoulders, my thighs firmly pressing on his throat. A garbled laugh slips from his lips, and then finally his knife clatters to the ground. The gurgling stops, and he topples over. I roll off him, get to my feet and dust myself off, satisfied with my work.
The fight has died down, the ground is littered with dead or dying men. We take a moment to get control over the situation, to make sure there’s no one lying in wait for us. The area is clear. All soldiers and officers are accounted for.
“Nice save,” Bucky smirks. “I was wondering if you needed help.”
Steve smiles warmly. “She doesn’t. Never have.”
The heat in my ears spreads over my cheeks. Thank my lucky stars that I’m already flushed from the fight. It would be so typical to be betrayed by my rushing blood now, after denying myself the truth for so long. I swallow the giggle in my chest, but I can’t stop the stupid grin. “It’s a team effort,” I huff slightly out of breath, ignoring the embarrassment. “Wouldn’t have survived without you two here. You good?”
Nodding, Bucky pats my shoulder. “Yep. Going to have a few bruises in the morning, but nothing I can’t handle. You?”
“Mhm.” I grin. “We made a good team out there.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, wiping blood from his split lip. “We do make a good team.” He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times to continue, but apparently changes his mind. Instead, he looks to Bucky, and then back at me. His eyes widen, dropping the snow he used to wipe his hands clean. “Oh, Jesus! Your face! You’re bleeding!”
Wiping my brow, I wave him off. “It’s nothing. The other guy is worse off. Uh, what’s next?” I ask, shifting the conversation to something else, even though I know the plan inside and out. Now that the fight is over, exhaustion rolls over me. I had almost forgotten the toll a mission like this takes.
“Easiest part left,” Bucky replies, pushing his hair from his face. “Disable the system, and then we get to play with flames.” He grins like a kid that’s been let loose in a candy store.
“Piece of cake, that. Let’s go so I can get home at take a nice, hot shower. Get all this gunk off of me.” I smack my lips and wipe a lump of something thick and gloopy from my neck. “Ew!”
“According to the map provided by SHIELD, the control room is located right next to the main gate. Follow me. I’d like to get home and take a shower too.” Steve takes off with light steps.
They’re a bit faster than me; I can’t really get my feet to follow. Not that that’s anything unusual. I haven’t got the stamina that the serum gives, so I always follow at my own pace.
Breathing hard and with adrenaline fading, I lean on the wall for a bit. I just need a small break. Unlike Cap, I can’t do this all day. At least not without a little pause to catch my breath. My uneven breath.
Something feels off. There’s static in my earpiece and a weird rumbling in my mind. I shake to clear my head, but it only makes me dizzy.
When I push off the wall, I wince. The right side of my torso feels warm, too warm, and it aches; that dull ache that leaves an ominous echo in my mind. Looking down, I realise my jacket is torn, and when I touch the fabric, my fingers come away dark and sticky. Fuck!
Glancing up, I see Cap and Bucky pushing on, already almost out of sight, fully focused on the mission. No need to distract them. I’ll deal. We’ll meet at the rendezvous point later.
The zipper sounds harsh in my ears, ripping through the air like a chainsaw, revealing the extent of my predicament. There’s a deep gash running from my bellybutton to my ribs on the right hand side. Double-fuck!
Cold air caresses the wound, snowflakes dance in the dim light. It burns. I have to blink to keep my focus as nausea creeps up, making me even dizzier. My tongue feels thick and fuzzy. No way I’m walking away from this. Rubbing my eyes, I get a final glimpse of Steve rounding the corner and then he’s out of sight. I’m hit with a sudden pang of regret: I never got to tell him… anything.
Time seems to slow down. I suck in air to steel myself, but it stops at the top of my chest. My breath is ragged and shallow. Blood drips from my lips, and I wipe my mouth with heavy movements.
Everything is so cold. My body weighs so much, making my knees buckle and give out. It’s a strange sensation; feeling both heavy and so light at the same time. Stumbling forward, I suddenly lose my balance. Luckily I manage to catch myself with my hands so I don’t faceplant on the ground. The snow cushions my fall a bit, but the impact still sends a shock through my body, and by the feel of it, my palms are as good as shredded. It doesn’t take long before my clothes are soaked, and soon my bones are frozen through.
When I open my eyes, the bright white has turned a dark, rich crimson. I feel sick. I always knew there were risks being involved in my line of work, but this isn’t how I imagined I’d go.
Every breath is laboured, every movement slow. My lungs convulse and drops of blood and spit flies everywhere. Some hit my cheek, and I recoil from the slap.
I try to push myself up again, but it’s no more than a feeble attempt, resulting in a silent groan and even deeper scrapes on my hands.
Thirty seconds pass at most, but it feels like an eternity. As I sit on my knees and hands, quiet stinging from the cold and the cuts on my knuckles mixes with the throbbing in my side. If only I could have one wish it would be to say goodbye.
There’s a whooshing of something in my ears, my vision is fading. A nothingness seeps in, cinching it to pinpricks in front of me. To my left I vaguely register movement, but I’m too far gone to really notice. I just want the pain to stop.
My vision goes completely, and shortly after so does my hearing, Gravity takes over, and my head hits the snow with a heavy thud.
There’s a commotion nearby. Or at least I think there is. I’m slipping in and out of consciousness as I’m bleeding out. It’s hard to get at firm grip on anything at all.
There is no light. No sounds. I’m wrapped in a cocoon, like I’m swaddled tightly in a warm blanket. Time is syrup. Everything is so hazy. I’m not sure where I am, or even who I am. Or if I am at all. Just let me drift off to sleep.
I’m jolted and shaken, and the amount of noise around me weighs me down; beeping and muffled rumbling and sounds I can’t place. People whispering. There’s a bird singing somewhere… I think. My ears are buzzing. I try to open my eyes, but the light is so bright it hurts. A soft whimper escapes me, but I can’t speak. The voices get louder, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. It doesn’t take long before darkness consumes me.
A flare of blazing, white light flashes in front of my eyes. My back arches as a sharp pain shoot through my body. The savage scream that erupts from my mouth lingers in my throat, scratching and itching, biting at my consciousness, but the waves I’m riding pull me under again, and I don’t have enough strength to fight them.
Somewhere above my head I hear a frantic “No, no, no…” followed by a quieter “Fix it. Please.” There’s pressure on my shoulders. It’s warm. Pleasant. My head rolls to the side, and it’s dark again.
Someone’s calling my name. The voice is far away, but through the cotton in my ears the urgency is clear. I cannot answer. I don’t know where it’s coming from.
My eyes are crusty when I try to open them. I blink, and blink again. The light is harsh and it does nothing good for the growing headache that throbs in my temples. The room is unfamiliar with its light green walls and – I squint – colourful, abstract paintings. The air smells sharp, a little bitter, but clean. It stings in my nose.
There is… an attempt to sit up, but I’m pinned down by wires and tubes and my own lack of strength. The failed attempt tugs on the needle in my hand. Jesus that hurts! “Fuck!” The word comes out as a coarse croak, setting off a coughing firework befitting an old man.
“Hey, hey, hey… relax.” Light touch on my forehead, and then Steve’s face comes into focus. He looks tired, drawn. But he’s smiling, so I try my best to smile too. My lip cracks. “You scared us. It looked pretty sketchy for a moment.” When he moves closer, he reveals another person standing behind his back. I have to strain my eyes to focus, but after a second I see Bucky, looking so worried I’m tempted to get up to comfort him.
I begin to speak, but that only starts another coughing fit.
“Don’t. You’ve been… out for a long time. Here.” Steve pours a glass of lukewarm water and holds it to my lips.
I drink greedily; I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so delicious. And it washes away the rawness in my throat. “Thank you.” It’s a mere whisper, but at least I can communicate.
Bucky moves to my other side. “You look like shit!” He laughs at my glare. “Really, though, it’s good to have you back, doll. If not, Steve might’ve gone on a rampage…” He chuckles, ducking to avoid Steve’s swat, and picks up the red button. “Let’s call the nurse, hm? Let them know you’re not dead?”
The nurse shoos them out of the room, but she has to use stern words before they reluctantly leave with promises that they’ll be back.
Feeling my forehead, she gives me a quick smile. “Right, honey. Let’s make sure you’re okay, alright?” She’s a kind woman with light hands, making the testing and prodding and questions almost bearable. She has to take my blood, she says, nodding towards my hands resting on top of the blanket. I lift my left arm, and she fastens a rubber band around it. The smell of the alcohol wipe sticks to my nose like a horse fly. The wet is cold, and when the needle punctures my skin, it’s almost as if I can hear a crisp pop.
I’m used to needles, have no problems with blood work, but when it’s time to change the bandage on my stomach, I squirm in my bed. It hurts, and now that I’m awake, I really just want to fix it myself.
“Listen,” she starts, using the same stern voice she did on the boys, “I apologise for being harsh, but you died! You’ve been cut open several times, your intestines had to be shoved back in and rearranged, your body is battered and bruised, and I’m amazed you didn’t have any broken bones. By all logic your skull should be cracked. You’re lucky all you got from the resuscitation were a few fractured ribs. We had to keep you in an induced coma for a week just to let your body rest.”
Coma? What? I look from her to the window, a deep furrow between my eyes.
She laughs, and continue dressing my wound. “It’s okay to be a bit dazed. You’ve been beat up pretty bad. But you’re gonna be as good as new when we’re done with you.”
The next few days goes by at a snail’s pace. Sure, I’ve got plenty of visitors. Nat and Clint, Wanda, even Director Fury swings by one time. Bucky is here most days. So is Steve. He doesn’t leave my side unless he’s told to by the staff. I’m eternally grateful that I don’t have to be alone all the time.
My room is filled with flowers and balloons and get well cards. But I hate being this helpless. Everything hurts; moving, breathing, sleeping… The nurses are doing their job, and it’s a fine job, but I want to go home. I want to sleep in a soft bed with warm covers, with a pair of pyjamas that leaves a bit more to the imagination than the flimsy gown they’ve dressed me in. I miss my TV, my music… I miss the freedom to do as I please. And I’m not afraid to tell the nurses exactly that.
“We’ll see,” is the only answer I get.
So my days are filled with physical therapy that leaves me sweaty and annoyed – damn, I hate that walker – chatting with whoever is there when I’m feeling up for it, and dozing when I get too tired. Night and day all kinda blend together. It’s difficult to keep track of time.
Whispers draws me out of my slumber.
“You’ve gotta tell her, Steve.”
“I know. But I can’t spring it on her like this. Let her recover first.”
“Fine. But tell her! Or I will!”
“Okay, okay! Shh… you’re waking her!”
I half wonder what that was all about, but I drift off before I can think to ask, and when I wake up again I can’t really tell dreams from reality, so I say nothing.
It’s been a week and a half since I woke up in the hospital bed, and I’m about to start climbing the walls. When Doctor Lloyd comes by on her daily visit I moan about staying again.
“About that,” she says with a bright smile, giving me hope. “I was thinking it’s about time you get some fresh air.”
“Yes!” I mutter under my breath. Finally! A grin creeps over my lips, and I’m half a second from swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
“However –“ She interrupts, stopping me with a look. Her face is serious, but kind. “You can’t be on your own. Not yet.” Her voice full of sympathy. “If I am to discharge you from our care, you need someone who can look after you at home.”
My face and heart falls. “But –“
“Listen. I’m going to be honest with you. You have been through four surgeries, and you have a very long, very tough road of recovery ahead of you. If you’re good, and follow my advice, you’re looking at at least twelve weeks before your body is back to relatively normal. And you need minimum two more weeks without any physical exertion at all. No housework, no lifting, no stretching. You will need help. With everything. Do you have anyone you can call?”
I grimace, fighting the sudden pressure behind my eyes. My head is filled with I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to! Of course. I live alone, and she knows it. But I can’t stand the thought of staying in the hospital for a moment longer. I discreetly rub a finger to the corner of my eye, concealing it as removing some gunk, but I know that if I’m not careful, everyone in this room will watch me ugly cry.
There’s beeping in her pocket. She fishes out a small device, nods and walks to the door. “When I return, I’m going to need an answer.”
“Fuck!” I groan loudly when the door clicks behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Steve and Bucky quickly get to their feet.
I glance over at them, blinking away the remaining tears before they can see. They retreated to the far corner to give me some privacy while the doctor talked. “I’m stuck here for the next… god knows how long.”
They cross the room. Steve frowns. “But I thought you were supposed to go home soon.”
“Yeah, so did I. Or… I hoped,” I reply with a sigh. “But they won’t release me unless I have someone who can take care of me while I recover.” I think for a bit, shoulders slumping forward. “My sister lives on the other side of the world, and she’s too busy with work and the kids. Besides, she’s already taking care of Mum. She can’t be on her own with the dementia and all. So she can’t just drop everything and fly out.” Not that I particularly want her to. We’re not that close. It would just be awkward.
“Oh.”
Bucky stares pointedly at Steve, nodding almost imperceptibly towards me, like he’s finishing an argument they’ve had before.
Steve clears his throat stiffly. “How about, uh, how about you come live with me while you recover?”
My stomach flips, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because of the injury. Looking away, I swallow hard. “I don’t want to burden you with that responsibility.”
“You could never be a burden.”
“But it’s twelve weeks. And I’m gonna be useless for at least two of them.” I’m not gonna lie. Staying with Steve sounds like an absolute dream right now. But chances are it would eat me up to be that close to him for so long.
“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Bucky and I were… discussing it earlier, since we figured you were going to need someone close by –“ He pauses. Rubs the back of his neck. “My apartment is big enough. Please, will you let me help you?”
Bucky smirks. “Yeah, please let him help you. Or else he might just go mad from the guilt.”
Guilt? Confused, I’m about to ask, but then I see Steve’s face, scrunched up like a puppy, mirroring Bucky’s, making me laugh. I shrink from the pain that follows. “Fine. You can help. Just don’t make me laugh.” I make a point of looking inconvenienced, but secretly, gratitude washes over me. If it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s Steve.
“Good. That’s settled. Thank you.” Steve steps out of the room to make some arrangements, leaving me pondering the guilt comment.
“Bucky?” I shift a bit in the bed to look him in the eyes.
“Yes?”
“What did you mean that he feels guilty?”
He looks down for a moment, a grimace flits across his features. “Well, to tell you the truth, we both feel guilty. We just left you, didn’t even check if you were okay –“ He grips the metal railing on the bed, and I can see his face tighten.
“You asked,” I reply, patting his hand. “And I said I were. No reason for you to think otherwise.” They should absolutely not feel guilty. And the way I’m floating with relief and joy from getting out, there is no way I’m letting them feel bad!
“Yeah, but we should have been with you. You died! You should’ve seen h…” He stops himself. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and you’re gonna be okay, and Steve is happy to take care of you.”
There it is again, a small flash of something. But what? Steve would be happy to… My chest tightens, it feels like I’m going to implode. Just as I’m about ask Bucky what that means, Steve comes back.
“Sorry about that,” he smiles, sliding his phone back in his pocket. “Had to make a few phone calls. Suppose you need some things from your own apartment. Natasha said she’d be more than happy to go over and pack a suitcase for you. And Fury needed to know where to find you should something happen.”
I look at him, bask in his happy smile. Oh yeah, I’m definitely gonna struggle for the next weeks. “You sure it’s okay?” I have to ask, have to know that it’s not just because I was upset or because of guilt.
Bucky and Steve react in unison. Arched eyebrows, annoyed smiles, and exhaling through their noses. “Yes.” And that’s the end of the discussion. Don’t think I’d be able to argue more even if I wanted to.
Three hours later I’m wheeled out of the front door and over to a waiting car. Bucky tosses a bag with the few possessions I had while admitted into the boot while Steve helps me into the back seat, making sure I’m comfortable before climbing in on the other side.
Bucky gives us a mock salute, then winks at me. “I’ll see ya later. And please wait a week before you kill him, won’t you?” He shuts the door, and heads over to his motorbike.
“Let’s go,” Steve laughs, shaking his head and gesturing to the driver. “Let’s go home.”
Steve insists on carrying me from the car, and though I protest, I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it quite a bit more than I should.
He sets me down on the kitchen counter and begins looking through the cupboards. “You hungry? Bet you want something other than hospital food. I haven’t been able to go shopping for a while, but there should be enough to fill you up for now. I’ll call in a few favours, so you don’t have to be alone, okay?”
I start swaying. My muscles aren’t strong enough to sit upright without support yet, but it’s fascinating to watch Steve being so natural in a domestic situation that I don’t say anything, just bite down the struggle. Until I almost wobble off the counter, and knock a small knife to the floor.
“Oh shit! I didn’t think… you shouldn’t be sitting without a back rest. You’re probably exhausted too.” It isn’t a question at all.
I wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. But I am tired. Maybe I should just take a teensy nap or something.” The sofa is looking very tempting right now.
“Of course. You sleep. I’ll make us something to eat and come wake you after it’s done.”
“You sure? I mean, I could help with –“
“No. No, you’re not helping me with anything,” he interrupts, dropping the bread so he can pick me up.
I feel like I don’t weigh a thing, floating through the air, securely enveloped by strong arms. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to feeling his arms around me, and I tuck it away in my mind to remember a rainy day. I almost forget to protest when he passes the sofa, but he just laughs. The rumble from his chest vibrates through me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stay appropriate.
He nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot and walks sideways through. When he lets go of me, I sink into the mattress. It feels like a cloud after the hospital bed. Steve glances around the room. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t have the time to do anything special in here. Just let me put away the clothes –“ He quickly scrunches up a couple of t-shirts and shoves them into a hamper in the corner.
“What, is this… Is this your room? But… where are you gonna – don’t tell me you’re gonna sleep on the sofa! Nope!” It’s out of the question to kick him out of his own bed, and I wriggle to get out of it again.
“Relax.” He looks at me and smiles sheepishly, lifting my leg up again and tucking the blanket tightly around me. “That isn’t my bed. Well, technically it is, but that’s besides the point. It’s not the one I sleep on. Never really gotten used to a normal, civilian mattress, so I usually sleep on a field cot… And I was thinking… So I can be close by in case you need anything, I’ll just sleep on that.” He points to the floor on the other side of the bed. Tucked into the other corner is a mattress, neatly done with folded sheets and everything.
I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head a little bit. “This is awfully well planned out, Captain, considering we made this deal just today. I didn’t even know I would be released until this morning…” I try to sound tough and serious, but I can’t quite hide the twinkle in my voice. Trust Steve to have a plan. Even for this.
He actually blushes, and looks away as he answers. “Uh, well, you see… Bucky – and I – thought it might come to something like this, so I got it a couple of days ago. Besides, I’ve been meaning to get a proper bed for ages. And now I had a good reason.”
“You’re a couple of sneaks, the both of you,” I grin. My chest leaps with the thought of him going through all that hassle just in case I needed a place to stay. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says gruffly. He clicks off the light and glances over his shoulder. “I’ll leave it ajar so I hear you if you need anything.”
I haven’t slept this well in… forever, I think. The bed is perfect, and there’s just something about the room; the light coming from under the door, the scent, whatever it is, that makes me feel safe.
Steve wakes me a little while later, a tray in hand. “Figured you wanted to be comfortable while eating. And when you’re done, you can sleep a bit more. It’ll be good for you.”
It’s dark when I wake up again. My head hurts, and my mouth is bone dry. A glass of water. That’s what I need. The kitchen isn’t that far, so I roll over on my side and slide my feet to the floor. But I can’t seem to get my abs to follow instructions. Instead I sorta hang over the edge like a slug, unable to get up or down. “Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter, wriggling to get into a better position. But the more I try, the more I twist, and the strain stabs and stings my side.
“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice is groggy with sleep. He sits up so I can see his head over the edge of the bed. Even upside down it looks confused.
“I just wanted to get a glass of water.”
“And you decided that you’d do that yourself. On the first night out of hospital, despite the doctor’s orders to not do anything physical at all?”
I give him my best puppy eyes. “Yes?”
“What am I going to do with you?” he sighs, helping me back under the covers. After propping me up with pillows and checking on my side to make sure nothing is ripped, he fetches a glass of water. When he comes back, he gives me an exasperated smirk. “Next time, just wake me, okay?”
My stomach drops when I see how tired he looks. “I’m sorry,” I start, feeling like this whole situation could have been avoided if only I had paid more attention.
He cuts me off. “Don’t. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”
“Sor–“
He shuts me up with a finger on my lips and a soft shh. “Go back to sleep. You need the rest.”
***
“I think I’ll manage from here,” I say when I’m safely down on the little chair in front of the sink. We decided on using the office chair, since that can spin, and it has wheels, so it’s easier for me to access what I need around the bathroom. Steve has already brought me washcloths, towels and soap, and I’ll spare him the horror of giving me a sponge bath, since I’m not ready for a shower just yet.
“If you’re sure,” he replies. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he adds when he closes the door.
Washing away the hospital smell that sticks to my face feels amazing. The water is warm, and the cloth is soft. I sigh with contentment as I let it linger over my eyes.
I pat my face dry and move on to get out of the sweater I’m wearing. Ow! Each time I try to lift my arms and pull it over my head, my stitches sting. After three attempts and lots of quiet swearing, I’m stuck. “Um, Steve?” I call, trying to sound calm, but the burn in my side is concerning. “A little help, please?”
From my limited vision through the fabric I see his head in the mirror, poking through the door, looking increasingly worried, but with a crooked smile on his lips. “Jeez. How did you do that. Here.” He averts his eyes like the perfect gentleman he is when he frees me from my sweater, but he tuts at my stupidity and refusal to do as the doctor instructed.
I hesitate for a second. “Um... think you can help me unhook my bra too?”
With minimal fumbling, he does as I ask, and before I can say anything else, he wrings a wet cloth and starts washing my back for me. I can’t do anything but close my eyes and breathe as he quietly fusses over my cuts and bruises, before leaving alone to finish cleaning myself. When he returns ten minutes later, I’ve turned into a towel burrito.
“I figured you needed something to wear, and the clothes Natasha packed didn’t look very comfortable.” He looks down on his hands and then back at me; he’s holding an oversized zipper hoodie and sweatpants.
“Thanks. Those will do.” The fabric is soft, like feathers against my skin. “I’ll be right out.”
“Good,” he replies and leaves me alone again.
A couple of minutes and a good deal of fumbling later, I’ve managed to get into the sweater. Sure, it took time, and sure it was a bit painful, but over all I’m happy with my effort. But it’s another situation altogether with the sweatpants. I just can’t lift my feet high enough to step into them while holding them, and when I drop them to the floor, I can step into them, but I can’t bend down to pull them up. Shit.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I call for Steve again. “Help?” I squeak, gesturing to the grey bundle on the floor, ignoring the rising heat on my neck. I hadn’t thought of this; that I actually need help getting dressed. For some reason I’m not that embarrassed, really, more disappointed that I have to be that kind of a burden. If we’re going to make this work, I can’t let my pride get in the way.
“Oh.” He watches me intently from the doorway.
“Yeah.” I give him a flat smile. “I think I can get out of my clothes on my own. At least mostly,” I add when I notice the arched eyebrow and crooked smile on his face. “The zipper hoodie works, so that’s good. But… this movement,” I mime pulling up the sweatpants, “hurts. I can’t bend properly, so…”
“It’s what I’m here for,” he says, before quickly adding “to help.” He kneels in front of me and guides first one, then the other foot into the sweatpants, while I hang onto his shoulders for dear life, and he looks away while pulling them up. Only when they’re safely tied and hanging, do I drop the towel.
I want to thank him, but no sounds come when I open my mouth. So I settle on a smile and a nod, though that is wildly insufficient.
“Sit,” he orders, but his voice is mild, and once I’m down again, he turns the chair around so my back is towards the sink.
You would think that Steve has done all this before. He knows precisely what he needs to do, and he’s the gentlest being on the earth in this moment, tenderly lowering my head into the sink and making sure I’m comfortable and that the chair doesn’t roll away, all while silently asking me if it’s okay.
“Mhm.” I close my eyes, savouring the sensation of warm, running water over my scalp. Then he begins to massage, and I melt into the chair. An obscene noise rises in my throat, but I swallow thickly, settling for a quiet hum instead. I can get used to this.
The last of the hospital sweat swirls down the drain, replaced by the clean smell of shampoo. That it’s Steve doing it is just icing on the cake. Now, if just that stupid sting in my side could disappear too, my life would be perfect.
With my hair wrapped in a new towel, he picks me up and carries me to the living room. I’m pretty sure I could walk if I wanted, but what’s life without a little exploitation of the situation?
It quickly becomes a routine, him helping me with the things I can’t do, carrying me from room to room. Picking stuff up from the floor when I drop it, making food when I’m hungry… And my heart swells for every kind gesture. I feel like I’m about to explode.
My strength and pain fluctuate over the weeks. Some days I’m ready to take on the world, and Steve has to remind me that I still have a long way to go, others I can hardly get out of bed, but my recovery is definitely moving forward. Before long I can even sit up without support for more than a couple of minutes at a time.
***
The tape tugs on my skin, and I’m glad I only have to change the bandage every other day. I hiss as I pull on it, but I just can’t get myself to rip it off quickly today. Taking a deep breath, I change my grip and try again, but no luck.
“You decent?” Steve’s voice floats through the door, and moments later, his head pops in.
“Yeah,” I answer, not even looking up to see that he’s already in the room.
He gently pushes my hands out of the way. “Let me,” he says, soothing over the red skin where I’ve already managed to remove the tape. His eyes lock with mine, and he gives me a quick smile. “I’ll count to three, then pull, okay?”
I nod and breathe in, then out again.
“One, two –“ He pulls.
I let out a loud yelp. “Oh, you fucker!”
“There you go. Good girl.”
My mind blanks. Did he really…? I hold my breath for a few seconds in fear of making some sound I’ll regret later. Through my haze I barely recognise that the new bandage is already on, and he’s pulling down my sweater. Just before he lets go, his fingers lightly brush over my skin, making my heart flutter like a hummingbird. I’m gonna need a month to recover after this.
He moves to pick me up again, but I want to do it myself. No, I need to do it myself. “I can walk.” I think. My legs suddenly feel so very weak, and when I try to get up, I just can’t.
Instead of commenting, he offers his arm, and practically pulls me to my feet while supporting my back. He’s right there when I take the first, unsteady steps on my own since the fight. I both miss the walker I had in the hospital and don’t, but I know that if I need to, I can always grab onto Steve. Or in the worst case, he’ll lift me up and carry me into the living room.
“So. What do you want to do today?” he asks as we slowly make our way towards the sofa.
“I don’t know. Not much I can do.” I’m not used to sitting still. “How about we just watch TV for now – well, I can watch, if you have other things you want to do.” Please stay with me.
“No, that sounds good.” He brings out a small notebook and a pen. “I have a lot of catching up to do. What do you wanna watch?”
Later that evening, Bucky comes traipsing in with his hands so full of bags that they’re stacked all the way to his elbows. “Food delivery,” he announces loudly, dropping the bags on the floor for Steve to put away. “How’s my favourite patient?” he grins, turning to me.
“Can’t complain. Steve’s being an angel nurse.”
“Good, good.” He’s already on his way out again. “I slipped in a chocolate for you in case you can’t take it anymore,” he adds, pointing to Steve with an exaggerated grimace.
“Thanks. You’re not staying?”
“Nah. Got a mission coming up. And Steve, remember: I’m not your personal DoorDasher.”
Steve laughs and follows him to the door. They remain standing, talking for a bit – whispering so I can’t hear them, but there’s an urgency to underneath their voices. I wonder if Steve was supposed to go on this mission too. A pang of guilt punches me in the gut. Bucky better come back in one piece.
“Be safe,” I say, swallowing hard.
“Don’t worry about me,” he replies and closes the door behind him. Steve busies himself with the groceries.
“What kind of mission?” I ask when he finally sits down again.
“Huh?”
I frown. “Bucky. What was the mission?”
“Oh, didn’t ask. Sorry.”
Despite being so curious that I’m about to burst, I don’t ask again. I’m not privy to all communication between SHIELD and their agents.
***
Steve is gone. He’s been gone for a couple of hours. Think he had to run to the store or something, but I couldn’t go with him. Which is okay, I guess. So I’m lying on the sofa, tapping my fingers, trying to count to 500 backwards. It’s something to do, to keep the boredom at bay. Every day feels like the days I stayed with my grandparents when I was little. You know; constantly a little bored, because you don’t have access to all your toys? But also excited, because you’re on holiday and it’s kinda new and regular routines don’t apply? Quiet days passing slowly, but pleasantly. There’s a kind sort of nostalgia to the whole thing.
Here I don’t have my books or stuff, and though I can always go get some, it’s not the same, because there’s nothing like that feeling of just browsing, picking up the one that piques your interest at that moment… I do have my music, though. It’s on my phone, and that is wonderful. But I miss my record player, and listening to digital music through headphones doesn’t quite give the same experience. On the other hand: I get to spend every day with Steve, and now that I don’t fall asleep from exhaustion every hour, I can actually enjoy it.
When Steve comes back, carrying bags and looking so deliciously domestic that I can’t do anything but sink into the sofa to hide my reaction, I breathe a sigh of relief. Weirdly enough, being alone has started to make me uneasy.
“Welcome home,” I splutter, trying to conceal the sound as a yawn. Outside the sun is setting, sending long, peachy rays that spreads over the walls. If I’m lucky, the colour in my face can be explained away. Not sure he’s fooled.
He gives me a wide smile and brings me a bottle of soda. “Thanks. What do you say we order dinner today? I couldn’t decide what I wanted when I was at the shop, so I just picked something. And now I don’t really feel like making lasagna at all.”
“I’m always up for takeaway. Did you have anything in mind?”
“How about…” he thinks for a bit. “Thai? Form that restaurant down by the square?”
“Absolutely!” He asked me one of the first days what my favourite food was, and I just said the first thing that popped into my head, being too preoccupied with the sight of his shirt straining over his shoulders, but it’s sweet of him to remember. And I do really like Thai food, so it’s a win-win.
Two hours later we’re both full, content, and comfortably seated in the sofa. We’ve made it a habit for me to lie with my head in his lap. That way I can rest, and I don’t have to twist or move in case I get tired. If this is the only good thing that comes from this situation, I will be happy.
He absentmindedly strokes my hair, watching the clouds floating by outside the window. “You wanna watch a movie today?”
“Sure.” I’d go to the end of the world with him if he asked me. I’m not ashamed to admit it. “What do you want to watch?”
“So, I’ve been meaning to… You know I’ve got my list – gotta try to update myself – ”
“Get with the times,” I offer with a smirk, looking up into his face.
“So to speak. There’s a lot of things I missed, you know, when… anyways, I thought maybe we could watch Fellowship of the Ring? I’ve heard a lot of good things about it, and it’s been on my list for a while, ‘cause I really liked the books.”
“I’d love to. It’s one of my favourites.” The prospect of watching Lord of the Rings with Steve makes me warm and fuzzy.
Somewhere around Weathertop my head starts feeling heavier, and before Arwen has breathed out “What’s this, a ranger caught off his guard?” sleep overtakes me.
It’s dark outside when I wake up. The light from the tv screen is too bright, illuminating Steve’s peaceful face when I look up. He’s deeply entrenched in what I recognise as scenes from Helm’s Deep, a serene smile on his face. His hand rests on my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I feel an intense urge to reach up and kiss him, but I don’t. Instead, I hum and stretch and rub my eyes.
He looks down. “Hey.” It’s merely a breath. “I didn’t want to wake you up, you looked so comfortable.”
You have no idea. “How many orcs has Gimli killed yet?” I want to tell him, I should tell him. But I don’t know how. And definitely not now. Not when I’m like this. I don’t want to come across as a smitten patient who has a crush on her carer. Not when this is so much more. Damn! I’m in too deep. This is going to be torture!
Steve chuckles and glances up at the tv again. “Seventeen?”
There is something in his eyes, I can’t decipher it, and instead of trying, I shift my attention back to the film, muttering “Hado i philinn,” simultaneously with Aragorn, and lose myself in Middle Earth for a couple of hours.
***
The brush glides through my hair, followed by a gentle hand. Careful movements, every one calculated to do the least amount of damage. It’s a secret dance that we’ve been rehearsing for the last couple of weeks, and I’m sad to see it end.
On the surface, my wound has healed. I can move a lot easier, stretch my torso, twist around. Yes, I still get tired quickly, and I still can’t stand for long amounts of time, but it’s time I take over my own bedtime routine.
I close my eyes, savour his touch, his fingers in my hair… It’s more than I had ever dreamt of. As I exhale, a tiny whimper follows. Steve stops immediately. Oh no!
He lets go and lean down to get a look at my face. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too rough?”
Shit. How do I explain away this one? I can’t. I shake my head and take a deep breath. Inside me every emotion swirls together like a tempest. “No, Steve. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you do everything right. The thing is…” I pause, watching his face fall.
“Oh.” He gets to his feet and starts to walk away, still with the brush in his hand. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Not thinking, I reach for his hand. I try to pull him back, but I’m not strong enough yet. The movement shoots daggers through my stomach, but it’s easy to ignore it. “Wait.” The word is small and weak, but important. “Let me finish, please.” Then you can leave, if you need to, I add in my head.
He turns back, watching me with wary eyes.
I weigh my words. If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do this right. “The thing is…” I repeat, then clam up again. Come on! You can do this! I clear my throat. “Steve… I love you.”
His jaw drops, as does the hairbrush. It clatters to the floor, but I don’t think he notices. Blinking stupidly, he just stands there like an idiot. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d laugh.
“I have for a long time,” I continue quickly, afraid I’m gonna lose my momentum. “But I was afraid to say something, because I don’t want you to think I’m crushing because you’re kind to me and take care of me, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, or the team. I didn’t want to make it awkward, but now that I’ve spent so long with you, I just forgot for a moment, that I’m supposed to be normal, that we’re not…” I trail off, want to finish with together, but I can’t bring myself to it. Is he reacting? His face tells me nothing. Crap. I’ve fucked it up. “Steve, say something? Please?”
He shakes his head. “Uh. Sorry. I just… I’m…” A gentle smile. “I was going insane, trying to figure out how to tell you – how you make me feel. That I haven’t felt like this since I don’t remember when… And then you beat me to it. I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”
“Uh-huh.” This time it’s my turn to blink stupidly, but it takes me less time to recover. “Yes. Please!”
I stretch up to meet him halfway, ignoring the doctor’s orders, and throw my arms around him. The distance between us closes and we pause, just for a moment, to drink in the sensation. Both of us smile into the kiss as we melt together, electricity sparking between us, leaping over the skin, tingling in the hottest, darkest depths of our minds.
When he finally draws back, my breath is heavy. I’m not quite sure where I am, but I’m definitely not complaining. Instead, I pull him back to me, and he follows, hungrily, to kiss me again.
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Public Transport
Authors note: I don't know how I even came up with this.... In a lot of pain right now, so I made this to cope with the pain
Summary: After being called 'a Mandalorian no more', you try to help your Mandalorian on the public transport starliner.
Warnings: The obligatory English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader honestly kind of fluffy-it's domestic stuff, real cute
Word count: 4.2k
You could tell that Din was hurt. The Armorer has deemed him 'a Mandalorian no more'. And all because two years ago he took off his helmet in front of you and Grogu. And now, two years later, he just got you back, but lost his people. Not to mention that the Razor Crest was at Peli's in pieces. You walk around the city, headed for the public transport starliner. You are headed to Tatooine to see how Peli is doing with fixing the Razor Crest. You and Din have barely spoken since he told you what happened with the Armorer. You don't want to push him to speak. You have Grogu in his wrap on your chest as you walk towards the public transport ship. Something starts beeping as Din walks up.
"You are going to have to remove your weapons"A protocol droid told Din
"I'm a Mandalorian, weapons are a part of my religion"Din said clearly annoyed. After some back and forth with the Droid, Din reluctantly put all of his weapons in a box, including the controversial darksaber.
You sit in the public transport starliner, a family of Rodians in front of you. You look at Din. He's still hurt by what the Armorer said. You don't pressure him. Instead, you look around in awe. You've never been on a public transport ship.
The journey from Coruscant to Tatooine is a peaceful one, and although you try to be considerate towards your wounded companion, he can see the curious spark behind your eyes. As you take in the surroundings, he looks over at you, the mask hiding his emotions, but his eyes showing a little surprise. “You’ve never ridden a starliner?”
"No. It's so big. And there's so many people!"You say, your eyes looking around like little kids. Your enthusiasm is endearing, so Din leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Well, a little hint from a veteran. If you don’t want anyone sitting next to you, just cough a few times, really loudly, and watch the entire area clear out.”
"Yes because people haven't been avoiding sitting next to us because of your Armor"You say with a slight smile. The hint of humour sends a smile across Din’s face, a subtle reminder that this Mandalorian knows how to loosen up, even just a little bit. He looks over at you. “This is still all so new to you, isn’t it?”
You nod as you see a droid come up next to you
"What would you like to eat?''The droid said. Grogu's ears perked up at the sound of food. You look at Din. Your expression is half confused and half excited...
“What do you think, little one?” Din asks Grogu, who starts nodding his head enthusiastically. “Two orders of fried bantha nuggets, two slices of bantha bacon, and 4 blue milks, please,” the Mandalorian says. The droid gives you the food. Grogu stares at it, eyes wide and full of excitement. The droid continues on to the next customers. You take Grogu out of his wrap and get him situated to eat
"Do you pay more for the food?"You ask Din, not knowing the answer. Din watches you as you set Grogu up to eat, smiling slightly as he watches you interact with his little companion. He glances back down at his food before replying to your question. “It’s all included, if that’s what you mean. They give us all a meal with our tickets.
"Really?!"You say. You put the plate in front of Grogu, making sure to only put bite sized regulated portions in front of him. You swear this baby would eat a live Bantha if it could. Grogu looks up at the plate of food with a wide smile, eyes shining, just waiting to get his little hands on that bantha bacon. Din reaches out a hand, grabbing one of the nuggets and bringing it down to Grogu, where he holds it out to him, watching in amusement as the little one leans in and takes a big bite out of the piece of fried meat.
"Can I eat it too?"You ask.
Din smiles as he sets some fried bantha nuggets in front of you on your plate. “Here you go. But be careful, it’s hot,” he says, keeping a close eye on Grogu, whose mouth is full of hot, crunchy goodness. Grogu and you eat in silence. You make sure that Grogu doesn't spill or eat too fast. Grogu doesn't like the fact that you're not letting him eat everything in one go, but he doesn't complain as he sees that he's still getting the food. Din just looks at you, not saying anything. Before you know it, your plates are clean, and Din is gathering up your empty dishes. The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, Grogu looking up at you with that same smile as before. He reaches up to your face, grabbing one of your cheeks. “Grogu,” he says, trying to get your attention.
Grogu looks at Din.
Din doesn't like that he has to be the 'bad cop' parent, whilst you get to be the 'caring' parent. But Din doesn't know how much Grogu actually loves him and looks up to him. Grogu looks at Din, wondering what his father doesn't like now. Grogu gives Din a look that says 'why can't I poke my mother?'.
As Grogu keeps poking at your face, Din leans in and places his hand on top of the little one’s head, moving him away from you. Grogu makes a noise of disapproval, and Din turns to you to offer some sort of explanation. “We don’t touch people without their permission, little one,” the Mandalorian says, now sounding a lot more serious than before. Grogu makes a noise that seems to mean something along the lines of, 'But it’s my mother!'
Grogu looks at you, trying to get you to side with him. As you're giving the empty plates to the droid, you turn back to Grogu, knowing exactly what he meant
"Grogu, listen to your father."You tell your little green monster
Grogu makes his disapproval known with a loud pout as he leans against you, holding onto you while he sticks his tongue out in Din’s direction. Din gives his little charge a stern glare, making it clear to the little one that he will not be swayed.
"Grogu...''You warn. Now, Din is always scolding him. For his own good of course. But Grogu knows that if you scold him, then he has to listen. You don't do it often, you're more willing to let the little womp rat do what he wants as long as he's not hurting himself. Grogu backs down, giving his father an apologetic look. Then he looks at you as if to ask if he can poke you.
"Yes, you can poke me. Thank you for asking"You tell him, following the parenting strategy his father is trying to use. Grogu smiles softly and pokes at one of your cheeks with a giggle. Din glances over at you, trying not to let the small smile reach his face. He knows you have a soft spot for the little one, and is impressed by the way you’re being more strict about his behaviour. When he’s about to look away, you catch him looking at you, and although he tries to hide it, there’s a slight red tint to his cheeks.
"Are you okay?"You ask him. You know he's hurt by the leader of his people calling him 'a Mandalorian no more'. You can see it hurts him. You want to make sure he's okay. And if he's not, you want to be there for him.
“I’m fine,” Din says, keeping his voice steady, although some hesitation can be heard in his words. There is little question that the decision made by the Armorer has hurt the Mandalorian, despite his claims to the contrary. He glances over at you and Grogu, before looking back out of the window, trying to find any distraction for himself in the outside world. You put your free hand, the one not holding Grogu, on his hand. You say nothing. It's just to reassure him. To say: I'm here for you. To say: You are no less of a Mandalorian to me. The touch of your hand feels both tender and familiar. With Grogu on your other side, Din can feel himself surrounded by the two most important people in his life, and it makes his heart beat a little faster. He takes off the glove of that hand and holds your hand. He doesn't do more. He goes back to looking out the window. You decide not to push further. You let him have a bit of space. He needs it.
His hand feels comforting in yours, warm and yet rough from the hard work he puts into his weapons and armour. It’s not your first time holding his hand, but the warmth of it seems much more noticeable to you. Din still hasn’t looked back your way, letting silence stretch out between the two of you. We sit in silence for a while. It wasn't tense or awkward. Suddenly, a little kid from the Rodian family in front of us turns around. He waves at Din. Din looks at the kid, and then turns back to the window. Grogu waves at the kid, clearly wanting to make friends. You smile at the kid too
Din is visibly tensing up as the Rodian family’s child tries interacting with him. His grip on your hand tightens, and it feels like there’s a lot more pressure now. He’d rather not interact with strangers, but he doesn’t want to seem rude either. As Grogu sees the Rodian child waving at him, he starts to bounce up and down a little, trying to get the Mandalorian’s attention.
"Excuse me?"The Rodian mother turns to ask us
"Yes?"You answer. You want to allow Din to keep in his thoughts, so you shall leave him to himself and deal with the friendly family by yourself. Grogu looks over at the Rodian boy with an expression of excitement and anticipation, clearly wanting to meet him and get the chance to make friends. When the boy’s mother asks something of you, you can feel Din tighten his grip on your hand just a little bit.
“Is it alright if our son goes over to yours and says hello?” the Rodian woman asks.
"Oh uh... Sure. As long as he's gentle."You say. You see the little Rodian boy get out of his seat and come to our side. Grogu moves to play with the little Rodian. Thankfully, the Rodian boy is gentle and doesn't seem to cause problems. Grogu is absolutely filled with excitement as he gets the chance to meet a new friend. Din watches as the two of them move over to each other, Grogu using the few words of Rodian he still remembers to try and communicate with his new friend, while the Rodian boy is amazed by the little creature standing in front of him.
“Your little one is adorable,” the Rodian mother says with a smile, trying to compliment you and your son.
"Oh thank you! What's uh your son's name?"I ask the Rodian mother politely
“His name is Rodo,” the Rodion woman replies proudly, looking down at her little son and smiling, a mixture of pride and love clear in her eyes. Grogu is trying his best to communicate with the little Rodian boy, but isn’t able to put his words together in a way that allows them to communicate the best they could. Nevertheless, he still seems overjoyed at the chance to make a friend.
"Oh"You turn to the little boy "hi Rodo. Thank you for being gentle with my little one" You say to the Rodian boy
Rodo smiles up at you, and Grogu leans in to hug the little boy, who hugs back and smiles. Din stays quiet in the background, his mind a mystery to you at this moment. You glance back to check on him, but he still seems withdrawn, not wanting to get involved with all the socialising. The Rodian mother calls her child back to her. Rodo and Grogu wave at each other, big smiles on both the boys faces
"Thank you for letting him say hi. He was so interested in you little one"The Rodian mother said. Then she glanced back at Din
"Oh no problem. He's very well behaved"You compliment the mothers parenting
The Rodian mother thanks you for your kind words, and although Grogu doesn’t fully understand what’s being said, that doesn’t stop him from smiling widely when you and Rodo wave at each other. Grogu looks up at you with such a happy and innocent expression, and you know that no matter how tough things might seem, you’re always going to have love in your life. Din looks away, avoiding you, but you’re more than used to seeing his closed off side. He seems a little more relaxed, but still not very talkative.bThe Rodian mother seems to want to engage in conversation with you. You don't mind as long as they don't bother Din. Maybe it's just two parents chatting?
The Rodian woman seems to be a naturally talkative person. The type who just enjoys communicating with others. She starts asking you questions about your home and about Grogu, with your answers filling the silent air between you two. Din sits quietly in the background, looking out of the window and avoiding the conversation.
“And I don’t mean to be too nosy,” the Rodian woman says, “But why are you two travelling alone? Why isn’t your husband here?”
"Oh uh I'm not travelling alone"You tell her.
You don't have a husband, but... You guess the closest thing to that is Din. The Rodian woman gives you a funny look, but you decide not to mention the fact that you aren’t actually married to the man sitting in the corner. “Well, where is he then?” she asks, with a slight confusion in her tone.
Din seems annoyed by her line of questioning, and you are almost able to feel that tension in him as he turns to look out of the window, trying to distance himself from the conversation.
You subtly point to Din, trying not to loop him into the conversation. The Rodian mother looks at the Mandalorian, whose eyes are still glued to the view out of the window. He doesn’t say anything, and his body language makes it clear that he doesn’t want to join the conversation. “Him?” The woman asks, giving a confused look.
"Uh yeah" You say hoping she won't ask too many questions
“Ah. And is he your husband?” The Rodian mother asks.
"Yes"You say not having time to explain the complicated unlabeled relationships between your 'family' members.
“Huh” the woman looks at Din strangely, pointing to him as he's still looking away from the conversation, clearly not interested in engaging. “Oh, alright then,” the Rodian woman says, deciding to move on to the topic at hand. She looks at the little Rodian boy, whose eyes are filled with admiration as he looks at Grogu. “So, your little one here,” the Rodian woman says, referring to your own son, “How old is he?” She asks.
"Uh... Two"
Technically 52. But you can't say that. Mentally you guess Grogu is two...
“Ah. And how come he’s so small for his age?” the Rodian woman asks, clearly not entirely aware of the more bizarre aspects to Grogu’s aging. All she’s going off of is what it looks like from the outside. You know that Grogu is much more than two years old, and his size is a direct reflection of his species and their biology.
"He's a... Different species. They are smaller"
The Rodian woman seems to accept your reasoning as she nods again. “Well, he’s adorable,” she says, her tone filled with a bit of amusement. She looks over toward Grogu, who is trying to communicate something to Rodo, with the two of them clearly having trouble getting their point across to each other.
"Thank you"The Rodian family turns around after that and continues their conversation in their language. You run to Din, noticing that he kept his hand gloveless.
You take his hand again and don't say anything. You just rub the back of his hand in reassurance
With Grogu safely in your care, you have a moment alone with Din. As soon as you rub your hands against his, he glances over at you and gives you a smile, clearly appreciating the gesture. He shifts his hand to rest on top of yours, his fingers gently holding your hand in place. While his expression remains stern, there’s something about that small moment between the two of you that feels almost intimate.
"How are you doing?"You whisper to your 'husband'
"I'm fine." His voice sounds tired, and he looks away from you to avoid eye contact, but something about the way he holds onto your hand reveals a vulnerability in his expression. You can tell that he's not in the best of moods, but he doesn't seem to want to talk about it in detail.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Din says without hesitation. His grip on your hand tightens a little bit, and he seems more than a little bit tense. "It's nothing."
"Okay. I won't force you. I just... I want you to know that this doesn't change anything, to me at least. You're still my Mandalorian. You always will be."You tell him quietly. Din doesn't look back to you, but you can tell that he heard what you had to say just by the brief, subtle softening of his expression. He's always valued your feelings, and hearing you voice support for and reassurance for him is always something that makes him feel better.
"Thanks." His voice is soft, and it seems like he genuinely appreciates the kind words you just told him.
You keep gently rubbing his hand, not trying to pressure him into talking more. You rather just let him know that you still love him. You play with Grogu a bit, as well as let him jump over to play with the Rodian boy again. Din doesn't seem to mind the things around him, but every time you let go of his hand for a second to help Grogu, he almost grabs your hand again. It's his quiet way of saying 'don't leave me'. And you won't. You take his hand again each time. Din’s grip on your hand seems to be somewhat of a reflex at this point, his body automatically reaching out for you every time it doesn’t feel your presence there. He seems relaxed as you play with Grogu and the Rodian boy, though he doesn’t join in on the play despite you trying to include him. He’s always been a bit antisocial, even when it comes to playing, and he’d much rather see you and Grogu happy than worry about him.
After a few hours, you are about half way on your journey. You need to take Grogu to the bathroom
"Is there a bathroom here? I need to change Grogu."You ask Din. You're not sure if public transport starliners have bathrooms, it is your first time on one.
“Yeah, there’s a bathroom by the back,” he says, pointing to the back wall.
"Okay, I'm going to go with Grogu, we'll be back in a few minutes"You tell him. You let go of his hand and take Grogu to the bathrooms. Suddenly the Rodian boy turns back. He waves at Din, but Din barely acknowledged it
"Excuse me sir?"The Rodian told Din
Din looks over at the Rodian child, whose smile turns to confusion when he sees the Mandalorian looking at him with an annoyed expression on.
"Uh... yeah?" Din asks, clearly not wanting to talk to the little boy. The boy seems a little hesitant to interact with Din. "Your wife is so pretty!" Rodo said with a giggle
Din could tell that the young Rodian waited for you and Grogu to leave, probably too scared to say it in front of a pretty woman.
Din's face softens as the boy mentions you, and he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Thanks," he says to the young Rodian, although there feels like a bit of hesitation in his voice. The Rodian boy seems a bit surprised that the Mandalorian isn't angry at his compliment, but he seems thankful for the more positive reaction. The Rodian boy turns back to his seat, and then silence hits again. With the Rodian boy safely back in his seat and far away from him, Din sighs, finally calming down a bit. He looks over to you and Grogu, who seem to be having fun together by the bathroom. A small smile crosses his face, and as you both walk back to the seat, his hand comes out to take yours again.
Grogu waves at his dad from across the aisle.
With Grogu out of the bathroom, and Rodo safely back in his seat, Din finally settles back down, and his body seems to relax again, though not fully. He leans his head against the headrest and closes his eyes, seemingly wanting to take a break from everything for a while. You and Grogu sit back down and Grogu gives you a look.
"Ask your dad if it's okay."You tell the little one
Grogu pulls at his dad's arm, clearly wanting something. Din opens one of his eyes to look at Grogu, trying to see what the little boy wants. Grogu is clearly trying to get Din’s attention, and he seems like he wants something. Din looks at you, wondering what you think he could want, a little bit of trepidation in his expression.
"He wants to give you a hug, but I remember you are strict on teaching him to ask permission before touching."
Din nods, his stern expression softening for just a moment. He looks at Grogu, then slowly nods again.
“Sure,” he sighs, “He can come over here.”
Grogu smiles, looking a little happier at getting his father’s approval. He gets up from his seat and runs over to Din, holding his arms out as he wants a hug. You look at your boys for a moment.... Din taking Grogu and letting the little womp rat hug him
Grogu pulls away and then goes back to you. Uou look at Din, a smile on your face. Din finally relaxes, his expression returning to normal. He leans back into his seat, sighing, and you wonder what’s on his mind. He looks over at Grogu, who is hugging you and rubbing against you, clearly wanting his father to pay attention to him. Grogu reaches his free hand over to Din, wanting to also interact with him. Din looks at Grogu’s small and adorable hand for a moment, then he reaches out his hand to gently caress Grogu’s cheek.
"I'll try to follow your parenting techniques. I promise"You tell Din
Din looks over at you, his expression revealing just how appreciative he is of your willingness to follow his parenting techniques and ideals.
“Thanks,” he says, his soft voice sounding much less stern, and his eyes having a slightly softer look to them, “I know you’ll do great.” You see Din's hand move away from Grogu and then grab your hand again. He puts it back on the armrest, holding your free hand. You don't complain, in fact you continue rubbing the back of his hand.
"He's so cute when he sleeps''You quietly comment a little later on, as the green baby sleeps on your lap. Din looks over at Grogu, feeling his chest warm as he sees the little boy sleeping peacefully against you. “He is.” His voice sounds a little softer, and he stares at Grogu for a moment before looking back at you. “He’s cute most of the time.” His voice has a little bit of a teasing tone to it, which causes Grogu to shift and open one of his eyes.
"Hey, don't let him fool you too. One of us has to be able to resist his cuteness, or we'll spoil him too much...." Din laughs, looking back at you. You see Grogu look over to you with an adorable smile on his face, and he lets out a cute little laugh.
“Yeah, I think it’s a little too late to resist his cuteness.” Din looks over at you and smiles softly. “You’re right, though. He’s a little cutie, but he’s also very misbehaved. Spoiling him will definitely not end well for any of us.”
"You're better in that department. You're the strict parent. I'm too much of a softie...."
“But you’re also his mother. Grogu needs and loves your affection and love, just as much as he does mine.” Din glances over at Grogu again, and Grogu’s look changes as he reaches a hand up and touches Din's chin.
“He knows he can be cute and get himself out of trouble,” Din says with a small smirk. “But he really can’t resist a hug from you.”
"I love him so much"
“I know,” Din says, giving you a genuine, soft smile. “I do too… And I love you…”
#din djarin#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fanfiction#the book of boba fett
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Intro!
Hi I’m Finch, I was formerly using a different account but after a long hiatus figured it was time for a fresh start due to feeling stressed and overwhelmed and not posting for a while.
I tend to write whump prompts, although want to start creating my own stories more regularly
I’ll be trying to post more regularly but due to my mental health issues I may not be posting that often, also obligatory English isn’t my first language so if y’all see any mistakes in my writing feel free to correct me and I’ll try to improve in the future.
Feel free to send me prompts, asks and comments, I’ll gladly respond to whatever
(This blog will likely NSFW elements, please read the tags.)
Im 19 and use any pronouns, I read a variety of whump but my current fave is bbu or hurt/comfort stuff. (Sorry I struggle at writing intros)
Links to master lists will be listed below but that’s it for now.
Whump prompts:
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